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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.
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Her eyes reminded him of the rich soil of their garden, of the roots of the flowers and plants they would harvest for their meals, of the rich herbal teas that would warm their bodies after a long winter day.
I commissioned the kind Pudding for another artwork based on Irori and Jizai! I'm so happy Uraume is included as well, since their relationship with Moriko and Sukuna is one of the most important aspects of my fics ; v ;
a pic from yuuji’s camera roll <3 little harder to look back on after shibuya but he can’t bring himself to delete it (it’d be like losing them all over again)
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For a man cheating on his wife, Nanami is real gentlemanly when he fucks you.
He always has been — ever since that first time he left his sleeping wife in bed to drive to your apartment and fuck you stupid on your couch, he did so with a certain respect to your body that not many men think twice about nowadays. Made you come twice before filling you up.
Maybe you expected him to be rough. That he'd let his guilt out on you with sharp thrusts and spanks and hateful sex against whatever surface is the coldest and most unforgiving. And sure, he has his heated moments after a long day or a marital spat at home, but for the most part, he's kind.
You'd call him a good man, if not for the obvious.
And you're no better, of course. You saw the ring, caught glimpses of his lock screen when he'd check his phone around you. A lovely photo from his wedding day, looking adoringly at a woman in white who was most definitely not you.
You wonder, if their honeymoon was anything like this, what possibly could have killed the spark.
You grasp at the petal-covered bedcover as Kento rolls his hips into yours, filling you with his weighty cock and accenting it with a kiss to your neck. He groans as you tighten around him, wetting his cock even more. You've long since stopped using condoms together — it feels better, and the risk makes you giddy.
"Can't believe you booked us a honeymoon suite," you gasp, scratching your nails against his scalp as he thrusts into you. He had told his wife that a sudden business trip would steal him away for a few nights in the city; it'd only be smart to book a hotel room and save on travel. "It's a little on the nose, don't you think?"
Another sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your neck tells you more than words could; he just doesn't care. It took him months to get over the nauseating guilt he felt when he'd come and find his pleasure between your legs rather than his wife's, but he has since learnt to let desire take the wheel. And you have since learnt to leave your shame at the door.
That doesn't mean your mind doesn't wander. The stroking drag of Nanami's cock inside of you is narcotic, but a thought pesters you with each graze of his tip along your g-spot.
"Tell me you love me," you squeeze your eyes shut, holding your breath in embarrassment when his thrusts slow.
His voice is silken. Amused. "What was that?"
He's a tease, which you didn't expect from a man so put-together. He likes watching you burn up as he unravels you. So you meet his gaze and take in the pink dusting across his nose and cheeks, the mess of blond that brushes over his forehead — he's just as needy as you are.
"It doesn't have to be true," you flit your gaze to the tray on the bedside. On it is a champagne bucket, a 'congratulations on your marriage!' placard, and his wedding ring. "I just want to pretend. We're in a honeymoon suite after all, I want to..."
He catches your drift. There's this unspoken language between you that you think might only be born from doing such a heinous thing together. You're partners; whether that's in crime or romance is a moot point. You feel like an old married couple anyway. He knows you; knows why you're suddenly so shy, knows when and how you need to come, knows what you'll order from room service once he's done with you.
"You want to be my wife?" He searches your face. You feel his cock throb inside of you, twitching at the thought of having you in name as well as body. "Hm, Mrs. Nanami?"
Yes. God, yes. You feel naive and heart-eyed looking to be thoroughly owned by an unfaithful man like him, but your cunt is tight and pulsing around him — you couldn't lie to him about your needs even if you wanted to.
"You know," he starts, his voice rough as he pulls out of your just long enough to reach over and take his wedding ring from the bedside table. "I come home some nights and half expect to see you waiting for me in bed."
Kento grabs your left hand and slips his ring onto your finger. It's too big, and he has to close his hand around yours to keep it in place, which pushes the metal into your skin. You feel lightheaded with want.
"I wish it was me," you whisper, skin burning as he lines his cock up once again and pushes home. "That you come home to."
He moans, burying himself inside of you and his face in your neck. "It is. Come on, love, live in it. I love you."
"Fuck," you exhale, lungs on fire. He quickens his pace, fucking into you with a snapping of his hips. You can hear yourself squelching around him. "Love you too. You feel so good."
"Is that why you married me?" He snorts, teasing. He pulls back enough to press a kiss to your lips. "For the time spent between my sheets? I thought we had more going for us, honey."
You reach up with your free hand and stroke the side of his face, revelling in the feel of slight stubble beneath your palm. "I have to keep you interested somehow, hm?"
His eyes blaze with something untelling. Dipping down again, he licks at your lips. You part them, let his tongue venture in and explore your mouth, running over your teeth and drooling spit from his mouth to yours. It's messy and gross and he pulls away to leave a streak of saliva across your chin, but your stomach curls with a pending orgasm regardless.
"You," he smears his spit over your lips, "have nothing to worry about."
"No?" You buck your hips up from the plush mattress and wrap your thighs around his waist, locking them at his ass and using that embrace to pull him deeper. "You'd be okay with just me, for the rest of your long life?"
"Our long life," he corrects, flexing forward until he's so deep inside of you that there's no space left to give. "And yes. 'Til death do us part, my love. I want to sink into this beautiful body of yours until the very end."
You snort. He's poetic, for a businessman.
He fucks you long and slow and deep with thrusts that are more intimate than pleasure-seeking. It doesn't feel like a torrid affair, and you don't feel sick for sleeping with a married man. Because, even if it's just for your time spent beneath him, he's yours.
And maybe he's parroting the same words he told his real wife back to you. He could be a rakehell, depositing his cum inside of you with no care for the heart he holds in his hands.
But at the end of his long days, it's you he sneaks away to see. It's your body in which he finds his comfort. Your tits that he sucks on. Your mouth that he feeds his cock into. Your cunt that he fills again and again with an unspoken hope that maybe something will stick, and he'll have an excuse to come clean and start anew with you.
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.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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