#chubby reader!

[peppermint-monster]

Gyomei Himejima X Chubby Reader!

Warning: Fingering, Cunnilingue, Friends to Strangers to Lovers, FLUFF, Doggystyle Position, Unprotected sex, Nipple play...?, Missionary Position, Size Kink...?, Confession, Touch Starve Reader! (You just miss your Giant man), Voyeur (people be nosy), SoftDom! Gyomei, Basically, NSFW. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, be mindful that I didn't really mention much of the reader's appearance (Besides, she's a female) since I wanted to keep it vague for everyone to relate as much as possible, though it is definitely for the more voluptuous side of ladies. 😊

Please be mindful that the photos are not mine, but the making of the collage is.

MINORS DNI!!!! 🔞🙅🏻‍♀️ If you're not comfortable with this, please ignore!

P.S. All characters are 18 and up.

In the tranquil surroundings of a secluded temple, Gyomei lived a simpler life before he became the renowned demon slayer he was destined to be. The temple always smelled of damp stone, sandalwood incense, and warm rice.

It was humble—just weathered wooden floors and thin walls—but it was full of life. Laughter filled its halls from sunrise to starlight. Nine little voices could be heard, sometimes yelling, crying, or singing off-key, but they were always present.

At the center of it all stood Gyomei. A teenager, barely a man, he was broad and gentle and often went barefoot. He found purpose and joy in caring for the nine orphaned children, creating a family out of the remnants of their shattered pasts. The temple, with its serene atmosphere and lush grounds, provided a sanctuary for them all.

A young girl, close to his age, would often visit the temple. She wasn't from that world.

Not really.

Her robes were finer, and her shoes never touched mud. Coming from a home far across town with doors that shut more than they opened.

She returned nearly every day, drawn by something she couldn’t quite articulate. She arrived with gifts of rice, her delicate hands mending the tattered robes of the little ones, her laughter mingling with theirs, creating a symphony of joy that filled the air.

“You don’t have to help,” Gyomei had said once, voice soft as always.

“I want to,” she said, passing him a fresh rag. “Besides… I really like it here.”

Although she didn’t voice her feelings, he sensed the affection she had for him. In return, his heart swelled with warmth whenever she graced him with her presence.

As the evening descended upon the temple, it wrapped the building in a serene stillness. One by one, the children succumbed to sleep, tucking themselves into their futons like little foxes finding safety and warmth. Their gentle sighs filled the air, a soothing reminder of innocence and peace.

The paper walls creaked softly, responding to the whispers of the evening breeze, while crickets outside chirped their soft lullabies, creating a tranquil symphony that wrapped around the temple like a tender hug. She lay quietly, her eyes half-lidded, drawn to the moonlight filtering through the thin wooden slats, casting delicate patterns across the ground. Earlier, one of the younger children had nestled into her blanket, seeking her warmth, and now their small form pressed gently against her, anchoring her in a comforting reality.

Across the room, just a few feet away, Gyomei sat quietly in prayer, his presence grounding and calming. With his head bowed and hands clasped together, he moved his lips in silent rhythm, creating an intimate and sacred atmosphere. She longed to reach out to him, to bridge the space that separated them, but refrained from interrupting the stillness that surrounded him.

Still, a tender hope blossomed within her, yearning for him to come and join her, to share in that comfort. She watched with a mix of admiration and warmth as Gyomei finally exhaled a long, soft breath, signaling the conclusion of his prayers. He murmured the last syllables with a peaceful reverence, reaching out gently to extinguish the flickering flame.

The room fell into a gentle darkness, filled with an unmistakable sense of connection and shared warmth, as if the very air around them was wrapped in an embrace of understanding and compassion.

The room was bathed in moonlight.

With purpose, Gyomei rose from his kneeling position and moved across the floor barefoot, relying solely on his memory. She noted the powerful slope of his back highlighted in the pale blue shadows, the way his muscles flexed beneath the thin fabric of his robe.

He reached the mat beside hers, the floor creaking softly as he knelt down and settled onto his futon with barely a whisper. He adjusted the blanket over the little girl between them, then lay back slowly, mindful not to disrupt the stillness.

She felt his presence. So close.

Turning onto her side to face him, she noticed how his head shifted at the sound, as if he could sense her attention like sunlight penetrating closed eyes.

“Gyomei,” she said softly, careful not to wake the others.

He turned slightly, his motion deliberate and responsive to her voice. “Yes?"

His voice was different—lower, more intimate. It penetrated the dark and settled warmly in her chest.

“You pray every night. Do you ever pray for yourself?” she asked, her tone assertive.

There was a moment of silence, enough for her to catch the gentle rhythm of the children’s breaths.

“No,” he admitted. “Only for them.”

She shifted onto her back, her voice steady. “You should.”

He hesitated, the air around them thickening as he contemplated her words.

The little girl stirred slightly, sighing in her sleep with her small hands tucked near her chin.

“They feel safest when you’re near,” she stated, firm in her belief.

“I don’t know if I deserve that kind of trust,” Gyomei murmured, his voice tinged with doubt.

She shook her head, confident. “You do.”

A pause hung in the air, a moment of understanding. The moonlight illuminated his face, catching the strong angles of his jaw and the gentle slope of his cheek. She wanted to reach out, but instead, she declared, “I never feel lonely when I’m here.”

“Neither do I,” he replied, his voice catching slightly at the end, revealing the weight of their shared connection.

Words fell away, but an electric hum filled the space between them.

Without fully realizing it, her hand moved beneath the edge of the covers. It wasn’t intentional—she simply wanted to be closer. Her fingers glided towards where his hand rested at the center of the futon.

Then there was skin.

The brush of her fingertips met his rough skin, and he did not flinch—his hand opened slowly, a quiet invitation.

She inhaled, paused, then slid her fingers into his palm, tentative yet resolute, asking a question without uttering a word.

He responded by closing his hand around hers.

His grip was large and calloused, yet incredibly gentle, as if the precious girl between them was fragile.

Her thumb pressed into his skin with assurance, and his thumb mirrored the gesture, gliding along the back of her hand in a soothing rhythm.

Silence reigned, but they didn’t need words.

The way they held one another across that child’s sleeping body conveyed everything: ‘I’m here. I feel it too. I just don’t know how to say it yet.’

Their eyes closed, hearts racing, their joined hands resting between their bodies like a cherished secret.

With the sound of wind brushing through the temple eaves, they drifted off to sleep, facing each other in the dark, holding on tightly. They didn’t realize how precious this moment was, nor that it would be the last before everything changed.

Yet that night, in the stillness, she was his, and he was unequivocally hers.

The morning after that night felt like waking from a dream—the warmth of Gyomei’s hand still echoing in hers. In the still hush of dawn, something inside her had shifted. She couldn’t name it, but it had changed her, as if a quiet truth had settled inside her chest—one tied entirely to him.

Sunlight filtered softly through the paper screens, painting golden shapes across the wooden floor. Outside, birds sang gently from the trees. Inside, the temple began to stir. The children woke with sleepy yawns and tangled hair, their laughter spilling through the hallways as they chased each other barefoot across the polished wood.

She had only meant to slip away for a short while. Just long enough to grab a clean robe, a comb, and maybe a shawl for the cooler nights ahead. There was no need to tell Gyomei—he was likely still sweeping the garden when she stepped off the grounds.

She would be back before he noticed.

Or so she thought.

But the moment she stepped through her family’s ornate front gate, an unsettling stillness enveloped her, wrapping around her like a heavy fog. The quiet felt wrong—too quiet. The air crackled with unspoken tension, and the house hummed with frenetic movement, but not the usual kind. There was no cheerful chatter from the servants, no warm aroma of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air.

Instead, urgency pulsed through the atmosphere, a disquieting rush that prickled at her skin.

Then—her mother’s voice, cutting through the silence like a knife: “You’re just in time. We’re leaving.”

She froze on the threshold, her heart racing. “Leaving?”

In the grand front hall, her father stood like a conductor at the center of a chaotic symphony, directing servants as they hurriedly packed crates and sealed trunks. The entire house buzzed with activity—drawers were yanked open and emptied, treasured heirlooms were wrapped in linen and boxed, and furniture was hastily rearranged. Even the delicate porcelain vases that had sat sacred and untouched for years had vanished, leaving only empty spaces—gaps that echoed with unfulfilled memories.

Her bag slipped from her shoulder and hit the polished wooden floor with a soft thud, an unceremonious sound that felt like a tolling bell. “You didn’t say anything about leaving.”

Her mother turned to her, eyes like storm clouds—unreadable and heavy with unspoken fears. “We didn’t need to. It’s already decided.”

“How long?” she asked, dread pooling in her stomach like a stone.

“Permanently,” her mother replied, the finality of the word crashing over her like a tidal wave.

The word hit her like a physical blow. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, frantic and wild.

“No—wait, no. I’m not going. I need to return—my things are still at the temple.”

“You won’t need them where we’re going,” her mother interrupted, her tone sharp as glass.

“I live there now,” she insisted, desperation clawing at her throat. “I help with the children. I—”

“You don’t belong there,” her mother cut in again, the steel in her voice unmistakable. “That was never meant to be permanent.”

“I don’t belong here either!” she snapped, her voice trembling as the weight of her words hung between them like a bitter accusation.

Her father, resolute and unyielding, didn’t even cast a glance in her direction. A servant stepped forward to ease her bag from her grasp, but she snatched it back defensively, clutching it to her chest as if it were a lifeline.

“You can’t make me leave.”

Yet in the background, the ominous sound of the carriage being loaded rumbled like distant thunder. Her mother let out a deep sigh, pulling on her gloves with deliberate calm, as if trying to maintain her composure against an impending storm.

“You’re still a child,” she stated, her words cold and final. “You’ll come because we say so.”

“I’m not a child!” she cried, feeling the heat of defiance rise within her, fueled by desperation.

“Then stop acting like one,” her mother retorted, the edge in her voice cutting deeper than any knife.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Please… At least let me just say goodbye.”

“You’ll thank us later,” her mother replied, voice unwavering and merciless. “We leave now.”

The anguish burned in her chest as she turned away, tears threatening to spill over and betray her. Panic surged within her, a wild beast clawing for freedom. Every fiber of her being screamed to run—to escape back to where she truly belonged. To the temple. To him.

But then—

A hand, gentle yet firm, wrapped around her wrist. It wasn’t rough or cruel; it wasn’t a grasp of authority. A maid stood beside her, eyes shimmering with sympathy, her voice low and kind: “I’m so sorry.”

In that instant, her resolve crumbled, her strength faltering like a flickering candle in a gale.

And just like that, she was led away.

Through the heavy door, out into the world that was suddenly foreign, she was ushered toward the carriage, a dark vessel of her unwelcome fate.

No goodbye.

No last look.

Not even the comforting sound of Gyomei’s gentle voice to anchor her in this tumultuous storm.

Only silence.

And the haunting memory of his hand holding hers, warm and reassuring.

It felt like the beginning of a lifetime of regret, an unwritten chapter that would forever leave her longing.

But deep within, amidst the rising tide of despair, she made herself a promise, resolute and unyielding:

‘When I can… I’ll come back. I’ll find him. And I’ll finish what we never got to start.’

Years later, the temple was gone.

She stood alone before the old temple gates, the sky overcast, cicadas humming faintly in the heat of summer.

It wasn’t how she remembered it.

The garden had become overgrown. The wooden beams faded to gray. The once vibrant laughter of children was now silent, echoes swallowed by time.

She stood there now, a grown woman draped in simple, flowing robes, her heart heavy as she stepped inside the sacred grove, her sandals crunching softly over the brittle, fallen leaves. This place was hallowed, a sanctuary not only for her precious memories but for the essence of who she had once been—and who she had almost become.

Kneeling on the cool, damp grass, her fingers trembled with a mixture of sorrow and resolve as she lit a stick of incense for each child lost to the darkness. The sweet, smoky aroma curled into the air, mingling with her tears, which blurred her vision and streaked her cheeks.

She had asked around and heard the rumors: a demon attack, children mercilessly murdered. Among the dead, a lone boy had survived—labeled a killer, they said, with hands stained a dark crimson, a haunting contrast to the innocence of childhood.

But that was not the Gyomei she remembered. That wasn't the boy who held children with a delicate tenderness, as if cradling fragile porcelain. No, he was a guardian, a light in their lives, and the thought of him now painted with such a grim shade was unbearable.

“I came back,” she whispered. “Like I promised.”

Her eyes welling up, her heart aching. “I’m so sorry… I should’ve been here. I should’ve never left—”

And then she felt it—the air shifted, a subtle change that rustled the leaves and filled her with an unshakeable sense of presence. Quiet footsteps stirred the ground, and the weight of anticipation hung thick in the air. She turned sharply, her heart racing as it skipped a beat.

He was standing just beyond the frame of the gate. Taller than she remembered. Broader. His robes were darker now, worn and familiar. His hair was longer, his face more weathered… and his forehead now marked by a deep scar.

But it was him.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Gyomei...?”

His head tilted slightly, the weight of his unreadable expression layered with an unmistakable depth of emotion. The breath rushed from his chest, as if hearing her voice cracked open a dam within him, releasing a flood of pent-up feelings.

“...It’s you,” he replied softly, the words escaping like a quiet prayer into the twilight air.

“You’re alive… I thought—I was so scared…” she wept, the tears spilling down her cheeks, each one a fragment of the fear that had consumed her during the years apart.

“I thought you left,” his voice thickened, raw with the weight of truth. “Without a word. One day, you were gone. I waited. I prayed…”

“They made me go… my parents. I begged to stay. I screamed. But they took me far away.” The confession tumbled from her lips, filled with the anguish of helplessness. “I couldn’t escape.”

He stood in silence, a storm brewing behind clenched jaws, grappling with the tumult of emotions that swirled in the air between them.

“But the moment I could…” Her gaze locked onto his, eyes shimmering with determination and tears. “When I was old enough to leave on my own, I came back.”

Before she could think, she dashed toward him, throwing her arms around his solid frame. She melted into his chest, every sob tinged with the desperation of their lost years.

“You’re alive… you’re really alive…” His arms wrapped around her slowly at first, tentatively—as if afraid that she might disappear again. But as her warmth melded against him, he froze, paralysis overtaking him for just a heartbeat.

She felt it—the difference.

She was no longer the girl who had left. Gone were the innocent dreams and untested hopes. And he… was no longer the boy she knew, the playful friend; he had become a man forged by hardship and time.

His hands flexed around her back, breath catching in his throat as her curves pressed into him—her softness juxtaposed against the solid wall of his chest, her hips fitting against his form like a meticulously woven puzzle piece. He held her tighter, whispering low and shaken, “You’ve changed…”

Pulling back just enough to gaze into his eyes, her hand reached up, fingers tracing the thick curve of his bicep, gliding over the breadth of his shoulder.

“So have you…” she murmured, her voice thick with newfound intimacy. “You’re bigger. Stronger. And this scar…” She brushed her fingertips gently across the ridge on his forehead, her touch imbued with both reverence and longing.

He flushed under her caress, but she didn’t withdraw. Biting her lip, her palm continued its journey down his arm, feeling the warmth and strength that radiated from him now, broad, real, an anchor in the storm of their emotions.

The space between them crackled with tension, electric and palpable, as her eyes held a gaze that spoke of all the things left unspoken. And then, before doubt could take root, before shame or sorrow could pull them back into their past, she kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t shy. It was a kiss born of desperation and longing, mouths colliding with an urgency that unraveled years of silence. Her hands framed his face, trembling with the weight of love long hidden, and in that moment, Gyomei shuddered, as if her lips had breathed life back into his soul.

He kissed her back, pouring into that embrace all the love he had carried in his heart through every prayer, every swing of his axe, every moment of stillness between battles.

When they finally pulled apart, her hand slipping into his, she whispered, “Let me show you,” a fire blooming behind her eyes, igniting a fierce hope.

“Let me show you just how much I’ve changed.”

He didn’t stop her when she pulled him away, his only response a nod—an unspoken promise that together, they would navigate the uncharted territory of their rekindled connection.

The walk to the inn was quiet, but it thrummed with something unspoken.

Her hand stayed tucked securely in Gyomei’s, her smaller fingers enveloped in his warmth. She walked close, her soft form pressed into his side as if her body was remembering the space it had always belonged in.

He didn’t rush.

Each of his steps was steady, measured, as if even now, he still carried the memory of small feet trailing behind him through temple halls.

The village fell away behind them, the sky dimming into a cool blue dusk.

Just past the last homes and rice paddies, nestled at the base of a gently sloping hill, sat the inn. Tucked in the quiet of the outskirts, it was a place for solitude, meant for travelers who needed silence more than company.

Soft lanterns glowed beneath its awning, the scent of cedar smoke and warm tatami curling in the air.

The front door slid open before they reached it.

An older woman stood in the frame—her yukata faded but well-kept, her eyes sharp despite the softness in her features. Her gaze landed on Gyomei first, and for a heartbeat, she said nothing.

Then, quietly, as if disbelieving her own eyes:

“Himejima Gyomei… You’ve been gone longer than usual.”

She stepped forward, bowing slowly, the motion full of quiet familiarity and unspoken concern.

“I was starting to worry. You never miss more than a day or two without a word.”

Gyomei returned her bow with gentle reverence, the wooden beads at his neck swaying softly with the motion.

“I apologize for the delay,” he said in a low, steady voice. “I… took a different path this time.”

As he spoke, his fingers tightened around the smaller hand in his—soft and warm, curled trustingly into his palm.

“Thank you for receiving us.”

It was only then that the innkeeper’s eyes shifted.

They landed on the woman at his side—curvy, grown, beautiful. Her robes were modest, but they clung slightly from the humidity of the evening, emphasizing the plush curve of her hips and the softness in her frame as she leaned into the Pillar's side.

The innkeeper blinked once. Then again.

Her breath caught.

She took in the girl's face—the gentle expression, the warmth in her eyes, the closeness of her body tucked into Gyomei’s side. The way his much larger hand enveloped hers without hesitation. The ease. The intimacy.

The unmistakable sense of something long-separated… now whole again.

“Oh…” she breathed, a note of realization softening her voice. “You’re her.”

She blinked, startled. “Me?”

“The summer girl,” the woman said, voice laced with fond surprise. “From the estate on the hill. You used to come with your family every year, didn’t you?”

She nodded slowly, surprised she remembered.

“Quiet thing, always sneaking off,” she went on with a chuckle. “We all knew where you were going. She’d wander right down to the temple and follow that tall, gentle boy around like a little ghost who’d found its home.”

Her cheeks flushed, the memories rising like heat.

“I remember,” she murmured. “I never wanted to leave.”

Her eyes softened. They drifted back to their joined hands—his thumb brushing over her knuckles, her arm curled around his.

“Well,” The innkeeper said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Looks like you found your way back after all.”

She didn’t ask any questions. She didn’t need to.

“Room at the end of the hall is empty,” she added, stepping aside. “I’ll see that the other guests keep to themselves tonight.”

Then, under her breath, just loud enough for her to hear:

“About time the mountain held onto his moon.”

Gyomei tilted his head, and she could tell he’d heard it too, but said nothing.

He simply squeezed her hand and stepped forward, leading her inside with the quiet steadiness that had always defined him.

As the door whispered shut behind them, the rest of the world fell away.

At last, it was just the two of them—and the night waiting to unfold.

Inside, the room was still. A single paper lantern bathed the woven tatami floor in golden light. A futon had already been laid out. The soft scent of hinoki wood and steeped tea leaves lingered in the air, grounding everything in stillness.

She said nothing at first.

She stood just beyond the threshold, her hand still held in Gyomei’s—his large, warm fingers wrapping around hers like a vow. Her whole body hummed with the weight of what had passed between them, and everything that hadn’t been spoken.

Gyomei listened with his entire being. The a gentle tension in his shoulders. The way his head tilted subtly toward her breath. The way he never let go of her hand, as though it anchored him.

“Gyomei,” she said softly, tugging him forward, “do you remember that night at the temple?”

He paused mid-step. “The night we held hands,” he answered, voice low and quiet, as if the memory lived just beneath his skin.

She nodded, her heart aching.

“I remember thinking,” she murmured, “if we were ever alone... truly alone…”

Her voice broke off, trembling with the enormity of what was about to become real.

He turned to her, slowly, reverently, and lifted both hands to cradle her face. His thumbs brushed her cheekbones as though committing her shape to memory—careful, unhurried, sacred.

“We are now,” he whispered.

She rose to her toes and kissed him.

This time, it was slower. Not frantic, not rushed—but sure. A reunion not of desperation, but devotion. A kiss that ached with years lost, love stored, and need neither had dared name. His lips moved with quiet reverence, fingers threading into her hair, one hand sliding down to press gently against her spine, drawing her close.

When they parted, her breath shook in her chest. The only sound between them was the faint rustle of silk as she slowly let her robe slip from her shoulders. It fell around her feet in a soft puddle of fabric, leaving her bare beneath the warm flicker of lantern light—and before him.

She saw it then. The way his head shifted at the sound. The sharp catch in his breath. Though he couldn’t see her, he could feel her—her heat, her nervous energy, the scent of her bare skin blooming between them.

She stepped closer and whispered, “I want you to touch me.”

Then, reaching for his hand—so much larger, rougher, warmer—she guided it down her side. His calloused fingers trembled as they skimmed over the softness of her hip. When she brought his hand higher, guiding him over the gentle swell of her breast, she gasped before she could stop herself.

He froze. Breath caught. Voice tight with restraint. “Did I hurt you—?”

“No.” She pressed his hand firmer to her chest. “Please… don’t stop touching me.”

She took his hand again and guided it lower—across her stomach, over the curve of her hip, and finally between her thighs.

He hesitated.

She did not.

She guided his hand directly to the place where she was already wet for him. When his fingers brushed her slick folds, a soft groan rumbled deep in his chest, and something inside him snapped.

He gathered her into his arms like she weighed nothing. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Her arms encircled his neck as he carried her to the futon and laid her down, not rough, but heavy with urgency.

He knelt between her legs, hands never leaving her skin.

She felt his breath graze her inner thighs, felt his hands slide from her hips to her knees, gently spreading her open for him. The reverence in the way he touched her—it undid her more than anything.

His mouth began lower, near her knee. His tongue flicked out.

He started slowly—licking, sucking, tasting the inside of her thigh. His saliva glistened on her skin, his tongue dragging in slow, deliberate strokes that made her hips twitch with anticipation.

He avoided her folds at first, teasing her.

Tracing the crease where thigh meets hip, kissing, sucking, tormenting the sensitive skin. She cried out, hips lifting, but he only moved to the other side, dragging his tongue along her skin, close, but never quite enough.

"Gyomei," she gasped, trembling. “Please… more. I need—”

He answered her with a low hum and pressed a thick finger inside her.

Her hips bucked.

Slowly, carefully, he began to stretch her, his finger curling with intention. Then another joined it, working her open, preparing her. Still, his mouth avoided her core—he kissed and worshipped every inch of the skin around it, making her writhe.

Her folds were puffy, slick, aching. His fingers scissored her open while her juices slipped down her thighs, glistening in the lantern light.

One of his hands slid up her body, found her breast, and began to knead. He pinched her nipple gently, rolled it between his fingers, feeding pleasure into her while his tongue finally slid between her folds.

She sobbed.

He devoured her slowly. Thoroughly. His tongue moved with soft, deliberate strokes. Wide, flat licks that made her whole body tremble.

She could feel her climax building—tension tightening in her belly, her muscles clenching around his fingers.

"Gyomei!" she cried out, her back arching as his mouth locked onto her clit, his tongue flicking, his fingers pressing deep inside and curling just right.

"Yes!" she gasped.

Then, he slowed. Pulled back.

She sobbed in frustration.

“Gyomei… please… I wanna feel so good…”

He lowered his mouth again, lapping at her slowly. His cock ached, throbbing beneath him with the need to be inside her—but this wasn’t about him.

This was for her.

Feeling bold, he added a third finger.

“A-ah! I—I’m—” she babbled, incoherent. Her entire body clenched, her thighs trembling around his head.

And then she came.

Her orgasm shattered her. Her cries filled the room as her walls gripped his fingers, her slick coating his hand and mouth as he drank her down greedily. The taste of her sweet, intoxicating left him dazed.

Her thighs clenched around his head from the overstimulation, her voice barely managing to call his name between broken breaths.

When she finally softened, boneless and shaking, he lifted his head. His face glistened with her release. He smiled.

Then he rose.

He loomed above her now, massive, trembling with restraint. The futon creaked beneath his weight as he settled between her thighs once more.

He held her gaze.

She reached up, brushing the scar across his forehead with reverent fingers. “I want to feel all of you,” she whispered.

“Then I’ll give you everything,” he promised.

And he meant it.

Then he stood.

Slow. Towering. Intentional.

He loomed above her, seven feet of silent reverence, his presence casting a warm shadow over her trembling form. The futon creaked beneath his weight as he climbed over her, the air thickening with anticipation.

His robe hung loosely at his hips, revealing the sculpted curve of his chest, his breath fanning hot against her face. One of his large hands cradled her cheek, rough thumb brushing gently across her lower lip.

“Let me remember you like this,” he murmured, voice soft with awe.

Then he kissed her.

And she melted.

It wasn’t urgent. It was deeper than that—full of quiet ache, heavy with meaning. His lips moved with certainty, reverent and slow, and her body instinctively followed.

Without speaking, her hands found the tie of his robe.

She tugged—gentle, deliberate—fingers curling around the knot like muscle memory from a dream.

He stood above her.

Breath catching.

Not resisting.

She tilted her head back slightly, meeting his face with a shy, yearning smile, the tie still held between her fingers. It said everything:

‘I want to see you. All of you.’

His jaw flexed, his throat worked around a breath—but he didn’t stop her.

She undressed him slowly, the robe parting in layers until nothing separated them. Until he was fully bare before her.

And it made her breath hitch.

He was immense. Vast. His body was carved from devotion and discipline, a cathedral of muscle and scars. Strength coiled beneath his skin like a silent hymn. His chest rose and fell with restrained breath, and though his eyes could not see her, he tilted his head, sensing her silence. Feeling her awe.

His hands, curled at his sides, trembled—whether from nerves or restraint, she didn’t know.

Didn’t care.

She licked her lips without thinking, hunger and wonder glowing in her eyes.

“You’re breathtaking,” she whispered, voice sacred.

He swallowed hard. His body loomed over hers like a mountain of heat and yearning, carefully not pressing into her. Yet she could feel every bit of him—his power, his need, his restraint.

With careful, reverent motions, he nudged her thighs open, his hand trailing the length of her side. She arched into his touch when his fingers brushed the tender dip of her hip.

Gyomei lowered himself, guiding his body between her legs like a man offering worship. He kissed her jaw, then lower, lips trailing down to the curve of her breast.

He paused, listening—feeling—her breath stutter beneath him.

“Gyomei…” she panted, her hands reaching for him, fingers curling around his forearm.

“Are you ready, my sweet?” he asked, stroking himself with slow, practiced motion.

She nodded, dazed with need—but her voice didn’t follow.

And he waited, gently coaxing, “Use your words, sweet one.”

“Yes!” she gasped. “Please… let us become one, Gyomei.”

His heart ached at the way she said it—with such innocence, such desperation.

He kissed her crown tenderly, chest shuddering. Then shifted, lining himself up. She felt the thick, hot pressure of him begin to press into her. Her body, slick and open from her earlier climax, welcomed him. But he was… massive.

Her breath caught.

The stretch stung, his size pushing her limits in a way nothing ever had. Her hands clung to the sheets, her body straining to take all of him. Yet she didn’t pull back.

She took him.

Burning. Shaking. Whimpering with every inch.

Every second pulled the years closer, collapsing all time and distance between them.

He groaned low, his arms wrapping around her—like he needed to feel her, to hold her, to anchor himself in her reality. In the soft heat of her. The curve of her body. The sacred place she’d allowed him to enter.

Their breaths tangled. The futon groaned. His movements are slow, like waves kissing the shore.

Her lips trembled as she whispered his name over and over, each time more broken, more reverent.

“You feel… incredible…” he groaned, forehead resting against hers.

“Gyomei…” she gasped, body rising with every thrust, “I—I can’t—”

He leaned down, pressing his chest against her breasts, one hand gliding along her waist until their fingers laced.

He didn’t answer with words. He kissed her—her shoulder, her throat, the swell of her breast—each touch a vow he couldn’t say aloud.

Their bodies moved in a rhythm of memory and rediscovery, wet sounds and desperate moans filling the air.

It wasn’t rough.

It wasn’t rushed.

It was worship.

“You feel…” he rasped, brushing his lips along her jaw, “…like heaven.”

Golden light from the lantern flickered across the room, painting the shadows of their reunion on the walls.

“I missed you,” she whispered against his neck, voice tight with tears.

“I dreamed of you,” he breathed, trembling.

Later, when her body was pliant and drenched with heat, he gently guided her forward. Without resistance, she followed, allowing him to maneuver her onto her hands and knees. Her breasts and arms cushioned by the pillow, hips tilted back in invitation.

He knelt behind her, and she could hear the ragged edge of his breath.

“You’re perfect…” he murmured, awestruck, one hand ghosting down the curve of her back. “...Every part of you.”

When he slid back inside, she cried out—air stolen from her lungs.

This angle was brutal and deep, the stretch sharp and unrelenting. She trembled, mouth parted around a broken moan. He groaned, one hand bracing her hip, the other reaching down to find her fingers again. Even now, he held her hand.

She grasped blindly, lacing her fingers with his.

Then—

He moved.

Slow at first. Then steady. Then—

Hard.

His hips snapped forward, wet slaps echoing with each thrust. Her moans turned breathless, forehead pressed to the pillow, body trembling with ecstasy.

“Gyomei—” she gasped.

“I’ve got you,” he panted, lips brushing her neck. “You’re mine—let go.”

And she did.

Everything blurred. Only his voice kept her grounded. His weight behind her, his hand holding hers against the mattress, his cock claiming her deeper with each powerful thrust.

Gyomei worshiped her like scripture, touching every inch of her, memorizing the shape of her, from the plushness of her thighs to the curves of her breasts, the softness of her belly, the sacred heat of where their bodies met.

Even in pleasure, he hovered—his massive body braced carefully above hers, his movements mindful.

But she didn’t want that now.

Not anymore.

“Gyomei…” she whispered. “You won’t break me… please… don’t hold back.”

He froze.

Then something inside him gave way.

His grip on her hip tightened, and the rhythm shifted—slower, no longer. Her body rocked beneath him, thighs trembling from the force, slick dripping down her legs.

“You feel…” he groaned, voice ragged, “so perfect… made for me.”

She sobbed beneath him, overwhelmed, shaking, clinging.

One of her legs faltered. He caught her, pulling her upright into his arms. Her back pressed to his sweat-slick chest, her head tilted against his shoulder.

“You said you wouldn’t break,” he growled in her ear, voice cracked.

“Then prove it.”

He moved again.

Thrust after thrust, body against body, soul against soul. The room filled with the sound of their union, moans, and wet slaps rising like prayer.

She felt everything.

His strength. His depth. His need.

“You feel… so good. So soft…” he gasped, each movement stealing breath from his lungs.

Her moans turned wild when he hit that spot—over and over—until her thoughts fractured.

“It’s always been you,” she sobbed. “Only you. I’ve wanted this for so long—”

Tears streamed freely down her cheeks.

Her mouth opened, tongue lolling slightly, a string of drool falling as her body lost control.

“I know,” he whispered, forehead pressed to hers. “I know.”

His rhythm grew desperate, sloppy, her slick coating his cock, dripping onto the futon. He kissed her again, hungry and trembling.

She wasn't kissing a boy she once knew.

She was being loved by the man he had become.

Her climax shattered her.

“I love you,” she sobbed, trembling.

“I love you, too,” Gyomei choked out, tears flowing.

He cried from the fullness of it—from how she felt, from how deeply he had missed her. From the prayer answered.

She called his name, body writhing, arching, pulsing around him. The pleasure was so powerful that it blanked her mind.

He followed.

Her orgasm pulled his from him. He groaned, low and primal, thrusting deep, stilling as his cock pulsed and emptied inside her.

Even then—

Their hands remained entwined.

Slowly, gently, he withdrew. She whimpered at the loss, shivering as his warmth spilled down her thighs—a tangible memory of their love.

He collapsed beside her, breath ragged, silent.

And for the first time since childhood…

They slept in each other’s arms.

No distance.

No years apart.

No child between them.

Just her.

Just him.

Flesh to flesh.

Soul to soul.

Still holding hands.

Bonus:

Inside the room, the air was thick with heat and longing, the futon creaking beneath the weight of bodies rediscovering each other. His deep groans mingled with her soft, desperate moans, echoing faintly through the wood-paneled hallways like a quiet storm behind closed doors.

Gyomei moved with reverent care, his massive frame arching protectively over her soft, curvy form like a temple ceiling sheltering sacred ground.

She was on her knees now, plush hips lifted, thighs parted, her upper body sinking into a nest of pillows. Each thrust sent a ripple through her generous figure, her skin flushed and trembling beneath his hands. He held her as if every part of her was a blessing—his rough palms worshiping the curve of her waist, the softness of her belly, the way her full backside met his hips with every slow, rolling movement.

"You’re… incredible," he rasped, his voice thick with awe as he leaned forward, lips brushing the curve of her shoulder. "All of you—every inch."

She whimpered, a breathy sound that melted into a moan as he laced their fingers together again, anchoring them both in the center of the storm.

Outside the half-ajar door, two maids stood frozen, eyes wide, mouths parted in silent shock, caught between awe and scandal.

"Merciful heavens," one whispered, clutching her broom handle like a lifeline. "He's... he's massive."

"He’s swallowing her whole," the other breathed, stunned. "Look at the size of him—he’s built like a damn mountain—and she’s so… soft."

"Curvy," the first corrected reverently. "And he’s touching her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever held."

"He’s behind her—see how he’s holding her hips? Like they were sculpted just for him."

They watched with their hearts pounding, breath shallow, as Gyomei leaned over the woman’s back, whispering something only she could hear—his lips brushing her ear, his hand gliding down the dip of her waist, his body pressed to hers, slow and sure.

"The way she moves with him... like she trusts him with her whole soul."

"You think she feels small next to him?"

"With arms like those? She probably feels safe. Worshipped. I’d give up my next five paychecks for one night in that man’s arms."

Their breath caught as a new sound rose—a moan cresting into a breathless cry, the air now thick with years of want unraveling all at once.

"Do you think it’s their first time?"

"If it is, she’ll never recover."

"I wouldn’t want to. I'd build a shrine around that man and never leave."

They inched closer, swaying with morbid curiosity as the creaking futon shifted into rhythmic thuds and a sharp cry followed:

"Gyomei, please—yes, like that—don’t stop!"

The maids froze.

"Gyomei?" the younger whispered, blinking. "Wait... Gyomei Himejima?"

The other gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. "The Stone Hashira? That’s him?"

The name rolled over them like thunder, all the pieces clicking into place—the sheer size, the gentle strength, the scars, the reverence in every movement.

"I thought he vanished after the war," the first murmured, heart thudding. "But that's him. That’s Himejima."

"A Demon Slayer," the other breathed. "And he’s... he’s making love like it’s a sacred vow."

The younger maid gripped the doorframe tighter. "Sweet mercy, he’s doing something to her. She’s been calling his name like a prayer."

"He’s worshiping her with everything he’s got," the other murmured, entranced. "I didn’t know monks could even—"

"He’s not a monk anymore," the first muttered. "He’s a man. A very big, very devoted man."

Their cheeks were flushed, hands trembling, hearts caught in the haze of the passion they were witnessing. They didn’t know if they wanted to flee or stay rooted to the spot forever.

"That’s... that’s not just sex," the younger whispered, voice barely more than breath. "That’s someone being chosen. Cherished. Like she’s the answer to a prayer he never dared speak."

"And he’s finally tasting what he’s waited his whole life for," the other added softly, her eyes glossy with unspoken yearning. "If it were me... I’d never let him go."

Just as one of them dared to lean forward, eyes glazed with heat, a sharp voice cracked through the charged air behind them.

"You two."

They whipped around like guilty children, their faces blotched with red, hearts hammering in their chests. One clutched an empty tray like a shield, the other froze mid-peek, terror and embarrassment twisting on her face.

The innkeeper stood firm, arms crossed, gaze narrowed with authority honed over years of managing wandering hands and whispered desires.

"Have you forgotten yourselves? What part of 'privacy' did that creaking door not spell out?"

"We weren’t going to interrupt—" one stammered.

"So is half the inn," the older woman replied dryly. "But curiosity doesn’t give you the right to spy on something sacred."

"We were just curious!" the younger squeaked, still pink with arousal and guilt.

She moved past them, her robes brushing the walls, footsteps silent but sure. When another breathless moan met her ears—followed by a whisper of devotion—her expression softened.

Then she saw them.

Through the crack in the door: Gyomei’s massive body curled protectively over the woman beneath him. She wasn’t clinging to him, but to the pillow beneath her, her fingers buried deep in the fabric, knuckles white. Her expression—visible in profile—was one of open surrender, lips parted, brows drawn together in aching pleasure. Her whole body trembled beneath him, held not just by his hands but by the years of yearning finally coming undone.

Her throat tightened.

Years ago, she remembered that girl—spirited, cloaked in silks, but wandering like someone still searching. Always trailing after the tall, silent temple boy with soot-dark hands and a tenderness that never fit his size. Summer after summer, they returned like a promise unfulfilled. Always together. Almost always.

She reached out, laid her palm gently against the doorframe, and pushed it closed with care. The latch clicked softly, like sealing a secret.

She turned back to the maids, who stood overwhelmed, chastened but still dazzled, flushed with secondhand heat.

"That’s not a show for you to gawk at," the innkeeper said softly now, almost reverent. "That’s years of aching silence… finally answered."

Neither girl dared to speak.

The innkeeper exhaled, giving them each one last glance—part warning, part wistful.

"Let them have this. After everything... they’ve earned it."

And with a final sweep of her sleeves, she disappeared down the corridor, leaving behind only the faint creak of wood and the sacred rhythm of a love that had at last been reclaimed.

[bibbysstuff]

Mc in Lingeries, Li addition

[bunnis-monsters]

Have this idea about reader going to watch porn for the first time in a while. It looks like they’re in costumes, the guy has demon horns and a tail… and he doesn’t seem very interested in the girl he’s fucking.

Honestly, he looks bored and his cock is only semi-hard. The lady’s fake moans echoing through the preview even turn you off.

When you click the video and watch, suddenly he looks into the camera and his cock twitches, getting hard.

Then he jumps through your screen! You somehow clicked on incubus porn, and now you’re being pounded by a sexually frustrated incubus.

Your fat pussy just looks so pretty, taking him so well! He’s gonna have to put a claim over your womb now…

He’s never felt this good before, there’s no way he’s leaving without forming some kind of contract with his cute little human toy!

Should I do something with this idea..?

[cyberrmusee]

thinking about college au bully!suguru

bully!suguru who always picks on you for your cute and overly girl outfits "what? you think you're in a fucking fashion show?"

bully!suguru who purposely invades your personal space and looms over you like a storm cloud every time he's in close proximity just to bother you.

bully!suguru who finds any and every excuse to antagonize you in any form possible, even just 'bumping' into you and making you drop your morning coffee.

bully!suguru who wont let anyone else treat you the way he does, only he is allowed to tease you like that. "say some shit like that to her again and ill f*ckin kill you, got me?"

bully!suguru who snatches your hair ties from you every time he sees them on your wrist. "you don't need it anyways, baldy. i've got more hair, i need it more."

bully!suguru who secretly saves them and wears them under the sleeves of his sweaters and jackets.

bully!suguru who cant stand to see you within the vicinity of a man that isn't him and is jealous and bitter at how happy you look without him.

bully!suguru who sucks at verbally expressing to you how he feels about you, so he expresses it by stretching your pretty pussy open in the janitorial closet between classes.

he had you bent over the janitors desk, giving your sopping cunt deep, powerful thrusts as he placed his hand over top yours and worked his hips. his fat mushroom tip going straight the hilt of your warm, dripping pussy, cock abusing your cervix.

all of your colorful hair ties he'd previously stolen, adorned his wrists. a flutter of bright colors flashed through your vision blurry, tears spilling from your eyes from how his girth bullied your cunt, stretching to make you fit alllll of him and mold your walls for his dick, so that's what he did with em'? your pussy swallowing his fat cock whole as a ring of your creamy slick formed at the base of his cock, which only served to make him harder.

god he should've done this ages ago.

[rissouu]

“say sorry.” choso spat, voice laced in anger as he pushed shoved your legs further apart. you’d been giving him nothing but attitude left and right for weeks now, he was finally sick of it. 

drool covered your face when he shoved himself into you, not even caring if he was being too rough. usually he was your gentle little choso, so sweet and always careful as though not to hurt you.. but this had to be a different person.

“y’think it’s okay to be mean to me, hm?” a rough hand slid up to your neck, forcing your eyes to meet his low ones. your head shook on its own, even your body knew you couldn’t get away with ignoring him.

choso’s head tilted as his hair dropped from the tiny man-bun he once wore, “c’mon use your words mama. i know you can, tell daddy you’re sorry?”

the hand wrapped around your throat made it almost impossible to speak, mixed with the pleasure from his thumb that was circling around your clit.

“p..please cho! ‘m sorry daddy, so sorry!” you threw your head back before placing a hand on his stomach, hoping to push him away. “‘m s..so sorry for being mean. please i can’t take it,”

a low chuckle fell from his lips as he slapped your hand away, pinning it behind your back. “noww you wanna be nice, where’d my mean girl go baby? you done being a fuckin’ brat?”

you nodded aggressively, feeling your own tears fall down your neck for the millionth time. “‘m done cho, i promise. never gonna be rude again!”

the black haired man grinned at your words, you were so quick to kiss ass if it meant getting him to forgive you, too bad he saw right through you.

“that’s good mama, im proud of you for learnin’. but im not done.. daddy’s gonna fuck this pretty pussy up a little more okay?”

©rissouu 2025 (happy fucking new years to all my babies, ya girl is backkk!! #weluvdomchoso)

[merakidoll]

sukuna loved to say “whatcha runnin from” whenever he knew you couldn’t handle it. your face smashed in the pillow while he fucked into you roughly. not a gentle bone in his hips as his balls smacked again your pussy, making your legs shake a little bit more. sex with sukuna was like a rollercoaster. it felt so good, the rush of everything- but in the end you would still scream, saying it’s enough knowing you wanted to ride it one more time. “tell me you love me precious” his rough hands rubbed your back deeping your arch. “l-love y-ya”

your brain was mushy just like your pussy. your nails clawing at his dark satin sheets trying to take some out, but it never helped; in fact it only made him go harder. angling his foot up to push his thickness down your hole more and more. every vein bumping against your gushy walls. cream seeping from where you both connected. “you love who?” this was all a game to sukuna, he loved getting on your nerves. “youuuuuhh fuck!” you ass cheeks clenched together, big silky white globs of cream making a messy on the pretty cock and sheets. grunting, sukunas balls scrunched, his dick jerked, and the smirk on his face only grew.

“don’t know a you baby” his pumps grew weaker but faster. him desperately trying to chase the high. your pussy opened and closed around him. your hiccuped moans making the moment so much pleasurable. and as you screamed his name, his cock filled your pretty pussy with all it had to give.

“i love sukunaa!”

[levisjinchuriki]

more to love - toji fushiguro

summary: toji loves a curvy woman and isn’t shy about it

warning: nsfw, curses, praise kink, dom!toji, chubby reader, body worship, afab reader, mention of female anatomy, mention of cunnilingus, backshots, petnames, spanking, booty rubs, fluff, smut, overstimulation

toji has always been a man who knows exactly what he likes, and when it comes to women, curves are at the top of his list. he’s noticed the weight you’ve put on recently and how your clothes hug you more than usual. when you’re near him, the way your curves catch his gaze doesn’t go unnoticed. every time you walk by, he can’t help but let his eyes roam over you, savoring the shape of your body, the way your hips sway and how your curves fit perfectly in the clothes you wear

toji can't help but bring you into his lap when you walk past him in your– now form-fitted– pajama pants. “you’ve been filling out, huh?" he asks as he gropes your thighs. everywhere i look, you’re getting even softer. these pants fit you perfectly now”.

toji's touch becomes more insistent. he’ll slide his hands under your shirt to feel your stomach pudge, loving how soft and squishy it is. “so pretty, mama. can’t get enough of you”

toji isn’t shy about making you aware of his appreciation for the changes in your body. the softness, the fullness—it’s all his to claim. the way toji touches you—unapologetically, with no room for shame— makes you feel so sexy. while you straddle his lap, his touch is possessive as he feels your hips, your stomach and your back rolls. “fucking perfect” he growls as he takes greedy handfuls of your ass

toji likes to absentmindedly rub comforting circles on your butt as you lay with him. you’ll be watching tv, laying on his chest and slowly falling asleep as he softly rubs you there. it's more of a comfort thing for him.

toji likes to take a nap on your stomach since he claims it’s the perfect pillow. he also is a sucker for your thighs and often rests his head against one as he cuddles your leg. when you run your fingers through his hair, he’s done for– falling asleep almost instantly every time

toji in the bedroom is another beast, and there’s no question where his hands will wander. he’ll make sure that ass is front and center, exploring, groping, teasing, and worshipping. toji will pull you into him, sliding his hands over her curves, especially when you’re bent over for him. he likes the control he has when his hands are on your hips, guiding you, making you move to his rhythm. he'll give you a few sharp smacks, especially if you’ve been teasing him with your movements. 

toji’s hands splay over your skin as you arch for him. he moves to caress the curve of your lower back before sliding lower, over the swell of your hips. he leans down, his chest brushing against your back as his lips press a searing kiss to your shoulder. “you feel so fucking good” he moans low and husky. his lips trail down your spine, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the way. his teeth graze your skin, playful and teasing while his hand slides over your stomach to hold you steady. “stay just like that” he commands softly. the way he holds you, the way he presses into you—it’s all-consuming. he knows exactly how to take his time, alternating between rough and tender, making you dizzy.

toji's backshots are mean. the grip on your waist is harsh as he lets out a low groan. his eyes lock on where you two meet and he’s almost hypnotized by the way your skin ripples under his movements. he feels too good that you can’t help but squirm in his grasp. “uh uh, c’mere” he mutters, his hands pressing down on your back to force a deeper arch that has you gasping. “where you goin’, huh?” he asks as he gives you a few spanks. the angle makes you gasp as he hits that perfect spot over and over. you reach back, weakly trying to push against his abs as you cry from pleasure, but it’s no use. “c’mon, baby. lemme have it”.

toji will tease you even more now since there’s more skin to work with. his lips run along your skin, leaving gentle kisses as his thumb brushing over the edge of your waistband. his lips trail higher, leaving warm, lingering kisses, and your breath catches when you feel his teeth graze against the soft flesh of your thigh. it’s not a gentle nip; toji’s bite is firm, enough to leave a mark, but you’re not complaining. he leans in again, his lips now pressing soft, teasing kisses on the bruised area, as if marking his territory. you can’t help but moan softly, your hands threading through his hair, urging him to continue. the way he’s focused on every inch of your skin, makes your pulse race. toji knows exactly how to drive you crazy, how to make you want him more with each deliberate touch.

toji's dream is to be smothered between your thighs as he eats you out. he loves overstimulating you. he does it on purpose so he can feel you squeezing your trembling legs around his head as he works you through your release. he’ll hold your legs open, kneading at the flesh as he pleasures you. and he won’t stop until you tap out

toji whispers “you’re everything i’ve ever wanted” when he's come down from an intense a few rounds. his hands are on you, lips pressed to your skin, and his voice low and filled with raw emotion. his praises make you feel completely cherished. toji isn’t just touching you—he’s worshipping you, wanting you to know just how much he loves every inch of you. and he makes sure to remind you constantly

—

a/n: thank you for reading!! i wrote another version similar to this, but with chubby toji!! you can read it here!

[tvgals]

himbo! choso who coos at you when he fucks you.

you feel like you’re brain dead, like you’ve been in this position for years…although it’s only been an hour. choso chuckles at your sluggish demeanor, pressing kisses to your face. “hi, baby. . .” he coos at you, kissing your plump lips. you moan out, and scratch slowly at his built back — the one he strains everyday to make sure you have something to hold on to when he has you comprised in this position.

“cmon, talk to me. .” he whispers into your ear, bringing a soft hand down to rub at your tender clit. “makin’ me sad here…” he chuckles, kissing your neck with fervor. “h-. .”you huff out before a moan bursts out your throat once again. “hi. . .” you whine, your hand traveling to the nape of his neck to play with his outgrown hair.

“thank you.” he murmurs, elongating his thrusts as he kisses along your body.

it’s gonna be a loooong night.

[monstersholygrail]

Rare Snow Leopard Hybrid who knows he’s unique and special and only deserves the best. But who’s been sent back to the shelter multiple times for being difficult.

When you decide to adopt him, feeling bad he hasn’t had a stable owner since his previous one passed, Snow Leopard Hybrid thinks you’re exactly the same as the others. He looks down on you, viewing you as just another dumb human.

But when your love and affection makes his tail shot up, swaying side-to-side, and his cock tingle, he decides to have mercy on you. He gives you the blessing of being the one he feeds his hard aching cock into, sinking his length into your tight heat and drooling over how perfect your walls feel all snug around him.

He kneads at your soft belly as he ruts into you like a man possessed, refusing to acknowledge that he’s going feral over a human. But he can’t help it when your pretty fat cunt is sucking him back in with every thrust, forcing his cock to twitch and jerk deeper inside you. He can’t believe how perfect you are for him, like you were made to take his cock. He wonders what else you’d be perfect for…

“I-I guess— Mmph!— that you’ll be fit to carry my litter. Just a human, b-but fuuuck, s’look so pretty all round and swollen with my kittens,” Snow Leopard Hybrid babbles messily, saliva dripping off his fangs and making such a mess of you. It only turns you on more to see how needy he is for you.

His thrusts grow sloppy as he fucks into you with a single purpose of shooting his cum inside you till his seed takes root. Hips swiveling and rutting against you, chasing his pleasure so much he doesn’t notice how he’s hitting that spongy spot inside of you with every jerk of his hips.

When you cum you cum hard, your vision flashing with stars and your weeping cunt clenching down hard around the Snow Leopard. He lets out a long yowl, feeling you suffocate his needy pulsing cock, and he slides down to the hilt before erupting and shooting long thick spurts of cum right into your eager womb. He cums and cums, seeming like it’ll never stop, filling you up to the brim. Only then does he sag against you, bumping his forehead affectionately against your neck, his cat ears tickling your cheek, and trilling softly in your ear.

“Stupid human makin’ me cum so hard… Need’a give ‘er more and more of my loads till she’s pretty and pregnant. Gotta keep my mate all filled up,” Snow Leopard Hybrid mumbles as if you aren’t even there.

His plans for you for the rest of the night quite clear as he quirky rambles about doing anything to make sure his cum takes. And a second later your pussy flutters feeling him start to grow hard again inside of you.

[2cupids]

fwb!bakugo is the only guy that’s made you cum from penetration alone. mdni (17+).

one minute some broken sentence is leaving your mouth about how he’s too deep, and the next you’re seeing colors as your pussy squeezes tightly around him.

katsuki slows down, hand still pressed against your lower tummy to feel the outline of his cock, as he watches you with a crooked grin. his already inflated ego growing bigger.

nearly a minute has passed and your walls are still pulsating with satisfaction around his thick dick. he almost grunts, but he quickly covers it by grumbling about how it’ll take more than that to make him cum this quick.

the after shocks of your orgasm are still flowing deeply through your body and katsuki never stops fucking you through it, not even once. crimson eyes stay glued to the blissful expression on your face, waiting for the moment he can resume his bruising rhythm again.

the second you give him the go ahead, his hips are bucking into yours—just like before—propelling your body forward on the bed.

“what were you bitchin’ about again?” he chuckles. his curved dick and brushes over your gspot again and draws another moan from you.

“doesn’t matter. if i hear you open that pretty mouth again and you’re not telling me how much you love this dick?” he growls. “i’ll fuck that attitude outta you. have you beggin’ me to stop ‘cause this pussy can’t handle it.”

your blood runs even hotter than before with increased arousal from his words. a warm hand glides up your body, grazing your breast in the process before he takes your chin between his fingers.

“that’s a promise.”

[nanamisgirly]

summary ✧ The campus womanizer who enjoys fucking anyone, his nerdy bestie is the total opposite, and far from his usual style. So why is he feeling...jealous, when she starts dating the sweet stem boy?

pairing ✧ chubby!nerd!fem reader x womanizer!geto

content ✧ fluff, mid angst, friend to lover, mention of bi geto, geto fucking anyone, not virgin reader but she didn't fuck that much, reader getting in relationship in front of geto, a lot of jealousy, reader cheating on her actual bf, p in v, creampie, enormous dick geto, multiple orgasms for reader, manhandling, multiple position, p€ssy drunk, slight choking, brat tamer geto, pierced geto (even his dddddd and tongue mhhh), overstimulation, rough and jealous sëx, cum play, geto wears rings, geto is mean really, degrading (calling her bitch and slut), pet name (sweets mostly, pretty and good girl), cock drunk, nipple play, unprotected sex, masturbation (both)

author notes ✧ ayoooo my little baby fic ( >▽<) !! thank you for the people who requested about my babies 🙂‍↕️🤞 y'all (or you) did bring this fic closer to my heart.

🌸. Their meeting. 🌸. Introduction of their friendship dynamic. 🌸. That stem boy making everything crumbles. 🌸. Geto destroying your relationship with the nice boy. 🌸. Well, they go RAWWW. 🌸. Aftercare. 🌸. How their relation as a couple goes. 🌸. Trying the new set of bikini you ordered in front of him. 🌸. A matching... piercing?

tag list : open !! comment to be added 💋

you can send asks about them if you wanna know more!! I love talking/seeing your perceptions (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

arts cred 0wwllly & chu-cho (ơn tumblr)

[peppermint-monster]

Nanami Kento X Chubby Reader!

Warning: Dirty Talk, Dom Nanami!, FLUFF, Protective Sex (Wrap it up), Confession...?, Mentions the use of toys, Caught, Rejection...?, Jealous Reader, Breeding Kink, Spanking, Breastplay, Hair Pulling, Doggy Style, Missionary, Voyeur, Basically, NSFW. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, be mindful that I didn't really mention much of the reader's appearance (Besides, she's a female) since i wanted to keep it vague for everyone to relate as much as possible, though it is definitely for the more voluptuous side of ladies. 😊

Please be mindful that the photos are not mine, but the making of the collage is.

MINOR DNI!!!! 🔞🙅🏻‍♀️ If you're not comfortable with this, please ignore!

P.S. All characters are 18 and up.

 “I Want To Be Your Wife.”

The words fell into the quiet Tokyo street like a stone into still water — sharp, deliberate, and loud enough to make Kento Nanami stop mid-step.

He adjusted his glasses with a slow, deliberate motion, gaze lifting from the pavement to where she stood a few paces ahead.

She — in an unassuming coat during the cold weather, hands clasped behind her back, eyes bright and unflinching — smiled at him.

A strange little smile. The kind of smile that said she knew something he didn’t.

Nanami narrowed his eyes faintly, as if she were a puzzle someone had dumped at his feet without warning.

“…I’m sorry?” he said at last, his voice low and even.

“I said,” she repeated patiently — slowly, in case he’d missed it — leaning forward with unmistakable glee:

“I want to be your wife.”

He stared.

The fluorescent hum of the streetlight above buzzed in the silence between them.

It was absurd enough that he half-expected to wake up and realize this was just a stress-induced hallucination.

“Do I…” his brow furrowed slightly, “know you?”

“Nope,” she replied brightly, the p of the word popping like a bubble.

She tilted her head, voice warm and breezy as her smile widened.

“You don’t know me. But…”

Her eyes glittered with a dangerous kind of certainty as she grinned wider.

“…I know you.”

That earned a pause — a sharp one.

“…That’s concerning,” he said flatly.

“Don’t be so uptight,” she countered cheerfully, stepping closer — just enough to test his patience — while clasping her hands behind her back as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

She raised a finger, poking his chest lightly, her tone playfully chiding.

“I just think we’d be great together. You — the brooding salaryman-slash-sorcerer.”

Then her hand dropped, and she gave a breezy shrug, the hem of her coat swaying.

“Me — your stunning, perfect, already-committed housewife.”

Nanami’s lips pressed into a thin line. His face remained blank, but the faint twitch of his brow spoke volumes.

“You’re delusional,” he deadpanned.

But even as he said it, a thought irritated him — because what he hadn’t said was:

You’re wrong.

And that annoyed him more than her.

He adjusted his cuffs, turning sharply, intent on walking away and reclaiming what remained of his evening.

“And yet,” she called breezily behind him, gesturing vaguely at herself, “here I am, waiting for you again!”

“I can see that,” he muttered.

She only beamed — the kind of beam that could blind whole cities.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, breathing deep to summon patience, before striding away.

But of course…

Two weeks of her standing outside his apartment every morning — coat neat, hands folded, smile impossibly bright.

Two weeks of her somehow materializing at the exact train door he always used, greeting him like it was their little tradition.

Two weeks of her appearing at the edges of his assignments — behind caution tape, waving that same stupid paper bag of snacks with an expression that dared him to scold her in public.

At first, he ignored her.

Then he dismissed her — sharp words, polite refusals, a cold back.

But nothing worked.

She kept showing up.

Like clockwork.

Like she belonged.

And worse — though he refused to admit it even to himself — he’d started expecting it.

Started looking for her coat on the platform.

Started slowing slightly at the corner of his street because she’d probably say something ridiculous if he didn’t.

It made him angry.

At her. At himself. At how she’d dug into his routine like a cat who’d decided he was hers.

Tonight — after another cursed spirit, another endless meeting, another long day of pretending not to feel how heavy his chest was — he turned the corner home.

And there she was.

Sitting right on his doorstep.

Legs tucked to the side, humming softly to herself, breath fogging the air.

When she spotted him, her whole face lit up.

“Welcome back, darling!” she called, like she really believed this was her house he was coming home to.

That was it.

Something inside him — already stretched thin — snapped.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, eyes narrowing, jaw tight.

She tilted her head, resting her chin on her knees, looking at him as if she’d been waiting a lifetime.

He climbed one step, just enough to cast a shadow over her lap.

“You,” he began, voice low and sharp, “are exhausting.”

She looked up at him, completely unbothered. “You say that every day.”

“This isn’t normal,” he continued, stepping closer, words spilling faster now, sharpened by irritation.

“Following me. Showing up everywhere. Sitting here every night like some stray animal that refuses to leave.”

“I am leaving,” she corrected lightly. “My toothbrush is already upstairs.”

He froze — just for a fraction of a second — because, of course, she’d say something like that.

Deflect. Smile. Pretend this was harmless.

His brow twitched faintly.

“You really think you can pull this off?” he pressed, voice dropping colder — as if he could crush her resolve with enough force.

Her head tilted, eyes locked on his with infuriating calm.

“Yes,” she said.

No hesitation.

No shame.

No apology.

It was infuriating.

And worse — he couldn’t tell anymore if the tightness in his chest was irritation or something much more dangerous.

He stared at her for a long, quiet moment — long enough for her grin to falter before returning full force.

Then he exhaled, slow and sharp, adjusting his tie with unnecessary force.

“…Fine.”

Her eyes went wide. “…Fine?”

He stepped closer still — close enough that her head tipped back to keep his gaze — and murmured:

“If you want to play house that badly…”

His voice was quiet but heavy with warning.

“…Then prove it.”

Straightening again, he tugged at his sleeve, already regretting it — but refusing to take it back.

To his disbelief, she absolutely sparkled.

That grin could’ve powered half of Tokyo.

“Okay,” she breathed.

Then she clapped — sharp and triumphant — before lunging to her feet and grabbing his wrist.

“What—?”

“Okay!!” she said again, louder, already tugging him up the steps like she owned him.

“Let’s go!” she chirped brightly. “You’ve had such a long day — you look miserable — sit down and I’ll make you something warm, okay? Just leave it to me!”

He let himself be dragged forward — more from shock than willingness — watching her throw open his door like she’d paid the mortgage herself, already prattling about rice and miso and how spinach only tastes bitter when you don’t cook it with love.

He followed her in, loosening his tie, his brow still faintly furrowed — but for the first time, he didn’t stop her.

Because somewhere deep in his chest, something whispered:

I wonder what she’ll do next.

----

It became… a routine.

Every morning, just as he finished straightening his tie, she’d appear like a cheerful little spirit haunting his apartment — standing squarely between him and the door.

Blocking his exit.

Arms folded, head tilted, lips already puckered like it was law.

“Where’s my goodbye kiss, husband?”

He didn’t even look up from the mirror.

“I’m not your husband,” he muttered.

“Yet,” she quipped, matter-of-fact.

Sighing, he turned — and there she stood, tapping her cheek expectantly.

“I’m not kissing you,” he deadpanned.

“Then how will you have good luck at work?” she teased with a shrug, like this was common knowledge.

He stared at her flatly. “…I’ll take my chances.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Unbelievable,” she huffed, stomping one slipper-clad foot. “You’ll regret this!”

“I already do,” he murmured dryly as he sidestepped her.

Behind him, her voice carried through the door:

“Tomorrow’s kiss better last longer or I’m filing for divorce!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath:

“…Why me?”

That afternoon, weary at his desk, he opened his briefcase to find the bento she’d packed — perfectly shaped rice balls, delicate eggs, crisp pickles.

And, of course, the note.

Eat up & stay strong today, husband. ♡ You’re loved more than you know.

He stared at it for a long beat.

Folded it. Slipped it into his breast pocket.

Then muttered — faint, but with the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth:

“…Ridiculous woman.”

----

Nanami had only just started to relax.

It had been a long day — overtime paperwork, a stubborn cursed spirit in Shinjuku, and yet another pointless, infuriating lecture from Gojo. At last, though, he was alone.

Steam curled thickly through the bathroom, carrying the cedarwood scent of his soap. He leaned back against the cool porcelain, eyes half-closed, letting the quiet settle over him like a blessing.

For thirty perfect seconds… silence.

Then — the faintest creak of the door.

His eyes opened immediately.

And there she was.

Standing in the doorway.

Wrapped — barely — in one of his towels, clutching it like it was her wedding gown, grinning down at him like she owned the building.

For the first time in years, Kento Nanami was visibly startled.

His shoulders stiffened, back ramrod straight, his eyes sweeping over her automatically — the towel clinging damply to her soft skin, faintly translucent where her wet hair had soaked through the fabric and left it plastered to her chest and thighs.

“…What—” His voice cracked before he caught himself and cleared his throat. “What are you—why are you—”

She only stepped closer, and he caught the way her fingers fidgeted at the corner of the towel — nervous, yes, but utterly undeterred.

“I’m helping,” she announced softly, but with that same maddening little smile, raising a folded washcloth like it was a contract.

He just… stared.

Far too long.

Then his jaw tightened faintly as he found his voice again.

“That’s completely unnecessary,” he managed, sitting up straighter.

“Nope,” she chirped, dropping to her knees on the bathmat outside the tub, already wringing the washcloth in her hands. “You’re not getting out of this bath until I’m done.”

“…This is absurd,” he muttered under his breath — but didn’t move. Not even when her hands — warm, deliberate — pressed the cloth against his back and began to work.

She moved slowly, her touch deceptively confident, smoothing over the taut muscle between his shoulders like she’d practiced this in her dreams a thousand times.

And maybe she had.

He hated how easy it was to let her.

The room was quiet at first, save for the water and the soft sound of her breath at his ear.

Then — low, almost conspiratorial — she murmured:

“You don’t remember saving me, do you?”

His body froze.

“…What?” His tone came out sharper than he intended, his head turning slightly toward her.

She only smiled faintly, still working her hands over his shoulders like nothing had changed.

“That night,” she explained gently. “Years ago. You killed a curse. Just… walked away like it was nothing.”

His gaze locked on hers now — and for once, his brow furrowed faintly, something unsettlingly close to regret flickering in his expression.

“…But it wasn’t nothing,” she added quietly. “Not to me.”

Her hands stilled, her eyes holding his for a heavy beat before she finished softly:

“That’s when I knew. I’d find you again. And when I did… I’d marry you.”

The words hung there in the steam — thick, humid, impossible to ignore.

Nanami exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the water like her confession weighed more than he’d expected.

“…You could’ve just,” he muttered at last, voice lower than usual, “…said thank you.”

She laughed lightly — warm, amused — leaning closer to kiss the crown of his head and whisper:

“Where’s the fun in that?”

For a fleeting moment, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

And then —

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Both of them froze.

From beyond the door came that all-too-bright, infuriating voice:

“Nanami~! You home? Got that file you wanted!”

She blinked, already straightening, her towel hitching higher as she adjusted it, the faintest spark of curiosity lighting her eyes.

“Who’s that?” she asked, already stepping toward the hall.

“Don’t—” he barked, rising abruptly — but she was already gone, padding into the hallway with damp skin catching the light, the towel clinging stubbornly to her hips and thighs.

He swore under his breath, yanking his own towel around his waist as water sloshed loudly behind him.

Too late.

She opened the door — smiling shyly, confused but unfazed — and came face-to-face with Gojo Satoru.

He stopped dead, mid-grin, sunglasses sliding slightly down his nose as his eyes swept leisurely over her towel-clad form.

“Ohhh,” he said slowly, grin widening into something almost wolfish.

Her hands clutched the towel tighter as she ducked her head, mumbling, “…Hi.”

Gojo chuckled lowly, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, his tone all teeth and amusement.

“Wow. Really cute. Wet, too. And here I thought Nanami didn’t have a type — but apparently…”

His gaze dropped — unapologetic, infuriating — and lingered.

“…he has excellent taste.”

She bit her lip, offering the tiniest, awkwardest smile while glancing to the side.

Then —

Nanami appeared.

Storming up behind her, towel slung low around his hips, chest still damp, hair mussed — and eyes sharp enough to cut stone.

Gojo’s grin only widened as he looked between them — her cheeks flushed and fingers knotted in her towel; him, visibly seething and looming like a thundercloud.

“Ohhh,” Gojo said knowingly, as though he’d just solved the world’s greatest mystery. “Now that explains everything.”

Nanami said nothing.

He simply stepped between them, shoulders squared, jaw tight, hand shooting out to snatch the file from Gojo’s fingers.

“Out,” he growled.

Gojo chuckled, eyes still sliding past him to her.

“Don’t be like that, Nanamin. I was just admiring your—”

“Out.”

This time, sharper, his body angled just enough to shield her completely.

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, but not before throwing her a wink.

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous,” he teased, voice sing-song as he backed away down the hall.

SLAM.

Silence.

Nanami’s hand lingered against the doorframe before he finally exhaled and turned to her.

She blinked up at him, still clutching her towel like a shield.

“…He seems… nice?” she offered timidly.

His gaze swept over her, taking in her damp skin, flushed cheeks, the nervous fidget of her fingers at the hem of the towel — and his lip curled faintly.

“…Unbelievable,” he muttered, though his hand settled briefly at the small of her back, smoothing the towel there as he steered her gently but firmly back toward the bathroom.

She caught it — the faint pink at the tips of his ears — even as he muttered darkly under his breath and shut the door behind them.

And for just a second, she could’ve sworn that quiet, simmering sound he made under his breath… sounded very much like a growl.

That night at dinner, she didn’t say anything. Not at first.

But the next morning… she started.

It began with a soft little hum as she poured his coffee.

Then:

“Wow,” she murmured, eyes sparkling as she handed him the cup. “Really cute. Wet, too.”

He froze mid-sip, his gaze narrowing dangerously.

She grinned, already biting her lip to hold back her laugh.

When he ignored her and reached for his tie, she leaned against the counter and added airily:

“…And here I thought Nanami didn’t have a type.”

The tie slipped through his fingers.

And when he finally shot her a sharp glare, she just shrugged innocently.

Which, of course, only made her worse.

For the next week, she made sure he didn’t forget.

Every time she passed him in the hall, she’d drop her voice into that lazy drawl and murmur:

“Excellent taste…” —just under her breath, just enough to make him stop in his tracks.

When she padded barefoot into the kitchen one evening, she even reenacted the scene entirely—stepping into the doorway, one of his towels draped low on her hips, hair still damp, a washcloth dangling from her fingers.

“I’m helping,” she said sweetly.

That earned her a low groan and a muttered curse from where he sat on the couch.

But even then—when she perched on the armrest next to him and leaned close to whisper “Wet, too…” against his ear—his hand still tightened on her waist, just a little harder than usual.

She noticed, of course.

She always noticed.

And she smirked to herself every time his fingers lingered too long at her back or his arm curved almost possessively around her shoulders.

Even as he sighed through his teeth and tried desperately to maintain his composure.

But she could feel it.

And so could he.

This woman is going to kill me, he thought darkly, as she sauntered past him in the kitchen one morning, still humming that infuriating little tune.

But even then… Even then, his hand brushed her hip on her way by.

The next morning should’ve been simple.

Nanami adjusted his tie at the door, the morning light catching on the faint lines of his jaw.

She stood a few feet away, hands clasped behind her back, lips already puckered in that exaggerated way she thought was cute — daring him to roll his eyes and walk out like usual.

But today… he didn’t.

Instead, his gaze met hers — steady, unreadable — and then, quietly, he stepped close.

One big hand settled briefly on her elbow, the other still gripping his briefcase as he leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek.

Warm. Deliberate.

“…Order lunch if you don’t feel like cooking,” he murmured, already turning toward the door.

She lingered in stunned silence long after he left, fingers grazing her cheek, a dazed little smile breaking across her face.

The morning passed in a haze — her humming as she cleaned, touching her cheek over and over like she could trap the warmth there.

Meanwhile, across town, Nanami sat at his desk — pen useless in his hand, jaw tight — replaying the startled way her eyes widened when he kissed her.

Until —

“…Nanami~”

The sing-song grated immediately.

“Out,” Nanami said flatly without looking up.

“Aww, that’s no way to treat someone bringing you a gift,” Gojo drawled, sauntering in and spinning a small black box in his hand before dropping it squarely on the desk.

“…What is this?”

“A stress reliever,” Gojo said brightly. “Since you clearly haven’t defiled that cute little thing on your arm yet.”

Nanami’s brow twitched.

“…Excuse me?”

Gojo only smirked.

“Come on. You’re so pent-up it’s painful. If you’re not going to handle her properly, at least handle yourself.”

Nanami opened the box reluctantly — and froze.

Flesh-toned. Silicone. Obscene.

He closed it with slow precision and pushed it back like it was toxic.

“…You are disgusting.”

“Don’t act like you don’t need it,” Gojo teased.

Nanami adjusted his glasses, voice calm but sharp:

“Satoru. If you ever hand me something like this again, I will break all ten of your fingers before you leave the room.”

Gojo grinned, unbothered.

“Aw, Nanami~ You’ll thank me later.”

“Out.”

Gojo finally sauntered out, whistling.

But as soon as the door shut, Nanami’s eyes fell to the little box — still sitting there — and his jaw tightened.

He shoved it into his briefcase — purely so no one else would see it, he told himself, but even as he snapped the latch shut, his jaw tightened at the memory of your soft cheek under his lips that morning.

And for the rest of the afternoon, his work never quite managed to hold his attention.

That night, when he opened the door, into a quiet apartment.

Too quiet.

No humming.

No teasing voice.

No warmth was waiting for him.

He hung his coat, set his briefcase down — and that’s when he saw it.

The little black box Gojo had left on the corner of the cabinet.

He scowled at it immediately, jaw tightening.

The idea that he, of all people, would ever need something so pathetic was insulting.

He’d told Gojo as much, hadn’t he?

He wasn’t some desperate fool who couldn’t control himself.

But then — his eyes fell to the couch again.

To the quiet kitchen.

To the empty hallway.

And against his better judgment, his mind wandered.

To her.

To her thighs bracketing his hips.

To her puckered lips, eyes half-lidded, expectant.

To her hands on his back, smoothing away the weight of the day.

His pride cracked first.

Then his restraint.

The door clicked shut behind him with a soft finality, the quiet of the apartment settling heavy around him as though even the walls knew what he was about to do. He stood there for a long moment, back still to the room, his shoulders rigid as he stared at nothing, listening to the faint tick of the clock above the bed and the sound of his shallow breath.

And then, inevitably, his gaze slid toward the nightstand, where that damned black box sat waiting for him.

Mocking him.

Small and neat and wrapped with that stupid silver ribbon — like Gojo had known exactly what kind of man he was and tied his weakness up in a bow just to prove a point.

Pathetic.

That’s what it was. That’s what he was.

And yet, despite himself, his fingers moved before his pride could catch up — loosening the knot of his tie, tugging it free in one smooth pull, letting it drop to the floor. The first two buttons of his shirt followed, then three, his hands working automatically, efficiently, as if he could pretend this was just another routine.

But it wasn’t.

By the time he lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bed, the air in the room felt thick, too warm, pressing at his skin, and his jaw was already tight as his fingers hovered over the box.

When he finally opened it, his breath left him in a sharp, quiet exhale.

Even now — even when he knew what he’d find — the sight of it there, obscene and gleaming in the low light, set his teeth on edge. Flesh-toned silicone, soft and slick and waiting for him like something sinful, like something he didn’t deserve.

He hated it.

And yet his hand closed around it anyway.

The first roll of his hips drew a sharp hiss through his teeth, the toy snug and hot around him, not her but too damn close to ignore. His head tipped back slightly, his eyes falling shut as his thighs tensed, his breath catching when he thrust forward again, harder now, his restraint already fraying.

And in his mind — as much as he despised himself for it — it wasn’t his hand anymore.

It was hers.

She was there, kneeling prettily between his legs, her hair falling loose around her shoulders, her lips stretched wide, flushed cheeks and wet lashes, her soft little hands bracing on his thighs as she looked up at him with that smile she always wore when she knew she’d won.

His breath broke raggedly out of him, his hips snapping forward, his free hand curling into the sheets to keep himself grounded as he growled low under his breath, voice hoarse and dark:

“You’d… love this, wouldn’t you?”

The words came sharp and low, unbidden, punctuated by the rhythmic slap of his hips meeting his fist as he thrust harder.

“On your knees…” — another groan tore free, guttural and strained — “…choking on it, smiling at me like that while you…”

The words dissolved into a quiet curse, his jaw clenching as the toy slicked noisily around him, obscene in the silence. He hated how good it felt — how easy it was to imagine her soft thighs pressing against his sides, her hips squirming in his lap as she moaned his name into the hollow of his throat.

“Look at you,” he gritted out, voice breaking slightly as his rhythm faltered for a moment before picking back up, faster now, harder. “Still calling me husband… still blushing like some innocent little girl… but letting me fuck the thought right out of your head anyway—”

Another rough sound escaped him, muffled against his sleeve as his hips jerked forward, his whole body bowstring-tight now, sweat sliding down the back of his neck. His grip on the toy was white-knuckled, his breath hot and uneven as he thrust faster, the slick heat of it milking him mercilessly.

“You’d thank me for it, wouldn’t you,” he snarled quietly, almost like it was a threat, his voice dropping darker as his head fell forward. “You’d beg me to ruin you — call yourself mine while I—”

The words splintered off into another groan, his rhythm turning punishing now, brutal, each snap of his hips shaking the bed faintly as he imagined her beneath him — soft and flushed, gasping his name, nails digging into his shoulders, her thighs shaking around his hips as she whispered that word she knew he hated. Still, she couldn’t resist: husband.

“Say it,” he ground out, low and dangerous, his voice raw now. “Say you’re mine… say you’re my wife while I fuck you through the mattress—”

His breath hitched again, sharp and uneven, his chest rising and falling fast, and he could feel himself teetering at the edge when his eyes — half-lidded, wild with the haze of it — drifted toward the door.

And froze.

Because she was standing there.

Framed in the doorway like a storm about to break — her eyes wide and furious, her chest heaving, her hands fisting at her sides.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t speak at first — just stared at him, her gaze sweeping over him, taking in the slick toy in his hand, the way his hips were still halfway through a thrust when he finally caught sight of her.

When her voice came, it was breathless, trembling with disbelief and something darker — sharp enough to cut through the heavy silence of the room:

“You—”

The toy slipped from his hand with a wet, obscene little pop as he stilled completely, hard and exposed and silent, his chest still rising and falling like he’d just been caught mid-crime.

And she just stood there, her lips parted faintly, her eyes blazing with something wild — anger, hurt, jealousy — her entire body vibrating with it.

For the first time all day — maybe all year — Kento Nanami didn’t know what the hell to say.

And looking at her now — at the furious little fire in her eyes, at the way her breath shuddered through her as she stared him down — he realized something else, something that made his pulse hammer harder, shame and desire tangling in his chest like barbed wire:

He kind of wanted her to come closer.

---

The apartment was too quiet.

When she stepped inside — arms full of grocery bags, cheeks still pink from the cold — she immediately noticed his shoes by the door.

Her heart jumped.

He’s home early?

Her stomach fluttered at the thought — silly, hopeful — and a soft, instinctive smile tugged at her lips as she toed off her boots and padded in.

“Kento?” she called, bright and warm, balancing the bags carefully on her hip. “I’m back! You won’t believe how busy the market was today — but I got your favorite miso and—”

Her words died in her throat.

She froze mid-step, her ears pricking to something faint.

A sound.

Low. Guttural. Muffled.

Her brows knitted faintly as she tilted her head, listening.

It wasn’t the television.

It wasn’t a phone call.

It was—

A sound she didn’t recognize.

And then words.

Low, rough, filthy words carried just faintly down the hall.

Guttural and harsh enough to make her cheeks bloom with heat even before she could make them out.

Her smile faltered, replaced by a tight pinch in her chest.

The grocery bags crinkled quietly as her fingers tightened around them — knuckles whitening — before she set them slowly on the counter.

Her chest rose and fell a little faster.

No shoes at the door… but what if he carried her? Another woman? In their home?

The thought alone sent a rush of hot, irrational jealousy burning through her veins.

It gripped her chest like claws, her pulse hammering in her ears as she moved.

Her feet quickened on instinct, silent and sharp, her weight balanced toward the balls of her feet as she padded down the hall — every step quiet but charged.

Her breath came faster now, her lips pressing together tight as her jaw locked, her ears straining—

“Take it,” his voice growled. “Call me your husband while I—”

Her stomach twisted violently.

The world tilted for a split second as fury ignited behind her ribs.

Her fingers curled into fists as her face burned — hot, sharp embarrassment tangled with a dark surge of possessiveness she didn’t even know she was capable of.

Her body moved before her mind caught up — shoving the bedroom door open with a force that rattled it on its hinges.

She was ready to catch him.

Ready to catch her.

Ready to tear them both apart if she had to—

But she stopped dead in the doorway.

It wasn’t another woman.

It was Nanami.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, shirt hanging open, tie loose and askew, his head tipped back in a way she’d never seen before — completely undone.

His lips parted around a harsh groan as his hips rolled lazily upward, thrusting into—

Her breath caught audibly in her chest.

In his hand was a fleshlight — slick, obscene — gripped in his big fist as he thrust into it slowly and deliberately.

His brows furrowed, jaw tight as he let out another low groan — deep and rough — muttering something filthy under his breath.

“…Blush when you take me… thank me while I ruin you—”

The words died on his lips as his gaze — heavy-lidded and dark — finally lifted and locked on her.

For a long, tense heartbeat, the world was still.

His chest rose and fell sharply, his knuckles tightening faintly around the toy.

Her wide, furious eyes glimmered under the low bedroom light — her face burning, hands trembling faintly at her sides.

The air between them was thick, heavy, unbreathable — her disbelief mingling with rage, with shame, with something darker she couldn’t even name yet.

And then it boiled over.

“You—!”

Her hands were already trembling when she let go of the doorframe and stormed into the room — fury blotting out everything else, swallowing her shock and shame in one hot, searing wave.

“You—” her voice cracked on the first syllable, but it didn’t matter because the rest came out as a full-throated yell — “YOU—!”

He froze when she advanced, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. There was a flicker of surprise there — wide and unguarded — but still not nearly as flustered as he should have been, not with what she had just caught him doing.

“Wait—” he started, voice low and even, but she was already moving.

Her fingers closed around the nearest pillow, and she hurled it at him with every ounce of strength she had, straight into his chest.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

The obscene little toy slipped from his hand with a slick, lewd pop, bouncing harmlessly onto the sheets as he sat upright, caught but still maddeningly composed.

“You have me—” (another pillow slammed into his shoulder) “—right here—” (smack) “—every damn day—” (smack) “—and THIS is what you’re doing?!”

“I wasn’t—” he began again, ducking slightly to avoid her next wild swing — and she saw it this time, the faint, dangerous twitch of his mouth upward like he enjoyed watching her fury.

“You weren’t what?!” she snapped, breath coming fast and hot now, cheeks blazing as she grabbed his loosened tie in both fists, yanking him forward and shoving it hard against his chest.

“Thinking about someone else?!”

“No.”

“DON’T EVEN—!” she shrieked, pounding her fists pathetically against the solid wall of his shoulder as he sat there, jaw tight but otherwise calm — letting her exhaust herself.

“I’m right here!” she yelled, voice cracking at the edges now. “I’m right here, and you’re moaning like that for some pathetic little toy?! That thing — that thing — is FORBIDDEN. BANNED. OUT of this house!”

Her breath came in sharp bursts now, her chest heaving as her words finally faltered.

When she shoved herself back, trying to put space between them, her anger still sputtering in muttered curses under her breath, she turned for the door and spat:

“I’m leaving. You can keep your stupid—”

But she never made it.

The door slammed shut with a single, forceful motion, his big palm flat against the wood just above her head.

Her breath caught instantly when she felt him at her back — his heat, his size, his scent — filling the space around her until she felt pinned in place by nothing more than his presence.

“Enough,” he said, quiet but cutting.

She froze under his hand, though her fists stayed balled at her sides, knuckles white.

“You’re misunderstanding,” he murmured low against her ear, steady but sharp enough to stop her next retort before it formed.

“Oh, am I?” she managed anyway, though her voice faltered when his chest brushed fully against her back, pressing her faintly into the door.

“I wasn’t thinking about anyone else,” he said flatly.

Her laugh — sharp and bitter — cracked on her lips. “Then why—”

“Because,” he cut her off, leaning in close enough that his breath fanned hot over the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Because you’ve already gotten under my skin.”

Her lips parted faintly, the heat rushing down her spine drowning the last of her anger.

“I was trying,” he continued, every word deliberate now, heavier than the last, “to get you out of my head. To stop thinking about how you’d look… how you’d sound… how you’d feel calling me your husband.”

Her stomach flipped. The sound that left her throat then wasn’t quite a laugh and not quite a whimper — just soft, helpless, her cheeks blazing as her chest rose and fell quick and shallow.

“…Dummy,” she whispered weakly, almost to herself — the smallest, most pitiful little insult she could muster now.

That stopped him — just for a beat.

Then a faint smirk curved his lips, dark and quiet, sending something molten straight through her.

“Yes,” he murmured, his eyes dragging over her flushed face, the sharp line of his jaw tightening.

“Yes, I am.”

Then, before she could draw another breath, his arm slid clean under her thighs — lifting her entirely off the ground, making her gasp.

“K-Kento—!” she yelped as he caught the back of her sweater with his other hand and slung her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“Stop fussing,” he said curtly, already striding back toward the bed.

“You can’t just—!”

“Too late.”

Her fists pounded uselessly at his back once, twice, before going slack, her breath hitching raggedly as her body betrayed her — trembling already at how easily he carried her.

When he set her down again, she stayed sitting — trying to stay angry, but failing spectacularly.

One hand came to rest faintly over her chest, where her heartbeat fluttered wildly, while the other clutched the pillow near her lap — fingers flexing around it like she couldn’t decide whether to hurl it at him or shield herself with it.

Her eyes — still hot and glinting — refused to look away from him. There was anger there — bright and sharp — but tangled now with something heavier, something she dared not name aloud.

When he finally reached down, fingers brushing over hers, he tugged the pillow smoothly from her grip and let it fall to the floor, leaving her completely bare to his gaze.

Her breath caught — sharp and quick — her chest rising high as her knuckles curled faintly at her collar.

And he just looked at her — quiet, dark, unyielding — before leaning close enough for her to feel the heat of him ghosting over her cheek when he murmured:

 “That’s what I thought.”

The look in his eyes left no room for doubt.

He already knew exactly how this would end.

The smallest, weakest sound caught in her throat — somewhere between a gasp and a whimper — her sharp little glare faltering as heat churned low in her belly.

Then he moved.

And her mouth went dry.

First came his tie, tugged loose in a single smooth motion, the knot giving way beneath his fingers before the length of silk fell to the floor behind him.

Her eyes followed it down before darting back up to him instinctively — cheeks hot, hand still pressed to her collarbone as though she could keep herself grounded.

But he was already reaching for his cuffs.

One, then the other — fingers methodical as he worked each button free, the faint metallic clink of his cufflinks striking the nightstand.

Her breath caught when the fabric of his sleeves slumped loose against his forearms — his hands tugging it slowly and deliberately until the entire shirt slipped off his shoulders and pooled at his feet.

Her stomach fluttered violently at the sight of him revealed fully above her now — the hard, sculpted breadth of his chest and shoulders, thick muscle running into a long line of ridged abs, all sheened faintly with the kind of restrained heat that spoke of control about to snap.

Her gaze lingered — lower now — on the faint trail of gold dusting his navel, darkening as it cut downward toward his waistband.

She swallowed hard, thighs pressing faintly together.

He caught that.

Of course he did.

And his smirk deepened.

His hands moved to his belt — unfastening it with a sharp, metallic clink, the leather hissing free through the loops before he let it fall.

Then he stood tall again and — deliberately — his fingers caught the clasp of his trousers, dragging them down his hips slow enough to make her stomach knot.

Her breath hitched audibly when both slacks and briefs slid together to the floor.

And when he straightened to his full height — fully bared before her, all sharp lines and raw heat — her eyes darted down despite herself.

And she froze.

There was no way to prepare for that.

Thick. Heavy. Proud.

His cock stood against his stomach, flushed deep at the tip, a single bead of slick already glinting in the low light.

Her lips parted faintly as her hand flew to her mouth — muffling the smallest, softest whimper as she stared helplessly.

His length twitched faintly as though in response to her attention — and her thighs squeezed tight enough for her hips to lift faintly against the mattress.

His smirk darkened at the sight, his fingers brushing slowly down his stomach to the base of himself, curling there as though to wordlessly remind her exactly how much waited for her.

Then he moved.

Stepped forward — between her knees — his palms finding the soft curve of her thighs as he guided them open, heat and strength slotting neatly between them.

Her breath hitched when one of his hands slid up, curling under her knee to drag it over his hip — her body opening for him with a soft gasp.

And then he pressed.

Not just his hips — him — thick and hot and solid, nestling snugly between her thighs, pressing down against the soaked cotton clinging to her puffy, slick folds.

The faint drag of him over her center made her whole body jolt faintly — a helpless, high sound slipping from her throat as he rolled himself again.

His weight bore her deeper into the mattress as he let her feel every inch of him through the damp barrier — letting her register just how badly the thin fabric failed to shield her from him.

“…You’re big…”

The words slipped out soft and incredulous — her cheeks blazing as she realized she’d actually said it aloud.

That earned her a quiet, cruel laugh — low in his throat — as his lips descended to her jaw, open and warm as his teeth scraped along the delicate skin there.

“You’re just noticing that now?”

He shifted his hips again, deliberately slow, grinding himself into her covered heat just enough to make her back arch slightly against him.

“Too late to be shy about it, isn’t it?”

Her fingers clung to his shoulders helplessly as he repeated the motion — his cock dragging firmly over the soaked fabric, each subtle press making the cotton cling tighter, the shape of her folds pronounced under the weight of him.

When he caught her whimpering softly into his shoulder, his mouth found hers again — open and hot, claiming her lips and stealing the air from her lungs.

And as she clung to him, her legs instinctively tightening around his waist, her hips lifting faintly into the rhythm of his slow grind, all she could think — all she could feel — was how much more she already craved.

Even as she pretended she wasn’t already surrendering.

And he knew.

Of course he did.

The way his hands tightened faintly on her thighs, the way his cock dragged again over her slick panties, the way his lips curled faintly against her jaw before he bit down softly — all of it told her he already knew how it would end.

And she hated — and loved — that she already did too.

The heat between them now was unbearable, pressing down in the silence of the room.

Her breath was a shallow thing, catching every time his eyes dragged over her. Her fingers flexed faintly where they still rested against her chest, her thighs instinctively squeezing as he leaned over her — close enough to feel his warmth radiating, close enough to count the faint golden strands of his hair where they fell across his forehead.

Then he moved — leaned down — his nose brushed her cheek before his mouth claimed hers.

Not soft.

Not gentle.

Hot and consuming, stealing her breath as his weight pressed her deeper into the mattress.

She gasped against him — but his mouth swallowed the sound, his tongue parting her lips without hesitation, kissing her like she’d already said yes.

Her hands clung to his shoulders at first, then slid higher into his hair when he deepened it — open-mouthed and sensual, almost punishing in the way his teeth grazed her bottom lip, in the way his hips shifted and his cock dragged thickly over the wet fabric stretched between her thighs.

When he finally broke the kiss to breathe, she hardly noticed — because his mouth was already at her jaw. Hot, open-mouthed kisses marked her there. Then her ear. Then down the side of her neck — his tongue teasing, his teeth catching softly until she let out a shuddering little whimper, clutching the back of his neck.

“You like that?” he murmured against her skin, though he didn’t wait for an answer — his lips already dragging lower.

Her back arched before she even realized what he was doing — her chest rising toward him instinctively when he slid one big hand under her blouse and pushed it upward. His other hand deftly unhooked her bra, and then her blouse and bra straps were shoved aside all at once, leaving her breasts bare beneath him.

He stilled just enough to look — dark eyes sweeping over the soft, heavy swell of them, the way they rose and fell under her shallow, quick breaths.

“Beautiful,” he muttered low — almost to himself — and then his hands closed over them fully.

She gasped.

His palms were hot and broad, kneading the soft weight of her breasts firmly enough to make her breath catch, his thumbs brushing and circling her nipples until they peaked hard under his touch.

“You feel this?” he asked quietly, his thumbs flicking over her nipples again as her fingers tangled tighter in his hair.

She bit her lip and nodded — though when he lowered his mouth to her chest and closed his lips around one nipple, she cried out.

He groaned softly at that — the sound vibrating against her skin as his tongue flicked and sucked, teeth grazing lightly until her hips shifted beneath him.

Her hands slid into his hair and pulled.

Hard.

And he laughed against her breast — low and dark — before latching again, more intent this time, his fingers digging into the plump sides of her breasts as though he owned them already.

When he moved to the other, he bit softly first, then soothed the sting with his tongue, the slick sound of his mouth on her sending heat rushing straight to her core.

“That’s it,” he murmured against her skin. “Hold on to me. You wanted to prove a point — go ahead. Show me.”

And she could only clutch his hair tighter, her back arching helplessly when he sucked hard enough to leave faint bruises blooming across the soft, chubby curves of her breasts.

Her breath came in hot little gasps now, her hips rocking faintly of their own accord, her thighs squeezing around him.

And all the while his thick length pressed maddeningly against her still-clothed sex — deliberate and unhurried, letting her feel just how much of him she’d already invited in.

When he finally lifted his head, her skin glistened faintly where his mouth had been, marked and sensitive, her nipples hard and wet from his attention.

He looked down at her like that — flushed and breathless, her breasts rising and falling, her fingers still tangled in his hair — and his smirk deepened faintly.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her again — hot and unrelenting, his hands sliding lower to hook beneath her thighs.

And she clung to him like she believed it, too.

It wasn’t until her palm hit the sheets that she realized she was crawling away.

Her body moved before her mind caught up — hips shifting, knees digging into the mattress as she scrambled weakly toward the edge of the bed, murmuring breathlessly,

“…I… I should start dinner—”

Pathetic. But it was the only excuse her fevered brain could come up with as she tried, futilely, to escape the weight of him behind her.

She didn’t even make it halfway.

A firm hand closed around her ankle like a cuff — and the next thing she knew, she was being dragged back across the sheets, gasping softly as the air left her chest.

“Dinner?” he repeated flatly, almost a scoff — as though the word itself offended him.

Before she could look over her shoulder, he was already on her again — his body covering hers, his presence swallowing her whole as he pinned her in place.

One large palm flattened against her lower back, holding her down as the other slid up the length of her spine.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

The words rumbled low above her ear, sending a shiver down her back.

“Kento—” she breathed, faint and shaky — but it dissolved instantly when he leaned in, lips grazing her temple as he growled again:

“No.”

The single syllable silenced her completely — left her shivering under him as his hands moved deliberately to her hips, peeling her skirt away in one smooth motion.

Her hands flew instinctively to the waistband of her panties, but he simply caught her wrists, pried them away, and hooked his thumbs into the elastic himself.

And with one decisive pull — rip.

The fabric tore clean in his hands, the sharp sound making her stomach flip as the ruined scrap of cotton fluttered to the floor somewhere behind him.

Then just as her breath caught in her throat, he shifted his weight off her enough to reach for the nightstand.

She froze, wide-eyed, as she watched him pull open the drawer and retrieve the foil packet.

Her cheeks burned, her thighs pressing together involuntarily, but she couldn’t look away.

Not even when he tore it open with his teeth.

Not even when he held her gaze while slowly — almost languidly — rolling the thin latex down over himself, his broad fingers working with quiet precision as the heavy length of him stood proud in his hand.

It was obscene the way he didn’t rush. The way he never once broke eye contact, like he dared her to look away first.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

Something hot and helpless unspooled low in her belly as she felt her thighs loosen without her even thinking, knees falling further apart as if her body already understood.

When he reached the base of himself, his movements slowed, adjusting the condom with two fingers, pulling it snug.

Then he spoke voice a low, dark, unhurried — his eyes heavy-lidded as they swept down her body and back up again:

“That’s right,” he murmured darkly, his tone so calm it cut her deeper than a growl.

“Stay still. Watch. You try to run again, I’ll just drag you back — every time.”

The words sank into her like hot iron — her breath catching, her hands moving instinctively to her thighs as she held herself open for him without thinking.

The smallest whimper escaped when his dark gaze swept over her one more time — her bare folds exposed beneath him, slick and glistening, her whole body trembling as though she were offering herself up completely.

“Good girl,” he murmured finally — low and approving — his hands replacing hers to keep her steady as he leaned closer, his nose brushing her cheek, his lips grazing her ear.

“Now… no more running.”

At first, it was quiet — quiet but unbearable.

The weight of him above her, his broad body pressing her into the mattress, the slow, deliberate way his hips began to move.

Not just claiming her — but making her feel it everywhere.

Her chubby thighs framed his hips perfectly, trembling faintly where he held them open, his fingers hooked behind her knees to keep her spread wide like he wanted.

Her breath came hot and shaky, her face flushed to her hairline, her wide, tear-bright eyes locked on his like she couldn’t look away.

Nanami didn’t rush.

He just stared down at her — quiet but smoldering — drinking in her fully bared figure: the way her breasts rose and fell fast, how her soft middle quivered faintly, the way her thick thighs and plush hips cushioned and framed him perfectly, already slick and ready for him.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he adjusted his hold on her knees, his voice dropping to a dark rasp.

“Good girl… keep them open just like that. Don’t you dare close them now.”

Her breath hitched at the command, her knuckles whitening where she gripped her legs — and she nodded faintly, obedient but trembling.

He pressed forward then, thick and deliberate, the heat of him undeniable even through the latex.

Her gasp cracked into a helpless little cry as he stretched her open in one relentless, steady push — and it hit them both, hard.

Her greedy walls fluttered and clung to him instantly, wet and tight, her slick already glistening where it clung down to the base of his cock, soaking the dark hair at his pelvis.

“…Hm,” he growled low, jaw tight as he bottomed out, savoring the way she gripped him.

“You feel better than I even imagined. And tighter.”

She clung to his shoulders now, her thighs trembling around his hips as her voice cracked into a sob.

“…So full—”

He chuckled darkly, his teeth flashing faintly as his hips rolled back just far enough to drag himself through her and press in again, making her gasp and clutch harder.

“Mm. And greedy, too,” he murmured against her cheek, breath hot.

“Look at you… squeezing like you’re afraid I’ll leave you empty.”

Her nails dug into him as he picked up his rhythm — still slow, but deeper now, the slick clapping of their bodies filling the room, his weight bearing her down into the sheets as her soft body quivered and bounced under him.

“Look at you,” he muttered, eyes raking over her flushed, yielding body — her breasts swaying faintly, her thick thighs jiggling slightly each time his hips pressed forward.

“All this soft flesh… taking me so well. My sweet little wife.”

“…Yes—” she whimpered faintly, voice breaking as her legs locked higher around his waist.

“Yours—your wife…”

That cracked something in him.

“That’s right,” he growled, dark and reverent as he ground deeper, feeling her walls clutch greedily, slick smearing down to his thighs.

“That’s exactly what you wanted. For me to ruin you. For me to make sure you couldn’t even think about anyone else.”

She sobbed softly into his neck, her lips brushing his skin as his pace deepened and quickened, each thrust wet and punishing but worshipful, her cunt milking him shamelessly, slicking more with every stroke.

Her soft belly rippled beneath his chest, her body already trembling as her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as though she couldn’t stand even an inch of space between them.

“Kento—” she gasped suddenly, breathless, desperate.

“I— I’m close—”

That stopped him cold.

His hand caught her jaw, tilting her face to his as his hips stilled deep inside her.

“Don’t you dare fall apart without me,” he growled against her ear — so sharp, so cold her heart stopped.

“Stay with me. Do you understand?”

Her sex-dazed eyes blinked up at him, unfocused, her voice just a faint whimper.

“…Y-yes…”

“Good girl,” he murmured, darkly satisfied — before sliding his hand between them, his thumb circling her clit with cruel precision as he began to thrust again.

Her whole body seized around him almost immediately — her walls fluttering and locking down tight on his cock as she sobbed and came undone beneath him, trembling and crying out against his neck, slick gushing down to the base and leaving both of them a mess.

For one fragile moment, she thought he’d kiss her. Thought he’d soothe her.

Instead, his lips dragged over her ear, dark and dangerous, and his hips never slowed.

“What the fuck did I just say?” he growled — sharp enough to make her flinch.

She clung harder to him, her nails scratching at his shoulders, her voice breaking.

“…I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” His teeth scraped along her jaw as his hips slammed forward harder now — each thrust punishing, deliberate.

“You disobey me, fall apart all over my cock without my permission, and all you have for me is sorry?”

Her hands scrambled to cling to him, but he snatched her wrists, pinning them above her head as his pace grew devastating, wet and sharp.

“You’ll make it up to me,” he muttered darkly.

“Don’t think I’ll forget. Keep your hands where I can see them. You don’t touch yourself again until I say so. Do you understand?”

“…Yes—” she wept faintly, her soft body slick and trembling beneath him, her cunt still milking his cock desperately despite the reprimand.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he rasped low, his voice dark but satisfied as he ground into her, hips snapping harder, sweat dripping from his hair onto her flushed skin.

“Now behave — and stay that way.”

And then he took her face in his hands, tilting her chin toward him, and kissed her.

Dark.

Hungry.

Sensual and claiming as though every ounce of passion he’d restrained now broke loose.

Her body clung to him instinctively, unable to stop, her hips still meeting his helplessly — and she swore she could taste the quiet, restrained fury in the kiss, feel the way his body bore her down into the sheets, hear his breath sharp against hers as he ruined her with every stroke.

And she knew this wasn’t over yet.

She was still catching her breath when his hands slid down to her hips, firm and unrelenting.

For a moment, he just looked at her — her flushed, chubby body slick with sweat, her lashes fluttering, her greedy little cunt still clenching around him, unwilling to let him go even after everything he’d already given her.

That sight alone made something deep in his chest twist — dark and possessive — and his fingers tightened around her hips, dragging her back until she gasped.

“Turn over.”

She froze at first, dazed — her eyes wide, breath still uneven — but his hands moved her for her, gripping her plush hips and flipping her over onto her stomach with one smooth motion.

Her soft cheek pressed into the pillow as she whimpered faintly, her knees catching on the sheets before he tugged them apart, dragging her hips up until she was on her hands and knees.

“That’s better,” he muttered, his hands sliding up the slope of her back, fingers splaying over her shoulder blades before drifting back down to cup her ass. “Stay there.”

The warning was quiet but sharp. And she obeyed — trembling faintly, fingers gripping the sheets as he knelt behind her, his palm smoothing up the curve of her back, then smoothing over her fat ass before landing a sharp slap that made her jump.

“You don’t listen,” he murmured darkly, almost to himself, as his palm smoothed over the sting he’d just left.

“You’re greedy. Always clinging. Always falling apart before I tell you to.”

Her thighs squeezed faintly as he lined himself back up — his thick cock slipping between her soaked folds, collecting her slick before he pressed in again, deep and devastating.

She choked on a sob as he bottomed out once more — the angle letting him reach even deeper, his hips grinding into her ass as her body rocked forward helplessly under the force.

“Listen to that,” he murmured against her shoulder, his hips snapping forward hard enough to make her moan. “Dripping down my cock already. You really don’t care how you look, do you? Bent over like this… begging for it.”

And she was — her body meeting his every thrust now, her soft flesh bouncing back against him as the wet sounds of their joining filled the room.

But when he slowed just enough to catch his breath — the obscene clench of her cunt still fluttering greedily around him — her voice broke the silence in a breathless, cracked whisper:

“…Want to… wanna be your wife — your… wife and — mommy—”

He froze mid-thrust.

Her words hung there, raw and unrestrained, as she let them spill between desperate gasps:

“Give me your… give me your babies — make me yours — ‘ll stay here — cook — clean — love you — keep you happy —”

Her hips rocked back against him eagerly now, driving him deeper inside as though to prove her point, her plush ass slapping back to meet his hips as slick smeared down his thighs.

His jaw flexed tight, his breath hot as he stared down at the sight of her fucking herself onto him like a woman possessed.

“…Goddamn,” he muttered under his breath, stunned — though his cock twitched hard inside her, betraying how those filthy words hit him anyway.

For a long moment, he just watched — and then his lips curled into something dark, dangerous, and quietly amused.

“Listen to yourself,” he muttered, his voice low and sharp even as he kept thrusting into her, steady and brutal. “Begging to be my wife. To carry my kids. You even hear the filth coming out of your mouth?”

Her nails dug into the sheets, her breath catching — but she couldn’t stop herself. Couldn’t stop the way her hips bucked up, chasing every devastating grind of his body against hers.

“You really are insane,” he murmured, leaning down, letting his teeth graze her ear. “Think you’d make a good little housewife? Hm? Cooking dinner for me, all sweet while your greedy cunt still leaks from the night before?”

She whined high in her throat — nodding against the sheets, her fingers fisting them tight.

“Yes—yes, please—”

Her response was choked, desperate, broken — her walls fluttering wildly around him as she trembled.

“Already cock-drunk. Still begging. Still calling yourself my wife like it’s a title you’ve earned.”

Her mouth fell open, words breaking into breathless nonsense as she rocked back against him desperately.

“And you love it,” he growled, pulling her head back just slightly, his teeth grazing the shell of her ear.

“You love being ruined like this. You’d let me keep you here forever, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes—please—always—”

He chuckled low at that — cruel but faintly fond — his teeth dragging along her jaw before he leaned down to murmur hot against her ear:

“That’s exactly why,” he said, thrusting in deep and grinding his hips flush, “I have this on.”

His free hand snapped down to the base of the condom, adjusting it with quiet, mocking precision as he kept himself buried to the hilt.

“To keep my crazy little wife from going completely feral.”

Her body shivered helplessly at that, her cunt clenching even tighter.

“Please—please—I’m close—” she cried out suddenly, her voice breaking.

He chuckled low — dangerous — and leaned down to murmur, teeth grazing her ear:

“You don’t get to finish first this time. You earn it. You hold it — until I take it from you myself.”

And with that, his hips snapped harder, relentless, brutal — forcing her to feel every inch of him pounding into her, his hands gripping her hips so tight she’d wear his marks for days.

Her thighs trembled violently beneath him, but she did what she could — gasping his name, clinging to the sheets — until finally he hissed through his teeth:

“Now—spread yourself. Let me see you when you fall apart.”

And she obeyed without thinking — her shaky hands reaching back, fingers digging into the swell of her own soft cheeks, spreading herself wide as his cock slammed deep into her, filling her entirely.

“Good girl,” he groaned as his own control frayed, his hips grinding deeper, faster.

“Look at you — holding yourself open like you want the whole world to see you take it.”

Her walls fluttered violently around him at his words, her body utterly undone — until her orgasm tore through her with a sob, her legs locking up tight even as her hands kept her spread for him.

He didn’t stop.

And with a final, guttural growl, he came with her,  his jaw tight, his breath hissing through his teeth as he slammed into the hilt and stilled, his thick cock twitching deep inside her.

The condom swelled hot and full at the base where their bodies met, the wrapper tight around him as she spread her thighs wider for him instinctively, clinging to him and crying softly against his chest as they both rode the high down together.

His breath was warm and ragged against her neck, a quiet groan slipping free as he held himself there — letting her feel all of him while her body slowly went slack beneath him.

But when he finally leaned back to look at her — really look — he froze.

Her nose was bleeding.

Just a faint, thin line of red slipping down over her lip as she blinked up at him with a dazed, utterly spent little smile.

“…Seriously?” he murmured dryly, though his thumb was already there, swiping the blood away before she could even register it.

Her cheeks heated instantly, and she tried to mumble something — anything — about being fine, but her voice barely worked.

His lips quirked faintly as he studied her — still spread, still clinging to him, her face flushed and shining with sweat and tears and now a little streak of blood.

“You’re lucky,” he muttered darkly, leaning in close enough that his breath brushed her cheek,

“That I like insane women.”

His thumb brushed under her nose once more before wiping it carelessly on the sheets.

“One of these days,” he added, almost to himself,

“You’re going to pass out just from looking at me, aren’t you?”

Her weak, breathless laugh cracked as she tried to bury her face in his chest — but he caught her chin instead, smirking faintly down at her ruined little smile.

Aftercare came in quiet, deliberate motions — his hands smoothing down her back as he carefully withdrew, disposing of the condom before returning to her.

He eased her up the bed and tucked the blanket over both of them, settling on his back and pulling her onto his chest like she belonged there.

Her fingers curled weakly into his shirt — the one he’d never actually put back on — and she hid her face in his neck, her whole body still trembling faintly.

“…Still think you’re fit to cook dinner like this?” he murmured, his voice low but carrying just the faintest trace of humor.

She shook her head mutely, and he chuckled softly under his breath — a rare sound that made her chest ache with something warm and helpless.

“That’s what I thought,” he said simply, his lips pressing lightly to her temple.

For a while, the room was quiet except for her soft, uneven breaths and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek.

But then he spoke again — voice lower this time, teasing but almost fond:

“Darling,” he muttered, shaking his head faintly as his palm smoothed down over her hip.

“You’re going to tell the whole neighborhood about this, aren’t you?”

She let out a faint little laugh, already half-asleep, her lips pressing against his collarbone as she whispered:

“…Of course. They should know… my husband’s perfect.”

That earned a quiet huff from him — but the way his arm tightened just slightly around her, pulling her closer, said more than words ever could.

And when his hand drifted up to cradle the back of her head, his thumb brushing lazily through her hair, he murmured just loud enough for her to hear:

“…You really are insufferable.”

But his lips pressed to her forehead anyway — soft and lingering — and he didn’t let her go for the rest of the night.

Bonus:

Within a few months, Nanami’s life changed.

Not that he would have admitted it in so many words — but he felt it every morning when he woke up to her curled against him, every evening when he came home to her voice humming in the kitchen.

He had proposed to her (although reluctantly, in his own quiet way) after that infamous night when she finally, entirely, claimed him.

And she? She became ten times worse.

She wore the ring like a crown, flashing it at cashiers, delivery boys, and neighbors.

“My husband picked it himself,” she would say dreamily, twirling it under the light. “Isn’t he perfect?”

And no matter how many times Nanami corrected her —

“We’re not married yet,”

—She only grinned wider and continued anyway.

The photos were worse. She showed them to everyone.

He still remembered the day she stopped by the school, her bento in hand, already showing her phone to Shoko and Gojo.

“Look how gorgeous he is when he’s sleeping,” she sighed.

Nanami’s stomach sank when he saw which one it was — sprawled on the couch, tied loose, her reflection smirking in the glass.

Then she swiped again.

“And here,” she said cheerfully.

This one was him shirtless in the kitchen at sunrise, hair still damp from the shower, coffee mug in hand.

Nanami’s jaw tightened.

“Delete that.”

She tucked the phone behind her back with that infuriatingly sweet smile.

“Nope.”

“Delete it.”

“Absolutely not.”

By the time he cornered her lightly against the wall, trying to wrestle the phone away, she was breathless with laughter and kissed his cheek just to distract him.

“You’re insufferable,” he growled.

“But you love me,” she whispered back.

And she was right.

He told himself every day that he hadn’t meant to indulge her this much.

But something about her — her maddening persistence, her warmth, her sharp little mouth calling him husband around everyone like it was already law — had worn him down.

No, not worn him down. She’d wrapped herself into his life, into his home, into his chest, until removing her would feel less like untangling and more like amputation.

And so he let her win.

Not explicitly. Not with words.

But when it came to her, she always found a way.

Then came the Gojo incident.

Nanami should have let it go. He knew that.

But no — a few days later, he stopped in front of Gojo anyway, arms crossed, jaw tight, glasses glinting.

Gojo stood there as though waiting for him, leaning lazily on the railing in his dark blue zip-up jacket with its high collar, slim black trousers neat as ever, a simple black blindfold obscuring his eyes but not the smug grin on his lips.

“Well, well,” Gojo drawled, slipping his sunglasses into his hair just to be more irritating. “My favorite husband-to-be. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Nanami exhaled slowly.

“We need to talk.”

“Oh? About how much you enjoyed the little gift I picked out?”

Nanami’s jaw flexed.

“I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Mm. Then why so tense? Something happened?”

Gojo’s smirk widened when Nanami didn’t answer.

“…Oh-ho. She caught you, didn’t she?”

Nanami adjusted his tie.

“…Yes.”

Gojo chuckled darkly.

“Ohhh, brutal. What’d she do? Scream? Cry? Throw things?”

“Yes,” Nanami replied flatly.

“Figures. Then what? She walked out?”

Nanami hesitated.

Mistake.

“Oh?” Gojo leaned forward, gleeful. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Nothing you need to know.”

“Oh no no, don’t clam up now,” Gojo cajoled. “What’d she make you do?”

Nanami’s brow twitched faintly, his mind unwillingly flashing back: her standing there in her robe, arms crossed, eyes blazing, firelight in the kitchen sink as he recited her words and torched the damn thing while she glared at him into submission.

When his gaze snapped back, Gojo was grinning ear to ear.

“Oh, it’s exactly what I think, isn’t it? She made you say something while it burned.”

“…I’m leaving,” Nanami muttered.

“Oh, come on!” Gojo called after him. “Well, for next time, just let me get you a proper present instead of something sinful, yeah?”

That stopped Nanami mid-step. He turned just enough to mutter dryly:

“You gave me the damn thing.”

Gojo only grinned wider.

“Ah, but you used it.”

Nanami stared him down a beat longer, then turned on his heel with a quiet:

“…Insufferable bastard.”

“Tell her I said hi!” Gojo’s laughter followed him all the way down the hall.

Nanami made a mental note to repay him someday.

That evening, Nanami came home late.

Overworked. Tense. Exhausted.

His briefcase felt heavier than usual.

He quietly opened the door, hoping to just take a hot bath and collapse — but there she was already, standing in the middle of the room, wrapped in one of his shirts and nothing else, arms crossed, lips pursed.

“You’re late,” she said.

“I—” he began, but she was already stepping closer, her hips swaying as she dropped to her knees.

“…I missed you,” she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she undid his belt.

“Wait—” he tried weakly, his pulse quickening as she freed him from his slacks.

“I’ve been sweating all day,” he said feebly, but she only leaned in and licked the flushed tip of him like it didn’t matter.

“Mm,” she hummed, lips curling faintly as she glanced up through her lashes. “Better. You'll taste even more like my husband. Just the way I like it.”

God help him, he tried to keep his hands at his sides — but the second she took him deeper, her warm mouth wet and wicked around him, he couldn’t help but fist her hair and mutter her name under his breath.

When she pulled back just enough to kiss his tip with a soft, obscene sound, she murmured:

“You’ll never need anything else. Not when you have me.”

“You—” he groaned lowly, though she cut him off with another long, slow drag of her tongue down his length before sucking him in again.

Her hand stroked him at the base as her mouth teased lower, warm and wet around him, and when she finally drew back completely — slick and breathless—she whispered:

“You’re mine. Don’t forget it.”

Later that night, after she’d thoroughly ruined him (and his pride), he finally managed to escape into the bathroom for a proper soak.

The water was blissfully hot around his shoulders, his eyes closing as he leaned back against the cool tile, only to hear the door creak open.

He cracked one eye open just in time to see her silhouette step in, towel clutched around her curves, and a dangerous little smile on her lips.

“…What are you doing?” he asked flatly, though his pulse betrayed him already.

She dropped the towel with deliberate care, letting it pool on the floor before stepping into the water and sliding in behind him.

Her soft, bare body pressed to his back, her arms wrapping lazily around his chest as her cheek rested against his shoulder.

“Just reminding you,” she murmured into his ear.

He let out a quiet sigh as his hand slid into the water, smoothing along her thigh and calf while he leaned back into her warmth. 

“You really are insufferable,” he finally muttered, though his voice had softened. 

She chuckled softly against his neck and pressed a lingering kiss there before whispering, “But you love me.”

And though he didn’t answer, just laying himself back to rest on her body, his thumb brushed up the side of her thigh, and she swore she caught the faintest curve of a smile at the corner of his lips.

[bibbysstuff]

S in Sylus stands for Simp

[bunnis-monsters]

The Dragon Prince, in need of a mate

Dragon Prince x Fem!Reader

summary: After a desperate search for his mate, the dragon prince leaves the celestial realm to drink away his sorrows, only to find the person he was looking for in a commoner. You.

warning: breeding, mating, lots of cum, scenting, he fucks you in his dragon form

WK: 10k words

The sounds of heavy footsteps echoed down the palace halls, a growl leaving the throat of the celestial dragon prince.

It was tiring, looking for a bride every day. Not a single woman had been the right one for him… how would he ever be king without a mate?

It made him both angry and strangely… lonely at times. Everywhere he turned there seemed to be a happy couple. Noblemen and women lounged together, being fed grapes or massaged. Even when his eyes glanced towards the common folk, he would spot lovers holding hands or sharing a secretive kiss while serving the palace.

It was enough to drive a dragon to drink.

So while everyone celebrated in the palace after another boring day, the prince transformed into a more suitable appearance, taking on the form of a beautiful nobleman.

He assumed it would be enough to stay under the radar, unaware that his beauty and elegance would draw the attention of every maiden at the bar.

Leaving the celestial realm to dine among humans wasn’t exactly forbidden, but it was looked down upon for higher beings such as himself to dine amongst the common folk, hence the disguise.

Though, with his antler-like horns and claws, there was no doubt he was a being from the celestial realm.

As he walked through a quaint town, people stopped to stare, often with mouths agape.

He didn’t notice, eyes transfixed on the ground. All he could think of at the moment was finding something to drink his sorrows away.

In the distance, he saw the glow of warm lighting coming from a small tavern.

‘Perfect. Seems like a place the common folk gather. I should fit in well enough.’

Though he thought this, the second he walked in the bustling tavern grew quiet, all eyes on him. This wasn’t picked up by the prince, and he continued towards an empty table.

After getting comfortable, his mind began to wander. Life at the palace had been… stressful as of late.

He was used to the rumors, even used to people fearing and avoiding him. But what was unusual was his own insecurity in his heart.

Why hadn’t he found a mate yet? Part of him wandered if there was something inherently wrong with him. Although he hadn’t made much time to truly search out his soulmate, it shouldn’t have been so hard.

He was a prince… yet when he looked at the scars on his body that wouldn’t heal, he felt like a failure.

Weak.

As he sulked, he didn’t even notice that a glass of wine had been placed in front of him. What made his head snap up was the sound of a soft voice.

“Are you alright?”

He looked up, eyes wide as your smell hit his nose. That scent, the way it made his body react…

The woman before him was plump, your eyes giving him a soft and concerned look as you held the empty serving tray to your… ample chest.

It took him a moment to register your words. You glanced at him and then back at the bar, a nervous smile on you face.

You had never interacted with such a handsome man that was clearly of a higher class than yourself. Was it disrespectful to speak out of turn?

Your heart was kind and gentle, so you couldn’t help but speak up when he looked so down.

Once your words fully registered in his mind, he cleared his throat. This was all too much. For several months, nearly a year he had been halfheartedly searching for his mate, and here you were, in a random bar in the human realm.

His eyes moved from your face and down your body, taking in your features. Again, you were plump, with heavy looking breasts, a soft belly, and the outline of thick thighs and hips he could see through your dress.

A perfect mate.

The prince finally looked up, studying your face. Chubby cheeks, a soft smile, pretty eyes…

He had never put much thought into what his mate would look like, but now that he had seen you, he knew that this is all he could ever want.

“I’m alright… another glass, please.”

As you walked away with a flushed face, he downed his glass quickly to try and calm his racing heart. Gods, just the scent of you was enough to have him struggling to control himself.

“Here you are…”

You placed another glass in front of him, smiling shyly as he took it. He was handsome, regal and nearly lit up the room with his beauty. Everyone could tell he was not of this world, and you felt beyond honored to be the one who got to serve such a special man.

But in his mind his thoughts were far from graceful. His eyes didn’t leave your figure, continuing to glance at your hips and soft belly. Both features were absolutely perfect for breeding purposes…

“My dear, what is your name?”

You blinked, taking a moment to process his question. In all honesty you had been completely distracted by his beauty that you zoned out. This was so embarrassing, your cheeks heating up as you struggled to answer.

“M-my name? Oh it’s (Name)!” you babbled out, covering your mouth afterwards. Oh no, you probably sounded way too eager!

He just smirked, taking your hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “(Name)? That’s lovely… (Name).”

Your name being said by such a handsome man had your body feeling hot. This man was looking up at you with an air of confidence that had you flustered, your eyes unable to look into his.

Was it disrespectful to not answer? He was most likely a noble…

“Th… thank you, sir. It’s just a common name, I’d say.”

He reached out and cupped your cheek, his large palm warm against your face. “Perhaps, but it’s a name I will never forget.”

Your cheeks flushed at this, and you looked up at him through your eyelashes. That alone was enough to have his pants tighten.

The two of you exchanged longing glances throughout the night, and when your shift was ending, he stopped you before you could leave.

The dragon prince stood, his full height dwarfing you completely. “Come. Let us find somewhere quiet.”

Though you had always been warned by the tavern owner to never follow a guest outside, you were transfixed by his confident smile and intelligent eyes.

As he led you outside, his form seemed to almost… shift slightly. Though he still appeared mostly human, his horns grew longer and teeth sharper.

The moon shone down on them, their breaths coming out in white puffs. It was cold enough for you to shiver, but soon you were warmed by his embrace.

“It’s quite chilly at this time of night, is it not? Stay by my side.”

He led you through the night, the only light that of the shining moon. When it was covered by clouds, he still had no issue guiding you around uneven terrain and the occasional tree root.

It was then you realized there was no way he was human. You had your suspicions before, but it wasn’t uncommon for some human mages to take on animal features to help them with their magic endeavors.

This man, however, was no mage or lowly magical creature. You could tell by the way the moonlight enveloped his body, making him glow in the dark of night.

“What are your plans for me?”

Your voice was shaky, but you felt no fear. The trembling came from a sense of excitement and lust.

And he could smell how wet you were.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead lifting you over a puddle of water and setting you down on the other side.

The dragon prince paused after this, cupping your cheek as he took in your curious expression.

“I will take you on as a mate. From the moment I saw you, it was clear you were the one I have been looking for.”

He cleared his throat before he continued.

“I am the current celestial dragon prince. You will love a life of luxury and never be without…”

It was hard for him to speak when he could smell your arousal growing thick in the air, his own scent mixing in. “… will you be mine?”

Your body felt so warm, you wanted so badly to say yes…

But it didn’t feel real. He was bound to you of all people? You were a lowly tavern barmaid, born into a life of poverty. Nothing about you was inherently special and it was hard to comprehend anyone as beautiful as him wanting to spend his eternal life with you.

“You… are joking, right? Did you drink too much?”

The words coming out of your mouth felt wrong. You could feel the sexual tension in the air, yet your mind wouldn’t listen to your body’s natural instincts.

“I do not joke about things as serious as this, my love. I am your mate, we are tied together by fate.”

He lifted your hand, kissing the back of it.

“How can I prove to you that I am serious?”

Before you could answer his form began to shift again, his hands becoming claws. It was getting even harder to hold back, and you were soon lifted into his arms.

“I can’t… hold back anymore… since I realized you were my mate, I’ve been dying to taste you.”

The world became blurry, your body growing hot and your head woozy as everything faded and shifted. Next thing you knew, the two of you were in an intricately decorated room.

You were set onto the softest bed you had ever felt, given no time to take in your surroundings.

He was already opening your thighs, sniffing at your clothed cunt. A groan left his lips, his long black hair tickling your sensitive thighs as he dipped his head between them.

“Gods, you smell delicious. Please… I must taste you.”

You swallowed when his nose rubbed against your inner thigh. The way he was looking up at you had your heart thumb ping rapidly in your chest.

“A-alright…”

Within seconds of your consent his claws ripped through your underwear and his face was buried between your thighs.

His tongue swirled around your clit, and all you could do was moan and hold onto his horns for support.

He grabbed hold of your hips, squeezing the soft fat and pulling you closer. Your pussy had already been drooling with need, and now you felt your arousal dripping down your thighs, his chin covered in your slick.

It was erotic, the sound of his grunts and groans filling the air with each lap of his tongue. You tasted divine, and he was losing himself in you.

Nothing else besides you mattered in this moment. All he could think of was how good it felt to have your thighs squeezing around his head. The moans you let out had his cock twitching incessantly, and he wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer.

“Gods…”

He pulled back, looking at the wet mess your fat pussy had become. Your eyes were glazed over, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath.

How many times have you orgasmed so far? You felt almost selfish, already wanting more from him after he just pleasured you.

“My sweet little mate, how do you feel now? My precious, you’re glowing.”

He almost purred when he leaned forward, breathing softly against your neck. You let out a content sigh, reaching up to play with his long black hair.

“Mmm… I’m feeling pretty tired, I’d say… I’ve been working since noon.”

He stiffened a bit at that, resting his chin on your head. The prince did not enjoy thinking about you working so hard. Even though he had only known you for a few hours, you were his mate.

“Well, my dove, do not worry your pretty little head anymore. You will work another day in your life. From now on, you will be pampered and taken care of… I guarantee it.”

Despite how his cock ached to be inside of you, he decided to wait until you were rested to properly mate with you. It would take more energy and leave you exhausted…

You fell asleep in his arms, feeling so warm and safe. How long had it been since you had been held? That last time you could remember was your childhood, when you were just a tiny thing.

He made you feel small, protected, and… so, so warm.

In the morning you awoke, stretching with a yawn as you sleepily stood to get ready for your job. It was strange, when you reached for your apron on your nightstand, you couldn’t find it.

That’s when you remembered the previous night.

Your face warmed immediately, and you barely held back an embarrassed squeal when you noticed the man groan tiredly, his face buried in your chest.

“Go back to sleep, love…”

It was too early in the morning for you to protest, and you haven't slept in since you were a child. It felt nice, getting to fall back asleep in his arms, his hair tickling your cheek.

You listened to his breathing, smiling sleepily. His sharp claws slowly ran through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp to lull you back into slumber.

The next time you woke up it was nearly noon. This was beyond embarrassing, even as a child you had only slept in this much when you were deathly ill. The prince still attempted to get you to stay in bed longer, but when you protested he huffed.

“Alright, alright… stubborn little thing, aren’t you?”

He snapped his fingers, servant girls appearing at your side immediately.

“Your highness,” they greeted, bowing before your bedmate. The prince waved a hand dismissively, rubbing his temple.

“Take my mate and get her a bath and some fresh clothes. Treat her well, she is your future empress after all.”

The servant girls bowed again, raising their hands. “Yes, at once.”

They led you away, and you could only look back pathetically as he lounged in bed, watching you go with a smirk. Your plump rear was certainly a nice sight, and your hips swayed deliciously while you were guided away.

He couldn’t wait to feel how warm your cunt was when he sank into you that night.

As you were led down the halls and into the bathhouse, you saw female royals and nobles alike being pampered by the servants. They were fed grapes, massaged, and even dressed.

You weren’t even sure if they had ever lifted a hand to take care of themselves your entire life. It left you feeling sour. Every day had been a struggle to even put food on the table, much less properly take care of yourself, and here these women were completely pampered to the point their skin glowed.

In all honesty you had never seen yourself as anything special, but before you at least thought you could marry someone with a bit of wealth and settle down peacefully.

After seeing the beauties of the castle, you were left feeling… insecure. How could you ever compete with these gorgeous women?

Without much warning you were stripped down to your birthday suit. The servants weren’t rough, but they weren’t exactly gentle either as they helped you into the bath and scrubbed at your skin.

“Filthy, and you slept in the same bed as the prince. Have you no shame, human?”

You flinched as their nails dug lightly into your scalp. It was painful, but you dared not to make a sound.

“And those rags you wore… just disrespectful, I’ll say.”

Unfortunately, you agreed wholeheartedly, and wondered why such an elegant and noble person such as him dared to even touch you. After all, you had the entire day’s sweat and dirt decorating your skin and clothes.

Unbeknownst to you, the fact that you had been sweaty and strongly scented played a big part in his list for you. A mate was meant to smell like themselves, and to him you smelled absolutely divine.

You looked away in shame as you were rinsed off. Although you felt rather uncomfortable, the floral scent of the soaps and the quality didn’t go unnoticed by you. Never before had you had access to such luxurious toiletries. It was rare for you to have scented soap, but this moisturized your skin and made you feel like a brand new person.

“Worry not, we are well aware of the prince’s mating bond with you. Be you royalty or common folk, we will ensure you will look the part of a princess.”

With that, you were quickly dried off and moved along towards a dressing room.

As you waited in a small room, being told to water yourself, you could hear voices speaking softly nearby.

“Truly, one could even feel sorry for a common girl marrying that insane prince.”

“Oh, dear heavens, do not let any of the celestial royalty hear such things.”

“But I am not wrong, am I? I worry he will simply dispose of her when he is done. Even the humans know that the celestial beings here can do with them as they please and no one will bat an eye.”

You stayed quiet, simply staying near the warm hearth as you continued to dry off slowly. Of course you had heard rumors of the infamous deities residing within the celestial realm.

None of those rumors were good.

Despite feeling a bit nervous, you shook off their words. Even if you were to be tossed aside, you wanted to spend at least one day feeling beautiful and… loved.

If what this was could even qualify as love.

He had called you his mate, did celestial beings mate for life? You were human, it was something hard for your mortal mind to comprehend.

A mate… like a soulmate perhaps? Did that mean he thought the two of you were destined for one another?

Could that mean that none of this was natural, that you were bound together without much choice?

What if he was desperate for a mate and didn’t truly love you?

These thoughts swirled around your head as you were brought into the dressing room.

Before you, rows upon rows of dresses and different types of clothing you had never seen before hung on racks. A few servant girls were already waiting in front of a mirror, holding measuring tape.

“Stand here while we take your measurements.”

You held out your arms, cheeks hot as your naked body was put on display for various women. Their expressions were neutral, and they simply figured out what size you were before running off to fetch various clothing items.

This only added on to your stress.

“Your own personal wardrobe will be prepared shortly, but as the seamstresses are working, you will wear pre-prepared dresses.”

You were dressed in something elegant and flowy, a light blue and white in color. It was something you had never worn before, the fabric soft yet thick and warm.

“With a bit of work, you will be ready for the banquet tonight. For now, the prince is requesting your presence at his bedside once more.”

A servant girl led you way, and you heard the others discussing how to prepare your hair and makeup later in the evening.

You were not looking forward to that.

You were led back to the room you woke up in. The smell of incense wafted from under the door, the lavender and vanilla scent making you relax.

“Come in,” the prince called out after the servant girl knocked. After being ushered in, you slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room and opened your eyes.

He was laid out in the bed, taking in your new look with eager eyes. “Mmm… you clean up nicely, though I preferred your scent before.”

The prince gestured for you to join him in bed, and you quickly scurried to his side, shyly climbing in next to him. “What’s the reason for all this timid behavior? My tongue was buried deep inside of you last night, was it not? There’s nothing to be shy about.”

Your cheeks heated up once again, and you avoided his gaze. “S-saying things like that… isn’t it a bit inappropriate for a p… prince? Won’t they-“

He laughed, grabbing your chin and turning you to face him. “And you think a prince would care who hears him speaking to his mate as he pleases? You are mine, how I talk to you is no one’s business.”

The way he spoke made a shiver go down your spine. He was so confident… and you?

You were the daughter of a simple tavern owner, having no prospects other than hopefully marrying a decent man that would take good care of you.

Though you could feel your body yearning to be near him, almost instinctively drawing closer, you thought it was… strange.

Was the only thing connecting you to this beautiful man instinct? Though you ached when he looked your way, you couldn’t help but feel empty.

What other reason than being forced by fate would a man like him choose to be by your side?

You softened when the pads of his fingertips slowly slid down your side. He was gentle with you, though you had the feeling he wasn’t always like this.

“Come closer, I wish to hold you.”

Slowly you climbed to his side, melting into his touch when he cupped your chubby cheek.

The servant girls called him insane before, insinuating he was cruel and beastly.

But could someone with a touch this gentle truly hurt you?

“You look lovely. Perfect, I’d say,” he mumbled, burying his nose into your hair. You held onto his sleeve, feeling his horns lightly rub against you.

“… you call me lovely, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more handsome man than you.”

He chuckled, his chest tumbling pleasantly. “Am I? Darling, you’re going to make me blush.”

You could tell he was lightly teasing you, which led you to letting out an involuntary huff. This made the dragon prince’s laugh increase in volume.

“Oh? My little mate is pouting now? How cute.”

He tilted your chin up, taking in the way your chubby cheeks puffed out lightly, and how your lips pursed.

“Ahh, you’re going to be the end of me, darling. I can hardly control myself when you’re looking at me like that,” he purred, his voice almost a growl.

Before he could continue his teasing, there was another knock at the door. His demeanor shifted from relaxed and amused to irritated in seconds.

“Who dares to interrupt my time with my precious mate?”

You rested your head against his chest as a woman entered. She certainly was no servant girl, you could tell by the silk and thick wool she wore.

“Mother…”

He held you close, wrapping his arms around your body and tucking your head under his chin. It was almost like an animal protecting its young from a vicious predator.

The woman before you had icy blue eyes, dark hair, and pale skin. It was almost like she was looking into your soul, judging you from within.

Though she looked so different from the prince, he called her his mother…

“You are to report to your father within the hour with your… so called mate. He will be the judge on if this is an actual mating bond this time. You should hope it is, to save yourself the embarrassment.”

With one last look that could freeze hell itself, she turned away, a servant girl shutting the door for her.

You looked up to ask the prince about the woman from before, but he looked distant and cold himself. He stared at your soft body, caressing your cheek and keeping you close to his chest.

“… worry not about that hag, my love. She is not my true mother, simply a woman the emperor, my father has married.”

Though he told you not to worry, the way he held you was enough to have you tense.

The prince held you as if letting you go could only invite trouble… and you knew that woman was the reason for his uneasiness.

Walking with him through the halls made you feel like a princess. People bowed as you passed by, but you noticed others retreated out of fear. Though he kept up a cold facade, you could feel his grip tighten on your hand each time a servant or royal scurried away.

Her presence definitely had a profound effect on him.

He stopped before a massive door, so big it could easily crush you if it were to fall forward. Carved into the dark oak were images of what you could only assume was the banquet of the Chinese zodiac.

They danced and feasted all over the door, and in the center was a dragon watching over them all. The eyes of the dragon were encrusted with sparkling red jewels, and it almost felt like they followed your every movement.

The doors opened, relieving you of the dragon’s intense stare… only for you to come face to face with a real one.

“Father,” the prince acknowledged the dragon, bowing low before you blinked rapidly.

“F-father!?”

The dragon before you was easily the size of the tavern you worked at, if bigger. It sat on a (most likely) custom made thrown, glaring down at your with red eyes that matched the one from the door.

“Ah, your mate already sees me as a father. How cute.”

You stiffened as the dragon stood, causing the palace to shake. Everywhere you turned, people either continued on or stood politely nearby, completely… calm!?

So, trying to fit in, you bit the inside of your cheek and looked up, meeting his eye. You reached out your hand as he approached.

“It’s good to meet you, y-your highness. My name is (Name).”

The prince gave you an amused, incredulous look from the corner of his eye, but you could see the way the corner of his mouth twitched in panic.

The floor shook with the emperor’s laughter, his tail lashing behind him and knocking over a potted plant.

“My son, your supposed mate is quite funny. She offers me her hand like a commoner would, not surprising considering her upbringing.”

Though his words sounded rude, there was no malice behind it. He reached out one of his claws, and you shook it.

It took you a moment to register the cool feeling of his claw turning into the warmth of a human hand. He had shifted into a more humanoid form… and a handsome one at that.

Though he was older and taller, you could tell the resemblance to the prince. He was definitely his father, there was no doubting that.

“I assume this form may be less threatening to a human such as yourself. It may not seem like it, but I take no pleasure in frightening those who may become my family.”

His touch was firm, but not rough. The emperor moved away from you just as the prince’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

“Ah, my apologies, son. She’s yours, isn’t she?”

The prince’s appearance had changed slightly, his dragon features becoming more prominent. Dark scales appeared along his face and arms, his horns growing in size to the point they looked too heavy for his head.

It was clear he was incredibly protective of you, disliking his father being too friendly with his mate. It made you feel quite happy, seeing how worked up he got over a perceived threat.

Your fingertips lights caressed his cheek, and slowly he calmed down. His scales flattened out into smooth skin again, and he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, kissing his cheek. “Don’t fuss, everything will be okay.”

Something about you soothed his soul in a way no one else could. To anyone watching, it was obvious that you were his soulmate.

“It seems you have finally found the one, my son.”

Your hand suddenly grew hot, and you yelped as you held your hand up to see what was causing the sudden pain.

There was now a ring on your ring finger, the color of the stone the same as the prince’s eyes. On his hand was a matching band, encrusted with jewels that matched your eyes.

“I have recognized your mating bond as being valid. The wedding shall take place when the moon is full once more.”

The prince squeezed your hand, his thumb running over your new ring possessively. You could tell by the way he sniffed at you that he was eager to get you back to his bedroom.

Though part of you was thrilled to be tied to someone that made your heart flutter inside your chest… insecurities still lingered in your mind.

Did he truly love you? You’d only known him for 24 hours, there was no way he could… it all had to be because of your mating bond…

Right..?

Almost as if sensing your unease, the emperor chuckled. “My son, it seems you and your mate are eager to consummate this mating bond. Perhaps it’s time to show her your feelings.”

With that, he gave a nod to one of the deities lounging about nearby. “Begin preparations for the wedding… and tell everyone that interrupting the future emperor and empress tonight will bring severe punishments.”

The two of you were dismissed with a wave of the emperor’s hand, and your lover was quick to gather you in his arms and carry you back to his room.

“Father may be intimidating and married to the most evil bitch alive, but at least he can understand that the newly tied need privacy.”

You whimpered when his face nuzzled against your neck, your heart beating faster as he inhaled your scent.

“Gods… I’ll be mating with you before the banquet, I cannot hold back any longer…”

The second the door to his room was closed, his lips smashed into yours. He was desperate for you, his hands roaming your plump hips and holding on tightly.

“Your scent has been driving me insane… I need you, darling…”

You let out a whimper as he lowered you onto the bed, your thighs trembling lightly at the memory of last night. Pleasures unimaginable had been given to you, and you were sure that it would only get better now.

But…

“… are you sure this is what you want?”

His lips paused on your neck, his hands moving from your hips to your face. He held onto your chin, tilting it up to meet his face. “… what do you mean, my love? Of course I want you, we’re mates-“

“Is that the only reason!?”

His eyes widened when you raised your voice, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. The past day you had been doubting his love for you, seeing it as only instinctual…

“(Name)… you don’t understand how much I adore you.”

You melted as he kisses your eyelids, his touch tender and affectionate. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were the one. Mating bonds are important, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you outside of it. You’re kind, you make me smile and feel like…”

He sighed, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Let me show you something.”

The prince pulled back, and you felt your body ache when his warmth faded from your skin. He slowly disrobed, letting the expensive fabric fall to the ground.

His torso was littered with scars, long and jagged, all seemed to be caused by fighting. The prince didn’t meet your eye as he spoke.

“Most celestial deities heal wounds like these easily, but try as I might, these scars do not seem to heal. It is because… I am weak.”

He hung his head in shame, hair falling to hide his face. “How can I even think of taking care of a mate when I can’t even protect you? I’m-

You reached out and grabbed his hand before he continued. You placed your fingertips over one of his scars, shaking your head.

“Don’t say that…”

It was quiet, your touch soothing on his scarred skin. He shuddered as your traces each wound, every movement of your fingers tender and full of love.

“Having scars doesn’t make you weak, not at all… it shows you’ve survived so much… it’s evidence of how strong you are.”

The prince did not say anything, simply wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest. All he could have ever wanted was his mate to accept him as he was, completely.

You truly were meant to be his.

“I need you, (Name), my love… my body burns with desire every time you touch me.”

He had waited long enough. Being so close to you had caused him to slowly enter an almost rut like state. If he couldn’t mate with you soon, he’d go crazy.

“Then I want you to have me… I need to be yours…” you said, leaning into his touch. His chest tumbled at your words, the scales from before coming back. This time it wasn’t out of anger, no, he was very pleased.

“As you wish, my love. I will make you mine entirely, just give me your trust and I will give you my heart.”

This time you initiated the kiss, much to his delight. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in.

A battle for dominance began, your tongues fighting but you gave in quickly. He was strong, and you wanted him to ravish you. You were giving yourself to him.

He was quick to shred through your clothes. The displeasure of such a nice dress going to waste only lasted for a second before you melted into his arms.

“Divine, just gorgeous…” he murmured, groping one of your breasts. “You’re truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…”

He lightly tugged at one of your nipples, the other one sucked on lightly. His tongue swirled around the perky bud, his free hand moving downwards, towards your clothed cunt.

For a minute he rubbed you through your underwear, lightly circling your clit. His ear twitched when you let out a breathy moan, your hips bucking lightly into his hand.

His cock twitched, already erect and desperate to be inside of you. But he was a gentleman, and couldn’t bear the thought of potentially hurting his mate.

So he was gentle, removing your soaked underwear and prodding at your needy hole. “Look at that, someone is excited…”

“Says you…” you managed to get out between moans, feeling his fingers curl up and hit the perfect spot inside of you. “You’re spilling precum all over my thighs…”

He grinned, enjoying your back and forth banter. “Oh? Then perhaps it’s time to get on with it. After all…”

His head pushed against your cunt, eliciting a moan from both of you. “I don’t want to waste a single drop of my seed… it all needs to be inside of my mate…”

And then he penetrated you. At first it hurt, the stretch feeling uncomfortable, like you were being pulled apart. You’d never seen a human man naked, but you assumed he was bigger than average.

If you had to guess, you’d say he was around 8-9 inches long, and girty too. Taking him wasn’t easy, and he hated seeing tears well up in your eyes because of him.

Being inside of you felt heavenly. You were warm and tight, and he could cum just from being fully sheathed in your fat cunt… but he felt terrible for feeling so much pleasure while you were in pain.

“It’s going to be alright, sweetheart…” he murmured, one of his claws caressing your hips. “I’m going to be gentle, this pain won’t last for long…”

He peppered kisses along your neck, waiting patiently for you to calm down and for the pain to ease. The prince was well aware of the size difference between you and him, and that if he wasn’t careful during mating, his form could shift and grow larger, potentially harming you.

He was right, soon the pain began to ebb away, dulling until all you could feel was pleasure washing over your body. His cock twitched inside of you, and you arched your back.

“Ready?”

You nodded, your chest rising and falling as your breathing picked up. He could feel how wet you were, and began to move slowly.

The moan the movements of his lips elicited from you caused him to groan, his eyes flicking to your flustered face.

“M-more… please?”

Though there was part of him that wanted to make you beg and plead for more, he wanted to fuck you too much to pause and wait. They had all of the time in the world to make love, but right now he needed you desperately.

His hips slapped against yours as he picked up the pace, claws gripping so tightly that you could feel them piercing your skin.

But that light pain paled in comparison to the intense pleasure you felt as your velvety walls clenched around him in your first orgasm of the night.

“So good… so fucking good…”

He groaned into your neck, breathing your scent mixed in with the smell of sex in the air. The prince could have gotten drunk off of that alone.

Your head soon grew fuzzy with pleasure, and all you could think of was how good it felt to be absolutely ravished by your mate.

All thoughts of gentleness were thrown out the window as he threw one of your legs over his shoulder so he could push deeper inside. He watched as he cock moved in and out, covered in your slick…

When he came, you felt yourself being stretched, his cock swelling inside of you. So much cum was stuffed into your womb, your tummy full of his seed.

Something about being filled with your mate’s cum felt… right. Like it was the natural thing to do, he needed to stuff you full of his seed like a good mate should…

He stayed inside for a while, rutting against you even as he continued to cum. He didn’t want to leave your warmth…

But despite that, he was nowhere near satisfied… but despite your whines, he pulled out a moment later.

“… gods… don’t fret, my love… we can continue after dinner. Trust me, you’ll need your energy for tonight.”

He gave your clit one last teasing flick before pulling your soaked panties back over your cunt.

“Ah, my love… you’ll need another bath. I’ll fetch the-“

You held onto his hand, shaking your head. “I wanna… take a bath with you…”

In reality you didn’t want to be with those gossiping women again. The things they said about the prince upset you, and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to hold your tongue this time.

Even if some of the rumors might be true, your mate wasn’t some monster. He was kind to you, he yearned for acceptance in a world that deemed him weak for having scars.

“A bath with me, hmm? Can’t get enough of me can you?”

Though he was teasing you, it was clear the fact you wanted to stay near him brought the prince endless joy. “It seems my puppy knows where her home is already.”

This made you pout, and he cooed over you. “Oh, don’t make that face, I’m joking.”

With that he lifted you up, kissing your forehead. “Of course you can bathe with me. I’d rather not have anyone else see you covered in my seed anyways.”

You let him rinse you off, his hands lingering on your messy cunt as his cock fucked your thighs. You were both still feeling needy, wanting to fuck like rabbits, but were holding back.

It wasn’t easy, and you felt your cheeks grow warm over how much a whore you’d become in 24 hours. All you could think of was him sinking his cock inside of you again…

“Mmm…” he purred against your neck, rubbing the washcloth over your tits as his cock stayed nestled between your thighs. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your body…”

He gently squished your soft belly, playing with your warm and malleable fat. “So squishy, I love it so much…”

From one look around the palace you noticed most of the women were quite thin, so it was safe to assume he really had never been in the arms of a woman like you.

You were chubby, with thick thighs and an ample bosom. To just commoners, you were seen as a fertile woman that could handle childbirth without any problems.

And it seemed his dragon side went completely feral at that thought.

The two of you cuddled as you waited for the servant girls to bring your fitted dresses. There was a fluffy robe for each of you waiting on the freshly cleaned bed after your bath.

This was what being rich probably felt like. Being waited on hand and foot, not even having to tell someone to clean your cum and sweat soaked sheets.

With an embarrassed squee, you made a mental note to thank the women that had to clean that up later. It couldn’t have been an easy task.

A knock on the door caused you to look up. The servant girl from before bowed, walking in and offering her hand.

“I can dress you n-“

The prince pulled you back into his lap, growling lowly as his scales popped up all over his body. Even his face looked more reptilian than human.

“Don’t you dare touch her without my permission.”

You blinked in surprise, glancing up at him and raising an eyebrow. He seemed almost feral, and you could feel him rubbing against you, trying to make sure you were covered in his scent.

The servant girl was on the floor, trembling and holding her arms up to defend herself, which caused your mate to ease up. You could tell he felt guilty for lashing out at a defenseless woman, but he was on edge knowing you’d be seeing his stepmother again at dinner.

“… I apologize, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

His grip loosened on you, allowing you to feel all forward and help the woman up. “Get her dressed… then take the day off.”

You glanced back at him as the servant girl dressed yiu with shaking hands. It was clear he felt terrible despite the cold facade he had up. You knew you mate well, already able to tell when he was upset.

“My love…”

He perked up when you were fully dressed, your hair and makeup done to perfection. The prince’s tail slapped against the floor, his cheeks flushed a light pink.

“You’re gorgeous…”

When he realized how lovestruck he looked, the prince cleared his throat. His signature cocky smirk overtook his face once more, and he offered his arm to you. “May I escort you to the banquet, my princess?”

You gave him a fond smile, taking his arm. “It would be an honor, my prince.”

He escorted you to the banquet, barely holding back from grabbing your ass as his hand slipped to your lower back. You just smelled way too fragrant, making his cock twitch in his pants as he imagined being inside of you again.

“Welcome.”

The prince froze in place, his hand pausing on the small of your back as he met eyes with his father’s wife.

“Mother. Thank you for putting this together…” he said, his tail slowly wrapping around your lower half and pulling you close. It seemed his dragon features became more prominent when he wanted to protect you…

“I hope your little… mate knows proper etiquette. She will not embarrass me at this banquet. Having a commoner, a mere human peasant as a mate is already humiliating enough, so make sure you keep her in check.”

Your smile faltered, an uncomfortable silence falling over the two of you.

The prince’s jaw tensed up. “… don’t speak of her as if she is not here. Whether you like it or not, she’s my mate and I love her.”

Her face became even colder, her eyes narrowing. “You should watch who you’re talking to. I’m the empress, y-“

“And? (Name) will soon be the empress herself, so have some damn respect!”

His stepmother drew back, clutching her pearls. “I hope you know your father will hear about this!”

With that, she turned on her heels and left. You glanced at him, holding onto his sleeve. “… why does she treat you like that? You don’t deserve it…”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “It’s because I’m the son of a concubine. She hasn’t been able to birth a son for my father, meaning none of her children will be able to take the throne. It’s pathetic, and I’m not afraid of her anymore.”

He pulled out your chair for you, smiling fondly. “When I was a child, she used to terrorize me… but I have someone I need to protect now. I don’t have time to be afraid of some old hag.”

Before you could sit, he took your seat and pulled you into his lap. “Maybe it’s better if you stay close. She can be pretty vindictive. And…”

You felt his bulge rub lightly against you.

“We should have some fun at our own banquet, shouldn’t we?”

The table was filled with various foods, some you had never seen before, but everything smelled absolutely delicious.

There were deities taking seats all around you, some glancing your way but quickly turning when the prince bared his fangs. Not a single person dared to challenge him, not when his protectiveness was high due to mating with you for the first time.

The emperor and empress entered the banquet hall, and everyone stood besides you and the prince. He kept you seated on his lap, lightly moving your hips along his clothed erection.

The two took their seats, and the emperor waved his hand, causing everyone to sit as well.

“As you all know by now, you've all been gathered here to celebrate my son’s success in finding his mate. Now that he has one, the throne shall be passed down to him after the wedding.”

Whispers broke out among the dinner guests, some upset and others curious. You wanted to hide away, having everyone’s eyes on you made your heart race.

“Silence.”

Not a single peep could be heard when the emperor’s voice rang out in the banquet hall, echoing off the walls.

“I heard my son was disrespectful towards the empress. Was that right, my son?”

The empress stared down at the happy couple, her lip twitching into a sinister smile. The prince gave his father a nod.

“She bad mouthed my mate. If you were in my shoes, you would have done the same thing.”

Before the empress could retort, the emperor held up his hand. “I see. I hope my family can get along in the future. After all, my son will soon be the emperor.”

His eyes shifted towards the empress. “Some of you would do well to remember that soon, he will be the one in charge.”

The empress quietly seethed after that, and the banquet continued without a hitch. As you ate, he rubbed at your belly, his fingers occasionally brushing against your crotch.

He was an absolute horndog, needing you like a man dying of thirst needs water.

“We’ll be taking our leave now,” your mate announced once you both had your fill. He did nothing to hide his erection, lifting you into his arms.

“I hope you keep your promise to make sure no one bothers us, father.”

The emperor simply chuckled, waving the two of you away. “Go on, you won’t be disturbed.”

With every step he took towards your shared bedchambers, the prince became more beastly. It seemed it was hard to keep his human form when he was this needy for you.

The second you were both behind closed doors, his cock was already out of his pants and rubbing against your back, his hands trembling with excitement as he lifted your dress to stare at your drooling cunt.

“You need me, don’t you princess?”

His fingers dragged along your wetness, gathering up your slick before bringing it to his mouth. “I could taste you for hours…”

You felt his fingers pump in and out of you, and this time he wasn’t as gentle. He bit down on your thigh, leaving a few hickeys and bite marks along your soft flesh.

Anyone that saw you would know you were his, the prince would make sure of that.

Your brain was already starting to turn to mush, you weren’t sure if you’d be completely luciduribg this. It just felt so good, he was an expert at this.

His long, textured tongue lapped at your folds. It was almost like a cat’s tongue, just less rough, and it was replacing his fingers. That’s how long it was.

He tongue fucked you, his hands squeezing your thighs as he drew out your moans and cries, lightly smacking your ass when you squirmed. It was a gentle warning to stay still…

The prince wanted to enjoy his meal.

You came around his tongue, clenching as your hips bucked wildly upwards, and only then did he draw back and give you a lust filled look.

That’s when he slowly pushed his cock into you, the familiar feeling of you warmth making him melt against you. Nothing else had ever made him feel so at home, he only got this feeling when he was buried inside of your cunt. This was where he was supposed to plant his seed, and he had to breed you.

He rammed into you, moving his lips to your neck to suck and bite at you as he pounded your poor pussy.

But after a moment, he pulled out, his hand on your belly as he panted softly. The way you whimpered and begged for him to continue was endearing, but he had other things in mind.

“You’re mine… and I just can’t hold back anymore…”

His form frew, his cock nearly doubling inside as he became the closest to a dragon yet. Dark scales covered his body, massive arms at eaither of your sides keeping you caged underneath him. His scaly underbelly brushed against you,

Though his cock was intimidatingly big and would stretch you out to your limit, he knew he could fit it inside of you.

It throbbed, laying against your belly as he leaned forward to nudge his dragon head against your face in an affectionate and possessive display.

Though for a moment you felt fear seeing such a beast hovering over you, his eyes met yours and you relaxed. This was still the prince… and you loved him even in this form. Not despite it, no, you adored his smooth black scales that felt like cool river rocks and the warmth of his belly.

“I need you…” he murmured, his chest rumbling with a purr. “If… you don’t want this, I’ll-“

You lifted your hips, letting the top lip of his cock rub against your folds. He let out a growl, his hips snapping forward, and you felt him pushing in.

Even though the stretch felt like your virginity was being taken for a second time, you kissed his snout. “O want this…”

With your confirmation, he sunk fully in, giving you a moment to adjust before he began to move.

Moans and whimpers echoed through the room as your lover fucked you stupid. With each slap of his hips against yours, you saw stars.

Your tummy bulged with his cock, his claw running over the imprint. “You’re taking me so well, such a good little mate…”

His balls tightened, and he roared as he came inside of you for the first time that night. Hot, thick ropes of sticky cum shot inside of you, filling your womb and making your belly feel hot.

But he wasn’t done with you, not even close.

The prince turned you on your back, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he mounted you, pounding your pussy at an animalistic pace. Your cunt clenched around him so perfectly, the fat flesh on your ass rippling with each powerful thrust.

A clawed hand reached between your legs, carefully rubbing at your clit. He loved the way you came around his cock, how you cried out for more even as you were stuffed to the brink with his cum.

“I know, my sweet, you want it all don’t you? Selfish little thing, but I love you all the same.”

He pushed your face into the pillow, growling and purring into your ear as he listened to your muffled moans. You were drooling, your eyes glazed over with pleasured tears, and his chest swelled with pride to know he was the one making you feel this way.

No one else could see you in this state. Your body bare and covered in your own cum, his beginning to drip out of your cunt. You were an utter mess, only able to moan and babble out pleas for more, and each time you did he fulfilled your requests.

After all, he was a good mate. You wanted him to touch you, to increase his speed, or change the angle of his hips so his cock hit the perfect spot? He’d do so in a heartbeat, all to please you.

The prince slumped over you, slowly reverting back to his humanoid form as he came inside of you again. You were worn out, and he could see your pussy clenching around nothing when he pulled out.

“Aww, still needy…”

He gathered up some of his cum, cooing softly as he shoved it back into you with his fingers, pumping them in and out. “Look at you, wasting all of this. Naughty girl, do I have to start all over again?”

The night was long, and every time you grew too exhausted to carry on, he used a bit of his power to rejuvenate you. Heated kisses were left along your bruised skin, a satisfied purr leaving his throat as he spotted some of the hickeys and bites he had given you earlier.

“You look so pretty, decorated with my marks. No one else would dare to even lay a finger on you, not when you’re completely covered in my scent and bites.”

He nuzzled against your neck as you sat on his lap, cockwarming him. The prince was kind enough to give you a break, though he couldn’t bear to pull out of you, even for a second.

The prince smiled fondly, rubbing his hand over your swollen belly. “You know… I’d be happy if you were able to carry my young, but I know there’s a chance it won’t happen due to our difference in anatomy.”

He nibbled softly on your neck and shoulder. “But I don’t care, you’re my mate regardless. Having children would be nice but it’s not a necessity.”

You sighed in relief. In all honesty, part of you had been afraid he would abandon you for another celestial deity if you could not produce an heir. You were only human after all…

His teeth grazed your jaw, but you felt no fear. “Mmm… I’ve only known you a day but it feels like an eternity. Perhaps that is what being soul bonded to someone feels like…”

“I feel that way too… it’s like we’ve always been together, or at least… we were meant to be.”

The two of you shared a kiss, one of his hands on your ample breast, squeezing the soft flesh as his tongue ran across yours.

Once you both were worn out and the sun had come up, he finally curled up in bed with you to rest properly. Binge again you felt almost like a newborn baby being held and protected, safe and warm. You were getting used to this kind of thing… getting used to being loved.

When you awoke with a whine, you were being carried away by the prince. He glanced down, giving you a quick kiss. “Quiet now, love. We’re going to escape for a bit. Let’s call it our early honeymoon.”

You let out a laugh, quickly shushed by your mate. “But we haven’t even married yet, love.”

The prince grinned. “Yes, but once we’re married I’ll have too many responsibilities to take care of because I’ll be emperor. Let’s enjoy our freedom until then.”

He leapt across a sea of stars, and you reached down to touch it. Bits of stardust clung to your fingertips, glowing brightly.

“There’s a hot spring, we’ll relax there for a few days… or until they notice we’re missing.”

The celestial hot springs were beautiful, and once you stepped into the water, you felt your body relax and melt. “Oh wow…”

The prince pulled you in, holding you in his lap. “B-but this isn’t the mixed bath, you shouldn’t-“

You were quieted when his cock nudged against you. The two of you were both still very sensitive from your mating bond, there was no way you could say no to having him inside of you.

“Mmm…”

He admired your curves, one of his hands giving your soft belly a squish as you lowered yourself onto his cock. “Pretty girl knows where the best seat in the house is, doesn’t she?”

You pouted, but he was right. The last few days had been utter bliss, you were already addicted to your mate’s scent and cum.

Just a whiff of his cologne or musk was enough to have you clench around him, and he was close to bursting when he smelled your arousal.

“Good girl, my sweet little mate…”

He bounced you on his cock lazily, sinking into the water a bit as he licked at your neck.

“I love you, (Name).”

You leaned against his chest, letting him guide your hips up and down. He was good at this, knowing when to speed up or change his rhythm to really get you going.

“And I love you, my prince. More than anything… you’ve made my life worth living.”

He tucked your head under his chin, embracing you. It wasn’t long before the two of you were done in the hot springs and ready to continue your love making in the bedroom.

The two of you spent several days at the hot spring, enjoying the water, food, and making love as often as possible. By the time someone came to pick you up, you were sure the hot spring was at least 80% cum.

‘Sorry, future customer,’ you thought to yourself, leaving against the prince as he guided you to the carriage.

It had all been like a dream. He had whisked you away into a fairy tale world, making you feel like a real life princess.

For the rest of your life, he would worship and adore you. With every kiss and touch, that fact was made clear.

To be loved by the prince was an honor. You were the thing he treasured the most, and you would continue to love him just as he was.

“Do you think dreams come true?” your asked, leaning against his shoulder as the carriage continued on towards the palace.

“Mhm, I do,” the prince murmured, pulling you closer. “Because I’ve been dreaming of this my entire life… and I finally have you.”

You smiled and drifted off in his arms, feeling like the luckiest girl ever.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[rissouu]

nerdy!choso who was sick of letting you walk around, doing whatever you pleased. the day you asked him to be your tutor was when his whole world flipped upside down. him? tutor the most popular girl in school??

it was okay at first, but somewhere along the line your saturday study sessions turned into saturday fuck sessions. you were his first and it didn’t surprise you much.. choso was the school’s number one nerd, and sure he was hot but no girl dared to associate with him, let alone fuck him.

but you were different in so many ways, you treated him like fragile glass that you knew better than to break. you liked to test him sometimes though, just to see if he’d drop the innocent boy act. usually your schemes never worked.. but this time? oh he’d had enough.

“this what you wanted fuckin’ stuck up brat?” choso chuckled darkly, anger radiating off him in waves. large hands struck down, bruising the skin of your ass for the 10th time.

he had you bent over his lap counting every spank and if you missed even a single one, he’d get a belt.

one look at him had your body quivering, his head was tilted and hair messy as his eyes pierced yours. “thought it was cute to stop sharing your location wimme’ huh mama?”

you shook your head which earned nothing but a chuckle from him. rough fingers danced around your clit, flicking it back and forth despite your overstimulation.

a sharp pain had you whimpering, it was only then you realized what was going on. choso sunk his teeth into your cheek with no intentions of stopping until the mark of his teeth was visible.

“how about i start spanking this pretty pussy next?” he smiled when you waved your ass around in anticipation, his greedy greedy girl. “nah.. think ‘m gonna fill her up instead. maybe then you’ll stop fuckin’ playing with me,”

no way this was your same nerdy!choso from before…

©rissouu 2024 (pls i need a choso in my life)..