You loved Sukuna so much it hurt your heart at times, unable to properly show how much poured from your fingertips after touching his skin. Just a hug or a small kiss would have you flooded with love. All for him.

He was the same, you never knew any hardships when he was around, there to be a strong arm, a word that made you laugh, brightening your day. Never upset you, sure, he might be a bit rough around the edges, but you weren't perfect, either.

The purest kind of love and adoration, care.

Mutual obsession.

So when did it start going wrong?

Truthfully, you hadn't even noticed it. Nothing was amiss. Your mind about him is as spotless as your bow, your husband could do no wrong.

Nothing was wrong in your marriage, nothing had changed in your relationship.

But your surroundings were shifting.

Missing knives, but they were replaced with new, better ones a day or two after you began asking where they had gone. A safe tucked away in the closet, no clue what was inside.

"For our safety, sweetheart, you know how wild animals are."

Having to do more loads of laundry than usual. But Sukuna himself would do it, not letting you glance at his dirty clothes thrown into a pile in the middle of the hamper, reassuring you to leave it to him.

"Go rest, my flower. I'll handle it."

No questions about this odd tint of red around his fingernails that never went away.

Why was the shed locked shut?

The shed.

Just a regular tool shed, your husband kept his power tools and lawnmower there, nothing unusual for the house.

So why was it bolted shut day after day unless Sukuna strolled inside of it?

"Just working on some things in there, don't worry your pretty little head about it, alright, my doll?"

"You should be worrying more about watering the flowers instead of some junk in a rotting shed, my love."

Sweet words, easing your curious heart. He was a good man.

But you couldn't help yourself, could you?

Off at work, at least that's what your husband told you he was up to, not around to fill your ears with light whispers and reassurance of your growing paranoia.

It was starting to get cloudy outside, a storm rolling in from past the canopy of nearby trees. Your first sign not to step outside.

The second one was the lock on the wooden door.

You had the key, right?

Of course you did.

While searching for your slippers in the morning, you had peeked under the bed.

Taped on the underside of your husband's side was… something.

Now it was in your hands, your anxious, shaky hands.

Don't be nervous now, all you have to do is turn the lock.

Click.

You didn't reach for the handle yet, taking a shaky breath and shutting your eyes.

Sukuna wouldn't be mad, right?

No, no, he wouldn't.

The only way he spoke to you was through patience and gentle guidance. He'd just chuckle and show you what's inside himself, yes.

Manipulation and lies, sugarcoated to sound as tender as your flesh.

You didn't know, using that same feeling of safety to calm your nerves, peering at the door once again, your hand on the handle already, key in the lock.

Nothing to be uneasy about, it's just a shed with gardening tools and maybe some car parts. Stop feeling like you might get your neck snapped just by having a little look.

The door creaked open, louder than you would have liked. The treeline went silent after the uncomfortable noise. A third warning.

What you saw wasn't all that odd… the lawnmower in the corner, a grass trimmer, and a few shovels in a dark corner.

You stepped inside, leaving the door ajar.

The lamp in the middle of the shabby thing flicked awake after tugging on the string dangling down.

There was this faint smell of dread hiding behind the organization.

Your eyes flicked around, landing on the workbench at the far side. Your feet carrying you there before your brain.

A small jar of pulled teeth fell into your gaze.

Teeth?

The more you looked around, the items didn't seem so innocent anymore.

Thick rope and a few rusty saws tucked under the table.

Not rust.

Maybe the worst thing was a splotch of thick blood on the edge of a bucket filled with that same stench of impending doom.

It wasn't blood… just paint.

Your fingers reached out, you had to prove to yourself that it was nothing.

But the deep crimson stained your hand, the smell of iron hit your nose, and you couldn't keep the fantasy stable anymore.

Thunderclouds had hidden the sky completely outside, making the space darker than before.

The loud thuds of heavy raindrops hitting the tin roof of the shed rang through your ears, overwhelming your senses, hands trembling while looking at the glossy blood seeping into your nail beds.

You should not have left the door open.

"My flower, what are you doing in here?"

Sukuna had returned.

You snapped out of your trance, blinking and looking in his direction, hand reaching up to your head in search of the comfort of your lace bow, fiddling with it while watching your husband approach.

Rough hands cradled your face, gently checking if you had hurt yourself. Red irises did a horrible job of hiding his displeasure with you.

"You didn't harm yourself, did you? Oh my sweet girl… come here."

A hug, face smushed into the comfort of his chest. A steady heartbeat against your ear.

So he wasn't mad… good.

Your trembling hands clung to his back.

You couldn't see the way Sukuna's jaw clenched, nails itching to claw into your sides and squeeze you tight enough to have you pop.

"You shouldn't be in here. How about we go back inside and have dinner, hm?"

No questions about the key or your findings.

False safety.

Sukuna had taken you back in the house, sat you down, and helped heat up some food. It was silent while you ate, your fork barely able to cut through a soft vegetable, as the thought of the odd findings popped back into your mind.

"Sweetheart, why is your bow filthy? Messy girl."

Your fingers had stained a corner of it with the Incarnadine shade.

Scrubbing. Scratching, desperately washing both your hands and the lace, couldn't get rid of it.

You cried in his arms that night, gathered up in his chest, head lying against his.

Sukuna caressed your back, caressed your hair, and shushed you to sleep.

It was just a bow.

The truth was cracking from the seams everywhere you looked now. The house was lacking color, the dullness and real darkness creeping in from unlit corners. The ingredients in the pantry and the shelves in the fridge seemed to be rotten, tasteless.

Sukuna's face looked different, touching it made your skin tingle- as if it refused to connect with his.

Maybe it was because the romanticized image of him was losing its shape.

And maybe the fact that he refused to let you go outside.

No more garden work, too harsh for your puzzled mind.

The sun was too hot, even on a cloudy day.

You needed to relax, even after sleeping all day.

It was getting unbearable.

The front door was locked, the back door too. Sukuna was working in the study.

Trapped in your own safe haven, you needed to do something, so why not go down to the basement?

Your husband never said anything about the cold concrete box below the floorboards, knowing you were too scared to go there.

With nothing better to do, his logic was being proved false with every step you took down the squeaky stairs.

You found the light switch, getting a yellow, old hue illuminating the space.

Oh yeah, the freezers were down here.

Two, to be exact. Sukuna liked smoking meat and fish on sunny days, so you knew he used them to keep them frozen.

A little peek wouldn't do you any harm.

So what if your last gander took away your freedom to leave these walls? This was different.

As if.

The sound of the creaking steps had alerted him, no matter how slow you had gone.

Your tainted hands lifted the large hinged lid of the chest.

Just some plastic bags of red meat, parts of a pig, and venison. A large salmon head stared up at you from the side.

The eyes of the dead fish were gouged out.

The lid went back down, now wanting to see if the same contents were in the second one.

You should have stopped with the first one.

At first the same plastic bags stared up at you, what looked like minced meat and animal body parts.

Not that human hand though.

Sawed off from the bicep, a fleshy limb wrapped in the same plastic bag, but oozing crimson from the palm made eye contact with you.

The color drained from your face, doubling over and pulling the dismembered part out, your own arms shaking while looking at the frozen appendage.

Bile churned around in your stomach, a sour, watery taste taking over your mouth.

The stairs were still squeaky, making sound as heavy footsteps rushed down.

"Flower, what are you up to now?"

Once Sukuna's head went low enough from the upper floor, seeing the sight of you holding something you never were supposed to see.

Your hands dropped the bag immediately, clattering to the basement floor, a part of the bag opening, the smell of decayed flesh hit your nose once again.

"My angel, are you trying to get yourself in trouble again. It hurts me to keep you locked away, but if you keep fooling around, i might just keep you in one room and tend to you."

His voice was gruff, trying to sound smooth and caring, but it was clearly impossible to do so.

He tried to reach out to you, blunt nails touching your hair, easing you to step into his embrace. Just like any other time to have you calm down and trap you in his arms till he felt you'd deserve freedom.

His palm crushed your skull into his chest, Sukuna acting like he wanted to infuse you inside of his ribcage.

"Silly thing, must you keep poking your nose in my things?" He cooed into your hair, but you swore you could feel his canines trying to bite into the top of your head.

"We will go upstairs, watch a movie, and forget all about this-"

"No!"

You never spoke against him, so the sudden outburst had Sukuna's grip faltering, you shoved yourself off of him, looking more panicked than ever, not letting him worm his way into your logical thinking.

"Come back, you little…!"

You stumbled back, tripping over the same arm, trying to grab onto the freezer but it did nothing, crashing backwards with a thud.

Thankfully it only gave you a faint dizziness, scrambling up right after.

A tattooed arm wrapped around you, holding you tighter than before. He wouldn't let go now.

"You hit your head, my dear. It's bleeding. Maybe you shook your little brain back into place. I told you, we are forgetting about this and watching a fucking movie."

He dragged you back up the stair by your middle, not caring about you tripping over your own feet, not caring that you were looking at the melting limb on the ground and the image of pooling blood and peeling skin underneath a plastic sheen was the last thing engraved in your mind before the lights got switched off.

He sat you down, giving you a stern glare before disappearing into the bathroom to grab a first aid kit for your bleeding scalp.

The gash was above your bow, it still neatly wrapped into your hair, the thick red seeped into the middle of the ivory lace. Stained worse than before, just a few spots keeping the previous ivory color safe.

His fingers were gentle, parting your hair and cleaning the wound with stinging spirit. Your eyes blankly watched the subtitles flow as some old western movie played on the television.

You didn't dare look up, not wanting to see the cold glaze in his irises, knowing Sukuna wanted nothing but to take away your air and put you to sleep.

You weren't the one slumbering.

The only way you could end this nightmare was to snuff out the source.

It was past midnight, a large, full moon shining trough the tightly shut windows. Your bow hanging on by a few messy locks of hair, a bandaged wrapped around your skull with a red splotch on the back.

A knife, your favourite one to cut up fruit. The one with a pretty handle, engraved with both you and your sleeping husbands initials.

You stood over him, eyes almost bleary while watching Sukuna's peaceful expression. Like the day he asked for your hand, for the day he said he wanted to be yours. The day you bought a house together in the middle of nowhere.

If only you were strong enough, your breathing had turned shaky and bordering on gasping as your hand shook, unable to even process what you were about to do.

The last thing to give away your actions was a droplet, a salty and large teardrop rolling down your cheek and right on to Sukuna's lips.

His eyes shot open as if his senses were on high alert, an arm already reaching out to grab at you.

You didn't know what else to do besides listen to your mind- stumbling back and running as fast as you could.

Almost falling out of the bedroom after shoving the door open.

Sukuna didn't yell for you to get back. He was already chasing after you.

You couldn't hear a single thing, heart too loud in your ears- wanting to leap out of your mouth.

Glass shattered, sharp pain in your palms and legs while climbing trough the kitchen window.

Damp grass padding against your bare soles as you ran for the treeline, unable to breathe.

You don't know how far you ran.

Didn't know how long.

He caught up, he always did.

Why would such a silly girl like you think he had just let you go?

"My petal, where have you gone now? I can hear you."

It felt like he was right behind the tree you had hid, blunt nails digging into the handle of the knife you thankfully hadn't dropped.

You shut your eyes, holding your breath. But that was no use.

"My angel, come out."

Heavy footsteps approached, with no care stepping right past the thick bark of the tree.

A stab to the chest, your hands weak from fear but driven enough to push the blade right to his beating heart, ripping trough muscle.

Too shocked by your own action, the pain from the same type of sharpness slicing trough the side of your throat.

Maybe it was a bit romantic, the last time spent together, in each others arms, spluttering and struggling to breathe, buried in moss with a pale moon not even giving you the ability to see one another bleed out.

Sukuna had never kissed the top of your head as tenderly as right before his last breath.

"I love you."

Not like you could reply, blood filling your lungs and vocal chords sliced.

Already fading out together with the last beat of his heart.

The bow, the lacy thing no longer white, barely even recognizable by how much blood had been spilt.

Yoon's notes: hi guys sorry for the lame ass horror fic

masterlist

art: innaillus on ig

tags: from @yoonchokes

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©yoonsucks

all work belongs to @yoonsucks , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!

You need new clothes? He's taking you out to the cutest boutiques to buy you dresses.

You need groceries? He's writing a list, checking it twice, and going to the market after work so you can rest your pretty feet. 

You want breakfast? The man would get up at the ass crack dawn to pluck eggs from a hen's nest and squeeze fresh oranges for your orange juice for you. 

You want to stay in and make love all weekend? Say no more. Nanami is a fantastic lover as he is a husband. He will not rest until you are supremely satisfied, a smile on your pretty face between the sweat-soaked sheets and your skin peppered in kisses. 

Nanami proves time and time again that his top priority is you, the woman he married and the soon-to-be mother of his unborn child…eventually. You haven’t gotten to that part yet, but you know that Nanami would be a fantastic father as he is a husband. He is already saving money working long hours as a salesman for your future family in addition to putting it all aside just for you, his pretty wife. 

You thought you knew everything there was to know about your straight-laced, quiet husband...until you realize that you don't and you probably never really did. 

This realization comes one particularly hot summer evening when Nanami arrives home from work. His job as a traveling salesman is annoying enough, but traveling back and forth in his car in the sweltering summer’s heat and forced to come back to his hotbox of an office to write reports and type his fingers off? 

But it is all worth it to come straight home to you, his beautiful wife and the soon-to-be mother of his future child. He would work every day from dawn to dusk to save up enough money for your future bakery and to care for his unborn daughter/son. Anything to make you happy and to ensure the wellbeing of his little family. 

He was debating whether to tell his boss to go fuck himself and escape to his car just to see you, maybe sweep you off to some distant island complete with endless piña coladas and orgasms that he’d give you, but he remembered why he has this stupid salesman job to begin with (for you, of course) and endured the sweltering heat. 

But it’s nice to finally come home from a long work day with an entire weekend to spend with you alone. Nanami is quick to pull into his driveway and drag his tired, muscular body to his cozy, white picket-fenced house on his clean-cut lawn dewy from you watering the flowers earlier. He sighs as he unlocks the door, instantly hit with the coolness of the air-conditioning to soothe his sweat-soaked collar. 

He lowers his brief case, tosses his car keys to the side, and loosens his tie as he shuts the door. Finally. “Honey?” he calls. “I’m home.” 

The living room is spotless–fluffed pillows, polished floors, and dusted furniture. You were a busy bee today, even while pregnant. You can never slow yourself down, convinced that your job is to be a “good little housewife”, so Nanami often has to force you. “In the kitchen, sweetie!” you call. “Just give me a second!” 

He hears the sounds of your records playing and your humming along with the tempting aroma of roasted chicken, herbs, and spices. He thinks he catches the hint of honey and butter in the air too which means you’re baking your famous dinner rolls. He feels his stomach grumble, glad to have a home-cooked meal besides store-bought salads and bento boxes because he wants to give you a break from cooking. 

He slips off his shoes, placing them near the door, when he hears your heels clicking across the floor. “Mmm, what did you cook tonight, my love? Whatever it is, it smells absolutely…” The last word dies in his throat when he turns around and gets a good look at you. 

He has been yearning to see you all day. Getting an eyeful of you after a day of strangers, coworkers, and gray cubicle walls is a blessing indeed. At work, he often pictures you running around in your cute little ruffled and lace dresses, a feather duster in hand or a hose as you water your planted petunias and daisies. 

How he loves seeing you in your polka-dotted and poodle-printed dresses with lace at the hem and the collar just low enough to see a slip of collarbone and your gorgeous breasts. You like to look pretty when you clean and cook, always meeting him at the door with a drink in hand and a sweet kiss. 

But tonight is different. Tonight, you greet him with his favorite–whiskey on the rocks–, but also something else. You aren’t wearing one of your prim and proper homemaker dresses. Instead, you’re wearing a matching white midriff top and ruffled mini skirt printed with little red cherries, red thigh-length stockings, a garter belt, and firetruck red heels that click across the floor as you strut towards him. 

Nanami stares, shocked into silence, as his eyes drink you in–the way your lips, coated in sinful red lipstick, curl into a sultry smile; the way your brown skin and bouncy black curls pop against the bright red and stark white; the slender curves of your hips, slightly widened by your little baby bump, and luscious tits pushed up so enticingly by your push-up bra. 

“Delicious,” he finishes. The word escapes him, hot and seductive. Your smile grows, the red of your lips matching the glossy nail polish on your fingernails. He wonders if your toenails match. “Why, thank you, hubby. Welcome home. How was your day?” 

“U-Uh…w-well, I…baby, what…” Nanami pauses, licking his dry lips. His body, having been exhausted from work, is suddenly rigid, just as his dick is. You look like a walking wet dream. A certified pin-up fantasy. And you’re acting as if it’s so normal! 

You cock your head to the side, looking concerned, but you still got that playful twinkle in your brown eyes framed by your long, black lashes. “You okay, honey? You look a little flushed. Come on, let’s sit you down so you can have your stiff-one.” 

Nanami wants to give you a stiff-one too, preferably on the comfy couch you sit him down on. When you hand him his whiskey, he has to focus 100% of his brain power on taking a sip. All he can think about is your soft, brown skin and how sweet you smell. The aroma is sugary and gourmet. Fruity but not quite. It makes his cock even harder. 

You smile as he sips his drink, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “There, better now?” Nanami doesn’t want to tell you that you’re, in fact, making his situation a lot worse. 

It takes everything in him to will his dick to not poke a hole in his pants. He can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten him this horny. Nanami has always considered himself to be a pretty vanilla man and he has always been attracted to you, but to see you sitting here looking so sexy in your little pin-up girl gear is damn near making him want to lock you up and fuck you dumb for the rest of the weekend. 

He clears his throat, his cheeks growing hot and red. “Y-Yes, but…your outfit…where is your dress?” You blink at him, acting so confused and innocent, which somehow turns him on more. This is a game to you. “Oh, this?” you giggle, smoothing out your skirt. “Do you like it? I thought tonight was just too hot for a dress.” 

You expectantly stare at him for an answer, but his silence makes you frown. “Do you not like it?” you softly ask, your eyes growing big. If Nanami could punch himself, he would. He never wants to make you feel unsexy or unpretty just because he can’t handle his own perverted feelings!

“No, no, I do,” he protests, squeezing your hands in his. “I love it, honey. You look…” Amazing. Gorgeous. Sexy. Fuckable. “I’m just confused because…did you clean in that today?” He feels stupid even pondering the thought, but you giggle anyway, flashing him that gorgeous smile. “No, silly man! I put this one for when you got home. I wanted to surprise you.”

He blinks, confused and still ogling at your chest like a perv. “Surprise me? With what?” Now you get shy, that little vixen role you had earlier vanishing. “With…me, I guess,” you softly reply. “Are you sure you like it? I know it’s new and I can take it back if you really don’t—“ 

But Nanami silences you with a passionate kiss, his hand cupping your chin. You moan in surprise, just as shook by his sudden dominance as he is. While he has no problem taking the reins during sex if you initiate it, he has never felt such a fiery urge to grab you and use you until now. “I told you that I fucking love it,” he pants when he pulls away, staring into your hooded eyes. “Look at you. You got me hard as soon as I saw you.” 

Your pretty eyes widen, surprised by his vulgar words. He can tell they excite you though, judging by the change in your breathing and the way you bite your bottom lip. “Really?” He nods, his fingers playing with your black curls. “Really. But I have to ask why the change? You usually wear your pretty dresses around the house.” 

And those dresses get him just as ready to fuck you as your outfit now, albeit imaging him ripping it off and fucking you stupid in them until he ruins the pretty lace with his cum. 

Your smile suddenly fades, your expression looking somewhat uncertain. “I was doing our laundry today and I found something of yours.” Suddenly, Nanami’s stomach drops. “Found what?” he carefully asks, his brows furrowed above his spectacles. Surely, you don’t mean…

You give him an apologetic look, your bottom lip sunk between your teeth. “Your…pin-up girl magazine. It fell out from your sock drawer.” 

Nanami damn near passes out from sheer embarrassment. He’s so thrown that he has to sip more of his drink. “Oh, dear,” he sighs. “You weren’t supposed to find that.” You quickly try to soften the blow, rubbing his arm. “I didn’t look in it. And I wasn’t snoopin’. I just—“ 

“I know you weren’t, honey,” he replies, gently rubbing your knee. “You’d never do that to me. But I’m still embarrassed.” His face grows hot as he thinks of the particular pin-up magazine he had stuffed away. 

He isn’t sure what started this fetish for him, but he is still a man after all. And a man like him will appreciate a woman’s curves and assets. Seeing all of those women, some full-figured, some slightly smaller, showing all of that skin in lace, garter, and leather never fails to get him hot and bothered on those nights where he doesn’t want to bother you with his urges. He simply flips open a page, pictures you in one of those slinky, slutty outfits, and busts a hot load into his hand, keeping his grunts soft and his moans low to not wake you.

He has always hidden from you in fear of you finding it disgusting or perverted. Sex is considered something taboo in this day and age; something to only do behind closed doors. But seeing you sitting here like one of the pin-up girls out of his magazine has awakened something in him. 

“Kento, it’s okay,” you softly say, trying to comfort him. “I just didn’t realize you were into that sorta thing…n-not that it’s bad!” 

He quirks a little smirk. He even convinced you that he’s a straight-laced, proper man who doesn’t enjoy tits and ass. “So you bought this just to appease me?” he asks, running a hand over your stockings. “This isn’t because you think I don’t find you attractive, is it? Because that’s far from the truth.”

But judging by your embarrassed expression, he realizes that this is the case. “W-Well…with the baby weight and all…I just wanted to try to be sexier for you.” You nervously play with the bows adorning your stockings where your creamy, brown skin meets nylon. 

Quickly, Nanami wraps his arms around you and places you in his lap, making you squeak. “My darling, you are sexy no matter what you do or wear. I look at those magazines and think about nobody but you in those outfits and poses.” 

You look away, smiling bashfully, even as you’re sitting right on top of his hard cock. His big hand skates down your hip to your thigh, squeezing it possessively. “I’ve thought about telling you about this so many times, but I feared you’d think it was abhorrent or perverted.” 

You give him a fierce look that gets him harder and hotter, ready to strip off his clothes and fuck you silly. “I could never think that about you, Nanami,” you protest. “And I think we’re both perverts in our own way.” You flash him a suggestive smile that piques his interest. 

“Oh? How so? Any secret kinks you’ve got locked up?” His hand moves down to your ass, squeezing it in your skirt. “O-Oh…a few,” you exhale, affected by his bold move. He smirks up at you, your sweet-scented perfume like an aphrodisiac to him. “Yeah? Any you want to share with your man?” 

He then places you next to him and slowly opens your thighs to get a view of your red lace panties. You bite your lip as he lays you back against the pillows, your tits heaving as you pant. “N-Nanami, the food…supper will get cold.”

But your husband is too busy gazing at your panties, desperate to see what lies behind them. “I’ve got my supper right here,” he murmurs. “Dessert too.” Slowly, he thick fingers stroke up your slit, making you moan. He shudders in pleasure when his fingers come back sticky from your dripping arousal. “Fuck, you’re wet already, baby,” he sighs. “Were you like this all day for me?”

You stare at him with hooded eyes as he sucks your juices off of his fingers, staring deep into your eyes. “Yes,” you softly admit. “When I bought this at the mall, I thought about you with me.” 

That little admission breaks Nanami’s resolve and suddenly, he can’t think of anything but getting you naked. “We can’t waste this now then, can we?” he chuckles. “Maybe you should model it for me. After all, it’s new.” 

You smile, standing up in your wickedly red heels, placing your hands on your curvy hips. “Of course, hubby,” you whisper, a little seductive tilt in your sweet voice. You then strut away, your ass swaying and your skirt swishing as you do, leaving Nanami sporting blue balls. 

The sound of the sweet doowop song cuts. The record scratches and suddenly, another song begins to play. This one is familiar–“I Wanna Be Loved By You” by Marylin Monroe–and Nanami couldn’t relate to a song more as he sees you slowly strut out from the kitchen. 

Then you begin to model. You work the living room like it’s your runway and Nanami is your biggest fan. He was already obsessed with you, but watching you flaunt your little outfit and twirl in your skirt makes it worse. You are an itch he can’t scratch. A drug he needs every day. He sits back and rubs his cock through his slacks as his eyes indulge in your juicy tits and curves, all of you so sexy and perfect. 

“Turn around,” he softly demands. You do so, presenting your full ass peeking out from under your skirt, framed by the garter belt and lace stockings for him, making him groan in agony and arousal for you. 

He can’t help it: he starts to strip too, feeling too constricted and sweltered. You turn as he strips off his pristine button-down shirt and wifebeater, exposing every inch of his lean muscles and tan skin for you. His arms, chest, and stomach are sinewy with blonde hair, much to your liking. “What are you doing?” you giggle. He flashes you a smile as he tosses the shirt away. “Modeling for you too. Come here.”

He crooks a finger at you and you can’t resist. You slowly walk up to him and he pulls you closer before gently placing your heel against his chest. He begins to kiss down your knee, his fingers running over every sensitive spot of your leg. “Kento,” you softly hum, running your fingers through his blonde locks. “That feels so good.” 

Nanami continues to kiss up your leg, reaching your calf and then up your thigh, his nimble fingers running over your muscle. The heel of your stiletto shoe presses into his skin, that pinch of pain making him rock hard. He is practically feening for you like an addict as he presses your foot into his broad chest, giving you the most sultry smile he has ever given anyone. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. “How did I ever get so damn lucky?” 

Slowly, he takes off your heel as you stand there, aroused and silent. As the song places softly in the background, Nanami slips off your stocking to reveal your pretty foot and red-painted toes. He gently kisses your sole before placing your foot on his hard cock, emitting a soft gasp from you. “Now do you see how sexy you are?” he murmurs, staring so intently into your eyes as you do his. 

“I…certainly feel it,” you purr. Nanami groans as he lets your red-painted toes gently rub his bulge, massaging his cock through his slacks. “So what will you do about it?” he huffs. You smile and slowly kneel, giving him a great view of your tits as you do. Your fingers run over his thighs up to his belt. “May I take these off for you, Daddy?” you ask, so sultry and sweet. 

The forbidden, dirty pet name causes fire to skate through Nanami’s body. “Of course, you can, sweetie,” he replies. “My girl can have whatever she wants.” He watches as you skillfully unbuckle him and snatch his pants down to his ankles. He takes himself out for you, unable to be patient for your mouth. 

The hot gaze you give his hard cock is like a drug to him. He is on the thicker side with a slight curve up and a bulbous, pink head protruding from a happy trail of blonde curls. You’ve sucked his cock many times before, but he still feels the same euphoria he did the first time you blew him. Your sucks are slow and languid yet deep and sloppy, slurping up every thick, girthy inch of him. 

Nanami groans, his head tilting back at the pleasure you serve him on a silver platter. “God,” he pants. “Seriously, how did I ever get so damn lucky to get you?” Your brown eyes tick up at him as you pull away, your red lipstick already smeared across your lips and coating his cock. 

“Because you’re such a wonderful husband,” you whisper, giving his cockhead a sloppy kiss, leaving a red lipstick stain. “And you’ll be an even greater father.” 

You then spit on his cock, damn near driving him insane, and begin to stroke him with both hands as you go right back to sucking him. Your slow sucking transitions to quicker, wetter, messier sucks and slurps, your moans vibrating against his cock and your throat tightening around him. “Fuck,” he moans, fingers laced through your black curls. “God, h-honey…you’re gonna make me cum. You make me feel so good.” 

You pause to pop off of him like a lollipop, smiling. “That makes me so happy, Kenny!” you chirp. “I love making you feel good, Daddy.” He shivers at the pet name, his hand digging into the couch cushion while the other pets your curls. “Does my girl want her man to fuck her pretty mouth?” he hums. 

You nod, your eyes sparkling with need. “Yes, please.” His cock twitches and throbs at your sweet obedience, wanting to do everything you could ever want from him tonight. “Sorry about the lipstick, sweetie,” he mutters. But he isn’t that sorry when he starts fucking your tight, wet throat. 

Nanami’s moans grow loud and bounce off of the walls as he fucks up into your throat, watching as your cheeks hollow to keep him locked in your mouth. Red stains his cock, marking him as yours completely, his balls flush with your chin. He fucks your throat like he would your pussy, your spit dripping down to his balls and staining the couch, his girth making you gag and your throat flex around him. 

His balls begin to tighten and soon, he can feel a much-needed orgasm rising to the surface. “Fuck, baby! I’m gonna fucking cum!” he grunts. “Where do you want it?” He slides out long enough to let you speak, albeit through pants of air as you catch your breath. The smile you give him is straight out of a porno, all sex. “Wherever you want it, Daddy~” 

He wants so desperately to cum all over your pretty face done-up in makeup. Make your mascara drip with his spunk and smear your red lipstick even more. But instead, he does something more respectful to your hard work. He begins to stroke his cock in your face, his orgasm growing closer the more you stare at his hand turning into a blur with how hard and fast he pumps his dick. 

“Stick your tongue out,” he demands as he pumps his cock up and down, stroking his cum out of his dick for you. You do so, sticking your pink tongue out between your red lips as you snatch your tits out of your top. Between your pretty mouth and your juicy tits, he has no idea where to look. 

“Fuck!” he groans as his release hits him like a truck, pleasure skating through his body. Tendrils of heat rush up through his cock as he cums, shooting ropes of spunk onto your skin. He shudders and moans as he watches his spunk drip down your full tits and over your pink tongue, especially when you hum and swallow it all for him. “Good girl,” he sighs. “Now do you want your reward for such a good job?” 

You eagerly nod, vibrating with need. “Yes please, Daddy,” you whimper. He smiles, gently stroking your cheek. “Then stand up and bend over for me. I need to taste you.”

He helps you up on wobbly legs and slips your heel and stocking off for you, leaving you much shorter than him (not that the heels did much). When you’re fully bent over and presenting that ass to him underneath that slutty little skirt is when he almost loses all self control. Your cheeks look so full and enticing with your red panties wedged between them, shining with your sticky arousal. 

He begins to kiss and nibble on your asscheeks, making you moan and push your ass back into his face. You look back at him, your eyes sparkling with want. “N-Nanami,” you stammer. “Could you, um…” You pause, biting your lip with uncertainty. Nanami smiles, already knowing that you’ve got something quite naughty in mind. “Yes, honey? What do you need?”

He places a hand on your ass, stroking it thoughtfully, emitting a soft moan from you. “Could you…maybe spank me?” you softly ask. He grins, his flaccid cock suddenly hardening at the little slut of a wife he realizes that he’s got. “Of course, I can. You let me know if it hurts too much, understand?” You nod and he flips up your skirt before he raises one palm, bringing it down hard onto your asscheek. 

SPANK! 

You gasp as his hand connects with your asscheek, your bottom jiggling against his palm. He sees the way your back arches and how you pant like a bitch in heat. “You like that, sweetie?” he coos. “You want another one?” You nod, biting your lip. So what does he do? He gives you more, of course. 

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

His hand repeatedly collides with your asscheeks, the sound of his palm connecting with each one filling the air. The sound of his hand smacking against your skin and your gasps make him rock hard again. His assault has affected you too–from here, he can see how soaked you’ve become, your arousal dripping down your creamy thighs, sticky and shiny. 

He bends down to lick it all up, making you moan. “Oh, my…look at how soaked my poor girl is,” he tuts. “And after cleaning and cooking alone all day. We can’t have that.” He then moves your panties down to your ankles, exposing your pretty pussy to him, and begins to softly lick you. He nuzzles his nose into your pussy, rubbing your clit, as your sweet aroma catches his nostrils. 

“Oh,” you sigh. “That feels so good, Kenny. Please more.” It doesn’t take long for his cock to spring back to life when you begin moaning and gasping at his tongue lashings. He turns into a hungered beast, his hands gripping your ass as he juts his tongue out to fuck up into your hole. 

“A-Ah, fuck!” you gasp, grabbing the couch for dear life as your body shakes with pleasure. “Yes, baby, yes! Right there! Don’t stop!” You’ve never been this loud before. You’ve never sounded so slutty. Nanami loves it; craves it like he does your pussy, your sweetness and wetness coating his tongue like sugar. 

He thinks about doing this to you all day at work, making himself hard at the thought of tasting you and making you moan from his soft lips. He makes it last for you, focusing on your pleasure, until your moans grow loud and high like an opera singer about to reach her big number. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna c-cum!” you stammer through gasps of air. “You’re gonna make me cum, Kento!” 

Nanami is so hard that he is dripping with pre-cum, causing him to stroke himself as he eats you out. “Cum for me,” he growls, urgency in his tone. “Cum so I can fuck you and make you cum around this cock. Do it, my darling; give it to me!” And like a puppet on strings, you listen and cum all over his tongue. 

You moan his name as you cream all over his mouth, flooding it with your sweet honey. Nanami grows and damn near whimpers at your taste, considering it better than a cold drink of water on a hot day. When you finish cumming and bucking those hips, Nanami finally pulls away and presses a final kiss to your twitching clit. “Mmm, you taste like cherries,” he hums. 

Slowly, you turn to him, your eyes hooded and makeup slightly askew. You’ve never looked more beautiful to him. “Fuck me please,” you whine, staring into his eyes. “I need you, hubby.” 

When he stands, you press your ass back into him, rubbing your naked pussy on his cock, emitting a moan from both of you. You’re playing with fire and he is ready to let his flames engulf you. “Whatever my baby wants,” he murmurs, giving your ass a slight smack. He wraps a hand around his cock and presses it against your entrance, making you whimper. “But you’d better take it all, understand?”

You sexily giggle, wiggling your ass around as he toys with it, smacking it up. “Yes, Da–” But you don’t get to finish, too busy gasping as he finally pushes himself inside of you. 

He fucks you over the couch first, one hand on your full ass and the other gripping your hip; your tummy; your full, bouncing tits. Any part of you that he can grab. He flips your skirt up and tears your top off, letting your breasts free and fully bounce as he fucks you in doggy, bouncing you up and down off of his cock. 

“F-Fuck, Ken, yes!” you gasp. “Oh, my God, that’s so good! You fuck me so good!” 

“Yeah?” he teasingly asks, pressing soft kisses down your spine. “My sweet little wife likes gettin’ fucked like a slut, doesn’t she?” He gives your ass another hard smack, making you cry out in sheer pleasure, your black curls bouncing all around your head as he takes you to paradise. 

Then, without a warning, he scoops you up and walks you over to the dining room table, kicking away his slacks as he does. The table is littered with dishes of food–mashed potatoes, salad, roasted broccoli, roasted chicken. But the only meal he wants right now is you. “Nanami, no!” you laugh as your back hits the tablecloth table. “The food! You’re gonna ruin the–”

He silences you with an open-mouthed kiss that steals both of your breaths away, smearing his mouth in your red lipstick. “Quiet down now, my love,” he whispers. “I can’t fuck you properly if you’re not moaning for me.”

He then proceeds to fuck you on your back on the table, making it rock back and forth with his thrusts. Your legs wrap tight around him, your heels digging into his firm ass, as your arms lock around his neck. You gasp and moan as you bounce off of his cock like the perfect little fuck bunny, your pussy squelching in time with his thrusts. “Harder, Kenny, please!” you whine. “Fuck me faster! Make me cum for you!” 

Nanami is happy to oblige, pinning your thighs apart as he fucks you harder, making your pussy drip and squelch all around his cock. “Is this how you want it, hm? This how you like it?” You can’t speak, too tongue-tied. Your eyes roll back as he gives you dick like you need it, thighs split and pussy stuffed. “You look so beautiful like this,” he groans. “Makes me wanna give you another baby.” 

He runs a tender hand over your little baby bump, not quite big but not small either. Just a few weeks along. You stare up into his eyes, tender and longing, making his cock twitch inside of you. You lock your legs around him, locking him inside of you, making it hard to pull away even if he wanted to. “Do it,” you hiccup. “Give me another baby, Ken. I want this with you.” 

Nanami turns into a damn monster, hungry for more. He can’t resist pulling out and bending you over the dinner table, taking you in doggy again. With every bounce of your luscious ass against his stomach and every slam of his cock inside of your luscious pussy, he drags you both to the edge of pleasure. “Fuck, Daddy, yes!” you whine. “Harder! Faster! Fuck me just like that!” 

“Yeah? Like that?” he pants, his body soaked in sweat and flushed from the frantic fucking. He then laces a hand around your throat and gives it a squeeze, making your jaw go slack. “Only I can fuck you like this, right? You’re mine, aren’t you, sweetie?” 

He fucks you harder, faster, his hips snapping against your ass, ruining your curls that you spent all day perfecting. “Yes, yes, yes!” you gasp. “Oh, my God, Ken, I’m gonna cum again! S-Slow down!” He chuckles, the sound dark and rather evil. “Fuck that. You’re gonna cum for me again and I’m gonna give you another load for that sweet pussy.” 

SMACK!

He gives your pussy a little smack that makes you squeak, the sound so cute and addictive. “Gonna give you another baby,” he moans in your ear. “Gonna make you a mommy. Give you everything you could ever want.” 

He needs to make you cum again. Needs to fill you up. Needs to mark your womb with his child once more. That urge only grows when he presses his nose into your neck and inhales, breathing in that sweet aroma again. Then it comes to him: you smell like cherries.

“I love you so much, darling,” he whispers. “You know that right?” You nod, smiling, turning to face him. “I love you too,” you whimper. 

“Then prove it,” he grunts. “Cum for me right now. C’mon, give me another one, darling. You can do it.” You wrap your arm around his neck, cradling him between the crook of your neck, sharing a sloppy French kiss with him, exchanging moans and saliva between each other. 

You don’t warn him when you cum–you just do it. When your moans grow louder than the music, you cream all over him again, soaking his cock and balls in your honey. He can’t help it–he cums at the same time you do. “Oh, fuck!” he bellows as another hot load of cum shoots out of him. He grips your hips enough to bruise them as he shoots a hot load inside of you, releasing all of the tension wired up from work and your outfit. 

But he isn’t done yet. After he makes you cum again, he pulls out and begins stroking his cock, the wet sounds of his fingers wrapped around his wet shaft filling the air. “Get on your knees for me,” he pants, pumping his cock in an effort to save more of his cum for you. 

You kneel before him, your brown skin glittering in sweat, your tits still dripping in his cum from before. This time he wants to ruin your makeup. He wants to ruin you. With a rasped groan of release, another hot shot of cum shoots out of his cock and splashes onto your tits and pretty face. You giggle as each drop hits your face, dripping down your lips and chin. 

“Mmm,” you hum, sucking his cum off of your lips. “Thank you, Daddy. That’s better than the cherry pie I fixed for you.” 

Nanami softly chuckles as he pants, his broad, sweaty chest heaving from the rush. “Nothing’s better than your cooking, darling.” Accept maybe your pussy, of course. 

He helps you stand on your wobbly legs and holds you close, wrapping his beefy arms around your waist. “Think I gave you another baby just now?” he chuckles. You nuzzle your face into his chest, running your hands over his chest hair. “Honey, I think you gave me triplets at this point!” you giggle. “Now we can grow our little family.” 

He rubs a loving hand over your stomach, smiling. “Yes, we can,” he whispers into your soft curls. “I’m looking forward to it, my little cherry.”

You smile bashfully at the new pet name and stand on your toes to kiss him, your hand covering his over your stomach. “Now do you want dinner?” you softly ask against his lips. 

Nanami pretends to think about it. His appetite is still there, but it isn’t for your home cooked meal. Instead, it’s all for you. “Mmm, not too sure. I think I want some of your cherry pie.” His hand runs over your ass, squeezing it possessively, making you purr like a kitten.

“Well, both are bakin’ just for you,” you purr. “Which one do you want, hubby?”

It isn’t a hard choice for Nanami. In a lickity split second, you’re on your back on the table, moaning and writhing for him as he slurps your pussy up. The only time he pauses is when the oven dings. 

THE END.

But lying beneath your panting, sweating husband as he ruts into you from behind doesn’t make even the least bit of your pussy twitch. While the foreplay started off good, it started during a moment where you were just chilling, reading a book, kind of hungry, and not in the mood for sex…but of course, your husband can’t read the room and is always thinking with his dick. 

So when he proceeds to speed up and repeat that “oh, yeah, oh, yeah” mantra that he does when he gets close, you lie there on your tummy and let it happen, just letting him enjoy it.

You feel like you owe him this. After all, you did take him away from his job and responsibilities as a businessman for a seven-day trip at a resort along the Caribbean sea. Maybe lackluster sex isn’t too bad. Not like other things in your marriage. 

And you are reminded of those things when you feel him pull out and spray his cum on your ass, stilling his hips and letting out a loud grunt as he grips your ass so tight that you wince with pain. When he finally lets out a sigh of relief, he stares down at you, a lazy smile on his face. “Did you cum?” he asks. You nod though you certainly didn’t. But you are the dutiful wife, moaning when you should and pumping up his ego. 

Satisfied, your hubby gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and rolls off of you, leaving you lying naked on the pristinely white sheets of your king-sized bed. You purposely ordered a suite for the two of you for this trip, complete with sofa bed, a vanity for your makeup, a mini-bar, and a balcony overlooking the beach. Perfect for a “baection” with your man to get your marriage back on track and spend time together…or so you thought. 

Once again, reality smacks you in the face when he moves to the edge of the bed naked, showing off his toned body. He truly is a beautiful specimen, but if any woman got him in the bedroom now, they would dumb his ass before he could bust a nut.

The sex while you were dating was quite good, but now? He barely takes the time to make you cum. One could argue that it’s because of his demanding career, but you always take the time to make him “arrive” when you are intimate. 

But him? Crickets. Not to mention no consideration for your pleasure, no care, and no spark. You can’t remember the last time he even attempted to make you cum!

And then…there is the worse part. You turn over on your side as he slides on his robe. “You’re not gonna cuddle?” you disappointedly ask. Your husband pulls a face like he doesn’t believe you’re serious. “You know I don’t cuddle after sex, Y/N. It’s nasty.” 

You scowl at him. He didn’t used to be like this at all. He used to snuggle with you afterwards. Now after sex he is more concerned about cumming and then cleaning up, barely regarding you as his wife. “And cumming on my ass isn’t?” you ask, your tone snipped. He pauses from tying his robe and grimaces. “Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to join me, but not with that attitude.” 

You rise from your position and get under the covers, the cool sheets feeling like silk against your naked body. “I’m sorry, I just…we never cuddle anymore. I thought this trip would change that.”

Your husband only sighs as if you pouring your heart out to him is more of an inconvenience to his shower than not. “We can cuddle after my shower, Y/N. Don’t be so impatient.” 

And then he is gone, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving you alone to feel hurt. And then that hurt stews into irritation. When you hear the water running, it steams just as your anger does.

You start to wonder what you did any of this for. Stressing over the best resorts and just to appease a husband who could care less about the waning romance in your marriage? Four years together, one year married, and all of it hanging on a thin thread because he refuses counseling, therapy, or to talk about your issues. 

Your anger pushes you to rise from the prison of the bed, wipe your hubby’s spunk off your ass with some tissues, and get dressed in your brand new bikini. It is a vibrant yellow that makes your brown skin pop and makes your ass look absolutely delectable. It is among one of the pieces of sexy vacation outfits that you brought along for this vacation. After dressing, you begin packing your beach bag, barely turning around when you hear the shower shut off and footsteps approach. 

“Hey, where ya goin’?” your husband asks as if he didn’t just reject you. You don’t turn around as you toss sun tan oil and a romance book in your bag. “I’m going to the pool,” you snippily reply. “Alone.” 

Your husband is silent, watching you pack. “But I thought we were gonna cuddle.” You scoff, finally turning to face him dripping wet in his towel. “Well, we could’ve, but you wanted to shower first after fucking me when I told you about three times that I wasn’t in the mood.” 

You watch his face change from confusion to irritation. Yet another fight and you’ve only been on this ship for a day! “So now I’m the bad guy now?” he scoffs. “You always do this, Y/N. You always wanna twist shit around on me when you don’t get your way!” 

You tilt your head at him, glaring daggers. “When I don’t get my way?” you parrot, enraged.

You could smack him with the sunscreen you’re holding gripped in your hand. “All I did was ask for a fucking snuggle with my husband who only shows me affection when he’s got his dick in me.” 

“That isn’t true!” he barks. You scoffingly laugh. “Oh, it’s not? I had to beg you to come on this vacation just to try to re-spark our romance…and you didn’t even wanna do that!”

You had been planning your introduction to the idea for months, praying that he would agree. He only agreed when you mentioned that you would pay for it and all he had to do was take off for the week. Thank God for your high-paying job and you saving up money for this trip. 

Your husband stands before you now, fuming and fumbling for something to say. You continue to pack until completion and grab your wedges and key card before putting on your sunglasses. “I’ll be back up later,” you grumble. “Don’t wait up.” And you leave him standing in his towel, shutting the hotel door behind you before venturing off to the pool for a cool dip and a cool drink. 

Your pool time to decompress proves to be a good plan. Deciding that the pool is too crowded for your liking, you head to the adults-only area complete with two bars, hot tubs, and ocean views galore. You go to the bar to order yourself a pretty and strong cocktail to take the last ten minutes out of your head.

As you sip on your drink with its pineapple and orange wedges on the glass, your phone rings in your bag. You fish it out, grinning as your friend’s name flashes across the screen. Thank God for the wi-fi package. “Heeeey, babes!” she shouts when you answer. Hearing her voice makes you homesick instantly. “Hey, babes,” you greet. “God, am I happy to hear from you.” 

“I guess the plan isn’t going well,” she replies. “I was gonna ask how your trip is.” 

You cross your legs on the stool, showing off your legs and skin glowing with sun tan oil for all to see. “Oh, I’m loving it, but not being in the same room with a man who won’t even cuddle me after fucking me.” You have admitted some things to your friend about your romance issues in your marriage, but not this. 

“Daaamn, it’s like that?!” she gasps. “Girl, you should've been divorced that loser! I don’t know why you’re even bothering with this BS. You’ve only been married for a year!” 

She’s been telling you this since you got married, reluctantly becoming your maid of honor despite her clear disdain for your fiancé. “But we’ve been together for four,” you remind her. “I can’t just walk away from that. When things are tough in a long term relationship, you try to work ‘em out!” 

‘Until you can’t anymore,’ a little voice in your head remarks. ‘And maybe you’ve reached that limit.’ You wipe the thought away with another sip of your cocktail, your tastebuds exploding with the taste of rum and guava fruit. 

“Yes, but why bother if you’re not happy?” your friend asks. “I mean, are you doing any of this because of you or him?” 

You stop short, thinking about this. Is any of this for you anymore? What about your happiness? Your feelings? “This is for both of us,” you finally reply. “I can’t go on like this anymore. No touching, kissing, or romance…” 

Lately, it’s been happening more since your husband’s promotion as you expressed to your friend months before. The dates have been dwindling, the connection is fading, and the sex is less than enjoyable. You aren’t happy, but you aren’t willing to give up either. 

“How’s he been on the trip?” your friend asks. You use your straw to stir the ice around in your glass. “Just not paying much attention to me, drinking a lot…looking at other women.”

You wince as your friend begins to explode with rage. “EXCUSE ME?!” she bellows. “Oh, heeeell no! You’re gonna have to get even, girl. If he’s gonna do what he wants on this trip, so will you.” 

“What does that mean?” you ask, not entirely sure you want to know the answer. She is happy to elaborate regardless: “It means finding the hottest guy there and getting some vacay dick, no strings attached.” 

You nearly choke on the bit of pineapple wedge you bite into. “I can’t cheat on my husband!” you hiss into the phone. “What kinda girl do you think I am?!” 

Your friend huffs in response. “Fine, then just flirt. Y/N, this is about your enjoyment too! You’re there for another six days, so why not make the most of it with an international stud?” 

You can’t believe you're hearing this. You must have heatstroke. “You’re insane,” you scoff. “I can’t just pick some random guy and—“ You cut yourself off reaching across the bar for a napkin only for your hand to brush against someone else’s. 

“Oh, sorry!” you gasp. “I wasn’t paying any….” Your words immediately die when you catch a glimpse of the red-hot stud sitting next to you at the bar. Literally, his long hair is red-hot, cascading down to his broad shoulders and chest exposed through the few unbuttoned buttons to his Hawaiian top. He is a big guy, at least six-foot something and all muscle as he sits in the stool next to you, bigger than you even while sitting down.

Your eyes trail down to his red trunks hanging loosely from his muscular thighs and calves right down to his big feet in his open-toe slides. Your eyes lecherously slide back up to his beefy arms, one of them inked with a sleeve, and the sharp, toothy smile he gives you. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he replies, his crimson eyes kind, sparkling in the summer sun. “It’s my bad. I was actually gonna ask what drink that was.” You are so gobsmacked by this sexy stranger than you barely hear your friend screaming at you. “Y/N?!” she screeches. “Who is that?! Is he hot?!” 

“Gottagocallyoulaterloveyabye,” you say in a rush before hanging up. The red-hot stranger continues to smile, making you sweat more than the hot rays above. “U-Uh, it’s called a Sex On The Beach.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach curl. Even his laugh is sexy! “Interesting drink name,” he chuckles. “I heard they have a Cherry Popper and somethin’ called a Pink Pussy here too. Bakugou likes those.” 

“Bakugou?” you question. He tuts, smacking himself on the forehead with a sheepish smile. “Oh, sorry; my husband.” 

Your eyes glide down to the gold band on one of his thick ring fingers. Of course, he’s married. “Oh,” you sigh, wilting in disappointment…but why? You’re married! “I’ll have to try those ones. My husband ain’t a fan of cocktails like that; he calls them girly.” 

You may as well let the stranger know that you’re married too. It’s only right…right? “Girly or not, they’re still hella good!” he laughs. “I know me and my man don’t care. I’m Kirishima, by the way.” He sticks one of his big, calloused, scarred hands out for a shake. You ignore the way your pulse jumps as your palm connects with his. 

Kirishima? Where have you heard that name before? Suddenly, it clicks. “Wait, are you—“ 

“Red Riot?” he chuckles. “Just don’t blow my cover. I think the Hawaiian shirt is working.” You are shocked. You’ve never met a celebrity before, let alone a pro hero. You’re not used to seeing him without his gear either! 

“It’s a pleasure, Red Riot,” you whisper, once again shaking his hand. It’s really just an excuse to feel his calloused palm gripped in yours again. “So you guys are here on a much-needed vacation?” you ask, sipping on your drink.

“Emphasis on ‘much-needed’,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Plus it’s our fifth year wedding anniversary and we wanted to celebrate. We’ve been together since our UA days.” 

High school sweethearts?! You could melt right here on your stool. “That’s so sweet!” you coo, raising your glass to him. “Well, happy anniversary to the both of you.” The redheaded hunk smiles, blinding you. “Well, thank you…uh…” 

“Y/N,” you introduce. “L/N.” The pro’s raises his sexy, pierced brow in interest. “Full government?” he chuckles. “Ejirou Kirishima then. My friends call me—“ 

“Oi, shitty hair!” someone barks from the lounge chairs. “What’s the hold up?! You went to get drinks five minutes ago!” You turn your head to the rough n’ gruff-sounding voice, nearly dropping your drink at the sight of the platinum blonde stud standing before you. 

He is ALL man, just as his husband is: big, tall, all muscle, and all tattoos. In opposition to his husband, Dynamight has two sleeves plus a large dragon tattoo snaking around his left slave. Its tail trails up to his orange swim trunks that match the black skull tank top he wears. 

Despite the Raybans covering his eyes, you can tell his eyes are as intense as his handsome face etched in seriousness is. The sun glows against his blonde undercut and the piercings glinting in his ears. His plump bottom lip and brow are pierced as well, definitely exposing you for your fetish. 

The redhead turns to you with a smirk. “It’s Kiri, actually,” he whispers. He then rises to greet his husband, smiling extra big. “Sorry, babe; I got caught up talkin’ to my new friend here. Y/N, this is my husband Katsuki Bakugou.” 

When Bakugou finally stops in front of you, you have to use every ounce of energy to appear normal while sitting with the two mountain-sized pros while they stand over you. Bakugou takes his shades off, putting them on his forehead. Those vermillion eyes are like lasers, intensified by Bakugou’s brooding look your way. His stare is hotter than the damn sun and you lose your cool. 

“N-Nice to meet you,” you stammer. You stick your hand out for a shake. Bakugou stares at it for a brief moment before he takes it in his inked hand. “Likewise. You tryin’ to steal my husband from me?” His expression is so steely that you nearly miss the quirk at the corner of his mouth. 

“He’s joking,” Kiri chuckles, nudging Bakugou in the arm. “Don’t scare the poor lady! I was just telling Y/N here that we’re on our anniversary trip.” Bakugou rolls his eyes but his cheeks are flushed pink. “Ya might as well tell it to everybody on this fuckin’ island.” 

Kiri laughs, pressing a kiss to his husband’s cheek. “So are you here on your own anniversary trip?” the redhead curiously asks. You mentioned your hubby.” 

“Oh, uh…” You freeze, thinking of something to answer with. “Maybe with friends?” Kiri adds. “Family? Or a solo traveler? Which would be cool too!” 

“Jesus, shitty hair, what’s with the third degree?” Bakugou criticizes, glaring at his husband through his shades. The redhead goes red in the face, somehow making himself look sexier. “Sorry. I might’ve had too much before this.” 

“I’m here with my husband,” you finally answer. “Nothing too special.” You take a sip of your drink to cool yourself down and give yourself some liquid courage. Discussing your marriage woes with strangers isn’t ideal for a starter convo for you, yet here you are. The couple look confused and quite perturbed at your statement. “What does that mean?” Bakugou asks, raising a pierced brow at you. 

You shrug, feeling hot all over and the breeze from the ocean provides no comfort. You shouldn’t have talked. “Just that it’s not an anniversary trip or a honeymoon. It was my idea for a vacation.” You almost say that the entire trip came out of your pocket as well. “We’ve been together for four years, married for one.” 

“Well, that’s somethin’ to celebrate!” Kiri exclaims, obviously trying to lighten things up. “And if you’re thinkin’ up fun trips like this, he should feel lucky to have you.” The genuine nature of his tone and the kindness in his eyes nearly make you fold. “You wouldn’t be the first to think that,” you bashfully reply, “but thank you.” 

Kiri looks like he wants to say more but a tray of shot glasses wedged with lime and filled with clear liquid stops him short. “Shots on the house for the happy couple?” the bartender asks with a grin. When he motions to you with the tray, you realize with horror what he’s referring to. “O-Oh, we’re not—“ 

“Don’t be so coy, honey,” Kiri laughs, giving you a wink. “Thanks, sir! We’d love free shots!” He takes the tray from the bartender with no problem and gives him a thankful grin. You stare at him, wondering what in the world just happened and if you’re possibly hallucinating. Bakugou nudges your hip with his, smirking. “Don’t think nothin’ of it. You looked like you needed some tequila.” 

He passes you a shot, the strong aroma nearly singeing your nostril hairs. An open invitation. After all, how often do you find yourself drinking with celebrities? Let alone pro heroes? And it is a vacation. “I guess I do,” you giggle, taking the shot from his thick fingers. You ignore the way your stomach flip flops as your fingertips brush his. “Cheers then!” 

Bakugou’s eyes are full of mirth and interest. “To what?” he asks. You give him a secretive smile, placing a lime wedge in your mouth and sucking on it. You think the couple’s eyes flitting down to your mouth is just a trick of the sun. “To an unforgettable trip,” you respond. 

Clink! 

The three of you clink shots and down them in unison, laughing when Kiri coughs his lungs out. For the next fifteen minutes or so while Kiri orders cocktails for himself and Bakugou, you chat. 

You learn about Musutafu, their home in Japan, is riddled with even more pro heroes than in the U.S. 

You learn about Kiri’s love for spicy foods and Bakugou’s secret obsession with the manga series 

‘A Sign of Affection’ that you both gush over. You tell them about your job and daily life; your likes and dislikes; your relationship with your husband. 

You notice the way Kiri keeps a hand on Bakugou’s knee while sitting to stop him from bouncing it so much. Your eyes catch the way Bakugou’s fingers toy with the hair at the nape of Kiri’s neck. Little things like this make you envious. Not just of them, but of the fact that you can’t join in such PDA. Your husband would never hear of it. 

By the time the convo comes to an end, you feel that buzz and rush of warmth from your drink and three tequila shots. And that recklessness that causes you to eye the couple’s crotches too much.

You should lay down before you do something you’ll regret. “You two should probably head back to your seats,” you tell the couple. “That family with the five kids looks awfully desperate for a chair.” You nod at the stressed-looking couple hollering at their kids to pick up their beach towels and stop fighting. 

Bakugou grumbles something, already getting up to lay claim on their chairs. “Well, maybe we’ll see you around again,” Kiri says with a smile. “Me and Bakugou are thinkin’ of going to Club Paradise. You should bring your man along.” You blink in confusion before your brain, fuzzy from the tequila and the couples’ mixed cologne, realizes that he means the resort’s nightclub. 

“Or just bring yourself,” Bakugou cuts in, not even caring how this suggestion sounds. “Sounds like your man is a wet blanket…no offense.” He shrugs passively though he doesn’t look like he’s that apologetic.

You’re sure the tipsy details you provided to them about your hubby doesn’t help: he doesn’t dance, he hates going out, and he’s all about work. “It’s fine,” you chuckle. “He might be interested, but we’ll see. I’ll give it some thought.” 

“You should,” Kiri replies, unintentionally flexing as he stretches. You do your best to not stare. “A good drink and a dance always helps to…ease the tension.” Your ears perk at the way he says the last three words: seductive. Suggestive. A hot promise lying between the lines. If he meant it to come off this way, he succeeded because your body instantly responds. 

“Especially with good company, I’m sure,” you say, shocking yourself by flirting back. Even more so with the way you stare straight at Kiri and Bakugou while you say it, memorizing their eye color for later. The two look like they want to say more to you, but they are interrupted by two pineapples being shoved at them. 

“For Mr. Kirishima?” the bartender calls. Their drinks are done which means they are leaving now. You feel a pang of disappointment, but it ebbs somewhat when Kiri shoots you a smile. “See ya around, Y/N,” he says before walking off with his husband. As they leave, Bakugou turns back to look at you, his crimson eyes playing with you over the rim of his shades. 

When you turn around to order a cool drink of water (because you desperately need it), your bikini bottoms feel sticky and you’re bothered. Extremely bothered. Especially when you sense that the couple is still eyeing you down from the back. Your nipples tingle beneath your bikini top and everything feels too stimulating. You haven’t had any guy make you feel this horny in years, let alone your husband! 

Maybe you will take your friend’s advice tonight. There is no shame in flirting and having a little fun that doesn’t involve infidelity. Luckily for you, your husband has the same idea that the hot couple did: a night at Paradise.

When you go back upstairs for a shower and a nap, he peppers you in apologetic kisses. “I thought a lot about what you said earlier and I wanna make it up to you. Tonight will just be about you and me.” You believe him when he says this, trusting his word….until you actually get there. 

After a shower, a nap, and some dinner at the buffet, you dress in your vacation clubbing finest: a short, backless dress that ties at the neck and some strapped gold heels with your white toes out. You leave your braids down, spray some fruity body mist on your skin, slather your body in shimmery oil, and you feel delicious as you stare at yourself in the mirror. 

You wonder, briefly, if the sexy couple you met earlier will think so too. You’d be lying if you said you aren’t looking forward to seeing them tonight if they come. It’s the only thing worth staying for as you watch your drunk husband flirt with an Amazonian woman with the skin-tight dress, spray tan, and veneers right in your face. You can’t even enjoy the beautiful, tropical ambience or the music because of how irritated you are. 

First, your husband decided to pre-game by ordering a whiskey with dinner. Now he’s here barely spending time with you when you look like a whole snack and disrespecting you?! He wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t pay for the trip!

The woman gives a raucous laugh at something he says, her teeth reminding you of a camel’s. “I can’t believe you live so close to me! What’s it like there? Are the guys as handsome as you?” 

Your husband grins, sloppy and proud. You decide you’ve had enough and stroll up to them, putting a possessive hand on his shoulder. “Yes, they are,” you reply to the irritated woman. You whip your husband around to face you, fixing his collar. “Babe, why don’t we go get some drinks? There’s tons of cheap choices.” 

At the mention of more booze, he nods and goes into his shorts for his wallet. Then he pats himself down. Then he checks his phone. “Shit, I left my card in the room,” he huffs. “Why don’t you get the drinks, babe? You’ve got your money, right?” You stare at him, your anger boiling like hot soup. “You left your credit card upstairs?” you hiss. 

“But it was your idea to come here. Not mine.” Your husband begins to look around the room, concerned about other people but not you. “Listen, let’s not do this here, especially in public. Just get us some drinks and we can discuss this later.”

He gives you a look like he isn’t down with your “BS” tonight and you quickly storm off, heading to the bar. You could leave him standing here if you wanted to. Then he can be concerned with what other people think. 

You are so angry that you nearly miss someone calling your name from the end of the bar. You look and your heart flips at the sight of the sexy couple that have been invading your thoughts since your first meeting at the pool.

Both are wearing Hawaiian shirts in differing ways (Kiri’s is slightly unbuttoned at the chest while Bakugou keeps his open to expose his white wife beater underneath) and shorts that don’t drag your attention to their dicks at all. 

“Hey, you made it!” Kiri announces, looking overjoyed to see you. Bakugou sits on a stool, a smirk playing on his juicy-looking lips. “So she decided to show up. Where’s your husband at?” 

He looks around the club glowing with pink and purple lights shaped like palm leaves.

“Oh, chatting away with new friends,” you passively reply, so glad that you sprayed yourself with your favorite body mist. “So nice to see you two again.” Bakugou shrugs, his eyes flitting across your form. “Well, we did say we’d be here.” 

“Correction: I said we MIGHT show up,” Kiri states, earning an eye roll from his husband. “But now that you’re here, I’m glad we decided to come tonight. You look great.” His crimson eyes drink in your outfit and legs glowing with shimmery, gold oil, much to your satisfaction. “You two don’t look too bad yourselves,” you flirt, shooting them both a smile. “The Hawaiian print fits you.” 

“Bakugou hates it,” Kiri whispers, making you giggle. He raises a brow at you, curious. “So your man sent you to get drinks? Or are you just that independent?” 

You can tell he is trying to joke with you, but knows that your answer is the latter. “Both,” you sigh. “He’s a little occupied right now, but he wanted us to come here tonight. Something we could both do together.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. What a crock of shit. “And where’s he at now?” Bakugou wonders aloud, still looking around the room. Why he wants to meet your spouse so badly is beyond you. “He should be right…”

You turn, pointing an acrylic nail behind you at the spot where your husband was before…but he is gone. Your stomach drops and you begin to look around the club at unfamiliar faces. He couldn’t have…he wouldn’t… 

Then you hear his ridiculous, drunk laugh and peer across the dance floor where he is sitting in a wicker chair with another woman with enough Botox in her face that her muscles don’t move. You feel your anger reach its breaking point. He left you. He left you.

“Hold my spot,” you growl to the couple, and then you’re storming off, titties and hair angrily bouncing as you do. Your eyes are set dead on your husband, ready to tear him a new one. 

When you finally stop in front of him, it takes him a while to even register your presence. In the time you were at the bar, he has gotten even drunker, his collar askew and his eyes glassy. “There you are!” he exclaims.

You place a hand on your hip, glaring down at him. “And here you are, abandoning me and talking to a chick who isn’t your wife.” 

The Botox woman’s face pales and she scowls at your man. “Your wife?” she scoffs. “You didn’t tell me you were married! Where’s your wedding band?!” Your eyes shoot down to his hand. Sure enough, it’s gone. He took it off. 

“That was just so I wouldn’t lose it!” your husband quickly protests. He stands and puts his hands up as if calming a crazed animal. “Relax, babe. She’s just interested in a possible investment in my company.” You cut your eyes to the woman sipping her martini, looking like a kid caught in the cookie jar. “Oh, I’m sure she is,” you mutter. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

You turn and begin to walk off, but you hear your husband sigh, “Oh, here we go”. That enrages you even further. You storm off to a secluded area in the club, arms crossed and fuming. Your husband follows, looking aloof to your rage. “What’d I do now, Mommy?” he drunkenly asks.

You shove him, earning a few looks of interest and alarm. “Don’t talk to me like that!” you hiss. “How could you just abandon me like that in a place I’m unfamiliar with and with people that I don’t know?!” 

Your husband glares at you, confused and irritated. “I didn’t abandon you! You were getting the drinks!” 

But you barely listen to this half-assed argument, firing off like a firecracker. “That’s the other thing; you wanted to come here tonight and you left the room without your money. So now your wife has to pay for everything while you get drunk off of my dime and flirt with other women.”

You flash your hand at him where your diamond ring glistens. “And I didn’t leave my ring either!” 

Your husband rolls his eyes, his face growing red. “I wasn’t flirting with—“ 

“Oh, save it!” you snap. “Or were you too trashed those other times too that you don’t even remember?” He pulls a face, looking at you as if you’re the crazy one. “What is this about, Y/N? Why are you being this way?”

You can feel tears pushing at your tear ducts, but you push them away; you refuse to cry in public. “I wanted to come on this trip for us to get closer,” you lament. “For us to build that romance again; that spark that we’re missing! And you’re not even trying even a little bit!” 

And instead of showing you compassion and understanding, your husband continues to neglect and invalidate your feelings. “Listen…I don’t know what you want me to fucking do,” he tiredly sighs. “I can’t be the perfect man that you’re looking for, Y/N. He doesn’t exist.” 

‘Clearly,’ you bitterly think. He has shown you that. 

“I do everything for you and this is how you repay me,” he scoffs, still scowling. “Well, fine, if you feel that way, I’ll just leave you be.” He takes a step back and then turns around, walking towards the exit. Your eyes widen at him, gobsmacked. “Wait, you’re leaving?” you gasp. “You can’t be serious. You’re gonna leave me here alone?” 

Then your husband turns around and you think he’s going to apologize; to tell you he is just joking…but then he motions his hands at you in a ‘shoo, shoo’ motion as if you are a mere, pesky fly. “Come upstairs when you’re done acting like a bitch to me,” he cooly says. And then he leaves you alone for good, standing in the club completely humiliated and heartbroken. 

Luckily, someone comes to your rescue to save you from your heartbreak. They tap you on the shoulder and you turn to see Kiri standing there with a gigawatt smile on his handsome face. “Excuse me, miss; me and my husband saw you across the bar and really dug your vibe. Can we buy you a drink?”

He gives you a wink that somehow masks the heartbreak you’re feeling. “Just make sure it’s strong,” you joke back. 

He begins to lead you back to the bar where Bakugou sits, sipping on a mai tai. “Did you find your husband?” Kiri asks, taking the mojito that Bakugou passes to him. “Where’s he at? I thought we were meeting him.”

You stare warily at the pros, biting back tears. “Uh…he wasn’t feeling too good and went upstairs,” you lie. 

Bakugou sees right through it like it’s glass. He takes a final sip of his drink, draining the glass, and nearly slams it on the bar. “Y’know, you’re just as bad as this one when you lie,” he roughly says, nudging Kiri in the arm. “Eyes goin’ off to the side, a little pause like you’re thinkin’ of somethin’ on the spot…you’re not slick.” 

You feel your body flush under the strobe lights. ‘Oh, no,’ you think, lamenting to yourself. ‘Now he’s gonna ask you why you lied, you dummy!’ 

But to your surprise, Bakugou leans one beefy, inked arm over the bar, waving down the bartender. “But if you’re truly hellbent on coverin’ your man’s back, we won’t push it. If anything, I respect it…can’t understand why the goofy left you here though.” He waves a hand again at the bartender, growing irritated at being ignored. 

“Yeah,” Kiri agrees, standing behind Bakugou’s stool and rubbing his shoulders to calm him. He is so tall that he towers over you, somehow making you feel more safe than intimidated by his sheer size. “It’s kinda weird he would just leave without you, unless he had food poisoning or somethin’.” 

Maybe it’s the hot wash of lights or the men accompanying you, but you feel the truth push at your throat. “He didn’t,” you admit. The couple immediately turn their attention to you. “I caught him talking to another woman, we had a fight, and then he left.” 

Kiri blinks his crimson eyes at you. “He left you alone?” he asks in disbelief. “Here?”

You slowly nod, biting your lower lip to keep from crying in front of these two strangers. “He told me to come upstairs when I stopped being a bitch,” you add, cracking a wry smile at the two. “Can you believe this is my marriage?” You laugh it off, but the couple can tell that it is fake and icy.

“Shit, I already thought the guy was a loser; now, it’s a fact for sure,” Bakugou grumbles. 

“Leaving your wife or girlfriend in the middle of a club is NOT manly,” Kiri growls, eyes flashing with anger. “Good thing we’re with you. We can keep you company as long as you’re here!”

Bakugou passes Kiri's mojito to you, coaxing you to sip. “And you can tell us more about this asshole you decided to marry.” He bangs on the bar, scaring a few people. “Yo, bartender! You’re about to lose your tip!” 

You take a tiny sip of the mojito, your tastebuds exploding with the taste of mint, lime, and rum. Kiri pats the empty stool beside Bakugou and you sit, crossing one leg over the other, your dress riding up slightly on your thighs. Kiri sits on your left, sandwiching you between himself and his husband. 

The bartender returns, sweating slightly and out of breath. “Apologies, Mr. Bakugou! Free rounds for the happy couple?” The couple turn to look at you, asking you in silence. “It’s free rounds, darlings,” you giggle, flipping your braids over one shoulder. “I’d be happy to share…and a rum punch too, please!”  

Two rum punches and three tequila shots later, you are spilling your guts to the couple. The three of you sit in a secluded lounge area overlooking the beach, the silver moon glowing off of the waves softly crashing on the shore.

Most people are on the dance floor or at the bar, so you have privacy with the two hunks who sit across from you in lounge chairs. You sit on a small hammock held between two fake palm trees, talking on and on about your husband’s neglect and bummy, crummy ways. 

Through it all, the couple stay quiet, paying close attention to you. You appreciate their listening ears, feeling better just getting it all out.

“So we packed up and came on this vacay in the hopes of rekindling our romance,” you explain, nursing a glass of water that Bakugou ordered for you. “It was my idea and he went along with it, but…now I’m thinking that this was a total waste of time.” You place a hand on your head, mostly because it is spinning but also because you feel so stupid. 

“For him?” Kiri says, sipping his second mojito. “I’d have to say yes; there is NO gettin’ through a guy like that, sweetheart. But a trip like this for yourself is never a waste! You come here to enjoy the pool, the excursions, and makin’ new friends like us.” 

You laugh, finding his words adorable. “We’re friends?” you giggle, not realizing how this sounds: like you want to be more. “Well, I guess only friends would buy me drinks and listen to me trauma dump.” 

Bakugou clucks his tongue, rolling his vermillion eyes. His eyes are so pretty…like rubies. “It’s not trauma dumping if we wanna hear it, silly girl.” Kiri nods, agreeing. “Bakugou’s right, sweetheart. We like you; plus, you’re the first girl we’ve met here that isn’t tryin’ to have a threesome with us.” 

He doesn’t know how wrong he is. And if he keeps calling you ‘sweetheart’, who knows what will happen next. “I like you guys too,” you admit, flushing bashfully. “You make a cute couple; I’m almost jealous!” 

Bakugou cracks a humored smile, sipping a piña colada now. “Well, don’t be. The bartenders already think we’re together.” His tongue glints with something–a piercing, you realize–as he toys with the straw in his glass. 

Suddenly, a thought pops into your head that you have no business saying aloud: “Wouldn’t it be funny if we acted as a couple this whole trip just for the hell of it? Two sexy husbands and their pretty wife?” You begin to laugh a little too much, your cheeks hurting and tears pricking at your lashes coated in mascara. 

When you stop, you realize that the couple aren’t laughing. They’re just staring dead at you. “Yeah,” Kiri deadpans. “Hilarious.” 

Suddenly, the air feels tense and the magic from the alcohol is fading. You don’t feel sexy or confident anymore; just awkward. You take a couple sips of the water and place it on the “W-Well, it’s getting late and my husband is probably wondering where I am.” 

“No, he’s not,” Bakugou argues. The finality in his tone stops you short, rendering you speechless. “Any dickhead who leaves his wife alone in a club isn’t thinkin’ ‘bout her well-being at all.” His gaze is intense and unwavering as he stares at you over his glass rim. “Sorry to break it to ya, babe.” 

Babe? Sweetheart? What the fuck is going on here? ….And why are you so okay with it? You’re so wrapped up in decoding this situation when suddenly, the couple leave their post and come to sit with you in the hammock. Gently, they both climb in and sandwich you between them, their tree-trunk legs dangling off of the side with you. 

“So why not spend the night with two guys who actually want your attention?” Bakugou asks, his lips just a little too close to your ear. You suddenly lose the ability to function like a human being. “W-What?” you stammer, turning to the blonde. “What do you–” 

“You know what I mean,” he interjects. “Can you really sit here and act like you don’t want us too?” One of his hands lays on your knee, making your skin tingle. 

“We’ve been watchin’ you for awhile now,” Kiri confesses, his hand brushing your fingertips. “It wasn’t our intention to ever do anything with another person on this trip, but when we saw you at the pool…” He pauses, taking a breath. “Shit, Y/N, our want for you was instant.” Your pussy gushes at his sinful confession, leaving your thighs trembling.  

“And when we found out your bitch ass husband left you alone here?” Bakugou’s lips stretch into a smile, his eyes mischievous. “It was a wrap.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Out of anyone else in here, these two happily married men want you tonight? 

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Kiri gently says, taking your silence for discomfort. “If intimacy isn’t on the table for you, we can just stay here, share some drinks, and dance…or if you really feel uncomfortable, just tell us and we’ll leave you be. Your comfort matters to us, Y/N.”

This man barely knows you and he is showing you more consideration than your husband has in months. Bakugou’s lips brush against your ear, the smell of mint and rum on his tongue. “Either way, we wanna make your husband regret ever leaving you here alone tonight,” he murmurs. “So what’s it gonna be, little one?”

Little one. How did he know that name makes you wet?

You have never been hornier than you are right now sitting between these two studs. The tequila and rum you’ve consumed over the hour helps too. It helps you make the first move by turning towards Kiri, cupping his face in his hands, and pressing your lips to his. He makes a small noise of surprise before he melts into your kiss, his soft lips moving against yours. “Mmm,” he hums against your lips, the sound seducing you. 

When you pull away, his crimson eyes are dazed and hooded. You then turn to Bakugou who watches with bated breath. “You get one too, Dynamight,” you giggle before your lips are crushed against his. Just like his hubby, Bakugou’s kiss causes sparks to ignite in the air and your arousal to switch to hyperdrive. The yearning you feel for these two is instantaneous and intense.

When you pull away, you take their hands in both of yours and interlace your fingers. “So I guess it’s your room then, boys?” you seductively ask, peering up at them through your lashes. 

Somehow, moments later, you find yourself in between the two married pros on a big bed, stark naked and their big, hard, throbbing, pretty cocks stiff in your hands as you stroke them up and down, up and down. You keep your dress on, but your straps were tugged off by Bakugou to expose your tits while Kiri stripped off your heels, blushing as he told you how pretty your feet were. 

You pay close attention to their luscious moans and responsive hums of pleasure as your hands, slick with your saliva, twist around the base as you scale them up to their bulbous tips dripping in pre all for you. You take a couple licks at the white pearls, smiling as their moans grow louder at the feeling of your tongue on them. They felt your tongue minutes before once they stripped, letting you indulge in every rippling muscle they had. 

When they finally took off their pants, you were amazed. While both big and veiny, they have their differences too: Bakugou is smooth and curves upward while Kiri is thick, has a happy trail, and has a dick piercing. You gaped at both of them while the two softly chuckled, finding your reaction endearing.

“I’m guessin’ your man is lackin’ in this department?” Bakugou asked, his hand curling in your braids. Staring at the cock in your face, you silently nodded. Severely, your husband was lacking.

Tap-tap.

Bakugou tapped his tip slightly against your lips, his hooded eyes exploding with lust. “Well? You just gonna stare or take care of ‘em?” Kiri bit his lip and watched, silently urging you to do as you wanted to his dick. 

You do just that, sliding Bakugou’s hard cock into your mouth while you continue to stroke Kiri, loving their eyes on you as you take the blonde deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You raise your eyes to him, watching his handsome face flush red as he watches you throat him, his hips slowly grinding to push himself deeper. “Ah, shit,” he sighs, his eyes sexily rolling back to show the whites and red tendrils of his eyeballs.  

Kiri toothily grins at his husband fucking your mouth, still slowly fucking your hand. “Feelin’ good, Kats?” he chuckles. “Me too. She’s bein’ such a good girl, isn’t she?” He sticks two fingers under your chin to catch the drool that has begun to drip down from your lips and sucks your saliva off of them, staring straight at you as he does. 

“Almost,” Bakugou replies, laughing to himself. “She needs to take this dick a little more.” So he speeds up, increasing his speed so the sounds of you gagging and your wet throat flexing around his cock are more intense and lively, causing him to groan.

“Open wide, baby,” he grunts. “Open that throat up for me.” You’re feeling good and used now as he begins to fuck your face, ruining your lip gloss and staining your cheeks with mascara. 

“God, yes, baby!” he groans. “Deeper. Take me deeper.”

You don’t know how much deeper he can go. Your eyes sting with tears as you feel your throat protest against being filled, causing you to gag more. But you push through, breathing through your nostrils and letting the pro fuck your jaw off of its hinges, your spit dripping down to your tits from your chin. 

“Don’t make her choke now, Kats,” Kiri says, though his cock throbs in your palm at the sight of you gagging on husband’s dick. “I still need my turn.” Bakugou huffs with irritation, but slides out, letting you suck in some air. “Fine; just don’t hog her. That’ll piss me off.” 

Then it’s Kiri’s turn. He is thicker than Bakugou so when he slides into your mouth, you feel it. The wet walls to your throat stretch around him as he slides in deeper, causing you to open your throat as if you are preparing to yawn to accommodate him.

The redhead tilts his head back and moans to the ceiling, his big hand gripping the back of your head. “Oh, fuck!” he moans, pumping his hips forward and back, fucking your throat as if it were a toy. 

You feel absolutely, positively used. You feel like the sluttiest woman who has ever walked the earth. And you love every second of it. Bakugou smiles sinfully as he watches you deepthroat Kiri, making his husband moan and whimper as your throat constricts and flexes around hum.

“I knew you’d be good at this, cutie,” he groans. He pulls you off of Kiri to look deep into his eyes. “You’re just our type too: pretty and eager.” 

His lips crash against yours and his tongue slips into your mouth, never mind that you just sucked two cocks. He kisses you passionately and eagerly, relishing and swallowing the muffled moans you make. And then he’s taking Kiri’s cock and sliding it back into your mouth for you, using his hand to push you down on his husband’s shaft. 

“And very small,” Kiri adds, chuckling through panted breath. “Small enough to pick up and put in any position you wanna get fucked in tonight.” He peers down at you through red slits for his eyes as you throat his cock, sucking and glucking as if it is your profession, spit and pre placing your lipgloss. 

“Would you like that, baby?” he murmurs. You peer up at him through your lashes, feeling heat pool between your thighs. “Mmm-hmm,” you hum around his cock. 

Bakugou snatches you away and replaces Kiri’s dick with his, fucking your mouth once more. Your eyes roll back as his cock slides against your throat, filling it, taking it for his own. “Oh, fuck, yes,” he groans, his fist full of your braids. “Take it, baby. You take it so fuckin’ good.”

His muscles tense as he pistons into your mouth as he would a fleshlight or Kiri’s ass, his balls full of cum and slapping slightly against your chin. 

You feel Kiri’s big palm on your ass, stroking it over your dress. “You’re still wearin’ too much,” he growls, squeezing a handful of your ass. Bakugou watches with interest, loving how you look arching your back as you suck him dry. “Not a bad view,” he hums. “‘Specially from this angle.” 

SMACK! 

Your body flinches and you moan around the cock in your mouth as you feel a sting from Bakugou’s assault on your asscheeks. Kiri’s thick fingers curl under your chin, forcing you to stare up at his handsome, flushed face. “Look up at me, cutie pie. Show me those pretty eyes while you suck my husband’s fat dick.” 

SMACK!

Bakugou smacks your ass hard again, definitely using some of his quirk because of the sharp zap you feel licking across your skin despite the fabric of your dress. “Arch that back a little more, babe,” he gently coos despite rudely fucking your throat. “I wanna see that pussy while you suck me off.” 

He pulls the hem of your dress up to reveal the thong settled between your asscheeks..and currently being eaten up by your pussy, wet pussy. Kiri practically drools at the sight, grabbing your ass at the same time Bakugou does.

“A thong?” he tuts. “What a slut we’ve got, Kats.” Bakugou growls in agreement, palming the soft globes of your butt. “Betcha wore this hopin’ you’d get fucked by another man tonight,” he growls. “Or maybe by us.” 

SMACK! 

“Am I right?” he asks. You feel your asscheeks recoil against his palm, the zap of electricity from his sweaty palm making your senses fire up.

“Y-Yes!” you whimper out. Despite the pain, there is pleasure mixed in the stinging sensation, causing your clit to throb against the slick, sticky fabric of your thong stuck against your pussy lips. 

SMACK! 

This time, Kiri does it and he hits very hard. You wouldn’t be shocked if he left a handprint. “Sorry, little one,” he chuckles. “I just couldn’t resist you anymore.”

He continues to spank your ass, lighting fire across your cheeks and possibly using his quirk too to make his hand a lot rougher. Bakugou slips his cock out and feeds you Kiri’s instead, his dick throbbing and twitching as his husband roughly fucks your mouth this time around. 

You feel his sneaky fingers wrap around the thin waistband of your thong, pulling it so it rubs against your needy slit. “Such a little minx,” he continues as he toys with your thong. “Wantin’ to get fucked by total strangers.” 

SNAP! 

He snaps the thin string back into place like a rubber band, making you jump from the slight sting as it hits your skin. “Shit, look at how wet she is!” Kiri groans. “It’s drippin’ all down these thighs.” He and Bakugou stare at the slick staining your inner thighs which you didn’t realize either. You’ve never been this wet before. 

“All of this just for a couple of spanks on that ass and dick in your mouth?” Bakugou chuckles, thoughtfully stroking your asscheeks. “Yeah, we’re definitely not lettin’ you go back to that dickhead now.” 

Kiri pulls his cock out of your wet mouth, causing a string of spit to connect from his tip to your bottom lip. “You’re stuck with us tonight, baby,” he says, his voice low and sultry. “And maybe for the next six days too.”

He lays you back on the bed, dangling your legs off of the edge as he and Bakugou kneel before you. Their eyes glint at you like twin moons, hot with lust. “Now let us show you what we do to pretty pussies like yours.” 

Somehow, you find yourself on your back with the entire room spinning and swirling as the married couple proceed to share your pussy like it is their last meal on their vacation. Sometimes they share, both of their tongues and soft lips sucking, slurping, licking, and caressing every inch of your sensitive, sopping wet cunt. They alternate between each other too, both of them individually eating you out too. 

Kiri is a whole munch, diving deep into the wet depths of your pussy, moaning about how good and sweet you taste. His crimson eyes lock dead on you, paying attention to the way you respond to his tongue flicks and swirls. Your husband has NEVER eaten you out like this: so eagerly and sloppily yet still considering your pleasure and what you need.

You writhe and squirm against Kiri’s mouth, gripping his red locks for dear life. “O-Oh, shit!” you moan. “Oh, fuck yes, yes, yes! That’s s-so, so good!” 

The redhead hums in amusement, tearing the lips on his face away from your wet, puffy ones below with a wet pop! “Such a squirmer,” he cackles, his big hands squeezing the flesh where your thighs meet your ass.

Bakugou, who has begun to fist his leaking, hard cock, has his sights set dead on your pussy. “Hold her down. She’s not gonna do shit when I’m tongue fuckin’ that pussy.” 

The blonde is a little rougher and more possessive than Kiri, but still eager to slurp up everything you give him. He holds one of your thighs, pressing one leg open while Kiri has the other, the both of them working together to ensure that you can’t move as Bakugou eats your pussy with abandon.

You cry and sob at his tongue lashings, the cold metal of his tongue piercing melting like ice cream against the soaking, hot walls of your pussy. 

You feel another tongue caressing the other hole you have down below, the wetness of his spit slipping down your asscrack. “Mmm, fuck, Kiri,” you whine. The redhead grins against your asscheeks, one hand massaging the globes while he wiggles his tongue against your asshole.

“Yeah?” he teases. “You like gettin’ this ass eaten too?” You whimper as Bakugou sucks on your clit at the same time Kiri presses an open-mouthed kiss to your asshole. “Little slut,” he whispers before his tongue is rimming the tight hole of your ass. 

Your eyes widen and your mouth falls slack. You have never had anyone eat your ass before, but this was something you discussed with the couple before coming in here. During the walk back to their room, you discussed all the things you want to try and enjoy in the bedroom, including the possibility of anal sex–something your husband wouldn’t dare to discuss. 

“Hey,” Bakugou suddenly growls, nipping at your inner thigh with his teeth. “Don’t neglect me. I’m the one puttin’ in work down here too.” 

SMACK! 

You shriek, damn near cumming as his palm comes down on your clit, a zap of electricity making your toes curl and your thighs buckle. “I-I’m sorry!” you sob. “I won’t do it again, Daddy, I promise!”

His vermillion eyes glare at you as he smirks, cocky and proud. “Damn right, you won’t; not if you wanna cum…and you do wanna cum, don’t you, little one?” he murmurs before taking your clit into his mouth and gently sucking on the nub. 

He and Kiri continue to slurp at your holes, their saliva dripping down your thighs and your asscrack, soaking you and making your holes even more lubricated. It helps for their tongues to dip in and fuck you, causing your moans to grow louder, so loud that you’re sure that the entire resort can hear you. You dig your hands in their hair and grip their scalps as you feel yourself peaking, your orgasm cresting so much that your back arches. 

“Oh, my God, I’m gonna cum!” you wail out. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna fucking…!”

The two men lick faster, their tongues and lips encouraging you to spill your cum all over them. In a split second, you do and you nearly scream to the heavens as the pleasure engulfs you, washing you away on a wave. The couple moan and growl in appreciation as you spill your cream all over their tongues; they lick away, cleaning up every inch of you. The cum that spills down your asscrack, Kiri catches, feral grunts escaping him. 

When you are finally twitching and whimpering, the two stop, their lips coated in your juices. You watch in awe as they begin to kiss in front of you, mashing their lips together in a sloppy kiss. You could cum again just by looking at them.

“Let’s give this hole a break now,” Kiri suggests, his smile mischievous and lustful. One finger rims your asshole, making you flinch at the sensitivity. “I think this one here needs some more playin’ with.”

He turns to Bakugou, puckering his lips at him. “Get the lube for us, won’t you, hubby?” he teases.

Minutes later, after Bakugou grabs a travel bottle of warming, edible lube from the nightstand, you are turned over and bent over the bed, your ass sticking in the air and gripping the sheets as one of Bakugou’s thick fingers gently probes your ass. “Oh!” you gasp, your eyes rolling behind your head. “Ah, fuck!” 

“Does it hurt?” Bakugou asks. You whimper, shaking your head into the bed, but he thoughtfully strokes your ass, envoking a response from you. “Answer me, little one. Gotta know you’re okay.” 

“N-No,” you squeak. “Just…a lot.” It is a foreign feeling that is different from Kiri’s tongue, but the lube and copious amounts of spit that Kiri provided earlier help a lot. Bakugou slips his finger in a little more, taking in the way your body talks to him. “Nice and slow, little one. Gotta make sure we don’t hurt you.” 

Hurt isn’t even a word in your vocab at this point. Your pussy is gushing like it hasn’t before, slipping down your thighs as Bakugou slowly fucks your ass with his finger, opening you up more and more. “Fuck, you’re so tight here,” he grunts. “I’ve been watchin’ this ass all night. Just wanna fuck you here.” 

SMACK! 

He gives your ass a playful slap that has you singing and crooning like a songbird into the sheets stained in your makeup. “Stretch you out the way you need to be,” he murmurs with want, his cock throbbing and pulsing with need between his thighs. Kiri wraps a hand around his husband’s cock and slowly begins stroking him while he brings his lips over to your pussy. 

“But don’t worry, cutie; we’ll fuck you here too. Can’t neglect her, now, can we?” He puckers his lips and spits on your pussy before slurping it back up, stimulating your kitty while Bakugou continues to fuck the puckered hole of your ass. “Fuck, look at you,” he rasps. “Little vixen is gettin’ wetter from this.”

Kiri hums in agreement, your cream and his spit sliding down his chin.

“All it takes is some fingers in your pretty little asshole, don’t it?” the blonde asks before he adds his tongue into the mix, licking around your hole as he continues to probe the tight hole with his finger. 

“Oh, fuck!” you whimper. “Please! More!” Bakugou laughs, taken aback. “More?” he parrots, grinning. “What, you want these dicks now? Is that it? Are these fingers and tongues not enough for some slutty holes like yours?” 

You can’t help it; his dirty words coax your body to move on its own and you toss yourself back into Bakugou’s finger, taking the digit fully in your ass. “That’s a good girl, little one,” Kiri murmurs, his tongue swirling around your clit. “Fuck yourself on Katsuki’s finger. Make yourself cum again.” 

And you do. The stimulation and the warming lube are too much, making every part of your body sensitive to the touch. “H-Ha, o-oh, m-m-my G-God!” you stutter, your hips bucking like a bull’s. “I-I’m gonna cum again!” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kiri laughs against your pussy. “Do it, cutie. Cum for us again. Make that pretty hole cum for us.” He and Bakugou continue to lick, grunting and moaning into your holes, pushing you further to the edge. 

But instead of that warmth in your core, you feel a tickle in your bladder and you realize with horror what is happening. “Wait, you guys!” you shout in a warning. “Wait, I don’t think…I’m gonna pee! Stop!”

But they don’t and unfortunately for you, liquid squirts and spills wildly from your pussy and into Kiri’s mouth. He sputters in shock though he doesn’t pull away, slurping up every ounce of you. 

“Shit, she squirted!” Bakugou gasps, laughing in disbelief at the scene. “I’m guessin’ her man never made her do that,” he cackles. He dives down and licks some up for himself, moaning in appreciation and satisfaction at your taste. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” 

You don’t even know what ‘more’ looks like for you. You think squirting when you’ve never before just about takes the cake, but as the two men climb up on the bed with you, you know that this is not the case for them. 

Kiri gently rubs your back, placing his palm at the middle of your spine as you huff and puff, exhausted. “Tuckered out, little baby?” he coos. Wordlessly, you shake your head. Despite your exhaustion, your need for their cocks is more. “No?” he chuckles. “Even after all that, you still want us?” 

“Oh, baby, we’re gonna have some fun with you,” Bakugou groans. He hikes you up with ease, sitting you down in his lap, his hard cock throbbing against your tummy. “Tell us you want us to fuck you,” he demands, his eyes drilling hard into yours. 

Your response is automatic, your want ignited. “I want you to fuck me,” you reply. “Want you both inside me. Need you both to fill me up and make each other cum.” You wrap a hand around both of them, earning wanton groans in response to your touch. “Please, Daddies?” you beg. 

That plea and your doe-like, brown eyes peering up at them lead to you straddling Kiri’s lap while his thick cock slides against your slit, nudging your clit and making you slippery enough to slide down his shaft. The big, beefy redhead leans back against the headboard, his big hands massaging your ass while you straddle his thighs, grinding your pussy against the shaft of his throbbing dick. “You feel so good, Kiri,” you moan, gripping his shoulders. 

The redhead jerkingly nods in agreement, biting his lip at the feeling. “You do too. Easy now, cutie. I’m bigger than your husband, so take all the time that you—“ 

Evidently, you already had enough time because you’re suddenly sliding your dripping pussy down on him. You both loudly moan at the explosive pleasure, your gummy walls tight and silky around his velvety, pulsing cock. “That was easy,” Bakugou chuckles. “Cock slut couldn’t wait to take you.” He is on his knees behind you, rutting his cock up against your asshole. 

You feel tears prick your eyes, making them glassy and wet as you bring yourself up and down on Kiri’s thick cock, whimpers and sobs leaving your sticky lips. “Oh, fuck, Kiri!” you sob. “You’re so fucking big! You’re stretching me out so good!”

You can feel it–everytime you come down, you somehow feel yourself stretching more. Despite your husband’s nice penis, he could never make you feel this needy. This desperate to take more. 

Bakugou presses a kiss to your shoulder, his pre-cum staining your asscheeks. “Slowly, baby. There’s no rush for this. I’m lettin’ you use my man, so be grateful.” 

You bite your trembling lip, doing your best to go slow. “I-I am,” you whimper. “Thank you!” The blonde groans at your sweetness, his tip nudging your asshole. 

Kiri watches your bouncing tits as you come up and down on his cock like a little bunny, his face flushed red and his eyes crimson slits. “Such a little sweetheart,” he groans. “And such a sweet little pussy too, f-f-fuck!” He grips your ass tighter, drawing you to him.

“Ride me, angel,” he begs, staring up at you. “Please bounce on my cock. Keep usin’ that dick like a toy, little one. Use me.” 

You do as you’re told and begin bouncing a little faster on him, creating an orgasmic rhythm that takes you both to paradise. You dig your nails into Kiri’s shoulders, damn near breaking skin, but he doesn’t care. Not when your cunt is this good.

“Guess you ain’t the only slut here,” Bakugou chuckles. “Does she feel good, Eji?” The redhead whimpers in reply, his fangs digging into his bottom lip. “Words,” the blonde growls. 

“Y-Yeah!” Kiri grunts out. “So good!” Bakugou hums in enjoyment and satisfaction, tucking his hand between you to rub Kiri’s heavy balls. “Then fuck her back. Don’t make her do all the work.” Kiri does as he is told, raising his hips to meet you as you come down, plunging his cock deeper inside of you. 

As he does this, Bakugou’s tip passes the threshold of your ass a bit, making you gasp. “I’m gonna go in now, baby,” he warns. “Just relax. You feel nice and loose now. It’s fuckin’ gapin’ for me.” You can feel it, the walls of your ass nice and stretched, the cool air making you shiver. 

“Fuck, that’s hot!” Kiri groans. “She’s stretched out here too.” And he’s right–you are so stretched open by his cock that he has no problem fucking you dumb, sliding you up and down, up and down, along his cock slick with your juices and his pre-cum. 

“You ready, baby girl?” Bakugou whispers, his lips toying with your ear. “Just tap my thigh if you need me to stop. That goes for shitty hair too.” It takes a moment to find your words, but you do despite your head dizzy with pleasure. You turn to hook an arm around his head, pulling him closer. “Yes, sir,” you mewl. 

“Just the tip,” he grunts before he slides the rest of the way in, pushing past the rim of your ass. He grunts in pleasure as a strange howl escapes you, making you feel like a totally different person. A stranger. A slut who likes getting fucked by two fat cocks in both of her holes. 

“Oh, my God!” you wail, your head falling against Kiri’s chest. Bakugou slides the tip out an inch and goes back in, repeating this action for a couple of minutes, allowing your hole to grow familiar with his cock. “Easy; just fuck me back slowly. Take your time. Gotta make sure you can take all this dick.” 

The two of them begin to fuck you in unison, Kiri slowing down to match Bakugou’s tempo and not overwhelm you. Their luscious moans and feral grunts fill the bedroom smelling of sex, lube, and mingled cologne and body mist, their sweet whispers of “you’re doin’ so good, little one” and “such a good fuckin’ slut for us” making your body tingle with need. 

At some point, the slow fucking flies out the window and Kiri begins to rut up into you, his hips slamming up against yours. Bakugou chuckles, still rolling his hips slow and easy as he fucks your asshole. “So much for nice and slow. You’re fucking her like you wanna nut, shitty hair.” 

“Can’t help it,” the redhead grunts. “She feels so perfect!” His balls, soaked in your juices, slap against your clit as he pounds up into you, grunting with each thrust. “Goddammit,” Bakugou hisses, “if you keep poundin’ her like that, you’ll make me wanna speed up too.” His balls stimulate you too, your needy button nearly exploding from the pleasure. 

“Go ahead,” you beg. “Fuck me faster! Please!” The couple stare at you in astonishment, slightly pausing to regard you in shock. “Faster?” they ask in unison.

You nod, pressing your face into Kiri’s shoulder. You don’t want them to see your face–you know you look a hot ass mess. Bakugou gives your ass a smack, chuckling as he does. “You’ve got it, little one. Just don’t run from us.” 

For the next blissful minutes–or hours?–, the couple fuck your holes in unison, their cocks frotting and rubbing against one another, making them moan, grunt, and whimper into your ear. You bounce pathetically on their dicks, forced to take all of it as you whimper and sob, tears threatening to drip down your cheeks stained with ruined mascara and foundation. You have never felt this good before. 

Brrring! Brrrring! 

Your eyes open, your vision blurry, and you look down at the nightstand where your purse is. “My phone!” you whine.

Kiri yanks your purse open and takes your phone out, looking at the caller ID. “Oh, it’s the man of the hour!” he jokes. He grins toothily at you, flashing you your phone screen. “Your husband’s calling, baby.” 

‘Oh, shit,’ you think. What time even is it? How long have you been here? He must think you’ve been kidnapped or something! 

“Answer it,” Bakugou grunts. “Put it on speaker.” 

“W-Wait!” you protest, but it’s too late. Kiri answers the phone and continues to fuck you as he stares, his breath coming out in short pants. “Helloooo? Bakugou residence.” 

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, slutty moans as the two men fuck you stupid, Bakugou yanking on your braids while Kiri rubs your clit. “Who are you?” your husband demands. “Where’s Y/N? This is her number, isn’t it?” 

Kiri smirks at you. “Oh, it is, but Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. She’s too busy gettin’ her brains fucked out—something you can’t and won’t do.” 

Bakugou tears your hand off of your mouth, forcing those loud moans and whines to escape you, exposing the truth to your husband about his dirty little wife. “Y/N, answer me!” he shouts.

You do so, moaning Bakugou’s name as his cock fills your ass. Your husband grows enraged, screaming belligerently. “You bitch! How could you do this to me?! I’m your husband!” 

Bakugou snatches the phone from Kiri, giving your husband a piece of his mind now. “Then you should’ve thought about that before actin’ like a damn loser,” he growls. “Now shut the fuck up and stop ruinin’ my fun with your wife. It ain’t our fault you’re gettin’ cucked.” 

He then hangs up before your husband can reply and ruts into you faster alongside Kiri, their thrusts intense and merciful, making the bed shake beneath them. With their dick-alicious dicks and the saucy excitement of your husband hearing you get fucked, you can’t help but feel another orgasm coming on. “M’gonna cum again!” you whimper. “I’m so close!” 

“Cum with me,” Kiri demands, his dick jackhammering into you as you frantically rub your clit. “Cum on that dick, little one. It’s all fucking yours!” 

Bakugou is close too judging by how his cock pulses in your ass and his fingers dig into the flesh of your buttcheeks. “Thaaat’s it,” he coos through gritted teeth. “That’s my girl lettin’ me fuck that drippin’ little hole.” 

It doesn’t take long for all three of you to cum together, the couple’s thrusts stilling for a moment as they fill you to the brim with their spunk.

You moan loudly, so loud that it bounces off of the bedroom walls, as your holes clench around their cocks and your pussy spasms, spilling your honey all over Kiri’s thick, beautiful cock. Your eyelashes flutter and your muscles clench, your intense nut sending you through the stars and across the galaxy. 

When the high fades and you go limp, the couple gently pry you off of their cocks and lay you down on your back. Like a rag doll, your body is limp and loose, allowing Bakugou to hook your legs up to expose your ass. “Stay there,” he grunts. “Stay right fuckin’ there. I wanna cum all over that ass.” 

Kiri kneels over you, his semi-hard cock hanging in your face. “I’ve still got some for these pretty titties too. I want your bitch ass husband to smell us when you go back to your hotel room, cutie~” 

The two fuck their cocks with their hands, sending spurts of cum all over your tits and ass. You gasp at the warm droplets coating your skin, already drying. Then the couple pull you up onto your knees, holding their cocks out for you. They are coated in cum, slick and juicy. “Clean us off, naughty girl,” Bakugou gruffly demands. “You caused it, so it’s your responsibility.” 

You do as told, kitten-licking and slurping up the taste of your holes and their cum from their cocks, relishing the soft moans and hushed swears as you do. Once you finish, the two gently lay you on your back and lick you clean too, being extra gentle with your pussy and putting a soft pillow under your sore ass. Your entire body feels sore, but deliciously so. 

The pros then lay side by side with you between them, Bakugou on your right while Kiri takes your left. The redhead snuggles into your backside, his hair tickling your face.

“You were amazing, sweetheart. You definitely made this trip unforgettable, that’s for sure!” He wraps his big arms around you, encasing you in a warm, sweaty embrace. 

Exhaustion makes your brain foggy and you can barely focus on what he is saying to you. “Mmm-hmm,” you sleepily agree. 

Bakugou tsks, wrapping an arm around your neck, allowing his arm to be your pillow. “Such a baby,” he huffs. “Close your eyes. Don’t fight it if ya need to sleep.” 

In your blissed out, sleepy state, you ask the question, “So I can spend the night?” 

The blonde once again tsks, scowling down at you. “What kinda stupid question is that? Why else would we be cuddlin’ your ass?” He presses a kiss to the crown of your forehead, making your skin flush with warmth. 

Kiri chuckles behind you, becoming the big spoon as he squeezes you between himself and Bakugou, protecting you from the darkness and tomorrow. “That’s a yes. You could even stay the entire trip if you wanted to, cutie.” 

He too kisses you, pressing one softly against your cheek. “And Musutafu’s only a plane ride away,” he adds. “Anything’s possible, baby.” 

You sleepily smile into Bakugou’s chest, feeling his heart beat against your cheek. That all sounds so nice. The three of you? Together? They, your sexy boyfriends and you, their pretty little girlfriend? It sounds so perfect… 

Yet so unpredictable. Tomorrow is only a sunrise away and the future is uncertain. You know eventually, you will have to go back to your hotel room and face your husband. Face your problems. Face the inevitable crash and burn of your marriage. You know that you will have to return home soon and figure things out from there. 

Everything feels unsure right now, but one thing in your mind that remains as you fall off to sleep is for sure: you’re getting a divorce. 

THE END.

You’re jogging toward the trees now, throwing caution to the wind as you follow the sounds of his pain. Just before you cross into the forest, you finally spot your boyfriend’s massive figure, his wine red hair being the giveaway. He’s facing a pine tree, tail stiff and laid low, touching his head and wincing repeatedly.

As he registers your scent and whips around to face you, you understand why: at least 15 black-tipped, spindly death daggers sprout from his cheeks and nose. 

“Valko?” You cover your mouth in shock, and he stumbles closer, falling forward against you.

“Hurts,” he grunts. 

Like always, you struggle to support his large body. Even more so now that one wrong move could further impale him. “What happened?” 

“Porcupines are supposed to be nocturnal,” he says, voice grim and shaky. “This one wasn’t.” 

If you had an extra hand, you’d drag it down your forehead right now. 

Skunks, raccoons, exceptionally angry squirrels—those had all happened before. A porcupine, though? That was new. Almost impressive.

“You just get into all sorts of trouble, don’t you.” Taking a step back, you brace your hands on his chest to examine him. “Let me have a look at you.” 

The quills look like toothpicks dipped in black ink. And while a few of them seem to have barely penetrated his skin, the majority mark the porcupine’s decisive victory. 

“Can you take them out?” he asks, staring down at you pleadingly. “If we hurry, we can still make the movie on time. I know I’m super late. I’m sorry.”

Twenty of nature’s finest knives in his face, and he’s worried about the movies?

“You obviously had a reason,” you murmur, cupping his less-affected left cheek in your hand. “I don’t know if I should, Koko. The tomato bath was one thing, but this… If I do it wrong, I’ll just make it worse.” 

His response is simple: “I trust you.” 

Cute. But not what you need right now.

Blowing out a breath, you stand up on your tiptoes and reach for one of the looser quills. Your fingers barely brush the tip of it when renewed anxiety shoots through you. “No, no. I can’t! I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You couldn’t if you tried.” He snorts, then winces at the pain. 

“Tell that to the porcupine.” You narrow your eyes. “I think it missed the memo.” 

His ears swivel in acknowledgment. He’s 0–2 in battles today. 

“All right, change of plans,” you announce, clapping your hands and turning on your heel. “We can go to the movies another day. Right now, we need to go to the vet.” 

“It’s not that serious,” he protests. “I’d do it myself if I just had a mirror. Let’s go back to the house, and—”

“I’ll get the car ready.” Your word is final. 

His ears droop atop his head. 

Ultimately, you had to ease him into the passenger’s seat so he didn’t accidentally nudge any of the quills. You debated just shoving him into the trunk so he’d have extra room, but figured extraction would be a difficult task in the clinic’s often-packed parking lot. 

In the waiting room, you try to shield him as best you can from quizzical looks and a particularly curious cat, but he’s without a doubt the largest patient in the room. Likewise, once he’s called to the back, his sheer size makes the exam room furniture look like dollhouse accessories. The central table is nearly the length of his tail alone, and it creaks under his every movement. But you stand dutifully at his side, making sure he’s as comfortable as can be, given the circumstances. 

The vet’s entrance is prompt as always—part of the reason why Valko prefers this clinic. The other is the giant fish tank in the waiting room that he gets to busy himself with. Today, he was in too much pain, but he typically holds intense staring contests with its oblivious inhabitants, bragging to you whenever he “wins.” 

“Well, I typically ask, ‘What seems to be the problem?’,” Dr. Song jokes as she shakes both of your hands. “But today, I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

Sighing, Valko scratches at his jeans. “I went out for a run, and I heard something grunting in a bush nearby. I thought it might’ve been a lost pup, so I went to check it out. Anyone would, right?” He looks to you for support. 

Smiling softly, you rub a hand down his back. “Right.” Not in most circumstances, no!

Nodding gratefully, he continues. “As soon as I crouched down and saw it, it whipped its tail at me. Next thing I knew, it had stabbed me a million times.” 

“Well.” Dr. Song sighs and pulls out a pair of tweezers. “You’re not the worst case I’ve seen. Sometimes, it’s the whole face—and neck.” She waves her hand forward, and Valko scoots toward her on the table. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” 

You take a step back to give her some space, but she quickly shakes her head. “Oh no, you stay standing next to him. I might need you to hold him down.” 

──────

Right when you wonder if Valko’s death grip will shatter every bone in your hand, Dr. Song holds up the final quill in triumph. “That’s nineteen quills total. Looks like Mr. Porcupine let you off easy.” 

Valko kicks the air in desolation. “Doesn’t feel like it.” 

“It will when you wake up tomorrow and you don’t have to wonder, ‘How did it even get my nostrils?’,” she retorts, heading to the door. “Now, let me just get your treatment, and you’ll be free to go.” 

The second she steps into the hall, Valko turns to you and whimpers. “It hurts.” 

Frowning in sympathy, you run your free hand through his hair. “How bad?”

“Really.” 

You start to shush him and scratch the backs of his ears how he likes, but approaching footsteps force him to regain his composure. Still, when Dr. Song re-enters the room, he holds your hand a little tighter. 

“All right,” she begins. “I’m going to disinfect and put ointment on the wounds, and…” She pulls out a familiar, conical object from behind her back. 

Valko freezes as soon as he sees it. Your own mouth parts in shock. 

Is that…? 

No way. 

“...to keep them from getting infected, either through scratching or contamination, I recommend you wear this recovery cone for a week. Just to be safe.” 

When she waves the transparent cone through the air, Valko sputters in consternation. “You want to put me in jail?”

“Of course not. You’ve done nothing wrong. But to prevent further irritation, it’s best that for the next seven days, you only remove this from your neck when absolutely necessary. Also, you should avoid certain skin-to-skin activities that may aggravate the entry spots.” 

You understand her implication, but Valko’s tail thrashes in unease. “What…what kind of activities?” 

The doctor smiles down at him. “The usual. Scenting, kissing, anything further than that. Now! Raise your head for me so I can clean the punctures.” 

Before he does, Valko gives you a look that needs no decoding: I think I’m gonna be sick. 

Day 1

Your keys clatter on the kitchen counter as Valko trails inside behind you. 

Knowing he’ll be glum about his current confinement, you try to get ahead of it, hoping you can offset the bad with so much good, he’ll forget about being in plastic prison.

“So, is there anything you want to do this evening? Watch a drama, make double chocolate chip cookies, play a video game? I could order in from your favorite steakhouse if you want. Or we could go for a walk?” 

Despite your efforts, his lips stay curved downward. His ears barely twitch at the mention of his favorite things. 

“Okay, what about—”

“I look dumb,” he mumbles suddenly, blinking at you through the cone. It surrounds his head like petals to a flower, stopping just above his nose. He looks like an upright bullhorn, or perhaps a frilled lizard, but you can’t tell him that. 

“You look safe,” you say instead. “That’s what matters, yeah?”

“Not when I look dumb, too.” With a huff, he reaches behind his head, eager to free himself of Conecatraz. But before he can undo the clasp, you’re crossing your arms and tapping your foot, giving him a withering glare. 

“You know you aren’t supposed to touch that. Put your hands down.”

“Make me.”

Oh, really? That’s how it is?

Scoffing, you cock your head at him, and the first signs of regret appear on his face. “‘Make’ you, huh? Should I call the vet and tell her what you’re up to? I’m sure she has advice for patients who break the rules. Like, maybe if you mess with your cone too much and stunt your healing progress, you’ll just have to wear it even longer to make up for it?” You start to turn, ready to stalk toward the house phone. 

“No, wait!” Lurching forward, he tries to bend down to snuggle you in apology—a favorite habit of his. But you sidestep him quickly, clicking your tongue in admonishment. 

As he loses his balance, he gives you a look of ultimate betrayal.

“Don’t pout at me. I'm doing this for you, okay? You heard the doctor. Where your face is concerned, skin-to-skin contact is off limits for now.”

As if he didn't hear you, he ducks toward you again, desperate to marry his cone to your shoulder. This time, you give his arm a healthy pinch, and he yelps in shock.

“No, Koko. It's for your own good.”

Frustration grows on his face, beginning to claw at your heart, too. He’s never had to limit contact with you like this. Even when you first met, he was stuck to you like a magnet. 

Sighing, you try to bring him some comfort. “Here. Get on your knees.” 

He follows the order without further prompting, sinking to his knees on the kitchen floor. Even like this, he’s still half your height. 

“Come here.” Reaching through the cone’s opening, you pet the top of his head, running your fingers through his soft strands with care. When he leans into your touch, you trace his ears with light strokes and smile when he shudders. Gradually, the deep frown on his face shrinks to a mild line of displeasure. 

He wraps his strong arms around your thighs in a stubborn thank-you, and you can't help but coo down at him. “You’re my big, strong wolf, aren’t you? It’ll be over before you know it. You can handle this, no problem.” 

Day 3

Valko could not handle it, and there were many problems. 

In fact, while he was bored out of his mind the night of Day 2, he pried open his laptop and drafted a list of complaints.

Eating has become an unpleasant experience. While he’s permitted to remove the cone at mealtimes, he must eat in a separate room so your scent doesn’t lure his unprotected self over. Worse, you will not enter the room until he’s refastened the cone around his neck. The humiliation of having to cone himself solely to win your presence is quickly becoming too much to bear. 

You won’t let him go on errands with you, lest he get into something he shouldn't and aggravate his wounds. This makes him incredibly restless—especially when you come home smelling like other people and things, and there’s nothing he can do about it. This causes significant anxiety and emotional distress. 

He usually sleeps with his tail curled around you and his face shoved deep into your skin. This earns him a constant stream of your scent. However, a wall of pillows now separates your sides of the bed. Even worse, he is not permitted to remove the cone for the night. This causes discomfort and loss of familiarity, which undermines the restorative purpose of sleep. He will be sending you any medical bills that arise due to his sleep deprivation. 

Last, but perhaps most important: the cone obstructs his view of you, which he depends on for energy throughout the day. (You’re quick to deem this one questionable, because the cone is fully see through???)

A document of his grievances was taped to your blanket, just over your heart, this morning. 

Clearly, he had a lot on his mind. 

Now, you lie on the sofa watching TV, trying to cuddle with him as best you can. Your fingers are intertwined, and he’s sprawled awkwardly across your lap, face up and eyes begging. You try to ignore the incessant nonverbal pleading, rubbing circles into his skin with your thumb. 

Sometimes, he turns his head into your belly—or maybe a little lower—and inhales as deeply as he can through the plastic. When you gasp and swat at him, suddenly scandalized, he only huffs and grumbles, bringing you closer. “Just let me have this.”

As the sun dips in the sky, he almost relaxes. He grows captivated by the nature show you’re watching, ears going into overdrive from all the birdsongs and animal calls. It’s the calmest he’s been in the last three days, you think—until the “woodland creatures” portion of the show begins.

His mortal enemy lies in wait within.

“It’s not as big as the one that did this to me,” he growls at the porcupine stumbling around on the screen. “He was a monster.”

“I’m sure he was,” you answer automatically. You’re used to this by now. “How else could he have taken you down?”

Valko grunts in agreement, then pauses the TV. “Can we do something else now?”

“Okay.” You squint at him warily. “Something like what?”

Slowly, as if you won’t be able to see him, he trails his hand down your side, gently squeezing at your hip.

“No,” you sigh, firmly returning his hand to him. 

Tuning out his protests, you unpause the show. At that moment, a closeup of the porcupine’s snout fills the screen.

“Can you at least change the channel, then?” he mumbles.

Day 5

Since you’ve known him, Valko has never been one to give up. Driven and scrupulous, he approaches life with an outlook that’s both endearing and exhausting: if not now, maybe later.

It’s no surprise, then, when his attempts to hold and claim you like normal escalate to new heights. 

One time, you catch him in the midst of the most primal desperation. 

It’s not even noon yet, but here he is: laid out nude in the middle of your bed, head propped on his set of pillows while he clutches one of yours to his cone. With his instincts compromised and your scent already flooding his nose, he can’t yet tell that you’ve entered the room. And boy. If you thought he was shameless in public, Valko in private is a whole different animal.

His hand is all but glued to the heavy bulk between his legs, pumping and twisting like he’ll die if he doesn’t. 

His thumb circles his tip as he works his rhythm, abs flexing with each ragged breath. Every soft, broken moan of your name is an axe to your resolve. 

Before you do something you’ll regret, you try to back out of the bedroom and leave. But as soon as one foot is out the door, your shoulder hits the wall with a quiet thump. 

You freeze instantly, your heart dropping to your feet.

There’s no point in hoping he didn’t hear. To Valko, no sound is ever quiet.

He jerks his head toward you immediately, steady pumps getting wilder the moment your eyes meet. “Fuck,” he pants, writhing desperately on the sheets. His massive thighs tremble with every movement, sending tiny shocks of heat to your core. “Fuck.”

“Valk—”

“Please help me. Please, it hurts so bad. I need you so bad, please, it’s been days.”

You bite your lip so hard, you think you’ll draw blood. “You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care what the vet said,” he growls, fist finally coming to a stop. “I care about you.” 

Clinging to resolve, you cross your arms and stay put. At that, he closes his eyes and breathes slow and deep through his nose.

“Just— Help me finish, please. You don’t have to touch anywhere near my face. That’s the rule, right?”

As that pleading stare pins you to the spot once more, you bite your lip in consideration. He’s flushed all over, and a thin sheen of sweat coats his whole body. He really does need your help, but can you risk it?

When his mask slips, letting the hungry glint in his eyes shine through, you know you can’t.

“I won’t touch you, Valko. But you can use this.” Swiftly, you tug your shirt over your head and toss it onto the bed. He catches it with ease, and behind the cone, his face contorts in bewilderment.

“Use it?”

“To finish,” you explain, folding your arms across your bra. “It’s the safest way I can help you right now.”

Gazing at you like you’re a deity reborn, he presses the fabric to his cone’s exterior, right outside his nose. As he inhales, a deep, guttural groan escapes him. “Thank you,” he pants. His hand returns to his reddened length, and he redoubles his earlier efforts. 

Leaking arousal glistens on his skin, and you can hear how much easier it makes things for him. Covered in his own desire, he slides his hand up and down with no friction, creating lewd, wet sounds that echo through the room. 

“Thank you, thank you— Fuck, thank you. I’ve done this like ten times already, and it’s taken me longer every go,” he admits shamelessly. “This is so much better. Not as good as you, but so much better. Thank you.” 

He bucks his hips into his giant fist, and for a moment, you fear your shared bed might collapse under his ferocity. Once he starts licking the cone’s wall, as if he’ll be able to taste your shirt through the plastic, you almost want to avert your eyes and leave the two of them alone together. 

You don’t have long to ponder it. Soon after, Valko comes quickly with a deep groan of your name, coating his skin in spills of white. As he convulses in pleasure, you approach his bedside to stroke his hair through the cone’s opening—just like you have for the last several days. Valko whines at your touch. 

“Shh, baby. It’s okay,” you whisper. “Just two more days, yeah?”

His response is halfway between a growl and a grunt. Chuckling, you bend to kiss his damp, darkened hair. “Just two more days.” 

Day 7

At 12 a.m., you wake to an empty bed. “Koko?”

There’s no response to your call. Groaning, you throw off the covers and stretch your tired limbs. Where did he run off to? It’s barely been two hours since you went to bed.

Hugging yourself to keep warm, you pad into the dark hallway. The home gym is clear, and he’s not in the kitchen sneaking chocolate. Where could he be?

It doesn’t take long to find out.

In the living room, Valko stands at the back door, gazing at the moon through the window. 

He’s clad only in loose grey sweats. More notably, he’s missing his cone. 

The only indication that he knows you’re there is a near imperceptible twitch of his ears. “It’s day seven, did you know that?” he rumbles. 

Suddenly nervous, you shift on your feet. “I did.” 

“So you also know what I’ve been missing the last seven days.” He turns to face you, eyes stormy and narrowed. “What I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. What I begged you to give me, but you refused. Acted like you were doing me a favor,” he spits out, lips curling into a snarl.

In the moonlight filtering through the window, his amber eyes are a new level of otherworldly. Pale, greyish-white slivers flicker across his chest, making his taut abs seem to ripple in front of you. 

After seven days, he looks very, very grumpy.

You get the sense that you’re in trouble. 

“Koko,” you start, stepping forward to placate him, “you know that’s not—”

“Don’t ‘Koko’ me,” he snaps. “That’s reserved for people I’m close with.”

Is he serious? “You know I’m closer to you than anyone.”

“Right now? After this week? I’m not so sure. But you will be.” His tail swishes behind him as he takes a menacing step toward you. “Come here,” he growls out. 

“We can talk about this, but I’m not going to—”

“Three.”

“Okay, are you seriously threatening me with a countdown?”

“Two.” 

“That’s my thing! You know, when you won’t let me get out of bed, or when you bite too hard, or—”

He doesn’t let you get to “one.”

When he bursts forward at superhuman speed, he doesn’t even give you the chance to run. 

You’re in his arms in an instant, thrashing wildly as he tries to pull you both to the floor. “You’re heavy as fuck!” you bark at him. “Let me go!”

“No.” He overpowers you easily, lowering you to the carpet and quickly pinning you there. He only takes a moment to revel in your submission—your high squeaks and whimpers and feeble attempts to swat him off. Evidently, he has bigger plans for you.

While you wriggle beneath him, he deftly kicks off his sweats and quickly deals with your clothes. You’re wearing only a nightshirt—his, you notice all too late—and completely vulnerable to his impatience.

He rips a line straight down the middle, clumsily shrugging the worn fabric off you. While you’re too busy gawking to register his actions, he slides down your body, coming to a halt at your traitorously wet heat. 

“Usually, at least a little bit of my scent lingers here,” he says, inhaling you deeply. “You’ve lost it after not taking me for so long. But we’ll fix it, won’t we?”

When you don’t respond, his eyes flash up at you. “Won’t we?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, signing away your fate.

“Yeah, we will.” Surging forward, he places an open-mouthed kiss to your entrance, swirling his tongue into you without warning. His ensuing groan could start a national scandal. 

“I’m gonna let you go, all right?” He nips your inner thigh. “Don’t try to run from me. I’ll catch you.” 

He watches closely as he eases off of you, but there’s no need—you obey. 

“Good girl,” he mocks, and you break his gaze with a huff. 

Chuckling, he sweeps his hair back and lies down on the carpet, grabbing your arm and dragging you to him. “Sit on me.”

“…What?”

“My face. Sit on it.”

“…What?” 

“Oh, I get it. Is this a ‘make me’ kind of thing? Well, if you insis—”

“No!” You hold your hands out in defense, grimacing when he grins at you. “You know we’ve never…done that before.”

He shrugs. “First time for everything. Hop on.”

You stay put, shaking your head with vigor no matter how hard your center pulses. “What if you can’t breathe?”

“Don’t need to.”

“I think you do, but okay.” Playing with your fingers, you search for another excuse. “What if I’m too heavy?”

Valko’s smile slips, and his top lip curls as he looks at you flatly. “Now you’re just insulting me.” 

In retrospect, you should’ve known that one wouldn’t get you very far.

“Fine,” you concede shakily. Crawling toward him, you put your hands on either side of his massive body and sit down on him in a straddle. Gingerly, you scoot up, and up, and up, until your hips are right below his chin. His smirk widens all the way. 

“Last chance to back out,” you offer helplessly. How would grilled porcupine taste?

“In your dreams.” In an instant, his arm shoots out behind you and guides you forward. You cry out the second your sensitive flesh meets his skin, nearly cursing from the foreign sensation. 

For a moment, all he does is breathe you in. Lewd, deep inhales, trying to siphon the scent from your depths. “Missed this,” he murmurs, words slightly muffled. “Missed you. Fuck, you’re so good. You smell so good.”

You’re afraid to look down, but you don’t have to. You can hear his smile.

Instead, you look behind you, seeing that his thick, veiny length is flushed and leaking already. Your gulp echoes in your ears. 

A soft press of his lips to your throbbing clit pulls you back to your senses. With another kiss, he positions the bud over his nose and your entrance over his mouth, so he’s sure to catch all your desire.

When he squeezes your hip, you know he’s asking for more. Gently, timidly, you rock against his face to appease him. Valko, though, ever observant when you’re involved, knows you’re withholding your full weight. 

And he won’t have it. 

Simultaneously, he delivers a sharp slap to your backside and nips your clit in warning. When you squeal out into the cool air, he soothes the sting with a searing lash of his tongue. 

“I’m trying!” you cry. “Whenever we do this, I’m always the one on my back! I feel weird.”

Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up just enough to speak. “Tough.”

Then, he plops you right back down, the smack of skin on skin spreading a wildfire across your cheeks.

Eager to explore, he glides his tongue around your core, poking and prodding wherever he likes. When you arch away from the pleasure, too sensitive to stay still, he decides he’s had enough. 

His tight grip on your hips is his first act of defiance. But when he starts bouncing you on his face, alternating between his mouth and nose, you’re more than ready to throw in the towel. 

“Valko!” you whine. Up and down, down and up. Up and down again and again. How long has he wanted this?

A response would require a pause in his actions, so of course, he doesn’t provide one. Instead, he flattens his tongue against your clit and makes you grind your hips down onto him, like he’s nothing but an extension of you. “Valko!” you repeat, stars quickly clouding your vision.

All he offers is an unburdened grunt, clearly not planning on stopping anytime soon. And why would he, when there’s so much to lap up?

A mix of his saliva and your arousal pools between you, with sound effects previously unheard of filling the room. You’re so wet, at one point, you almost slide down his face to his forehead—but he hauls you back up with a laugh, the vibrations only exacerbating the issue. When you pull at his hair, shy and embarrassed, he merely sucks your clit into his mouth and releases it with a pop. 

Captive to his relentless touch, it isn’t long before your muscles contract and release, sending more and more wetness gushing toward his waiting mouth. 

Your mind is a haze as he licks you clean, making sure not to waste a single drop. You do register, though, how he inhales once again when he’s finished. “Smells like me again. That’s better.”

Thinking his wrath has exhausted itself, you feel your body deflate like a popped balloon. You’re more than ready to melt into the sheets and sleep off the worst of the aftermath. 

“We should seal the deal, though. Just to be sure.”

Valko has other plans.

Before you can blink, he flips you over with force, driving your hands and knees into the carpet. When you yelp, he squeezes your backside in apology, only to slip his fingers down to your open slit. Once he confirms that you’re ready for him, he braces his hands on your hips and slides into you with ease. 

Your startled gasp is his grand opportunity. As you cry out his name, he shoves his fingers into your open mouth, making you sputter and swallow around them. With his other hand, he clamps your jaw shut so you’re forced to bite him, your blunt teeth barely a threat against his skin. 

All the while, he’s moaning and laughing, hips stuttering from his rapid thrusts. Each time his base slaps your backside, you feel him grow larger and larger, until you’re being speared on something you’re not sure you can take. But as your muscles contract around him once more, squeezing him with all that they have, you don’t think that matters anymore.

In tune with your own release, hot spurts shoot deep into your channel, followed by a searing, swollen pressure you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. It’s at this point that the last of your strength crumbles. But when you start to slump into the floor, you find you can’t move too far—not without bringing Valko with you. 

As you both catch your breath, locked together until the comedown, he slides his hand out of your mouth and slaps your cheek lightly, signaling for you to open your screwed-shut eyes. When you do, he sticks his drool-coated fingers into his own mouth, canines poking into his flesh as he swipes his tongue greedily. 

All you can do is whine.

You don’t know when your bodies will loosen up enough for you to separate. All you know is that he’s got you here, right where he wants you, for a long, long, agonizingly long time. 

──────

“Are you satisfied?” you deadpan as the beast finally tucks you into bed. 

“For now.” You can hear his smirk as he flicks off the lights. Doesn’t make much of a difference, though.

It’s dawn. 

“But you can check back with me in an hour. Maybe my answer will be different.”

“In an hour, I will be dead to the world and recovering from you,” you grumble. Suddenly, you purse your lips. “I’m gonna miss that cone, you know.”

Even in the dim morning light, you can see his brows furrow. “What?” 

“You looked cute in it. Like a little puppy.” Reaching out, you grab his face and squish his cheeks between your fingers. “So cute.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but his tail thumps the mattress. “Whatever. It did have its benefits, though. Tonight was so good, I wouldn’t mind a repeat.”

“You really think you can do that again? Seven whole days, no contact?”

“‘Course I do. It wasn’t that hard for me.”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Not even you believe that.” 

“Yeah. This was fun, though,” he says through a yawn. “We should do it again sometime. Goodnight.”

As he rolls over and tucks his tail around you, blanketing you in half his body weight, a nagging thought won’t leave your head.

Should you switch vets? 

The proposal comes almost out of the blue. Of course you knew each other before, were kind and friendly, but you had never spent more than ten minutes with each other at a time. And yet, he was infatuated with you, and when he heard you complaining about taxes through your shared wall, he came up with the idea of an arranged marriage so you could both get benefits. He didn't expect you to agree so quickly, a part of him didn't expect an agreement at all, but he was ecstatic when you said 'yes'. He was swift with the arrangements, and within two weeks you were together signing the papers for your marriage agreement.

The benefits started rolling in. He was able to add you to his company's insurance, decreasing your spending, and your tax refunds increased after you combined your taxes the next cycle. Once your finances were set, the two of you moved into a nicer two bedroom apartment together, saving money on rent.

He loves spending time with you, but as you said, he never crosses the line, although he wants to at times. He finds it especially difficult to control himself when he sees you in your casual clothes, sees the outline of your free breasts under your crop top, sometimes your nipples are hard and poking through the fabric, and those tiny little sports shorts that give him a perfect view of your ass when you bend over. It's torture, really, seeing you so comfortable and relaxed around him. What he wouldn't give to feel the weight of your plush body against his, the soft expanse of your skin. Late at night, in his room—because he insisted on giving you a room of your own—he fantasizes about you in all the ways he can't have, every position possible, imagining the sounds and the feeling of your lips against his, the wet heat of your cunt sucking him in, aching for his cum—

This is dangerous territory. He needs to be careful lest he do something that will push you away forever. He'd hate himself for eternity if he made you uncomfortable in any way, so he keeps his distance, doing his share of the chores and cooking for you often.

You don't make it easy on him. You've started wearing these skimpy little pajamas around the house before work and after you get home. It looks more like lingerie than a sleep set, but he doesn't comment on it. This is your home too and you are free to wear whatever you please, but you've been getting touchier lately too. You insist on cuddling while you watch TV and now expect a hug every time he leaves the apartment. Is he going crazy? He swears you're seducing him somehow, brushing your ass against his crotch when you squeeze between him and the counter, hands lingering and crawling over his chest and arms whenever you're close. No, he must be losing his mind. You're too sweet to do something like teasing and tempting him. He's just overthinking your innocent actions. Yeah, that's it, this must be normal for you and your other close friends! He'll just let you do as you wish and not pester you, no matter how difficult it is for him to control himself.

Meanwhile, every night without Nanami in your bed leaves you to scream into your pillow, beyond frustrated. The perfect, most handsome man asked you to marry him, but he won't even touch you! God, this is infuriating! You were hoping for the romance to begin when you got married, but he just kept acting serious and aloof no matter what you did. All of your slutty clothing and extra touches have been in vain since he won't even hold your hand yet. You need to up the ante, yes, that's it, you just need to be more forward! Maybe if you straddle his lap one day and beg for his cock then he'll give it to you? He always does what you say... No, that won't work. He'll just brush you off and lock himself in his room the rest of the night like he always does when you get touchy with him. Oh, what to do, what to do...

A lightbulb appears above your head and you smirk.

The next Friday night, you suggest watching a movie together in the living room. You can have popcorn and candy and just relax and watch something you both enjoy! Should be fun, right?

Of course he agrees. He wants nothing more than to please you. He lets you choose the movie while he makes popcorn. When he joins you, you snuggle up to his side and press play.

It's a romantic movie, one he's never seen but has read reviews for. Apparently, there is quite a bit of sex in this movie. He braces himself for what's to come.

Once the couple has their first makeout session, you sigh longingly and rest your head against his shoulder.

"Are you bored of the movie?" he asks.

"No," you pout. "I just... nevermind."

"What is it?"

"I... oh, it's so embarrassing... I just miss kissing so much, you know?"

He gulps, glancing at you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I miss it so badly." You huff in frustration. "Ugh, kissing used to turn me on so much. I could get wet just from one kiss. It's been so long since I've really kissed somebody; I bet I would get soaked if I made out with someone now."

He pulls at his collar. The summer heat must be getting to him.

"Ah, well, um... I-I guess you could find someone to kiss you, if that's what you really want. I won't stop you."

"Oh, Kenny, I could never! This may be an arranged marriage, but I would never leave you to find someone else. You're my husband and I want to be faithful to you."

Husband. Oh, that word gets him going so easily. He's always wanted to be a husband, to have a beautiful wife to love for the rest of his life. And now he has it, but... no, he can't act on these feelings. He could never force himself on you. He'd rather die than—

He pauses when your hand finds his thigh, squeezing gently. He swallows hard, looking at you, blushing at the lustful gaze you're giving him.

"Kento," you whisper almost sultry, "do you miss kissing too?"

"Uh... w-well, I... I guess so—"

"Don't you miss feeling lips against yours?" you coo, leaning closer. "Feeling their tongue glide over your lip, pushing into your mouth? Have you ever had someone bite your lip or suck on your tongue?"

You're crowding his space, making him shift away from you on the couch, but you just inch closer, following him until his back reaches the arm rest, stopping him in his tracks. He sputters when you crawl into his lap, knees on either side of his hips, ass planted on his groin. Your hands find his chest and you lean down to him.

"If we both miss kissing, then why don't we kiss each other? We're already married, so who cares if we fool around a little?"

Nanami thinks he might be dreaming. The woman of his dreams is straddling his hips as he lives and breathes, asking him to kiss her. Why can't he just say 'yes'? Why can't he pounce on you like a tiger and get a taste of what he's wanted this whole time?

You pout, sitting up.

"You don't find me attractive, do you?"

He blinks.

"W-What?"

"That has to be it. Why else would you stay away from me this whole time, even though I've done everything to try and get you to look at me like as a wife instead of a friend?"

You begin to stand.

"Wait—"

"I'll stop flirting with you. I won't bother you anymore."

"Wait!"

It happens in a flash. He pulls you down to the couch, bracing himself so he doesn't fall on top of you. You stare up at him with wide eyes, and he can't hold himself back anymore. He dives in and kisses you fiercely, the way he's wanted to for months. You squeak in surprise, but it melts into a moan, arms wrapping around his neck and keeping him close.

The pieces come together so beautifully after that. You're such a good kisser but you let him take the lead, letting him press his tongue into your mouth and circle it around yours. Within minutes you're practically purring beneath him, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him down to you. He can't help himself when he starts humping against your cunt, greedily drinking in all the precious noises you're making as he thrusts against you.

He only stops when he feels something wet on his cock. He furrows his brow, pulling away from your lips to look down in between you. There's a stark wet patch on his sweatpants, an even bigger one on your shorts.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I told you kissing makes me wet."

He's breathing heavy as his finger trails the waistband of your shorts.

"Can... May I...?"

"God, please, yes."

He's quick to peel off your shorts, marveling at the mess your cunt has made just from some kisses and dry humping. You let your legs fall open, allowing him to peel your chubby pussy lips apart with his thumbs, your cunt glistening back at his awed expression. He wants to taste you, he needs to taste you.

"May I taste you?" he breathes, beyond excited. You whine and nod your head, humming in approval. That's all it takes for him to lean down and glide the flat of his tongue from your entrance to your clit.

God, he's good at this, too good at this. You envy every woman that's had his mouth on them before you, but you're also grateful that he's gotten enough practice to know what he's doing. His tongue feels so good when it flicks your clit, and when he sucks you into his mouth you see stars. It takes everything in your power not to pull his hair and hump his mouth, but you hold yourself back. After all, you don't want to scare him off now that you've got him right where you want him.

Your climax hits you fast and hard, legs trembling over his shoulders. When he comes up for air, your lips catch his, licking your slick off his mouth. He moans into you, his voice only growing louder when you palm his aching cock and pull down his sweatpants. You pull away, looking down, eyes going wide. He swallows, catching his breath, praying you're not disappointed. You look up at him with a gleam in your eye.

"Put your cock in me right now."

He almost coughs, clearing his throat.

"I-I don't have any condoms."

"Ken. We're married. Who cares if you knock me up? Just get your cock inside my cunt right now before I go crazy."

He can't argue with that, his cock throbbing at your words. You lie back on the couch as he towers over you, hand guiding his member towards your cunt. He hisses as he rubs the head against your pussy, catching it on the entrance and slowly inching it inside. He pauses when you gasp, but you pull him closer by his shirt.

"Give it to me," you moan, your tone demanding. He obliges, pushing in the rest at a steady pace, letting you adjust to his length and girth. You're so slick and hot that it's hard not to force himself inside you with one quick motion. When his hips reach yours, he can feel the end of your cunt pushing back against him, struggling to accomodate him. He's about to ask if it hurts when you ball his shirt in your fist, yanking him down so you're face to face.

"Fuck me."

How could he say no to his precious wife?

He starts slow, but when you insist on more, he gives it to you, increasing the speed and strength behind his thrusts. He finally finds a rhythm that has your eyes rolled back and your mouth wide open, desperate noises leaving you with each slap of your hips. The smacking sound filling the room is wet and lewd, but he wouldn't have it any other way. Every thrust makes you squeal and moan and beg for god knows what.

Your cunt starts squeezing him rhythmically, almost pulsating around him. He prays that you're close when his hand settles between you and his thumb finds your clit, pressing rough circles into you. You cry out in delight, clawing at his chest through his shirt, making nonsensical noises as your cunt pulses faster. He keeps going, never faltering as you thrash and quiver beneath him, and suddenly you pause, wailing high and sweet as you clamp down on him. He struggles to keep moving, takes deep breathes to keep himself from falling apart. You relax beneath him, panting, almost going limp. He leans down to press kisses over your face, tender and loving, the way he dreamed for so long. Your hand finds his hair, carding your fingers through blonde strands as he kisses down your neck.

"Ken?" He hums in response, kissing your shoulder. "I want you to cum in me."

He stops, pulling back to look at you. You're drunk from your climax, but you seem serious which only makes his body burn hotter.

"Y-You do?"

"Mm-hm," you hum, wrapping your legs around his hips once again. "I want you to breed me."

It's like something primal is unleashed within him. He pulls at the neck of his shirt until it's over his head, tossing it to the floor. He starts fucking you again, faster than before as his hand palms its way from your stomach to under your crop top. You mewl, pulling your shirt under your chin, exposing your bouncing tits to him. He groans low, leaning down to suck your nipple into his mouth while he palms your other breast. All the while, he keeps thrusting into you roughly, stretching you open over and over again.

"Please, please Ken, I—oh god—I wanna cum again!"

He hums against your breast, slobbering over your nipple as he pinches the other, his free hand moving between you to find your clit again. You cry out when he presses it firmly, using your slick to lubricate you and make his movements glide easier. He finds a rhythm and pace that has you pulsating again, hips rocking to meet his thrusts. He releases your breast with a 'pop', leaning back to stare down at you hungrily. You're such a mess right now, but you've never looked lovelier.

"You're beautiful," he sighs, squeezing your love handle tightly.

"I want your cum," you moan back, squealing when he hits your favorite spot.

"Yeah? You really want me to cum in you?"

"Fuck, yes! Yes yes yes! You're my husband so this cock and your cum is all mine and I want it. I want it, I want it, I want it. Give it to me, Ken. Fill me up. I want it all inside of me, I don't want to waste a drop—jesus fucking christ, I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum!"

He almost chokes, keeping his pace as another orgasm rocks through you, leaving you convulsing beneath him. He can't hold back any longer. He's so close he can taste it.

"I'm gonna give it to you. I'm gonna give my wife what she wants. I'm gonna cum in you, I'm gonna cum, I—"

His voice dies out as his hips stutter. His cum shoots out almost forcefully, leaving him shaking and struggling not to fall on top of you. He rides out his high, filling you to the brim with all the cum he's saved for this moment that he prayed for.

You're both breathless. He comes down from cloud nine while you savor the warmth filling up your womb. Your legs go limp at his sides, sliding down to the couch. When your eyes flutter open, he's staring down at you with the most lovesick expression you've ever seen.

He leans down and captures your lips in a kiss which you eagerly return. As you peck each other lovingly, he begins to pull out his cock, making you whine unhappily, trying to suck him back in. He shushes you gently as he pulls away, reaching for his shirt before using it to wipe you clean. He balls it up and drops it back to the floor. He maneuvers you to lay on top of him on the couch, grabbing the blanket off the back of the sofa and unraveling it, pulling it over the both of you. He sighs when he lays back down, wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling into the crown of your head.

"Hey, Ken?" He hums in response. "Does this mean you'll sleep in the master bedroom with me from now on?"

He's too tired to laugh fully like he wants to, but he still chuckles lightly, kissing your forehead when you gaze up at him.

"I'll start moving in my things tomorrow."

You'd taken up residence at the Troubleshooting Agency, perfectly content to kip in the little nook in Tao's bedroom with the spare futon, previously home to several stacks of boxes filled with "random shit" (her words, not yours) that she'd barely glanced at before having Alma toss them out with the day's garbage.

They'd offered you a place in Saragi first, but you'd point blank refused to let anyone touch you, fussing and hissing and swiping at everyone except Tao, who had stayed at your bedside, quietly reading her books and smoking her cigarettes, chiding at you when you refused to eat or drink, tutting when your ears would flatten at the mere mention of a bath.

"Poor girl," you'd overheard them saying one day, the tall wolf-man sighing on the other side of the door, "what on earth did they do to her in there?"

Tao scoffed. "C'mon Yoki, 's not like you were born yesterday. She's a beastman with mostly human aspects — what do you think they were doin' to her?"

"No wonder she hates being touched," the other woman — Dara, you think her name is — says, even as the door creaks open a crack, "at least she's eating now. And sleeping."

"We need'a figure out what to do with her," Tao says, her voice smoke-stung and rough around the edges. You burrow deeper into your blankets, squeezing your eyes shut. They're going to throw you out again, just like the others. Nothing ever changes — everyone always, always leaves.

"We could teach her how to fix up stuff here!" Yoki offers, an excited whine to his voice, "I've always wanted an apprentice!"

Dara snorts, "She's terrified of you."

"Well, we can't throw her back out onto the streets," Tao says, and you feel a bud of hope beading in your chest as you unfurl slightly, ears perked towards the door, "not after everything she's been through…"

At this, Dara makes a strange, contemplative noise, a teasing note twining around her voice as she asks, "Hey Tao, didn't you say once that you wouldn't mind havin' a cat?"

It'd taken time for you to acclimate to living with Tao and Alma, but over the weeks and months, even your aversion to male-touch had been dampened enough for you to tolerate Alma's casually friendly nudges and pokes. They'd gotten you settled with a part-time position at Hourai, and Yaya had risen to the occasion wonderfully, glad to finally have a girl her age at the restaurant with her. In your off hours, you'd taken to keeping the Agency in check, filing old case reports and doing the more pedantic pieces of research that kept the Agency afloat while Tao and Alma were on "official Saragi business".

And while things are never quite calm where the Agency is involved, at least the three of you have fallen into a comfortable, if not entirely predictable rhythm.

Which is why when Tao comes home from a small detour (Tatsuomi had insisted on showing her a crime scene in person), she's rather stumped to find Alma posted up on the couch, sitting ramrod straight, with your entire body curled into his side.

"Ms. Tao! You're finally back! I don't know what to do — she — she's been like this all afternoon —" he motions towards where you're nuzzling into his shoulder, purring loudly, even as Alma tries to inch away, looking halfway between frantic and flustered.

Tao's eyebrows shoot up as she takes in the scene. You open your eyes, tail wrapped around your own leg, ears twitching. You shake your head, frowning slightly.

"'m fine… just warm… Alma's nice and cool…" you press your cheek to his arm, sighing as your eyes flutter closed again. Alma huffs, looking agitated as he tries to pry you off as gently as he can.

"And — it's almost like she's running a fever! I checked her temperature, and asked Yoki, b-but he just told me to wait till you got home to take care of it —"

Tao blinks, a tight knot forming in the base of her stomach as she lets the door click shut behind her. She reaches for a fresh smoke, lighting it up with a quick puff as she makes for the sofa where she bends down to lay a hand across your forehead. Your skin is warm beneath her palm, and at her touch, your eyes flicker open, your pupils so dilated they've nearly swallowed up the entirety of your irises, leaving your eyes huge and dark and glazed.

"What else has she been doing? She eaten anything today?"

Alma shakes his head, finally wiggling free as you loosen your grip on him, turning to Tao and immediately pressing your face into her thigh.

"No! She didn't have any of the breakfast or lunch Yaya brought up — Auntie's giving her the day off, cause she's sick —"

Tao sighs, reaching into her back pocket for her wallet and tossing it at Alma, who nearly fumbles it before catching it against his chest.

"Go to the drugstore at the corner of 8th Ave and Main, and ask them for heat suppressants — and then go find Tatsuomi. Just do whatever the hell he tells you to do for the rest of the day. Don't come back till I call, kay?"

Alma gapes as Tao scoops you up into her arms and makes for her bedroom door.

"B-but what about the meds after I get them? Won't she need —"

"Go."

Alma darts out the front door, letting it slam shut behind him. Tao heaves out a world weary sigh, turning to kick open her own door before gently laying you down on her bed. You whine, curling your fingers into her shirt.

"Don't go… smells nice…"

Tao reaches up to tug the cigarette from her lips, cracking the window above her bed to blow out the smoke. Outside, the air is thick with moisture, and her lone ceiling fan does barely more than shift the skin-slick heat from one end of her room to the other.

"Fuckin… damnit," she mutters, shrugging off her coat and tossing it off to the side as she drops down to sit next to you on the bed. Immediately, you push into her personal space, pressing your nose into her neck, nuzzling against her pulse, your breath coming in short, shallow spurts. Your voice, when you speak, is tight and trembling with barely contained want. But still, she can tell that you're trying.

"Just… lemme rest here a little… promise I — I won't do anything else."

She reaches up her ungloved hand to sooth a palm down your back, tracking the way you shiver at her touch, your tail uncoiling to sway behind you, your chest rumbling with a bone-tingling purr. She presses a thumb to her temple, swallowing back another sigh before pushing her glasses up to sit in her hair as she turns to angle her body towards yours proper.

"Alright, c'mon — lets get this off."

She tugs at your top, and you cock your head, frowning slightly, your eyes struggling to focus. You rest your hand on hers, trailing delicate fingers along her wrists and forearms, seemingly taken with the contact. She tuts, jerking on the hem of your shirt again.

"Arms up."

"You don't have to —" your words are cut off by the fabric of your shirt muffling over your mouth as Tao works it off you, leaving you in a simple beige bra and shorts. Your lashes flutter, cheeks darkening as she reaches up to pop open the frog closures on her own top.

"I'm assuming they gave you medicine at the brothel," she says, flicking open the remaining buttons with her gloved hand, tugging the hem out from her pants with the other. You lick your lips, shrugging up a shoulder.

"O-only contraceptives… but never uhm — the ones that make this go away." You motion shakily at your own body, your gaze downcast.

Tao pauses amidst peeling her top off, her eyes slicing back to you as you fiddle with the fraying hem of your shorts.

"Bastards."

You look up, startled as Tao proceeds to slip off her belt, tossing everything into a haphazard pile at the foot of her bed. It's not the first time you've seen Tao undress; it's not even the first time she's helped you undress, but there's something about the way she's always seemed so comfortable in her own skin, so un-self-conscious about her body that makes your legs press as she kicks off her pants and sets her glasses on the bedside table.

"You know how safewords work?" she asks, glancing down at you as she makes her way across the room to rummage around in her closet in nothing more than black underwear and a matching tank.

"Uh — kind… of?" you offer, shifting to squeeze your thighs as Tao manages to yank a black leather something from the shoved-in piles of clothing.

Tao sighs, turning to pull open her chest of drawers, frowning as she digs around inside.

"Green for go, yellow for slow down or wait, and red for stop. Easy. Damnit — no lube — well, we should be okay without it."

She pulls out a heart-stoppingly large silicon dildo with a curt, approving nod, before nudging the drawer shut with her elbow and making her way back to the bed. A dull, throbbing ache pulses through your clit as she tosses all the paraphernalia onto the mattress next to you, giving you a hard once-over.

You bite back a whimper, feeling your entire body scald hot beneath the weight of her gaze.

"Hey. I'm not gonna hurt you. Or — least I'll try not to."

You look up as she slips back onto the bed, reaching out to flick at one of your tufted ears — a soft, affectionate gesture. You let out a nervous little laugh, nodding.

"I — I know, it's just — I can — you don't have to — there are ways to handle —"

"Look," Tao gruffs, leaning back and letting out a long breath (you force your eyes away from her tits, so lush and full they make your mouth water —), she picks up her half-finished cigarette and takes a long drag, "if you tell me this ain't what you want, I'll go. But I've been around beastmen long enough to know that havin' someone around to help you through it is the next best thing to gettin' the heat suppressing drugs. So, d'you want me to help you or not?"

Your breath hitches at the thought — Tao helping you. Through your heat.

Fire tingles along your nerve endings, eating through your veins as you bite down hard on your lip. You feel your heat-sharpened canine pierce your skin, a tiny bead of blood welling up at the incision.

"Quit that." Tao reaches up to press a thumb to your chin, forcing you to let go of your bottom lip. "So?" she asks, tilting your head up to meet her gaze once more.

You nod, flushing all the way to the roots of your hair, your ears flicking out.

Tao cocks a single eyebrow.

"I need'a hear you say it."

You swallow, watching as her attention flits down to your lips before ticking back up. There's something dark and a bit dangerous to the usual skylight shine of her eyes, something liquid and thick and filled with an unnamable kind of wanting.

"I — yes… please." You don't mean to sound so desperate. But you do.

Tao smiles, a smile that quirks the corner of her lips up just so — an amused, satisfied, switchblade thing.

"Good girl."

You can't help the purr that rumbles through you at her praise, her thumb reaching up to swipe at the tiny damson stain before she's gently pushing you back on the bed.

"Lets get these off, hm?" she says, slipping a finger beneath the waistband of your shorts, before tugging them and your panties off with a single swift motion. Your back arches at the sudden kiss of cool air against your pulsing clit, and your thighs press instinctively as Tao tosses the offending garments onto the rapidly growing pile at the foot of the bed.

She lets out a low whistle, forcing your legs open with one hand while the other skates up your stomach to trace along the base of your bra.

"Hn. Knew we wouldn't need lube… not when you're so damn wet already."

You let out a pitiful sort of keen, the fiery sting of shame twisting through you, making your toes curl. Tao chuckles, letting her gloved hand wander up the milky expanse of your thighs to ghost along your hips. Your knees start to sneak towards each other again but Tao presses them back down with a look.

"Keep 'em open for me." Her voice is gravely and warm, and it's all you can do to keep from arching up as she slicks a single finger through your folds. Your tail whips against your thigh and Tao makes an amused sound.

"T'be honest, I never got why people were so damn into those beastman brothels but…" she eases her ungloved hand beneath the fabric of your bra, pushing it up to free your tits, her thumb brushing over the tight buds of your nipples, making you gasp, "I kinda get it now. You're real sensitive, aren't ya?"

"T-Tao…"

She hums as you pant out her name, your skin tingling in the places she's touched, your core already dripping, clenching around nothing as Tao continues to slowly work her finger along the seam of your cunt. She flicks at the head of your clit and your whole body jumps, ears flattening to your head as you moan, your heartbeat an insistent thump between your legs even as Tao lets out another tiny, near-derisive laugh.

"Cute."

You glance up at her through hazy eyes, your cheeks flushed in the tepid afternoon light — and even through the thick fog of want and the glaring pulse of need, you acknowledge that she's beautiful. Looking down at you with soft, Robin's egg eyes, her hair falling in a fishtail braid over her shoulder.

Your vision fizzles as Tao works a finger into you, the friction and relief of being filled sending tremors of pleasure arcing through you as you feel yourself squeeze down around the intrusion. Tao lets out a soft exhale, her other hand still working slow, lazy circles around your tender nipples.

"Geez…" she crooks her finger inside you, almost experimental, and you jerk so hard your upper body nearly lifts completely off the mattress. Tao's eyes darken as she reaches for the last nub of her cigarette. She takes a slow drag, pumping her finger in and out of you with a sort of languid disinterest, but as she exhales, she bears down, teasing a second finger around your entrance with a smirk, smoke trailing out the corner of her lilted mouth.

"Needy lil kitten, hm?"

You let out an incoherent noise, clamping down on your bottom lip, hips squirming up to chase her touch. She tamps out her cigarette, letting the harsh sting of tobacco fill her lungs as she continues to work you open with just a single finger. There's something dangerously like hunger coalescing deep in her belly, and she's been stung too many times by the world not to know better. She licks her lips, eyes catching on the feline twist of your body beneath her hand.

It occurs to her that you'd probably let her do whatever she wanted to you, bend you into whatever shape she pleased. The thought carves open a yawning cavern of want inside her, daring as it is deep. She ticks her tongue against her teeth, idly pressing a second finger into your desperate hole, resisting the urge to groan at the way you're slick enough to drip down the bend of your ass right onto her bedsheets.

"Tao — please —" you reach down, fingers scrabbling at her wrist, hips working up hard enough for her to reach out and pin you back down again.

"If we go too fast, you're gonna hurt yourself."

You hiccup, blinking up at her with your big, watery eyes, and she briefly thinks to herself that yeah, she really does get it now, before sighing and shifting slightly to press a third finger in. She's all too aware of the heat working it's slow way up her spine, creeping into her cheeks as you immediately clench down again, your insides so wet and soft that even the dulled out sensors in her prosthetic hand can register it through the leather.

"Mm… won't hurt," you mumble, your stomach tensing and flexing as she rocks her wrist, the wet squelching noises seemingly magnified by the turgid summer air, "I c-can — can take it —"

Tao chuckles. "'M sure you can, kitten… I'm sure you can…"

She tries not to think of how you might've been taken advantage of like this, by the countless hoards of gross, sweaty men, with beady eyes and pudgy fingers. How they might've used this, one of your base biological functions, to slake their own depraved thirst. The thought makes her stomach clench, and she hooks her fingers inside you, searching for the tight, gummy spot she knows will make you scream.

And you do.

Your orgasm sparks through your body like lightning, your cunt clamping down around her fingers as you shudder and shake, mewling as you come down from your high, Tao working her fingers into your tight, constricting heat, rubbing soft circles into your waist with her other hand.

A wry smile twists her lips as she gently tugs her fingers from you, your body still trembling with the aftershocks.

"Hm, that a bit better?"

You blink up at her, your eyes slightly less glazed as you wet your lips with a long swipe of your tongue before giving her a tiny nod. Tao lifts her hand, watching the slick web between her fingers, looking mildly impressed. You swallow, pushing up onto your elbows, cheeks dark, and like this, Tao can't help but appreciate the picture you paint — your bra shoved up, your shorts and panties dangling off one ankle, your thighs a mess of sticky wetness, your lips the most tantalizing shade of bitten-blood red.

"I — I can clean that up for you…"

Tao's eyebrows twitch up, but you're already leaning forward, your mouth falling open to wrap around her fingers, your tongue flicking out to catch the juices trailing down her knuckles.

Sweet baby christ on a motorbike. Yeah, she really, really, gets it now.

Its all she can do to stare, mesmerized as you work your lips around her sullied fingers, shifting up onto your knees. It isn't till you let out a tiny whimper that she sees your hand twitching between your thighs. Her head buzzes with the heat — her vision tunnels as the familiar sunburst of desire blooms in her chest.

"Don't," she says, reaching out to tap your hand. Her voice comes out low and hoarse, startling your eyes up to her face.

"Hm?" your lips are still wrapped around her fingers; she bites back a moan.

Instead, she twists her gloved hand in your mouth, pushing in further, pressing down on your tongue. You make a tiny noise somewhere between a gag and a swallow that has her free hand twitching for a fresh cig.

"Not till I say, kay?"

Your eyes widen ever so slightly, your breath clipping in your chest. You give a quick nod as Tao pulls her fingers from your mouth and motions for you to flip over.

"Turn around."

You shuffle onto your hands and knees, tail swishing this way and that. Tao allows herself a small smile as she reaches out to trace a finger along it's length, the fur raven dark and silky. You shiver, a whining purr rolling from your chest into your throat as you peer back at her over your shoulder.

"Been a while since I've used this," she says, reaching for the harness and slotting the dildo into the base. You eye the rig with a muted hesitancy as Tao straps it on over her underwear, adjusting the belts to sit more comfortably around her hips.

"Don't worry," she says, tugging you closer with one hand on your hip, the other grabbing for the base of the dildo. Her grin skews into a smirk as she runs the tip of the silicon cock along your puffy folds, watching the way it pulls away glistening.

"We'll make it fit."

You let out a pleading whimper as she eases the head in slow, your breath stitching as you push your body back, your chest arched forward, cheek pressed to the mess of pillows and sheets. For a second, she thinks the stretch might be too much, the resistance she's meeting making her pause. Then, you're reaching back for her, moaning sweet and soft as you wiggle your hips, your ears flicking out.

"M-more — Tao — wanna be full —"

She lets out a guttural groan, rutting forward, thrusting in till your ass is pulled plush against her front. You make a strangled, keening noise, your upper body tensing before it goes slack, your lashes fluttering as your eyes roll back.

Well shit.

Tao feels the adrenaline rush flushing from the top of her head straight down into the tips of her toes, the hard knot of want twisting in her gut as she rocks forward, deliberately dragging the curved tip along your walls, relishing in the tightness she feels as she tries to pull back. Your tail sweeps through the air and catches her softly along her jaw. She puffs out an exasperated little laugh.

God, this cannot be good for me, she thinks as she tugs back slightly to thrust forward again, hypnotized by the pliancy of your body beneath her, the lithe expanse of your back, marred by a scattering of pale scars. The remnants of your captivity at the hands of the brothel, no doubt.

Anger surges through her, well-deep and molten. She grits her teeth and fucks into you again, smoothing her ungloved hand along your spine. Once again, you make that heart-rending mewling noise and she reaches up to fist her fingers in the roots of your hair, tugging you up.

"Color?" she asks, and for the first time, she realizes that her own voice is thready, her breaths shallow by your ear.

You whine, rocking back into the strap, almost mindless as you shake your head in her grip.

"G-good — green — g-green!"

"Alright, good," she says, letting go of your hair to settle both her hands around your hips, "good," she murmurs again, more to herself than you. Good, at least you can still think. A part of her is relieved. A much larger part of her ticks at the thought of what it might look like if you couldn't.

She sets a rhythm in earnest then, a rough, bruising pace — the harsh smack of skin on skin punctuated by your little yelping moans of ah-ah-ah — ah! Tao's never been more thankful for the thick floors, and loud customers Hourai seems to attract.

"Ah — fuck —" she grunts, her brows creasing in concentration as she nudges you further up the bed, shifting her legs for better leverage. Your voice cracks as she rams the strap into you hard enough for the bedframe to smack against the wall.

You press your face into the pillow, fingers sinking into the cushion as pleasure rockets through you in debilitating waves. You've always hated your heats before now, dreaded the dragging summer months and endless carousel of men in suits and glossy silk ties, their breath always sake-steeped and bitter, their hands dry and careless as they took and took and took. You'd hated the way your body reacted, despite the roiling revulsion in your stomach, how much you wished you didn't crave the bone-shuddering relief of being filled.

But now, even with the harsh sting of Tao's strap stretching you nearly to bursting, you find yourself wanting more. The hummingbird wingbeat of desire thrumming through your chest, your every nerve-end sparking to life as Tao fucks into you deep enough for your throat to seize, hard enough for a flurry of stars to pop up behind your eyelids.

"P-please, pleasepleaseplease — more —" you're not entirely sure what you're begging for, your mind unspooling into a smear of white-hot bliss. But you do know that you want her to keep going, to keep on filling you and filling you till there's nothing left to fill, till all the hollowed out places inside you have been well and truly fucked away.

"Hm…" Tao's drawl is low and faintly amused, she slows her pace to an agonizing roll, chuckling as you start to whine, trying to push up onto your elbows and work back against her, "so — damn — needy —" she accents each word with a hard thrust, and you tip forward into the pillow again, your arms giving out almost at once.

She gives your hip a small pat as she pauses, reaching over you for something. You shift, wondering for a terrifying moment if it's already over.

"No no no no — please don't stop — Ms. Tao please —"

"Tch." She gives your hip another smack, harder this time, and you still as you hear the sound of her lighter clicking open.

"Just gimme a sec," she says, her words bitten around what you know is the end of a cigarette between her lips.

You twist your head just far enough to glance at her blurry form, one hand still resting on your hip, the other holding a fresh cigarette between two fingers. She cocks her head, eyes meeting yours as she looks you over with a strangely contemplative expression.

Then, her lip quirks as she lets out a thin wisp of smoke.

"Ms. Tao, huh?"

You let out a strained whine, shoving your face back into the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut. Behind you, Tao takes another long drag from her cigarette, exhaling.

"Well. I don't hate it."

She gives her hips another slow roll. Your breath hitches. You feel her hand circling the base of your tail before she gives it a tug. All your muscles tighten for a split second before you go oddly boneless, mewing softly as she makes a small noise of interest.

"Man, they must've really loved you," she muses, and you feel her shuffling behind you for a brief second before she tugs you back, working up a steady, if only slightly unfulfilling pace. Always the hint of a tease lingering in the pressure of her fingers on your ass, the absent way she's now toying with your tail.

"M-mn?" is all you can manage as your mind starts to fuzz out again at the edges.

"Cute and pliant and just begging to be fucked stupid."

Another hot prickle of shame trickles down your spine, followed by a much larger wave of pleasure, the warmth tingling into your fingertips. And there's no helping the flutter in your cunt at her words, no stopping the way your heartbeat stutters at the thought.

She gives your tail another quick tug, drawing out a warbled moan as she rucks forward sharply, the tip of her strap grazing some place inside you that makes your mouth fall open.

"There it is…"

It should be alarming, how much control she has over an inanimate piece of silicon strapped to her hips, but as she starts to pummel the strap against your g-spot, your mind numbs out everything save the pleasure and the rapidly coiling heat in your stomach, the twisting twine tightening with every single thrust —

"M-Ms. Tao g'nna — oh — oh — oh — ah —!"

Your body seizes as your second orgasm of the day washes over you, leaving you gasping and tender in it's wake. Tao works the strap into you a few more times, chuckling under her breath as you twitch away from the overstimulation.

When she pulls the strap out, you tip over onto your side, curling into yourself, watching through half-moon eyes as Tao unbuckles the clasps to the harness.

"Feel better?" she asks, slating you a glance as she drops to sit back down on the bed, propping her elbows on her knees and reaching for her cigarette box.

"Mhm," you inch forward, pressing into her side. She shifts, lifting one arm to make room for you as the pair of you inch up the length of the bed till she's resting with her back against the wall.

"Need anything else?" She drapes her arm over your curled up form.

You hear her lighting up another cig.

You push up, turning to face her. In the rapidly fading light, her face is carved in sharp relief — her tall, slender nose, her thin, sleek eyebrows, the perfect curve of her lips, an extravagance of lashes framing a pair of starlit eyes. Beautiful, you think, might be too simple a word.

You reach out to trace a finger along her cheek, the touch startling her eyes into widening. You bite your lips again, peering at her through your own curtain of lashes, somehow both bashful and bold.

"Ms. Tao… can I have a kiss?"

"I — uh — sure, but wh —"

You slot your lips over hers, cutting her off with the soft press of your mouth. It's just a breath, a sweet, simple thing. But Tao sits, shocked still for a single beat, before her eyes flutter closed and she's pushing forward, that dark cavern yawning open inside her as she groans, dragging you bodily into her lap, a hand coming up to grab at your jaw, tilting your head as she licks into your mouth. She kisses you frenzied and urgent and so, so hungry. There's a skittering pulse bubbling through her as she groans, pressing on your cheeks to force your mouth open as she runs her tongue along the backsides of your teeth.

She cannot remember the last time she's been kissed, let alone like this. Dark flashes of half-forgotten memories — unlit alleys and cracking lips, whiskey-stung breaths fogging the chilly winter air.

You don't toil in the veils of death without learning how to dance with desire first. And Tao can't remember which came first — her first kill or her first kiss. She's always thought it funny there's only a one letter difference.

You kiss her slow, meeting her urgency with a sweet, honey-tongued patience. Tao makes a pitched noise in the back of her throat that sounds almost like a whine.

You let out a small puff of surprised laughter, leaning forward to nip playfully at her lips. Tao huffs, slightly annoyed, before she yanks you back and sinks her teeth into your bottom lip. You make a noise like a surprised mouse, gasping at the sharp shock of pain; Tao pulls away, licking a smear of blood from her lips.

The moment crystallizes around you, you with your doe-wide eyes and Tao with her blood-stained lips. Then, Tao frowns, a strange tingling spreading from her lips and tongue, all the way down her throat. A slight shiver wracks her body as heat pools in her belly.

You blink, nonplussed.

"Ms. Tao… are you —"

"Ah shit." She lets her head thump back as a threading, pulsing need starts to gather in her gut.

You frown. Tao sighs, reaching up to pinch at her nose bridge. Memories of a long-closed case flicker behind her eyes like the hazy stills from a bygone movie. Phrases jump out at her like lurid pull-quotes in tabloid magazines — black market, aphrodisiac, beastmen blood trade —

"How much do you know about your blood?" she asks, cursing inwardly at the tightness in her voice. She casts her eyes up at the ceiling, watching as the blades of the fan spin in slow, useless circles.

"I — the men at the brothel…" you frown, sitting back on your heels, "they… always drew my blood when I went into heat but…" you glance back at Tao, your eyes catching on the dark flush in her cheeks, the light sheen of sweat on her skin.

You swipe your tongue across your lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood.

Tao sighs, scratching at her temples with a thumb as she takes another long drag of her cig.

"Long story short, when beastmen go into heat, their hormones saturate their blood to signal to other beastmen that they're in heat — and if that blood is extracted and given to a human —"

"It… creates an aphrodisiac effect…" you finish, pressing a hand to your mouth.

Tao grunts, dropping her gloved hand.

"Goes for good money on the black market," Tao says, ashing her cig before finishing it off with a single puff, letting the smoke wreath out from the corners of her lips.

"I'm sorry —"

"Stop that."

You purse your lips as Tao slates you a hard-lined look.

"Don't apologize — it ain't your fault. I just… forgot for a second."

You inch closer to her on the bed, a bright, determined light behind your eyes as you say — "I wanna help."

Tao scoffs, "It's fine. Y'don't have t —"

"But I want to."

Tao stills, letting her gaze flit over the shape of you, still perfectly naked, sitting in her bed, your tail swishing behind you, both your ears perked towards her.

"Tao, please — let me help."

Tao's lips twitch.

"Mm. What happened to Ms. Tao?"

You flush, finally glancing away even as Tao lets out a rumbling laugh, reaching for you.

"Alright then — c'mere."

You scramble into her lap, her hands settling around your waist. Her eyes are soft, her expression more open than you've ever seen it before. You wonder if it's just the effects of your blood before she tugs you down for another kiss.

You feel her body soften beneath you as you shift to straddle her proper, letting your hands wander down the length of her torso, brushing light fingers over the hard buds of her nipples straining through her tank. You grin into the kiss, squeaking when Tao rucks her hips up with a grunt.

"Don't be a brat."

You press your lips around another sly smile; Tao feels her heart skid inside her chest, the friction like a scraped knee, pain twisted with a raw, exhilarating pleasure singing through her making her feel dizzy and reckless as you tug at the hem of her tanktop .

"Ms. Tao… can I?" you ask, fingers dancing along the soft fabric.

Tao gruffs.

"Go on."

You grin, giddy as you lean up to meld your lips again, inching your fingers beneath her top, exploring the hard expanse of her stomach, feeling the slight ridges of old scars. Eventually, you break the kiss to help pull the dark tank off her body, and you're not able to keep the appreciative sigh from hissing out of you as you drink in her semi-naked form.

Your tongue swipes out across your lips. Tao scoffs.

"If you're gonna drool, don't do it on my bed."

You crinkle your nose, your ears flattening as you narrow your eyes.

"'M not drooling."

Tao quirks an eyebrow.

"Mm… that's not what your pretty pussy was sayin' earlier."

But the next second, you're leaning back in to kiss at her neck, letting your canines skim across her sensitive skin, drawing out a sharp gasp, followed by a low, needy groan.

You hum against the saltine softness of her shoulder, cheeks burning with the tang of her words — not that you'd expected her to be polite, but still. You nuzzle your nose into her jugular, taking a long breath in. She smells like tobacco smoke and wood sage, mixed with something sweeter — some unnamed flower, you think, parting your lips to suck at her pulse.

She rewards you with a faint hum of pleasure.

You'd never pegged her as the kind of woman to wear perfume. Then again, there's a lot about her you still don't know.

You content yourself with lapping your slow way down her front, her fingers threaded through your hair, guiding you closer or pulling you away, hissing when you take tiny little nips at the skin of her collarbones.

She ticks her tongue against her teeth as you flick your eyes up to meet her gaze, tail swishing behind you, your lips poised over her lush breasts. You really can't keep from swallowing, your mouth actually starting to water at the sight.

"So pretty," you say, nuzzling between them with a soft mewl, purring loudly.

Tao sighs.

"Behave."

You crinkle your nose, dipping down to let your hot breath wash over her pebbled nipples, your hand reaching up to cup the other, delighting in the way her breath catches. She reaches down to give your tail a warning tug. You whine gently before latching your lips around a nipple, rolling the other between your fingers, reveling in her abortive gasp, a gravely groan rumbling through her chest. It's intoxicating, pleasuring her like this, and your cunt pulses with a fresh wave of want as you pull off one of her tits to swap to the other.

The nails of her good hand skims along your scalp, reaching up scratch along the base of your ears. You keen, twisting in her lap as she smirks down at you.

"Easy thing to please, aren't you?"

You lean down, tongue flicking out to run a neat circle around one puffy nipple, then the other.

Tao's fingers fist in your hair, tugging hard enough to sting.

A warped moan works its way out of her throat, jagged and torn along the edges, her eyes upcast, her chest heaving as you purr with your lips wrapped around her tits, alternating between your mouth and your dexterous fingers.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit —"

Her body jerks as you bite down gently, her hand yanking you back by the hair as she sucks in a ragged breath.

Her eyes are dark and slightly unfocused as she looks back at you, her fingers still curled in your hair. You let yourself go limp in her grip before she loosens it and you shake out of her grasp, ears flicking.

"Man… guess bein' at the brothel really taught you a thing or two."

You flash her a toothy grin, giddy with the way her words are missing their usual nonchalance, the monotone replaced by a forced shallowness. Faintly, you feel the gathering wetness between your thighs again but you ignore it for shimmying down the length of the bed to settle between her legs.

Tao puffs out a small laugh, her cheeks stained with color.

"Christ."

You quirk your head, pillowing your cheek on her well-muscled thigh, tracing abstract shapes into her skin with your fingers.

"Ms. Tao… can I please taste you?"

You work a soft, rolling purr into the baseline of your voice, letting your tail sweep up to graze against her calves.

"Jesus fuck." Tao curses, her head thumping back against the wall with another dull thunk. Your ear twitches, but you keep yourself still, watching as Tao sucks in another long, decidedly shaky breath.

"Right — let's see what that smart mouth can d — ah shit — mngh —!"

You'd pushed forward, flattening your tongue against the damp material of her underwear, lapping at her over the dark fabric, moaning at the sour-sweetness of her cunt, even through the thick, utilitarian cloth. Your tail flicks happily at kick in her voice, the helpless way her body had bowed over you.

You mewl, long and deep, burying your face between her thighs, mouthing at her hungrily. The sweet, musky scent of her wetness making your head spin, and you nose mindlessly against the damp patch there, keening as you inching forward.

"Ms. Tao you smell so good…"

Tao huffs, pushing at your shoulder with her gloved hand.

You pull back with a satisfied grin. Her eyes are dark and half-lidded, her cheeks high with color. She reaches out to flick at your forehead with a single finger.

"You really are a brat, y'know that?"

You hum, making a show of licking your lips as she shoots you a half-hearted glare. Then, she's dragging you down by the hair, pushing your face between her thighs as she tugs aside the crotch of her panties.

Your startled yelp morphs into a low groan as you press your tongue between her slick folds, lapping greedily at the juices there.

"Nngh — sweet fuck —" Tao bucks up against your mouth, pleasure radiating through her as you wrap your lips around her clit and suck. She can't remember the last time she's felt like this, the last time she allowed herself to feel like this — all frayed edges and soft, roiling want.

She wants to blame it all on the searing heat your blood had chased into her veins, but she knows that even without it, a part of her had wanted this, wanted you, debauched and desperate, pressed between her legs, her holding you down as she took her pleasure, used you just as thoroughly as any low-life deviant might have at that illegal brothel.

The thought makes her hiss, the tension in her gut coiling like a spring.

And for a second, she lets her mind go, lets herself sink into the way you seem so taken with eating her out, alternating long, flat slides of your tongue with short little kitten-licks. How you seem so engrossed you're whining to yourself, hips wiggling behind you, your tail swaying in wide, languid arcs.

Her vision blurs around the edges as you push in impossibly further, probing your tongue into her now dripping cunt, your teeth skimming against her clit, sending bright bursts of pleasure ricocheting through her.

"Damnit — shit — ah —"

A brief spike of jealousy knifes through her at the distant thought that you must've learned all this somewhere, with someone, followed immediately by the white-hot burn of possessiveness raking long talons through her chest.

She looks down at you, your gaze fractured by lust, cheeks dark with exertion, your hips rocking down restlessly into the mattress.

"Touch yourself," she says, careless now of how husky her voice sounds, giving your hair a tiny jerk as you immediately shimmy a hand down beneath your body, keening at the contact.

"Oh fuck — you don't cum — till I say — got it?"

You let out a pitched whine, nodding. Tao gasps as your tongue draws a tight circle around her clit, the friction sending sparks racing through her to explode behind her eyelids.

"Ah — shit I'm cl-close —" her voice breaks over the last syllable as her climax peaks and courses through her. You mewl, lapping at her cunt with a near-ardent fervor as she rides out her orgasm against your face, her hips rolling up into you even as she tugs you away from her, laughing faintly at the mess smeared across your nose and chin.

Her eyes flicker down to where your fingers are still pressed between your thighs, and she jerks her head.

"C'mere —"

She shifts to make room for you next to her, reaching down to hook her fingers into your puffy cunt as well, guiding your hand as she grinds the heel of her palm against your swollen clit. You whimper, arching into her, your mouth falling open.

"That's right kitten, cum for me."

Your breath comes in hapless little gasps as you come undone over her fingers and yours, and she leans down to press her lips into your hair, an instinctual thing, her body moving before she can stop herself. She soothes you down from your high, your eyes blinking open, a sleepy little smile stretching your lips. Tao sighs, affection taking root in her chest like an unwitting weed carving through the sidewalk cracks, even as she draws back to grab a wad of tissues and her cellphone.

"Hey — yeah, Alma. You can come back now. Bring dinner. Mm. Sure, yeah, sounds good."

She snaps the phone shut, dropping it onto the bedside table.

Outside, the last dregs of sunlight are seeping beyond the far horizon, the conflagration of city lights painting the walls of her small room in bright pinks and greens and neon reds.

Tao lights up another cigarette, tipping her head up to blow out the smoke. She closes her eyes, lets the encroaching darkness sink into her weary muscles before leaning down to clean the both of you up. She tsks, frowning.

"C'mon, we need to shower."

You whine, an insistent purr thrumming through you as you curl deeper into her side.

"Up," she says, pinching at the base of your tail. You shoot up, pouting. She rolls her eyes.

"We gotta shower before Alma gets home."

You reluctantly pull yourself off her bed, wobbling slightly on your bare feet. Tao leans over to let you press against her, leading the pair of you to the tiny bathroom. At the threshold, you twist up to look at her.

"Ms. Tao?"

"Hm?"

"Can I… sleep with your in your bed tonight?"

Tao sighs, that dull throb of affection clunking inside her; she itches at her forehead to keep herself from frowning too hard, considering you for a long second before nodding.

"Yeah, sure. Just tonight though."

You flash her a smile that makes her stomach perform a sort of uncertain flip, wariness seeping into the marrow of her bones as she steps into the bathroom after you.

Certainly, she thinks she's old enough to know the difference between a want and a need, and she's never needed much. But just here, watching you pick your careful way into the bathtub, turning around to tilt your head at her, a question in your eyes, a guileless smile on your lips, she wonders if there really is all that much difference between the two.

Or perhaps that if you wanted something badly enough, it might turn into a need instead.

"Ms. Tao? Didn't you want to shower before Alma gets home?"

Tao gives her head a small shake, kicking off her soiled underwear and inching into the bathtub after you, grabbing the shower head. She tamps down the burgeoning warmth that threatens to twist itself too tightly around her thumping heart.

She'll worry about all that later, she decides, as the hot water washes down her sweat-slicked skin. There's plenty of time for worrying in this huge, fucked up world. You giggle as she spritzes your cheek with water and she allows herself the barest hint of a real smile.

But first, she thinks, letting her eyes fall shut as you run your palms up her chest, reaching up to help wash her hair, some clean clothes and a big dinner would do a whole damn world of good.

For the both of you.

[BONUS 1]

"Oi, money-grubber!"

"Huh? What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Ms. Tao told me to come here after grabbing meds for Ms. Kitty, and she told me to stay here till she calls. So… here I am!"

Tatsuomi looks from the bag of drugs in Alma's hands to his completely clueless expression; he snorts, breaking into a gleeful cackle as Alma cocks his head.

"What?"

"Oh, nothin'." Tatsuomi drops back into his swivel chair, kicking out his legs as Alma steps into the large makeshift office, frowning.

"What're you not tellin' me, money-grubber?"

Tatsuomi hums tunelessly to himself, even as the tall black panther beastman sitting behind him coughs uncomfortably into his hand.

"Uh — shouldn't we —"

"Nope~! If Tao-darlin' didn't tell him, then it's not our job either! Hey, come help sort these files — yer gonna be here for a looong while yet, buddy boy! Ha!"

"Money-grubber!"

"I ain't sayin' nothin~ I ain't sayin' nothin~ Alma's a big dumb-dumb and I ain't sayin' nothin'~!"

"Shut up and tell me!"

"Oi! That's expensive stuff yer tossin' around! Put that down!"

[BONUS 2]

"What on earth is this dry-cleaning bill for your leather glove, Tao?!"

Tao pulls the phone away from her ear, Yoki's voice crackling out from the mic. She flicks her cigarette against her ashtray, eyes scanning across the daily headlines.

"Would you have preferred it if I took the glove off and just used my prosthetic instead?"

Yoki makes an alarmed chuffing noise.

"Wh — no! You know you can't get the inner gears wet!"

"Mm."

"But… oh man… that was lamb's leather! Do you know how expensive it is to clean? And — and —" he breaks off with an embarrassed huff before continuing, "it's not like that stuff is easy to clean out."

Tao hums, her voice flat, "Sure. Thanks."

Yoki whines, "So, did you tell Alma about it?"

Tao flips a page of the newspaper.

"Nope."

"Don't you think you should?"

Tao flips another page.

"Hm. Rich for someone who shirked the responsibility onto someone else. What'dyou tell him again? To wait for me to take care of it?"

"Okay, but what was I supposed to do?! Explain beastmen heat cycles to him on the phone?!"

"You coulda."

Yoki lets out a beleaguered whine.

"M-maybe next time he's here, we can just give him a book on it to read."

"Good idea. I gotta go."

Tao hangs up the phone.

The door bursts open, Alma stumbling through looking bewildered.

"Ms. Tao! Yaya was just telling me some super weird stuff about beastmen a-and — it's not true is it? W-with Ms. Kitty and — and the other day?"

Tao stares; a crinkle of ash crumbles off the tip of her cig.

She sighs, reaching up to dig the heel of her hand into her eyes.