Cliterature On The Go

Toji Fushiguro—your husband who came home angry

Context: Toji came back with an angry mess, but he took it out on you.

Content: breed!ng, r0ugh s3x, 0ral (f receiving), CEO toji

WC:745

toji’s rich in this storyline and no megumi yet, so holy mischaracterization 👉👈🥺

and also, i’m still practicing smut!

His Junior Is Angry Too !

Toji just got home from work—his blood still boiling from earlier. He was already drowned in useless paperwork, and that dumb employee added more. Well, it wasn't their fault for adding more, but they were still the one who added another pile. He was seething. Though, he wasn't the only thing that was seething.

You were making dinner for the two of you when you felt hands on your waist. Kisses on your nape. Bites on your shoulders. You turned around and saw him, chuckling lightly at his distressed face as you tiptoed and kissed him on the cheek.

You turned back to stir whatever you were stirring, as Toji dropped to his knees behind you. His hands were already on your ass, squeezing a good handful of them. He pressed his nose in between your clothed cheeks, practically breathing you in.

“Toji, r-right now…?” You protested, “I’m still cooking…” But it seemed like it fell on deaf ears. He pulled your shorts down along with your panties, your already soaked heat greeting his eyes. So soaked that a string of slick connected your hole to your panties.

He immediately buried his face in your cunt, darting out his tongue to taste your juice. He groaned when he finally tasted your sweetness after his tiresome day; the vibrations of his moan made you shudder. “T-tojii—!” Your voice got cut off and replaced by a moan when he glided his tongue from top to bottom. “Taste so good, ma…” He pulled back just to say that, as you whined from the sudden loss of contact. “D-don’t stop…!”

He put his tongue back on your cunt when he heard your whine, lapping at your cunt greedily. The sound of your wetness on his tongue was very loud. You felt a spring in your stomach tighten, ready to burst, but then suddenly he pulled away.

“H-huh…? W-why’d you stop…? I was so close…” You arched your back, seeking his heat again, as he stood up. He pressed his already aching length on your twitching hole, kissing your shoulder to your neck. You mewled when you felt how big it was. “My dick wants your attention now, ma…” He said between kisses, freeing his angry, leaking dick. It sprang free to his abs, precum ruining his perfect white polo.

He slapped your drenched cunt with his leaking cock, before he slowly put the mushroom tip in. Your warm, gummy walls were already gripping him so tight, it felt like his cock would be cut off if you clenched down tighter. You moaned as his tip forced its way inside your welcoming heat, your slick acting like a lube. The stretch burned so bad at first; no matter how many times you had already taken him, it always felt like it was your first.

“So tight, ma… ’s like your pussy’s made to take my cock.” He roughly said, before slamming all the way in. His tip kissed your cervix, as he pulled out until only his tip remained and slammed back in. You sobbed as you felt his thick cock stretching you and filling you up. He set a ruthless pace; the sound of skin slapping skin and the squelches were filling up the room along with your moans and Toji’s groans. The smell was a mix of sex, sweat, and the food that was burning, but it seemed like the two of you were too distracted.

He fucked you so rough, rougher than usual, like he was taking his anger out on you. Which he was. But you couldn't complain, because he was fucking you way too good.

His hand reached for one of your clothed breasts, harshly groping it as he left marks all over you. He pounded into you deeper and deeper, until you were practically stuck between him and the counter. A low growl unraveled from him as he felt you clenching down; he knew you were close. So close.

“T-toji, c-calm down…!” You cried out, but one of his hands came up to your mouth and covered it. He was brutally abusing your pussy, and he knew damn well that he was too rough tonight.

“G-gonna breed you, ma… I’m gonna give you my babies…!”

Then, with one last thrust, your pussy clamped down on his cock so hard, milking him for all he was worth. “Fuck…!” He groaned, as he shot every drop inside along with deep thrusts, making sure it took.

“Mine.”

Thanks for letting me waste your time, reader!

SIMON GHOST RILEY—as your lieutenant that noticed you.

Context: Your lieutenant that developed feelings for you, but he was a little too late.

Content: Vi0lence, Bl00d, kinda self-h@rm behaviors, angst

WC: 806

this is my first time writing someone with autism, i hope i pulled it off!

To My Dear Cold Dissector.

You joined the military thinking it would be different. You hoped people here would be “mature” enough to look past the surface. But you were wrong.

Having autism had always landed you in bad situations—at school, at home, everywhere. They mocked the way you shifted in place, your bluntness, and the way you missed every punchline. They watched you separate every ingredient on your plate and gave you a name: Miss Cold Dissector.

Every time they used it, you felt your insides vibrate with agony. But you didn’t cry, so they kept going. To them, the name was a joke; to you, it was a cage. And since no one ever bothered to look through the bars, you stayed stuck inside yourself.

The memory of the name was still echoing when the reality of the parade deck slammed back into focus. You were training. The Drill Sergeant yelled, “Platoon, Attention!”

The Sergeant’s voice made your skin crawl. To stop the crawling, you had to move. While sixty others stood like stone, your body began a rhythmic sway. You knew he was watching, but staying perfectly still felt like suffocating.

He snapped to you like a predator. “Did I tell you to move, rookie?” He stepped into your space, forcing eye contact you physically couldn't give. You focused on a brass button on his collar instead.

“I am not participating in your stupid games,” he hissed. But you couldn’t stop. Your body kept swaying.

Fed up, he pointed to the edge of the barracks. “Face the wall. Nose one inch from the paint. You stay there until you learn how to be a statue.”

You stood there like a human paradox. You tried to stop swaying, so you started scratching your forearms instead. Nails dragged through skin—at least you weren't swaying, right?

Then, heavier boots approached. Even the Sergeant went quiet. “Good morning, Sir!” he barked, saluting.

“At ease.” The voice was deep and gravelly. It was Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. You didn't look back; you just kept scratching your arms until they stung.

“Sergeant. Explain why that woman is in the corner,” Ghost asked coldly. His eyes felt like they were piercing through the back of your head.

“She couldn’t keep still, Sir,” the Sergeant strained.

Footsteps approached you. Your body went tense. Simon looked you up and down, his presence overwhelming. Your scratching became erratic, leaving red marks. He raised an eyebrow, watching the silent distress he didn’t yet understand.

“The fuck’s happening to you?” he asked. He placed a hand on your shoulder. The weight of his glove was grounding, solid. Your heart rate slowed. He sighed, pulling his hand away.

lPathetic,” he said before leaving. But the word lacked his usual bite. You’d heard "pathetic" from everyone else, but from him, it sounded… different.

Weeks later, things changed. He grew softer, more mindful, especially after he learned why you were the way you were. One day, he suddenly approached you and held something out—a pair of Ops-Core AMPs.

“Saw these in supply. Thought they might be useful,” he rumbled. He didn't wait for a thank you. He just turned and left. You looked down at the tactical tan finish and finally, truly smiled. Ghost paused at the end of the hall, catching that rare look on your face before he disappeared.

Then came the mission. Your first one. The thoughts ate you alive: What if I fail? What if I'm a disappointment?

The mission was a success. The team was heading for the extraction bird. But then… the world ceased to exist.

The flashbang was a hammer of white light. The high-pitched screech in your ears was a physical weight, pressing against your skull until you couldn't breathe.

You dropped to your knees, fumbling blindly for your only anchor. Your fingers curled around the rugged frame of the Ops-Core AMPs. You didn't put them on; you just pulled them to your chest, hugging the plastic and foam like a child’s blanket. You thought they could shield you from the chaos.

Through the white haze, you heard a roar. A deep, distorted sound. Ghost.

Blood splattered against Ghost’s balaclava. His body went cold as he watched you fall. You laid there, a dark puddle forming around your small frame. Ghost didn't care about the sniper or the gunfire. He moved toward you, every step feeling like he was walking through lead.

He dropped to his knees, his hands stained red as he pulled your lifeless body into his lap. You were supposed to be alive. He was going to ask you out tonight. He was going to tell you that he liked the way you “dissected” the world.

He didn’t die that day, but as he clutched the blood-stained headphones you were still hugging, the part of him that felt human died right there with you.

Thanks for letting me waste your time, reader!

SIMON GHOST RILEY—your husband who’s often working, so he gave you something you can use when he’s away.

Context: Simon spoils you rotten for your birthday, giving you everything you wanted and more. But his 'special gift' turns out to be something you can use whenever he's away at work. And of course, being the good wife you are, you sent him a little thank you video... which definitely drove him crazy in his office.

Content: Simon is a bit gentler in this story, CEO Riley, m+f masturb@t!ons, office masturb@t!on, exchanging picture and video, vibr@tor

WC: 833

YOU’RE ALWAYS WELCOME, MY WIFE

Just a few days ago, you celebrated your birthday at home. It wasn’t extravagant, just an intimate moment between you, your Simon, family, and close friends.

He already gave you his present—a handwritten letter along with the necklace you’ve been eyeing and saving up for.

As everyone left, you and Simon started cleaning up. He was in the living room while you were in the kitchen. After a moment, he approached you and placed his hands firmly on your hips.

He kissed your nape, whispering lowly, “I have another gift for you, lovely.”

You placed the plate down and looked up at him. “You already gave me such an expensive gift, hon. Why bother with another?” you said softly.

He chuckled. “Shush. I love spoiling my woman, and you can’t do anything about it.”

As soon as you finished the dishes, Simon practically pulled you upstairs into your shared bedroom. He guided you to sit on the bed while he retrieved the second gift from the closet.

He sat beside you, placing the box on your lap. “Open it. It’s something you’ll be using when I’m away.” His voice was low and soft, a playful smile on his lips.

You unwrapped it carefully, noticing the strange shape inside before pulling it out. A Je Joue Hera Flex Rabbit Vibrator. A freaking vibrator.

You looked at him in disbelief, one eyebrow raised as if asking, “Is this a joke?”

He just let out a huff of laughter, feigning innocence. “What? It’ll be useful when I’m at work, baby.” He shrugged like he was just talking about the weather.

——

A few days later, he was back at the company, leaving you alone in the mansion. But at least you have a vibrator now.

You were wearing his hoodie, staring at the sealed toy. It felt like it was tempting you to use it. With nothing holding you back, you opened it and stared at it for a moment.

It was pretty big, but still smaller than Simon’s actual cock. But it would definitely fill that emptiness you felt when he was gone. Your pussy was already getting soaked just thinking about how he would use it on you.

Now, you were leaning back against the headboard as the vibrator filled your twitching heat. It buzzed just the way you liked it, making you arch your back as it hit that perfect spot.

But right before you reached your peak, you decided to send Simon an update. You set your phone on the footboard, the red dot blinking as it started recording.

You teased yourself again, hovering the toy over your drenched cunt as your hips jerked up desperately, begging for more. You finally pressed it back inside, spreading your legs even wider as pleasure washed over you.

“N-nghh…! It feels so good…” you whimpered, turning the vibrations higher.

The room was filled with the hum of the toy and your soft moans. You cranked the setting up even more, pushing yourself straight over the edge. Your legs shook violently as your release soaked the fresh sheets.

After catching your breath, you edited the video, cutting out the parts where you set up the camera and rested afterwards. You sent it to him with a message:

“Thanks for your gift, hubby. 🥰”

——

Simon was alone in his office, drowning in paperwork, until his phone pinged. Your notification sound was unique, and different from the others so he knew instantly it was you. He opened the message immediately.

But when he saw the video, his jaw tightened. His mouth went dry watching you use his gift, seeing how it seemed to satisfy you completely.

He could feel his trousers getting tighter, his cock aching to be freed. All he could think about was burying himself deep inside you, filling you up, breeding you.

He watched it over and over again, his hand trailing down his stomach and slipping past the waistband of his pants. He matched your pace, imagining it was your warm pussy hugging him instead of his own hand. It wasn't nearly as tight as you, but it would have to do.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his fist pumping his length firmly. His thumb swiped over the sensitive head, spreading the precum that leaked out.

He could feel his release building up fast, his hips bucking up into his fist as he lost control. He stroked faster, harder, rubbing the tip relentlessly. A sharp hiss escaped his lips as he finally came, warm white ropes spilling all over his hand and abs. But he didn’t stop; he kept milking himself until every last drop was gone.

He threw his head back, eyes closing as he rode out his high. He sighed, then chuckled lowly at the mess he made. He grabbed his phone and snapped a picture—capturing his softening cock resting against his stomach, his hand and abs glistening with his release.

He sent the picture to his only woman, you.

“You’re always welcome, my wife.”

thanks for letting me waste your time, reader!

SIMON GHOST RILEY—as your cold husband who you had a misunderstanding with

Context: Simon is your cold husband, but things took a turn when he wrongly accused you of cheating and hurt you. Now you're seeking comfort in Soap, making Simon even more furious and possessive.

Content: Angst, usage of “s!ut,” accusations of cheating, toxic, gaslighting, sl@pping, & verbal abuse

WC: 1568

MISUNDERSTANDING AND ACCUSATIONS

Simon is your cold husband, sure, he loves you in his own way. He is withdrawn and quiet but he loves you. That’s what you think, though. But what was sure was you helped him through his trauma and he has found comfort in you as a result, which made you confident he won’t do anything hurtful. But that’s where you were wrong.

You two were invited to an event, wherein you were really excited to go. Especially since Simon is coming too, you picked your best dress, found some makeup inspo, and decided what to do with your hair. Then when the day came, everything came crashing down. At first it was going well, your hair and dress turned out okay. But when you were about to put your makeup on while sitting at your vanity table, he barged inside your shared room.

“The fuck is this?” He said sternly, his body towering over yours. He held up a random piece of clothing that wasn’t his, but it wasn’t yours either. You didn’t know who owned it, but it seemed like it belonged to a guy. Simon was furious and full of doubt now, why the heck would a guy’s stuff be there? “You cheating on me now, you slut?” He accused you immediately, but you shook your head. You stood up from the chair to protest. “I don’t know, love. Isn’t it yours…?” You masked your hurt from him, because maybe he didn’t mean to call you that.

After getting called names by him, and even getting slapped by him, you two realized you were running late to the event.

Now, you were doing your makeup in the car when he suddenly took an unnecessary turn, making your eyeliner ruined. “W-what was that for, love?” You asked softly, not wanting to anger him further. Because you just experienced what he could do to you without any mercy earlier.

Your soft-spoken voice only irritated him further as he took another rough turn, causing the contents of your makeup bag to spill onto the floor of the car.

“That was for acting like a bloody child,” he spat, his anger evident in his voice, “You should've been ready before we left. But no, you had to take your sweet time, acting like a damn teenager. Now look at the mess you made.”

You were already overwhelmed because you didn’t have enough time getting ready earlier, due to the fact that he started an argument earlier. But now you were even more overwhelmed, but you couldn’t show it. You didn’t want to make him snap. “S-sorry…” Is all you could mutter, before you picked up your spilled makeup. Then you got a makeup wipe to clean up your messed up eyeliner.

Simon let out an exasperated sigh, his grip on the steering wheel tightening, "Sorry doesn't cut it this time, luv. You knew we had somewhere to be and you didn't think to get ready on time. Now we're late. And all you can say is 'sorry'?"

He slammed on the gas pedal, making another sharp turn, which only caused you to drop even more of your makeup in the process. "Damn it," he muttered to himself, "Can't you do anything right?"

Your shoulders sunk slightly as you tried your best to hold back your tears, but a few escaped, trailing down your cheeks as you cleaned your ruined makeup. The hurt from his sharp words, combined with the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy, weighed heavily on your heart.

"I'm trying my best," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm sorry I'm not perfect."

His anger only seemed to increase as he saw your tears rolling down your cheeks, but he didn't care at the moment.

"And now you're crying," he scoffed, his voice laced with mockery. "You can't handle a little yelling, can you? Are you seriously going to cry like a damn child every time I'm upset at you?"

He let out an exasperated sigh before taking another harsh turn, causing the car to jerk, and some of the contents of your makeup bag to spill yet again.

"You can't even keep your makeup bag organized. It's like you're not even trying."

He shook his head in disappointment, his jaw clenched as he took another sharp turn, causing the car to jerk again.

"I can't believe I married such an incompetent woman," he muttered under his breath, "Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake."

That was the worst thing he could’ve ever said, but you had no choice but to accept it. You just decided to wipe your face, removing all the makeup. And focused on picking up the makeup products. Then as you guys arrived, you mustered up a fake smile though your eyes were a bit red and puffy.

As he parked the car, he noticed your attempt to compose yourself, your fake smile plastered on your face, but the redness in your eyes gave away your true emotions. He scoffed inwardly, unphased by your facade.

"Of course you would put on a show for everyone when we get there," he muttered, annoyance in his voice. "Can't stand the thought of people knowing how much of a failure you are.

He got out of the car, slamming the door shut before waiting for you to join him.

You tried your best to hold back your tears as you walked behind him, his biting words cut deep, but you knew better than to cry or show any emotion.

As you reached the venue, he stopped walking for a moment, turning to you with a stern expression on his face.

"Now, when we're inside, you better act like the perfect wife, got it? I don't need you embarrassing me any more than you already have."

You didn’t speak up, your head was down. Because as soon as you looked up, you knew you would tear up. Soap was there, as he greeted the two of you and excused you to talk about ‘something important’.

Soap approached the two of you, noticing your downcast expression and the redness in your eyes. Sensing that something was off, he quickly made an excuse to talk to you alone and took you aside, leaving Simon standing by the entrance.

Once you were out of earshot, Soap's expression turned concerned as he looked at you. "What happened, lass?" he asked gently, noticing the tension between you and Simon.

As soon as he asked that question, you broke down in front of him. You then explained while Soap listened, his arm on your shoulders.

Soap wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer into a protective embrace. He held you gently, your head resting against his chest.

"You're okay," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "You didn't do anything wrong. Simon was out of line."

He continued to rub your back, offering the comfort you needed with a sense of understanding and care.

Soap knew that he was skating on thin ice, comforting you like this when you were married to someone else, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. Seeing you hurting and seeking comfort from him stirred something in his heart.

"You're strong, lass," he whispered, his voice rough yet tender. "Don't let his words get to you. You are worthy and valued, no matter what he says."

He continued to hold you close, the two of you wrapped in a bittersweet moment of comfort and connection. In that moment, it didn’t matter that you were married to someone else, or that he was risking crossing boundaries. All that mattered was that you needed someone to lean on, and he was there to provide that refuge.

“I-i’m sorry, this is wrong…” Soap's grip on you tightened slightly as you apologized. He knew that what was happening between the two of you teetered on the edge of what was appropriate.

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. "You've got nothing to apologize for."

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of concern and something deeper. "You needed comfort, and I won't judge you for that."

Simon's sharp eyes caught the brief moment of contact—your fingers on Soap’s sleeve, his grip lingering on your shoulders. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Johnny," he said coolly, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd like a blade. "Step back."

The unspoken command hung heavy between them: Now.

Soap recognized Simon's tone, the subtle hint of jealousy and control in his words. He understood the hidden message loud and clear.

With a respectful nod, he complied, his hand slowly releasing your shoulders. He stepped back, creating a small distance between you and him.

Simon's gaze remained fixed on you, his expression a mix of possessiveness and protectiveness.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice low and commanding as he reached out to you, gripping your wrist. With firm, controlled motions, he pulled you to his side, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

The possessiveness in his touch was evident, a silent reminder of his claim on you, even amidst the crowded venue.

His hand on your waist was firm, his fingers pressing slightly, a silent claim of ownership. "Stay close, you slut. Can’t even trust you to control yourself around a man.” he murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

Thanks for letting me waste your time, reader!

NANAMI KENTO—as your husband who came home late again.

Context: Nanami, who usually comes home early, came home late for the third time this week, like he was building a late streak. But you didn't know he was actually a sorcerer, and not just a man stuck with paperwork.

Content: slightly breed!ng k!nk, taking your anger out on him through s3x, reader is in control

WC: 674

part 1 part 2

HE’S FINALLY IN—Part 3

He climbed over you, kissing you desperately. You could even taste your own release on his tongue as he pushed it past your lips.

His hands roamed down to your breasts, groping them roughly. They were like his personal stress balls.

He pulled away, leaving you feeling empty and trembling. He stood at the edge of the bed, unbuckling his belt slowly. The sound of metal clinking echoed in the quiet room, driving you crazy with anticipation.

He pushed his pants and boxers down, freeing his hard, leaking cock. It slapped against his stomach, red and angry, pre-cum already oozing from the tip.

He positioned himself between your legs, gripping your thighs and spreading them wide. He lined himself up at your entrance, rubbing the thick head up and down your slick folds, teasing you.

“Look at me,” he ordered lowly.

And then, he pushed in slowly. Inch by glorious inch. He stretched you open so deliciously, the burn mixing with pleasure as he filled you up completely until he was buried deep inside your womb. He stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, groaning deeply.

“Y-you’re so big, Ken…” You breathed out, your walls clenching him tighter, making him groan even more.

“Yeah…? But you take it so well, my love. Like you were made to take my cock…” He grunted, as he slowly started moving. He pulled back until only the tip remained, before slamming back in again.

“Fucking hell, you’re gonna make me lose my mind. G-gonna impregnate my wife. Gonna breed you, love.” He declared, emphasizing his claim with deep, hard thrusts.

But suddenly, you pushed him. You flipped him onto his back and climbed on top. You grabbed his throbbing length, rubbing the tip against your soaked clit. He stared at you with disbelief and pure hunger in his eyes.

“Love, fuck. What are you doing?” He hissed, but you silenced him with a finger against his lips.

“T-this… This is your punishment, Ken… Y-you kept secrets from me.” You whispered, slowly lowering yourself down, impaling yourself on his length.

He clenched his jaw tight. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were going to go slow… and he hated it.

You moved agonizingly slow, feeling his cock throb violently inside you. He was so close. But he refused to cum before you did. However, your tight walls and your moans were pushing him to the edge.

“F-fuck, baby, wait.. I’m gonna cum…” He growled, letting you take control for a moment. But just as he was about to reach his peak, you pulled off completely.

“What the actual fuck? Stop playing with me, love. Please.” His voice was dripping with frustration, his back arching off the bed just to feel your heat again. But you shook your head, kissing his cheek mockingly. “This is your punishment, remember?”

That was it. He snapped.

His day had already been terrible, and now his woman was denying him release? Pathetic.

He gripped your hips tightly, forcing you back down onto his cock, spearing you open in one rough move. His hips pistoned in and out rapidly, hitting deep enough to make you see stars, driving you right to the edge too.

“I’ll fucking make it up to you later. Just let me have this.” He gritted out.

With one final, deep thrust, you shattered. Your walls clamped down on him like a vice, squeezing every vein, every ridge. But he didn’t stop. He was chasing his own high now. You felt his cock twitch violently before he slammed in one last time, painting your walls white. Ropes and ropes of cum filled you up, and he angled your hips just right to make sure it stayed deep inside.

“G-gonna make sure it takes, mama. I only want to have babies with you… only you.”

After the high faded, your gentle Kento came back. And that was when he finally explained why he was always coming home late.

He wasn’t just a salaryman.

He was a Sorcerer.

Thanks for letting me waste your time, reader!

NANAMI KENTO—as your husband who came home late again.

Context: Nanami, who who usually comes home early, came home late for the third time this week, like he was building a late streak. But you didn't know he was actually a sorcerer, and not just a man stuck with paperwork.

Content: Breed!ng k!nk,, taking his anger out on you through s3x, reader is in control(maybe in pt3)

WC: 295

part 1 part 3

PREP YOU UP—PART 2

In one swift move, he had you pinned beneath him. You rolled your eyes, acting unimpressed, but your body betrayed you. He could feel your heat already, he ignored your little huffs, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, neck, and shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave marks.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” he growled, loosening his tie before ripping your shirt off.

His hands immediately grabbed your breasts, kneading the soft flesh. “So perfect… thought about this all day. Thought about filling you up, breeding you until you’re round with my child… Fuck.”

He took a nipple into his hot mouth, sucking greedily while twisting the other between his fingers. “So sweet… gonna taste even sweeter when your milk comes down…” He bit down lightly, making you arch your back, your pussy throbbing desperately against his thigh.

He moved down, kissing a wet trail down your stomach until he settled between your legs. Seeing your slick folds twitching for him, he smirked. He barely brushed his tongue against your clit, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

“F-fuck, Ken… stop teasing!” you cried, hips bucking up.

“Please…”

That was all he needed. He dove in, eating you out like a starved man, lapping up your juices while shoving two fingers deep inside, curling them ruthlessly against your sweet spot.

“That’s it… so good for me…”

The squelching sounds and your moans filled the room. Your walls clamped down tight on his fingers as the pleasure coiled dangerously in your belly.

“K-ken… I’m gonna cum—!”

He pinched your clit sharply and you shattered. You screamed his name as your legs shook violently, and he groaned against you, sending vibrations straight through your core, drinking every last drop of your release.

“Atta girl…”

NANAMI KENTO—as your husband who came home late again.

Context: Nanami, who usually comes home early, came home late for the third time this week, like he was building a late streak. But you didn’t know he was actually a sorcerer, and not just a man stuck with paperwork.

Content: Breed!ng k!nk, slight angst…?, taking your anger out on him through s3x, reader is in control

WC: 654

P.S. this is my first time, so if it’s horrible, i’m sorry😭

part 2 part 3

THREE TIMES LATE—PART 1

The first time it happened, you understood him. Sure, he always comes home early. Maybe he got swamped with paperwork, right? But it was the third time this week. Three freaking times. You immediately started overthinking. What if it was another woman keeping him busy, and not paper works? Nope. Nope. You tried pushing that thought away—really tried. But it always seemed to haunt you, and it looked like it was one of those nights again, where he comes home late. Because it was already 9:45 PM, and still no sign of him. You sighed as you stood up from the couch and headed to the bathroom, you decided to do your nightly routine and head to bed first. After all, beauty sleep comes first. But it was the first time you’d ever go to bed mad at him.

You were so distracted making sure you did your routine perfectly that you didn’t hear the front door opening.

Nanami just came home, and he was mad. Not his usual grumpiness. It was mad mad. He needed his woman after a long day of fighting curses non-stop. They didn’t even give him a break because they were “short” on sorcerers.

But when he saw that you weren’t waiting for him on the couch, something just clicked in his mind. His anger lessened as he looked for you. When he heard the water running from the bathroom, he breathed a sigh of relief. He thought you had left him. Because back when you two weren’t married yet, you always left whenever he kept things to himself. You thoroughly believe that in a relationship, you shouldn’t keep secrets from one another.

As you finished your routine, you were about to head into the bedroom. But the doorway was blocked by Nanami’s towering body, and he looked down at you. But you didn’t back down. You were mad at him, remember? You glared at him, before rolling your eyes and gently pushing him away. Because even if you were mad, you wouldn’t do anything that could physically hurt someone. Well, it was a bold assumption that you could even physically hurt a tank like him.

He looked at you genuinely confused and worried, but when he remembered he came home late—three times this week—he immediately looked guilty instead. But you ignored him and gave him the cold shoulder. “Love, I’m sorry…” He started, but you weren’t having it. You didn’t even look his way, nor listen. You just went straight to the bedroom, slamming the door with more force than needed. He sighed because he knew he fucked up. He fucked up big time. He knew he had just done what you hated the most. It wasn’t that he came home late; it was that he kept the reason to himself.

He was contemplating whether to give you space or barge in there to apologize, but in the end, he chose to give you space. Because he knew you liked your space in moments like this. But not even 15 minutes later, he couldn’t stop himself from barging into your shared room. And there you were, trying to fall asleep as you faced the wall opposite the door.

He sat on the bed before laying down beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist. “I’m sorry for coming home late…” He whispered, emphasizing his words with kisses on your nape. “Baby, don’t ignore me… please… Yell at me, hit me, say you hate me. Just don’t leave me hanging, baby.” He added, and you knew he meant every word. Because if there was one thing Nanami hated about situations like this? It was your silence after he did something wrong.

His hand from your waist moved down to grip your inner thigh, because he knew exactly what you needed to cool your head down. For him to fuck your brains out and make you forget everything that happened.