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seireiteihellbutterfly · 7 days

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Hell Hath No Fury

A/N: Written for @bleach-your-panties Blondes Have More Fun (#bhmf) event! Banner by the lovely @actuallysaiyan!. Pairing: Nanami Kento x Thick!Fem!Reader Warnings: MDNI, sex, facesitting, mentions of blood Summary: A night of lost tempers leads to Nanami contemplating certain (sexy) choices.

Nanami masterlist

It had been one of those weeks. Both of you had been working overtime every day and barely seen each other except when you collapsed into bed at night together. The apartment was dirty, stray items hastily placed wherever there was room to avoid having to find a proper spot for them in your fatigued state. The grocery shopping hadn’t been done and there wasn’t any milk left. Which you hadn’t realized until you had poured yourself some coffee and tipped the milk carton, only to have drops spill out. You glare angrily at your fiance, sipping his coffee with a pinched look because he is going to be late if he doesn’t gulp it down and leave soon.

Catching your expression, he looks at the empty carton in your hand and instantly makes the connection. It’s been a horrible week for him too and the both of you had been snapping at each other so much lately, he decided it wasn’t worth picking a fight in the morning. He apologetically sets the mug down on the counter and pushes it towards you.

“Don’t get upset honey, we’ll get the grocery shopping done tomorrow. Just drink mine. I don’t have time to finish it anyway.”

You were about to snarkily make a comment but the peace gesture with the coffee was so sweet that you mellow down. Picking it up, you walk over to him and tip-toe to kiss him.

“Thank you, Kento. I just…I don’t know what’s going on this week. It’s all been so hectic and…I hate this.”

He pulls you to his side to give you a quick kiss. “I know. It’ll be fine. Just don’t forget dinner tonight. Our usual place.”

“I won’t.” It was one of the things you had been looking forward to ever since the crappy Monday morning you’d had. You sip his coffee as he shrugs into a jacket and waves bye to you. You could hardly contain your glee at the prospect of Friday night dinner with him. All this contained anger the both of you had been carrying over from work would dissipate, you’d reconnect, and the both of you would be happy again. So simple.

But of course, it didn’t happen that way.

You fling open the front door to your shared home later that night, seething, as you kick off your heels which ricochet off the wall as they clatter to the floor. Nanami follows behind you, his expression tight, irritability in every taut line on his face. He slams the door shut, making you quiver for a brief moment because it’s obvious how pissed off he is but you hold your ground.

With clenched teeth, you round on him. “Since when has the Italian place been our usual spot?”

Irascible, Nanami looks at you with narrowed eyes, all prettied up, fury in your expression. “Since forever?” he growls, trying to rein in his temper. “Since our first date? Since I proposed to you there?”

“I thought you were talking about the French bistro we always go to! The one we enjoy going to because it’s by the water?! So that we can take a late-night stroll?” You shoot back at him.

Granted, it’s both your fault for not checking in with each other about the location, but with everything that had happened this week, you were at a limit. You had spent an hour getting ready, and caught an Uber to the restaurant, only to be told by the confused hostess that a reservation under the name Nanami wasn’t there. You had insisted she check again before calling him, only for him to confirm he was already at the restaurant waiting for you; the fancy Italian place across town. That had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. All the bitter rage from the past week came spewing out, and despite his level-headedness, Nanami had lost his patience with you too.

He had tried so hard to end this shitty week on a high note, taken great care to make a reservation at the restaurant you loved so much, he had even picked up a bouquet of roses for you, which now lay forgotten in the backseat of his car. Controlling his ire as fought traffic while driving across town to pick you up, he had wondered how this night could have gone so wrong. You had remained quiet in the passenger seat as he drove, noting the way his fingers clenched around the steering wheel, the tightness in his jaw looking like it might snap under the strain.

“Why would the French place be our spot? We go to the Italian one so much more often!”

“I don’t care! Maybe you shouldn’t have assumed that I was thinking of the same place.”

“How does a late-night stroll beat the place I fucking proposed to you at?!” Nanami questions you indignantly.

You glower at him, taking in how effortlessly handsome he looks in his button-down shirt and slacks, looking like he hadn’t in fact gone straight to the restaurant from work. Even pissed off, your fiance was hot, and your gaze rakes over his features, the straight nose, the stiff line of his lips, the chiseled jaw and well-defined chin…the chin that his colleagues liked to joke about, saying it was practically begging to have a blow landed on it because of its punchable shape…Your hands curl into fists at your sides, and you take a deep breath, trying to not let your anger get the best of you.

Nanami huffs at your lack of response. “Or perhaps you forgot which restaurant I proposed to you at?” he asks sarcastically, anger not abated. That did it.

A red haze fills your vision and the tight string inside your chest snaps. Before you knew it, you had closed the gap between you two, your hand closing around his tie to yank him down to your level, your lips crushing against his. He freezes for a second, not understanding what happened, and then with a groan he settles into your kiss. But you were far from forgiving. You bodily push him against the wall, feeling the planes of his muscles tense against yours. In no mood for softness, you lead him by the tie roughly, making your way toward the bedroom. You aren’t dainty by any means, a thick, sturdy woman, your thigh muscles rippling with every movement you make, vitality and power in every inch of your frame. If it was a contest of sheer, raw strength, Nanami would win, however, at the moment he is so stunned at the way you shepherd him into the bedroom with such robustness he’s only ever seen on missions, that he doesn't have the presence of mind to fight you back.

You’re all teeth and harsh movements, biting his lip hard enough to draw a little blood, his gasp only spurring you on, your hands pulling off his clothes, a few buttons popping off his shirt in the process, shoving him back onto the bed. Red lips attack his neck, leaving a trail of hickeys as your frustrations over this week break out and let loose. Straddling him, not bothering to undress, you undo his belt buckle, unzipping his slacks and his cock pops up, at attention, already leaking precum from the swollen tip. Without pausing to think you hook your panties to one side, taking him in between your velvety folds, and hear him take a strangled breath of air before roughly grabbing his hair, pulling his head back to expose his throat. You lean forward and your tongue laves over his skin, teeth grazing his Adam’s apple, before riding him to a sharp simultaneous orgasm that had both of you sweaty and clinging to each other as it ripped through both of you.

“I’m sorry,” you’d muttered a few minutes later, as the high wore off. Nanami is lying on his back, wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling. What had occurred felt so sinfully surreal, that he couldn’t quite convince himself it had really happened. All these years, enjoying the act of making love, of letting him take the lead, nothing could have prepared him for this angry side of you, the unbridled passion and aggression you had displayed tonight.

“What?” he rasps, forcing himself to focus. His neck and shoulders are covered in bite and lipstick marks from where your mouth had attacked him. He turns to face you and pushes some hair back behind your ear. The contrast was ridiculous, him in his opened slacks, cock limp from climax, you still fully clothed in your dress, panties discarded after you’d had your way with him.

“I said I’m sorry.” You nuzzle closer to him, feeling regret wash over you as you remember how angry you were earlier. “I just…it was either this or me punching something,” you admit with remorse for your ire earlier. “I hate us fighting Kento. Can we promise to not carry over our emotions from work into our home? Home is supposed to be our safe space.”

He wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you against his chest. “Of course my love. I’m sorry too.” He kisses your hair, smells your perfume, and sighs contentedly. At least the horrible week had ended.

Later in the shower, you apologized over and over, gently washing away the lipstick marks, pressing soft kisses over the angry red hickeys that dotted his neck, and offering to put concealer over them to save him from embarrassment at work.

“I won’t let myself lose my temper again like this. Sex should be fun. I don’t want to do it because I’m mad.” You run the shower pouf over his shoulders, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn lipstick mark.

“It’s nothing I can’t bear darling,” he’d murmured into your ear as he held you closer, the water soothing on his skin. His head was still reeling from the way you had handled him, his lip still stinging slightly from where you had bitten it.

“But still. I’m not proud I did this to you.” You rub your thumb to get the lipstick to break up, staining his skin crimson. Nanami is not a difficult domestic partner by any means. Your chores, errands, and bills were divided equitably, and on top of that, he enjoyed being the one who cooked, your lunchbox sealed and ready to go every day. The guilt from the thought that you had actually wanted to inflict pain on him, even for the briefest second, made your eyes tear up.

His heart squeezed uncomfortably in his chest and he gathered you close, stroking your wet hair. “ I’m fine y/n, really. Look, it was an absolute shit show of a week for both of us. Can we just focus on having a nice weekend together? Let’s get breakfast tomorrow morning.”

You had wiped away your tears and held him close. “That sounds perfect.”

Two weeks had passed and neither of you had spoken about that night again. A breakfast date and watching movies together had cleansed the ominous aura that had been hanging over the apartment and things went back to normal.

Except now, Nanami was consumed with thoughts about how the sex had been that night. He secretly craved that roughness again, the direct initiative you had taken, a contrast to the endearing way you’d subtly drop hints, flitting about the apartment flirtatiously, smiling innocently until he scooped you up and took you to bed. Sometimes, he felt ashamed of himself as he remembered the circumstances that had led to that night. The aggression was merely because you had been so pissed off you had used both your bodies as a way of cathartic release. Remembering your guilty tears was enough to push away any thoughts he had of wanting to recreate that night. Well…mostly anyway.

Was there a way he could engineer that situation again but remove the factor of guilt from it so that you’d feel justified in your actions? He pondered as he chopped vegetables for your lunch, deftly throwing them into the wok with a touch of ginger and oil. As he sautees, his mind wanders in several directions. He could just ask. But that somehow took away the appeal of it, the spontaneity of the actions, and based on your previous reactions, you would probably tone them down unintentionally.

He mulls over his other options, tossing noodles in with the vegetables, giving everything a good mix, then hisses softly as his thumb comes into contact for a brief second with the side of the hot wok, the memories from that night making him careless. Cursing, he goes to the sink to run it under cool water, sighing. A small sliver of skin was turning an angry shade of pink as the water ran over it. This may be getting out of hand.

The accumulation of little despairs is what makes a person an adult.

He reminds himself ruefully as you wander into the kitchen fresh-faced and ready to tackle your day. “Kento! Are you all right?” You join him at the sink, concern in your eyes at the burnt digit.

He grunts reassuringly, taking in your sweet face and questioning his thinking. Your soft hands gently lift his and press a kiss to the finger. “You need to be more careful.” You wander away to make your coffee and Nanami struggles to get his thinking into line. You’re not one quick to get angered. What was he doing, imagining ways to bait you into losing your temper with him? He shakes his head and tries to carry on with his day.

He lasts another hour before the intrusive thoughts start again. This was not going productively at all. He rests his head against the desk, piles of paperwork reminding him that he had his work cut out for him, yet…

Could I slowly accumulate little mistakes to make her mad?

He stares out the window, contemplating. He could…could…stop being the equitable partner he’s always been. Stop doing things one by one until…did he dare? Deep inside there’s distaste for the idea. He’d never been one for bringing difficulties to his fiancee. Yet the memory of your hands yanking his hair, the initiative you had taken while riding him senseless…He grits his teeth as his cock twitches.

It starts with him not preparing lunch for you the next day. You wander into the kitchen, noting the absence of the usual delicious fragrance that should have filled it by now, and see him at the table, a cup of coffee in hand, reading something on his phone. You pad over to him inquisitively, sitting down on the other chair.

“Kento? Is everything all right?” Your fingertips touch his and he feels a twinge of guilt as he looks at your face but he persists. “All fine. I just didn’t feel like cooking today.”

A slight look of puzzlement, and then you nod understandingly. “It has to get tiring, doing it over and over every day. You spoil me.” To his surprise, you press a kiss on his cheek. “Take a break today. I’m fine throwing together a quick salad. Shall I bring takeout for dinner?”

Not the reaction he was expecting. “Ah, yeah. Sure.” He watches you put together your salad. He needs to up the ante.

Next, he decides to start leaving his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor right next to the hamper. He cringes at the sight but forces himself to leave it there. You diligently pick them up every night before sleeping, a slight frown on your face but choose to ignore it.

It escalates to no vacuuming, not taking out the trash, and leaving the freshly folded piles of laundry you left on the bed stacked on the floor. He sees you picking up the slack for two weeks, restraining himself from jumping up and helping you as you go through the apartment looking for things that were out of place. You looked fatigued as you quickly threw together things for your lunch in the mornings. Surely you would crack soon? How much more of this were you willing to take?

As he gets in from work one evening, he hears a sob from the kitchen and walks in to see you standing at the sink filled with dirty dishes. As he approaches, you whirl around, and he waits, thinking this is it…before you burst into tears and brush past him into the bedroom.

Shit shit shit shit.

“Y/n!” he calls, hastily following behind you. Your bedroom which used to be so neat looked unkempt and cluttered. You stand near the foot of the bed, shoulders shaking as you try to gather your thoughts, tears choking your throat.

“Are you trying to break up with me?” Your voice is small, the words clipped and shaky.

Fuck.

“No!” he steps towards you trying to pull you to him but you step out of his reach.

“Then what the fuck is going on?” You wipe away a tear and look at him with uncertainty. “I thought you were tired and just needed a break but I am one person! I come home just as tired as you, and now I’m just doing all the chores? All the cooking?”

Your last words break him. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?”

Wow, he had miscalculated this so badly.

“No. Oh no my love, no. Come here.” He manages to grab your upper arm and coaxes you to him before you start sniffling against his chest. He pats your back gently, hoping you’ll calm down.

“Then why? Is there something you’re not telling me?” Your voice pipes up tearily against the wall of his chest. Nanami runs a hand over his face. This did not pan out the way he was hoping at all.

“It’s not anything you did. I was being stupid.”

“Why were you being stupid?” Nanami feels like his tongue is tied in knots as you ask. He doesn’t say anything, trying to give himself time. You look up at him, tears drying and leaving tracks on your face.

“Were you doing all this intentionally?”

He tries not to flinch at your words but his heart skips a beat and can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes. You break away from his embrace, arms crossing over your chest. He was so bad at acting and you were fed up.

“Nanami Kento, you will tell me this instant.” Your voice is demanding. “Were you doing all this intentionally?”

Well, she’s mad NOW.

Guilt evident all over his face, Nanami finally confesses. “Yes, I did it all intentionally.”

“Why?” The word hits him like a bullet. With a groan, he admits his motive.

“I was trying to make you mad.”

The scrutinizing way you look at him brings back the feeling of shame but at the same time the anger…he feels a vague shadow of arousal fall over him but he clears his throat and continues to look apologetic.

“You were trying to make me mad…on purpose?” Taken aback, you gape at your fiance. Surely he was joking? Yet you find no signs of him bluffing, his expression a mix of shame and regret.

“Yes.” Trying to save face he hastily adds, “It wasn’t for a good reason either, so I’d rather not delve into it.”

“No no no.” You point an accusatory finger at him. “ I deserve an explanation. You went from being the man my friends envied me for having to a man-child that most of them would’ve dumped. What were you trying to achieve by getting me mad?”

He swallows nervously, wondering if there was any combination of words he could string together for this to sound rational. The scowl on your face only further reminds him of that fated night and he internally feels himself realizing that he truly was backed into a corner. Silence falls deafeningly between you both as you glare at him, waiting. In an uncharacteristically small voice, he admits the truth.

“Because you’re hot when you’re mad.”

Your brows knit in bewilderment. “What?”

“You’re hot when you’re mad. And it…makes for even hotter sex.” Nanami avoids eye contact, feeling a blush creep into his face at the admission, thoroughly shamed.

Rendered speechless, you stare at him. “Excuse me? You’re not really saying…you enjoyed that night? We were both pissed at each other! You Liked that?”

“Yes.” With a groan, Nanami turns away feeling reprimanded. “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t stop thinking about it.” “Can’t stop thinking about it? Was it really that good?” You ask incredulously. Despite the absurdity of the situation, a strange twinge of pride fills you. You recall the look of shock in his eyes as you rode him that night, hips slamming furiously into his, the sound of skin-on-skin echoing through the bedroom.

“I can’t explain it!”

You pause, eyes narrowed, an idea coming into your head, and walk over to your fiance, compelling him to turn around.

“What did you like about it?” you question, injecting soft venom into your voice. Nanami hesitantly looks at you, not recognizing that tone; it is oddly menacing yet tempting.

“I don’t know, the roughness? The initiative?” He shakes his head knowing he’s digging himself into an even larger grave now.

“Roughness? You enjoyed me grabbing you?” Your fingers flirt with the edge of his tie. His eyes take in the little action, unsure what to expect.

“Well? Tell me.” You jab a finger into his chest and his heart starts to race. “Did you enjoy that?”

“I-I may-have-”

“Huh. I can’t believe it. Me being soft. And loving. And you wanted to be manhandled all this time?”

“Not always!” A drop of panic settles into his chest. “ No, I-”

Your grip on the tie tightens and you repeat in that sweetly dangerous voice laced with toxicity, “Don’t change the subject. Did you enjoy that?”

When he doesn’t reply you pull down on the tie until he’s slouching to be at eye level with you. “Well, you’ve pissed me off for long enough. Spit it out. You’re enjoying this right?” Your eyes appraise him, seeing the way he’s flushed, lips in a tight line, flustered. You couldn’t recall a time when you had seen him like this; it was oddly thrilling.

Swallowing, praying he wasn’t making this worse, he says in a hushed voice, “Yes.” A skitter of electricity runs through him as he says the word, blood rushing to his ears causing them to turn red. Little licks of desire sweep into his veins as he sees you, poised, grip firm on his tie.

“Well, don’t you feel better now that you’ve admitted that?”

He yelps as you shove him suddenly and he falls back on the bed with a thump. Purposefully, you crawl over him, coming to a halt when your face is in line with his. You straddle him as you sit on his chest, feet planted firmly on either side of him, looking down on him like a predatory feline, hunting, having snared something scrumptious.

An unexpected rush of empowerment floods you, seeing your tall, burly, incredibly handsome fiance looking up at you in shock, a slight speck of fear in his eyes which didn’t hide the way they were darkening with desire. He really was enjoying this. Emboldened by the response, you start pulling at his tie, encouraging him to sit up, scooting down his body so that your crotch was over his until he presses his broad back against the headboard. The blush on his face made your mouth water, wanting to bite and chew at every inch of him like a spring apple.

“Are you shy?” There’s wonderment in the back of your head as you hear the slightly mocking tone with which you asked it. “You weren’t shy when you saw me running around every morning throwing my pitiful salad together. You weren’t shy when you saw me taking out the trash. You weren’t shy when you put all that neatly folded laundry on the floor.”

You can feel him hardening under you, cock straining against the fabric, brushing against the panties under your skirt. You can see his brain working underneath his beautiful locks of blond hair, scrambling to find something he could say to redeem himself. You also knew he had no excuse. Nanami was not a man of excuses. He was a man of convictions and apologies. He knew when he was out of line. And perhaps this time had bitten off more than he could chew.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, struggling to maintain eye contact because it was so embarrassing to apologize when he was rock hard, under you, at your mercy.

“Don’t be. Now I don’t have to feel guilty for this.” Your mouth captures his in a demanding kiss, teeth clashing against his, taking hold of his delectable lower lip between them, tasting the tang of blood as he groans. Your hand leaves his tie to take over his hair, yanking his head back forcefully, hips seductively rising and falling against him, the friction between your clothes making it hard for him to think straight.

You grab his lower lip between your teeth and scrape over them several times, not too harshly but until they start to become plump, looking bee-stung, the cut from earlier looking like an innocent little gumdrop. He strains under you, body tense, his blood humming from your actions. He’s thrusting up into you already even though you’ve barely begun. Abandoning his lip you move to his ear, still keeping hold of his hair, directing the angle of his head so that you have the best access, sinking your teeth into the soft lobe, his gasp sending a spear of lust straight to your core. You pull and he whimpers softly, his hand fisting the back of your shirt.

One-handed, you loosen his tie and then start undoing his shirt buttons. His head moves slightly to see what you are doing and you ruthlessly yank on the lustrous locks, keeping him in place, greedily fixing your mouth on his neck, biting the flesh, nimbly choosing random spots to leave your marks. Squeezing his eyes shut, Nanami takes in gulps of air, trying to keep his sanity but his instincts are turning submissive, enjoying the assault on his body, the way your clothed core dances erotically over his cock, knowing he’s leaking precum into his boxers. The hickeys left on his neck make him feel like he’s being branded, claimed by you, as you discipline him for his transgressions.

You lose patience halfway down his shirt and with both hands, pull, causing the rest of the buttons to pop off, falling onto the bed, some rolling to the floor with soft clatters. Pretty manicured nails sink into his skin and run down the hard planes of his abs and pectorals, leaving lines, causing him to take a sharp breath as you drag them down his happy trail, flirting at the top of his trousers, just at the very edge of his caged erection. A groan of longing leaves him and he bucks up, hoping you’ll free him. Instead, you run those nails across the fabric of his tented trousers, pressing into the hardness, tickling him, smirking at the look of wild desperation on his face.

“Not yet. Still have to make up for all those mistakes…Lie back,” you say commandingly. Those words in that tone hit something inside him and he listens, ruined shirt splaying out, tie on his bare chest. You remove the tie and make a quick knot, looping it around his wrists, tightening it, watching his pupils dilate as you do so. You secure it to the bedpost knowing he could break free if he wanted to but he doesn’t struggle. He was lost to the feeling of being used, of surrendering to you.

Your panties are soaked, wetness gathering at the thought of the authority you hold over him, at the way he meekly lays back under your direction, awaiting your next move. You wonder what you could make him do…Your hand dips between your legs and slips down your panties, observing the way he sucks in a breath and it ripples down his chiseled muscles.

“Smell. That’s the scent of a pissed-off woman.” You shove them to his nose and he inhales obediently, the intoxicating smell of your pussy hitting his senses, saliva gathering in his mouth at the thought of how it would taste from the source. His tongue darts out to lick at the patch and you chuckle at his pitiful actions.

“Want to taste it that badly?” You mock him, your hand pressing the panties more firmly to his face, covering his nose and mouth with the fabric. “Answer me.”

His eyes find yours, hazy from experiencing you this way. He nods.

You swallow to prepare yourself for what you are about to do. You’d only done this a few times throughout your relationship despite his insistence on loving it. Irritation at his behavior ruled your whims now. You unzip your skirt and fling it away, picking up your lower body, and hover your sex over his face.

An almost unbearably erotic spasm runs through his cock as Nanami takes in the sight; your pussy, gloriously spread apart, lips dripping with arousal, clit puffy and in need of attention. You were so shy when he’d asked for you to sit on his face before and this was giving him unrestrained delight.

“Eat it like you’re sorry.” Your voice rings in his ears. Under a spell, his tongue flicks out, and he shudders as he tastes the lovely tartness of your pussy. His hands strain against the tie as he makes a long stroke deep inside your folds, from core to clit, causing a sigh to erupt from you. Experimenting, you lower yourself a little more, feeling his nose nudge against the wet bud as he gathers moisture with his tongue, a soft moan leaving your lips as you get comfortable. Wicked thoughts of smothering his face, having him suffocate under the wet heat of your cunt as payback for his stupidity seemed justified as you continue to sink further.

Nanami is in a trance, feeling the moist velvet of your sex cover his nose and mouth. He drinks like a man wandering the desert, lapping at every drop of juice your pussy offers, the eager slurping noises adding to your own arousal. Your hands grip the edge of the headboard and you pant at how sinfully good it felt, feel him angle his head so that his tongue can worship your clit, licking circles on it, pulling at it with his lips.

“Fuck…Kento…” Reflexively your hips grind on his face, feeling everything drip as he finds a pace that sends warm currents of heat rushing through you. Your fingers start to pinch your nipples, before restlessly pulling off your shirt and bra. Nanami’s tongue continues to devour your tender flesh, sipping, savoring all the flavors of your pussy. Your grinding becomes restless and you tweak your hardened peaks, bouncing becoming more selfish and ruthless as your need for an orgasm takes over.

All Nanami can smell is the hot, gathering tension of your cunt, the scent lingering on him and he licks eagerly, trying to absolve himself of being a bad partner over the last few weeks. A loud whine leaves your lips as tension gathers in your belly, a pleasant thrum beginning in your core, the feeling of needing to be pushed into the abyss pooling into your veins.

Nanami’s cock is begging to be released, balls tight and heavy, feeling like he may cum in his pants with the way things are going. A stain is visible on his front from the liberal amounts of precum dribbling from the tip. His hips keep bucking into the air, creating insufficient friction as the sweet sounds of your pleasure fill his ears. He feels every pulse, throb, and spasm on his face as you get closer, your movements becoming frenzied. Finally, he offers his tongue up to you holding it steady as you rut desperately against it, using him as a toy for your own release.

A powerful shudder passes through you and your voice comes out as a shrill mewl, riding his tongue through your orgasm, feeling all the fluids drip from your core into his awaiting mouth, each spasm making you sob with delight. You’re too exhausted to move, thick thighs turning to jello as the orgasm starts to quiet down. It takes a tremendous effort to move off your fiance, sliding down his chin and resting your pussy on his chest.

He looks satisfied, fluids all over his face and he takes in a deep breath of air, expression tender as he looks at your exhausted state. You raise your arm to slip the tie off the bedpost, freeing his hands and they immediately hold your waist, steadying you, before gently rolling you to the side, tipping you off him before bringing you into the expanse of his chest.

You feel your anger ebb away at the gesture, high from the heady orgasm breathing still shallow. His strong hands grip your ass with affection before stroking the backs of your thighs.

“You’re too tired to ride me I guess right?” he asks with a soft chuckle, nuzzling your hair.

“If you’re keeping that night as the standard then yes. However,” you lean up to kiss him deeply, “You still misbehaved. Cockwarming only.”

He looks amused at the authoritative tone you adopt but resolutely responds with, “Yes dear.”

You help tug off his trousers and boxers, finally letting his cock spring free, and he can’t hold back a hiss as the air hits it, swollen and tender, dripping precum as he moves into a sitting position. You crawl onto his lap and both of you sigh as he slides into your slick core, thick and wonderfully filling.

“Kento?”

“Hmm?”

“All that damn laundry better be off the floor by tomorrow morning.”

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