#sacredwrites

truth be told, you do it on purpose. this isn't the first time he's bent you over for this reason, and it surely won't be the last.

"told you" smack! "not to" smack! "try this shit" smack! "again." smaaack! your pretty, tear covered face is pushed into the couch cushions, warm leather and toji's musk filling your nose. he's got you bent over his lap, ass high in the air, perfect for hitting.

how gravelly his voice gets when he's angry and turned on never ceases to make your panties wet. his boner is pressing into your tummy. knowing how much it turns him on when you misbehave, it's a surprise he actually expects you to listen to him.

"you know i don't like other guys hitting on you. that's my job." 'that's why i do it,' you think. you wiggle your ass at him in response, mainly because you can't use your mouth.

of course, it sets him alight (and makes his dick twitch a bit) "you think this is funny? do it again. i dare you."

everyone knows you don't say no to dares. you shake your ass again, but not without a giggle. considering the angry huff your husband let out, maybe it wasn't a good idea. you'll never know though, because he's already grabbed a fistful of your hair, strong hands yanking your head out the cushions.

the spanks that follow are unforgiving. the living room echoes with each impact, makes the flesh of your ass ripple before and after the next.

"bet this is what you want all those guys to do, huh?" you can't tell if he's saying it more to your or himself, voice low and pointed. "lookin' at my fuckin' wife."

"no toji, no," you whimper. "fucking liar." smack! "admit you do it for attention, now." "you weakly shake your head, motions stifled by the hand in your hair. "you want me to spank this pussy next?" your pussy's saying yes, your head is shaking no.

he doesn't give you time to reply, spanking hand moving to pull down your wetting panties. the cool air his your slit making you shiver. "fuck... look how pretty she is," he says, hypnotized. he shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. "too bad i have to spank her."

your slick and his hand make for a loud, filthy sound when he hits the soft skin. "toji! stop it!" "not until you admit it," he groans in your ear.

reluctantly, and with a tear or two, you say it: "i don't wear my ring for attention!" you whimper out. immediately, his motions stop. he's letting go of your hair, keeping you up by a loose grip on your neck instead.

"that's what i like to hear." his large thumb is caressing your cheek, gripping and rubbing that sting out. "there there, shh," he coos, attempting to stop the pain he caused. "if you just said it first, we wouldn't have this problem." still being a bastard, though.

"we both know that's a lie, toji." he grins at your little sniffle. "maybe i am lying." he knows he is. "well then, you need to apologize for it." his eyebrow quirks up, signature move for 'what the hell are you talking about.'

"and how should i apologize, wifey?" his rubbing motions have stopped, going back to massaging the doughy flesh like bread. "well," you say, wincing, "you could start by showing me what's in those boxers. it's been poking me this whole time."

the air becomes hot, like the ac is listening in. "only if you put the ring on." his eyes are clouded, knowing he's about to take his wife. "you can slide it on when you make me cum," you retort.

while your brain is frying at the edges, every nerve alight, nanami is asking you to do the impossible.

"cum for me again."

you want to, of course, but your sweat clicked body has other plans. no matter how much he grinds, fucks or rubs you at just the right angle, it's not enough to send you over the edge.

he's got you lying on your side, back pressed to him. his heartbeat is hammering against you in time with his thrusts, precise and controlled.

he notices the way you press your ass against him, chasing that high that's just out of reach. "tell me what you need, darling."

"your voice, kento." so quietly, so pathetic it's barely more than a whisper.

but he obeys regardless. pushing your leg up, his tip reaches even deeper, has your cunt gripping him in pleasure. "fuck," he groans. "there you go. taking my cock so well."

that has you mewling, head thrown back on a silent cry. the coil low in your belly tightens, but it's still not enough to send you over the edge.

"more!" you beg, chanting it over and over, brain clouded with lust.

"moan for me, darling. let it all out."

aided by his praise, you moan freely. your sinful noises echo off the walls into his ears. he joins you in making impassioned groans of his own. composure breaking, he hikes one of your legs up, hand gliding down to rub at your clit.

the coil grows tighter, threads of pleasure threatening to break into your peak. it's embarrassing how easily he can turn you on with just his words and that's exactly why you need him more.

"s-shitt, i'm close," you moan. one more thrust and you'll be gushing around him, ecstasy just out of reach.

"you need permission," he cuts himself off with a groan. "don't you?"

"yesyesyes— please let me cum!"

he shifts your position slightly, leg hugged even tighter against your chest and your face pushed into the pillows. the circles on your clit are smaller, sparks of pleasure lighting in your belly.

"cum for me, darling."

your orgasm racks through you without pause. toes curling, body locked up, vision whited out, you're at the complete mercy of it. you're screaming and creaming on him before you realize. through the haze, you can hear nanami groaning behind you, trying (and failing) to stay in control.

thrusts going sloppy, he fucks you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you can barely take it. "fuck, ken!"

he spills inside you, flooding your hole with opaline waves. for every tremor of your walls he's pistoning into you.

finally, both of you finish. rolling onto your back, his cock is free to slip out. his cum cascades out your sopping hole, sticking to your sweaty thighs. silence and the scent of sex hangs in the air for a while. right now, it's just you and him.

shifting to face him, you see he's already looking back, eyes glinting with pure adoration.

"i'll never get tired of your voice."

"same to you, darling."

for nanami kento, aftercare isn't a choice; it's a necessity, a very vital one at that.

you currently can't move, courtesy of your fiance, of course. he's been away for days, some mission going haywire. your loneliness paired with his frustration could only mean one thing: reunion sex.

that's how you've ended up like this, jelly legs and all. the bedroom currently looks like the one from twilight breaking dawn. your vision is blurry, the room stinks of sex and the candles are just about to go out. perfect.

while you're perfectly content staying like this, nanami has other plans. "sit up so i can wipe you down."

you give a loud sigh, yet still obeying him. "uuugh. why can't we stay like this forever?"

"because it's unhygienic, not to mention cruel if i didn't force you to get cleaned up."

you glare at him. he sees it, holds back a smirk and goes to get a towel. "it was rhetorical, ken."

"i know," he replies, slightest hint of sass in his voice. 'if only i could move,' you think. maybe then you could slap him on the wrist and make him leave you alone.

back in the present, he's back with a warm towel and lotion. you giggle when the cotton touches your skin despite earlier frustrations. "that tickles!"

"yeah?" he chuckles under his breath. it's more of a huff than anything. a mark of exhaustion. it's only now that you realize how tired he probably is. just fought for his like than spent hours rearranging your guts like it's nothing.

he always insists that he's fine, that you have nothing to worry about.

"this is all about you. don't worry your pretty little head about it."

it warms your heart that he cares so much, but he's rather dismissive when it comes to his own neds.

"ken?"

"yes, darling?"

"thanks for taking care of me. really."

he smirks at that. just as you expected. "your welcome. it's nothing. i'm only doing what a good lover should do." during the short conversation he's already done toweling you off.

"i know, but... you always take care of me and you ignore your own needs. kinda makes me feel bad, y'know?"

near silence hangs in the air. crackling frames and his hands against yours are the only things to cut through it. his heartbeat is almost audible.

"i suppose you're correct. i should be kinder to myself, shouldn't i?" it's not a true question. thinking out loud— no, an admission is what it is. his eyes have met the ground.

"you should let me take care of you some time."

"you do every day, baby." even with weary eyes he manages to be tender. "stop it, ken." his smirk grows to a full smile. there's nothing he loves more than making you happy.

again the room goes silent, yet it's welcome. you sink into the mattress as he rubs soothing lotion into your hickies. sleep nearly takes you until he pokes you awake.

"so," he whispers, "i take it you still want the foot massage?"

"of course i do, dummy!" you swat at his chest that you can barely reach. that gets a full laugh from him. "my apologies," he says, wiping a tear from his eye. "just teasing."

it took the last of your energy to hit him. you settle into the bed for good this time. soft blankets bunched at your waist, warm hands on your body and a tummy full of cum. just how you like to sleep. just before you doze off, he leans down to give your forehead a chaste kiss.

"i love you, darling."

masterlist | @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred

after years of back breaking labor, curse fighting and anguish, all the ex-salaryman could wish for was a happy marriage, time off, and maybe a kid or two (or three).

nanami kento can't help but flush when he sees you in your signature apron. it's beyond worn (courtesy of it being an old hand me down) and you often have to ignore the copious amounts of stains adorning the flimsy fabric. the homemade nature of it, the fact that no one else has seen you in it is what turns him on. you think he's a perv.

one of nanami kento's favorite pastimes is washing your hair. something about the strands trailing between his fingers, coiling 'round, his guiding hand tilting your head back to prevent any shampoo from getting in your eyes, watching the suds drift down your naked figure... it's beyond erotic.

nanami kento is horniest on lazy days. days where there's no deadlines, overtime to be worked, not a single opportunity for his alone time with you to be interrupted.

it doesn't mean he takes you like an animal or pounds you into the mattress; he'd rather pick up another shift than do that.

it means he takes his time, savors every drop of your lust like never before. tears spring to your eyes, not from pain or glum, but from tantalizing pleasure; from your lover taking care of you in way no one else has, or could; from tens of lengthy orgasms, each more toe-curling than the last, spanning the entire morning.

"k-kennn," you whimper, voice fraying at the edges. he could cum just from that, your broken voice calling out for him so sweetly.

"mhm?" he mutters it against your skin, head tucked in the crook of your neck while he grinds into you in mating press.

the bed is creaking, shuddering against you and nanami's combined weight. his hair a mess, lean body braced over you, he's so close you could cry.

"feels so good-hic!" you moan, filthy noises flowing freely, not even sure of what you're saying. his strokes, so slow and soft, dragging against your soaked folds, have turned you into a whimpering, shaky mess.

"who's making you feel good, hm?" god, that tone. there's a twinge of mocking yet he's still tender. a dark cloud lowers over his gaze, a mean, lustful energy peering it's head.

"you!" instantly he groans, a lengthy vibration that echoes in your head.

adjusting himself, his arms wrap around yours like vines, entangling your fingers together. he shushes you when you scream into his ear, moving to rest his forehead on yours.

"feels good when i do this"—punctuating his thrust, he moves his hips to be flush against yours, cock head nuzzling your weeping cervix — "doesn't it, darling?"

"mhm mhm, yes!" escaping from his grasp, your hands find purchase in his hair, the sheets, his back, anything you can get a hold of. he thrusts especially hard when you pinch his back; angry red stripes bloom underneath your nails, leaving a white-hot trail of pleasure in their wake.

"shiiit, doll," he groans, booming voice cracking. his domineering energy wilts for a second, a moment of vulnerability. even through your lust, you can see he's about to cum.

together, you release, his earth shattering orgasm sending you over the edge.

it's a miracle the bed doesn't break from beneath you. all of his weight is bearing down on you, pinning you to the sticky sheets. his motions only now falter, hips stuttering as they make you clench harder.

for a long moment, the only sound is heavy breathing. he's the one to break it, getting up to carry your soaking form to the shower.

"was it good for you?" he asks, usual fond tone returning.

"what do you think?" you moan, words a little slurred. the ghost of a smirk tugs against his lips, clearly amused by your antics.

nanami kento who's the king of aftercare. not a single bruise, scratch or tear goes unnoticed. he's geared up with ointment and the safety kit, prepared to tend to your every need. you tease him for being dramatic, but he knows that you secretly love it.

"can a man not care for his wife?" he muses.

nanami kento who loves cooking for you, or the other way around. from the simplest sandwiches to filling beef wellington, anything you desire can be made. crave it and he'll make it.

adoration swells in him when you compliment his food, mouth full of whatever divinity he just cooked up.

nanami kento who's the best partner in the world. other husbands figuratively bow their heads in shame when he walks in. he's a strong believer in never going to bed angry, opening every door and, most importantly, his wife's pleasure.

masterlist | @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred

everything is testing his patience today. he stubbed his toe on the bed frame getting up, took him two tries to put his tie on right, the coffee machine at work broke, he could go on and on. all he wanted was to come home and relax with his wife, maybe get his dick wet if he wasn't too exhausted.

instead, all you wanted to do was beg him for something he's refused many times in the past.

"plleeeease, just fuck me rough! i can handle it. i'm not glass," you pout. the vein above his left brow is bulging, a sure sign he's irritated. "no. i don't believe in hurting women. it's cruel." you swear you can hear his teeth grinding.

"what would i do anyway?" he asks. a mistake. "like, choke me, or slap me, call me something that can't be uttered again..." you trail off, waiting for his reaction. his eyes are rolling in their sockets.

"but nanamin! you're not hurting me. i want i-" "you're my wife. i'm not treating you like some reckless pervert on the street." his sturdy frame is now turned away from you in his chair. he's not even looking at you, face buried in some paperwork he had to take home. his word is final.

disappointed and horny, you mope off to bed. there's no point in trying to get him to change his mind. he's the gentle type, the kind of man that kisses your tears away as you complain that it won't fit. cruelty isn't in his nature.

it's not until your asleep that nanami fully considers your pleas. you have been a brat, and he can't lie that his cock is hardening, uncomfortably tight in his pants at the thought of you folded up for him. maybe he should finally indulge you.

ꨄ︎

ꨄ︎

"mm sorry, i'm sorry! i won't ask again!" the empty promises barely make it out of your lips. nanami's hand is gripping your jaw, pulling the pretty thing toward him. "thought this is what you wanted," he teases. it is, but being fucked so rough you can barely breathe wasn't your intention.

he's got you folded in mating press, knees to your ears and his chest pressed to yours. it's almost like his cock is in your lungs, knocking the air out of you with every thrust.

tears prick at your eyes when he hits your cervix. there's no way he's been this deep before. it's too different, too intoxicating the way his cock massages that spongy spot deep inside. all you can do is grab at the sheets, desperately try to crawl away from him.

"stop running." is all he says before he's grabbing your thighs, pulling you flush against him. now you're pelvis is grinding into his, unable to move with his grasp on you. he's unconsciously grinding down onto your clit, nearly sending you into your fourth orgasm of the night.

"stop ken! fuck, i'm gonna-hic-cum!" eyes rolling, your body writhes, too overwhelmed to do anything but take your husband's cock. it's filthy how you drool, ruining the expensive silk pillows he got you.

but he doesn't care. what he does care about is that you're not looking at him, not fucked out enough to be all whines and no words. you find yourself staring down at where your bodies connect, sticky and wet. the sinful heat is fogging up his glasses like steam.

his hand has found purchase in your hair, forcing your head down to look at the shared sloppy creation.

"can't take it, huh? don't ask for things you can't handle, sweetheart." if they weren't stuck up in your skull, you'd be rolling your eyes at him. his cruelty is showing, drunk off your submission. his thrusts are even more delicious, threatening to make you cream then and there. "be a good girl and cum for me. i know you can do it."

you're cumming around him before you realize it. toes curling, silent screaming, the whole nine yards because his dick is so fucking good. wetness runs down your thighs, connecting with nanami's brutal hips to make filthy plap plap plaps. "shit, you're so fucking wet," he groans, his own orgasm on the horizon.

your pussy is sucking him in, wringing him for all he's worth. relentless fucking through your high nearly pushes you into another. his pace is stuttering, body twitching at how good you feel.

he finishes with a thrust harder than all the rest, head of his cock pressed against your cervix. his glasses have fallen off now, probably broken somewhere under the sheets. you can feel his cock throbbing, pumping you with ropes of cum that are sure to go deep.

unlike normal, he crumples besides you, yet still not pulling out. there's a sudden ache in his lower back that wasn't there before, dull and irritating. "i'm exhausted," he pants. he says it as if he hasn't flattened you out on the mattress. neither of you are used to this level of exhaustion, but it aches so good.

silently, he brings you close. the familiar scent of his sweat and cologne envelop you. he's back to himself.

"ken?" you whisper. your husband grunts in reply, attempting to go to sleep. "will you do this again? pleasesayyespleasesayyes." "maybe. if you're good."

you blink in confusion. "but wasn't this a punishment?" "if it was a punishment, you wouldn't be talking right now." his lips ghost against your neck, clearly curling into a grin.

"talk to me, please."

nanami's been on his knees for you many times but never to apologize.

grovelling, the corners of his mouth twitch in desperation. he doesn't care that the grimy floor is staining his three piece suit, or that you won't give him so much as a glance.

you've been ignoring him for days. his responses are long and drawn out, an apology thrown in somewhere, contrasting your curt ones.

he stoops as low as buying you things in hopes of making you feel better. the blonde sorcerer isn't one for material things, but if this is what it takes to make his lover pay attention to him, it's worth it. (news flash: it didn't work.)

now he's on the floor, worshiping your legs, large hands running up and down them. his golden tresses frame his face delicately.

"my love, what have i done?" you huff in response. he'll take it.

"i'll make it up, whatever it is, i promise," he says, groaning against your skin. he pauses between words to kiss you, lips lingering longer than they should.

"it's nothing, nanami." a pang of guilt hits you at his expression; serious and worried, like a puppy who knows they're in trouble.

"it's ken, darling. you know this," he adds, struggling to stay composed. continuing, he gently spreads your legs. in no time his face is shoved between them, kissing all along the tops of the doughy skin. it takes all your might not to moan when he suckles, hickies already forming.

you don't stop him when he peels your shorts off. foregoing panties, you cringe at the cold air on your soaked sex.

"you ignore me, yet you're dripping." his tone is mocking, but it only makes you wetter.

the man has always prided himself on being a doting partner.

that's why he likes missionary, or lotus position, where he can see the pretty face he fell in love with. he'd never refer to lovemaking as 'smashing' or 'pounding'; it's too vulgar, too immature. your pleasure, and being the cause of that pleasure, is his favorite part of intimacy.

so it's a shocker when your caring, sweet husband is giving you the roughest fucking of your life. and from behind, no less.

"ah-nana! 's too big, too big!" every syllable is accentuated by him knocking into you, hips drilling into your plush ass. "you take it every night, baby," he coos, voice still gentle despite his juxtaposing motions. if he weren't as nice, he'd be smacking your ass by now.

"don't complain because it's a different position." the thought of a feeble rebuttal is fucked out before you can make it. that long, curved cock is nearly hitting your pretty cervix, making your freshly manicured toes curl in pleasure.

back arched in doggy, he has a pillow under your pelvis, making his cock hit even deeper. it's relentless, deadset on making you cum as hard and fast as possible.

missionary allows for more connection, lets you know his next move. there's none of that in this position. only embarrassing, loud sobs from your throat and squelching from your gushing pussy filling the shared bedroom.

"ohmygod, so fucking tight," he groans, baritone turning you on even more. he can't lie, the angle is amazing. hot ropes are threatening to spill out too early, fill up your hole till you're stuffed.

"mm, nana! gonna make me cum, no more!" unfortunately for you, your moans only spur him on, begging him to fuck you harder. "you wanna cum?" he asks, mouth now right in the crook of your neck. "yes please," you whimper over and over, incoherent. "then look at me."

hands are tangling in your hair before you know it, wrapping around like a leash as your neck is craned back. two dark, half lidded hazel eyes meet with yours. contrary to his, yours are rolling back, weakly trying to look at him. "come on, look at me, pretty girl."

pretty girl. that nickname that's had you creaming on him more times than you can count. like every time, it works.

"fuck, nana! i'm cumming, i'm cumming!" on command, his hips speed up, desperately trying to stay inside of your tightening pussy. "don't stop." he knows you won't, not with the mind blowing fuck he's giving. it's to dominate, to show you that you'll do it as long as he says.

overstimulated, you crumple onto the mattress, legs splayed wide for your husband. his ring is glinting in the low light of the bedside lamp, a reminder of who you belong to. like the gentleman he is, he's holding you up by his grip on your hair, back still arched perfectly.

your eyes roll back again with the feeling of your orgasm, intense and long. your eyes are squeezed shut, the only way you can bare the pleasure. his hips, his cock, hands, muscles, him, it's all you can feel. it's familiar yet overwhelming. there's a new sensation, though, and it's not nanami's cum.

streams of slick and cream are running down your thighs, coating nanami's balls. the added wetness feels delicious on your clit, his full sack smacking into it without fail. his head tilts back, golden tresses falling onto his face with a low moan, the one he lets out when he's close.

"fuck, it's pushing me out!-" not a thrust later, his entire cock is out of your pussy, settling onto your sore ass. with the way you're shaking, ass jiggling too, he can't help that he cums then and there.

white, warm cum spurts out of his dick like water to a sprinkler. the sight of it covering your skin nearly makes his eyes cross. without thinking, he's thrusting into your cheeks, rubbing his mess all over them.

"nana! you're being gross," you whine, barely regaining your senses. amusement graces his features. not that you can tell, though. his hand left your hair the second you squirted.

"i'm sorry, darling. this ass is just too fucking sexy." he gives the doughy flesh a pinch in apology. his eyes crinkle, smiling at the yelp you give.

"you were supposed to come inside, y'know," you say, muttering. "doggy feels better for guys, at least i think." the bed dips as he lays on his side, eyes level with yours. "as long as i have my beautiful wife, i'm satisfied." you roll your eyes.

there's a beat of silence. it's broken by nanami, even though he'd prefer no talking. "darling?" "hhm, nana?"

── LACE DOLL

❤︎⁠ ꒱ ˎˊ your dearest husband nanami's lingerie choices are getting stale. if he keeps buying the same sets, you fear your sex life may be in jeopardy! to fix it, you've bought a new one as a surprise for him!

cw: second guessing, shy!reader, not proofread and a cliffhanger (mwahaha)

while nanami loved too spoil you with lace and lingerie (sometimes too much, frankly) he was very… plain.

every now and again he'd buy a new set. something with a lacy finish, almost always in crimson red or baby pink. a typical bush up bra and thong, maybe a tanga for special occasions.

they make you feel sexy, emboldened, and nanami's sweet praise (and fucking) only serves that. problem is, something's missing.

after years of worn out lingerie, you had an idea. why not buy your own lingerie? that's why for his birthday week surprise, you bought a bold new set.

honestly, bold is an understatement: bright orange lace shimmers off your glazed skin, courtesy of some body oil nanami gifted you.

pink flowers adorn the straps, hugging and pulling your every curve tight. little was left to the imagination, yet just enough was covered to tease. 10 minutes of finangling yourself into the lace later and you look like a vs angel.

now the hard part: waiting.