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iamtherealestet · 29 minutes ago

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murderous intent

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iamtherealestet · 1 day ago

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I can’t stop thinking about DILF kento who’s the best husband and father in the whole world <3

He’s always up early before work—blonde hair perfectly styled, his tie neat and snug around his neck. But his hand’s already on your ass in the kitchen while you’re trying to pour cereal for the kids. He leans in close and murmurs, “Bend over a little, sweetheart. Just like that,” as if it’s just another casual morning—which it is, in the Nanami household.

He’s so calm about it too. Nothing riles him. He could have your panties pushed to the side and rubbing little circles on your clit under the dining table while the kids are still brushing their teeth and still be checking the weather app calmly on his phone with a straight face.

He’s sooo big on discipline too, but only when you’re alone. If you’re being a tease, he’ll wait until everyone’s asleep, then bend you over the edge of the bed and say, “This is for acting out in front of the kids. Now count” and before you get anytime to protest, the loud sound of his palm colliding with the swell of your ass echos in your shared bedroom.

And Kento loves routines. Saturday morning grocery run, followed by fucking you in the backseat of his car while the groceries sweat in the trunk. Sunday night after bath time? He has you on his lap in the living room while he watches the news and the kids are staying at their grandparents house, his cock buried deep inside of you, with occasional slow little rolls of his hips every time you shift.

His aftercare is immaculate. Fuzzy robe, your favorite drink, rubbing lotion into your thighs with those big, warm hands. He says it’s so you’re not sore for the school run tomorrow—but you know he just likes taking care of what’s his.

And he definitely pulls your hand under the table at PTA meetings and makes you rub him through his slacks while he calmly discusses bake sale logistics.

He’s also very big on household rules—he enforces them. You sass him in front of the kids? You get a quiet, “We’ll talk later,” and your stomach flips. Later means he’s dragging you across his lap, voice low and calm while he pulls your panties down and says, “We don’t use that tone in this house, Darling”.

His love language is ruining you before 7 a.m. and leaving a sticky note on the fridge that says “You were perfect this morning. Don’t forget to drink water”. And he texts you at noon: “Thinking about how you looked bouncing on my cock. Proud of you, sweetheart”

The other dads are always late and tired for everything. But kento? He’s freshly shaved, in cuffed sleeves, and already made you came twice before breakfast.

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iamtherealestet · 1 day ago

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nobody tears through library books quite as fast as a 12 yr old girl with no friends

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iamtherealestet · 1 day ago

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Loosely based on this

You didn’t even mean to snap at him like that, you were usually one with lots of patience but today—the day had been so fucking long, the kids were being wild and disobedient and you were already two hours behind on laundry. So when Kento walked in from work, loosened his tie, and asked if you’d remembered to call the plumber, the frustration spilled.

You fired back without thinking. Something about how maybe he should try keeping up with the house instead of pretending his job was the only hard one.

And now you’re here, bent over his lap with your ass perched up on his thighs in the quiet of your shared bedroom, skin bared and heart pounding while the barely audible chatter of cartoons drifts up from the living room below.

The contrast is dizzying—innocent voices downstairs, and you up here, your cheeks pressed to the duvet and panties tangled at your knees, the sharp bite of his disapproval thick in the air.

His hand rests on your lower back, warm and steady like he’s trying to prepare you and reminding you that you were not in control here.

“You want to repeat that tone back to me?”

His voice is low and maddeningly calm. The kind of calm that makes your stomach twist, because you know what comes next.

You glared at the wall, teeth clenched, breath shaky as you answered with a stubborn huff. “I said maybe if you helped out more instead of acting like you’re the only one working—”

Slap!

The crack of his heavy palm meeting your bare ass splits the air like a gunshot. You jolted forward against his lap, your hands gripping the comforter as the sting spread hot across your skin. The burn was instant, blooming under his hand as you let out a hiss from the shock.

“That’s one”.

His hand doesn’t leave you. Instead, it soothes over the fresh imprint he just left behind, like he’s both punishing and comforting you at once.

“Count”

Your pride sours in your throat, but the weight of his palm and the steady rise of his chest under your body hold you in place.

“…One,” you murmur, stubbornly.

“That’s a good girl”

His tone is cool, like he’s correcting a child—not cruel, just patient and deeply disappointed. And somehow, that hurts more than the slap.

“We don’t use that tone in this house. You know better”.

You squirm against him, the sting already making your thighs tremble, but not from pain alone. His words tighten something in your chest, and your voice breaks as you try to defend yourself.

“Kento, I—”

Slap.

The second blow landed harder, a little higher this time, striking close to the soft curve of your hips.

Your breath catches hard in your throat.

“Two,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk as his thumb gently pressed into the trembling flesh of your thigh. “Count”.

“Two,” you gasp, your voice tight and bearly holding it together.

“Keep going until I feel like you’ve remembered how to speak to your husband”.

And you do. You count for him with flushed cheeks and misty eyes, each swat met with a soft whimper and a whispered number. His hand is big and methodical, each strike calculated—not too harsh, never cruel, but just enough to make your ass ache and your pride fold inward with each sharp sting.

By six, your voice was trembling, tears pricking the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from the overwhelming intensity of it. The closeness, the way he’s handling you with such calm authority. How deeply he cares about how you treat him.

“Six…”

But this time, no slap came. Instead, you felt the glide of his palm tracing over your burning skin, lingering possessively over the curve of your ass before his fingers dipped lower, gently brushing against the tender inside of your soft thigh. Reminding you, wordlessly, who you belonged to.

“I work very hard to provide for this family,” he says, and you can feel it in his voice. “I won’t tolerate that disrespect, especially not in my home. Understood?”

You nodded quickly, the shame twisting with heat low in your belly. Your throat felt tight, your lips trembling as you whispered, “Yes, sir”.

“Good”.

He bent forward and pressed a soft kiss to the small of your back—affectionate and loving in a way that makes your eyes flutter shut.

“Now pull those panties up and go set the table. I expect an apology during dinner”.

And you will. You’ll sit across from him with a freshly washed face, the kids giggling and chattering between bites of mashed potatoes, your foot brushing his under the table while your hand slips under to find his.

You’ll squeeze it gently. You’ll whisper, “I’m sorry,” with warm cheeks and shining eyes of regret.

And maybe, if you’re good for the rest of the night, he’ll let you ride him to relieve some stress after bedtime—but only if you ask nicely.

———

A/n - I promise you guys that after this, he started helping out more around the house—all that was needed was some communication but reader ended up snapping which is why they end up in that situation. It’s not a toxic marriage guys I promise🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 🫩

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iamtherealestet · 1 day ago

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