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I feel like I’m doing too many breeding fics but at the same time, y’all keep asking specifically for breeding sooooo I hope y’all aren’t tired of the breeding kink 😭
Sorry if this is a bit vague but could you write something with Ivan and breeding sometime?
Clinical Relief (Hetalia Ivan Braginsky x Reader)
(MDNI! NSFW! Cw: unprotected sex, breeding, several orgasms)
The inside of the clinic surprised you the moment you stepped through the door. After all the hesitant searching online the reception area was clean, modern, and softly lit. The receptionist had been polite, and now here you were in the exam room, perched on the edge of the padded table in your shorts and an oversized t-shirt that slipped off one shoulder. You swung one foot nervously, the paper liner crinkling under your thighs every time you shifted.
Your body had been betraying you for weeks. The constant, gnawing heat low in your belly. The way even the brush of fabric against your skin could make you throb. You’d tried so hard to be good—twice a week, that was the rule you’d set for yourself—but it never lasted. One orgasm only left you aching for the next, sometimes within minutes, and your focus had completely shattered. Work, music, sketching, even just existing felt impossible when your mind kept sliding into filthy, desperate places. So you thought it’d be best to make an appointment.
A firm, confident knock sounded on the door.
The door opened and Dr. Ivan Braginsky stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft click. Your breath caught.
He was tall with broad shoulders that filled out the crisp white coat. Platinum-blond hair was neatly combed back from a strong, handsome face: sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and those striking violet eyes that immediately found yours. His presence was commanding, almost intimidating in its quiet intensity, yet there was something steady and attentive in the way he looked at you. Unfairly attractive. The kind of man who made your already over-sensitized body clench harder just from existing in the same room.
“Miss,” he greeted, voice a deep, rolling rumble with a thick Russian accent. “I am Dr. Ivan Braginsky. We will go over your history, da?”
You nodded, suddenly much shyer than you had been while filling out the forms. Your cheeks warmed as he pulled the rolling stool closer and sat, long legs spread, clipboard balanced on one thick thigh. Those violet eyes flicked over you once, calm, professional, but lingering just a second longer than strictly necessary on your flushed face and the way you kept pressing your thighs together.
He began with the standard questions, pen moving in neat strokes. Age. Allergies. Current medications. Past illnesses or surgeries. Family history. Sexual history. You answered each one softly, voice growing smaller every time his gaze lifted to meet yours. He was so large and solid and handsome in that white coat, the stethoscope draped around his neck. Your heart beat faster. You felt small and exposed. The ache between your legs only intensified with every pass of his eyes.
Finally, he set the clipboard aside and leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. His voice dropped lower, gentler. “And what brings you in today? What has been troubling you?”
You looked down at your lap, fingers twisting in the hem of your t-shirt. Heat flooded your face and neck. It came out in a mortified whisper, barely audible.
“Well… I’ve been incredibly horny… Like it doesn’t feel normal. I touch myself and make myself orgasm and immediately I need it again. I try to limit myself to orgasming twice a week but god-- I can’t focus on anything. I’m worried that it’s not normal.”
Your thighs crossed tighter, one ankle hooking behind the other, trying desperately to hide the way your body was throbbing, the way slick had already begun to gather between your folds just from saying it out loud in front of him.
Dr. Braginsky studied you in silence for a long moment. Those violet eyes traced over your flushed cheeks, the way your chest rose and fell a little too quickly under the t-shirt, the tight press of your crossed legs. Something shifted in his expression, professional, but darker and more intent.
“I see,” he said quietly. The accent made the simple words feel heavier, more intimate. “It could be a hormone imbalance or something else. Either way, it can be quite uncomfortable… distressing, even. You were right to come.”
You swallowed hard, the need clawing higher now. Your voice came out small, almost begging. “Please… I just want relief, Doctor. I can’t keep living like this.”
He held your gaze for another beat, then nodded once, decisive. “I’ll need to examine you more thoroughly for a proper diagnosis. Is that acceptable to you?”
You nodded quickly, too desperate to overthink it.
A faint, pleased curve touched his mouth. He stood, towering over you now, and his voice dropped to a low, velvet murmur. “Good girl.”
The praise sent a fresh rush of heat straight between your legs. You bit your lip.
He instructed you gently to slip off your shorts and panties. With trembling fingers you did, letting the soft fabric and your simple panties slide down your legs and pool on the floor. The t-shirt stayed on, hem brushing the tops of your thighs. You lay back on the table as he guided you, the paper crinkling loudly. He positioned your legs into the stirrups, spreading you open. Cool air kissed your exposed pussy and you shivered.
Dr. Braginsky moved between your spread thighs, gloved hands resting lightly on your knees for a moment. Then he reached down and parted your puffy, swollen folds with two fingers. The touch was gentle, clinical… but it made you moan both involuntary and needy.
“Sorry!” you gasped immediately, slapping one hand over your mouth, eyes wide with mortification.
He chuckled, low and warm, the sound rumbling in his broad chest. “That’s okay. It’s normal. You’re very sensitive right now. Breathe for me.”
His gloved fingers began to explore careful strokes along your slick folds, circling your swollen clit with the pad of his thumb. You whimpered behind your hand, hips twitching. He watched your face the entire time, violet eyes dark and focused.
Then one thick gloved finger slipped inside you, sinking easily into the wet heat. You clenched around it instantly.
“You’re soaked,” he murmured, voice rougher now. “Extremely wet and swollen. How are you feeling?”
“Fuck— sososo good—” The words tumbled out broken and desperate before you could stop them.
“You’re very responsive,” he said, almost to himself. His finger curled inside you, stroking that sensitive front wall while his thumb kept circling your clit. “Let’s see how you orgasm under controlled conditions, da?”
He worked you with steady, knowledgeable attention, switching between rubbing your puffy outer folds, sliding that finger in and out in slow, deep thrusts, then adding a second when your body opened for him so eagerly. His thumb never stopped stroking your clit, firm and relentless. He talked you through it the whole time, voice low and coaxing.
“That’s it… good girl. Let your body feel it. You’ve been holding this in for so long. Relax for me. Breathe. You’re doing so well…”
The pressure built too fast. Your back arched off the table. Your free hand gripped the edge of the exam table so hard your knuckles went white. The t-shirt had ridden up, exposing the soft lower swell of your breasts. You were panting, whimpering, thighs trembling in the stirrups.
When you came, it was hard, fast, and loud. A broken, sobbing moan echoed off the walls as your cunt fluttered and clenched around his fingers, slick gushing out around them. Your vision whited out for a few blinding seconds. Relief crashed through you, sharp and perfect.
But the second he slowly withdrew his hand, the ache returned almost deeper. A pitiful whimper tore from your throat. Your hips lifted helplessly, chasing nothing. “Please— I still— I need more—”
Dr. Braginsky watched you for a long moment, chest rising and falling a little faster beneath the white coat. A prominent bulge strained against the front of his slacks. He peeled the gloves off with a quiet snap and tossed them into the bin. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, rougher, the professional mask slipping just enough to show the heat underneath.
“This is… very unprofessional of me. But I can’t just refuse a patient in need.” His bare hand rested on your inner thigh, thumb stroking slow circles on sensitive skin. “If you’d like, I can continue the treatment. More orgasms… perhaps we can actually help fix the problem. I could use my fingers again. My mouth…” His eyes dropped to your still-fluttering, dripping pussy, then back to your dazed face. “Or I can fuck you. Fill you properly. Your body might respond better to a real cock instead of your own fingers.”
You looked up at him, eyes glassy, lips parted, chest heaving. The need was written all over you—thighs still spread wide in the stirrups, cunt visibly clenching around nothing, slick shining on your inner thighs.
You nodded.
The nod was all he needed.
Dr. Braginsky’s violet eyes flashed with dark satisfaction. Without another word he rose to his full height, crossed the small exam room in two strides, and turned the lock on the door with a deliberate, final click. The sound sent a fresh shiver through your already trembling body. He reached up and dimmed the overhead lights until the room was bathed in a softer glow—still clinical, but intimate now, private.
When he returned to stand between your spread thighs, he shrugged the white coat off his broad shoulders. Underneath was a fitted light-blue button-up, sleeves already rolled to the elbows. He sat back down, scooting the stool forward until his face was level with your exposed, dripping pussy.
One large, bare hand rested on your inner thigh, thumb stroking slow, soothing circles.
“Poor girl,” he rumbled, accent thick and low, “you’re all wet and desperate.”
The words made you whimper. He used two thick fingers to gently part your puffy, swollen folds again, inspecting you with slow, deliberate touches. He spread you open, watching the way fresh slick welled up and dripped from your entrance, how your clit throbbed visibly, how your inner walls fluttered around nothing. His touch stayed gentle, almost clinical, but there was nothing clinical in the way his eyes darkened or in the low sound of approval he made in his throat.
Then he leaned in.
You felt the heat of his breath first. Then the flat drag of his tongue. One stripe from your fluttering entrance all the way up to your swollen clit.
Your reaction was instant and loud.
A broken, sobbing moan tore from your throat. Your back arched hard off the table, one hand flying down to fist in his platinum-blond hair while the other gripped the side of the exam table so tightly the metal creaked. Your thighs tried to snap closed around his head, but the stirrups held you open, helpless and spread wide for him. Your hips jerked upward, chasing his mouth.
He chuckled against your soaked cunt, the vibration shooting straight through you.
“That’s it… let me hear you, solnyshko.”
His mouth sealed over your clit and he sucked. Gentle at first then with more focused pressure. His tongue flicked and circled, lapping at you like he was savoring every drop. At the same time two thick fingers slid back inside you, curling immediately against that perfect spot, thrusting slow and deep while his thumb occasionally stroked the stretched rim of your entrance.
The dual sensation was overwhelming.
You cried out again with your head thrown back. Every suck of his mouth sent sparks racing up your spine. Every curl of his fingers made fresh slick gush around his hand. He worked with patient, devastating thoroughness. He sucked your clit in steady pulses while his fingers stroked and twisted inside you, scissoring gently, pressing relentlessly against your g-spot. Between licks and sucks he talked to you, voice muffled but rough with arousal, accent curling around every word.
“Good girl… that’s my good girl. Let it happen. You’ve been so patient, so desperate… cum on my tongue. Let the Doctor take care of this needy little pussy. You taste so sweet, dorogaya… so wet for me…”
Your second orgasm crashed over you even harder than the first. Your whole body seized, back bowing off the table, a high, sobbing wail ripping from your throat as your cunt clamped down around his fingers and pulsed against his tongue. Slick gushed around his hand. Your vision blurred with tears of overwhelming pleasure. Your free hand flew up to cover your mouth again out of sheer overwhelmed instinct, but he reached up without stopping and pulled it away, pinning your wrist lightly to the table.
“No hiding,” he growled against your clit, still sucking, still thrusting his fingers through every spasm. “I want every sound. Every drop. Good girl—fuck, that’s it—cum for me again.”
Your thighs shook violently in the stirrups, hair sticking to your damp cheeks and neck, eyes squeezed shut as wave after wave rolled through you.
He licked you through every aftershock, slower now soft laps and tender sucks on your oversensitive clit until you were twitching and whimpering from the intensity, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. Only when your trembling started to ease did he finally lift his head.
His lips and chin glistened with your arousal. He looked up at you with dark, hungry violet eyes, one large hand still resting possessively on your inner thigh, thumb idly stroking your swollen folds.
“Better?” he asked, voice rough and low.
But your body answered for you.
Even after two intense orgasms your cunt was still clenching around nothing, still aching, still dripping. A small, pitiful whimper escaped you. Your hips lifted weakly toward his mouth again, thighs trembling in the stirrups.
He smiled, dark, and deeply satisfied. He pressed a lingering kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh.
He studied you for a long moment. Your desperate, wrecked expression, the way your hips kept twitching upward like your body was begging on its own. He spoke, voice low, rough, and thick with that Russian accent, the words filthy and possessive.
“Oh, I know what this poor little pussy needs.” His thumb stroked slowly over your swollen clit, making you jolt. “It needs to be filled, da? Needs to be bred like a good little cunt.”
You were so far gone that all you could do was nod.
Your hand drifted down instinctively, fingers seeking your own clit for any kind of relief, but Ivan moved fast. His large hand snapped around your wrist and pinned it firmly to the table beside your head. The sudden dominance made your breath catch.
“No.”
The single word was sharp, final. You whimpered, high and pitiful, hips bucking uselessly in the stirrups. Your other hand fisted in the paper liner instead, knuckles white.
He held your wrist there for another beat, violet eyes locked on yours, making sure you understood. Then he released you only to reach down and unzip his slacks. The sound of the zipper seemed obscenely loud in the dim room. He pushed the fabric down just enough to free his cock already leaking precum. You watched, transfixed, mouth parted, as he wrapped one big hand around himself and gave a few slow, deliberate strokes. The sight made fresh slick gush from you.
He didn’t look away from your face once.
Two thick fingers slid through your soaked folds, gathering the mess of your previous orgasms and he dragged it up, coating his cock in it. He stroked himself again, slower this time, spreading your wetness all over his length until it glistened. The obscene, wet sound of it made you whine.
Then he lined up the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, parting your puffy folds. He cursed in Russian, “Blyat…” as he began to push inside.
The stretch was immediate and intense. You cried out, loud and broken, as the thick head breached you. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him, trying to pull him deeper even as the burn of the stretch made your eyes water. He was big, thick enough that you felt every ridge, every vein. He sank in inch by slow, relentless inch, grunting softly with each forward rock of his hips until he was buried to the hilt, pelvis flush against yours, the head of his cock pressing deep against your cervix.
“Such a tight little cunt,” he growled between clenched teeth, accent thicker now, rough with pleasure. One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.
“Fuck… taking me so well already. Greedy little thing.”
You could only whine and moan. Your eyes were wide and glassy, tears clinging to your lashes as you looked down between your bodies at where he was splitting you open. Your free hand flew up to grip his forearm, nails digging in. He stayed buried deep, letting you feel every inch of him, letting your body adjust to the overwhelming fullness that finally eased the constant, gnawing ache.
“Better?” he asked, voice dark and teasing even as his cock twitched inside you. “This what you needed, solnyshko? A real cock to fill this desperate little pussy?”
You nodded again, frantic, a broken “Yes— Doctor— please—” tumbling out between moans.
He started to move, deep thrusts at first, pulling almost all the way out until just the head remained inside, then sinking back into the root with a wet, filthy sound. Each stroke dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. Your moans turned into a constant stream of needy, high-pitched whines. Your hips tried to meet him, but the stirrups and his grip kept you exactly where he wanted you.
“Such a good girl,” he praised, voice strained as he picked up the pace. “Taking every inch like you were made for it. Gonna breed this tight little cunt full, da? Pump you so full you’ll feel me for days.”
The words sent a fresh rush of heat through you. You sobbed out another moan, back arching hard. Your free hand reached for him blindly, gripping his shirt, his arm, anything, as he fucked you harder, the wet slap of skin against skin growing louder in the dim room. Every thrust punched a broken sound from your throat. Your clit throbbed untouched, swollen and needy.
Ivan’s violet eyes stayed locked on your face, watching every expression, every tear, every desperate moan. One hand slid up under your bunched t-shirt to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as he drove into you.
“Look at you,” he growled, accent curling thick around the words. “So pretty when you’re getting bred. My good little patient… my perfect, desperate girl.”
You were completely lost in the stretch, the fullness, the filthy praise, the way his cock kept hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. Your moans had turned into a steady, broken litany of “please— more— Ivan— Doctor—” mixed with helpless whimpers every time he bottomed out.
He leaned down over you, still thrusting deep and steady, and pressed his forehead to yours for a moment, breathing hard.
“Gonna cum for me again?” he murmured against your lips. “Gonna cum on my cock while I fill you up?”
Your answer was a loud, sobbing moan and another frantic nod, your body already tightening around him, the pressure building fast and unstoppable.
He groaned and fucked you harder, the exam table creaking beneath you, your thighs shaking violently in the stirrups.
“That’s it… cum for me. Let me feel this tight little cunt milk me while I breed you.”
You sobbed as the orgasm finally tore through you. Your whole body seized around him. Your cunt clamped down hard, pulsing and fluttering around his thick cock as wave after wave crashed over you. Ivan didn’t stop. He kept thrusting through it, deep and steady, one hand still gripping your hip while the other stroked your trembling thigh.
“That’s it, solnyshko… good girl,” he growled, voice rough and thick with his Russian accent, never missing a beat. “Cum on my cock. Let it all out. Milk me while I breed this tight little cunt. Such a perfect girl—fuck, just like that—coming so hard for me.”
You sobbed again, the pleasure overwhelming, your thighs shaking violently in the stirrups as he fucked you through every spasm. Slick and cum gushed around his length with every thrust. Your moans turned into broken, hiccupping cries until the waves finally began to crest and ease, leaving you panting and oversensitive, chest heaving.
He didn’t pull out right away. He kept moving, letting you catch your breath while your walls continued to flutter around him. You were limp and trembling, when he finally eased back.
With a wet, obscene pop, he pulled his cock free. He was still painfully hard, flushed dark and glistening with your mess, a thick string of slick connecting him to your puffy, dripping entrance for a second before it broke.
“Up,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.
Your legs felt like jelly, but you obeyed. He helped free your feet from the stirrups, strong hands steadying you as you sat up and then stood on shaky legs beside the exam table. The cool air kissed your bare skin. Without a word, Ivan reached for the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up and off in one smooth motion, leaving you completely naked. He sat down on an oversized office chair, legs spread, his thick cock standing proud against his stomach. Those violet eyes dragged over your naked body with open hunger.
“Come here. Ride me.”
You didn’t hesitate. You stepped forward on unsteady legs and straddled his lap, one knee on either side of the chair. His large hands gripped your hips, guiding you as he lined the head of his cock up with your soaked entrance. The stretch as you sank down was intense all over again, your walls parting around his thickness until you were seated fully in his lap, impaled to the root. A long, broken moan spilled from your lips at the deep fullness.
Ivan groaned, head tipping back for a second before he leaned forward and took one of your nipples into his hot mouth. He sucked tongue flicking over the stiff peak while his hands held your hips steady. You began to move, rolling your hips in slow, grinding circles at first, then lifting up and sinking back down in shallow, experimental bounces. Every time you dropped, his cock pressed deep, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you.
You moaned loudly, head falling back. The pleasure was different like this. You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you completely, the way your clit ground against the base of his cock with every downward roll.
He released your nipple with a wet pop, lips shiny, and looked up at you with dark, heavy-lidded eyes.
“That’s it… ride me, good girl. Take what you need.”
Your hands moved to his chest. You fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, fingers clumsy with pleasure, but you managed to undo them one by one. You pushed the fabric off his broad shoulders, baring the sculpted planes of his chest and the faint trail of hair leading down to his cock. Your palms slid over warm skin and hard muscle, feeling the way his chest rose and fell faster as you rode him.
You threw your head back in pure pleasure as you sank down especially deep. Your hips moved in slow, sensual waves, savoring the stretch, the fullness, the way his cock twitched inside you every time your walls clenched.
But Ivan was losing patience. His large hands tightened on your hips and he began to move you himself. He lifted you up and pulled you back down onto his cock in steady, forceful strokes, using your body like a sleeve. The chair creaked beneath you both. Each time he dragged you down, he thrust his hips up to meet you, burying himself to the hilt with wet, filthy sounds.
“Fuck— look at you,” he growled, accent rougher now, voice strained with building desperation. “Taking my cock so deep. Such a perfect little cunt. Gonna breed you just like this—fill you up while you ride me.”
He bounced you harder on his length, controlling every movement. Your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts. You could only moan and whimper, hands braced on his bare chest for balance, completely at his mercy as he used you. The pleasure was sharp and overwhelming. Your clit was rubbing against him with every drop, his cock hitting deep and relentless.
You were far gone again, head lolling, eyes glassy, soft moans and broken whines spilling from your parted lips as he fucked you onto his cock like he owned it.
“That’s it… just take it,” he panted, one hand sliding up to fist gently in your long hair, tugging your head back so he could watch your face. “My good girl. My desperate little patient. Gonna cum again while I use this tight pussy?”
Your answer was a loud, sobbing moan as another orgasm began to build fast under his rough guidance.
He slapped your ass hard. The sharp crack of his palm against your soft skin rang out in the dim exam room. You whined high and broken, the sting blooming hot across your cheek, your hips jerking involuntarily even as he kept bouncing you on his cock. The sudden pain mixed with the deep stretch made everything sharper, more intense.
You clung to him tighter. Your arms locked around his neck, holding on like he was the only solid thing left in the world. Your face was pressed close to the side of his, breath coming in short, desperate pants against his skin. You could barely form words, voice wrecked and trembling.
“I— Doctor… I’m going to—”
Ivan’s hands flexed hard on your hips. His voice dropped into a low, rough command, thick with that Russian accent and pure need.
“Cum. Cum for me, solnyshko.”
You buried your face in the warm curve of his neck and sobbed. The orgasm hit like a wave breaking. Your whole body locked up around him. Thighs shaking, arms tightening desperately around his neck, cunt clamping down in hard, rhythmic pulses. Tears slipped from your closed eyes as you cried out against his skin, the sound muffled and broken. Every pulse of pleasure dragged another sob from your throat while your walls milked him greedily, fluttering and squeezing around the thick cock still buried deep inside you.
Ivan held you through it. One strong arm wrapped fully around your back, crushing you against his sculpted chest, while the other stayed locked on your hip. He didn’t stop moving you. If anything, the way your pussy was spasming around him only made him more desperate. He started lifting and dropping you faster, using your body in short, hard strokes, milking himself with your still-clenching cunt.
He was a mess, fully pussy-drunk. His breathing was ragged against your ear. Low, guttural Russian curses slipped between the English as he kept bouncing you on his cock, the wet, filthy sounds of your combined slick filling the room with every downward slam.
“Fuck— yes— take it,” he growled, voice rough and breaking. “Gonna breed this perfect little cunt. Gonna fill you so full you’ll be leaking me for days. You’re going to take every drop, da? Every fucking drop of my cum. This tight pussy was made for it— made to be bred by me.”
His hands tightened almost bruisingly on your hips as he drove you down harder, keeping you fully seated so the head of his cock pressed deep against your cervix with every pulse of his own approaching orgasm.
“That’s it— milk me— good girl— take all of it—”
He came loud.
A deep, raw shout tore from his throat as he slammed you down one final time and held you there, buried to the root. Hot, heavy spurts flooded deep inside you, painting your walls, overflowing around the base of his cock as he kept you locked in place. His forehead dropped against your shoulder. His whole body shuddered under you while he emptied himself, still muttering broken praise and filth against your skin.
“Take it… take every drop… such a good girl… my perfect little patient… bred so full…”
He stayed buried deep, arms wrapped tight around you, both of you breathing hard and trembling in the aftermath. His large hands stroked slowly up and down your back now, still possessive but gentler, holding you close while his cock continued to twitch and spill the last of his release inside you.
You were still clinging to his neck, face hidden against him, soft aftershocks fluttering around his spent length.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I suck at naming things guys I’m SO sorry… That’s why my cat has a dumbass name, my pet fish has a dumbass name and my future child will also probably have a (lovingly) dumbass name LOL
im new here BUT would you ever be interested in writing a nsfw romano x reader fic...👀👀 i love that man so much
Under the Wisteria (Hetalia Lovino Vargas x Reader)
(NSFW! MDNI!)
(cw: unprotected sex, breeding)
You push open the heavy oak door to Lovino’s office after knocking once, the sound echoing softly against the marble floors of the villa’s long hallway. The late-afternoon sun pours through the tall arched windows, painting golden stripes across the Persian rug and the dark wood of his massive desk cluttered with ledgers and encrypted phones. The air still carries that heavy, familiar scent, aged leather, and that expensive cologne that always makes your pulse quicken. You saunter in with your arms loosely crossed over your chest, chin high, but inside you’re a knot of confusion and that low, simmering irritation that’s been building for weeks.
He’s been a ghost. Late nights locked in here, rapid-fire Italian on hushed calls that stop the second you appear, armed men slipping through the side entrance. You keep telling yourself he’s the don, the head of the family, that the business doesn’t stop just because his wife craves his attention, but it stings. Every untouched dinner plate, every cold side of the bed, every distracted “not now, bella” while he scrolls through encrypted messages on his phone. You’ve been wandering the rose gardens alone at dusk, wondering if this is what loving Lovino Vargas really means, marrying a man who belongs more to the underworld than to you.
As you walked down that endless hallway just moments ago, heels clicking against the cool tiles, your stomach twisted with the familiar dread. “He’s going to tell me he’s leaving again,” you thought. Another “business trip” to Sicily or Naples or some godforsaken place, gone for who knows how long with nothing but a quick kiss to your forehead and a promise he’ll call when he can. Your lips press into a thin line as you brace for it, ready to nod like the perfect, understanding wife you’re supposed to be.
But the second you step inside and click the door shut behind you, Lovino turns from the window.
He’s not on the phone. He’s not snapping orders at some terrified subordinate. He’s just standing there. Broad shoulders fill out the crisp white dress shirt, one hand loose at his side, the other in the pocket of his tailored black trousers. The light catches the sharp cut of his jaw. To the rest of the world—to the capos waiting downstairs, to the rivals who pale at the mere mention of his name—he is terrifying. Cold green eyes narrowed like he’s already calculating how many ways he could destroy someone before sunset, posture radiating the kind of ruthless power that makes grown men beg. But those same eyes soften the instant they land on you, the hard lines of his face melting like they only ever do when it’s just the two of you.
“Tesoro mio,” he murmurs, voice low and rough like velvet dragged over gravel.
He crosses the room in three long strides. Before you can even draw breath to ask what’s going on, his arms are crushing you flush against the solid heat of his chest. One hand splays wide across your lower back, fingers pressing in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear; the other slides up to cradle the nape of your neck, threading gently into your hair.
“I’m sorry,” he says against the crown of your head, lips brushing your hair. The words are raw, quiet, meant for no one but you. “I’ve been a complete stronzo. Buried in this office, leaving you alone in this ridiculous villa like you’re just another piece of furniture instead of my wife. I saw it every night. The way you look at me across the table and try to hide how annoyed you are. And I hate it. I hate making you feel unwanted.”
He pulls back just enough to frame your face with both hands, thumbs stroking your cheeks as his green eyes search yours, soft and pleading in a way the rest of the world will never see. “So I fixed it. The next two weeks there will be nothing. I cleared every damn thing. No calls, no meetings, no shipments, no idiots with guns clogging up my hallway. I told the capos if they can’t handle it without me, they can burn. I’m yours, completely. Two full weeks of just us. And even after those two weeks are over, I’m making a promise right here: every single day, no matter what the family throws at me, I’m carving out time for you. Morning coffee in the garden, stolen hours in the afternoon, nights where I shut the whole world out and it’s only you and me. You’re never going to feel like second place again.”
Then he leans in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot and deliberate as his voice drops into that sensual, velvet rasp. “And I’ve been ready, amore… so fucking ready to get my wife pregnant.” The words slide over your skin like silk. “Every night I’ve been away from you, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I imagine filling you up slow and deep until you’re dripping with me, watching your belly round with our baby, knowing the whole world will see that you’re mine in the most permanent way. These next two weeks… and every day after… I’m going to take my time with you. I want to feel you come around me while I whisper how I’m putting a baby in you, how I’m going to keep you full and glowing and so loved you’ll never doubt me again. I’ve been aching for it, tesoro, to see you carry the next Vargas heir.”
His arms tighten around you again, one hand sliding down to press possessively against your lower stomach as if he can already imagine it swelling under his touch. He kisses the spot just below your ear, slow and lingering, then nips gently at your lobe before whispering even lower, voice thick with hunger, “Starting tonight. Right here if you want… or in our bed where I can spend hours making sure every inch of you knows exactly how much I’ve missed you. I’m not letting another day go by without my beautiful wife.”
He holds you rocking you gently, the scary Italian don completely gone, replaced by the man who only ever lets himself be this soft for you. For the first time in weeks, the entire world has narrowed down to his arms, his whispered promises, and the delicious, aching heat of what’s coming for the next.
Later that evening, the villa is quiet except for the low hum of the kitchen’s pendant lights. You’re leaning against the marble island in nothing but a soft tank top and loose shorts, phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling while the day’s earlier promises still simmer under your skin. The two weeks he swore to you feel like a secret only the two of you know, but the ache between your thighs has been constant since his whispered words in the office.
You don’t hear him come in, silent as the predator he is to everyone else. The first thing you feel is the heat of his body behind you, then the slow, deliberate press of his lips to the side of your neck.
A shiver races down your spine. His mouth is warm, sucking gently at the sensitive spot just below your ear before his tongue traces a lazy line toward your shoulder. One strong arm slides around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, and you feel the hard line of his cock already straining.
“Here?” you breathe, half-laugh, half-gasp, glancing over your shoulder at him. The kitchen island, the open archway to the dining room, the staff quarters just down the hall, anyone could walk in.
Lovino chuckles low against your skin, the sound vibrating straight through you. “I told you, tesoro… whenever. Wherever.” His voice is that same velvet rasp from earlier, thick with hunger. “I need to show you how much I want you. How much I’ve been dying to fill you.” His free hand skates down your stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your shorts just enough to tease, then lower still. He cups you through the thin fabric, palm pressing firmly against your clothed pussy, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that make your knees buckle. “I’ve waited weeks. I’m not waiting another second.”
You moan before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out raw and needy as his two fingers stroke along your folds. Heat floods you instantly, soaking the fabric under his touch.
He spins you around so fast the phone clatters onto the island. Your back hits the cool marble edge as he drops to his knees in one fluid motion, green eyes locked on yours. With no preamble he yanks your shorts and panties down in one rough tug, then hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and dives in.
His tongue is hot and relentless. He licks a long, flat stripe up your slit, groaning the second he tastes you, then seals his mouth over your clit and sucks. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers threading through those dark curls as your hips jerk forward on instinct, chasing the pleasure. He doesn’t give you time to think, he only devours. His tongue flicks fast and precise, then slows to broad, lazy strokes that drag through your folds and dip inside you, fucking you shallowly while his nose grinds against your clit.
You rock against his face, shameless now, hips rolling in a desperate rhythm as if you can pull his tongue deeper. “Lovino—fuck—” The words break on another moan. He hums in response, the low vibration shooting straight through your core and making your thighs tremble. The sound is filthy, appreciative, like he’s savoring every drop of you. It only makes you grind harder, chasing that perfect pressure.
He sucks your clit again, tongue fluttering rapidly while two thick fingers slide inside you without warning, curling hard against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes. The wet sounds fill the kitchen like the most obscene symphony. Your hips move faster, frantic, riding his face as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter.
He feels it. Lovino hums again, longer this time, the vibration rolling through you like thunder, and that’s all it takes. Your orgasm crashes over you so hard your back arches off the island, a cry tearing from your throat as you come undone on his tongue. Your thighs clamp around his head, hips stuttering, pulsing, flooding his mouth while he keeps licking slow, greedy laps that drag out every aftershock.
He hums again, softer now, almost reverent, as he laps up every last drop of your release. His eyes stay locked on yours from between your legs, dark lashes heavy, lips and chin glistening with you. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling and oversensitive, only then pressing one last open-mouthed kiss to your swollen clit before rising slowly to his feet.
His hands grip your hips to steady you, thumbs stroking your skin like you’re something precious while his cock strains visibly against his trousers and his voice comes out rough with pure need.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you deep and filthy so you can taste yourself on his tongue. “And that’s just the start, amore. I’m nowhere near done with you tonight.”
You’re still trembling against the marble island, thighs slick and shaky from the orgasm he just wrung out of you with his tongue, when Lovino stands up slowly. His green eyes are dark with raw hunger, lips shiny with your release, and he doesn’t waste a second. He crowds you back against the cool edge, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while the other yanks at his belt buckle. The metallic clink echoes in the quiet kitchen as he frees his cock. Thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip and straining angrily toward you like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.
He leans in, voice a low growl against your mouth. “Bend over, tesoro. I’m not waiting another fucking second to bury myself inside you and start breeding that perfect pussy—”
But you slide your hands down, stopping him with a single teasing finger against his chest. With a wicked little smile you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and panties and pull them back up, smoothing the fabric over your still-throbbing core like nothing happened. You tilt your head, voice dropping into the most sultry, velvet purr you can manage dripping with deliberate cruelty.
“Hmm, Lovino… I’m not sure I’m ready to fuck~”
He freezes. Those dangerous green eyes widen like you’ve just told the head of the Vargas family that the sky is purple. His cock twitches visibly in the open air between you, and for a second he genuinely looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.
You bite your lip, letting the silence stretch just long enough to watch his jaw clench. Then you lean in closer, trailing one fingertip down the center of his chest, stopping right above the straining head of his cock without touching it.
“I think I need more convincing that you’re sorry for these lonely nights my love”
He curses viciously in Italian “Cazzo, porca puttana, mi stai uccidendo—” the words rough and filthy as his cock visibly throbs, a fresh bead of precum sliding down the thick vein. His hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting every instinct not to just throw you over his shoulder and take what he wants. But he doesn’t because you’re the only person alive who can bring the terrifying don to his knees with nothing but a sultry little hum.
“What do you want, Tesoro?” he rasps, voice wrecked, accent thicker than you’ve ever heard it. “Name it. Anything. It’s yours. I’ll burn the whole fucking city down if that’s what it takes to get inside you again.”
You pretend to think about it, tapping one finger against your chin while you let your gaze drag slowly down his body to where his cock is. You tilt your head, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Hmm… I do love the idea of the head of the Vargas begging his wife to let him fuck her and breed her…”
Lovino’s breath catches. For one heartbeat the scary Italian disappears completely, replaced by a man so desperate he looks like he might actually drop to his knees right there on the kitchen tiles. Then he does exactly that.
He sinks down in front of you, hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips, green eyes locked on yours with total surrender. His voice comes out low, rough, and so fucking filthy it makes your freshly licked pussy clench around nothing.
“Please, amore mio… let me fuck you. Let your husband bury this aching cock so deep inside you that you feel me for days.” He presses his forehead to your stomach, breath hot through the thin fabric of your tank top. “I’ve been dying for it—every night while I was in that goddamn office I was stroking myself raw thinking about fucking you, filling you until your belly swells with my baby. I’m sorry, Tesoro. I’m so fucking sorry I left you lonely. Let me make it right. Let me beg like the pathetic bastard I am for you.”
His fingers dig into your hips, voice cracking with raw need as he looks up at you, the most powerful man in the underworld on his knees for his wife.
“I need to breed you, bella. I need to pump you so full of my cum that it leaks out of you. I want to watch it drip down your thighs while I keep fucking it back inside where it belongs. Please—let me spread you open right here on this island and rut into you like an animal until you’re pregnant. I’ll be so good for you. I’ll fuck you slow and deep, I’ll suck on your tits while I fill you, I’ll tell you over and over how perfect you’re going to look carrying my heir. Just say yes. Please, tesoro mio, I’m begging you—let your husband breed his wife. Let me put a baby in you tonight. I’ll do anything. I’ll stay on my knees all night if that’s what it takes. Just… please… let me fuck you and fill you until you can’t remember what empty feels like.”
His cock is leaking steadily onto the floor between his knees now, twitching with every filthy word, and his hands are trembling where they grip you, pure desperation written across the face of the man who makes the rest of the world tremble.
He leans forward and whispers against you, “Please, my love. Begging you. Let me in. Let me fuck you. I’m yours to use… just say the word and I’ll give you every drop.”
You’re still standing there against the marble island, shorts back in place, pulse hammering between your thighs as you watch the most dangerous man in the country kneel at your feet, cock throbbing untouched and leaking onto the tile. His green eyes are wild, chest heaving, and you can’t resist pushing him just a little further.
“Yeah?” you purr, voice all honey, dragging the word out slow. “You want my pussy that bad?”
Lovino’s breath stutters. “Yes, amore,” he rasps immediately, the words tumbling out like a prayer. “More than anything. More than the whole fucking empire. I want that tight, perfect pussy wrapped around my cock until I’m fucking you full.”
You bite your lip and crook one finger at him, motioning for him to stand. He rises like a man possessed, towering over you again in an instant, but before he can grab you, you surge up on your toes and crash your mouth against his.
The kiss is desperate, messy, all teeth and tongue and months of pent-up need. He groans into your mouth, hands slamming onto the island on either side of your hips to cage you in as he devours you. You kiss him back just as hard, fingers twisting in his shirt, then you pull back just enough to whisper against his mouth, breath trembling.
“Fuck… Lovino… Take it then… take me…”
His eyes flash dark and dangerous the second the words leave your lips. The kiss turns feral, his tongue fucking into your mouth until you’re both panting and he finally lets you sink down.
You drop to your knees right there on the cool kitchen tiles, eyes locked on his. His cock is right in front of your face now, thick, veined, flushed deep red at the head, precum beading steadily at the slit. You wrap one hand around the base, stroking him torturously from root to tip, thumb swirling over the leaking head on every upstroke. His hips jerk forward on instinct.
“Cazzo… porca troia… Bella, please—” he curses in that broken Italian rasp, voice cracking as you twist your wrist just right on the upstroke.
You look up at him through your lashes, all sweet innocence and wicked teasing. “Hm? The big bad mafia don wants more? The man who makes everyone else beg… now he’s the one begging his wife?”
That’s the last straw.
Lovino’s patience snaps like a tripwire. His hand shoots into your hair, fingers twisting tight at the roots, and he yanks your head forward with zero warning. “Fuck, I’m trying to be patient with you, tesoro,” he growls, voice low and mean now, that dangerous edge creeping back in, “but you’re making it so goddamn hard. It’s like you’re testing me on purpose. You want me to be mean with you, don’t you? Want your husband to stop playing nice and just use that pretty mouth like the little tease you are.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He drags your face forward and forces the thick head of his cock past your lips in one rough thrust, stretching your jaw wide. The taste of him, salty and musky, floods your tongue instantly. He drags you all the way down until your nose is buried against his pelvis, cock sliding straight into the back of your throat.
You choke hard, eyes watering instantly, tears spilling down your cheeks as drool starts to leak from the corners of your stretched lips. He holds you there for a long second, groaning deep in his chest at the feel of your throat convulsing around him.
Then he starts moving.
He uses your hair like a handle, yanking your head back until just the swollen head rests on your tongue, then slamming you forward again. Over and over, fucking your face in long, brutal strokes from tip to hilt. Every thrust punches into your throat with wet, obscene sounds. Your gagging and choking mix with the filthy slap of his balls against your chin. Drool pours down your chin in thick strings, dripping onto your tank top and the floor between your knees. Tears stream freely now, mascara probably running, but you keep your eyes wide open and locked on his, giving him that innocent, teary-eyed look that always destroys him.
“Shit—look at you,” he snarls, voice wrecked and filthy as he watches your throat bulge with every deep thrust. He drags you off just long enough for you to suck in a gasping breath before he shoves back into the root again. “You can take it, I know you can. God, you look so fucking beautiful like this—crying and drooling all over my cock like a good little wife. Choking on the same dick that’s gonna knock you up tonight. That’s it, amore, relax your throat—let me use you. Let me fuck this pretty face until it’s ruined.”
He keeps the brutal rhythm, hips snapping, fingers tight in your hair, never once letting you pull away more than a few inches. Your throat burns, your jaw aches, drool and tears coat everything, but you keep looking up at him with those big, innocent eyes even as you gag and sputter around his pistoning cock.
Lovino is losing his mind above you, cursing in rapid Italian between every thrust, the scary don completely gone, replaced by a man who’s finally, finally done holding back.
He lasts only a few more brutal thrusts before his control shatters completely.
“Cazzo—merda—sì, così, brava ragazza… take it all, take every fucking inch down that pretty throat—” The Italian pours out of him in a broken, filthy groan, praises and curses tumbling together as his hips stutter. “Sei perfetta… mia moglie perfetta… fuck, I’m cumming—swallow it, tesoro, swallow every drop like the good little breeding slut you are—”
He slams into the root one last time, burying himself as deep as your throat will allow, and comes with a guttural, animalistic groan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flood straight down your throat, pulse after heavy pulse. You choke hard around him as you struggle to swallow it all. Some of it spills from the corners of lips anyway, mixing with the drool already coating your chin. Fresh tears spill down your face from the intensity, your eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you fight to breathe through your nose and take everything he gives you.
Lovino holds you there until the last twitch of his cock. Only then does he slowly pull out, a thick string of cum and saliva connecting your swollen lips to the head of his cock before it breaks.
He tucks himself away and zips up his pants with deliberate calm, then reaches down and gently pats your tear-streaked cheek, thumb brushing away some of the mess.
“Aren’t you just the perfect little wife?” he murmurs, voice still rough with satisfaction, green eyes soft again. “Taking it all like you’re supposed to. Every last drop. Such a good girl for me.”
You’re still catching your breath. All you can do is nod weakly, lips parted and shiny, tears still clinging to your lashes. The taste of him lingers heavy on your tongue.
Lovino smiles then leans down to help you up, strong hands steadying your shaky legs. “We’re not done, bella.”
He takes your hand and leads you out of the kitchen, through the wide glass doors that open directly onto the private garden just outside. The night air is warm and fragrant with blooming jasmine and roses, the moon casting silver light over the manicured hedges, the fountain bubbling softly in the center, and the lush grass that stretches toward the tall privacy walls. Twinkling string lights are woven through the trellises, giving everything a soft, romantic glow that feels almost too beautiful for what he clearly has planned.
You hesitate at the threshold, still flushed and messy from what just happened in the kitchen, your shorts damp between your thighs. “What if someone sees?” you whisper, glancing back toward the house where staff quarters sit not too far away.
Lovino stops, turns to you, and pulls you close against his chest, one hand sliding possessively down to squeeze your ass. His lips brush your ear, voice low and wicked with that sensual rasp.
“Good.” He nips at your earlobe. “Let them see. Let every single person in this house know exactly who you belong to. Let them hear how loudly their don is going to fuck his wife tonight—how many times I’m going to fill this pussy until you’re dripping with my cum and carrying my baby. I want the whole fucking world to know you’re mine… and that I’m finally giving you what you’ve been wanting.”
He doesn’t wait for another protest. He guides you deeper into the garden, the night air kissing your overheated skin.
He guides you straight to your special garden nook, the one tucked away beneath a wooden canopy draped with cascading wisteria vines. Heavy purple blooms hang like curtains overhead, their delicate fragrance mixing with the earthy scent of the garden. The built-in wooden bench is massive, wide enough to function as a small daybed, covered in thick, plush cushions and scattered with an abundance of soft pillows. This is usually your private sanctuary, a quiet place to curl up with a book, sip wine, and escape the chaos of the villa. Tonight, though, it’s about to become something far more sinful.
Lovino doesn’t speak as he gently but firmly guides you down onto the cushions. The second your back hits the plush surface, he’s on you.
He climbs over you, knees bracketing your hips, and crashes his mouth against yours in a dirty, messy, all-consuming kiss. There’s nothing gentle about it this time. His tongue immediately pushes past your lips. You moan into the kiss as he devours you. His hands roam greedily, one cups the back of your head to tilt you exactly how he wants you, the other sliding down your body to squeeze your breast through your tank top, thumb roughly circling your nipple until it pebbles under his touch.
The kiss is sloppy and loud. He sucks on your tongue, then bites your lower lip hard enough to make you whimper before soothing it with another deep swipe of his tongue. Drool escapes the corner of your mouth as he fucks his tongue in and out in a lewd imitation of what’s coming, grinding his already-hardening cock against your clothed pussy through your shorts.
“Fuck, you taste like me,” he growls against your lips between kisses, voice rough and thick with Italian accent. “My perfect little wife, still dripping with my cum from that pretty throat. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to ruin you right here in your quiet little reading spot.”
He kisses you harder, messier, tilting his head to go even deeper. His hand slips under your tank top, palming your bare breast and pinching your nipple until you arch up into him with a needy whine. The other hand slides down to cup you between your legs again, rubbing firm circles over your shorts right where you’re soaked and aching. Every stroke of his tongue is dirty and purposeful, like he’s trying to lick every trace of himself from your mouth while simultaneously reminding you who you belong to.
You’re both panting when he finally pulls back just enough to look at you. He doesn’t let the moment turn sweet. Instead, he leans back in for another filthy kiss, sucking on your tongue while his fingers push your shorts and panties aside just enough to drag two thick digits through your slick folds.
You’re both breathing hard on the plush cushions. Lovino pulls back from the filthy makeout just enough to hover above you, green eyes blazing with raw need. Without a word, you sit up slightly and peel your tank top off over your head, letting your breasts spill free into the cool air. Your nipples are already tight from his earlier rough touches.
He watches hungrily as you toss the fabric aside, then hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and panties. In one swift tug he drags them down your legs and off, leaving you completely bare beneath him on the cushioned bench. The night air kisses your soaked pussy, making you shiver.
Lovino doesn’t waste time. He yanks his shirt open, buttons flying in his haste, and shrugs it off his broad shoulders, revealing the hard planes of muscle, the faint scars from old fights, and the dark trail of hair leading down his abdomen. Then he shoves his pants and boxers down in one desperate motion, kicking them away. His cock springs free again, still massive, thick, and flushed dark, the head glistening with a fresh bead of precum that drips slowly down the veined shaft. It twitches visibly under your gaze, already fully hard and ready like the first round in the kitchen never happened.
You feel heat flood your cheeks as you stare, biting your lip. “You’re hard again so quickly…”
Lovino leans down, bracing one hand beside your head, and gives you that slow, dangerous smirk that only ever appears for you. “For you? Always, tesoro. This cock has been aching for you for weeks. Nothing else gets it like this.”
He settles between your spread thighs, one hand gripping the base of his heavy cock while the other strokes your inner thigh soothingly. You lay back fully against the pillows, heart hammering as you both watch him guide the swollen head to your drenched entrance. Your pussy is slick and puffy from everything that’s happened tonight.
He presses forward slowly.
The thick head parts your folds with a wet, obscene sound, stretching you open as he sinks inch by inch. You both watch the sight. His veined cock disappearing into your glistening pussy, your lips stretching tight around his girth. Lovino groans deep in his chest, the sound low and filthy as he listens to the slick, squelching noises your drenched cunt makes with every slow push. “Cazzo… so fucking wet for me,” he mutters, voice strained with restraint. “Listen to that sloppy pussy sucking me in.”
You moan softly as he bottoms out, every thick inch buried to the hilt inside you. The stretch is perfect bordering on too much in the most delicious way. His heavy balls rest against your ass, and you can feel his cock pulsing inside your walls.
He stays there for a long moment, savoring it, then slowly drags back out,almost all the way, until just the head remains inside before sliding back in with the same torturously slow pace. The wet sounds are even louder now: a lewd, squelching schlick every time he moves, your arousal coating his shaft and dripping down to soak the cushions beneath you.
“Hear that?” he rasps, green eyes locked on where your bodies are joined. His voice is rough, accent thick. “That’s your greedy little pussy welcoming me home. Soaking wet and loud for your husband. Fuck, it sounds so dirty… like you’ve been empty for far too long and now you’re finally getting filled the way you deserve.”
You nod, biting your lip hard as incredible pleasure washes over you with every slow thrust. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite. Your hips twitch, wanting more, faster, harder, but for now the slow, deliberate pace has you trembling and whimpering beneath him, hands clutching at his shoulders.
Lovino groans again, leaning down to press his forehead to yours as he continues the slow, deep rocking. “That’s it, bella… feel every inch. I’m going to take my time tonight. I’m going to fuck you so full you’ll be dripping my cum for days. But right now… just listen to how wet you are for me.”
The slow, deliberate rhythm falters for a heartbeat. Lovino’s hips still, buried to the hilt inside you, his cock throbbing against your fluttering walls. Then he pulls back until the thick head of his cock slips free with a wet, obscene pop. A rush of cool night air kisses your stretched, glistening entrance, and you clench around nothing, a fresh trickle of your slick sliding down to soak the plush cushion beneath you. His shaft is completely coated, shiny and dripping with your arousal, a thick strand of it still connecting the flushed head to your swollen folds. Lovino watches it all with dark, hungry eyes, jaw tight, chest heaving as he listens to the lewd squelch of your soaked pussy protesting the emptiness.
He doesn’t make you wait long.
With the same agonizing control, he presses the broad head back against your entrance and pushes forward, inch by thick inch. You both stare down between your bodies, mesmerized, as your pussy lips stretch wide around his girth, swallowing him whole once more. The wet, filthy sound of your drenched cunt taking him back in fills the quiet garden, utterly shameless.
“Lovino, please…” The words tumble out of you in a desperate, breathy moan, your voice cracking with need. Your hips twitch upward, trying to chase more, faster, deeper. “I want you to give it to me…”
He leans over you immediately, one strong hand sliding up to cradle your face with surprising tenderness. His thumb strokes your cheekbone, brushing away a stray tear of overwhelming pleasure. His green eyes soften even as his cock twitches deep inside you, and when he speaks, his voice is low, rough, and achingly gentle.
“I know, Tesoro,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to the corner of your mouth. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”
The tenderness in his tone makes something inside you melt even as your body burns. A high, needy whine escapes your throat as he sinks all the way back in and stays there, grinding slow, deep circles that make the head of his cock drag perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you. Your walls flutter and squeeze around him, and he groans quietly, forehead still resting against yours.
“Brava ragazza… so good for me,” he whispers, the praise warm and filthy at the same time. “Listen to how wet you are. Feel how your pretty pussy is sucking me in like it never wants to let go.”
His free hand slides down between your bodies, thumb finding your swollen clit and circling it in slow, deliberate strokes that match the lazy grind of his hips. Every movement is designed to drive you insane with pleasure without letting you tip over the edge just yet. The wet sounds grow louder as he works you, your slick coating his fingers, his cock, the insides of your thighs. Your legs tremble where they’re wrapped around his waist, toes curling against the small of his back.
You whine again, louder this time, the sound breaking into a soft sob of overwhelming sensation. It feels too good, the gentle but relentless pressure on your clit, the way his body covers yours protectively even as he’s buried inside you. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle there, and you arch beneath him, chasing every bit of friction he’s giving.
Lovino’s breath hitches at the sound of your whine. He kisses you again, tongue sliding against yours in a lazy, sensual rhythm that mirrors the way he’s fucking you. When he pulls back just enough to speak, his voice has dropped even lower, thick with restrained hunger.
“You want more, bella? Want me to fuck you harder? Fill this greedy little pussy until you’re dripping with me?” He punctuates the question with a slightly sharper thrust. “Tell me, Tesoro. I’ll give you anything. Everything. Just say the word and I’ll ruin you so sweetly right here under these vines.”
Your answer comes out as another broken whine, hips rolling up to meet him, your body speaking for you. The ache between your legs is turning molten, the slow build coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Lovino’s eyes darken with pure devotion and lust as he watches you come undone beneath him.
He starts to move with more purpose. Each thrust pushes a fresh gush of slick out around his cock, and he groans at the sight and sound of it, at the way your body welcomes him home again and again.
“That’s it… let me hear you,” he rasps, voice cracking with how good you feel around him. “My beautiful wife. My good girl. Gonna take such good care of you… gonna breed you so full tonight.”
The words send a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. You whine his name again, louder, and Lovino rewards you by picking up the pace just a little more. The bench creaks softly beneath you both. The wisteria blooms tremble overhead. And you’re lost in the tender dominance in his voice, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in his world even while he’s fucking you like he owns every inch of your body.
Your pleasure is cresting fast now, the slow, deep rhythm and his thumb on your clit combining into something devastating. You can feel it building and the only sound you can make is that same desperate, overwhelmed whine as your walls start to flutter harder around him.
Lovino feels it too. His free hand grips your hip tighter, holding you steady as he fucks you through it, voice dropping into a rough, loving growl.
“That’s my girl. Cum for me, Tesoro. I’ve got you. Let go.”
And with one more perfect grind of his hips and a firm stroke of his thumb, you do. Shattering around him with a broken cry, your pussy clenching and pulsing in rhythmic waves, gushing fresh wetness around his cock as the orgasm crashes through you. Your vision whites out for a second, body shaking, nails raking down his back as you sob his name into the warm night air.
Lovino groans like he’s in pain and paradise at the same time, burying himself as deep as he can, letting you ride out every aftershock while he murmurs soft Italian praises against your temple, “Brava… sei perfetta… mia moglie perfetta…” his cock twitching inside your spasming heat.
The garden spins gently around you both, the wisteria canopy above, the stars beyond, and Lovino’s strong body sheltering yours as you come down from the high, his lips brushing tender kisses across your damp cheeks while you tremble and whine softly in the afterglow.
Lovino keeps rocking his hips in those deep, grinding circles, his cock still buried to the hilt inside your fluttering, oversensitive pussy. Every slow drag sends little aftershocks sparking through your core, and you’re so wet now that the sounds between you are downright filthy.
“Brava… brava ragazza,” he murmurs against your temple, voice rough but still so tender it makes your chest ache. “You came so beautifully for me, Tesoro. So tight around my cock… squeezing me like you never want to let go. Fuck, you feel so good. So warm. So perfect. My perfect wife… taking everything I give you.”
Your face burns with a sudden wave of shyness at the intensity of it all, the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s still moving inside you, the raw devotion in every word. Without thinking, you lift your hands and cover your face, fingers splaying over your flushed cheeks as a soft, embarrassed whine slips out.
Lovino notices immediately. He slows just enough to reach up, gently but firmly taking your wrists in his hands and pulling them away from your face. He brings your palms to his mouth one after the other, pressing slow, reverent kisses to the center of each one, his lips warm and soft against your skin.
“Don’t hide your face,” he whispers, green eyes locked on yours with that devastating mix of hunger and tenderness. “I want to see every part of you. Especially when you’re like this… all flushed and trembling and mine.”
He keeps your hands in his, fingers laced together as he starts thrusting again deeper now, the pace slowly building. His hips snap forward with more urgency, the wet slap of skin against skin growing louder under the wisteria canopy. The bench creaks softly beneath you both. Every thrust pushes a fresh rush of your slick out around his cock, and he groans at the sight of it, at the way your pussy greedily swallows him back in every time.
“Tesoro… cazzo, you’re so wet,” he rasps, voice cracking as his control starts to fray. The praises spill out faster now, more desperate, more frantic as he chases his release. “Taking me so well… so fucking deep. This pussy was made for me. Gonna put a baby in you right here under these stars. Fuck—listen to you. Listen to how messy you are for me.”
His thrusts turn frantic, hips pistoning harder, faster, the head of his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you with punishing precision. Sweat beads on his forehead, dark hair falling into his eyes as he stares down at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. His hands tighten around yours, pinning them gently beside your head as he fucks into you with raw, unrestrained need.
“Mine,” he growls, the word breaking on a moan. “My wife. My good girl. Taking every inch like you were born for it. I’m close—fuck, I’m so close. You feel too good. Too perfect. Can’t hold back—”
His rhythm stutters, hips jerking erratically as he slams in deep one final time and stays there, buried to the hilt. A guttural, broken groan tears from his throat as he starts to cum. You feel it instantly, the hot, thick pulses of his release flooding your insides in heavy spurts, each one accompanied by another rough thrust as he works himself through it.
“Take it,” he groans against your neck, voice wrecked and desperate. “Take all of it, Tesoro. All of my cum. Every drop. I want it all inside you… deep inside this perfect pussy. Don’t waste a single bit. Let me fill you up…make you mine in every way.”
His cock twitches and pulses inside you as he empties himself completely, hot ropes of cum painting your walls, overflowing around his shaft and dripping down to soak the cushions beneath you. He keeps grinding through the aftershocks, pushing it deeper, refusing to pull out even as his breathing turns ragged and his body trembles above yours.
When the last spurt finally leaves him, Lovino collapses forward onto his forearms, careful not to crush you, his forehead pressed to yours. His chest heaves against your breasts. He’s still buried deep inside you, his softening cock keeping his cum plugged in as much as possible. One of his hands releases yours so he can stroke your hair back from your damp forehead, his touch achingly gentle now.
“Sei perfetta,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses to your eyelids, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth. “My perfect wife. Look at you… taking all of me like that. So full of my cum. Fuck, I love you. I love you so much.”
He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he shifts just enough to roll onto his side, pulling you with him so you’re tucked against his chest on the wide bench. One strong arm wraps around your waist, keeping you close, while his other hand strokes slow, soothing circles over your back. His cock stays nestled inside you, warm and spent, and every little shift makes more of his release leak out around him in a filthy, intimate reminder of what just happened.
The night air is cool against your overheated skin, but Lovino’s body is like a furnace around you. The wisteria vines sway gently overhead, purple blooms perfuming the air, while the distant fountain continues its soft music. He nuzzles into your hair, pressing kisses there between murmured words.
His hand slides down to rest possessively over your lower belly, thumb stroking the soft skin there like he’s already imagining it round and full. He kisses your temple again, softer this time, and lets out a quiet, contented sigh.
“Rest for a minute if you need it, Tesoro,” he whispers. “But I’m staying inside you. And when you’re ready… I’m going to fuck you again. Slower this time. Or harder. Whatever you want. Just say the word and it’s yours.”
His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin as he holds you close, the garden quiet and private around you both, the only sounds your mingled breathing and the occasional soft drip of his cum leaking from where you’re still joined. He’s not in any rush to move. Not when he has you exactly where he wants you, safe in his arms, thoroughly claimed, and already starting to stir again beneath him.
