maryam111 - Tumblr blog

maryam111 · 2 years

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um not to be a whore but i'm thinking of infidelity with Jean ... him clearly feeling guilty but being unable to resist your beauty, cant stop thinking of your lips on his. thank you serena violette and rmbr to drink water!

drinkin' my water, and quenchin' your thirst <3

a faithful gamble

info: jean has always been faithful - but when it comes to you, his thoughts can't help but wander. { jean x reader ; drabble } cw: infidelity, dilf!jean / age-gap, rough sex, degradation, praise, provocative and cunning reader, daddy kink, cunnilingus (f. receiving), lowkey happily ever after, unedited an: here's a quick thirst/drabble bc i haven't had time to work on anything else. hope you all enjoy despite its shorter length and also its completely different style bc of the whole unedited drabble format :))

jean has always been faithful - but when it comes to you, his thoughts can't help but wander.

and oh, does he try to stop them! he tries so hard but the only thing that seems to be getting harder is his cock for you.

he blames his wife for hiring such a beautiful maid, he blames the universe for having the two of you meet at the wrong time, he blames everyone and everything and sometimes himself. but that latter blame is easy to forget when he thinks of you, looks at you.

you, with your soft and glossy lips, so perfect for his mouth to latch onto.

you, with your swaying hips trapped in perfect stocks and bouncing breasts, so perfect for his hands to grab onto.

you, with your tight little ass in that black skirt of yours, so perfect for him to pump his dick into.

and, sometimes when you're leaning to dust the tables, he can see the folds of your cunt through your clinging panties, and he has to hold himself back with a herculean hold.

you're perfect for him, and jean hates it. he claims to hate it, on account of the guilt growing in his stomach. it felt nauseating, like he was back in his college days having one too many shots of bacardi's bitterness. but, then again ... you are the sweetened mixer he'd often use, softening the bitterness with your presence, with your angelic smile and your wide eyes staring up at him as he looks down at you from his towering height. the guilt in his stomach transformed into lust, and it shot immediately lower to his groin.

and today is the worst kind of day of all - his wife wasn't home, the kids were at school. normally he would either be at work, or his wife and kids would be home when he was too, dampening his desires. there is nothing to stop him.

nothing, except you.

but all you do is encourage him. instead of dampening his desires, you add fuel to his flames.

you catch his eyes when you're leaning to dust the tables, a sharp glint in them that turns teasing as you lean lower and he has to physically restrain himself from leaping over and fucking you against the freshly dusted table, leaving sweaty fingerprints and cum stains that you would have to clean up.

and that tight little skirt of yours - ever since you caught him leering at you, your skirt has been going higher and higher, smaller and smaller so that he can see the outlines of your lacy underwear clinging to the globes of your ass.

your stockings, once seamless and perfect, now have miniscule rips on them, tasteful rips that look purposefully done to show a peek of skin. the plush flesh of your soft thighs looks soft enough to bite down onto - and oh, goodness, does jean want to take a bite into you. like tasting a ripe fruit, jean wants to taste the salt on your skin and feel your sweet scent under his nose, wants to trace the curve of your swaying hips with his tongue and capture the bounce of your breasts with his mouth.

the last straw of the day is your lips. plush and shiny, jean's attention is usually first and foremost drawn by them. and you seem to have recognized that.

he's been reading the same line of his newspaper for an eternity now, his eyes always running to land on your lips as you suck on them, bothering the plush lower lip between your teeth as you struggle to mend the curtains his youngest ripped the night before. and when you're not sucking on them, biting on them, you're licking them, letting a sheen of spit cover their surface area, the shine blinding and attracting jean's eyes at once.

he's done for when you stare into his hazel eyes and let your tongue dart out slowly, faux-trying to clean up the spit on your lips but instead getting more spit on them.

"oh, for fuck's sake," jean says, throwing his reading down with a crumpling of the newspaper. he uses his long legs to propel himself over to you, and before you can even smirk up at him, jean has captured your coquettish mouth in his. you drop whatever was in your hands to instead grab onto jean's long strands of sandy brown hair.

he kisses you deeply, hungrily. the fruit that is your mouth is softer and sweeter than any he has tasted before, and he can't get enough. breathing becomes a second priority when it comes to kissing you, and you reciprocate in full, pressing the older and taller man to your body.

the two of you part with a gasp, staring into each other's eyes with a realization that yes, the fantasy the both of you had worked up in separation is now coming together while bringing the two of you together in reality as well.

"mr. kirstein-" you begin to say when jean interrupts you.

"you can't exactly call me mr. kirstein when i'm deep in your cunt now, can you?" jean says, undoing his tie and the buttons of his shirt with such quick efficiency that the sheer action leaves you breathless.

jean pushes you down on the couch you had been sitting on across from him, pressing your face down to the leather fabric, making your ass stick up in the air. he rubs a hand over your ass, relishes in feeling the lace print with his hands and not just seeing with his eyes.

"please, jean," you say, punctuating your begging with his name. "just fuck me now."

"trust me, beautiful, i will." jean takes his time touching you, running his hands all over your body, taking immense pleasure in the softness of your skin, the plush feeling of your breasts and your hips and your thighs. you moan as he touches you all over, and the pretty sounds go straight to his dick, which is harder than ever before, which is quite a feat to accomplish given how much this man has wanted you despite how much he shouldn't.

and just as that edge of the forbidden claws at the barriers of his mind - he pushes it back. he doesn't need it, doesn't want it, not the way he needs and wants you. in a second, he pushes up your tight skirt with a force and burns the fabric against your skin. and then right after, he rips your stocks at the center hem right under your cunt, and so the burn of the fabric is quickly forgotten as the cool air kisses the warmth at your cunt. and just as quickly as the cool air had hit your cunt, jean's mouth has replaced it for a moment, the tip of his tongue sending shivers up your spine and it hasn't even reached your cli-

it has now. and you have never felt anything stronger than the feeling jean has created in you now, a feeling of lightning and sparks and everything good in the world. neither has jean while tasting you - if he thought your mouth was divine, he wasn't even sure what mortal word to place to your cunt. all he knew that while it wasn't in his plan to lap at your cunt, he had to at least for a moment, at least to spend time preparing you for him.

"jean!" you cry, feeling the n-th flick of his tongue on your clit and therefore everywhere else on your body. "please, i can't take it anymore."

"can't take my tongue, baby? how will you take my cock?"

you cry aloud his name again.

"as much as i love my name on your tongue, you gotta tell me more, pretty girl, c'mon. show me you're a good girl, ready for daddy's cock."

you gulp audibly, and jean briefly wonders if he's made you uncomfortable.

until you speak aloud again.

"please, daddy, i can't go without your cock inside me any longer," you say with the most innocent voice you can manage but the dirtiest look in your eyes as you look up at jean from your position on the couch.

it's with a growl that jean plunges his cock into you, bottoming out before he knows with because of the sheer amount of slick and spit from his mouth that's supporting his entrance.

"fuck," jean says, groaning and throwing his head back. his tie is loose and long on his body, and you can feel the silk edge of the fabric on your skin as jean moves and thrusts in and out of you. "you're so fucking tight! i knew you would be, but - fuck!"

"yes, please, harder!" you scream and moan and demand as jean gives you everything you are asking for. "fuck me like you never fuck your wife."

everything stills to a halt. and that is when jean can feel his morals completely escape him, can feel all the guilt fade away like ashes scattering in the wind.

he's fucking you right now. and he's going to for as long as he can, because he doesn't think he can go a day without you now. not now that he's tasted this forbidden fruit, not now that you've offered yourself up for the taking.

"mmhh, that's what you want, you dirty little slut? you want me to fuck you like i'd never fuck my wife?"

"yes!" you exclaim in between your moaning. "i can be your good girl just as much as i can be your bad girl."

"whatever you say," jean says, closing his eyes as he can feel his thoughts fading in the face of his coming orgasm. "would a good girl take my cum?"

"probably n-not," you admit, stuttering as you feel your own senses whittle down to just the sensations in your nether regions. "but i will, if you'll give it to me."

"maybe my children need some stepsiblings," jean says, grabbing onto your breasts and railing into you harder. "maybe you'll be the next mrs. kirstein."

"oh, jean," you say, closing your eyes in bliss. "jean!" you scream aloud as you fall apart under jean's touch, under his thrusts.

you continue muttering your name as you sway on the powerful waves of your orgasm as jean cums, too, and unleashes thick spurts of cum into your cunt. he doesn't pull out, either, just slumps down over your body, feeling your softness beneath his hard muscle.

you move underneath him, thinking that this is over, that the next time will come as unexpected as this time, until maybe one day the unexpected is simply the expected, you the mistress jean fucks on the side.

but the true unexpected event occurs next as jean begins talking.

"i have always been faithful," jean begins, stroking your hair under his large hands. "but when it comes to you-"

"i understand," you say, softly, thinking of your unhopeful position. "i-"

"no, you don't," jean says. "what you don't understand is how badly i want to be with you."

there is quiet for a moment. and then you adjust your position to face him, and so there is a rustling of fabric and a squelching coming from where you are joined.

"what does this mean?"

"i had always been faithful," jean repeats, making a decision. "and i was not in this moment. but to you, i can be. if you'll let me."

you smile despite being surprised at the rapidity of this moment. jean misses the sparkle in your eyes as you throw your arms around him.

"of course, jean. i'll let you," you say, breathing into the crook at his shoulder. "i'll let you be mine and only mine." as it should be, you think, breathing in his warm scent and feeling content at how things had ended up in the most unexpected of moments.

things moved fast from this point on. jean never found out how premeditated this event had been. in fact, he went around boasting of your innocence and gentleness being the reason why he had fallen out of love for his first wife and fallen in love with you, the newest mrs. kirstein. and you, forcing yourself to giggle and flush, would hold up a hand at your swollen belly and show off your blinding engagement ring and shining wedding band. the crowd would chuckle, comment on how beautiful the two of you together, and how beautiful your children would be.

and you, leaning your head onto jean, would just think to yourself: what a gamble you had taken, planning on slowly seducing the most powerful and most faithful man in the city.

but what a successful gamble it had become.

reblogs are appreciated. let me know what you liked and didn't like so i can be a better writer for you. toodles,

serena violette.

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maryam111 · 2 years

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songs they would serenade you with

[hajime iwaizumi, koshi sugawara, bokuto koutarou, shoyo hinata]:

love grows (where my rosemary goes) - edison lighthouse

[keiji akaashi, daichi sawamura, ushijima wakatoshi, rintarou suna, shinsuke kita, kiyoko shimizu, asahi azumane]:

yellow - coldplay

[tetsuro kuroo, atsumu miya, toru oikawa]:

sweater weather - the neighbourhood

[tadashi yamaguchi, kei tsukishima, sakusa kiyoomi, lev haiba]:

this side of paradise - coyote theory

[ryuunosuke tanaka, tobio kageyama, tendou satori, osamu miya, taketora yamamoto]:

dark red - steve lacy

[kanji koganegawa, chikara ennoshita, hitoka yachi]:

young and beautiful - lana del rey

[kenma kozume, hisashi kinoshita, kentaro kyotani, takanobu aone, yuu nishinoya]:

wanna be yours - arctic monkeys

let me know if i missed any of your favs <3

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maryam111 · 2 years

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𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 | (jean kirstein x reader) wc: 0.7k+

“calmly reassuring the other it’s okay when they drop a glass, gently checking their hands for any injury” from this list of prompts

“Fuck—”

Your voice echoes throughout the apartment, abrupt and alarmed. It makes Jean’s heart skip a beat before it’s immediately followed by the sound of glass shattering.

Trying not to panic and overreact while simultaneously listening intently for your next move, Jean warily calls out to you.

“You alright?” his voice slightly shakes as he awaits your response.

“Shit. Shitshitshit,” he hears you curse from the kitchen, your panicked tone indirectly answering his question.

He bolts out of bed in a hurry to locate your cursed sighs. When hearing your shaky exhales from the kitchen, he rushes to meet you where you stand by the sink, hands slightly shaking as they remain held outwards but unoccupied. Your palms are facing yourself as your eyes vividly scan the floor around you. Jean takes a quick glance at where you gawk—tiny little shards and scraps of broken glass littering the hardwood by your feet.

He’s quick but cautious as his sock-clad feet step around the mess and gently pull you away from the wreckage, “Hey, what happened?” His voice is soft and concerned, eyes rapidly searching your frame for any sign of injury or hurt.

With a tender hand to your jaw, a silent plea for you to look his way, Jean turns your head and tries to catch your eye. But your pupils continue to frantically shake and search everywhere but his own.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammer out, “It just slipped out of my hand and—I’m sorry, I don’t know how I did it,” you desperately try to explain the mess you’ve made. The jagged pieces of glass surrounding the two of you look a bit like glitter through your watery eyes and shaking head.

Though he’s unsure as to why you’re so frazzled, Jean’s confusion doesn’t prevent him from doing his best to calm your nerves.

“It’s fine,” he tenderly insists, trying to gently grip your shoulder and pull you into his embrace, “It’s just a glass.” A glass he could care less about, in fact. He’s far more concerned with your worried state, rather than some stupid kitchenware.

Unconvinced with his forgiving reaction, you find yourself breaking more than the glass wreckage across the floor.

“No, because now it’s all over the place,” you slightly snap, pulling yourself away from him as you avoid his gaze, hectically searching for something to collect the sharp fragments with. Apologizes continue to spill from your mouth like water rushing from an open dam.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’ll clean it, okay? I’m sorry, just gimme a second—”

“Baby, I don’t care about the glass,” Jean cuts you off with a stern sincerity.

A little taken back with his tone, you’re pulled from your worry-clouded mind with a newfound confusion. “What?” you quietly shrink in his hold.

Jean’s fingers brush the blades of your shoulders in a grounding manner as he presses, “I’m not worried about the glass,” he repeats, “I’m worried about you.”

It takes your brain a moment to read the situation, to catch up and register that he’s not mad at you. He’s not worried about the glass. His words echo in your brain like a scratched record on loop. He’s worried about you.

His cautious voice wavers as he pulls you from your thoughts, motioning to your trembling fingers. “Lemme see your hands,” he carefully pleads.

Without your eyes straying from his worried expression, you slowly reveal your palms to Jean. He holds them in his own, carefully and meticulously inspecting your skin for any cuts, grazes, or blood.

“It didn’t get you anywhere?” he confirms, more so clarifying for himself, as he turns your hands and does one final glance over them.

You shake your head.

“Okay, then that’s all I care about,” he promises you, placing a kiss to each of your tender knuckles.

Still a bit shaken up from the accident paired with Jean’s unexpected reaction, you stammer a bit as you try to grasp the situation’s turn.

“But I—” you stumble on your words, “I broke it,” you clarify, as if the remnants of glass scattered across your floor weren’t enough proof of your mistake.

Jean shrugs, a soft smile creeping on his face as he silently chuckles beneath his breath. “Yeah, but it’s not like you did it on purpose,” he reminds you.

You bite back your sarcastic reply of no shit when you see his grin, full of love and adoration, void of hostility or anger, all because you broke a simple glass.

“And it can be replaced,” he concludes with a kiss to your temple, “You can’t be, right?”

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maryam111 · 2 years

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╭ ❥ sugawara’s bday post + bonuses

ft post-time skip haikyuu men

synopsis — milf!reader, black coded, use of she/her pronouns.

cw — this post contains 18+ content. minors and ageless blogs do not interact or you will blocked. public sex. breeding. praise. bondage. oral (m. & f. receiving) cum eating (?) use of pet names.

includes — sugawara, sawamura, iwaizumi, and hinata

notes — birthday post for sugawara that got out of hand. it’s 11:35 so im still on time! not proofread (again its 11:35 and I want to sleep 🥹)

tags — @gabzlovesu @thathoneybee3 @dazaisfavgf

sugawara k. ♡

— your son’s kindhearted kindergarten teacher who offers you sweet smiles, casual small talk, and lingering stares that make your face heat up. you were content with your relationship with the handsome male.

— but he wasn’t.

— you were just so pretty. wearing those fluttery sundresses that made every movement that more noticeable, or the sophisticated sweater dresses and tights that made your thighs look oh so delectable.

— you had to know what you were doing to him. it was driving him crazy be he is a gentleman first and foremost. however, you continued to stretch his self control thinner and thinner with each encounter.

— and today, during the intermission of kindergarten graduation – it snapped.

“shh, sweetheart, you gotta keep quiet or everyone will hear how much of a slut you are for me.”

you couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this. the very-high chance of being caught, pressed against the tiled wall of the hallway where anyone could walk out and see your sons kindergarten teacher balls deep in you.

your legs felt like jelly and if it wasn’t for his hold on you, keeping you upright and legs locked around his waist, you’re sure you would’ve collapsed.

“you feel so good,” he praised, trailing kisses from the side of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin at your nape. “if you keep squeezing me like that I’ll make you a mommy again.”

“p-please —” you breathed out, your words soft and airy as you whined. “wanna feel it, koushi~”

sugawara chuckled, his hips stuttering for a moment as he rested his forehead on yours. “anything for you beautiful, now go on, I know you’re close.”

your lips sought out his to stifle the symphony of moans that fell from your lips. he indulged in you, of course, he couldn’t say no if he tried.

pulling away, he gauged your blissed expression as you came — brows knitted, eyes glassy, and lips glossy from his own. the straps of your pretty dress hung off your shoulder as your neck began to bruise a purplish red from his earlier assault.

it was beautiful enough to make him cum on the spot, groaning as he held you in place with the strength from his athletic years.

sugawara placed you on your feet, snapping your panties in place with his usual charming smile it made you wonder how the same man had you whimpering like a teenage girl a minute ago.

“I’ll see you after the ceremony sweetheart.”

sawamura d. ♡

— you and daichi were acquainted for lack of a better word. your son has a habit to be reckless and is dumb enough to get caught. this tends to happen when you’re out of town, leaving him with his father who can’t set him straight like you do.

— daichi is usually the officer on duty. these incidents happen in the early hours of the morning, on weekends – precisely his work hours.

— he knows your kid isn’t a bad kid, in fact, he reminds him of him when he was around that age.

— you sped over from the airport, picked him up and took him home and returned to fill out the paperwork.

— daichi could tell you were tired, frustrated, and overall stressed to the brim, but damn were you the finest woman he has ever laid eyes on.

— your hair was clipped back loosely, straightened strands framing your face as your eyes skimmed the familiar document. his gaze, as inappropriate as it may be, fell to the white button up shirt that did nothing but accentuate your cleavage, teasing the red bra you had underneath.

— one wrongfully right move and he’ll throw caution to the wind without a second thought.

“f-fuck just like that-” he rasped, staring down at where you were between his legs in the faculty break room. never has he been so thankful for his go-for-nothing coworkers that don’t bother showing up.

all he did was offer to release some stress with a massage. calloused hands working firmly to get rid of the knots in your back but you were moaning about how good it felt.

he couldn’t help the tent in his uniform but you offered to. ‘returning the favor’ you insisted, guiding him to the chair and shamelessly fell to your knees.

neatly manicured nails were wrapped around the base as the other popping the buttons of your blouse tantalizing slow. you put on the real show with your mouth: lips wrapping around his cock, your tongue dragging against the underside, hell even the hollowing of your cheeks made him weak.

“you’re a little vixen you know that?” he seethed, thighs flexing as you hummed against his length. his gaze dropped to your fully exposed chest still decorated with the lacy fabric. you looked like a dream but he prayed that this is his reality.

you removed your lips with an audible pop, pumping him vigorously and staring up at him with an innocence that’s mocking.

“want you to cum right here, okay?” you mused, dragging your finger across the valley of your breast. “i promise I’ll clean it up, won’t have to worry about a thing handsome.”

seriously, how was he supposed to hold out when you say things like that?

he came, hard, painting your chest right where you told him too in sticky ropes of white. his head was leaned back in ecstasy, dark strands sticking to the sweat slicked skin of his forehead.

semi-embarrassed, he covered his reddened face with his arm, catching his breath and refusing to look at you to prevent another erection.

against his better judgement he took a peek, and regretted it immediately as blood began rushing back to his cock.

there you were, gathering his cum with your fingers and sucking it off as if this was some shitty porno.

“keep it up and you’ll be going dumb on my cock by sunrise.”

iwaizumi h. ♡

— it’s been three years since you had your daughter and the baby weight is just as stubborn as the little girl!

— you had no idea where the start with a meal plan, gym equipment, it was a bit overwhelming and you decided to hire someone to help ease the stress even by a little.

— unfortunately in iwaizumi’s case, all you did was cause stress.

— not in a proper sense. you were nice, adored your kid, worked hard, and not that much older than him.

— that is the issue.

— you were perfect in every sense of the word. a little too perfect. he couldn’t help but think about putting you in more compromising positions and getting comfy when showing you the ropes to certain equipment.

— the last thing he would want to do is make you uncomfortable but if the situation calls for it maybe he can put it all on the line.

“you’re so fucking pretty I swear.” he grunts, his blunt honesty making your body heat up. you wanted so badly to cover your face, instinctively hide your body, but the elastic ropes around your wrist made that impossible.

his kisses were chaste, sweet, but made you shiver each time they came in contact with your soft skin.

“you’re t-teasing me,” he only chuckled at that, teasing your folds with his fingers before he slipped one in, making you jolt from the intrusion.

“trust me on this baby, I’m not teasing you. i mean it when I say you’re sexy as hell.” his gaze was fixated on you as he added a second finger, watching as your lips parted to allow a wanton moan to reach his ears.

he was taking the time to learn you body, what made your face twist and pleasure or caused you to be the most vocal, adjusting it to his leisure until his hand shined from your pools of arousal.

“gonna taste ya, and you’re going to keep these legs nice and spread for me alright? don’t make me tie ‘em down too.”

iwaizumi almost felt bad when he saw the tears leak from your eyes but, as he flattened his tongue against your clit, your eyes rolling back in the purest form of ecstasy, any and all second thoughts flew out the window as he began to devour you.

it was a struggle. resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs shut became your main focus. not the volume of your moans that passerby’s are sure to hear from the outside or the sheer desperation in your voice as you begged him to keep going.

your orgasm came in a flash, your legs convulsing as they closed around his head but he didn’t mind — not when you did so well for him.

when you body calmed down he untied your hands, sitting you up and pulling you flush against him on the bench.

“is it really a workout if only one of us is sweating?”

hinata s. ♡

— brazil has a lot to offer hinata. endless summer, an attractive tan, a reconciliation with an old rival turned friend, and you : a pretty exchange student studying abroad.

— he truly thinks the two of you are meant to be. what are the chances are being here, at the same time, in the same hotel, and crossing paths?

— hinata is absolutely smitten by you three months in of your friendship. you’re fun to be around, trying new things left and right, and when you speak portuguese?

— top him and top him now.

— the day he found out you had a daughter no older than four, showing him the various pictures of the two of you (and begrudgingly the details of her father when asked) he is seeing you in an entirely new light.

— you were stunning when you were pregnant, and your daughter is splitting image of you, but he can’t help but imagine you swollen with his kid.

— he wants it, he wants it bad.

“fucking hell princess, I can barely move.” he grunted, keeping his unruly pace as he bullied your cervix over and over again without trying.

hinata was delighted. you were taking him, stretching to accommodate his girth. if it wasn’t for your nails digging into the skin of his back he would think he was dreaming.

“‘s too much, g-gonna break me!” tears streamed down your cheeks as you hiccuped, moans sounding more and more like whimpers as he continued to fuck you stupid.

he only scoffed, gripping your wrist with one hand without messing up his rhythm. “can’t break the pussy that was made for me, can I?”

hinata was hyper aware to ever sound that accumulated between the two of you. the hotel bed creaking underneath you, every whine, whimper, hiccup, and moan that left your lips, the sound of his balls slapping your ass witch each thirst; he was hypnotized by sex with you.

the words you tried to say were jumbled, incoherent, and he cooed at the sight. “gonna cum baby? go on, say what I wanna hear and I’ll let you.”

you felt like you were sinking, deeper and deeper until the pleasure you felt felt became too much. the pressure in your abdomen felt odd, yet, you couldn’t release it. not when he was staring you down like that, daring you to cum without permission.

“p-please let me cum shoyo, I-I can’t hold it,” the desperation in your voice made him twitch inside you, the untamed lust and want causing his release to creep up on him quicker than usual.

“you better make a mess on it princess.”

i can explain … 🧍🏽‍♀️but I will not

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maryam111 · 2 years

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currently thinking about . . . HUSBAND! ISSEI <3 — MDNI.

CONTENT WARNINGS : oral (f). overstimulation. dry humping. breeding kink. creampie. lowkey possessive! issei lmao.

HUSBAND! ISSEI who, even after months of it officially happening, still can't believe he can finally call you his wife. he still loses his mind ever so slightly when someone refers to you with such title — or when he himself gets to use it — and if he is being completely honest, he is pretty sure he will never get over the addicting euphoria that the prospect of being with you forever brings him.

HUSBAND! ISSEI who is just way too caring for his own good. he worries too much, always putting your needs before his because he feels the need to make sure you are as happy with him as he is with you. he couldn't have gotten any more lucky, couldn't have married anyone better than you, and he wants to make sure you know that.

HUSBAND! ISSEI who is always gentle and attentive. he knows you can sometimes get a bit clumsier than usual when you are focused on something else, so he likes to take little precautions to prevent an injury from happening. it can range from mundane things like placing a hand on your hip so you don't bump into a massive stack of cans in the grocery store while you're too entranced on crossing things off your shopping list to even notice they are there, to more radical cases that he, quite frankly, doesn't even like to think about — the point of it all being that as long as you are with him, issei hopes you know that he will always look out for you.

HUSBAND! ISSEI who melts whenever you call him your angel. his heartbeat speeds up and he swears his palms get sweaty whenever you profess the sweet nickname, a giddy smile he can't help but want to hold back crossing his features as he tells you that you are his angel, the he is the blessed one for getting to spend eternity with you.

HUSBAND! ISSEI who swears he will never get over the amazing feeling of your naked skin under his fingertips. it's truly addicting, the view of goosebumps spreading where the pads of his fingers have just pressed endearing to him, in a way. he loves seeing how responsive you are to him — loves that you get as gleeful over his touch as he gets over yours, a big smile always curling his lips as butterflies fill his stomach whenever you are the one to reach out to him first, leaving lingering strokes up his body, your intentions teasing, and yet, sweet.

HUSBAND! ISSEI who always feels his breath be knocked out of his lungs whenever he pushes his thick shaft into you for the first time in the night. it looks so pretty, the way your cute pussy swallows him so well, the stretch he gives you mixed with how full he always makes you feel making you all but mewl incoherent rambles to him — words slurred as you tell him how good he makes you feel while his hips start to snap against yours, moans growing high-pitched whenever you call for his name, the way the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every precise thrust making you see stars, the pleasure eventually becoming too overwhelming for either of you to even be able to form proper sentences, resuming to only whining for each other, getting lost in your lustful hazes, minds filled with the other's presence only.

HUSBAND! ISSEI who, if asked, could spend hours between your legs, face stuffed against your cunt as he drinks up all your arousal, lapping up all that you give him without hesitation. he loves your taste, your scent — your everything, simply obsessed with you. he wraps his muscled arms around your thighs and pushes you as close to him as he can, nose bumping against your clit while he forces his tongue into your fluttering hole, groaning against you, silently begging that you give him more. your moans are like music to his ears, your cries that it is too much losing it's meaning somewhere along the way as he keeps on pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you, mind too drunk on you to even notice the way he starts humping his hips against the mattress under him, leaking tip flushed an angry red as he nears his high without even fully realizing it, ending up accidently not only overstimulating you but also himself as he keeps on rocking against the bed even after his cum has spilled all over it, only being brought to reality all too late when he feels the jaded pain surface, pulling back and looking down on the mess he made almost in an embarrassed manner.

HUSBAND! ISSEI who kisses every inch of your face while fucking you, mind foggy as he feels his orgasm building up. his thumb circles your clit, his other hand cupping your cheek when he goes to rest his forehead against yours, both your breaths bated as you find yourselves in the same state, too lost on your shared pleasure to fully notice anything else. you feel so good around him, velvety walls so tight around his girth he almost can't handle it — the need to make you his right there and then taking over before he even notices what he is doing, or better yet, saying.

"'m gonna fill you up so good, angel. so, so good..." issei mumbles, eyes closed and brows knotted as he takes a moment to breath, then continuing with his rambling. "you're gonna look so pretty when i fuck a baby into you, and then everyone is gonna know you're only mine"

you don't know what about it makes either of you go so crazy, but the fact that issei's words always drive you both closer to the edge is undeniable, a few sloppy thrust more than enough to make you both cum right there and then seconds later, screaming each other's name as you feel your climaxes wash over you.

QRTMIN 2022 ๑ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !

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maryam111 · 2 years

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thinking about how atsumu would be the biggest manchild in the streets but a manwhore in the sheets

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maryam111 · 2 years

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i miss you.

CW: fem! reader, rin being jealous of ur new bf lol, cheating (cheating on ur new bf w rin), rin calls himself daddy lol, nipple play, fingering, making out, bathroom sex, ummm that’s it !!

WC: 400k?

ABOUT: rin would admit, he wasn’t the best boyfriend, but seeing someone treat you better than he ever could, had him riled up.

Rin would admit, he wasn’t the best boyfriend, but seeing someone treat you better than he ever could, had him riled up.

You see, you and rin had broke up 3 weeks ago. You had told him that you were tired of him and how he treated you.

Letting girls flirt with him, putting his arm around their neck, whispering god knows what in their ear and watching them giggle, letting half naked girls SIT on his lap — you were tired. You broke it off with him with a note and all your stuff gone.

Eventually you had met this sweet guy — kita. Always complementing you, saying how pretty you were, taking you out to fancy dinners.

All the things rin didn’t do.

Yet there is this part of you that still yarned for him. No matter how shitty rin treated you, a part of you still loved him.

You and kita went to this party that his friends were throwing. You were having a good time dancing to the music with your wonderful boyfriend.

“Hey babe, do you mind if i go talk to some of my friends real quick? i’ll be back.” Kita said, moving close to you so you can hear him.

You nodded and gave him a kiss on his cheek. You went to go sit down on the couch, and talk with some people in the mean time, until kita comes back.

As your chatting with one of your friends, you feel eyes in the back of your head. You slightly turn around and glimpse at the messy haired boy that you hoped to never see again.

You locked eyes with rin and he’s suddenly getting up walking over to where your sitting.

oh no.

Suddenly you stand up and rush your way to find a room of some sort. You walk around the halls and you see an empty bathroom.

You back up and watch him lock the door.

“You missed me?” he said with a grin settling on his stupidly beautiful lips.

“what do you want suna.“ you asked, adverting your gaze from his eyes.

He snickered, “Suna really? what happened to rin or rinnie.”

You rolled your eyes, “We aren’t dating anymore suna. why would i call you that. Actually, i have a wonderful boyfriend who treats me right out there. So excuse me while i go find him.”

As you make your way to the door rin stops you and backs you up into the sink.

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

“He doesn’t deserve me? god suna do you hear yourself??”

He lets out sigh. “y/n.. I’m sorry alright? i know sorry doesn’t excuse all the shitty things i’ve said and done to you, but i really mean it. i miss you so goddamn much. And seeing you with him… seeing you with someone else but me makes me so pissed. Give me one more chance. i promise you it will never happen again. i’ll be better.”

You start to tear up, rin notices and strokes your cheek and wipes the tears away with his thump.

“Y/n… i still love you and i always will.”

You pull rin into a kiss, running your finger nails in his messy hair that you oh so missed.

Rin grabbed the back of your thighs and sat you on the sink. He pulls away and starts trailing hot kisses down your neck.

“R-rin.. fuck!” you moan, wanting more.

He puts his hand near your thigh opening it, and trails his hand near your clothed pussy. You whine as he starts playing with your clit and rubbing circles on it.

“Please rin…” You whimper, wanting him to stop teasing you and just fuck you.

He grins, ”What baby? tell daddy what you want.”

He pulls your panties aside and starts playing with your puffy folds.

“fuck rin, just need your fingers please…”

“since my pretty little slut begged so nicely for me, i’ll give her what she wants.”

Rin slipped his fingers into your soaking cunt and you arch into him as he slips his fingers in and out at a perfect pace.

You moan and grip onto his back, “Feels good? am i making my pretty little slut feel good?”

You nod your head and let out a whine and he starts rubbing your clit as his fingers still go in and out of your pussy.

“R-rin! i’m gonna come!” You moan, suddenly as your about to come on rin’s fingers, he pulls out and licks his fingers filled with your cum.

“uh uh not yet baby. Want you to cum on my cock.”

He starts unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans off. You watch as he takes his underwear off and pulls his cock out.

He walks closer to you and starts to align his dick with your cunt.

“You ready baby?”

You nod your head and grip onto his arm as his cock slides into your hot gummy walls.

“fuck..” Rin groans, feeling your tight walls around his dick, feels like heaven he thinks.

As he bottoms out, he pulls out and slams into your pussy and starts moving in and out of your gushing cunt.

You moan and throw your head back and start to wrap your legs around his waist making his cock hit deeper.

Rin grabs your throat, “You little slut. getting fuck in a bathroom while your little boyfriend is out there probably looking for you. you like that don’t you?”

Rins cock pulses as you start to squeeze your soft warm walls around him.

“R-rin please! i’m gonna cum!” You moan as your finger nails puncture into his shoulder blades.

Rin speeds up his pace, “then cum pretty baby. let it all go.”

At his words, your pussy squeezes his cock and you come. Rin groans and he comes not too long after you.

#haikyuu smut #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna smut #rin smut #rin x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu rintaro suna #haikyuu x f!reader #suna rinataro x reader #suna rinataro smut

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maryam111 · 2 years

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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐗;

➵ 18+ only, minors dni ➵ haikyuu/bnha/jjk x f!reader ➵ contents: rough sex, creampie, i am but a whore

holds your legs open when he’s fucking you, his hands gripping your ankles to keep them spread wide for him and to keep your body from sliding too far up the bed each time he slams his hips into yours. this offers him a perfect view of the obscenely erotic expression on your face, your tits bouncing violently with each thrust, his cock nestled so snugly in your cunt. he likes to see how wet you are for him, the sheen of your slick glistening on his cock every time he withdraws. when he’s had his fill of the view, he lets your legs hook over his shoulders, plants his hands on either side of you, and hunches over you, bending you in half and using this new position as leverage to slam into you. your insides wrap around him greedily, even though his cock enters you even deeper like this and you feel like you’ll break, that you just can’t take more of him anymore. you can, he says with a smirk against your lips, heavy balls slapping against your ass with loud, wet, lewd sounds. and so you do, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be able to walk the next day.

⤿ oikawa, meian, daichi, matsukawa, sakusa ⤿ bakugou, dabi, shindou, shigaraki ⤿ sukuna, gojou, naoya, toji

grips the tops of your thighs when you’re riding him, fingers digging into your skin hard enough that you swear you’ll be able to feel them there long after he’s through with you. he likes to touch you, likes how soft your skin is as he slides his palms from your knees up your thighs, around your waist to squeeze your ass as you bounce on his lap. the sight of you sliding up and down his dick is enough to drive him insane and he can’t help but sit up, burying his hand in your hair and yanking your head back, exposing the delicate line of your throat for him to latch his lips onto. your back arches like this, tits pressing against his hard chest, hips still rolling against his. your hands find their way to his knees, pressing down for stability. you’ll need it. because when he moves his mouth down to your tits and catches a nipple between his teeth and tugs on it, your entire body goes weak. you don’t stop though- you can’t, not when he’s gripping the backs of your knees and looking up at you with dark eyes. not when he presses his lips to the area right above your heart and murmurs that’s my girl.

⤿ iwaizumi, ushijima, osamu, suna, kuroo, kita ⤿ shouto, shinsou, hawks, kirishima, tensei ⤿ megumi, yuuta, getou

wants your legs wrapped around his waist at all times no matter where he’s fucking you- on a bed, against a wall, or on a table. he loves the way this makes you cling to him and keep him so close, your body curving against his so perfectly. he bucks his hips harder when he feels your thighs quiver and tense against his sides and your cunt spasm around his cock. his body burns with pleasure when he’s between your legs like this- you can tell from the heavy pants and grunts that he lets out as he pounds into you. he won’t let you rest, not even when you’re muffling a scream into his shoulder and your nails are clawing streaks of red down his back. if your legs go limp, he’ll simply reach down, pull them back up again, and hold them there. he makes your pussy his, thrusting hard and deep into you. the room echos with every slap of his hips against your hips and the air reeks of sex and sweat as he keeps going until he’s emptied himself inside your body with a broken groan. and only then will he let your legs drop, the intensity of his climax sapping him of any energy he had left.

⤿ bokuto, hinata, hanamaki, atsumu, aone ⤿ natsuo, midoriya, kaminari, mirio ⤿ yuuji, inumaki, nanami

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maryam111 · 2 years

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high enough | haitani r.

haitani ran x fem!reader

summary: ran didn't know why he kept coming back to you when he knew the risks involved--or he supposed he did, he just wasn't willing to confront it yet.

warnings: sub!reader, dom!ran, bonten timeline, unprotected sex, a bit of gentle manhandling, mentions of gang violence and wealth disparities, angst + hurt/comfort undertones (? kind of i guess)

notes: ty teepot n eris n (eventually) kat for betaing sobs @sakusins @kxeyas @sano-obsessed

y'all this piece might be the one im most proud of i s2g i actually love how it turned out

He didn’t know why he was here. The air was cold against his skin, bitter on his tongue and the sky was dark, the only thing illuminating the street around him was the distant, flickering street lamps. Sirens and gunshots resounded through the air--a few streets away, he pinpointed, too close to you.

He should move you out of this area, but as soon as the thought raced through his head, he felt distinctly uncomfortable. He shouldn’t care this much. He shouldn’t care at all, really. You were a nobody--a random girl he had met at a bar a few months back that he used to relieve the stress that being a Bonten executive weighed on him.

But if you were a nobody, then why did he keep coming back?

It was easy for him to rationalize if he ignored a few important points. Sleeping around put him more at risk in regards to dangerous situations--fuck around with the wrong person and he might just be ending the night with a bullet lodged in his skull or a knife cutting open his neck. Sticking to one person, at the very least, lowered those chances.

But even as the thoughts ran through his head, he knew that it wasn’t so simple. Sticking with one person brought other risks--risks of leaking sensitive information, risks of enemies pinpointing a possible weakness. It brought vulnerabilities that he just wasn’t quite able to accept because it would ruin any possible rationalization he might have to come back to you so often.

A particularly loud gunshot caught his attention, narrowed eyes shifting down the street toward where it came from, fingers drifting to curl around the loaded gun holstered at his waist. You lived in one of the shittier parts of the city--an area caught in the crossfires of the brutal, ongoing gang war between Bonten and its rivals.

It was dangerous for him to be here, the logical part of his brain reminded himself. There were hits on his head with bounties that would put oligarchs to shame, coming to this part of town with no back up, no one knowing where he was, no plan in case things went wrong, it was as good as a death wish and yet he found himself at your doorstep every other night.

He was playing a dangerous game, a game of Russian roulette that he knew would end with him losing but he couldn’t bring himself to stop pulling the trigger.

Go back to the apartment, he told himself but even as the thought raced through him he was pulling the trigger yet again--fist rising to knock heavily on your door.

It was late--well past two in the morning but you were a night owl, you were usually up til the sun rose and slept well into the afternoon. And a part of him wondered if he had any hand in your odd sleeping schedule, he was sure that it hadn’t been this fucked before the two of you met but the thought conjured a warm feeling in his chest that he wasn’t willing to try to decipher.

He waited a few moments before his chest began to curl anxiously.

Why weren’t you answering?

His nails dug into his palm as he considered what to do--knock again? leave?

He brought his fist back up against the door, knuckles rapping hard and rapidly against the wood. A series of worst case scenarios began to flood his mind--what if they realized what you were to him?

You weren’t anything to him, he tried to argue back immediately but the sinking feeling in his chest was proof enough that you did mean something to him.

His throat felt like it was closing up, the air around him becoming heavy, suffocating, he couldn’t breathe--images of you limp and bloody on the other side of the door flashing through his head, tied up and scared, wounded and unable to move, dead. He ignored the way his hands shook as he took a step back, preparing to kick in the door himself just so he could make sure you were alright.

But he didn’t have to. Just as he was about to drive his foot into the door, it unlocked from the other side and a numbing sense of relief swept through him as his eyes fell upon you standing in the doorframe, eyes sleepy and confused and trained on him.

He could breathe again.

Another blank.

Your nightgown hung off your shoulders as you brought a hand up to rub at your left eye, a yawn slipping past your lips, “Ran,” you murmured, “I didn’t think you were coming tonight, I would’ve stayed up. ‘m sorry. How long were you waiting?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” his voice was colder than he intended for it to be and he hated the way your lips tugged down, and he hated himself for being this way, “I can go.”

“No,” you reached out, your smaller hand grabbing his and he stiffened instantly. Your hand dropped back to your side when you noticed his reaction, “Come in, it’s late, you looked exhausted.”

Ran opened his mouth to protest but didn’t get the chance, “Please,” you said quietly and Ran faltered, eyes unable to meet yours.

It’s late, whatever is going on down the street is getting closer--it isn’t smart for him to be wandering around in this area with the Bonten tattoo branding his throat, he rationalized as he stepped into your home.

“You need to be more careful,” Ran said as you shut the door behind him, relocking the door with a flimsy chain that even Kokonoi Hajime would be able to kick down if he wanted to. He would have to get it replaced with a stronger one. “What if it wasn’t me behind that door?”

Your lips pulled up into a soft smile that did something to his heart that he did not like. You looked back at him from over your shoulder, “I’m not one to linger on ‘what ifs’,” you told him. Ran looked down at the floor, unsure of how you could live so carefree in such a dangerous area. “You should go change out of that, I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

You didn’t wait for a response, walking in the opposite direction. He only stared after you for a moment, lips turned down, eyes heavy as you disappeared from sight. And Ran tried to pretend that he didn’t know the way through your home like the back of his hand, despite the confusing twists and turns of your hallways, ones that most people would end up getting lost in. He tried to pretend he didn’t recognize every little ding in the wall, every little stain in the wallpaper; he tried to pretend that he didn’t know which floorboards to step over, the ones that were worn out due to storms and the passage of time that you couldn’t quite afford to get redone.

His shoulders were tense and stiff as he pushed open the door to your bedroom and he still continued to pretend--he pretended that the clothes tucked away in one of your drawers weren’t ones that he had ended up leaving during one of his nights staying over, ones you washed and cleaned despite the fact that you could barely afford detergent and your washing machine was on its last legs, even if it meant taking out some of your own clothes to tuck his away safely in your dresser.

He ran his fingers through his hair, purple and black strands falling loose around his face. He let out a heavy breath, chest tight as he unbuttoned the red-stained shirt and tossed into the bin next to your dresser--casually, too casually, like he would in his own apartment.

He felt ill.

His eyes caught the cracked mirror resting against the wall by your dresser and his lips twisted even further down when he noticed the bruises lining the left side of his body—almost hidden, but not quite, by the dark tattoos decorating his skin.

You would notice, you always did.

He hesitated as he reached for one of the cloth undershirts of his that you had stored in your dresser, an uncomfortable feeling stirring in his chest. What was he doing? He shouldn’t be doing this.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

But it was addicting, you were addicting, you brought him a type of high that no amount of drugs or alcohol could hope to give him and he couldn’t bring himself to give it up, give you up. Even if he did know deep down it would be for the best; even if he knew it could get him killed, get you killed.

A shattering of glass, a shriek, the trigger was pulled again, this time by his invisible opponent.

Ran was moving in an instant, tearing out of your room without a second to waste. His shoes slammed against the floorboards, his lungs burned, his eyes were wide and he felt the world collapsing around him. Ran was fast, he knew that, he’d always been the fastest in whatever gang he was in--Tenjiku, Rokuhara Tandai, Kanto Manji, Bonten, no one could ever keep up with him--but in that moment he swore that time must have been against him, his feet felt like they were dragging against the floor, sinking in quicksand, it was like he was trying to run through waist-deep water and the tide kept pulling him back, preventing him from getting to you.

His heart was in his throat as he turned the corner into the kitchen, gun in hand--he hadn’t even noticed he had pulled it from where it had been strapped to his waist.

His heart was beating in his chest so loud that he was sure you could hear it, his eyes were wild as his gaze darted around, trying to figure out what had happened until his gaze fell upon you on the floor, eyes wide and trained on the gun in his hands.

You were on your hands and knees, glass shattered beneath you that you were trying to pick up with your bare hands, water pooling below you. His heart rate slowly calmed down once he realized what had happened--you dropped the glass. The raised gun fell to his side, his shoulders relaxed.

He could breathe again.

Another blank.

You gave him a small, apologetic smile, “‘m sorry,” you said again, and he hated when you apologized--especially to him, “the glass slipped.”

You were unbothered by the gun in his hand, relaxed even, and Ran wondered if that had to do with the fact that you were used to guns and violence considering the part of the city you lived in. Or was it that you just trusted him that much? The latter thought made that warm feeling in his chest return. He pushed it away.

He couldn’t move as he watched you clean up the glass, his feet were glued to the floor, holding him in place even as his mind told him to move forward and help you so you don’t end up cutting your hands.

He didn’t understand you. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. He didn’t know why you kept willingly letting him into your home. You knew who he was, what he did--you had to, even if he had never explicitly told you. Everybody knew what the tattoo branding his throat meant, and the area you lived in leaned heavily toward Bonten’s enemies and they had received plenty of intel that their rivals were using civilians as their eyes and ears to keep an eye on Bonten’s movements without risking their own men.

You knew who he was, what he did, you knew the risks that came with associating with him and yet every night he found himself at your doorstep, you opened your home, your arms, your bed for him. You took him, you gave him something to look forward to after long grueling days of blood and pain instead of drowning himself in drugs and alcohol trying and failing to forget old memories and what he had turned into, what he had dragged Rindou into.

It had never been enough, no matter what he took, no matter how much he drank, the memories haunted him, fear consumed him--fear of what could happen to him, to his few remaining friends, to Rindou.

It had never been enough--not until he met you at least, and all thoughts of trying to deny how much you meant to him disappeared as he watched you chat easily about your day at work. Your words went in one ear and out the other as his mind raced. You had become important to him quickly, too important, too quick. You had become the light to his darkness, your home a sort of sanctuary that he had never had experienced until he met you.

You were good to him--too good. Sometimes he wondered if he was ruining you, a poison that was slowly eating away at your health, an acid corroding your happiness, your stability, your future; and sometimes he wondered if this was just a cruel, elaborate ploy from his enemies, showing him what love was like and then ripping it away.

His world stilled, his vision tunneled onto you.

Showing him what?

Anxiety began to twist in his stomach, curl through his limbs, ice cold fear began to spread through his body and that familiar fight or flight feeling took hold as his breath quickened. Every instinct told him to run, protect himself--weakness, vulnerabilities, they weren’t allowed in his line of work. Every weakness brought disaster, every vulnerability brought death. He had seen it time and time again with friends and enemies alike.

You’ll get yourself killed, you’ll get her killed, and he was about to turn on his heel--flee your home in an effort to protect himself and the one thing that might bring him genuine happiness--but then you looked at him as you stood from the floor, tossing the shattered glass into the garbage can, and you smiled, and Ran was selfish. God, he was so fucking selfish because instead of turning on his heel and leaving--making the choice that ensure you weren’t targetted by his enemies in attempts to get to him--he moved forward.

You let out a soft hum of surprise as Ran brought his hands to your face, large palms cupping your cheeks, fingers tracing your skin, toying with your hair and you inhaled sharply when he pressed his lips to yours, gently at first, his lips moving slow in time with yours, a special dance that only the two of you knew.

He knew that it was wrong, that he was risking your safety for his own selfish desires, but Ran couldn’t stop himself. He tilted your head up, one hand sliding behind your head, fingers entangled with your hair to hold you impossibly closer, and he could feel your fingers trembling from where they were wrapped around his forearms, he could feel the way your eyes fluttered shut as you relaxed into his touch.

And Ran thought it was sickening how you could be so at ease with someone like him, so willing to give into him, so happy to give into him. He didn’t deserve it, he didn’t deserve you, he was selfish and inherently cruel and he was undeserving of your love when there were so many better men out there that could treat you better than he could, give you the stability and safety that you deserved.

But unfortunately for them, and unfortunately for you, Haitani Ran was not a good man--a good man would have let you go so that you could make the best of your life, would have given you the means to get out of this shitty area so you could live a life free of crime and danger. But Ran was not a good man, and instead of pushing you away like he should, his grip tightened.

His hands slid down your body, wrapping around your thighs to lift you and you gasped into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist and arms circling his shoulders. You pulled back slightly, lips parting to speak but Ran didn’t give you the chance, leaning in again to capture your lips with his, tongue tracing the inside of your bottom lip.

He knew you were probably confused, he could practically predict the question on your tongue--Ran had never been one to display affection like this, the most he kissed you was when he was half-drunk on your pussy and not thinking straight, and he didn’t want to answer the question you were bound to ask. He wasn’t ready to verbally admit the conclusion he had come to--verbally admitting it made it real, and Ran wasn’t ready to face the consequences of it being real.

And it was unfair to you, he knew it was. He kept you in limbo, wondering each night if he would show up, wondering what you really meant to him, and you deserved better than that, better than him.

His grip tightened on your thighs and you let out a soft moan into his mouth, your arms fell from around his shoulders, delicate hands coming up to his cheeks instead. Ran’s eyes slid shut as your fingers traced his cheekbones, nails drawing gentle patterns on his skin. And you always did this and he was quite sure he would never be used to it. His breath shuddered against your lips and he tried to hide it by kissing you deeper, his tongue running against yours, tasting the mint on your breath. You had always touched him softly, from the first night up until now, and it was another thing he would never understand because Ran was rarely ever gentle with you--he tried, he swore he tried but soft touches to your skin would always turn into bruising, borderline painful grips as he desperately tried to fuck away the pain and fear and stress that laid so heavy on his shoulders.

But it didn’t matter how many unintentional bruises he left on your hips and thighs, ones that caused his chest to swell up with guilt when he woke up before you the next morning to slip out before you could try to convince him to stay, you would always cup his face gently the next time you saw him, tracing your fingers over his scars and tattoos, showing him a type of tenderness that he had never experienced in his entire life before you.

His throat felt tight as the slow kiss began to shift into a far more needy one, his teeth nearly clashing with yours as he leaned in closer, stepping from around the kitchen counter to lead you down the narrow halls toward your room. And yeah, he had to admit that it was harder to pretend that he didn’t know all of the little nooks and crannies of your home when he kept his lips pressed to yours, not even bothering to look where he was walking as he brought you back to your room.

“Ran,” you gasped against his lips, “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Ran pressed his lips to the underside of your jaw, trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck, making your words melt into soft moans next to his ear as his teeth grazed your skin and his lips massaged bruises on your neck. Ran let out a groan into your skin as one of your hands slid behind his head, intertwining with his hair, nails scratching his scalp as he laid you back on your bed.

And it was crazy, really--your bed creaked underneath the two of you, the mattress dipped, and he knew his bed back at his own apartment was objectively exponentially more comfortable than yours but he had never felt more at home, never slept better than when he was laid up with you in yours.

He dragged his lips back up your skin to your lips, arms braced on either side of your head, body heavy on top of yours. Your legs tightened around his waist and Ran bit back another groan as he rolled his hips against yours, feeling you whimper against his lips.

He carried his weight on one arm as he brought his other down between your bodies, and then between your thighs to slide your panties off. He smiled against your lips when he wasn’t met with the pretty silk panties he was used to.

“Thought you weren’t expecting me to show up?” he murmured against your lips and you giggled, eyes bright as you looked at him and the warm feeling in his chest grew and he couldn't even bring himself to push it away this time.

“I was still hopin’ you would,” you said, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips that had him dizzy and reeling. His throat was tight as your lips left his, head falling back against the pillow and he couldn’t stop himself from chasing your lips, pressing them hard against yours with a type of desperation that he didn’t know he had in him.

As if you could sense the turmoil within him, which you probably could if he were being honest, you matched his intensity. Lips slipping against his messily, hands sliding across his shoulders, smoothing out over his skin, tracing his tattoos and making his body shudder, and Ran fumbled to undo his button and unzip his slacks, brows furrowing in frustration.

A curse slipped from his lips as he failed to undo the button again, but he paused as he felt your hands cup his cheeks, lifting his face to force him to look at you.

“Relax,” you said quietly, voice smooth and gentle and at once, all of his frustrations seemed to fade away, “There’s no rush, we’ve got all the time in the world, Ran.”

Ran’s breath was shaky as your hands drifted down his body, undoing the buttons with ease and he let out a moan as your fingers slid up and down his cock, hips bucking into your hand as you freed him from his pants.

There were a million words on his lips—telling you that you didn’t have all the time in the world, that there were so many risks, so many dangers, that he was sorry for dragging you into this life and that he was sorry for not being a good enough man to let you go.

But nothing left his lips—he did not voice his fears, he did not apologize, instead he kissed you more intensely, holding the side of your face hard, hoping to convey all that he couldn't speak aloud through his actions.

Your fingers wrapped around his cock gently, languid strokes that had him gasping against your lips, eyes fluttering shut.

He bit down on your bottom lip, tugging it, and his eyes slid back open, meeting yours, questioning.

You gave him a small smile, and it was all of the answer he needed. He reached down with one hand, a large hand wrapping around your thigh and lifting it, pressing it up against your chest and hooking your leg around his shoulder and then repeating the process with your other leg.

His jaw clenched as the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, slipping against the slick and sliding between your folds. He bit back a low groan as you gasped but couldn’t hold back the moan that fell from his lips as he began to push his cock into you at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your legs were trembling on either side of his head, chest heaving and your nails were digging into his bicep as you tried to control yourself but the fluttering of your walls gave you away. Heavy pants escaped your lips as he bottomed out into you—walls contracting and squeezing him so good that it nearly had him whimpering.

And he watched as you braced yourself for the hard, heavy thrusts you were used to—the ones that would knock your breath out of your lungs and have you dumb and drooling into the mattress by the time he was done with you; that would have him out of breath and sweating, thighs tense and shaking as he emptied his load into you for the third or fourth time of the night.

But this time was different—slow, deep strokes that had your jaw slack and eyes half-rolled back. He could feel every inch of your walls as your cunt tightened and fluttered around his cock. Each roll of his hips had your thighs twitching and trembling and your toes curling as Ran let out shaky breath while he turned his head to the side, pressing his lips against your ankle as he continued the steady pace.

Each drag of his cock against your walls had his arms tensing and flexing on either side of your head, shaky groans that he couldn’t quite hold back spilling from his lips as your cunt clung to him like a lifeline—wrapped around his cock so tight that each slow roll of his hips had his eyes knocking back.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped into your skin as he buried his face into your neck again, “Feel so good.”

And you were letting out barely intelligible babbles, begging him to fuck you faster, harder, but Ran couldn’t bring himself to do it—the new pace unlocking something primal within him, a warm unfamiliar feeling that had heat pooling in his lower stomach and spreading across his body like a wildfire.

He forced himself to pull his face from the crook of your neck, pressing his lips against yours again, and he inhaled sharply through his nose as your babbles for more shifted into high pitched whines and desperate moans.

His lips brushed yours, breath mingling and creating a dizzying sensation that had him light headed. His eyes traced your face, hips stilling against yours as he watched your eyes water, glassy and unfocused and barely trained on his face, lips wet and swollen.

You were beautiful—you were always beautiful but right now….

He brought one hand to cup the side of your face, watching as you instinctually leaned into his touch, eyes lidded and glossy, filled with a sort of intense love and trust that had never been directed toward him his entire life. You looked at him as if he weren’t Haitani Ran, a wanted criminal, a gang executive, a murderer and a liar and a coward.

Or maybe you looked at him like that because he was Haitani Ran.

His throat felt tight, his heart felt heavy.

“I love you,” he breathed out before he could stop himself and he watched as your eyes widened, if only slightly, but he didn’t give you the chance to let his words register, instead leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your lips as he began to rock his hips into you again.

He fucked himself deep, deep into you—as if he couldn’t get close enough—his slow place gradually shifting into a faster one. Your walls clung to his cock and he was letting out low groans into your mouth as he felt your cunt spasm around him.

You were close, he could feel it in the way your hips were rolling up to meet his, he could hear it in the way your moans were becoming breathy as your voice shook, in how your arms were wrapping tight around his shoulders, trying to hold him as close as possible.

“‘m gunna cum,” you sobbed against his lips, “‘m gonna cum, Ran, I-“

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence, one particularly sharp thrust of his hips had your jaw going slack and your eyes rolling back, body spasming beneath his. Ran let out a low groan, lips pressed to your jaw as the feeling of your walls contracting tight around him pushed him right over the edge—mind hot and fuzzy as he spilled his cum deep inside of you.

He panted against your skin, body heavy on top of yours as you went limp beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to recover from your high.

Ran let out a hiss as he let his cock slip out of you, rolling onto his back to pull you onto his chest. Your eyes were tired and droopy as you looked up at him and Ran let out a soft hum, bringing one hand up to cup your head as the other traced patterns on your skin.

“Ran…” your voice was soft, shaky, you still sounded half out of it but there was a question in your eyes that made him anxious.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured.

“Will you be here when I wake up this time?” your eyes were sad, your lips wobbled, and Ran’s heart was in his throat as he looked down at you.

The words spilled from his lips before he could consider what they meant, “I will.”

And he supposed the relief and adoration on your face was worth the fact that he would have to confront questions that even just the thought of made him sick and fearful. But you rested your head back down against his chest, eyes fluttering shut and breath evening out and Ran knew he wouldn’t have the heart to go back on his word—not with you.

He toyed with your hair as you slept soundly on his chest, his own eyes slowly drooping shut as exhaustion took hold. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of your head once before letting his head drop back against the pillow, and as he slowly allowed himself to drift off to sleep to the sound of gunshots and shouting in the distance, he couldn’t help but wonder how many blanks were left.

—-

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