He Gives Off Brat-tamer Vibes

He gives off brat-tamer vibes 🤭

however him saying degrading names such as whore, yea i also dont think he would do that.

omg he’s such a gentleman when he wants to be (im delulu 🤩🤭)

Reasons why I strongly believe Sylus would not call MC a whore during intimate moments. (Really nothing serious, these are shower thoughts.)

If no no true then why sound so good???

1. He is a pleaser. "But what if that pleases me?" He would make sure to treat you so well you’d change the way you viewed yourself.

2. He respects MC (although secretly), too much to let his lips form those words.

3. He is very literal, if you were a whore then he would be very similar to a madam.

4. He would think of it as too degrading to you, going back to number 2.

5. He really thinks of you as an equal, whereas degradation goes against that.

I’ve read fanfics where he was calling the mc by this term and sometimes even enjoyed it. I’m just saying that after thinking about it for a bit, he really wouldn’t.

Do I think that he’d be commanding? Dominant? Absolutely.

Maybe even slightly "using" you, if that was what you wanted, but full on fifty shades ? I don’t know.

This also isn’t to shame anyone. (hopefully doesn’t come across that way either)

(I do think he’d call you a brat. It would be accurate.)

PLEASE OMG DESPERATE CLAN ELADER GOJO IS SO HOTBAJDB

The Heir - G.S.

Synopsis. No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, established relationship, he’s cray-cray (for you), bréeding - like a LOT, oral (fem receiving), unprotected, creampíe, marathon, séx, running from it, use of “my wife”, overstim, FÉRAL Satoru, absolutely heinous, mentions of kníves and bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.3k

A/N. Guess what ya girlie is back with clan leader Gojo hehe.

An heir to the Gojo clan - no matter how small, how weak - could eradicate all three of the big clans before even being born. Much like their father. 

You knew that. Satoru knew that. And, unfortunately for him, so did the stuck-up old toad currently sputtering across from him. 

“I am not asking for permission.” Satoru smiles, deathly calm. “Simply that everyone vacates the Estate. After all, what the madam wants, the madam shall get.”

“But- but young master! It’s madness- An heir can tip the scales of power like never before!” The elder lunges frantically over the meeting room table. “I cannot allow- a-and considering the madam’s lowly lineage-”

Schwing!

They say that the infamous young head of the Gojo clan has a katana as hauntingly beautiful as he is - a blade of pure white, with a sapphire hilt. Though, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale - and Satoru wasn’t about to let that change anytime soon. 

The long, deceptively delicate sword glints sharply against Satoru’s humorless grin, and those cold, cold eyes. Unblinking - crazed, as he hums, “What did you say about my wife?”

The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, “I- it could- the scale of ah-”

“No.” The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoru’s tutting, “Try again.”

“Th-the madam!” Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elder’s forced to echo his words. “It is no lie that her b-background is…unsuitable-”

Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life he’d been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like he’d wanted, then none of this would’ve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you? 

Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. “Do you know why you’re here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer - couldn’t care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, “My lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesn’t like for me to get my hands dirty.”

He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder should’ve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Should’ve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, “S-see young master. I told- you-”

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he’s chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. “She’d make such a perfect mother, don’t you think?”

---

SLAM!

You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.

Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-

Oh. Oh shit. 

Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. 

What the fuck happened?

“Satoru?” you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like he’d finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, “Are you o-”

You’ve barely made it two steps before Satoru’s closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!

You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesn’t show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than you’ve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.

And it’s times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet. 

Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, “Are you okay, Toru?”

And oh. 

Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoru’s entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. “An heir.” Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, “Would you give me an heir, my wife?”

You weren’t making it out alive. 

You’re gasping - partially because of his words, partially because that’s all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. “Wha- an heir?”

It’s not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where you’d mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didn’t expect him to even have heard the question let alone this. 

Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, “An heir. You think I’d ever deny you, pretty?” Like he couldn’t believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, “My heir.”

It’s like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, “N’ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.”

And for the second time today, you’re actually registering that this wasn’t the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.

“Satoru…” You pull his face back.

“No- no no please- Come back-” you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. “Was jus’ one I swear- m’sorry about gettin’ the fabric dirty.”

“Satoru.”

“Wasn’t gonna break you where everyone could hear right?” 

And fuck he doesn’t wait to hear a response, no - it’s been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy. 

“Sa-toru!” you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane. 

“Shhh shhh, m’here m’here.” he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. “Fuck- m’here.” He’s licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, “N’ m’gonna ruin-” One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, “-her.”

But, alas, no matter how many times Satoru’s done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him. 

With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless. 

Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. “Mmm- ” Pulling back just enough to mutter, “Gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?” 

It’s all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe. 

“Is my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?” He gasps out, strangled. “An heir?” He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. “One to take out all these dumb fucks?” Again, so dizzyingly. And again. “Oh how I’d love to see their fuckin’ faces.” And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - “An heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.”

And then your yukata’s being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.

“Oh, look at you.” his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. “Fuck- the mother of my kids.” He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, “I need to- fuck!” 

Before you know it he’s pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs. 

You whine at the feeling of Satoru’s thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.

But he could barely hear - fuck, you didn’t even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.

“Need to fill these up- s’gonna be so sweet. So full.” he’s blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. “I can only hope they hah- share, right?”

You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoru’s leg. “P-please, Toru. Don’t tease.”

And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids. 

With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey. 

“And this-” Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, “Oh this. Gonna be so round n’ pretty. Absolutely glowing f’me, right? Fuck!” 

Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin. 

“Oh.” he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, “You can kill me if you’re not with my heir by the time we’re done, pretty.”

A promise.

And with it went whatever was left of Satoru’s poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive. 

Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt. 

“Oh god- There we go.” he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, “Better wish her good luck tonight.”

And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash with how fast he’s pushing his face into your pussy.

“Mm-” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. “Fuck that. Even luck won’t save you from me- hah-”

“Toru!” you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. “Hngh- s’too-”

He was going too fast too soon. 

You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. “Now now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya can’t even handle this, pretty?”

Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have told me about an heir.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. “Fuuuck you shouldn’t h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.”, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. “Fuck- just look at you. You’re so wet I could fuck you just like this.”

As if to prove his point, he’s urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily. 

Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoru’s eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-

“Ohh. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. “Ya like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?”

Your embarrassed little whine isn’t enough of an answer for your husband. No, he’s pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out. 

Making out with your cunt so sloppily, “Tha’s more like it.” Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. “Fuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.” Satoru’s fucking into your sloppy hole the way he’s been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. “After all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?”

Faster. Sloppier. 

Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, “Yes! Please- wan’- ngh” Thighs squeezing around Satoru’s fervent head, “W-wan you to jus’ breed me, Toru-”

Oh.

Fuck, you might’ve just signed your will away at this point. 

Because in a split-second, you’re cumming. 

Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoru’s hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high. 

And he’s more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him. 

But it’s not long before Satoru’s pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you. 

Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether you’d be on it, too. 

“Heh, kill count?” Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Funny, real funny.” And with that, he’s thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. “Wonder if our- hah- kid’s gonna have your-” Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, “-humor?”

And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but. 

Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers. 

“Y-you’re so mean-”

“And yer killin’ me- ohhh you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, “Fuck-”

You can’t help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoru’s blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting. 

Before you even know what’s happening, he’s circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. “Can only pray m’not dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.”

It’s like something breaks. And Satoru’s remembering that no, this isn’t just any child - it’s the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips. 

“Oh! Toru- f-fuck wait s’too big-” you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. “It’s ah-”

“No.” he spits into your sagging mouth. “No no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.” Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!”

And you can’t do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea. 

Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoru’s massive cock was enough to have you running away. 

You’d barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoru’s dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock. 

“Need this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.” he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. “Need to breed this cunt so bad.”

Some tiny, useless part of Satoru’s rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldn’t stop. 

So he’s simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is. 

Satoru hisses at the way you’re so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. “Think I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.” Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. “Can’t- can’t stop-”

The change in angle makes you scream out Satoru’s name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally. 

Fuck, you weren’t making it out alive.

“Oh.” he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he could’ve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. “You’re in s-so deep ngh- S’like you’re pushing into my ngh- lungs.”

Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, he’s feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.

Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way he’s been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting. 

And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock. 

“-n’ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. N’ when I was at that meeting-” he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. “S’all I could hah- think of. Everything - don’t give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.”

Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.

So merciless - violent even - with the way he’s slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace. 

A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. “Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. “M-more.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, “You want more?”

And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless. 

Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more. 

“Fuck!” your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoru’s hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like he’d lost control. “O-oh please, Toru-”

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-

“Aw, my poor girl.” you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, “S’alright. M’gonna take care of it. You jus’ hafta take it- jus’ take it like the good lil’ wife you are.” his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. “N’ I’ll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.” So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. “I’ll wash ‘em and hah- clothe ‘em n’ t-teach ‘em to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.”

“T-Toru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name. 

His perfect wife. 

Sobbing out, “Close! So close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

He was losing his fucking mind. 

Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, “Then cum. Fucking cum. Please- wan’ you to cum on my cock.” Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, “Cum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.”

Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it. 

Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he can’t help but cum, too. 

You don’t know who’s more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high. 

Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt. 

“So muchhh.” you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. “S’too much.”

And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base. 

“Too much?” Satoru hisses. “Too much?”

You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesn’t ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard. 

“There we hah- go. Better now?” The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoru’s cock - even down to his thighs. “Now we got fuck- more space.”

You don’t even realize you’re scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, “No no no- we’re not done, pretty. Fuckkk we’re far from done.” Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. “Gotta make sure it takes. Why else d’you think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again. 

A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. “So that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.” Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. “T-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. They’ll be the most powerful- hah- jus’ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.”

So debauched and fucked-out that you don’t even know what he’s running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily. 

“Don’t know?”

Fuck. You said it out loud again. 

And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you. 

Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.

“S’alright, pretty.” he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. “Because you just have to sit there n’ ngh- take- it.”

If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now. 

Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid. 

“Ah!” you’re startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoru’s heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. “T-Toru…you- ngh- o-okay?”

The only response you get is an unsteady nod. 

“-the best.” he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. “We’ll be the best parents- ngh-” And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.

Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before he’s seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white. 

So warm with his cum - him - that Satoru’s body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. “C’mon, pretty, c-can’t get ngh pregnant if ya don’t oh- cum.”

And it’s so embarrassing how that’’s all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoru’s. 

“Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.” you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say. 

Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.

And, evidently, Satoru was, too. 

“Pretty…” his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didn’t bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. “Are- sure- ngh-” 

And with a jolt, you realize he’s still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him. 

If anyone saw Satoru like this, they’d have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, “Are we- hah- sure it took?”

“Wh-what-” you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. “Yes- yes yes- oh my god it’won’t-”

“It will.” Satoru’s interruption almost comes out as a whine. And he’s more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. “Th-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?”

It’s almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.

But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, “Right? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-”

He’s darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoru’s hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. “Gonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?”

You’re using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoru’s fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit. 

Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off. 

And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But he’s finally cumming again, and so are you. 

“Ngh- Fuck-”

With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. “Toru- c-cumming.”

You’re not sure, anymore. And you don’t know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.  “-the best- momma.”

A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the “can’t get pregnant without the momma cumming” bit was based on this old tale I’d heard where people used to gen believe that. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

i need this man so bADDD

Like i don’t wanna be so super dependent on him for free so ITS PERFECT THAT I GOTTA KINDA WORK FOR IT 🤩

oky so i finally finished the main story update and i DEFINITELY prefer that sylus to his cards. but i also just now want to be his sugar baby 🥹

hear me out right, he wants you to spend his money but you also still have to earn it?? you're his sugar baby, his little kitten not a freeloader.

asdfhsjgskd its so stupid but imagine it being like a chore wheel— a check list of requirements. and when you bounce up to his desk while he's reviewing some documents, asking for his card, and he just like gives you this assessing look before asking you these laundry list of things

did you do your exercises in the gym? yes, sylus

have you cleaned and restocked all your guns? i haven't even shot them this week. because honestly, what was the point of recleaning spotless? but then his eyes get this bit of a wispy look in them like he's considering how long he might withhold his card and you fold. yes, i did. also we're low on gun oil.

the point is, he provides but he still has expectations of you. when he uses his card, its for your necessities. but when you get a hold of it, its a glorified shopping spree.

and he knows this. and he's fine with that. he has the money sitting there, burn it.

but when he let's you loose to take advantage of that, most importantly, he has to know that you're safe.

which is why he pulls your pliant body closer, red eyes never leaving yours as his hand slides along the length of your thigh before reaching the holster.

his hum of approval feels like a light rumble against his lips as they press to yours briefly.

"good kitten. have fun. "

AUGHHHH THE THINGS IM FEELING PLEaSEEEE

THEY’RE BEING A TEASE - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : NSFW obviously, sexting, masturbation, penetrative sex, fingering, phone sex, filming oneself, sending nudes, orgasm control, cockwarming, consensual somnophilia, use of sex toys in public, public sex, implied exhibitionism, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : filth smut

Additional notes : Needed to take multiple cold showers after this WHEW😮‍💨 Thank you nonnie for your massive sexy brain. To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

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FOR REALLLLLLL‼️‼️

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind boggling, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride

sub zayne??? YES PLEASEE

☾ .⭒˚ Snowy Serenity ♡ Zayne x AFAB!Reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: sub zayne x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, porn with some plot, porn with feelings

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 7.7k

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, explicit sexual content, somewhat public sex, f!riding, blowjob m!receiving, unprotected sex, sub zayne, like he’s kinda whiny and needy here, but tastefully, vulnerable zayne fr, kinda dom!reader, reader is kind of a menace here LOL, pretty vanilla for the most part, multiple orgasms m!receiving, lots of feelings, use of y/n,  lots of making out, some fluff at the end?

⋆.˚ ☾ video link: not necessary to watch in order to read and enjoy, but i highly recommend watching the memory for context and a visual for the fic! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P1TQQqqSH5U

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: SURPRISE IT’S HERE EARLY!! I really wanted to get this one out ASAP so I could start on a new jiyan (wuthering waves) fic hehe, so stay tuned if you like the sound of that! 

This is my take and continuation on the new “Snowy Serenity” Zayne memory, with slight dialogue tweaks! Zayne is very vulnerable, needy, and overall sub in this one, so if you’re not a fan of that this will prob not be your fav! You can read any of my other Zayne fics, in which he is dom in all of them :D it’s a new version of Zayne for me, so I did my best!! Apologies if it’s not the best take on a sub Zayne.

I hope you guys are doing great <3 i miss writing for you guys. PLEASE ENJOYYYY ya filthy zayne enjoyers (me)

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚

The deafening sound of metal thudding shut resounded in the frigid air of the underground shelter you found yourself and Zayne seeking safe haven in. Through the pounding of your thundering heart, you don’t notice Zayne thrusting a first aid kit into your frozen fingers, and then backing against the opposite wall, as far away from you as he can get. 

You can vaguely hear the roars of wanderers lingering outside and in the halls of the abandoned protocore energy converter you’d traversed the blizzard to find after Zayne had gone missing for 4 days, 1 day longer than he had promised he’d be gone for. The ground slightly trembled as the beasts raged on outside, growing fainter as they grew tired and uninterested in waiting for the two of you. 

Your heart pounds forcefully, almost painfully, the energy fluctuations causing irregular palpitations that make it feel as if your chest might explode. Thankfully, it slowly comes to a gentle and regular beat and Zayne’s voice finally reaches your ears.

“You need to tend to your arm. Can you do it by yourself?” his voice comes out incredibly pained and forced. At first you assume it’s from the, no doubt, plethora of injuries he’d likely endured after being stuck on the frozen mountain for days, but when your eyes reach his green ones, you notice the emotional turmoil and anguish locked behind his darkened emerald irises. 

The surgeon sits at the wall farthest from you, skin looking even paler than you remember under the dim lights of the abandoned shelter, the frost spreading across his throbbing neck, glistening like the sun against the shimmering sea. You notice how the frozen flakes form not only on his skin like usual, but even on the collar of his thick black coat, and on the sleeves that cut off at his wrist. You stop yourself from shivering at the sight, realizing you’ve never seen Zayne like this. You’ve seen him struggle to control his Evol before, much to his dismay, but nothing like this. 

You trace his line of vision to the shard of ice, formed into the unmistakable shape of an arrow, embedded shallowly in your arm. You suck in a breath, realizing Zayne must have accidentally struck you when he’d aimed to attack the wanderers that’d surfaced behind you. From the pain on his face, you know Zayne realized it too. 

Wanting it out immediately, so as not to give Zayne any extra reasons to want to keep his distance, you carelessly yank it out. It takes a bit of force, but the wound is so shallow you don’t even flinch. Not that you’d say this to Zayne, but you’d definitely dealt with far worse and bloodier as a hunter. 

The frighteningly beautiful piece of ice shatters as you chuck it at the ground, rushing to his side without a second thought. You ignore him weakly shuffling away from you, taking his large hand into the two of your smaller ones. His skin is even icier than usual, and your heart clenches at the thought of him having to brave the arctic snowstorm by himself these past few agonizing days. 

Surprise overtakes you when Zayne doesn’t yank his hand away. You could count on one hand how many times Zayne had let you see him lose control of his Evol, but not once had he ever let you get close enough to really inspect him. The idea that he felt so defeated and exhausted right now that he could not physically push you away was enough to make tears well in your eyes, your throat catching as you forced them away.

Squeezing his hand in yours, you take this rare chance to really closely inspect your boyfriend, who sat so diligently before you. It’s then you notice that it’s not just frost that blankets his pale skin. You hold back a cry when your eyes follow the line of tiny, sharp, and deadly shards of ice protruding from his body. Your teeth gnashes against your lip as you do your best to hold back the sobs that threaten to escape as you stare at the icicles. It felt depressingly poetic, how something so beautiful could be hurting him so.

“Zayne! You –” But Zayne silences you when he brings his finger and free hand to his lips, forcing a smile as he gently shushes you.

“You can scold me all you want…after we leave here, all right?” You purse your lips at his words, wanting to give into his wishes but unable to withhold your overflowing emotions and concern.

“...This always happens. And you owe me big time already,” you grumble sulkily, bringing his hand that’s encased in yours up to your lips, puffing out frustratedly in hopes to warm him up with your breath. 

You sigh contentedly despite yourself when his cold finger finds its way to the side of your cheek, caressing your nearly frostbitten skin. You instinctively lean into his touch, not caring in the least how his ice cold skin leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

“Didn’t I say I’d call you once I got out? Why did you come here alone?” Zayne’s tone sounds accusatory and upset, almost like he was scolding a child for your poor judgment and bad choices. 

“You haven’t said anything for more than three days. And without you, there won’t be anyone to make sure I eat breakfast,” you bite back. The harsh words you want to tell him die on your lips, as you simply shake your head in disbelief, not wanting to argue with the stubborn surgeon. Your heart had ached dearly for him in the last week, and infinitely more so in the last 4 days. You could berate him later, for now you just wanted to relish in the fact that he was safe. 

You release his hand, instead wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him tightly to your chest in a bone crushing hug. You slot your body firmly against his, feeling absolutely unwilling to ever let him out of your sight and arms again. 

Zayne shudders gently against your hold, but doesn’t make any moves to push you away. He groans inwardly, silently praying you assume his reactions are a result from the shards of ice piercing his skin, and not a result of your touch after he’d been starved of you for a week.

His voice is muffled as he speaks into the crook of your neck, “You might get hurt. It’s possible I won’t…” you can vaguely hear him gulp, “be able to control myself.” 

He clears his throat, continuing, “I’m referring to my Evol.” You don’t notice his eyes that are latched onto the angry red skin where you’d pulled the ice arrow out of your bicep. 

You pull away so that your faces come just mere inches apart, while still keeping your arms wrapped around him. Squinting at him, you grumble, “You should stay quiet while I’m still pitying you.”

With your breath mingling with his, you can practically see his resolve melt away as he sighs and wraps his muscular arms around your back. You smile to yourself at the feel of his strong hands around you, nuzzling your body impossible closer to his. His jaw subtly clenches at the feeling of your body melting into his, torn between embracing you fiercely and pushing you away. But the smell of your shampoo and pheromones invades his senses, making it difficult for him to think rationally.

“A while ago, someone promised me it was the last time I’d have to worry about him.”

Unable to keep himself back any longer, Zayne decides to give in, just a little. He buries himself into the top of your head into the mess of your hair, inhaling your scent deeply, “It’s not serious. I’ll survive.”

“I knew it. You’re better off not talking,” you scold sulkily, only half jokingly. He smiles into your head, letting a brief moment of welcomed silence come between you two. Unconsciously, your hold tightens against him. 

“Do you feel better?” 

“I do,” he reassures you, stroking your hair, “I’m okay now.”

You pull back slightly so you can take a good look at him. It’s then you notice the frost melting away from the areas in which your touch meets his body. Intrigued, you use your Evol, letting it emanate from the tips of your fingers, softly gripping an ice covered patch of his arm. You gasp when the snowy expanse recedes, almost like you held a flame to it.  

“What are you doing?” Zayne’s sudden voice cuts through your concentration, his urgent alarm almost bordering on frenzy.

“Zayne, my Evol can help you!”

“Impossible. You must be seeing things.” You’re taken aback at his cold tone, so surprised you don’t resist when he pushes you off him. His eyes refuse to meet yours.

“But it actually worked. Look!” You grab his wrist forcefully, the mere touch of your skin causing your Evols to resonate, the Resonance faintly rippling out of the area where your bodies meet. You gape in awe as you watch the icicles embedded in Zayne’s skin shrink back almost instantaneously and melt away into his coat. 

Zayne pulls his arm back and instead grasps your wrist in his strong fingers, eyes seemingly pleading with yours, “There will be a price to pay. It’s not as simple as you think.” His voice is low and desperate, unusually so. 

As the words leave his lips, a piercing sensation erupts in your palm from where your skin came into contact with his. The pain seems to frost over your veins rapidly, heading straight to your chest. You cry out as the muscles of your heart seemingly freeze and incinerate all at the same time, the muscles contracting painfully and far too quickly. Your knees buckle from the agony, and Zayne catches you with very little effort.

“Y/N!” 

The anguish in Zayne’s frantic voice causes you to seek him out, but your body refuses to cooperate, only able to allow him to carry you to the makeshift hospital bed set up in the abandoned shelter. As he sets you down, impossibly gently like you’re a withering flower, he speaks.

“Using your Evol to control the backlash of mine is dangerous. I don’t want –”

You ground yourself, forcing yourself to find your voice, “I told you to be quiet…Here you go again with ‘impossible’ and ‘you must be seeing things’...” Your tone is almost snappy, unhappy with how he’s always unwilling to share his pain with you, going as far as lying to keep you from taking any of the burden. 

As the pain in your heart ebbs away, you shake your head and sit up on the edge of the bed, “When will you finally say something I want to hear?” Zayne sits at the foot of the bed, his upper body twisted so that he faces you completely. 

His voice comes out as a reluctant whisper, “I want to protect you. Dragging you into a dangerous situation is the last thing I want.” He averts his gaze as the words leave his lips.

When he finally brings his eyes back to yours, a storm of emotions brew behind his glowing green-hazel eyes, “I don’t want the person I love to get hurt because of me.” His palm finds your cheek once more. Grazing your cheek faintly before looping your loose hair behind your ear. Your brief frustrations with him melt away as you watch the emotions flit across Zayne’s face. Your normally stoic and emotionally controlled boyfriend looked so vulnerable, desperate, and conflicted before you.

His despondent eyes lowered, almost like he was disappointed with himself. Your heart squeezes as your hand cupped his cheek, guiding him closer to you. 

“But the person you love might not feel the same way,” you counter tenderly, wanting to take away the agonizing sadness from his beautiful features. You hold his face lovingly, hoping to convey even a fraction of the adoration you have for him as his eyes cast downward, wrangling with the anger he felt with himself, at putting you in danger today. 

“She’s always wanted…to protect you as well,” at your words, Zayne grasps the hand you have on his cheek with his own palm, leaning further into your touch. You ignore the frost that ebbs into your own palm, like fracturing glass, at his touch. Instead, you focus on the vulnerability in Zayne’s eyes, as he sighs and turns his face so that he can brush his lips into your palm, pressing a fleeting kiss into your cold skin. 

“Really…I shouldn’t have let you see me like this,” he laments regretfully, but he doesn’t let go of your hand, insteading nuzzling into it like a child with their favorite security blanket. His gaze locks onto yours before faltering, the intensity behind his eyes crackling, silently pleading with you to understand. 

But you refuse to relent, removing your hand from his cheek and leaning in closer, pressing your hands against his frost covered chest, “But I’ve already decided to face this with you.” Your voice cracks as you continue, unwittingly expressing your insecurities.

“Unless…Unless you say you don’t need me.”

Zayne sighs, slightly in disbelief, “How could you think that?” When you don’t speak, he continues. 

“When we were apart these few days, I was always thinking about you,” he confesses, grabbing your wrist laid gently against his chest, clasping his long fingers over yours and intertwining your fingers. He continues, “Whether or not you’ve been eating properly, taking care of yourself, and if you would be upset if we never saw each other again – you occupied my every thought.”

Your breath is stuck in your throat as you take in the weight of his words. Zayne brings your joined hands back to his cheek, unfolding your fingers to cup his face, leaning into your touch once more. Your chest clenches at how adorably and unusually needy he’s being, your thumb stroking his blush.

“If I hadn’t been missing you…Perhaps I wouldn’t have struggled to hold on until you found me.” His words stun you. You hadn’t realized your relationship might ever cause Zayne grief, beyond being an irritable girlfriend. It never crossed your mind that it would pain Zayne to leave you behind when he’d have to go on month long medical missions to the arctic. That his thoughts would be so invaded by you that it’d make simply existing a difficult task. 

As you grapple with these revelations, Zayne leans in, holding your face so desperately in his hands and pulling you closer to him. Even sitting, he towered over you, his head coming down to whisper against your flushed skin, his breath fanning across your lips as he tilted your head upward towards him.

“I need you,” he states, his voice bordering on a plea, “I have never denied that. It’s just…”

You can hardly focus on his words as you watch his lips longingly, desperate to feel the cool expanse of his mouth slotting against yours. 

“It’s not the kind of need you think it is,” he murmurs, the vulnerability and desperation so apparent in the way his breath comes out in short pants. Unable to hold back any longer, Zayne crashes his lips to yours, letting all carnal desire take over. 

His large hands are firm against your cheek and neck, as if scared he’d lose you at any moment. At the same time, he pushes you backwards, gently lowering his thick weight onto you. Your back hits the rough sheets of the hospital bed while Zayne nibbles at your bottom lip, silently pleading with you to let him in. Instead of relenting, you swipe your tongue across his lip, urging the same of him. Zayne groans into your mouth, bordering dangerously close to a whine. 

The sound makes your gut clench with anticipation, your chest heaving with your breaths and your fist gripping his shoulder to bring him closer. 

But to your disappointment he pulls away, his eyes sparkling down at you sprawled out on the bed. His cheeks are flushed pink, lips puffy and pink, a rare sight for you to behold. The frost has rapidly started to melt away from his coat and even his skin, almost like your mere touch was enough to thaw the biting frozen reigns of his evol. 

Your hand snakes behind his neck, pulling him back towards your lips. Zayne looks slightly startled, his mouth  parted open in surprise, but he lets you guide him to you.

He pulls away after another brief kiss. You can tell by the expression on his flustered face that there’s more he wants to say to you, a rarity for Zayne. Normally the heart surgeon preferred to convey his emotions with his actions. You’d hardly ever seen him like this. 

“If I must say something now…Then I…” he trails off, trying to find the words. It’s obvious he’s out of his comfort zone as he once again averts his gaze, cheeks flushed an adorable peach. When he finally looks back up at you, stroking the side of your face with his fingers, his voice holds the heavy weight of his feelings, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Before you can respond, Zayne’s lips are descending upon yours once more, his eyelids hooded with desire. Desire for you.  

This time he kisses you with much more force, as if his confession had broken down the barriers of his restraint. His hand firmly holds your face, fingers threading into your hair, pulling harder, rougher. His hands are damp, the uncontrollable frost of his evol melting away as he beheld the love of his lives in his hands. 

Your tongues bruised along each other, savoring every second the pair of you had longed for so deeply this past week. His knee pushed into your thigh, spreading them apart fully so he could slot himself between your legs, hard body brushing against your pulsing core.

But just as fast as his desperation had come, Zayne was pulling away. You look at him in disappointment, a pout forming on your bruised lips. You waited for him to speak, but he only readjusts his tie, his eyes glued to the quickly purpling bruise forming on your bicep. You could visibly see his eyes darken, the anguish on his expression palpable. Though he doesn’t speak, you know what he’s thinking.

I’m glad you’re here, but I wish you weren’t. 

You sigh, knowing he’s torturing himself over accidentally hurting you, and the possibility that it could happen again. Though the glistening frost still ebbed on his skin, the icicles had receded and you were confident Zayne would not hurt you. 

Your hands instinctively seek him out, wanting to show him that you’re alright. You clutch the collars of his coat, yanking him to you with as much force as you can muster.

He groans under his breath, the need just barely audible.

“Y/N…” he warns, doing his best to keep his distance despite your desperate clutches. You ignore him, throwing your thigh over his lap and bringing his lips to yours once more. Zayne hisses as you seat yourself on his twitching thighs, his muscles straining under his restraint. Though he doesn’t push you off, he keeps his hands firmly at his sides, so as to not touch you.

With your lips never leaving his, you grab his hands and place them on your hips, simultaneously bearing down harder on his lap. A ghost of a smile finds its way to your mouth when you feel the unmistakable outline of his throbbing erection against the apex of your thighs. 

As you move to unbutton his shirt, Zayne’s strong fingers find your wrist, halting your desperate actions. 

“Not here. Not now,” Zayne grits. 

“No one will be here for hours,” you murmur, pleadingly against his cheek, “No one will find us.” You grind into his massive erection, biting your lip as you reminisce on just how well he can fill you up. The man beneath you pants at your movements, his fingers digging into your wrists. His grip is painful, yet you only find yourself wanting him to hold you tighter, rougher. 

“This is not the kind of place I ever wanted you to have to be, let alone…” he trails off, his voice low and dangerous.

“But I don’t care,” you protest, unintentionally squirming in his lap out of frustration. Zayne throws his head back, a stream of expletives leaving his lips.

“You truly love to test me, don’t you?”

You giggle, mistakenly taking his words as playful confirmation. But when you look into his eyes, you see just how tortured he really is. Immediately you stop.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, “If you don’t want –”

But Zayne cuts you off with a pained groan, “I need you.” His words echo what he’d said earlier.

Not the kind of need you think it is. 

“But I can’t control myself…not when I’m inside you… I could hurt you.”

You do your best to understand where he’s coming from, but it’s not enough to keep you away from him. “Zayne…” you murmur against his parted lips, “You trust me don’t you?”

“With my life,” he swears, sounding absolutely tormented, “It’s me I don’t trust.”

You gently stroke his neck, hands trailing down to his marbled chest, “Then let me take care of you, okay?”

The conflicting emotions swim rapidly in his eyes, but he finds himself giving in, his dick twitching, desperate to be inside your heat, "You'll have to take control.”

Instead of responding, you climb off his lap, sliding onto your knees before him. You guide his legs to spread as you settle between them. Your eyes never leave his as your fingers undo his belt, swiftly freeing his cock.

You bit back a gasp as you watched his thick manhood spring out, tapping against his heaving abdomen. After a week of deprivation, it was truly like witnessing his glory for the first time all over again. You thumb gently at the throbbing vein on the underside of his girth, mouth salivating at the mere sight of him. You trail your fingers up to his weeping slit, collecting the oozing pre cum there and smearing it across his thick tip.

Zayne pants, his fingers weaving into your hair, “Don’t tease me. Please.” You’re stunned at his words, enjoying  the rare instance of Zayne begging. 

“You said you needed me to take control…” you murmur, your voice coming out far more sultry than you’d ever heard it, “so let me.”

Zayne’s jaw clenches, his Adam's apple bobbing excitedly at the way you command him, “Okay.”

“Good boy,” you whisper, before guiding his leaking tip into your mouth. Zayne hisses, hips bucking upward into your mouth, but to his dismay you press him back down. Wordlessly, he understands what your actions are conveying and he reluctantly lets you resume the lead, not at all used to giving up control when it came to your collective pleasure. 

You swirl your tongue around his tip, rewarding him for his very thin patience. You enjoy the way his pleasured noises meet your ears, the grunts bordering on strangled whimpers. 

“Sh-shit,” he groans, doing his best to sit still for you, “Please Y/N.”

You let your lips tighten around his shaft as you briefly pop him out of your mouth, teasing him innocently, “Hmm?”

Zayne groans at your feigned innocence, not used to being the one needing to ask for things, “Please…Please don’t stop. Feels…feels perfect.”

Your heart soars at his praises, sinking him back into your mouth. The taste of his arousal coats your tongue as you take him deep into your throat. Tears spill from your eyes as you gag around his impossible thickness, but you feel nothing but motivated as Zayne whimpers above you. 

“I-I need –,” he moans, fingers gently gripping your scalp, grounding him to this moment, “I need you. I always need you.”

His words encourage you further, your bobs on his length increasing in speed and vigor. You intend to take full advantage of this moment, of seeing Zayne so utterly desperate for you. Unabashedly at your mercy.  

Not an inch of his manhood remains untouched as you use your hands in tandem with your mouth to render him into a groaning and panting mess. The sounds coming from the man you love make your thighs squirm, a familiar dampness forming in your panties. Your jaw aches at his girth, but you’re determined to keep going. 

“You’re perfect,” Zayne grunts, “So damn perfect.” You peer up at him through your teary eyelashes, enjoying the view of the rosy blush painted on his pale cheeks as his head laid thrown back in sheer pleasure. 

Zayne can’t seem to contain his rambles, fully succumbing to the bliss only you could provide him, “Don’t stop. Please don’t — hah — fucking stop.”

His eyes lock onto yours, and your gaze instantly catches on the corners of his eyes that glisten unusually under the dim lighting in the shelter. 

He’s crying.

You’re taken aback, instantly filled with worry, “Zayne? Are you okay? Should we — ”

Zayne’s response is instant, his head snapping up desperately searching for you, “No.” He clears his throat before continuing, gently cupping your chin in his fingers. He tries to subtly guide your lips back to his aching tip.

“Continue. Please.”

The longing  in his words is enough to make you envelope him back into your mouth, wanting nothing more than to please him, his pleasure fueling your own. The idea that you could make him feel an ecstasy that made literal tears pool in his eyes fueled your own excitement beyond belief. Your core ached with a week’s worth of need, need for the astonishingly handsome man falling apart at the tip of your tongue. 

“Anything for you, when you ask so sweetly,” you giggle. This time you take him directly into your throat, as deep as you can before your body starts to reject his unbelievable size. Your throat constricts deliciously around him, once again short circuiting his brain into a rambling mess.

“You don’t understand how difficult it was to leave…when you feel like this.” His words make you moan in satisfaction, the vibrations running along his pulsing veins, straight to his sensitive balls. 

“H-holy fuck,” Zayne pants, his hips bucking slightly into your mouth while your hands are occupied with stroking the length that couldn’t fit into your mouth, “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. About this.”

Wanting to see him come completely undone, you take his hefty balls into your palm, kneading just hard enough to have him writhing with need. The copious amounts of arousal that flood into your waiting mouth and the unrestrained twitching of his length signal to you that he’s close.

Zayne taps your cheek, signaling just that, “Love, I’m –” But you shut him up, your tongue running along his sensitive vein, cheeks hollowing, and fingers massaging. With a strangled cry, his hands gripping your hair roughly, Zayne releases himself into your mouth. It’s endless, too many nights worth of pent up need for you, and so warm against your tongue. 

Zayne’s whole body heaves, still recovering from the orgasm. Through the haze, Zayne stares at you lovingly, cupping your chin in his strong fingers.

“Spit it out,” he commands lowly, worried his questionable and limited arctic diet would negatively affect how he tasted. You shake your head vehemently, staring straight into his glassy green eyes, making a show of letting your throat bob with a slow gulp, relishing in the taste of him. Nothing would ever stop you from savoring what Zayne gave you.

Zayne swears, his voice edged and his eyes dangerously dark as he takes you in, “You’re trying to drive me fucking insane aren’t you?”

You bat your lashes at him innocently, “I would never do that.” Climbing into his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck and shimmy out of your thermal leggings. You’re left in your panties, translucent from the slick pooling in between your thighs, grinding against Zayne’s exposed length which still stands proudly against his abdomen, already ready for more. 

“Can I?” you ask, suddenly bashful. But Zayne doesn’t respond, eyes glued to your glistening covered cunt. His fingers nimbly slide against your folds, rubbing up and down, catching torturously on your clit. It’s almost like he can’t hear you, mesmerized by how aroused you’ve become from just sucking him off. 

You take that opportunity to take him by the base of his cock, moving your panties to the side and rubbing the engorged tip against your weeping slit, his arousal mixing with your own. The warmth of your waiting cunt snaps Zayne out of his gaze, his eyes darting to yours.

“Y/N…” he warns, voice low, dark, but desperate.

You pause, wanting to respect his boundaries, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

He swears under his breath, repeating his words from earlier, “You’re going to need to do it.” You nod excitedly, but he continues.

“Once we start, I won’t be stopping. Not until I see you come undone all over me,” he says, almost like a final warning. You press yourself deeper into his chest, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“Would never want to stop Zayne,” you purr, before sinking onto his waiting cock. You hiss at the stretch, body still unprepared for his girth. Zayne pants at the mere entrance of his tip inside your pussy, his throat bobbing as his head tosses back. His hands claw at the hospital bed sheets, seemingly not trusting himself to touch you in this state. You pause, trying to give yourself a second to adjust.

“Love…” he bites out, voice tinged with insurmountable emotions, “Please.”

Feeling mischievous, you prolong your pause longer than you’d originally intended, parroting words he’d demanded of you countless times, “Please what Zayne? You have to tell me what you want.”

Zayne appears unamused, his jaw ticking in frustration. His knuckles are white as he does his best to restrain himself against your teasing, eyes hooded and dangerously stormy. You know you’re definitely going to regret teasing Zayne later, but for now you decide to enjoy the power he’s letting you wield.

But you’re surprised by his next words, coming out heartbreakingly gentle, “Please Y/N. I…I need you.” The sincerity and vulnerability behind his words makes you shiver, your thighs moving instinctively to take his throbbing erection fully into your cunt. 

Your simultaneous moans mingle in the enclosed space, entwined with the slick sounds of your body melding with Zayne’s. The unbelievably lewd squelches of your body receiving him makes you bite your lip as you seat yourself fully on Zayne’s lap. 

This position always lets you take Zayne as deeply as humanly possible. It's almost painful how his cock presses into your deepest parts, the drag of his tip making you want to slump over and succumb to the blinding pleasure. 

“Ride me, love,“ Zayne begs. His large palms twitch with the need to grab you, fighting with the logical part of himself that knows he should keep his hands to himself. His pleas fuel you with confidence, your cunt leaking profusely at the delicious way his girth stretches you to your absolute limit.

Your thighs move on instinct, clasp tightly against his larger legs. Your breath comes out in hot puffs, torridly breathless as your body struggles to accommodate him. Your clit brushes against the rough fabric of Zayne’s undershirt at every bounce, your orgasm building quickly under the tension.

“Nngh, just like that,” Zayne moans, the sound of his pleasure so unbelievably erotic, “You’re so perfect.” His words go straight to your core, your pussy clenching as it takes him in repeatedly. Your breasts bounce vigorously under your thermal shirt in rhythm with your thighs bobbing up and down on Zayne’s lap.

The way your cunt clenches at every bounce has Zayne seeing stars, his thoughts turning to incoherent mush, “I want you. I need you. Need more of you…”

You whimper at his words, doing your best to maintain your composure and upperhand. But as his cock bruises against every possible sensitive inch of your pussy, you can feel yourself falling apart. Your nerves burned with unrelenting pleasure, fueled by the view of Zayne faring even worse underneath you.

Small beads of sweat slid down Zayne’s brow, almost crystalizing against his intensely frigid skin. His eyes were hazed over with a thick cloud of lust, lips bruised and shiny from your earlier kiss. His cheeks were beautifully dusted with a red blush as he watched you, the woman he loved and cherished more than life itself, fuck herself unabashedly onto his lap.

“Haah…it was absolute hell leaving you…” he grounds out between his moans.

Your attention perks up temporarily, your voice breathless and weak, “R-really?”

“Do you have any idea how warm and perfect you are here?” Zayne finally breaks his rule and touches you, his fingers reaching to brush torridly against your vibrating clit. You whimper, clenching uncontrollably around him, hips still bouncing rhythmically on top of him. Your actions make Zayne groan, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the whines from escaping. 

“How could I leave knowing you feel like this around me,” Zayne forces out, his thumb rubbing gently at your slippery clit, “Absolute hell.” 

You find yourself bouncing with more conviction at his confession, probably with more intensity than you’ve ever ridden him with. Your unabashed cries of pleasure mingle with your warm breath, right by Zayne’s red ear. 

The sound of your pleasure only serves to push Zayne further, “That’s it love, just like that. I’m all yours, ride me just like that.” 

With his fingers still toying at your clit, Zayne looks up at you so adoringly. His brows furrowed together as he took in the sight of you, his beautiful angel riding him like you absolutely owned him. Which you absolutely did. 

You can only whine at his words, all your energy and concentration funneled into pleasuring yourself, and him, atop his strong thighs. 

His puffy pink lips parted again, “You’re…fuuck, you’re so damn beautiful.” Your eyes squeeze shut at his praises, abdomen clenching in excitement. You itch for Zayne to touch you more, for his fingers to bruise your hips, his hands to leave angry handprints on your thighs. 

You grab his free arm, looping it around your waist to firmly hold against your lower back. Your shirt had ridden up from all the activity, so your skin was exposed for him. In doing so, you notice that the sharp icicles embedded into his delicate skin have completely melted away, but a beautiful path of snowflakes ebb from his fingertips up to his thick forearm, veins bulging deliciously. 

You hope he doesn’t notice as you quickly bring his palm to the small of your back, forcing the shiver back as his chilly skin meets yours. Zayne’s eyes are blown open in hesitation, and you can tell he’s fighting with the urge to yank his hand away. But before he can, you plead with him. 

“Please, touch me, Zayne.” He swears, unable to deny you when your eyes flutter at him dazedly, voice coming out in a sultry, desperate, rasp. 

“Anything for you,” he agrees, words unsure but voice deep and demanding. His fingers gently dig into your back, grounding himself to the immense pleasure of your walls unrelentlessly squeezing against him. His rough grip on your body has your vision sparking with pleasure.

“I-I’m not going to last much longer,” Zayne warns, his hand leaving your clit to grip against your back, drawing you in closer, harder. The blush on his cheeks intensifies as he comes closer to his release, his jaw edged so sharply it looks as if his frozen skin could cut. He buries his face into your chest, biting against the fabric of your thermal top.

Zayne swears, cursing the Gods for allowing him to leave you clothed as he yearned to suck at your skin, at your breasts, to ease some of the intensity that chokes at his throat. His grip on your back only intensifies as he gasps at your chest, inexplicably swearing as you ride him into oblivion. 

“Can I cum inside? Please,” his eyes dart to yours, desperate and pleading, like he’d absolutely combust if you denied him. You nod fervently, wanting nothing more than to feel his warmth inside you. 

Without a further warning, Zayne releases into you with a strangled grunt, almost as if he could not physically hold himself back for a second longer. Like he absolutely could not control the orgasm your body was inflicting on him.

His creamy seed spurts against your walls, the heat coating every possible ridge of your welcoming cunt, taking it all. It seems endless, your body shivering at every single pump of his finish, thighs still bobbing up and down, fucking Zayne through his orgasm. His cum coating your walls only serves to lubricate your quivering pussy more, exciting you and pushing you towards your own orgasm. You vaguely feel a cold sheen along the expanse of your lower back, likely a harmless layer of frost emanating from his hands still gripping you desperately as he continues to release into you. The thought leaves your mind as quickly as it comes, your focus shifting to his cock, still spurting inside of you. 

“That was so much,” you murmur in astonishment, counting nearly five pumps of his sticky seed, releasing into your aching womb, “My poor baby, you’ve been so pent up huh?” 

Zayne is unable to speak, his still hardened cock twitching inside you with overstimulation and excitement. His mind numbing orgasm seems to have broken down all remaining barriers, his needy and desperate moans sounding right in your ear as you continue to bounce on him, wanting to reach your own climax.

“I’ve been so fucking pent up without you, thinking about you, about this,” he groans, “W-wait — love. I just came, I don’t think I can — haah — come again.” 

“Pleeease, I know you can,” you beg, your bounces slowing but not stopping, instead slamming down more languidly,  passionately, “Just one more, for me please.”

A few more thrusts is enough to have his eyes rolling back, lips parted, breath so hot it creates a small puff of mist, “Please, jesus please.” His cock throbs inside you, ready and begging to release again. He swears repeatedly, watching as you try to suck the absolute life out of him. 

A few more clenches of your heavenly cunt is enough to fire him back up, his cock throbbing angrily, harder than ever.  “Keep going, don’t stop,” he pleads, his words and wavering tone a complete stranger to him, “I need you. I need you to see you cum undone for me sweetheart.” 

“M’so close Zayne,” you cry in response to his filthy words, thighs threatening to give out. 

“Thank you, thank you — fuck!” Zayne swears, teeth digging into the small exposed area of your neck, “Cum, cum for me, please. Need to feel you.” 

With his lips against your sensitive pulse point, you thrust once, twice, a third time, before crashing back down and headfirst into your climax. Zayne’s strong arms keep you steady as you squirt all over him and his expensive overcoat. His cock thrashes, releasing again, another stream of unbelievably endless seed straight into your quivering abdomen. 

“I love you. I love you so much,” Zayne groans into your ear before shifting and guiding your mouth to his. The kiss is a desperate clash of intensity, the two of you fighting to convey the magnitude of the emotions you felt for one another, and especially in the absence of each other. 

When he pulls away, he breathes in your scent like it’s the air he needs to breathe, the smell of your arousal and pheromones clouding what little judgment he has left. 

“I love you, Y/N,” Zayne gasps out one last time, as if those words are important as his last breath. His arms hold you tight against him, not wanting this moment to end. 

Your bodies heave in unison, Zayne ghosting featherlight kisses along the deep angry bruise on your neck, eliciting an uncontrollable shiver from you. It’s rare for Zayne to lose control and leave marks on your skin from your activities. The idea of the hickey forming on your neck leaves you deeply satisfied and your spent cunt quivers in response, squeezing even more of Zayne’s thick and hot seed into you. 

He swears, teeth grazing against the purpling bruise along your neck, “Please. Have mercy on me.” 

You giggle breathlessly, trying to ease the tension of your pussy against him, “M’sorry Zayne. Are you okay?” 

He chuckles, nuzzling against the crook of your neck and admiring the beautiful mark he’d left on you. He has a slight stubble that rubs soothingly against your quaking nerves, making you practically purr against him, “What if I said no? What would you do then?” 

“I guess I would just have to keep making you feel good, wouldn’t I?” you tease in faux innocence, though the meaning of your words are not lost on anyone.

You feel Zayne’s smile against your shoulder, “You’d better be careful what you say, sweetheart. You’re playing a very dangerous game.” 

You shiver at his words, briefly reminiscing on just how many times you’ve lost at this game. How many times Zayne had you begging for reprieve, pussy red and swollen from too many orgasms to count, body folded whichever way he wanted you. Not that you could or wanted to complain. 

But you’re feeling feisty, not knowing when to quit while you’re ahead, “Really? I quite like the game where you’re crying and begging me for more.” 

Whoops. 

Zayne’s smirk isn’t the slightest bit embarrassed, but rather amused. Mischievous. 

He doesn’t speak, instead he takes your face into his hands again. This time, the frost has completely thawed, leaving just his chilly soft skin against your own. He brings you in, deceptively gently and slowly, lips pressing against yours with so much respect, adoration, and thirst. 

His tongue strokes against yours with such passion and need that you’re struck absolutely dumb. Somewhere in the back of your head you can vaguely feel the instinct to pull away to breathe, but you can’t bring yourself to separate from Zayne’s torrid kiss. A week’s worth of agonizing yearning in one kiss.

It’s so distractingly perfect and mind numbing that you don’t even notice the way he stirs back to full mast inside of you, your aching walls clenching, half in protest and half in anticipation. 

Zayne is the one to finally pull away, saying nothing but staring at you intently with his darkened hazel green irises, a string of saliva connecting your parted panting lips. His fingers gently cup your jaw still, but his other hand reaches up to carefully thumb at the corners of your eyes. It’s then you feel a vague dampness against your skin.

At your startled and, no doubt, confused expression Zayne chuckles warmly, “I thought you liked this game?”

His words bring you to the realization that tears were in fact streaming down your cheeks. From a single kiss. At your adorably furrowed brows, embarrassed expression conveying no amusement whatsoever, Zayne’s smirk deepens.

“No? I guess I’ll need to have you begging for you to enjoy this game, huh?” as if to punctuate his point, he shifts beneath you, thrusting his once again hardened member further inside you. You yelp at the feeling, clutching his shoulders for dear life. 

“Only joking, my love,” Zayne chuckles, ghosting a kiss along your jaw as he holds you firmly against his body. You sigh in relief as the sincerity behind his teases, pressing a kiss to his cheek gratefully. Your fingers snake up into his tousled raven hair, rubbing slow circles into his scalp, to which he groans in satisfaction, laying his head against your chest. You rest your own head atop his head, smiling into his hair as he nuzzles into you like a baby.

You wince when you feel his fingers just barely ghost over the injury on your arm, where his ice arrow had accidentally struck you. You still, hoping he doesn’t notice your brief discomfort.

But of course he does, his voice choking with anguish, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Zayne! It’s really okay!” you reassure, desperately trying to get him to see that you’re perfectly alright, better than you’ve been in a week. “I’ve dealt with far worse.”

That was evidently not the right thing to say, as Zayne’s face visibly darkens, the scowl on his lips simultaneously endearing and terrifying. 

“We will discuss that more when I get you home,” Zayne grumbles, and despite his cloudy and stormy demeanor you cannot find him anything other than absolutely pouty and adorable. You knew without a doubt he’d be making you take all sorts of expensive medical tests after safely returning home. 

You think about how overbearing you know he will be after this, a smile playing on your lips at the thought of him fussing over you like a stoic mother hen. It would be annoying, but it was part of the reason you loved him so dearly.

“What are you laughing at?” Zayne questions, his eyebrows arched at your beautiful smile. 

“Nothing…I just missed you,” you mumble sheepishly, burying your face into the crook of his neck, resting against his solid body, his manhood still snugly nestled inside you. You could definitely get used to this.

He leans his head onto yours, lips brushing a kiss against your messy hair. His voice is muffled, vibrating against your scalp as he speaks, “I…”

His voice is thick with emotions, so you decide to wait silently for him to find the words, stroking his palm, encouraging him to take his time. 

“Thank you for coming.”

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