let me ask you something: what are the roles of an empress and why did it include sleeping with a four-armed, four-eyed, 7ft tall entity with two monstrous cocks?
well, technically, the official imperial duties definitely forgot to mention the part about managing a four-armed man in your bedsheets every night– that if the court advisors saw your nightly schedule, they’d probably have a collective heart attack.
because as the empress, you are supposed to be the purest and the most sacred woman in the whole empire, because you represent order, tradition and the light of the sun.
how about sukuna? oh, don’t mind him, he’s just the guy who eats people–
and the big guy who’s currently acting like a jealous lion in your private chamber tonight.
sukuna hadn’t said a word since he sneaked in and just remained sitting on the floor of your veranda, probably thinking about how he has an incredible sense of smell– because all he can sniff on you is the scent of imperial incense and… err… the emperor’s presence.
“why are you pouting, sukuna?” you asked softly, not looking at him.
“no, i’m not.” he denied and scoffed. “pouting? huh. nonsense.”
you finally looked at him, catching the way his lower set of eyes narrowed, looking exhausted by his own irritation.
your duties as empress had kept you busy for three days straight, and in those three days, he had no choice but to wait for you like a good boy (he hates it and he is furious about the idea).
“it’s the emperor, isn’t it?” you asked, wearing a small, knowing smile.
sukuna clicked his tongue. “i saw that weakling kiss your hand.”
you sighed and crawled across the tatami mats until you were close enough to him. “you understand that– by law, he is my spouse, right? it’s quite standard for a married couple.”
“your spouse,” he grumbled, refusing to look at you but his lower set of eyes were twitching . “three nights you’ve kept me waiting. in favor of what? that spineless worm?”
“you know as well as i do that we have zero interest in one another. we barely even speak behind closed doors,” you explained calmly.
though, the way he called the emperor spineless worm could be considered a crime if he were a normal citizen– luckily, he’s not.
“he has his concubines, and i... well, i have a very demanding curse to deal with,” you touched one of his biceps and looked up at him. “i explained this to you before.”
he crossed his arms over his chest as he turned away, staring pointedly at the moon outside. a clear message that insinuates he’s still sulking.
you’ve known him long enough now that his moods no longer terrify you. in fact, seeing him this wound up, just made you want to tease him even more.
“are you truly jealous of a man who can’t even hold a katana properly?” you taunted playfully, as if singing your words to him sensually. “i didn’t realize the great ryomen sukuna felt threatened by just anyone.”
it might have worked because his lower set of eyes snapped open fully, glare narrowing down at you. “watch your tongue. you know that i could end his lineage whenever i want.”
“but you won’t,” you said, moving your hand to touch him lightly around one of his huge biceps. “because then i’d have even more work to do, and you’d see me even less.”
he let out a frustrated breath, still looking away. he was being difficult on purpose now, wanting you to work for his forgiveness.
however, given the amount of times you’ve slept with this man, you know exactly how to make him fold by now.
sukuna can play the role of the terrifying monster all he wants, but he’s still driven by the same instincts as anyone else because after all– he’s still a man. actually, since he has twice the senses and twice the... everything... his reaction is usually twice as explosive as well (if you know what i mean).
slowly, you stood up as your hands went to pull the ties of the first layer of your outermost robe. then the next layer, and the next.
all his eyes were watching every layer fall down and when he looks up every time, he’s taking you in from multiple angles at once using all of his four eyes because he simply didn’t want to miss a single glimpse– more like he was hungry for a peek of everything.
you let the last of your garments slip away, standing before him completely naked now.
he went silent, his primary eyes are now locked on you, while his other eyes are actively travelling around your body– your breasts, your hips, waist, and that sacred thing in between your thighs he’d been deprived of for days.
his throat moved as he swallowed hard and his four hands, which had been clenched into fists before, slowly relaxed now.
“still thinking about the emperor?” you whispered, stepping in between his knees.
sukuna reached out, wrapping his hand around your waist to pull you closer to him. “what emperor?”
he groaned as you hoisted yourself up, settling onto his lap. against the expanse of his thighs, you felt like a doll because his body was so huge, so unnaturally solid, that sitting on him didn’t feel like sitting on a person at all.
his lower hands came up immediately to cover the entire span of your lower back, while one of his upper hands slid up to the back of your neck and the other began to roam slowly down your side, caressing and massaging every part he desired.
“you’re still so tense,” you murmured and leaned back slightly, relishing the way his eyes watched the movement of your chest.
“have you been letting that fool touch you?” he asked.
you let out a soft, melodic laugh, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, pulling just enough to make him look you in the eyes. “why would i?”
his hands paused their roaming for a second.
“besides,” you continued playfully, “why would i ever settle for one of anything when i have you? why would i go to him for a fraction of what you give me? if i want to be held, i have four arms to do it. if i want to be seen, i have four eyes watching me.”
you leaned in closer, making your breasts jiggle that his eyes immediately feasted on. good thing he has four.
“tell me, why would i bother with a man who has only one of everything, when i get two from you? it would be a downgrade, wouldn’t it?”
you did a great job.
because the last lingering bit of his foul mood snapped, replaced by a dark, wicked smirk at the corners of his mouth.
“you’re a silver-tongued brat,” he growled, as he resumed traveling your body with his hands. “you talk too much.”
his large hands slid down to pull you even closer into his lap, effectively burying his face in your neck. he was completely undone, his jealousy forgotten the moment you reminded him that no matter what the palace offered said, you’d still end up sitting on him like this.
“you have a lot to say for someone so small and fragile,” he rumbled as his upper hands moved to grip your waist, his fingers nearly meeting around in the middle, while his lower hands began a slow, agonizingly path over your skin.
then he leaned in and whispered, “if you’re so sure about your choice, then let’s see if your body remembers me.”
one of his hands slid upward, cupping one of your breasts, grazing the center with his thumb with just enough pressure to tease you.
“here?” he asked.
“ah… yes..”
his other hand drifted down, tracing the side of your hip before dipping inward, sending feathery touches with his fingertips over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh– almost touching the spot you wanted him the most, but somehow he was avoiding.
he watched your expression with all four eyes, devouring the way your pupils dilated and the way your mouth was agape from pleasure.
“and here?” he murmured this time. “does he know how you like to be held here?”
“n-no..” you gasped.
he chuckled and continued his restless exploration of your body using his hands. he was mapping you out, reclaiming every territory he felt the emperor had trespassed on just by standing near you.
“very well.” he leaned down and playfully nipped at your ear.
every time he asked and every time his hands found a new spot to touch, you could feel him growing taller and bigger down below, and because there are two– which are significantly larger than a human’s, they’re so hard to miss while they brush repeatedly against the side of your thigh. and as they grew bigger and harder, he was forced to spread his legs wider just to accommodate the sudden growth.
he leaned down, his primary mouth capturing yours with a deep kiss that involved his tongue sweeping into your mouth, showing you how much he missed you by his wide-mouthed kisses and bruising bites that he immediately replaced with a slide of his tongue.
while he kept you occupied with the kiss, you felt his body move, making the markings on his torso split open, and his second mouth parted abruptly.
then, you let out a muffled gasp against his lips as you felt a second, much larger tongue beginning to lap at you.
“sukun–ah!”
“shhh.”
it was a surreal, overwhelming sensation to be kissed so thoroughly above while his stomach mouth began to devour you below.
his lower hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wide over his lap to give that mouth better access, then gripped your ass to keep your middle part leveled to his second mouth.
he was being surprisingly thorough, swirling his tongue and dragging it against your sensitive bud that had you curling your toes.
“how about here?” he murmured into the kiss.
you couldn’t even form the word yes anymore; you could only nod frantically while your hands pulled his hair as the dual sensation sent sparks behind your eyelids.
he pulled back just an inch, showing you his dark and blown out eyes, looking drunk just from the taste of your lips and whatever he was lapping at below.
you didn’t even realize how you are now laying beneath him on your bed now. everything just felt like your nerves were being set on fire because the dual sensation was stripping away every bit of your imperial dignity.
he could feel you trembling, feeling the way your body was completely at the mercy of his two mouths and four hands. he was tasting and teasing you with that huge tongue, his upper hands pinning your wrists to the mat while his lower hands squeezed your hips, tilting you up to give his torso better access.
“you’re shaking, your highness,” he rasped and gave your lips a peck before he nipped on your lower lip. “is it too much? or is it just that you’ve been starved for a real man’s touch?”
you tried to answer, but all that came out was a broken whimper as his stomach tongue dragged a long line right over your center once again. you were already too sensitive, because he’d been busy sucking and playing with that sensitive bud all along that you no longer remember how many times it made you come.
and the screens of your chamber were the only thing separating the absolute carnality on the floor from the rigid decorum of the imperial court. outside, the pitter-patter of feet neared your veranda, followed by the careful voice of one of your ladies-in-waiting.
“your imperial majesty?” the voice of your head lady-in-waiting. “please forgive the intrusion, but there is an emergency at the eastern gate. the ministers are calling for your seal immediately. the emperor... he is indisposed and cannot be found.”
obviously, the emperor is missing because he’s probably somewhere messing around with a high ranking courtesan or with one of his concubines.
you tried to draw in a breath to answer, but sukuna had other plans– instead of pulling away to let you handle your duties, his grip on your wrists tightened, pinning them harder above your head.
“ignore her,” his stomach mouth took a slow lap at your center that made your hips buck involuntarily.
“i... i can’t,” you gasped. you swallowed hard, trying to collect whatever’s left in you to give out orders. “stay where you are. i am... performing a private ritual. i will be out shortly.”
“your majesty?” the voice sounded confused, closer to the sliding doors now. “your voice sounds... strained. are you ill? the ministers say it cannot wait.”
sukuna let out a low chuckle against your skin. he loved this. he loved the danger, and the fact that he was currently marking, licking, and kissing the empress while her subjects begged for her at the door.
he moved his lower hands down, hooking them under your knees and pulling you even wider, exposing you completely to the mouth on his torso.
“tell her to go away,” he whispered, his stomach tongue swirling agonizingly on your sensitive bud. “tell her the empress is busy being claimed by a god.”
“sukuna, stop,” you hissed, though your fingers were clutched in his hair, pulling him closer rather than pushing him away.
it was chaotic as hell– at least inside your mind. you were trying to be mindful of the fact that one of your ladies-in-waiting is outside the door, but sukuna is making it impossible by the way his touches and kisses intensified– both on your two lips.
you’re embarrassed at how much of a mess you are currently down there, even felt the liquid gushing out and spilled on the futon. at the same time, sukuna shifted his weight, pressing his two massive shafts firmly against your thigh, reminding you that he was nowhere near finished.
“your majesty?” she called again, her hand on the sliding screen. “i’m coming in to–”
“stay out!” you shrieked, even as your back arched off the floor in a silent scream of pleasure. “give me... ten minutes. tell them i am coming.”
you heard the lady-in-waiting stumble back, murmuring a panicked apology before her footsteps hurried away.
sukuna pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his four eyes dark and blown out with a mix of lust and wicked triumph, looking completely unbothered by your situation.
“ten minutes?” he taunted and in a fluid motion, he sat back on his haunches, releasing your wrists.
you watched, breathless and bare on the mats, as he undid the knot and pushed the fabric down past his hips.
what you’d seen straining and felt brushing on your thigh earlier were finally laid bare. there was no more guessing, because the sight alone was enough to make your throat go dry.
a devilish grin formed on his lips as he saw you looking intently at them and leaned back slightly, bracing his upper arms behind him, while his lower hands gripped his own thighs, spreading his knees wide to give you a full, unobstructed view of exactly what he was offering.
“you’re so worried about your duties,” he rumbled and gestured toward his lap with a tilt of his head, as if daring you to choose the empire over him.
“those ministers can wait,” he hissed. “the empress has a more pressing obligation right here.”
he leaned forward just an inch. “suck them.”
you looked at him, at the four eyes watching for your surrender, and the twin calamity waiting for you… and you knew the eastern gate could burn to the ground for all you cared.
you crawled forward, leaving the empress behind on the mats, and gave sukuna exactly what he asked for.
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• genre: smut, married au (not related to jjk lore)
• content warning: mdni (minors do not interact), explicit sexual content, degradation kink, heavy profanity and explicit insults throughout, rough/aggressive sex all in all, this is very toxic (given naoya is here, it’s toxic by default)
Ten years.
That’s how long you’ve been legally tied to Naoya Zenin.
He is a lot of things: a narcissist, a misogynist, and a man who definitely spends more time on his hair than he does on his personality.
But for a decade, your arrangement was simple. You lived like ghosts: no touches, no "how was your day," and certainly no shared bed. The only time your lips ever met was at the altar on your wedding day.
You were vibrant everywhere else. You were the life of the party, the girl with the sharpest wit and the loudest laugh— except when you crossed the hallways of the Zenin estate.
Around him, you were a stone— a statue.
The Zenin elders love their tradition, which is basically code for sitting in a room, having dinner all together. But tonight, Toji was there. And God, Toji was a breath of fresh air in a room full of stale, ego-inflated assholes.
He didn’t care about your "rank” or label. When you made a dry comment about the soup, he barked out a laugh and fired back a rebuttal that actually had you giggling.
Across the table, Naoya looked like he had swallowed a bag of lemons. His knuckles were white, his eyes darting between you and the cousin he both worshipped and envied.
The front door hadn't even fully clicked shut behind the last guest before the air in the foyer turned toxic.
Naoya was leaning against a pillar while he looked at you with that arrogant grin, but his eyes were twitching.
"You looked like a desperate little bitch tonight," he spat. "Giggling at Toji’s every word? It was embarrassing. Have some fucking dignity, even if you aren't a real Zenin."
You stopped mid-step. Usually, you’d just walk past him. But tonight?
Tonight, the ten years of repressed bullshit finally boiled over.
"Dignity?" You turned. "You’re talking to me about dignity? You spent the whole night staring at Toji like a kicked puppy wanting its master’s attention. It’s pathetic, Naoya."
His grin vanished. He stepped into your space, trying to intimidate you. "Watch your mouth. You’re lucky I even let you keep that last name."
"Oh, fuck your last name!" You snapped, the volume of your voice echoed through the silent halls. "You’ve spent a decade acting like I’m beneath you, like I’m some fucking piece of furniture. Then the second I have a human conversation with a man who isn't a total prick, you lose your mind? What is it, Naoya? Are you mad I’m talking to him, or are you just mad he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be?"
The silence that followed was heavy. Naoya’s face went through shock, fury, and something that looked like wounded pride.
"Go to hell," he hissed.
"I’ve been in hell for ten years, darling. I’m going for a drink."
You didn't pack a bag. You grabbed your keys, shoved past him, deliberately clipping his shoulder, and marched out the door.
As you tore down the driveway in your car, your heart was hammering against your ribs. You pulled out your phone and hit the group chat.
Behind you, in that big, cold house, Naoya Zenin stood in the foyer, staring at the closed door.
He told himself he didn't care.
He told himself you were just a tool, a nuisance. But as he looked at the spot where you had just stood, his chest felt tight.
It wasn't love. Naoya didn't know how to do that.
But it was a possessive, ugly jealousy that was currently eating him alive. And for the first time in a decade, the house felt way too fucking quiet.
By the time you were four or more shots deep into the "I Hate My Husband" cocktail menu, the world had turned blurry. Then the air in the bar shifted. It got more annoying somehow? Like a devil stepped on it.
Naoya stood at the entrance— well, yes, a devil indeed stepped inside the bar.
He immediately spotted you slumped over the mahogany bar, took one look at your messy hair and flushed face, then his jaw tightened so hard.
"Get up," he commanded as he reached for your arm. "You’re making a fucking scene."
"Oh look! It's the my fucking husband!" You chirped, swaying as you stood. You shoved his hand away. "Go away, Naoya. Go polish your ego or whatever the fuck you do at night."
He managed to pour you into the passenger seat of his car, but he couldn't pour you into silence. As he was driving, you were practically singing insults to him. Cause what? Being drunk is a good excuse, you can be as HONEST as you can because you’re under the influence of alcohol. Smart, right?
"You think you’re so special because you can move fast?" You slurred, gesturing wildly at the dashboard. "You’re just a fast-moving asshole. Toji doesn't even have a cursed technique and he still makes you look like a background character. A background character, Naoya!"
"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you," Naoya hissed, knuckles white on the steering wheel. The mention of Toji was like pouring salt in an open wound. "You’re drunk and pathetic. It’s embarrassing that I’m even seen with you."
"Then don’t be! Leave me at the bar! Leave me on the side of the road!" You shouted, kicking the floor mat. "You’re just a fragile little boy. Does it hurt? Does it hurt that even when I’m wasted, I’d rather talk to a wall than you?"
"I said shut up!" Naoya roared, the car swerving slightly as his composure finally snapped. "You don't know shit! You're a trophy that doesn't even look good on the shelf anymore!"
"I'm not a trophy, I'm a person! A person who fucking hates you!"
When the car stopped in the Zenin driveway, you refused to move. You gripped the door so hard. "I'm not going in. I’m sleeping in the garden. At least the dirt is more welcoming than you."
"Like hell you are."
Naoya didn't negotiate. He stormed around the car, ripped the door open, and unbuckled you. Before you could process it, he grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you over his shoulder.
"Put me down, you bastard!" You screamed, your fists drumming against his back. You wiggled violently, your legs kicking the air. "Let me go! I’ll bite you! I swear to God, Naoya, I will bite your shoulder!"
"Try it and see what happens," he growled as his hand gripped the back of your thighs.
He marched toward the sliding doors, ignoring your muffled curses and the way your dress was riding up.
He didn't drop you until he reached the center of his own room, the room you never entered. He tossed you onto the tatami mats, hovering over you, chest heaving.
"You're an embarrassment," he panted, as his eyes bored into yours.
"And you're a fucking loser," you wheezed back, looking up at him with glassy eyes.
The morning sun filtered through Naoya’s room, mocking you with its brightness.
You were sprawled on his futon. the first time in a decade you’d ever been in his bed.
Naoya was already up. He was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, looking infuriatingly put-together in a black yukata. His eyes were cold, tracking you as you sat up and clutched your pounding head.
"Finally awake," he drawled. "Do you have any idea the amount of shit I’m going to have to clean up because of your little performance last night? The servants are already whispering."
You squinted at him, the memories of the car ride, the screaming, the insults, the way he’d hauled you over his shoulder— hit you. But you didn't feel guilty. You felt light.
"Let them whisper," you said.
You stood up, swaying only slightly. "I didn't do anything wrong, Naoya."
"You embarrassed me," he hissed, stepping closer. "You disrespected me in front of the family, and then you acted like a common whore at a bar."
"Oh, shut the fuck up," you snapped, waving a hand dismissively. "I’m done with the lectures. I’m done with the cold glares. I’m done with you. I want a divorce."
The word made Naoya’s face go pale for a split second before a dark, ugly sneer twisted his features. He let out a sharp, mocking laugh that didn't sound nearly as confident as he wanted it to.
"A divorce? You think it’s that easy?" He took two long strides, invading your space. "What’s the real reason? Is this about last night? Is it because you want to go fuck my cousin instead? Is that it? You’ve been salivating over Toji since he walked in."
You looked him dead in the eye.
"Honestly, Naoya? Yeah," you whispered. "Maybe I do. Because let’s be real—Toji probably has a bigger dick than your entire personality. And it’s definitely bigger than whatever you’ve been hiding under that yukata for ten years."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Naoya’s jaw dropped, his ego not just "tampered with" but shattered into a million jagged pieces. He looked like he wanted to scream, or maybe choke you, or maybe, for the first time in his life, admit that he was terrified of you actually leaving.
"You... you low-class—"
"Save it," you interrupted, walking toward the door without looking back. "I’ll have the papers sent. Try to sign them without crying too hard."
—--
You turned for the door, but Naoya was faster. He moved way faster, immediately slamming his palm against the frame to block your exit.
"I’m not fucking done with you!" He roared angrily. "You don't get to say something like that to me and then just walk out. You don't get the last word!"
"Get out of my way, Naoya!" You shoved his chest with both hands, fueled by a decade of held back rage.
You lunged at him, trying to physically plow through him.
It was a mess.
You grabbed his collar and he grabbed your waist to steady himself, but his heel caught on the edge of the raised tatami— making his balance snap. He went down hard, and because you were still tightly fisting his yukata, you went right down with him.
The air left his lungs as he hit the futon. You landed squarely on top of him, your knees bracketed around his hips, and your chest heaving against his.
For a long, agonizing minute, the only sound in the room was the ragged rhythm of your breathing. The anger was still there, but it was momentarily forgotten by the sudden body contact with each other. Naoya’s hands were still gripped tight on your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid you’d run away if he let go.
You looked down at him. His hair was a mess, messy across the pillow, and his dark eyes were wide.
Slowly, you reached up. You didn't slap him. Instead, you let your hands roam over his face. Your thumbs traced his jawline, then moved up to squeeze his cheeks—hard. You gripped his face, hoping this small move could break this man.
"You have such a pretty face, Naoya," you whispered. You leaned down until your lips were inches from his ear, he flinched a little— tickled by your hot breath as you continued to whisper. "You really are a beautiful, arrogant little god, aren't you?"
He let out a shaky breath, his grip on your waist tightened until it almost hurt.
"But your mouth..." you continued, your fingers dug into his skin as you forced him to look at you. "If you could have just learned how to shut that fucking mouth for five minutes over the last ten years... if you weren't such a pathetic, insecure prick..."
You felt his heart hammering against your chest. You couldn’t tell if his rage is being fueled by what you said or if he is finally showing signs of liking his wife all along.
"I would have loved to fuck you," you breathed, watching his pupils dilate. "I would have let you do whatever you wanted. But you just couldn't stop talking, could you?"
You felt him shiver underneath you, a genuine— almost terrifying tremor of desire.
Between the two of you, the agonizing ten years of wasted tension was finally forcing its way out.
Naoya stared up at you, chest rising and falling. For a second, he looked paralyzed by what you’d said. Honestly, he was shook to his core that he’d been so close to having exactly what he wanted, only to realize he’d talked himself out of it for a decade.
"Is that right?" He hissed.
Before you could blink, he moved. In one violent motion, the world spun. The ceiling replaced the floor, and you were slammed back into the futon with the weight of him pinning you down.
He bracketed your arms above your head, squeezing your wrists against the mat. His hair was completely wrecked, and the “i-don’t-care-about-my-wife” mask had finally cracked, revealing a man who was starving for the very person he’d spent years insulting.
"You think you’re the only one who’s been holding back?" Naoya growled, face inches from yours. He mimicked your earlier gesture, one hand leaving your wrist to grip your face, his thumb pressed firmly into your lower lip. "You want me to shut my mouth? Fine."
He leaned down, until his forehead was pressed against yours.
"You spend ten years acting like a statue, then you come alive for him? For Toji?" His voice dropped, it sounds suspiciously calm now. "I’m the one you’re married to. I’m the one who owns this house. And if you think I’m going to let you walk out of here after telling me you’d rather fuck him than me, you’re more delusional than I thought."
He shifted his weight, pressing his lower body firmly against yours, making sure you felt exactly how much your "bigger dick" comment had affected him.
His eyes were burning, not even trying to be subtle with the desperate hunger in there that he couldn't hide behind a rebuttal.
"I don't need to say a fucking word to show you how wrong you are," he muttered against your skin.
He wasn't grinning anymore. But instead of breaking, you started to laugh.
It wasn't a sweet giggle or a nervous titter; it was a loud, mocking cackle that bubbled up from your chest and hit him right in the face. You looked up at him and all you saw was a pathetic, blonde boy playing dress-up in his father’s authority.
"Oh my God," you wheezed. "You really are that insecure, aren't you? You're literally vibrating because I mentioned someone else's name. Ten years of 'I don't care about you,' and one mention of Toji has you acting like a territorial stray dog. It’s fucking hilarious, Naoya."
His grip on your wrists tightened until the skin bruised. "You think this is a joke? You think I’m some comedy act for you to laugh at?"
"I think you're the punchline," you shot back. "You're so obsessed with being the best, but you’re terrified that in the one place it actually matters, you’re just nothing."
That was the final straw.
Naoya didn't have a witty rebuttal left.
He didn't have a condescending remark. He just had rage.
He was so fucking done with how much you’d tethered with his ego that he lunged down, crashing his mouth against yours for a bruising and desperate kiss. An attempt to reclaim an authority he is not sure he had over you in the first place.
"Shut up," he growled against your mouth between wet and messy stabs of his tongue. "You’re a brat. You’re a loud-mouthed, ungrateful bitch who doesn't know her place."
You didn't pull away. You didn't even try to escape.
You rolled your eyes from the sensation and almost wanted to punch yourself for getting hypnoticed by that move.
But you didn’t let him just have his way through it. You freed one hand from his loosened grip and slammed it against the back of his neck, letting your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer as you fought for dominance in the kiss.
You broke away for just a second, trying to gasp for air. "Is that the best you’ve got? You kiss so fucking bad, Naoya. Slow down, you're embarrassing yourself again."
"I’ll kill you," he whispered, though his hands were wandering down your sides with a shaky hunger that suggested he’d much rather do the opposite.
"Do it then," you challenged with a feral grin splitting your face as you pulled his head back down by his hair. "But we both know you'd rather have me stay and hate you than be alone with your own shitty ego. You're a fucking loser, Naoya."
You bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and for the first time in a decade, the silence of the Zenin estate was replaced by the sound of two people finally tearing each other apart.
This wasn't a love story; it was a fucking exorcism.
Naoya was usually so calculated, but now his fingers were trembling as he shoved the fabric of your dress down your shoulders.
"You're so fucking pathetic," you gasped, back arching off the futon as he bit a trail of fiery kisses down your neck. "Look at you. The great Naoya Zenin, reduced to a desperate dog because I bruised his tiny ego. Does it hurt, Naoya? Knowing you’re only touching me because you’re scared I’ll find someone better?"
"Shut your fucking mouth," he snarled. He hooked his fingers into your underwear and yanked them down, his immediate eyes scanned your body. "You talk so much shit for someone whose heart is beating out of her chest right now. You’re just as desperate as I am. You've been starving for this for ten years, you ungrateful bitch."
He pressed his weight into you with his hard and lean body, pinning yours into the mats. He started to grind against you, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. He wasn't even inside you yet, but the friction of his clothed dick against your bare pussy had you let out a sharp, involuntary moan.
"Oh, did that get you?" He mocked with a grin returning to his face as he watched your eyes cloud over.
"In your dreams," you hissed. You reached down, diving beneath the folds of his yukata.
You found him immediately. His dick is stiff, pulsing, and undeniably ready. You wrapped your fingers around the length of him, and gave him a firm, possessive stroke that made his entire body go rigid. "Look at this. Look how hard you are just because I told you you’re a loser. You’re a fucking masochist, Naoya. You love that I hate you."
Naoya’s head fell back, and a strangled groan escaped his throat as you moved your hand up and down faster, your thumb circling the tip at the same time.
"I'm going to... I'm going to break you," he panted.
"Try it," you challenged.
He didn't wait. He shoved your hand away and forced his way between your thighs, his fingers diving into your pussy without warning. You were already wet— a fact he didn't hesitate to point out with a mocking laugh.
"Look at this," he whispered, while his three fingers worked you with a fast-paced in and out. "You’re soaking for me. All that talk about Toji, and here you are, falling apart because I touched you. You’re a liar, and a fucking mess."
"And you’re still... a fucking prick," you managed to choke out, your fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving deep red scratches on his skin.
You were sick of looking at his smug, judgmental face while he worked his fingers inside you.
You wanted to humiliate him as much as he wanted to dominate you. So, you grabbed his hair and shoved him down. You didn't just pull him toward your body suddenly, forcing him back against the pillows so you could straddle his head.
"You want to talk so much, Naoya? Use that mouth for something useful instead of just spewing bullshit," you hissed, slamming your pussy down onto his face.
The weight of you forced his head into the futon.
He let out a muffled sound against your thigh while his hands came up to grip your hips. He tried to pull away, because his ego was clearly reeling from the sudden shift in power, but you leaned forward, tangling your fingers in his hair, pinning him there.
"Don't move," you commanded. "Eat. Since you’re so obsessed with being a 'master' of everything, show me how good you really are."
Naoya’s pride must have been screaming, but his body was a traitor.
After a second of tense resistance, you felt his tongue swipe against you, filled with a desperate need to prove himself. He wasn't being gentle. He was eating you out, making his tongue work with the same aggressive speed he used in a fight.
"Fuck," you gasped, as your head fall back. "Is that... is that the Zenin technique? Just being a persistent little dog?"
He let out a growl against your skin, flicking his tongue harder and his teeth grazing your clit in a way that made your vision go white. He looked up at you from between your legs.
"You’re a failure, Naoya," you moaned, pulling him by the hair even tighter against you. "Ten years... ten years and you finally... oh god... you finally shut the fuck up."
He bit your inner thigh, before going back to work on your clit. He was determined to make you scream his name, to make you take back every insult you’d ever throw at his head.
You were both vibrating with hatred. And your insults turned into broken moans as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.
"Still... a loser," you managed to wheeze out, even as your hips began to buck uncontrollably against his mouth. "Still... just a... god, fuck."
He didn't stop until you were shaking, your body arched in a violent climax that left you slumped over him.
The moment you stopped shaking, Naoya didn't give you a second to breathe. He grabbed your waist and flipped you back onto the futon so fast. He was hovering over you, and his yukata was already discarded. You looked down momentarily and now his dick looked thick and angry, pulsing with the same rage that was written all over his face.
"My turn to make you shut up," he growled.
He didn't ease into it. He grabbed your knees and shoved them back toward your shoulders, pinning you in a brutal mating press that left you completely exposed and vulnerable.
He lunged forward, burying the full, thick length of his dick into your pussy in one unapologetic thrust.
"Fuck!" You screamed, as your internal walls stretched to accommodate him. "You—you arrogant bastard!"
"Yeah, keep screaming," Naoya hissed as he began to slam into you. Each thrust was heavy,his balls slapping against your ass too because of the force. "Tell me again how Toji’s dick is bigger while I’m stretching you out like this. Tell me while I’m fucking the soul out of you."
You reached up, nails digging into the muscles of his chest, carving red scratches through his skin. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head down. "You’re still... a pathetic prick, Naoya! You're only hitting it this hard because you're insecure! Is this all you have??"
"I'll show you speed, you bitch," he snarled, sure enough his pace became frantic and punishing.
He was bottoming out with every stroke, his dick was hitting your cervix with a force that made your breasts bounce. He reached down, gripping your throat, to remind you exactly who was on top.
"Look at you," he panted. "Ten years of acting like a saint, and now you’re under me, taking my dick and begging for more. Your pussy is so tight, it’s like it was waiting for me to finally claim and fuck it."
"Claim and fuck it? Ah!" You wheezed, even as you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. Your body was betraying every word out of your mouth. "You’re just—ah!—you’re just a man I’m using to get off!"
"Keep lying to yourself," Naoya groaned. He started to grind his hips against yours at the deepest point of the thrust, his dick was twitching inside your, not even calming down even after several balls deep thrusts. "You love this. You love that I’m the one inside you. Say my name. Say it, or I’ll stop right fucking now."
"Go to hell, Naoya!" You shouted, but your hands moved to his ass, pulling him back in every time he tried to withdraw.
"Say it!" He roared, slamming into you one last time.
The friction was unbearable, the feeling of his thick cock filling you up while you both threw insults and hate at each other made the climax hit harder. You screamed his name in an angry outburst, as he came deep inside you. His body shook with the force of his release, pinning you into the mat.
The sun was high now, but neither of you had moved.
Naoya was still pinned deep inside you and the room was reeking with the smell of sex and the absolute destruction of your decade-long cold war.
Just as Naoya started to pull out, a very sophisticated tapping echoed from the sliding paper doors.
"Master Naoya?" A servant’s voice called out, muffled but clear. "The elders have requested your presence in the courtyard for the morning briefing. They’ve been waiting for twenty minutes."
Naoya froze. Then scrambled to his knees, his face went pale as he tried to look for his discarded yukata. He looked desperate to maintain the facade of a cold clan leader without even realizing he was currently covered in your nail marks and hickeys.
"I will be there shortly," Naoya called out. He glared down at you. "Tell them I was—"
You looked at his panicked, arrogant face and felt a surge of pure, chaotic evil.
"Oh, Naoya!" You wailed, purposely shouting your voice loud enough to carry through the entire wing of the estate. You arched your back, grabbing the headboard and letting out a long moan that sounded like you were being split in half. "Don't stop now! Fuck, you're so deep!"
Naoya’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He lunged forward, his hand immediately diving to cover your mouth, but you bit his palm hard as a muffled laughter bubble in your throat.
"Is everything alright, Young Master?" The servant asked, their voices trembling with awkward realization.
"Everything is fine!" Naoya hissed through gritted teeth.
You didn't stop. You reached up, grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him back down into you, ,making your hips buck up to meet him with an unmistakable slap.
"God, Naoya! You're so much better than your cousin!" You screamed, making sure to project your voice right at the door. "Fuck me harder, you blonde prick!"
Outside, you heard the sound of the servant’s footsteps practically sprinting away in pure terror.
Naoya looked like he wanted to melt into the tatami and die. His image was currently being dragged through the dirt by the woman he’d spent ten years ignoring.
"You fucking bitch," he whispered, though he didn't pull away. In fact, seeing him so humiliated, so completely stripped of his dignity, was the biggest turn-on yet.
He looked down at you with a mix of genuine hatred and burning lust in his eyes, and realized he was trapped.
"What's the matter, Master Zenin?" You smirked, pulling his head down by his earlobes until your lips brushed his. "Afraid the elders will find out you’re actually human? Now shut the fuck up and finish what you started. I'm not done ruining your morning."
"if i headshot you three times this game, you send a dick pic."
naoya zenin x f!reader
• genre: smut, streamer au, enemies-to-lovers
• content warning: mdni, explicit sexual content, heavy profanity & aggressive/vulgar insults, degradation (kink), rough/aggressive sex, power play, public humiliation
wc: 10, 758 (ao3 link here)
this is a highly explicit work of fiction. reader discretion is strongly advised.
for a chill girl like you, it’s too obsessive to be watching naoya zenin’s stream on your second screen right now, all while you’re timing your queue with him for the past hour.
his face cam showed the usual look of pure, unadulterated arrogance, his dyed hair messy, and a headset resting over his ears, the other pair of it slid backwards from his ear, showing his piercings there.
he was of course, in the middle of a fucking rant, leaning into his mic to insult a viewer who had the audacity to donate five dollars just to ask for gameplay tips.
“tips? you want tips from me?” naoya scoffed. “here’s a tip: sell your pc and buy a soul, you fucking loser. don’t ever talk to me like we’re on the same level just because you dropped a fiver.”
the chat was moving at light speed. half of them were simping for his degradation, and the other half were spamming ‘lmao’ or ‘classic naoya.’ he didn’t give a shit and just refreshed his queue.
you’ve been trying to snipe his lobby because you hated this prick. he was talented at valorant, sure, but his personality was a literal biohazard. that made you want to see him lose his mind on stream, and you were petty enough to stay up all night to make it happen.
match found.
the map was bind and you checked the scoreboard immediately.
there he was: ‘zenin_nao’ playing jett, because of course he was.
you picked chamber to counter then cracked your knuckles.
“oh, look at this,” naoya muttered on stream, squinting at the screen. “another fanboy in my lobby. ‘guest_01’? what a pathetic fucking name. hope you’re ready to get carried or get flamed, i’m not in the mood for dead weight.”
the game loaded in, and before the barriers even dropped, you hit shift+enter.
all [guest_01]: sup, princess. try not to cry on stream when you lose k?
naoya paused, his character frozen for a second as he read it. then he let out a mocking laugh. “this nobody really has balls. you hear this shit?” he said to his chat, his eyes widening. “humble me? you couldn’t humble me if i played with one hand tied behind my back, you little shit.”
you weren’t done. you knew exactly how to get under the skin of a guy whose ego was his only personality trait.
all [guest_01]: lets make it interesting then.
all [guest_01]: if i headshot you three times this game, you send a dick pic.
the chat erupted.
the scrolling text became a literal series of ‘OH SHIT’, ‘WTF’, and ‘CLIP IT’. naoya’s face went from smug to a shade of insulted red in record time. he leaned so close to the camera to the point that his nose was almost touching it.
“you fucking what?” he hissed, voice dropping. “you think you’re funny? i’ll fucking hunt you down. i’m going to make sure you uninstall this game by the time we hit round twelve. you’re dead, you hear me? you’re fucking dead.”
the barriers dropped.
naoya played like a demon, fueled by pure spite. he dashed into a-short, looking for an early pick, but you were holding a tight angle with a headhunter.
you didn’t panic one bit, his degradations are nothing on you, he can’t possibly kill you with trash talking you like that.
you waited for that silver hair to peek.
crack.
the kill feed showed your name and a golden crosshair next to his.
all [guest_01]: 1/3.
“fuck!” naoya slammed his desk and the sound echoed through his shitty mic. “that was luck! he was holding a pixel, what a fucking rat! stay in your hole, you coward!”
even now, he addresses you as ‘he’. just imagine his fucking reaction when he learns you’re a girl who’s clapping his ass.
his chat was losing it, mocking him, which only made him tilt harder.
by round five, he was playing sloppy, overpeeking everything because he was desperate to kill you and tea bag your corpse.
you caught him again on a mid rotation. he tried to updraft over a smoke, and you clipped his head mid-air with a vandal.
all [guest_01]: 2/3. hope you’re picking a good filter, nao-chan.
naoya was vibrating with rage now. he wasn’t even calling out for his team anymore. instead, he was busy cursing at his monitor while his face contorted. “i’m going to ruin you! i’ll find out who you are and i’ll fucking end you! shut up! chat, shut the fuck up before i ban every single one of you!”
the game went on and your team was winning, mostly because naoya was throwing his life away just to find you. what a pathetic loser.
this time, naoya was tucked in a corner on b-site, waiting. you knew he was there. so you threw a trademark to slow him, then swung wide. he fired and missed by an inch, giving you the opportunity to click.
headshot.
naoya’s face on your second monitor was a deep, humiliated shade of red, his veins were practically popping out of his neck as he glared at the screen. he had just been revived by his sage, only for you to instantly dome him again from across the map with a guardian.
“fuck! are you kidding me with this shit?” he screamed, slamming his fist onto his desk so hard his webcam shook. “he’s cheating! he’s definitely fucking cheating! nobody hits those shots on a moving target, i don’t care who you are!”
the chat was a dumpster fire. they were tagging him, laughing at him, and clip chiming every single death.
naoya was usually the one doing the bullying, so seeing him get systematically dismantled by a ‘random’ (worse, is a girl) was high-tier entertainment for his miserable followers.
you leaned into your keyboard as your smirk widened. the ‘dick pic’ threat had already turned him into a stuttering mess, but you wanted to see him actually break.
all [guest_01]: you’re playing like a boosted silver, nao.
all [guest_01]: new deal since you’re so easy to hit.
all [guest_01]: if i headshot you one more time this half, the pic isn’t enough. you’re gonna have to go on cam and masturbate for me.
the stream went dead silent for a second. naoya stared at the chat box with his mouth hanging open. he looked genuinely stunned, feeling his ego finally hit a wall. then, the chat exploded into a literal wall of ‘???’ and ‘NO WAY’ and ‘DO IT’.
“you... you sick fucking freak,” naoya spat with his trembling voice. “you think i’m some cam girl? you think you can talk to me like that? i’m naoya zenin! i'll have your fucking ip tracked before the next round starts!”
but he didn’t leave the game. he was too prideful to forfeit, and too obsessed with proving he was better than you.
round nine.
bind, defense side.
naoya was playing u-hall, holding the angle with an operator, his hands were visibly shaking on the mouse.
he was terrified that every time he peeked, he was thinking about your threat. he was tilted out of his mind, overthinking every micro movement.
you didn’t even use a real gun now. you pulled out the sheriff and jiggled the corner, baiting out his op shot.
thump.
he missed and the bullet hit the wall behind you.
“fuck! fuck! fuck!” he yelled, frantically trying to cycle his bolt.
you swung wide and you immediately saw his silver haired jett frantically trying to pull out a pistol. you took a breath, lined up the crosshair with his forehead, and clicked.
pop.
all [guest_01]: 4/3.
all [guest_01]: hope you’ve got the lotion ready, princess. i’m waiting.
naoya didn’t scream this time. he just slumped back in his expensive gaming chair, staring at the ‘killed by’ screen with a look of pure, hollowed out defeat. his chat was filled with ‘CAM ON’ and ‘PAY UP’.
he leaned forward on his face cam and his eyes dark and narrowed. “you think you won? you think you can just embarrass me like this and walk away?” he hissed. “i’m going to find out who you are. and when i do, i’m going to make you regret every single word you typed in that fucking box.”
he didn’t end the stream immediately. he just sat there, breathing hard, looking like he was debating whether to actually follow through or just smash his monitor into pieces.
all [guest_01]: stop barking and start working that hand, nao-chan. everyone’s waiting.
he let out a jagged, frustrated breath and finally ripped his headset off, throwing it against the wall.
the stream cut to a ‘technical difficulties’ screen, but you knew you had burrowed deep under his skin.
the next evening, you were just lounging in the main menu while your agent was standing idle.
you were scrolling on your phone when suddenly, the notification chime hit.
friend request: zenin_nao
the sight of his username made you wheeze.
the prick actually did it. he probably spent all night scrubbing through the match history and seething.
you clicked accept, and not even three seconds later, the party invite popped up. of course, you joined and the second your icon appeared in his lobby, his voice cracked through the headset.
although he sounded harsh, he was obviously incredibly stressed.
“you. guest_01. you better have a fucking mic,” naoya snapped. his voice sounded like he hadn’t slept a wink.
you keyed your mic, leaning back with a grin. “keep your pants on, nao-chan. i’m here.”
there was a deafening silence.
you could almost hear his brain short-circuiting through the fiber optics.
naoya, the guy who spent his entire career preaching about how women were ‘naturally inferior’ at everything from breathing to gaming, just realized he got clapped by a girl.
“fuck... you’re a girl?” he stuttered. “you’re kidding me, no fucking way. you’re using a voice changer. there’s no way some bitch hit those shots. you were cheating… you had to be.”
“cry harder,” you laughed, the sound loud and clear. “i clapped you on stream in front of thirty thousand people. you lost the bet. so, are we doing this, or are you a bigger coward than i thought?”
“shut the fuck up!” he yelled, though you can feel his embarrassment have doubled now. “listen to me. i’m not— i’m not doing that shit on cam. do you have any idea what that would do to my family name?”
“not my problem,” you countered. “you talked all that trash, called me a ‘nobody’, and you said you’d ruin me. turns out you’re the one getting ruined by a ‘nobody’. pay up, zenin.”
you heard him pacing. the rustle of his clothes, the heavy, frustrated sighs. he sounded like a cornered animal.
“look,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, desperate mumble. “let’s... let’s negotiate. i’ll give you skins. i’ll give you whatever fucking radiant points or gift cards you want. i’ll even duo with you and carry your ass to immortal. just... drop the bet. tell my chat it was a scripted bit or something.”
“carry me?” you snorted.
this guy is a fucking loser, indeed!
“nao, i carried you in that lobby. your aim is shaky and dogshit. why would i want to duo with a loser?”
“i’m not a loser!” he barked, slamming something, probably his desk again. “i’m the best player on this fucking server! you just got lucky! fine, you want something else? money? i have more money than you’ll ever see in your pathetic life. name a price to shut your mouth.”
you let out a low, amused laugh, leaning back in your chair as you listened to the frantic tapping of his fingers against a desk.
“money is boring, naoya. i want you to actually stick to your word for once in your pathetic life. you lost. and now the whole internet is waiting to see if the great naoya zenin is a liar or a man of his word.”
“i’m not a fucking liar!” he exploded. “but i’m not doing it on stream! do you have any idea how many people are watching? if i do that shit on cam, it’s over. my career, my family name, everything— gone because of some bratty girl who got lucky with a vandal.”
he paused, and you could hear him taking a shaky, sharp breath.
he sounded like he was pacing his room, cornered and frantic.
“look,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a cautious tone. “i’ll... i’ll do it. but not over the internet. i’m not giving you a recording you can blackmail me with for the rest of my life. i’m not that fucking stupid.”
your eyebrows shot up. “oh? you’re suggesting a meetup? that’s bold for a guy who just got his ego trashed.”
“shut up,” he snapped. “i have a private suite in the city. it’s safe there. no cameras, no recording devices. you come there, i do what you want, and then we never speak again. you delete the chat logs, you tell your friends it was a joke, and we’re done.”
you couldn’t help but laugh. “a private suite? naoya, do i look stupid? how do i know you’re not just planning to have me kidnapped or some shit to save your reputation? you’re a prick, i wouldn’t put it past you.”
the silence on the other end lasted for a few seconds before he let out a insulted scoff.
“kidnapped? you think i’m some low life criminal? i’m a zenin. i have more pride in my pinky finger than you have in your entire body. if i wanted you gone, i’d have bought your house and turned it into a parking lot by now.”
he sounded genuinely offended, his elitist pride flaring up.
“i don’t need to kidnap a girl to win an argument. i’m giving you my word because i’m a man who doesn’t owe anyone shit, especially not a coward who’s scared to meet me face-to-face. i’ll send you the address and the keycode. you show up, or you admit you’re just a loud mouthed bitch who’s too scared to collect her prize.”
you could practically hear the smug, challenging smirk returning to his face.
he was backed into a corner, but he was still trying to find a way to make it look like he was the one in control.
“fine,” you said. “send the address.”
the address was for a high-rise penthouse indeed.
you rode the elevator up in silence and when the doors dinged open, you walked straight to the suite number he’d sent.
you didn’t even knock, you just punched in the code and you’re in.
the place was spacious and clean.
filled with expensive furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, and naoya standing by a white marble kitchen island.
he was wearing a designer sweater, looking like he was posing for a magazine cover, but his knuckles were white where he was gripping the edge of the counter.
he turned around, ready to spit out some elitist insult about how ‘ugly’ or ‘pathetic’ you probably were, but the words died in his throat.
his eyes traveled from your boots up to your face, and his smug expression didn’t just fade, it transformed into an obvious wide-eyed bafflement.
“you…” he trailed off, his jaw tightening.
he clearly expected a stereotypical girl he could bully in person.
but instead, he was looking at someone who looked like they actually had a life outside of a discord server.
“you’re guest_01? no fucking way.”
“what? disappointed i don’t have a neckbeard, princess?” you smirked, tossing your bag onto his overpriced sofa.
you didn’t give him a second to recover. “i’m not here to small talk. i’ve got things to do. strip. now.”
naoya flinched. “don’t— don’t talk to me like that! you think you can just walk into my house and start ordering me around?”
“the bet was the bet, naoya. you lost. your pride is already in the trash, don’t make me wait.”
he went to open his mouth, but a sharp knock at the door interrupted him.
when it opened, one of his helpers, a guy in a suit who looked more like a bodyguard, stepped in.
naoya cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of authority.
“your phone, please,” the guy said, holding out a hand toward you.
“and any recording devices,” naoya added. “he’s going to take your electronics to the other room. if you want this to happen, you play by my rules. i’m not having a single pixel of this recorded.”
you rolled your eyes, pulling your phone and your smartwatch off and dropping them into the guy’s hand.
as the door closed and the bodyguard left with your stuff, you turned back to naoya and let out a mocking laugh.
“are you fucking serious right now?” you stepped closer, watching him instinctively take a half-step back. “a bodyguard, naoya? really? you’re such a fucking baby. you’re so terrified of a girl that you need a grown man to hold my phone for you? god, you’re even more pathetic in person than you are on stream.”
naoya’s eyes flashed with pure, unadulterated rage. “i’m being careful! i’m not taking any chances with my reputation.”
“your reputation is already ‘guy who got gapped by a girl’,” you countered, crossing your arms. “now stop stalling and get those clothes off. or do i need to call your guard back in to help you unzip your pants since you’re clearly too shaking to do it yourself?”
his teeth literally grinded together.
he reached for the hem of his sweater, his fingers twitching. “i’m going to make you regret this,” he hissed, though the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes told a completely different story.
you walked over to a leather armchair positioned perfectly opposite the island and dropped into it, crossing your legs. you leaned your chin on your hand, watching him strip his clothes for you.
“well?” you prompted. “i’m waiting, nao-chan. clocks ticking.”
naoya let out a frustrated snarl, his fingers trembling as he gripped the hem of his designer sweater and yanked it over his head.
his hair was a mess, falling over his eyes as he tossed the garment onto the marble floor.
you had to admit, the prick was built.
he wasn’t just some skinny gamer who lived on energy drinks; his chest was lean but defined, with pale, smooth skin and sharp collarbones.
his abs were tight, a clear v-line disappearing into the waistband of his expensive trousers.
he looked like a goddamn model, and the realization that he actually took care of himself made the humiliation of the situation ten times more potent.
“stop... stop staring at me like that,” he hissed, his voice cracking as he reached for his belt.
he stepped out of his pants, leaving him in just his boxers.
he was stalling, his face a deep, bruised red, but he couldn’t fill your silence with his usual trash talk. he eventually hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers and pushed them down, kicking them away with a jerky, humiliated movement.
your breath hitched in your throat, and for the first time since you entered the room, the smug comment you had ready upon seeing his dick died on your tongue.
the guy was fucking massive.
even when soft, he was heavy and thick, hanging with a weight that felt completely at odds with his lean, lithe frame.
as he stood there, completely exposed and shivering from the vulnerability, you felt a sudden, traitorous throb between your own thighs.
you can’t believe you’re actually wetting yourself from the mere sight of his private part.
you had come here to ruin him, to laugh at him, but looking at him like this; packing like a monster, made you feel on edge too.
“you’re... you’re a freak,” naoya muttered, though his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your gaze.
he was shaking, obviously because his pride was at war with the biological reality of being naked in front of a girl who had just spent the last forty-eight hours destroying his ego.
you shifted in the chair, feeling the wetness of your own underwear, your heart hammering against your ribs.
“you talk a lot of shit for someone who looks like that, naoya,” you said, your voice a little huskier than you intended. “are you just going to stand there and let me admire the view, or are you going to start?”
he finally looked up, his golden-brown eyes narrowed and wet with frustrated tears, his chest heaving. “i hate you,” he whispered, his hand finally reaching down to wrap around himself.
his fingers could barely even close around the girth of it. “i fucking hate you so much.”
“good,” you breathed, leaning forward, your eyes fixed on his hand. “now show me what those hands can do, princess.”
naoya’s hand finally closed around himself. it was fucking absurd, his body was lean and wiry, built like an athlete, but between his legs, he was carrying a monster.
the head was already peeking out, pink and thick, and as he started to move his hand in a slow stroke, the skin stretched tight over the shaft, revealing the pulsing veins that made your own pussy throb in sync with his heartbeat.
“look at you,” you purred, leaning so far forward in the chair that you could smell the expensive cologne still clinging to his bare skin. “you’re shaking, nao-chan. is the big, bad streamer scared of a little audience? or is it just because you know how much of a pathetic slut you look like right now, naked and jerking off because a girl told you to?”
“shut the fuck up,” he hissed, his voice dropping into a strained rasp.
he was starting to get hard, and as he did, the size of him became even more terrifying.
his dick was lengthening, thickening until it the tip was weeping a bead of pre-cum.
“i’m only doing this so you’ll leave me the fuck alone. don’t— fuck— don’t think this means anything.”
“it means everything,” you countered, your hand sliding down between your own thighs, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties.
you were fucking dripping while watching his dick slide in and out of his grip, seeing the way his abs rippled with every strained breath, was making you lose your goddamn mind.
“it means you’re my bitch. every time you go live from now on, every time you talk shit to some kid in chat, you’re gonna remember sitting here like a dog, tossing your own salad for me.”
naoya’s eyes snapped to yours, full of pure, concentrated hatred, but his body was betraying him.
his strokes were getting faster, more desperate. the slapping sound of his palm hitting his own thighs was loud and echoing in the room.
he was fully erect now, making his dick look like it would split you in half if he ever got his hands on you.
the sight of it made a fresh wave of wetness burst from your pussy, soaking your seat.
fuck.
“you like it, don't you?” he suddenly spat.
he defininitely saw the way your eyes were glued to his cock, and they way you keep shifting in your seat.
“you’re fucking soaking wet just looking at me. you’re probably just some lonely bitch who sniped my game because you wanted a piece of this, didn’t you? you’re pathetic.”
“maybe,” you whispered, not even bothering to deny it as you watched him pump that massive dick, his thumb rubbing over the head. “but at the end of the day, i’m the one sitting in the chair, and you’re the one performing like a circus animal. keep going, princess. i want to see you blow that load all over your expensive floor. i want to see how much of a mess a prick like you makes.”
naoya let out a choked, broken sound, his head tossing back as his pace became faster.
he was close, his entire body tensing up, muscles popping in his arms and chest as he neared the edge, his cock twitching violently in his hand.
naoya was losing his fucking mind.
he was flushed from his chest up to his ears, a mess of sweat and pure, raw humiliation. every time his palm slapped against the base of his throbbing cock, he’d let out a little grunt that he tried to swallow down.
you didn’t stay in the chair as well. you can’t…
you wanted to make him feel shit as much as you can, to make sure he understands that you were the one totally in control right now… and that he’s just your little bitch with a show right now.
you stood up slowly and walked over to him until you were standing right in his personal space.
the smell of his pre-cum hit you immediately.
“you’re losing steam, princess,” you whispered, circling him. “honestly, this is getting a little boring. i thought the great naoya zenin would be a lot more into this. are you not horny enough? or is your dick just too big for your tiny ego to handle?”
“shut— fuck— shut up,” he gasped, his eyes blown out and hazy as he stared at your waist. “i’m... i’m almost…”
“almost isn’t good enough,” you interrupted, stepping directly in front of him. “do i really have to do everything for you? do i have to actually put in effort to get this pathetic little streamer in the mood?”
you reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt, the one he’d discarded earlier, and tossed it aside, then leaned in.
you pressed your chest right against his face.
and he immediately realized that you weren’t wearing a bra, and the soft weight of your breasts smothered his mouth and nose, burying him in your scent.
naoya made a muffled, strangled sound against your skin, his hands pausing on his dick for a split second before he absolutely lost it.
you shoved his face deeper into your cleavage, allowing his nose to brush against the underside of your tits as he let out a long, shaky moan.
“there we go,” you cooed, your hands reaching down to cup the back of his head, forcing him even deeper into your chest. “is that better, nao-chan? feel how wet i am for you? it’s almost a waste to let all that go to the floor, isn’t it?”
the contact turned him into an animal.
his grip on his cock became frantic as he buried his face in your tits like a starving man, turning his muffled moans into desperate, shaky whimpers.
“that’s it,” you hissed, feeling your own pussy clench and leak another wave of juice down your legs as he nuzzled frantically between your breasts. “show me what a pathetic, needy dog you are. cum for me, naoya. blow it all over yourself while you hide your face like a coward.”
he couldn’t hold back anymore.
with one final, deep groan, his body went rigid.
he slammed his hand down the length of his cock one last time, and a thick, hot jet of cum erupted from the tip, hitting his own stomach and the floor.
he kept shooting, ropes of white splattering everywhere as his massive dick convulsed wildly in his hand.
he stayed buried in your breasts long after he finished, his breath hot and shaky against your skin, his body trembling as the post-nut clarity and the crushing weight of his own humiliation finally started to sink in.
you stood there for a moment, just feeling his breath against your skin as he slumped against you, completely spent.
his dick was still twitching in his hand, while he kept his face buried between your tits like he was trying to hide from the reality of what just happened.
you let out a mocking laugh and reached down, running your fingers through his messy hair, tugging just enough to force him to look up at you.
his face was a disaster; flushed, eyes glassy and blown out, and his lips parted as he gasped for air.
“look at you,” you giggled. “such a good, obedient little boy. you did exactly what i told you to do, nao-chan.”
he tried to scowl, tried to find some remnant of that sharp-tongued prick he was on stream, but he couldn’t find the words.
he was too far gone. “i... i fucking hate you,” he managed to wheeze out, though his hands were still resting weakly on your hips, keeping you close.
“shhh,” you whispered, leaning down. “you’ve earned a little reward.”
you didn’t give him a choice.
you pressed your lips to his, and for a split second, he froze, his brain probably screaming at him to pull away.
but then his ego snapped. he let out a desperate moan into your mouth, then his hands went up to cup your face with a violent sort of need.
it wasn’t a sweet kiss. you wouldn’t call it sweet if you shoved your tongue into his mouth, right?
naoya met you head-on, his tongue fighting yours, twisting as he tried to reclaim some shred of dominance. he was devouring you, his fingers digging into your cheeks.
when you finally pulled back, a thin string of saliva connected your lips before breaking.
naoya looked absolutely wrecked, his chest heaving, his eyes darting to your mouth as his head instinctively leaned forward to chase you, begging for more without saying a word.
“stay,” you commanded, stepping back and watching his face fall. “and clean up your mess. i’m leaving.”
later that evening, you were curled up on your bed, scrolling through the clips of his ‘technical difficulties’ stream from the day before. the comments were still a war zone of people wondering if he’d actually followed through on the bet.
your phone buzzed on the nightstand.
a message from an unsaved number.
[unknown]: you’re a fucking witch. i don’t know what you did to me.
[unknown]: my dick is still hard. fuck.
you smiled.
because he was clearly obsessed.
the arrogant, untouchable naoya zenin was officially on a leash, and he was the one pulling on it.
[you]: ready for round two, princess? or do you need to buy more lotion first?
it’s been a few weeks since that night in the penthouse, and the internet is basically in a state of permanent cardiac arrest.
naoya’s stream schedule has completely changed and started revolving around yours.
he went from swearing he’d have you banned and erased from the face of the earth to being in your lobby every single fucking day.
what’s even funnier is that…
the first time he admitted it on stream, he looked like he wanted to swallow a grenade.
“yeah, it’s the same bitch,” he had spat at his chat, his face turning that familiar shade of red. “she’s annoying as hell, but she’s the only one in this game who can keep up with my utility. shut up about the bet, or i’m banning the next ten people who type ‘dick pic’.”
now, it’s just your routine.
not only you, in fact.
but his too.
you’re sitting at your desk, headset on, watching his face cam on your second monitor as you both queue for another match.
“buy me a vandal, nao,” you sweetly demanded with a breathy whisper.
“buy it yourself, you lazy brat,” naoya snaps, though he’s already clicking the buy button for you. “i’m top fragging. i shouldn’t be funding your shitty habits.”
the game starts, and you’re playing sage.
ironic, considering how much he hates being ‘subservient’.
so you’re now following his jett around, walling off his flanks and keeping his health topped off while he dashes around like a maniac.
“heal! heal me now!” he shot called as he ducks behind a crate with 12 hp.
“what’s the magic word, princess?” you tease, holding the orb just out of range. “you know the rules. every time i save your ass, you bark for me. come on, let me hear it.”
“i am not fucking barking on stream!” naoya yells. he looks at his camera, seeing the chat spamming dog emojis. “get away from me! i’d rather die and lose the round than give you the satisfaction, you psycho!”
“suit yourself,” you chuckle, watching his health bar blink red. “guess you’ll just have to watch me top frag instead.”
he lets out a frustrated sound, more like a half growl and half whimper and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a ‘woof’ under his breath just as you click the heal.
“good boy,” you purr.
the third teammate, a guy playing omen, finally chimes in.
he’s been quiet all game, but clearly, he’s heard enough.
“yo, sage... you’re actually hilarious. and your aim is cracked. you got a discord or something? i feel like we’d actually vibe way better than you and this loud mouthed clown.”
naoya’s character stops dead in its tracks.
on the cam, his eyes narrow into slits, and he leans so close to his mic.
“who the fuck are you talking to?” naoya hisses, his voice dropping, a sign when he’s about to lose it. “did i ask for your input, you bottom-fragging piece of shit? she’s with me. pay attention to the map and keep your fucking mouth shut while we carry your heavy ass.”
“chill, man,” the omen laughs, oblivious to the fact that naoya is actually vibrating with rage. “i’m just saying, she’s a vibe. hey, guest_01, you ever played with a guy who doesn’t scream every five seconds? i could show you a much better time.”
naoya’s face is a mask of pure, unadulterated jealousy.
he isn’t even looking at the game anymore; he’s glaring at the team chat. “get out,” he snaps. “hey! i said shut the fuck up! she’s mine! we’re in a duo for a reason, you desperate little rat! if you say one more word to her, i’ll find out where you live and personally make sure you never have internet access again!”
“jealous, nao-chan?” you ask mockingly. “he’s being much nicer to me than you’ve ever been.”
“i’m not jealous!” he screams at the monitor. “i just hate losers! and you— you don’t talk to anyone else! you’re my pocket sage, and if i catch you giving that omen a single drop of utility, i’m ending the stream!”
the chat is absolutely losing it.
‘HE’S OBSESSED’ and ‘JEALOUS NAOYA’ scrolling so fast in his stream chat.
he’s completely exposed himself, and the best part is, he’s too mad to even realize how much he’s admitting.
the game ended with naoya nearly popping a blood vessel, and ten minutes later, you were both in a private discord channel with him.
the green light next to his name flickered as he unmuted.
“you’re such a fucking headache,” he spat. “why didn’t you mute him? you just sat there and let that pathetic loser flirt with you. you probably liked it, didn’t you? getting attention from someone who doesn’t know what a massive pain in the ass you actually are.”
“oh, absolutely,” you hummed, leaning back and spinning in your chair. “he was sweet, naoya. he called me a ‘vibe’ and he complimented my aim. when was the last time you called me anything other than a ‘brat’ or a ‘psycho’? maybe i should’ve given him my discord. he sounded like he actually knows how to treat a girl.”
“don’t you fucking dare,” naoya hissed. “you’re not giving your discord to some bottom fragging nobody. you’re stuck with me.”
“you sound so insecure when you’re jealous, nao-chan. it’s cute,” you teased, enjoying the way he let out a frustrated breath. “it makes me wonder how you’re going to act next month. or did you not check your email yet?”
there was a pause, the sound of aggressive clicking filling the silence. “the valorant invitational expo?” he muttered, his voice shifting from angry to annoyed. “the one in the city? of course i’m invited. i’m the face of the regional server. wait…”
another pause. you could practically see the gears grinding in his head.
“don’t tell me,” he groaned. “don’t tell me they invited a random like you just because you sniped me on stream.”
“not a random, naoya. the top-ranked female player on the server,” you corrected him. “they want us there for a showmatch. they’re even putting our booths right next to each other. isn’t that sweet?”
“i’m going to kill someone,” naoya whispered, but he did not exactly sound angry. “two days of being stuck next to you? with cameras everywhere? with fans watching? i won’t be able to say half the shit i want to say to you.”
“is that right?” you laughed. “and what exactly is it that you want to say to me, naoya? or better yet, what do you want to ‘do’ to me? because the last time we were in a room together, you were the one with your face buried in my chest, crying like a baby while you came all over your floor.”
“i was not—! shut the fuck up!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “that was a one-time thing! a moment of weakness! if you bring that up at the expo, i will personally make sure you never see the light of day again!”
“hmm, we’ll see,” you said, clicking your tongue. “but just so you know, i’m wearing a sundress to the event. the kind that’s real easy to slide up.”
the silence on the other end was deafening. you could hear his shallow, shaky breathing, the sound of a man who was once again realizing he was completely and utterly fucked.
“you’re fucked up in the head,” he finally choked out. “i’m going to make your life a living hell at that expo. just wait.”
“i’m looking forward to it, princess,” you whispered. “don’t forget to pack the lotion. you’re gonna need it.”
then the day of the expo arrived.
the convention center was a zoo, filled with the smell of expensive cooling fans and energy drinks.
you could hear the loud cheer of the crowd from the main stage, but you were currently focused on the back entrance.
you walked toward the ‘pro player’ lounge, and as soon as you pushed the doors open, you spotted him.
naoya was surrounded by staff, looking bored and arrogant wearing a custom jersey.
he was in the middle of sipping from a bottled water when his eyes landed on you.
naoya actually choked.
he sputtered, water spraying down the front of his expensive shirt as he coughed violently.
the staff around him scrambled to help, but he shoved them away, his eyes locked on you, specifically on the way the sundress clung to your hips and the deep dip of the neckline.
“you…” he wheezed, his face rapidly turning a shade of red. “what the fuck are you wearing? this is a professional event, not a—”
“not a what, naoya?” you asked, walking right up to him and patting his chest with a smirk. “you look a little hot. is the air conditioning not working in here, or are you just happy to see me?”
he looked like he wanted to scream and pull you into a closet at the same time. “you’re doing this on purpose,” he hissed, leaning down so only you could hear him over the noise of the convention. “you look like a bratty little slut. everyone’s staring at you. i can’t even stand up right now because of you.”
“good,” you whispered back, giving him a wink before heading toward the booths.
the day was a series of interviews and showmatches.
naoya was a mess; every time you leaned over to check your monitor or reached up to adjust your headset, his aim would go to shit, causing his chat to have a field day, clipping every time he got distracted by you sitting just a few feet away.
once the first day wrapped up and the players were heading to their respective hotels. naoya was at the curb, waiting for his private car, looking exhausted and tense.
“where’s your ride?” he muttered as you walked up to him, your small suitcase trailing behind you. “your hotel is on the other side of the district, isn’t it?”
“was,” you corrected him, popping the trunk of his car before he could protest and tossing your bag inside. “i decided my room was too lonely. i’m staying with you.”
naoya’s jaw dropped. “the fuck you are! i didn’t agree to this! you can’t just—”
“i can and i am,” you said, sliding into the back seat and patting the spot next to you. “unless you want me to tell your manager why you were vibrating so hard during the third round of the showmatch. get in, nao-chan. we have a lot to talk about, and i don’t think a discord call is going to cut it tonight.”
the drive to the hotel was silent, mostly because naoya looked like he was one comment away from a total meltdown.
his hand was resting on his lap, and you could see the way his knuckles were white, his eyes darting toward your legs every time the streetlights hit the car window.
the second the door to his suite clicked shut, he turned on you, slamming his hand against the wood next to your head.
“you’re a menace,” he growled darkly. “you show up in that dress, you humiliate me in front of my fans, and now you’re invading my room? you really think you can just keep pushing me like this without any consequences?”
“i’m counting on the consequences, naoya,” you said, reaching up to trail a finger along the collar of his jersey. “you’ve been acting so tough all day. why don’t you show me if you’re still a good boy when the cameras are off?”
he let out a jagged sound, his pride finally snapping as he grabbed your waist and hauled you flush against him.
you could feel the hard ridge of his dick pressing into your stomach, even through the fabric of your dress.
“i’m going to ruin you,” he whispered against your lips. “i’m going to make sure you can’t even walk to the booth tomorrow.”
he slammed you back against the door, crashing his mouth onto yours violently.
there was no teasing this time, no slow build-up. what’s left is just his raw, frantic need.
he groaned into your throat as his hands flew to your chest, grabbing your breasts through the thin fabric of your dress.
“fuck,” he rasped against your lips, mounding your breast. “i’ve been wanting to rip these out of this goddamn dress since the second you walked into the lounge. you fucking brat.”
“ah— nao, wait—” you gasped, but the protest was swallowed by his tongue forcing its way back into your mouth.
it was a messy, wet war between your tongues; fighting for space while you scrambled at the zipper of his jersey. your nails dug into his shoulders, pulling at the fabric.
naoya didn’t have the patience for zippers, so he hooked his fingers into the neckline of your sundress and yanked downward with a sharp rrip.
the yellow fabric gave way, tearing down the middle and exposing your bare tits. he let out a jagged breath at the sight, his eyes dark and blown out.
“oh yes... look at you,” he hissed, his hands immediately cupping your breasts, and rolling his thumbs over your nipples until you let out a sharp, high pitched “ah!”
you didn’t stay still either.
you fought back, yanking his jersey over his head and tossing it somewhere.
your hands went straight for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle in your haste. “get... get this off, naoya! fuck, you’re so slow!”
“shut up!” he growled, biting down on your bottom lip so hard you tasted the tang of blood.
you bit him back, your teeth catching on his lip as you finally freed his dick from his pants.
it sprang out, already standing proud and throbbing, slamming the head against your stomach.
he was fucking huge, even bigger and harder than you remembered, the thick veins pulsing against your skin. “uhm... god, naoya,” you moaned, your head tossing back against the door as he buried his face in your neck, leaving dark, bruised marks.
his hand slid down, his fingers roughly pushing aside your lace panties until he found your pussy.
you were a complete mess, dripping wet and your juices immediately coated his fingers the second he touched you.
“you’re soaking,” he muttered. “look at how much of a slut you are for me. you’re practically leaking all over the floor.”
“fuck you, naoya! ah— right there!” you cried out as he shoved two fingers deep inside you while his thumb grinding against your clit.
you were clenching around him, your walls pulsing with a desperate need to be filled by the real thing.
“stop talking and... and put it in. i want it now.”
he let out a low, animalistic sound, his teeth grazing over your collarbone.
he was shaking, his pride is completely gone, replaced by a twitching need to claim you. his massive dick was rubbing against your wet slit, smearing pre-cum all over your folds.
naoya didn’t let you breathe.
before you could even process the weight of him against the door, he hooked his arms under your thighs and hauled you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist.
your torn dress hanging off your hips in shreds as he stumbled toward the bed, tripping over his own discarded pants. he threw you onto the mattress, but he didn’t give you a second to recover.
“you’ve been running your mouth all day,” he rasped, licking his lips. “time to put it to better use.”
he stood at the edge of the bed, leveling his throbbing dick which was already standing tall and angry. he reached down, fisting his fingers into your hair and pulling your head toward him.
“suck it. i want to feel how much you missed me.”
you didn’t need to be told twice. you leaned forward, darting your tongue out to lick the length of himt.
when you finally took him into your mouth, you let out a muffled “uhm!” the sheer length of him made your jaw ache instantly.
naoya let out a long, shaky groan, his hand tightening in your hair, forcing you deeper onto him.
“fuck... yes, just like that. you’re so good at this, aren't you? ah! fuck, your tongue—!”
he was even thrusting his hips instinctively, his breath coming in jagged hitches as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock.
he held your head in place like he was holding on for his dear life just from the sensation of you giving him a head, his body vibrating with the effort not to blow his load right then and there.
but you weren’t done being the one in control.
you pulled back with a wet pop, looking up at him with a defiant, hungry smirk.
before he could complain, you shoved him back onto the pillows and crawled over him. you positioned yourself over his face, your dripping, swollen pussy hovering just inches from his mouth.
you could see his eyes widen, his breath hitching as the scent of your own juices hit him.
“sit on me,” he choked out, his hands reaching up to grab your ass, fingers digging into your skin. “do it, fuck, i want to taste you.”
you lowered yourself slowly and your wet slit pressed firmly against his lips. “ah! yes... fuck, naoya!” you cried out as his tongue immediately lashed out, making sure he’s darting deep inside you.
he was eating you like a starving man, kissing your pussy sensually while swirling his tongue up and down your clit. constantly teasing and constantly sucking at the same time.
“uhm—! ah! right there, nao! fuck!” you arched your back, your hands clutching the headboard as he sucked your clit into his mouth, his fingers reaching around to pull your cheeks apart so he could get even deeper.
the sensation was overwhelming, his tongue was literally making your pussy lick more from licking to sucking.
he’s making you see stars while your pussy is clenching rhythmically, splashing more of your juice onto his face.
“you taste... so fucking good,” he managed to gasp out between licks, his voice muffled by your folds. “ah! fuck, look at how much you’re leaking for me. you’re a fucking mess. you’re my bitch, you got that?!”
“shut up and... ah! keep going! yes! ah! ah! ah!” you were losing it, your entire body was shaking as the first wave of an orgasm started to build up, and your internal muscles squeezing tightly around nothing while naoya continued to devour you with a relentless hunger.
it did not take a while before you were screaming stop and holding his face back, forcing him to stop licking because you were literally about to pee on his face.
the sensation was too much and it was tickling your sexual soul so much that his tongue was doing you all the favors that him eating you out felt much greater than when you were touching yourself.
he ate your clit and inserted his tongue inside your pussy with intent and naoya didn’t even give you a second to breathe after you came on his face.
he growled and grabbed your hips, flipping you over onto your back violently.
he was panting, his face smeared with your juices, his hair a mess, and his massive dick was throbbing so hard it looked like it was about to split skin.
“you’re such a loud-mouthed brat,” he hissed as he pinned your wrists above your head. “think you can handle this? think you’re big enough for me, guest_01?”
he didn’t wait for an answer and just positioned the broad head of his cock against your dripping entrance. you immediately felt the tip of him, thick and blunt, pushing against your folds, and as he began to drive forward, you let out a sharp, strangled “ah! ah! fuck, naoya!”
your pussy was being stretched to its absolute limit.
you could feel the walls of your vagina being forced apart, the skin of your entrance pulled taut while your hole adjusted around the size of him.
it felt like you were being filled to the brim, every nerve ending in your slit screaming as he buried himself deep inside you in one long, relentless shove.
“uhm—! god, you’re... you’re fucking huge,” you gasped, your head tossing back against the pillows. “you’re trying to... ah! break me, aren’t you? you pathetic... arrogant... prick!”
“shut your mouth!” naoya snapped, though his own breath was hitching in his throat.
he started to move, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in.
“you’re so tight... fuck! it’s like you were made to be stretched out by me. admit it, you fucking love being filled like this.”
he wasn’t just hitting you; he was hitting everything.
because of his size and the angle he was driving at, his dick’s head was hooking right against your g-spot with every single thrust.
“ah! yes! right there! oh god, fuck!” you cried out, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him even deeper. “you’re hitting it... ah! ah! don’t stop, you bastard! keep going!”
“i’ll stop when i say so!” he barked, his eyes narrowed with a mix of lust and pride as he watched your face contort in pleasure.
he was hammering into you frantically, just freely letting his massive dick slide through your entrance, creating the sound of loud and vulgar squelch from your wetness. “look at you... moaning like a slut. who’s the winner now, guest_01? who’s owning who?”
“uhm—! you’re still a bitch, naoya!” you choked out, even as your pussy clenched violently around him, milked by the sheer size of his shaft. “you’re just a... ah! ah! a big-dicked bitch! fuck! right there! ah!”
the insults were getting drowned out by the sound of skin slapping skin and the frantic moans escaping your lips.
naoya was losing his cool too as he felt your internal muscles squeezing him, begging for more.
he buried his face in the crook of your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth as he delivered deep, punishing stabs that made your vision go blurry.
“i’m gonna... fuck... i’m gonna cum so deep inside you,” he groaned, his voice breaking. “you’re gonna be full of me all through the expo tomorrow. everyone’s gonna see you and know... ah! fuck! know exactly what i did to you!”
“do it then!” you screamed, your nails digging into his back, drawing blood as your own climax began to build again, triggered by the relentless pounding against your g-spot. “fill me up, naoya! ah! ah! yes! fuck! now!”
naoya wasn’t satisfied with just hearing you scream from underneath him.
as soon as you peaked, your walls twitching and milking him with desperate, wet clenches, he let out a jagged growl.
he didn’t pull out; instead, he grabbed your waist with bruising force and hauled you upward, flipping you onto your hands and knees in one motion.
your pussy felt wide and raw, still throbbing from the stretch, but he didn’t give you a second to adjust.
he reached forward, his fingers fisting into your hair and yanking your head back so your spine arched, pushing your ass high into the air.
“you think you’ve had enough?” he hissed into your ear. “i told you i was going to ruin you. we’re just getting started.”
he lined his massive cock up with your opening and slammed with a single, violent thrust.
“ah! fuck! naoya!” you shrieked, your chest hitting the mattress as the sheer force of the impact rattled your entire frame.
taking him from behind felt completely different. he was hitting even deeper in this position, maybe until your stomach now, you don;t fucking know. all you know was he’s fucking tipping your pussy apart with his thick shaft sliding through the pool of your combined juices with loud squelch.
“uhm—! god, it’s too... it’s too deep!” you gasped, your fingers clawing at the bedsheets as he started to drill deeper into you.
he was relentless, his hips snapping forward arrogantly and every time he bottomed out, his balls slapped against you.
naoya was a maniac.
he kept a firm grip on your hair, using it to control the angle as he hammered away at your g-spot. “look at this mess you made,” he mocked as he watched his thick, veiny dick disappear inside you and pull out covered in your cum from earlier. “you’re so fucking wet. you’re begging for it, aren’t you? ah! fuck, you're so tight, i can barely—ah!”
“shut up and... ah! ah! just keep hitting it!” you cried out, your head tossing. “you talk too much... uhm! yes! right there! fuck, naoya, harder! slam into me like you mean it, you prick!”
“you want it harder?!” he barked, his ego flaring at the challenge.
but he still increased the pace, his thrusts becoming short stabs that sent sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your brain. “i’ll give it to you... ah! i’ll give you exactly what you deserve! hm fuck yeah..”
you were losing your mind from the sensation of his massive cock filling you completely, combined with the sharp pull on your hair and the vulgar sound of your bodies colliding.
your pussy was screaming, clenching around him so hard which made naoya grunt and bite his lower lip because it felt so fucking good.
he shifted, grabbing your hips with his sweat-slicked hands and dragged you upward until you were straddling him.
he leaned back against the headboard, his chest heaving, and his still hardening dick guiding you until you lowered yourself down, sliding down onto his full length in one slow, agonizingly deep plunge.
“ah! ah! fuck, naoya!” you gasped, your nails digging into the mattress as he filled you completely.
being on top lets you control the friction with how you ground your hips down.
naoya didn’t stay still, he was too hungry to be. his hands flew up to your chest, and made his mouth latch onto your breast.
he wasn’t just kissing; he was sucking, teeth grazing your nipple while he fisted his hands into your hair, yanking you down so you had no choice but to stay close to his face.
“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his voice vibrating through your chest as he sucked harder. “you’re so fucking wet, you’re drowning me. ah! look at you riding me like a pro.”
“you’re... ah! ah! still a prick!” you cried out, your own hands gripping his messy hair as you started to grind against him. the feeling was electric, every slide of his dick against your internal walls were sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
“you’re still so tight, you’re killing me!” he barked while his eyes rolled back, all while he sucked your other breast, pulling until you let out a high-pitched “ah! ah! ah!”, feeling the sensation of his mouth on your tits while your pussy clenched around his massive cock.
you started to bounce, faster and harder, making your breasts jiggle with every movement.
his hands never left your hair because he was using it to keep you locked in place. “i’m not... ah! i’m not slowing down for you! fuck, naoya, you’re so big... ah! it feels like you’re splitting me in two!”
“yeah? let me fucking split you then!” his hips were bucking upward to meet your downward thrusts.
he was hammering into you, and every time you slammed down, he’d suck harder on your nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive skin until you were sobbing with pleasure.
“oh god... yes! fuck! ah! ah! ah!” you were lost, your body is now moving on instinct as your pussy milk him, feeling his dick swell even more inside your aching, stretched-out folds.
he was staring up at you, his eyes dark, his lips swollen and red from your own teeth earlier, looking at you with a mix of pure, unadulterated possessiveness.
“ride me until you can’t walk,” he ordered, sounding more drunk while his grip in your hair is tightening until it almost hurt. “i want you to remember this feeling every time you look at me on stream. you belong to me.”
“i’m ... ah! fuck! ah! ah!” you screamed, your hips moving in a wild, uncontrolled manner until the pressure finally became too much, and you both shattered into an earth-shattering climax together.
you were bouncing wildly on top of him, your nails shredded through his scalp, and he responded by arching his back and driving his hips upward.
you felt his balls slap against your pussy with every frantic lunge, and when he finally exploded inside you, it was too much that it started to drip out.
you clutched his shoulders while your legs were shaking uncontrollably. you spasmed around him, milking every last drop of his cum. then you collapsed against his chest, both of you gasping for air.
the next morning, you woke up so fucking sore.
you groaned, trying to roll over, but your entire body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.
your pussy was swollen and throbbing, and your hips ached with a deep, bruised soreness that made every movement sting.
you crawled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom to brush your teeth.
you gripped the sink to steady yourself, your eyes half-closed as you stared at your reflection.
your neck was covered in hickeys and your hair was a tangled disaster.
you assumed he was still dead to the world in the king bed, out like a light after the absolute marathon he’d forced you through.
you had just started scrubbing your teeth when the bathroom door creaked open.
you didn’t even have time to turn around before you felt a heavy weight press against your back.
naoya was still stark naked with his hair still messy from sleep, and before you could even say out a “good morning”, he grabbed your hips with both hands and jerked you backward so your ass was pressed firmly against his hard, morning stiff cock.
“think you’re getting away that easily?” he rasped against your ear.
you didn’t even get to pull the toothbrush out of your mouth before he slammed his hips forward without warning, no lube, no foreplay, just the sudden, heavy pressure of him sliding into your tight, already-sore slit.
“ah! f-fuck—!” you choked out, the toothbrush clattering into the sink as you doubled over, your hands bracing against the counter.
his dick was massive, filling you up instantly, stretching you out until you felt like you might snap.
“you’re mine,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he started to drive into you right there in the bathroom. “i’m not done with you yet.”
sure enough after an hour of him absolutely wrecking you against the bathroom vanity, you were left in a state of complete ruin.
your legs were shaking, your pussy felt like it had been through a car wash, and every muscle in your back were screaming in protest as you tried to even stand straight.
naoya, meanwhile, was glowing with a satisfied energy that made you want to claw his eyes out, if you had the strength.
when you finally left the hotel, the transition to the expo was pathetic.
naoya didn’t bother with a cab or a shuttle.
he literally walked through the lobby with his arm hooked firmly around your waist, his grip so possessive and tight that you couldn’t have pulled away if you tried.
he was practically carrying half your weight, leaning down every few seconds to whisper something lewd into your ear, making sure you felt every ounce of his arrogance.
“look at you,” he hissed, his thumb digging into your hipbone. “you’re so sore you can barely stand. you’re just my favorite little toy, and everyone here is going to know it just by looking at the way you’re struggling to keep up with me.”
you tried to snap back, but all that came out was a breathless, “fuck... off, naoya.”
when the two of you walked into the player lounge, the room went dead silent.
naoya didn’t give a shit. instead, he steered you straight to your booth, which, true to the organizers’ plan was right next to his.
he didn’t let you walk to your chair; he literally guided you, his hand sliding down to your ass to give it a firm squeeze before he shoved you into your seat.
he leaned over the small partition between your booths, his face inches from yours, looking like a king who had just conquered a new territory. “stay right there,” he commanded. “don’t talk to anyone. i’m watching you.”
you slumped into your chair, the soreness in your hips making you wince as you sat down, and you saw his eyes track the movement with a sick, satisfied smirk.
he knew exactly why you were hurting and he knew exactly what he’d done to you in that bathroom.
as he turned to his own setup, you saw him glance at his chat, which was already scrolling past, thousands of people realizing exactly why you were walking so slowly and why naoya looked like he was vibrating.
“yeah, she’s staying here,” he said, shooting you a sharp, hooded look. “she’s a bit tired today. i gave her a hell of a morning workout.”
the chat went into complete meltdown, and you could only lean your head against your monitor, while feeling your face burning, knowing you were well and truly trapped.
nerd!choso who looks like he spends his life coding, but somehow got your legs pinned to the mattress.
nerd!choso who’s just a hungry animal with a sleeper build and a thick dick that knows exactly where your g-spot is.
nerd!choso who’s pressing his flat palm against your lower stomach, right above your pubic bone just so he can fuck you better.
choso kamo is barely holding it together.
he’s sitting in the third row, hunched over his laptop, and just staring at the back of your head three rows up.
it’s pathetic and he knows it.
that every time you tilt your head back to laugh at something your friend says, or run your fingers through your hair, he’d feel something scorching hitting his groin.
he knows exactly why his jeans are getting tighter from that.
and he knows it’s lust.
that he goes home and spends hours thinking about the way your skirt rode up when you sat down, and he knows exactly where his hand goes next.
you, meanwhile, were currently having a panic attack.
“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hissed, watching your phone screen glow in your lap as you frantically tapped at your photo gallery. “i think i deleted them.”
your friend leaned over, her eyebrows raised. “what? the ones from the cabo trip?”
“yes, those! the bikini set, the ones from the beach at sunset. i haven’t even backed them up to the cloud yet. i went to delete a screenshot and my thumb just hit everything.” you slumped in your seat, genuinely gutted. “they were literally the best pictures i’ve ever taken from that trip. i’m so stupid.”
your friend looked around the lecture hall, scanning the rows of students waiting for the professor to stroll in.
her eyes landed on the back, specifically, on the guy with the perpetually messy hair and the hoodie pulled low.
“wait, didn’t you say you needed help with that code for your digital media elective before? like, data recovery stuff?”
you followed her gaze and groaned. “oh, god. choso? the cs major?”
your heart does a weird stutter.
choso.
the guy who looks like he hasn’t slept in a week but knows the answer to everything.
just then, a guy from the front row turns around. “hey, choso? about the networking assignment, the encryption key keeps failing on the local host. i don’t know if it’s the syntax or the firewall.”
choso didn’t even look up, nor did he skim a textbook, or pause his music.
“you’re probably calling the function before the handshake completes,” he says, eyes fixed on his own monitor. “check your sequence flow. if you’re using java, you’re missing the parameter in the header. rewrite the handshake logic and it’ll resolve.”
the guy just blinks while nodding slowly. “right. yeah. thanks.”
you watch him, and your stomach drops.
there is something incredibly, stupidly hot about how he doesn’t care that he’s the smartest guy in the room. it’s not just the brainpower honestly; it’s the way he carries himself.
and it’s making you shift uncomfortably in your seat as you realize you’re suddenly very…
very wet.
you’ve wanted to talk to him for weeks, but he’s always seemed so… closed off.
your friend nudges your side, snapping you out of your daze. “well? go ask him. he’s either going to save your photos or stare at you until you melt. either way, you get what you want, right?”
you look back at him. he’s now staring at his screen again, but for a second, his dark eyes lock onto yours, and you swear he knows exactly what you’re thinking.
you walk toward him and you can feel the entire row of nerds, and your friend, who’s watching with a grin staring at your back.
choso didn’t look up immediately, but his posture stiffened. “can i help you?”
“hey,” you start with your lowered voice, sounding slightly shy. “i, uh, accidentally wiped my drive. i know you’re good at this stuff, so i was wondering…”
you lean in, invading his personal space just a fraction.
he finally looks up, and the contrast is jarring: that indifferent facade and the intelligence in his eyes suddenly clashing with the way his ears turn red.
his gaze drops to your chest for a split second before darting back to your eyes, and the fact that beneath the desk, there is a hard and big bulge in his jeans that wasn’t there a second ago.
oh.
the realization hits you.
he’s not just some unbothered, untouchable genius.
he’s a guy who’s just as desperate as you are, and he’s clearly been fantasizing about you way longer than you’ve been lusting after him.
you feel a wicked smirk form at the corner of your mouth.
choso kamo is not immune. and you’re just about to use that to your own advantage.
“here,” you murmur, sliding your laptop onto the desk between you. “it’s synced to the cloud. i really need those files back. they’re... personal.”
you watch him try to regain his composure as he clears his throat, but his hands are shaking just slightly as he reaches for the trackpad. “r-right. i can... i can look at the data recovery logs. it’s not hard. i just need to access the directory.”
he’s a stuttering, blushing mess, and honestly? it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
and you didn’t stay back, why would you?
instead, you scoot your chair right up against his, making your thigh press firmly against his leg which makes him freeze, his breath hitching, and his fingers hover over your keyboard.
“you’re doing great,” you whisper, leaning closer so your shoulder brushes his arm.
he makes a sound (almost a whimper) and stares intensely at the screen, his face turning an even deeper shade of red now.
he’s trying so hard to focus on the code, but you can see his pulse jumping in his neck, the way his jaw is set, the angular line of his profile, and you have to bite your own lip to keep yourself from trying to bite him.
he’s so smart, so capable, and so completely out of his focus with you right there. it’s delicious.
“see this?” he mutters, his voice cracking slightly as he tries to navigate the terminal. “i’m just... i’m pulling the headers. it should show the deleted index.”
“you’re such a genius, choso,” you say, watching him.
the terminal window flashes green text, scrolling at a speed you can barely track.
choso’s fingers are dancing across your trackpad. then, a familiar folder icon pops back onto your desktop, right where it’s supposed to be.
he exhales a shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders finally dropping when he sees he successfully retrieved your files.
“there,” he mumbles. “i recovered the cached index. your files are back.”
you click through the folder, skimming through the vacation shots, late night dinners, and you in a teal bikini at the beach. they’re all there.
you feel a surge of relief, followed immediately by that wicked urge to keep him flustered.
you lean back, crossing your legs, letting your knee press deliberately against his thigh again.
“you’re a lifesaver, choso. really. i don’t know how to thank you.”
he didn’t look at you this time because he’s busy staring at his own hands, his face still red.
he’s clearly trying to be a professional, but the way his chest is heaving says otherwise.
“you don’t have to,” he says, his voice strained. “it was... it was easy.. it’s nothing.”
you tilt your head, playing with the edge of your laptop sleeve. “are you sure? everyone wants something in return for a favor like this. you’re not gonna ask for anything? maybe a coffee? or a favor in return?”
he goes silent and pauses for a long time, his jaw tight as his gaze flickers from your face to the screen where your bikini photos are still pulled up.
he swallows, and when he finally speaks, he sounds like he’s forcing the words out against his better judgment.
“can i…” he clears his throat, his eyes darting to the screen, then back to you: terrified and bold all at once. “can i have a copy? of those?”
you blink, then let out a low, breathless laugh that you know makes his ears burn even brighter. “you want copies of my bikini photos, choso?”
he looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole, but he nods desperately, refusing to get back at his wors. “i mean— only if you... only if you don’t mind.”
you lean in, dropping your voice to a whisper right by his ear, watching the way his entire body shudders.
“i don’t mind at all. actually, i think i can do better than that. keep the ones you have, but... if you’re interested, i can send you something later tonight without the bikini.”
he goes dead silent.
his hands clench into fists on his desk, and his face is filled with pure, unadulterated shock.
he looks at you, his eyes wide, searching yours to see if you’re playing a game, and then he just nods.
a quick, jerky, overwhelmed motion.
“i’m interested,” he chokes out.
you smile, reaching out to tap his keyboard, closing the folder. “good to know. check your messages later.”
you stand up, leaving him there in the middle of the lecture hall while his face is burning and his breath coming in short, while his gaze is glued to your back as you walk away.
… all while his own dick is trying to poke out of his pants.
that could be it.
you’d intended for tonight to be a bit of a tease. maybe just a quick nude to keep choso on his toes, but you weren’t prepared for him to turn a simple “u up?” into something more entertaining.
by the time you were back in your own apartment, you were actually wheezing while you scrolled through his latest reply, clutching your stomach.
choso: i can set up an encrypted cloud link if you’re worried about privacy. nobody else will ever see them. i’ll make sure the metadata is wiped so they can’t be traced back to your ip.
it was just so him.
you could perfectly picture him hunched over his phone, brows furrowed while typing. but after all, the sincerity of his thirst was actually hilarious and cute.
meanwhile, across campus, choso was definitely not laughing.
because, why?
he takes this seriously. god forbid a man does not play when it comes to your nude photos.
not even his own dick is playing with you. because his pants hadn’t let up since you’d left him at his desk earlier.
his phone buzzed in his hand and the vibration nearly knocked himself off his bed.
you: lol. you nerd
you: [image sent]
he clicks the image.
and it’s you, in your bedroom in low lighting. you aren’t wearing a single thing, and you’re hitting the camera with that exact same look you gave him back in the lecture hall.
his eyes dropped instantly, travelling down your breasts while feeling the heat spread through his chest first, and then suddenly he felt it all over his body.
he even finds himself zooming in, then out, then back in again, as if he can’t get enough.
and the way you’re sitting, with your legs just slightly parted. it’s like your pussy is staring him down, teasing him for ever thinking an encrypted shit was the most important thing on the table.
his dick is beyond frustrated at this point, actually aching against his sweatpants, making him feel completely at your mercy from across campus.
his fingers are shaking so much that he can barely type. he’s just staring at every pixel, zooming in until he can see the faint goosebumps on your skin.
you: do you like it? or was the encryption talk more exciting?
he lets out a choked laugh while biting his lower lip. he was even questioning how he was able to type a reply amidst the strong urge to pull his pants and boxers down to start touching himself.
choso: the encryption is just to make sure i can keep this forever. you have no idea what you’re doing to me.
you: tell me more. what else have you been doing while thinking about me?
good question, because he’s about to get the best masturbation episode of his life right now. only because he’s got a treat from you.
he yanks his sweats down, kicking them away from his ankles, and his dick springs free, already weeping a bit of pre-cum. it’s angry and straining, and for the first time in months, he doesn’t have to close his eyes to imagine how your ass was peeking through your skirt, or how your breasts were extra plump that day.
as he wrapped his hand around his length, he’s staring at his phone’s screen. specifically, at your breasts that are just sitting there beautifullu, at your waist, and at your pussy.
the urge to bury his face on either part of your body made his first strokes painfully delicious.
he didn’t even have to play with his tip anymore just so he can keep on licking because your nude photo was enough to do him the favor.
“fuck,” he moaned, echoing in the quiet, dark room.
he’s done this a thousand times, but it’s never felt like this.
his dick got slippery so easily that it was not hard for him to pick up a faster pace. the friction of his own palm is driving him insane because it’s not your palm.
he thinks about you sitting in that lab, leaning in close enough for him to smell your shampoo, and he realizes he wasn’t just being a nerd when he asked for those photos.
he was being a fucking addict because he wants more.
his hips started to jerk instinctively as he played with himself more, arching his back against the bed while he used his other hand to keep the phone’s screen near his face.
he’s close, way closer than he usually lets himself get this fast.
he stares at your eyes in the photo one last time, and didn’t look away. he starts imagining you’re actually right there, watching him lose it.
in his head, he’s got his long legs spread for you, biting down on the hem of his t-shirt, just enough to show off his abs, while his hand is wrapped tight around his dick.
the idea made his whole body tense up. like, toes curling into the bedsheets, back arching, the whole nine yards and he finally lets go, and it’s way more intense than usual.
he’s cumming so hard it’s a total mess, but he wouldn’t stop. he just kept stroking through it, riding his own orgasm, expressing his frustration of not being able to eat you or fuck you by overstimulating himself.
after the absolute chaos he just put himself through, he just slumps back while gasping for air. his chest is heaving, looking like a total wreck.
he grabs a tissue to wipe off his hand and reaches back for his phone with the other.
his dick is still twitching and feeling way too sensitive, but the brain fog has finally cleared just enough for him to actually think straight.
this time, he just types it out, straight to the point.
choso: i’m coming over. send me the address.
when you received the message, you actually laughed, sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest.
he was so easy.
but then you looked at the corner of your laptop screen and saw the time and shit. your sociology project, the one you hadn’t even started the bibliography for, and it was due at 8:00 am.
you: you can come over, but i have a deadline tomorrow and i’m behind. you have to sit there and be a good boy until i’m done. then you can have your reward.
you: [address]
choso: i’ll be there in an hour.
he was actually there in less than 30 minutes.
when you opened the door, he looked like he’d run a marathon but also like he’d just seen a ghost. his hair was even messier than usual, and he was wearing a hoodie that probably cost more than your rent, though you’d never know it by the way he was hunched over.
“hey,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, still in your oversized t-shirt and nothing else.
choso’s eyes went wide. his gaze dropped straight to your legs, then darted away like he’d been burned. “hi. i... i’m early. sorry.”
“it’s fine. come in.”
he stepped into your small apartment and immediately looked out of place.
he stood in the middle of the rug, looking at your plastic electric kettle and the pile of laundry on the armchair. you remembered your friend saying his family was loaded, and it showed.
he looked like he’d never seen a space that didn’t have a minimalist aesthetic or a maid service.
“you can sit on the bed,” you told him, pointing to the unmade mattress. “just... don’t touch anything yet. i really have to finish this.”
he sat down stiff as a board, hands on his knees. he looked like a lost cat, honestly.
just sitting there, staring at the wall, trying not to look at you while you hunkered down at your desk. his eyes kept flickering toward you in the process, then back to his shoes.
after twenty minutes of you staring at a blank document and typing the same sentence three times, you groaned and rubbed your face.
that’s when you looked back at him and found him still just... sitting there.
waiting..
“come here,” you said, waving him over. “sit with me. maybe if you’re watching, i’ll feel pressured enough to actually type something.”
he got up so fast he almost tripped, dragging a spare chair over to your desk. he sat close enough and you could see his eyes scanning your screen, his brow furrowing as he read your intro about social stratification.
“you’re... you’re using the wrong citation format for that journal,” he muttered.
“what? no, i’m not. it’s apa.”
“no,” he said, leaning over you to grab the mouse, slightly brushing your arm with his. “for this specific database, you need to include the doi suffix or it’ll get flagged. and your thesis statement is too broad. you’re trying to prove three different things at once.”
you actually blinked at him. impressed. “are you... are you nerding out on my sociology paper right now?”
choso’s face went red again, but he didn’t pull back. “i just... i don’t like seeing things done wrong. it’s a waste of data.” he looked at you with his intense, dark eyes. “if i help you fix the structure, will you finish faster?”
“probably.”
“o-okay… move over, please,” he said, taking the laptop from your lap and putting it on the desk.
you watched him, totally mesmerized, as he started typing.
he wasn’t even looking at the keyboard while he was fixing it. deleting your fluff, tightening the logic, and pulling sources from his head like it was nothing.
he looked so focused, so in his element, that you actually felt yourself getting even wetter just watching his side profile.
he was being so helpful, so sweet, but his jaw was still clenched like he was fighting for his life. that’s when you looked down and noticed he still had that huge bulge in his pants.
he was literally writing your essay for you while his dick was throbbing for attention.
you reached out and rested your hand on his thigh, right next to the bulge. it made him jump, as if electrified, and a typo appeared on the screen, but he didn’t stop you.
“choso?” you whispered.
“please, don’t,” he choked out while his eyes were still fixed on the screen, typing even faster now. “i’m almost... almost through the second paragraph. just let me... let me finish.”
he was so determined to be useful that he was literally ignoring his own hard-on. it was the most pathetic and attractive thing you’d ever seen.
it took him exactly thirty-four minutes to rebuild your entire argument like he was playing a video game. he hit ‘save’ and let out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it since he walked through the door.
“there,” he muttered lowly. “the citations are indexed and the logic flows better. you’re... you’re done.”
you hummed a sensual tone and just reached over, snapping the laptop shut, and tossed it onto the pile of laundry on your bed.
the look of pure confusion on his face was peak comedy, and to fill in the awkwardness he’s feeling, he started to say something but you didn’t give him the chance.
you grabbed his hoodie, pulling him closer, and then you just climbed and straddled his lap, resting your knees on either side of his hips.
the second you sat down, you felt his rock hard dick poking right into your clothed pussy. the contact made him let out this choked, pathetic little noise as his hands hover in the air like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you yet.
“you’re so fast, choso,” you whispered, leaning in until your noses brushed. “i think you deserve that reward now.”
his eyes widened when you crashed your lips against his, giving him a deep, messy french kiss.
he was stiff at first, barely moving his mouth because he was probably overthinking the physics of it. he tasted like mint and caffeine, and he was shaking under you.
he didn’t know how to kiss and somehow, that’s such a fucking turn out for you.
you tilted your head, moaning into his mouth as you swiped your tongue against his, showing him how it’s done.
in response to that, you felt his hands finally drop into your waist, gripping each side hard— a way for him to express his frustration and restraint.
he tried to mirror you desperately with his clumsy tongue, hitting your teeth once before he figured out how to actually move.
he was such a fast learner that within seconds, he was kissing you back almost as hungry, pushing his tongue into your mouth like he wanted to taste every part of you.
you ground your hips down against him, feeling him harden and stand up even harder against you.
then, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.
“i... wait– i didn’t think…” he panted with blown out eyes. “i’ve thought about this so much, but it’s... it’s different. you’re so warm.”
“it’s better than a photo, isn’t it?” you teased, nipping at his lower lip.
he just nodded, tightening his grip on your waist until it almost hurt. “you taste good,” he rasped. “please. don’t get off yet.”
he looked so vulnerable and so completely wrecked that you just smiled.
you leaned back, pulling your shirt over your head and dropping it on the floor, watching his brain literally reboot as he looked at you in person.
“i’m not going anywhere, choso. we still have all night.”
once your shirt hit the floor, choso was all over you.
there were no seconds wasted. because he was finally living out the months of his fantasies built in the back of that lecture hall, and he was devouring you like he was starving.
as if it’s his primary agenda, his hands went up and cupped your boobs and squeezed them desperately. this was something he’d imagined doing while desperately stroking his own cock and now that he is doing it for real, he realized that this shit is even a thousand times better than that fantasy.
he buried his face in your neck inhaling your scent before his mouth found your collarbone, nipping at the skin until he left a dark mark.
then he moved down, swiping his tongue over your nipples, swirling around the tips until they were hard and sensitive. the sensation sent this electric tingle straight to your crotch, making you writhe against him.
“can i…” he pulled back for a split second, showing you his flushed face while his breath is hitching as he looked down at your lap. “can i touch it? your pussy... i want to-”
you didn’t even answer with words, instead you just grabbed his hand and guided it down.
the second his fingers hit the soaked fabric of your panties, he let out a low groan and started rubbing you through the fabric, his thumb finding your clit with a surprisingly decent amount of aim.
it felt so good. unlike when you touch yourself by the thought of his smart ass, your body is surprisingly reacting (in a good way) to his touches.
his tumb just rubbing you in this position might make you cum in no time, and you don’t even usually climax this fast when you masturbate which is crazy.
it wasn’t enough, though. you were both too cramped at the desk, and you could feel his dick straining so hard against your thigh. he seemed to realize it too so he broke the kiss, stood up while literally lifting you by the thighs, and carried you the three steps to the bed.
he laid you down on the messy sheets, and for a second, he just stood there, staring.
he reached down and hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs and politely placed them at the sides, when he could’ve just thrown them somewhere.
the way he looked at your pussy was almost embarrassing. he was so obvious about his lust, his eyes wide and roaming over your folds giving him away. it was like a reflex when he dropped to his knees and buried his face right in it.
it was a little clumsy at first, honestly.
you could tell he was trying to remember things he’d seen on porn sites by the way he flicked his tongue and the way he tried to use his fingers to spread you open, but his enthusiasm made up for the lack of experience.
he was tasting you by darting his tongue out to lick your clit in short, quick strokes that had you arching your back and clutching the pillows.
“ah! fuck, choso,” you whined, your fingers tangling in his messy hair.
he started fingering you, sliding two fingers inside while he kept his mouth busy on your clit.
he was being so careful, so focused on the feedback your body was giving him, like he was debugging a piece of code until he found the exact sequence that made you scream.
you felt every slide of his fingers and every wet lap of his tongue. his fingers were so long that it was reaching deeper than your own, and he was stretching you out real good with three fingers that he’s thrusting and curling at the same time.
even though the stretching part was a bit painful, he compensated for it by running his tongue on your clit, stroking it fast and constantly kissing and nipping it.
it was that perfect mix of first-time nerves and raw, unfiltered horniness.
he was so into it, so obsessed with every inch of you, that you could feel your own climax building behind your ribs, ready to snap.
the pressure in your lower stomach was getting to that point of no return. you were arching off the bed as choso’s tongue kept flicking over your clit, adding the fact that his fingers were buried deep inside you, stretching you out.
“choso— stop, i’m gonna... i’m about to cum,” you gasped out as you tried to catch your breath.
he didn’t stop entirely, but he pulled his fingers out. he kept his mouth right there, though, his thumb took over to rub circles around your clit while he looked up at you from between your legs.
his face was a total mess. but he looked even better now because he’s damp with your juices while his dark hair falls into his eyes.
“you’re so beautiful," he whispered, sounding out of it. “cum for me. i want to see you do it. please.”
he sounded so shy but so desperate at the same time.
you hadn’t even noticed that while he was eating you out, he’d managed to kick his own pants off and was stroking own dick with his free hand.
looking down, you thought— god, he was huge.
he was stroking himself in this fast motion that his veins were popping as he watched you come apart.
“ah— fuck, choso! ah!” you shrieked, stuttering your hips as the first wave of the orgasm hit you. your pussy started clamping down on nothing while your clit was being massaged and overstimulated by choso.
“don’t stop,” you choked out, reaching down to grab his hand, the one wrapped around his dick. “put it in. choso, put it in now.”
he didn’t need to be told twice.
he scrambled up, crawling over you, and pining your thighs wide with his knees. he guided the head of his dick to your entrance, which was still twitching and soaking wet from your climax.
when he finally pushed in, you let out a long moan. fuck!
“nghh—fuck!”
he was so much bigger than his fingers. you felt him stretching your walls to the absolute limit, filling every empty space inside you.
because you were right in the middle of your orgasm, the sensation was ten times more intense that every nerve ending in your pussy was firing at once, screaming as his hot, hard cock slid against your sensitive walls.
“you’re so… tight,” choso groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he buried himself inside you to the hilt. “fuck, you’re... you’re squeezing me so hard. ah... fuck.”
he stayed still for a second, just letting you clench around him while you finished cumming.
it felt like your insides were vibrating against him and you could feel the pulse of his dick inside you, matching the frantic beat of your own heart.
the friction was insane because it wasn’t just ‘good’, it was overwhelming, and it made you feel like you were being split open in the best way possible.
and you fucking know that if that is how it is making you feel, it means you’re going to get dicked down in the best way possible.
you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to feel him against your pelvis.
“don’t just stand there, nerd,” you teased through a shaky breath. “fuck me and finish what you started.”
choso looked like he was about to overheat. he was panting so hard that he paused for a second while his dick was still buried deep inside you, and grabbed the hem of his hoodie.
“fuck, it’s too hot,” he grunted, pulling the fabric over his head and tossed it somewhere on the floor.
your jaw practically dropped.
you’d spent all semester seeing him in oversized sweaters, but underneath that nerdy exterior, choso was hiding a literal sleeper build.
his chest was broad and flushed, and when he leaned forward, you could see his defined abs when he braced his weight on his elbows.
the sight of him shirtless, looking all lean and powerful while his thick dick was still plugging you up, made your pussy twitch in a fresh wave of anticipation.
you couldn’t help it, so you unintentionally squeezed your internal muscles around him, clamping down hard.
“ah—fuck,” choso groaned as you milked him. “don’t do that yet. i’m trying to... i’m trying to keep it together.”
he finally started to move. starting with these slow, deliberate thrusts, just feeling your walls squeeze him.
it was a total sensory overload.
because he was so thick, you could feel the ridge of his head rubbing against your g-spot with every slide out, even his size was stretching you wider when he bottomed out.
“you feel... nghh... you feel so fucking good,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
his gaze was locked onto your breasts, watching them bounce and jiggle with every shove of his hips. the sight seemed to make him lose whatever restraint he had left. picking up his pace, turning the slow slides into greedy slams.
his thrusts were getting faster, less calculated and more animalistic, like he was trying to bury himself even deeper inside you.
“choso—ah, ah!” you moaned, tossing your head back against the pillows.
he was so rough now that the sound of your skin slapping against his was loud and echoing in the small room.
“you feel so good… ah.” he managed to choke out.
he was making these low, guttural sounds in the back of his throat, while his dick devoured how wet you were, feeling your walls pulse around his dick like you’re trying to suck him dry.
the sensation was so intense he looked like he was in actual pain, his jaw locked tight and his veins standing out in his neck.
“i can’t... i can’t get enough,” he gasped, grinding his hips faster now. “you’re so wet. it’s so tight. fuck!”
he was hitting your cervix now, bottoming out with a force that had you seeing stars.
he was a total animal, sliding his hands from your ass to your waist, digging his fingers into your hips to keep you pinned while he absolutely railed you.
you’d think that’s the end of it, but then he leaned over you and pressed his flat palm firmly against your lower stomach, right above your pubic bone.
he started pushing down with every thrust, using the extra leverage to bury his dick even deeper into you.
“fuck, you’re so—ah—you’re so soft,” he wheezed.
every time he slammed balls deep in you, his length was hitting your g-spot. the pressure from his palm on the outside combined with the friction of his dick on the inside made you feel like you were being folded in half in the best way possible and it left you moaning like an animal against the pillows.
“choso—oh god—right there! nghh!”
your pussy was a total wreck. it was stretched wide, your pink walls struggling to hold onto the thickness of him as he pumped in and out.
you could see the way your skin was pulling with every pull out, allowing you to see his dick coated with a mix of your juices and his pre-cum, before he’d shove back in with a squelching sound.
the sensation was starting to get electric, and the tingly feeling building up in your clit felt like you were going to explode.
and the way you could feel his dick pulsing inside you, getting even harder and thicker if that was even possible– is not helping you hold back at all.
“i’m—i’m gonna…” choso’s voice broke into a high, desperate whine.
his thrusts turned into short, violent stabs while his hand remained pressing on your stomach so hard.
“cum for me, choso! fuck!”
that was the breaking point.
your entire body went rigid, your toes curling as a massive wave of pleasure crashed over you.
you felt this sudden, hot pressure build up until you were literally squirting, fluid drenching his thighs with your squirting fluid and the sheets as you screamed his name.
choso let out a long moan, his eyes blown wide but didn’t stay inside.
right as he started to blow, he yanked his dick out and continued by stroking himself frantically for three more seconds before he erupted, thick ropes of cum all over your stomach and your chest.
“fuck... fuck,” he gasped, feeling his knees finally give out.
he collapsed on top of you and buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling his heart hammer against your ribs. T
he room smelled like sex and for a long time, the only sound was the two of you trying to remember how to breathe.
he shifted slightly, his nose brushing against your skin. “did... did i do that right?” he mumbled, sounding like the shy nerd again for a split second.
you just laughed, still breathless and exhausted, and tangled your fingers in his hair. “yeah, choso. i’d say your technical skills are pretty good.”
"if i headshot you three times this game, you send a dick pic."
naoya zenin x f!reader
• genre: smut, streamer au, enemies-to-lovers
• content warning: mdni, explicit sexual content, heavy profanity & aggressive/vulgar insults, degradation (kink), rough/aggressive sex, power play, public humiliation
wc: 10, 758 (ao3 link here)
this is a highly explicit work of fiction. reader discretion is strongly advised.
for a chill girl like you, it’s too obsessive to be watching naoya zenin’s stream on your second screen right now, all while you’re timing your queue with him for the past hour.
his face cam showed the usual look of pure, unadulterated arrogance, his dyed hair messy, and a headset resting over his ears, the other pair of it slid backwards from his ear, showing his piercings there.
he was of course, in the middle of a fucking rant, leaning into his mic to insult a viewer who had the audacity to donate five dollars just to ask for gameplay tips.
“tips? you want tips from me?” naoya scoffed. “here’s a tip: sell your pc and buy a soul, you fucking loser. don’t ever talk to me like we’re on the same level just because you dropped a fiver.”
the chat was moving at light speed. half of them were simping for his degradation, and the other half were spamming ‘lmao’ or ‘classic naoya.’ he didn’t give a shit and just refreshed his queue.
you’ve been trying to snipe his lobby because you hated this prick. he was talented at valorant, sure, but his personality was a literal biohazard. that made you want to see him lose his mind on stream, and you were petty enough to stay up all night to make it happen.
match found.
the map was bind and you checked the scoreboard immediately.
there he was: ‘zenin_nao’ playing jett, because of course he was.
you picked chamber to counter then cracked your knuckles.
“oh, look at this,” naoya muttered on stream, squinting at the screen. “another fanboy in my lobby. ‘guest_01’? what a pathetic fucking name. hope you’re ready to get carried or get flamed, i’m not in the mood for dead weight.”
the game loaded in, and before the barriers even dropped, you hit shift+enter.
all [guest_01]: sup, princess. try not to cry on stream when you lose k?
naoya paused, his character frozen for a second as he read it. then he let out a mocking laugh. “this nobody really has balls. you hear this shit?” he said to his chat, his eyes widening. “humble me? you couldn’t humble me if i played with one hand tied behind my back, you little shit.”
you weren’t done. you knew exactly how to get under the skin of a guy whose ego was his only personality trait.
all [guest_01]: lets make it interesting then.
all [guest_01]: if i headshot you three times this game, you send a dick pic.
the chat erupted.
the scrolling text became a literal series of ‘OH SHIT’, ‘WTF’, and ‘CLIP IT’. naoya’s face went from smug to a shade of insulted red in record time. he leaned so close to the camera to the point that his nose was almost touching it.
“you fucking what?” he hissed, voice dropping. “you think you’re funny? i’ll fucking hunt you down. i’m going to make sure you uninstall this game by the time we hit round twelve. you’re dead, you hear me? you’re fucking dead.”
the barriers dropped.
naoya played like a demon, fueled by pure spite. he dashed into a-short, looking for an early pick, but you were holding a tight angle with a headhunter.
you didn’t panic one bit, his degradations are nothing on you, he can’t possibly kill you with trash talking you like that.
you waited for that silver hair to peek.
crack.
the kill feed showed your name and a golden crosshair next to his.
all [guest_01]: 1/3.
“fuck!” naoya slammed his desk and the sound echoed through his shitty mic. “that was luck! he was holding a pixel, what a fucking rat! stay in your hole, you coward!”
even now, he addresses you as ‘he’. just imagine his fucking reaction when he learns you’re a girl who’s clapping his ass.
his chat was losing it, mocking him, which only made him tilt harder.
by round five, he was playing sloppy, overpeeking everything because he was desperate to kill you and tea bag your corpse.
you caught him again on a mid rotation. he tried to updraft over a smoke, and you clipped his head mid-air with a vandal.
all [guest_01]: 2/3. hope you’re picking a good filter, nao-chan.
naoya was vibrating with rage now. he wasn’t even calling out for his team anymore. instead, he was busy cursing at his monitor while his face contorted. “i’m going to ruin you! i’ll find out who you are and i’ll fucking end you! shut up! chat, shut the fuck up before i ban every single one of you!”
the game went on and your team was winning, mostly because naoya was throwing his life away just to find you. what a pathetic loser.
this time, naoya was tucked in a corner on b-site, waiting. you knew he was there. so you threw a trademark to slow him, then swung wide. he fired and missed by an inch, giving you the opportunity to click.
headshot.
naoya’s face on your second monitor was a deep, humiliated shade of red, his veins were practically popping out of his neck as he glared at the screen. he had just been revived by his sage, only for you to instantly dome him again from across the map with a guardian.
“fuck! are you kidding me with this shit?” he screamed, slamming his fist onto his desk so hard his webcam shook. “he’s cheating! he’s definitely fucking cheating! nobody hits those shots on a moving target, i don’t care who you are!”
the chat was a dumpster fire. they were tagging him, laughing at him, and clip chiming every single death.
naoya was usually the one doing the bullying, so seeing him get systematically dismantled by a ‘random’ (worse, is a girl) was high-tier entertainment for his miserable followers.
you leaned into your keyboard as your smirk widened. the ‘dick pic’ threat had already turned him into a stuttering mess, but you wanted to see him actually break.
all [guest_01]: you’re playing like a boosted silver, nao.
all [guest_01]: new deal since you’re so easy to hit.
all [guest_01]: if i headshot you one more time this half, the pic isn’t enough. you’re gonna have to go on cam and masturbate for me.
the stream went dead silent for a second. naoya stared at the chat box with his mouth hanging open. he looked genuinely stunned, feeling his ego finally hit a wall. then, the chat exploded into a literal wall of ‘???’ and ‘NO WAY’ and ‘DO IT’.
“you... you sick fucking freak,” naoya spat with his trembling voice. “you think i’m some cam girl? you think you can talk to me like that? i’m naoya zenin! i'll have your fucking ip tracked before the next round starts!”
but he didn’t leave the game. he was too prideful to forfeit, and too obsessed with proving he was better than you.
round nine.
bind, defense side.
naoya was playing u-hall, holding the angle with an operator, his hands were visibly shaking on the mouse.
he was terrified that every time he peeked, he was thinking about your threat. he was tilted out of his mind, overthinking every micro movement.
you didn’t even use a real gun now. you pulled out the sheriff and jiggled the corner, baiting out his op shot.
thump.
he missed and the bullet hit the wall behind you.
“fuck! fuck! fuck!” he yelled, frantically trying to cycle his bolt.
you swung wide and you immediately saw his silver haired jett frantically trying to pull out a pistol. you took a breath, lined up the crosshair with his forehead, and clicked.
pop.
all [guest_01]: 4/3.
all [guest_01]: hope you’ve got the lotion ready, princess. i’m waiting.
naoya didn’t scream this time. he just slumped back in his expensive gaming chair, staring at the ‘killed by’ screen with a look of pure, hollowed out defeat. his chat was filled with ‘CAM ON’ and ‘PAY UP’.
he leaned forward on his face cam and his eyes dark and narrowed. “you think you won? you think you can just embarrass me like this and walk away?” he hissed. “i’m going to find out who you are. and when i do, i’m going to make you regret every single word you typed in that fucking box.”
he didn’t end the stream immediately. he just sat there, breathing hard, looking like he was debating whether to actually follow through or just smash his monitor into pieces.
all [guest_01]: stop barking and start working that hand, nao-chan. everyone’s waiting.
he let out a jagged, frustrated breath and finally ripped his headset off, throwing it against the wall.
the stream cut to a ‘technical difficulties’ screen, but you knew you had burrowed deep under his skin.
the next evening, you were just lounging in the main menu while your agent was standing idle.
you were scrolling on your phone when suddenly, the notification chime hit.
friend request: zenin_nao
the sight of his username made you wheeze.
the prick actually did it. he probably spent all night scrubbing through the match history and seething.
you clicked accept, and not even three seconds later, the party invite popped up. of course, you joined and the second your icon appeared in his lobby, his voice cracked through the headset.
although he sounded harsh, he was obviously incredibly stressed.
“you. guest_01. you better have a fucking mic,” naoya snapped. his voice sounded like he hadn’t slept a wink.
you keyed your mic, leaning back with a grin. “keep your pants on, nao-chan. i’m here.”
there was a deafening silence.
you could almost hear his brain short-circuiting through the fiber optics.
naoya, the guy who spent his entire career preaching about how women were ‘naturally inferior’ at everything from breathing to gaming, just realized he got clapped by a girl.
“fuck... you’re a girl?” he stuttered. “you’re kidding me, no fucking way. you’re using a voice changer. there’s no way some bitch hit those shots. you were cheating… you had to be.”
“cry harder,” you laughed, the sound loud and clear. “i clapped you on stream in front of thirty thousand people. you lost the bet. so, are we doing this, or are you a bigger coward than i thought?”
“shut the fuck up!” he yelled, though you can feel his embarrassment have doubled now. “listen to me. i’m not— i’m not doing that shit on cam. do you have any idea what that would do to my family name?”
“not my problem,” you countered. “you talked all that trash, called me a ‘nobody’, and you said you’d ruin me. turns out you’re the one getting ruined by a ‘nobody’. pay up, zenin.”
you heard him pacing. the rustle of his clothes, the heavy, frustrated sighs. he sounded like a cornered animal.
“look,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, desperate mumble. “let’s... let’s negotiate. i’ll give you skins. i’ll give you whatever fucking radiant points or gift cards you want. i’ll even duo with you and carry your ass to immortal. just... drop the bet. tell my chat it was a scripted bit or something.”
“carry me?” you snorted.
this guy is a fucking loser, indeed!
“nao, i carried you in that lobby. your aim is shaky and dogshit. why would i want to duo with a loser?”
“i’m not a loser!” he barked, slamming something, probably his desk again. “i’m the best player on this fucking server! you just got lucky! fine, you want something else? money? i have more money than you’ll ever see in your pathetic life. name a price to shut your mouth.”
you let out a low, amused laugh, leaning back in your chair as you listened to the frantic tapping of his fingers against a desk.
“money is boring, naoya. i want you to actually stick to your word for once in your pathetic life. you lost. and now the whole internet is waiting to see if the great naoya zenin is a liar or a man of his word.”
“i’m not a fucking liar!” he exploded. “but i’m not doing it on stream! do you have any idea how many people are watching? if i do that shit on cam, it’s over. my career, my family name, everything— gone because of some bratty girl who got lucky with a vandal.”
he paused, and you could hear him taking a shaky, sharp breath.
he sounded like he was pacing his room, cornered and frantic.
“look,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a cautious tone. “i’ll... i’ll do it. but not over the internet. i’m not giving you a recording you can blackmail me with for the rest of my life. i’m not that fucking stupid.”
your eyebrows shot up. “oh? you’re suggesting a meetup? that’s bold for a guy who just got his ego trashed.”
“shut up,” he snapped. “i have a private suite in the city. it’s safe there. no cameras, no recording devices. you come there, i do what you want, and then we never speak again. you delete the chat logs, you tell your friends it was a joke, and we’re done.”
you couldn’t help but laugh. “a private suite? naoya, do i look stupid? how do i know you’re not just planning to have me kidnapped or some shit to save your reputation? you’re a prick, i wouldn’t put it past you.”
the silence on the other end lasted for a few seconds before he let out a insulted scoff.
“kidnapped? you think i’m some low life criminal? i’m a zenin. i have more pride in my pinky finger than you have in your entire body. if i wanted you gone, i’d have bought your house and turned it into a parking lot by now.”
he sounded genuinely offended, his elitist pride flaring up.
“i don’t need to kidnap a girl to win an argument. i’m giving you my word because i’m a man who doesn’t owe anyone shit, especially not a coward who’s scared to meet me face-to-face. i’ll send you the address and the keycode. you show up, or you admit you’re just a loud mouthed bitch who’s too scared to collect her prize.”
you could practically hear the smug, challenging smirk returning to his face.
he was backed into a corner, but he was still trying to find a way to make it look like he was the one in control.
“fine,” you said. “send the address.”
the address was for a high-rise penthouse indeed.
you rode the elevator up in silence and when the doors dinged open, you walked straight to the suite number he’d sent.
you didn’t even knock, you just punched in the code and you’re in.
the place was spacious and clean.
filled with expensive furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, and naoya standing by a white marble kitchen island.
he was wearing a designer sweater, looking like he was posing for a magazine cover, but his knuckles were white where he was gripping the edge of the counter.
he turned around, ready to spit out some elitist insult about how ‘ugly’ or ‘pathetic’ you probably were, but the words died in his throat.
his eyes traveled from your boots up to your face, and his smug expression didn’t just fade, it transformed into an obvious wide-eyed bafflement.
“you…” he trailed off, his jaw tightening.
he clearly expected a stereotypical girl he could bully in person.
but instead, he was looking at someone who looked like they actually had a life outside of a discord server.
“you’re guest_01? no fucking way.”
“what? disappointed i don’t have a neckbeard, princess?” you smirked, tossing your bag onto his overpriced sofa.
you didn’t give him a second to recover. “i’m not here to small talk. i’ve got things to do. strip. now.”
naoya flinched. “don’t— don’t talk to me like that! you think you can just walk into my house and start ordering me around?”
“the bet was the bet, naoya. you lost. your pride is already in the trash, don’t make me wait.”
he went to open his mouth, but a sharp knock at the door interrupted him.
when it opened, one of his helpers, a guy in a suit who looked more like a bodyguard, stepped in.
naoya cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of authority.
“your phone, please,” the guy said, holding out a hand toward you.
“and any recording devices,” naoya added. “he’s going to take your electronics to the other room. if you want this to happen, you play by my rules. i’m not having a single pixel of this recorded.”
you rolled your eyes, pulling your phone and your smartwatch off and dropping them into the guy’s hand.
as the door closed and the bodyguard left with your stuff, you turned back to naoya and let out a mocking laugh.
“are you fucking serious right now?” you stepped closer, watching him instinctively take a half-step back. “a bodyguard, naoya? really? you’re such a fucking baby. you’re so terrified of a girl that you need a grown man to hold my phone for you? god, you’re even more pathetic in person than you are on stream.”
naoya’s eyes flashed with pure, unadulterated rage. “i’m being careful! i’m not taking any chances with my reputation.”
“your reputation is already ‘guy who got gapped by a girl’,” you countered, crossing your arms. “now stop stalling and get those clothes off. or do i need to call your guard back in to help you unzip your pants since you’re clearly too shaking to do it yourself?”
his teeth literally grinded together.
he reached for the hem of his sweater, his fingers twitching. “i’m going to make you regret this,” he hissed, though the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes told a completely different story.
you walked over to a leather armchair positioned perfectly opposite the island and dropped into it, crossing your legs. you leaned your chin on your hand, watching him strip his clothes for you.
“well?” you prompted. “i’m waiting, nao-chan. clocks ticking.”
naoya let out a frustrated snarl, his fingers trembling as he gripped the hem of his designer sweater and yanked it over his head.
his hair was a mess, falling over his eyes as he tossed the garment onto the marble floor.
you had to admit, the prick was built.
he wasn’t just some skinny gamer who lived on energy drinks; his chest was lean but defined, with pale, smooth skin and sharp collarbones.
his abs were tight, a clear v-line disappearing into the waistband of his expensive trousers.
he looked like a goddamn model, and the realization that he actually took care of himself made the humiliation of the situation ten times more potent.
“stop... stop staring at me like that,” he hissed, his voice cracking as he reached for his belt.
he stepped out of his pants, leaving him in just his boxers.
he was stalling, his face a deep, bruised red, but he couldn’t fill your silence with his usual trash talk. he eventually hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers and pushed them down, kicking them away with a jerky, humiliated movement.
your breath hitched in your throat, and for the first time since you entered the room, the smug comment you had ready upon seeing his dick died on your tongue.
the guy was fucking massive.
even when soft, he was heavy and thick, hanging with a weight that felt completely at odds with his lean, lithe frame.
as he stood there, completely exposed and shivering from the vulnerability, you felt a sudden, traitorous throb between your own thighs.
you can’t believe you’re actually wetting yourself from the mere sight of his private part.
you had come here to ruin him, to laugh at him, but looking at him like this; packing like a monster, made you feel on edge too.
“you’re... you’re a freak,” naoya muttered, though his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your gaze.
he was shaking, obviously because his pride was at war with the biological reality of being naked in front of a girl who had just spent the last forty-eight hours destroying his ego.
you shifted in the chair, feeling the wetness of your own underwear, your heart hammering against your ribs.
“you talk a lot of shit for someone who looks like that, naoya,” you said, your voice a little huskier than you intended. “are you just going to stand there and let me admire the view, or are you going to start?”
he finally looked up, his golden-brown eyes narrowed and wet with frustrated tears, his chest heaving. “i hate you,” he whispered, his hand finally reaching down to wrap around himself.
his fingers could barely even close around the girth of it. “i fucking hate you so much.”
“good,” you breathed, leaning forward, your eyes fixed on his hand. “now show me what those hands can do, princess.”
naoya’s hand finally closed around himself. it was fucking absurd, his body was lean and wiry, built like an athlete, but between his legs, he was carrying a monster.
the head was already peeking out, pink and thick, and as he started to move his hand in a slow stroke, the skin stretched tight over the shaft, revealing the pulsing veins that made your own pussy throb in sync with his heartbeat.
“look at you,” you purred, leaning so far forward in the chair that you could smell the expensive cologne still clinging to his bare skin. “you’re shaking, nao-chan. is the big, bad streamer scared of a little audience? or is it just because you know how much of a pathetic slut you look like right now, naked and jerking off because a girl told you to?”
“shut the fuck up,” he hissed, his voice dropping into a strained rasp.
he was starting to get hard, and as he did, the size of him became even more terrifying.
his dick was lengthening, thickening until it the tip was weeping a bead of pre-cum.
“i’m only doing this so you’ll leave me the fuck alone. don’t— fuck— don’t think this means anything.”
“it means everything,” you countered, your hand sliding down between your own thighs, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties.
you were fucking dripping while watching his dick slide in and out of his grip, seeing the way his abs rippled with every strained breath, was making you lose your goddamn mind.
“it means you’re my bitch. every time you go live from now on, every time you talk shit to some kid in chat, you’re gonna remember sitting here like a dog, tossing your own salad for me.”
naoya’s eyes snapped to yours, full of pure, concentrated hatred, but his body was betraying him.
his strokes were getting faster, more desperate. the slapping sound of his palm hitting his own thighs was loud and echoing in the room.
he was fully erect now, making his dick look like it would split you in half if he ever got his hands on you.
the sight of it made a fresh wave of wetness burst from your pussy, soaking your seat.
fuck.
“you like it, don't you?” he suddenly spat.
he defininitely saw the way your eyes were glued to his cock, and they way you keep shifting in your seat.
“you’re fucking soaking wet just looking at me. you’re probably just some lonely bitch who sniped my game because you wanted a piece of this, didn’t you? you’re pathetic.”
“maybe,” you whispered, not even bothering to deny it as you watched him pump that massive dick, his thumb rubbing over the head. “but at the end of the day, i’m the one sitting in the chair, and you’re the one performing like a circus animal. keep going, princess. i want to see you blow that load all over your expensive floor. i want to see how much of a mess a prick like you makes.”
naoya let out a choked, broken sound, his head tossing back as his pace became faster.
he was close, his entire body tensing up, muscles popping in his arms and chest as he neared the edge, his cock twitching violently in his hand.
naoya was losing his fucking mind.
he was flushed from his chest up to his ears, a mess of sweat and pure, raw humiliation. every time his palm slapped against the base of his throbbing cock, he’d let out a little grunt that he tried to swallow down.
you didn’t stay in the chair as well. you can’t…
you wanted to make him feel shit as much as you can, to make sure he understands that you were the one totally in control right now… and that he’s just your little bitch with a show right now.
you stood up slowly and walked over to him until you were standing right in his personal space.
the smell of his pre-cum hit you immediately.
“you’re losing steam, princess,” you whispered, circling him. “honestly, this is getting a little boring. i thought the great naoya zenin would be a lot more into this. are you not horny enough? or is your dick just too big for your tiny ego to handle?”
“shut— fuck— shut up,” he gasped, his eyes blown out and hazy as he stared at your waist. “i’m... i’m almost…”
“almost isn’t good enough,” you interrupted, stepping directly in front of him. “do i really have to do everything for you? do i have to actually put in effort to get this pathetic little streamer in the mood?”
you reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt, the one he’d discarded earlier, and tossed it aside, then leaned in.
you pressed your chest right against his face.
and he immediately realized that you weren’t wearing a bra, and the soft weight of your breasts smothered his mouth and nose, burying him in your scent.
naoya made a muffled, strangled sound against your skin, his hands pausing on his dick for a split second before he absolutely lost it.
you shoved his face deeper into your cleavage, allowing his nose to brush against the underside of your tits as he let out a long, shaky moan.
“there we go,” you cooed, your hands reaching down to cup the back of his head, forcing him even deeper into your chest. “is that better, nao-chan? feel how wet i am for you? it’s almost a waste to let all that go to the floor, isn’t it?”
the contact turned him into an animal.
his grip on his cock became frantic as he buried his face in your tits like a starving man, turning his muffled moans into desperate, shaky whimpers.
“that’s it,” you hissed, feeling your own pussy clench and leak another wave of juice down your legs as he nuzzled frantically between your breasts. “show me what a pathetic, needy dog you are. cum for me, naoya. blow it all over yourself while you hide your face like a coward.”
he couldn’t hold back anymore.
with one final, deep groan, his body went rigid.
he slammed his hand down the length of his cock one last time, and a thick, hot jet of cum erupted from the tip, hitting his own stomach and the floor.
he kept shooting, ropes of white splattering everywhere as his massive dick convulsed wildly in his hand.
he stayed buried in your breasts long after he finished, his breath hot and shaky against your skin, his body trembling as the post-nut clarity and the crushing weight of his own humiliation finally started to sink in.
you stood there for a moment, just feeling his breath against your skin as he slumped against you, completely spent.
his dick was still twitching in his hand, while he kept his face buried between your tits like he was trying to hide from the reality of what just happened.
you let out a mocking laugh and reached down, running your fingers through his messy hair, tugging just enough to force him to look up at you.
his face was a disaster; flushed, eyes glassy and blown out, and his lips parted as he gasped for air.
“look at you,” you giggled. “such a good, obedient little boy. you did exactly what i told you to do, nao-chan.”
he tried to scowl, tried to find some remnant of that sharp-tongued prick he was on stream, but he couldn’t find the words.
he was too far gone. “i... i fucking hate you,” he managed to wheeze out, though his hands were still resting weakly on your hips, keeping you close.
“shhh,” you whispered, leaning down. “you’ve earned a little reward.”
you didn’t give him a choice.
you pressed your lips to his, and for a split second, he froze, his brain probably screaming at him to pull away.
but then his ego snapped. he let out a desperate moan into your mouth, then his hands went up to cup your face with a violent sort of need.
it wasn’t a sweet kiss. you wouldn’t call it sweet if you shoved your tongue into his mouth, right?
naoya met you head-on, his tongue fighting yours, twisting as he tried to reclaim some shred of dominance. he was devouring you, his fingers digging into your cheeks.
when you finally pulled back, a thin string of saliva connected your lips before breaking.
naoya looked absolutely wrecked, his chest heaving, his eyes darting to your mouth as his head instinctively leaned forward to chase you, begging for more without saying a word.
“stay,” you commanded, stepping back and watching his face fall. “and clean up your mess. i’m leaving.”
later that evening, you were curled up on your bed, scrolling through the clips of his ‘technical difficulties’ stream from the day before. the comments were still a war zone of people wondering if he’d actually followed through on the bet.
your phone buzzed on the nightstand.
a message from an unsaved number.
[unknown]: you’re a fucking witch. i don’t know what you did to me.
[unknown]: my dick is still hard. fuck.
you smiled.
because he was clearly obsessed.
the arrogant, untouchable naoya zenin was officially on a leash, and he was the one pulling on it.
[you]: ready for round two, princess? or do you need to buy more lotion first?
it’s been a few weeks since that night in the penthouse, and the internet is basically in a state of permanent cardiac arrest.
naoya’s stream schedule has completely changed and started revolving around yours.
he went from swearing he’d have you banned and erased from the face of the earth to being in your lobby every single fucking day.
what’s even funnier is that…
the first time he admitted it on stream, he looked like he wanted to swallow a grenade.
“yeah, it’s the same bitch,” he had spat at his chat, his face turning that familiar shade of red. “she’s annoying as hell, but she’s the only one in this game who can keep up with my utility. shut up about the bet, or i’m banning the next ten people who type ‘dick pic’.”
now, it’s just your routine.
not only you, in fact.
but his too.
you’re sitting at your desk, headset on, watching his face cam on your second monitor as you both queue for another match.
“buy me a vandal, nao,” you sweetly demanded with a breathy whisper.
“buy it yourself, you lazy brat,” naoya snaps, though he’s already clicking the buy button for you. “i’m top fragging. i shouldn’t be funding your shitty habits.”
the game starts, and you’re playing sage.
ironic, considering how much he hates being ‘subservient’.
so you’re now following his jett around, walling off his flanks and keeping his health topped off while he dashes around like a maniac.
“heal! heal me now!” he shot called as he ducks behind a crate with 12 hp.
“what’s the magic word, princess?” you tease, holding the orb just out of range. “you know the rules. every time i save your ass, you bark for me. come on, let me hear it.”
“i am not fucking barking on stream!” naoya yells. he looks at his camera, seeing the chat spamming dog emojis. “get away from me! i’d rather die and lose the round than give you the satisfaction, you psycho!”
“suit yourself,” you chuckle, watching his health bar blink red. “guess you’ll just have to watch me top frag instead.”
he lets out a frustrated sound, more like a half growl and half whimper and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a ‘woof’ under his breath just as you click the heal.
“good boy,” you purr.
the third teammate, a guy playing omen, finally chimes in.
he’s been quiet all game, but clearly, he’s heard enough.
“yo, sage... you’re actually hilarious. and your aim is cracked. you got a discord or something? i feel like we’d actually vibe way better than you and this loud mouthed clown.”
naoya’s character stops dead in its tracks.
on the cam, his eyes narrow into slits, and he leans so close to his mic.
“who the fuck are you talking to?” naoya hisses, his voice dropping, a sign when he’s about to lose it. “did i ask for your input, you bottom-fragging piece of shit? she’s with me. pay attention to the map and keep your fucking mouth shut while we carry your heavy ass.”
“chill, man,” the omen laughs, oblivious to the fact that naoya is actually vibrating with rage. “i’m just saying, she’s a vibe. hey, guest_01, you ever played with a guy who doesn’t scream every five seconds? i could show you a much better time.”
naoya’s face is a mask of pure, unadulterated jealousy.
he isn’t even looking at the game anymore; he’s glaring at the team chat. “get out,” he snaps. “hey! i said shut the fuck up! she’s mine! we’re in a duo for a reason, you desperate little rat! if you say one more word to her, i’ll find out where you live and personally make sure you never have internet access again!”
“jealous, nao-chan?” you ask mockingly. “he’s being much nicer to me than you’ve ever been.”
“i’m not jealous!” he screams at the monitor. “i just hate losers! and you— you don’t talk to anyone else! you’re my pocket sage, and if i catch you giving that omen a single drop of utility, i’m ending the stream!”
the chat is absolutely losing it.
‘HE’S OBSESSED’ and ‘JEALOUS NAOYA’ scrolling so fast in his stream chat.
he’s completely exposed himself, and the best part is, he’s too mad to even realize how much he’s admitting.
the game ended with naoya nearly popping a blood vessel, and ten minutes later, you were both in a private discord channel with him.
the green light next to his name flickered as he unmuted.
“you’re such a fucking headache,” he spat. “why didn’t you mute him? you just sat there and let that pathetic loser flirt with you. you probably liked it, didn’t you? getting attention from someone who doesn’t know what a massive pain in the ass you actually are.”
“oh, absolutely,” you hummed, leaning back and spinning in your chair. “he was sweet, naoya. he called me a ‘vibe’ and he complimented my aim. when was the last time you called me anything other than a ‘brat’ or a ‘psycho’? maybe i should’ve given him my discord. he sounded like he actually knows how to treat a girl.”
“don’t you fucking dare,” naoya hissed. “you’re not giving your discord to some bottom fragging nobody. you’re stuck with me.”
“you sound so insecure when you’re jealous, nao-chan. it’s cute,” you teased, enjoying the way he let out a frustrated breath. “it makes me wonder how you’re going to act next month. or did you not check your email yet?”
there was a pause, the sound of aggressive clicking filling the silence. “the valorant invitational expo?” he muttered, his voice shifting from angry to annoyed. “the one in the city? of course i’m invited. i’m the face of the regional server. wait…”
another pause. you could practically see the gears grinding in his head.
“don’t tell me,” he groaned. “don’t tell me they invited a random like you just because you sniped me on stream.”
“not a random, naoya. the top-ranked female player on the server,” you corrected him. “they want us there for a showmatch. they’re even putting our booths right next to each other. isn’t that sweet?”
“i’m going to kill someone,” naoya whispered, but he did not exactly sound angry. “two days of being stuck next to you? with cameras everywhere? with fans watching? i won’t be able to say half the shit i want to say to you.”
“is that right?” you laughed. “and what exactly is it that you want to say to me, naoya? or better yet, what do you want to ‘do’ to me? because the last time we were in a room together, you were the one with your face buried in my chest, crying like a baby while you came all over your floor.”
“i was not—! shut the fuck up!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “that was a one-time thing! a moment of weakness! if you bring that up at the expo, i will personally make sure you never see the light of day again!”
“hmm, we’ll see,” you said, clicking your tongue. “but just so you know, i’m wearing a sundress to the event. the kind that’s real easy to slide up.”
the silence on the other end was deafening. you could hear his shallow, shaky breathing, the sound of a man who was once again realizing he was completely and utterly fucked.
“you’re fucked up in the head,” he finally choked out. “i’m going to make your life a living hell at that expo. just wait.”
“i’m looking forward to it, princess,” you whispered. “don’t forget to pack the lotion. you’re gonna need it.”
then the day of the expo arrived.
the convention center was a zoo, filled with the smell of expensive cooling fans and energy drinks.
you could hear the loud cheer of the crowd from the main stage, but you were currently focused on the back entrance.
you walked toward the ‘pro player’ lounge, and as soon as you pushed the doors open, you spotted him.
naoya was surrounded by staff, looking bored and arrogant wearing a custom jersey.
he was in the middle of sipping from a bottled water when his eyes landed on you.
naoya actually choked.
he sputtered, water spraying down the front of his expensive shirt as he coughed violently.
the staff around him scrambled to help, but he shoved them away, his eyes locked on you, specifically on the way the sundress clung to your hips and the deep dip of the neckline.
“you…” he wheezed, his face rapidly turning a shade of red. “what the fuck are you wearing? this is a professional event, not a—”
“not a what, naoya?” you asked, walking right up to him and patting his chest with a smirk. “you look a little hot. is the air conditioning not working in here, or are you just happy to see me?”
he looked like he wanted to scream and pull you into a closet at the same time. “you’re doing this on purpose,” he hissed, leaning down so only you could hear him over the noise of the convention. “you look like a bratty little slut. everyone’s staring at you. i can’t even stand up right now because of you.”
“good,” you whispered back, giving him a wink before heading toward the booths.
the day was a series of interviews and showmatches.
naoya was a mess; every time you leaned over to check your monitor or reached up to adjust your headset, his aim would go to shit, causing his chat to have a field day, clipping every time he got distracted by you sitting just a few feet away.
once the first day wrapped up and the players were heading to their respective hotels. naoya was at the curb, waiting for his private car, looking exhausted and tense.
“where’s your ride?” he muttered as you walked up to him, your small suitcase trailing behind you. “your hotel is on the other side of the district, isn’t it?”
“was,” you corrected him, popping the trunk of his car before he could protest and tossing your bag inside. “i decided my room was too lonely. i’m staying with you.”
naoya’s jaw dropped. “the fuck you are! i didn’t agree to this! you can’t just—”
“i can and i am,” you said, sliding into the back seat and patting the spot next to you. “unless you want me to tell your manager why you were vibrating so hard during the third round of the showmatch. get in, nao-chan. we have a lot to talk about, and i don’t think a discord call is going to cut it tonight.”
the drive to the hotel was silent, mostly because naoya looked like he was one comment away from a total meltdown.
his hand was resting on his lap, and you could see the way his knuckles were white, his eyes darting toward your legs every time the streetlights hit the car window.
the second the door to his suite clicked shut, he turned on you, slamming his hand against the wood next to your head.
“you’re a menace,” he growled darkly. “you show up in that dress, you humiliate me in front of my fans, and now you’re invading my room? you really think you can just keep pushing me like this without any consequences?”
“i’m counting on the consequences, naoya,” you said, reaching up to trail a finger along the collar of his jersey. “you’ve been acting so tough all day. why don’t you show me if you’re still a good boy when the cameras are off?”
he let out a jagged sound, his pride finally snapping as he grabbed your waist and hauled you flush against him.
you could feel the hard ridge of his dick pressing into your stomach, even through the fabric of your dress.
“i’m going to ruin you,” he whispered against your lips. “i’m going to make sure you can’t even walk to the booth tomorrow.”
he slammed you back against the door, crashing his mouth onto yours violently.
there was no teasing this time, no slow build-up. what’s left is just his raw, frantic need.
he groaned into your throat as his hands flew to your chest, grabbing your breasts through the thin fabric of your dress.
“fuck,” he rasped against your lips, mounding your breast. “i’ve been wanting to rip these out of this goddamn dress since the second you walked into the lounge. you fucking brat.”
“ah— nao, wait—” you gasped, but the protest was swallowed by his tongue forcing its way back into your mouth.
it was a messy, wet war between your tongues; fighting for space while you scrambled at the zipper of his jersey. your nails dug into his shoulders, pulling at the fabric.
naoya didn’t have the patience for zippers, so he hooked his fingers into the neckline of your sundress and yanked downward with a sharp rrip.
the yellow fabric gave way, tearing down the middle and exposing your bare tits. he let out a jagged breath at the sight, his eyes dark and blown out.
“oh yes... look at you,” he hissed, his hands immediately cupping your breasts, and rolling his thumbs over your nipples until you let out a sharp, high pitched “ah!”
you didn’t stay still either.
you fought back, yanking his jersey over his head and tossing it somewhere.
your hands went straight for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle in your haste. “get... get this off, naoya! fuck, you’re so slow!”
“shut up!” he growled, biting down on your bottom lip so hard you tasted the tang of blood.
you bit him back, your teeth catching on his lip as you finally freed his dick from his pants.
it sprang out, already standing proud and throbbing, slamming the head against your stomach.
he was fucking huge, even bigger and harder than you remembered, the thick veins pulsing against your skin. “uhm... god, naoya,” you moaned, your head tossing back against the door as he buried his face in your neck, leaving dark, bruised marks.
his hand slid down, his fingers roughly pushing aside your lace panties until he found your pussy.
you were a complete mess, dripping wet and your juices immediately coated his fingers the second he touched you.
“you’re soaking,” he muttered. “look at how much of a slut you are for me. you’re practically leaking all over the floor.”
“fuck you, naoya! ah— right there!” you cried out as he shoved two fingers deep inside you while his thumb grinding against your clit.
you were clenching around him, your walls pulsing with a desperate need to be filled by the real thing.
“stop talking and... and put it in. i want it now.”
he let out a low, animalistic sound, his teeth grazing over your collarbone.
he was shaking, his pride is completely gone, replaced by a twitching need to claim you. his massive dick was rubbing against your wet slit, smearing pre-cum all over your folds.
naoya didn’t let you breathe.
before you could even process the weight of him against the door, he hooked his arms under your thighs and hauled you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist.
your torn dress hanging off your hips in shreds as he stumbled toward the bed, tripping over his own discarded pants. he threw you onto the mattress, but he didn’t give you a second to recover.
“you’ve been running your mouth all day,” he rasped, licking his lips. “time to put it to better use.”
he stood at the edge of the bed, leveling his throbbing dick which was already standing tall and angry. he reached down, fisting his fingers into your hair and pulling your head toward him.
“suck it. i want to feel how much you missed me.”
you didn’t need to be told twice. you leaned forward, darting your tongue out to lick the length of himt.
when you finally took him into your mouth, you let out a muffled “uhm!” the sheer length of him made your jaw ache instantly.
naoya let out a long, shaky groan, his hand tightening in your hair, forcing you deeper onto him.
“fuck... yes, just like that. you’re so good at this, aren't you? ah! fuck, your tongue—!”
he was even thrusting his hips instinctively, his breath coming in jagged hitches as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock.
he held your head in place like he was holding on for his dear life just from the sensation of you giving him a head, his body vibrating with the effort not to blow his load right then and there.
but you weren’t done being the one in control.
you pulled back with a wet pop, looking up at him with a defiant, hungry smirk.
before he could complain, you shoved him back onto the pillows and crawled over him. you positioned yourself over his face, your dripping, swollen pussy hovering just inches from his mouth.
you could see his eyes widen, his breath hitching as the scent of your own juices hit him.
“sit on me,” he choked out, his hands reaching up to grab your ass, fingers digging into your skin. “do it, fuck, i want to taste you.”
you lowered yourself slowly and your wet slit pressed firmly against his lips. “ah! yes... fuck, naoya!” you cried out as his tongue immediately lashed out, making sure he’s darting deep inside you.
he was eating you like a starving man, kissing your pussy sensually while swirling his tongue up and down your clit. constantly teasing and constantly sucking at the same time.
“uhm—! ah! right there, nao! fuck!” you arched your back, your hands clutching the headboard as he sucked your clit into his mouth, his fingers reaching around to pull your cheeks apart so he could get even deeper.
the sensation was overwhelming, his tongue was literally making your pussy lick more from licking to sucking.
he’s making you see stars while your pussy is clenching rhythmically, splashing more of your juice onto his face.
“you taste... so fucking good,” he managed to gasp out between licks, his voice muffled by your folds. “ah! fuck, look at how much you’re leaking for me. you’re a fucking mess. you’re my bitch, you got that?!”
“shut up and... ah! keep going! yes! ah! ah! ah!” you were losing it, your entire body was shaking as the first wave of an orgasm started to build up, and your internal muscles squeezing tightly around nothing while naoya continued to devour you with a relentless hunger.
it did not take a while before you were screaming stop and holding his face back, forcing him to stop licking because you were literally about to pee on his face.
the sensation was too much and it was tickling your sexual soul so much that his tongue was doing you all the favors that him eating you out felt much greater than when you were touching yourself.
he ate your clit and inserted his tongue inside your pussy with intent and naoya didn’t even give you a second to breathe after you came on his face.
he growled and grabbed your hips, flipping you over onto your back violently.
he was panting, his face smeared with your juices, his hair a mess, and his massive dick was throbbing so hard it looked like it was about to split skin.
“you’re such a loud-mouthed brat,” he hissed as he pinned your wrists above your head. “think you can handle this? think you’re big enough for me, guest_01?”
he didn’t wait for an answer and just positioned the broad head of his cock against your dripping entrance. you immediately felt the tip of him, thick and blunt, pushing against your folds, and as he began to drive forward, you let out a sharp, strangled “ah! ah! fuck, naoya!”
your pussy was being stretched to its absolute limit.
you could feel the walls of your vagina being forced apart, the skin of your entrance pulled taut while your hole adjusted around the size of him.
it felt like you were being filled to the brim, every nerve ending in your slit screaming as he buried himself deep inside you in one long, relentless shove.
“uhm—! god, you’re... you’re fucking huge,” you gasped, your head tossing back against the pillows. “you’re trying to... ah! break me, aren’t you? you pathetic... arrogant... prick!”
“shut your mouth!” naoya snapped, though his own breath was hitching in his throat.
he started to move, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in.
“you’re so tight... fuck! it’s like you were made to be stretched out by me. admit it, you fucking love being filled like this.”
he wasn’t just hitting you; he was hitting everything.
because of his size and the angle he was driving at, his dick’s head was hooking right against your g-spot with every single thrust.
“ah! yes! right there! oh god, fuck!” you cried out, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him even deeper. “you’re hitting it... ah! ah! don’t stop, you bastard! keep going!”
“i’ll stop when i say so!” he barked, his eyes narrowed with a mix of lust and pride as he watched your face contort in pleasure.
he was hammering into you frantically, just freely letting his massive dick slide through your entrance, creating the sound of loud and vulgar squelch from your wetness. “look at you... moaning like a slut. who’s the winner now, guest_01? who’s owning who?”
“uhm—! you’re still a bitch, naoya!” you choked out, even as your pussy clenched violently around him, milked by the sheer size of his shaft. “you’re just a... ah! ah! a big-dicked bitch! fuck! right there! ah!”
the insults were getting drowned out by the sound of skin slapping skin and the frantic moans escaping your lips.
naoya was losing his cool too as he felt your internal muscles squeezing him, begging for more.
he buried his face in the crook of your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth as he delivered deep, punishing stabs that made your vision go blurry.
“i’m gonna... fuck... i’m gonna cum so deep inside you,” he groaned, his voice breaking. “you’re gonna be full of me all through the expo tomorrow. everyone’s gonna see you and know... ah! fuck! know exactly what i did to you!”
“do it then!” you screamed, your nails digging into his back, drawing blood as your own climax began to build again, triggered by the relentless pounding against your g-spot. “fill me up, naoya! ah! ah! yes! fuck! now!”
naoya wasn’t satisfied with just hearing you scream from underneath him.
as soon as you peaked, your walls twitching and milking him with desperate, wet clenches, he let out a jagged growl.
he didn’t pull out; instead, he grabbed your waist with bruising force and hauled you upward, flipping you onto your hands and knees in one motion.
your pussy felt wide and raw, still throbbing from the stretch, but he didn’t give you a second to adjust.
he reached forward, his fingers fisting into your hair and yanking your head back so your spine arched, pushing your ass high into the air.
“you think you’ve had enough?” he hissed into your ear. “i told you i was going to ruin you. we’re just getting started.”
he lined his massive cock up with your opening and slammed with a single, violent thrust.
“ah! fuck! naoya!” you shrieked, your chest hitting the mattress as the sheer force of the impact rattled your entire frame.
taking him from behind felt completely different. he was hitting even deeper in this position, maybe until your stomach now, you don;t fucking know. all you know was he’s fucking tipping your pussy apart with his thick shaft sliding through the pool of your combined juices with loud squelch.
“uhm—! god, it’s too... it’s too deep!” you gasped, your fingers clawing at the bedsheets as he started to drill deeper into you.
he was relentless, his hips snapping forward arrogantly and every time he bottomed out, his balls slapped against you.
naoya was a maniac.
he kept a firm grip on your hair, using it to control the angle as he hammered away at your g-spot. “look at this mess you made,” he mocked as he watched his thick, veiny dick disappear inside you and pull out covered in your cum from earlier. “you’re so fucking wet. you’re begging for it, aren’t you? ah! fuck, you're so tight, i can barely—ah!”
“shut up and... ah! ah! just keep hitting it!” you cried out, your head tossing. “you talk too much... uhm! yes! right there! fuck, naoya, harder! slam into me like you mean it, you prick!”
“you want it harder?!” he barked, his ego flaring at the challenge.
but he still increased the pace, his thrusts becoming short stabs that sent sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your brain. “i’ll give it to you... ah! i’ll give you exactly what you deserve! hm fuck yeah..”
you were losing your mind from the sensation of his massive cock filling you completely, combined with the sharp pull on your hair and the vulgar sound of your bodies colliding.
your pussy was screaming, clenching around him so hard which made naoya grunt and bite his lower lip because it felt so fucking good.
he shifted, grabbing your hips with his sweat-slicked hands and dragged you upward until you were straddling him.
he leaned back against the headboard, his chest heaving, and his still hardening dick guiding you until you lowered yourself down, sliding down onto his full length in one slow, agonizingly deep plunge.
“ah! ah! fuck, naoya!” you gasped, your nails digging into the mattress as he filled you completely.
being on top lets you control the friction with how you ground your hips down.
naoya didn’t stay still, he was too hungry to be. his hands flew up to your chest, and made his mouth latch onto your breast.
he wasn’t just kissing; he was sucking, teeth grazing your nipple while he fisted his hands into your hair, yanking you down so you had no choice but to stay close to his face.
“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his voice vibrating through your chest as he sucked harder. “you’re so fucking wet, you’re drowning me. ah! look at you riding me like a pro.”
“you’re... ah! ah! still a prick!” you cried out, your own hands gripping his messy hair as you started to grind against him. the feeling was electric, every slide of his dick against your internal walls were sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
“you’re still so tight, you’re killing me!” he barked while his eyes rolled back, all while he sucked your other breast, pulling until you let out a high-pitched “ah! ah! ah!”, feeling the sensation of his mouth on your tits while your pussy clenched around his massive cock.
you started to bounce, faster and harder, making your breasts jiggle with every movement.
his hands never left your hair because he was using it to keep you locked in place. “i’m not... ah! i’m not slowing down for you! fuck, naoya, you’re so big... ah! it feels like you’re splitting me in two!”
“yeah? let me fucking split you then!” his hips were bucking upward to meet your downward thrusts.
he was hammering into you, and every time you slammed down, he’d suck harder on your nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive skin until you were sobbing with pleasure.
“oh god... yes! fuck! ah! ah! ah!” you were lost, your body is now moving on instinct as your pussy milk him, feeling his dick swell even more inside your aching, stretched-out folds.
he was staring up at you, his eyes dark, his lips swollen and red from your own teeth earlier, looking at you with a mix of pure, unadulterated possessiveness.
“ride me until you can’t walk,” he ordered, sounding more drunk while his grip in your hair is tightening until it almost hurt. “i want you to remember this feeling every time you look at me on stream. you belong to me.”
“i’m ... ah! fuck! ah! ah!” you screamed, your hips moving in a wild, uncontrolled manner until the pressure finally became too much, and you both shattered into an earth-shattering climax together.
you were bouncing wildly on top of him, your nails shredded through his scalp, and he responded by arching his back and driving his hips upward.
you felt his balls slap against your pussy with every frantic lunge, and when he finally exploded inside you, it was too much that it started to drip out.
you clutched his shoulders while your legs were shaking uncontrollably. you spasmed around him, milking every last drop of his cum. then you collapsed against his chest, both of you gasping for air.
the next morning, you woke up so fucking sore.
you groaned, trying to roll over, but your entire body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.
your pussy was swollen and throbbing, and your hips ached with a deep, bruised soreness that made every movement sting.
you crawled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom to brush your teeth.
you gripped the sink to steady yourself, your eyes half-closed as you stared at your reflection.
your neck was covered in hickeys and your hair was a tangled disaster.
you assumed he was still dead to the world in the king bed, out like a light after the absolute marathon he’d forced you through.
you had just started scrubbing your teeth when the bathroom door creaked open.
you didn’t even have time to turn around before you felt a heavy weight press against your back.
naoya was still stark naked with his hair still messy from sleep, and before you could even say out a “good morning”, he grabbed your hips with both hands and jerked you backward so your ass was pressed firmly against his hard, morning stiff cock.
“think you’re getting away that easily?” he rasped against your ear.
you didn’t even get to pull the toothbrush out of your mouth before he slammed his hips forward without warning, no lube, no foreplay, just the sudden, heavy pressure of him sliding into your tight, already-sore slit.
“ah! f-fuck—!” you choked out, the toothbrush clattering into the sink as you doubled over, your hands bracing against the counter.
his dick was massive, filling you up instantly, stretching you out until you felt like you might snap.
“you’re mine,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he started to drive into you right there in the bathroom. “i’m not done with you yet.”
sure enough after an hour of him absolutely wrecking you against the bathroom vanity, you were left in a state of complete ruin.
your legs were shaking, your pussy felt like it had been through a car wash, and every muscle in your back were screaming in protest as you tried to even stand straight.
naoya, meanwhile, was glowing with a satisfied energy that made you want to claw his eyes out, if you had the strength.
when you finally left the hotel, the transition to the expo was pathetic.
naoya didn’t bother with a cab or a shuttle.
he literally walked through the lobby with his arm hooked firmly around your waist, his grip so possessive and tight that you couldn’t have pulled away if you tried.
he was practically carrying half your weight, leaning down every few seconds to whisper something lewd into your ear, making sure you felt every ounce of his arrogance.
“look at you,” he hissed, his thumb digging into your hipbone. “you’re so sore you can barely stand. you’re just my favorite little toy, and everyone here is going to know it just by looking at the way you’re struggling to keep up with me.”
you tried to snap back, but all that came out was a breathless, “fuck... off, naoya.”
when the two of you walked into the player lounge, the room went dead silent.
naoya didn’t give a shit. instead, he steered you straight to your booth, which, true to the organizers’ plan was right next to his.
he didn’t let you walk to your chair; he literally guided you, his hand sliding down to your ass to give it a firm squeeze before he shoved you into your seat.
he leaned over the small partition between your booths, his face inches from yours, looking like a king who had just conquered a new territory. “stay right there,” he commanded. “don’t talk to anyone. i’m watching you.”
you slumped into your chair, the soreness in your hips making you wince as you sat down, and you saw his eyes track the movement with a sick, satisfied smirk.
he knew exactly why you were hurting and he knew exactly what he’d done to you in that bathroom.
as he turned to his own setup, you saw him glance at his chat, which was already scrolling past, thousands of people realizing exactly why you were walking so slowly and why naoya looked like he was vibrating.
“yeah, she’s staying here,” he said, shooting you a sharp, hooded look. “she’s a bit tired today. i gave her a hell of a morning workout.”
the chat went into complete meltdown, and you could only lean your head against your monitor, while feeling your face burning, knowing you were well and truly trapped.
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“anyway, big day. we’re playing a brand new demo today. it’s the latest project from my girlfriend. pretty cool, right?”
there was a heartbeat of silence. then, the chat exploded.
GIRLFRIEND?!!
WTH WHAT DID I MISS?!!
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!!
GOJO SATORU HAS A GF? THE WORLD IS ENDING
the camera flickered to life, capturing satoru gojo in his natural habitat: sitting on a high end gaming chair and a grin that was far too bright for a man about to play a horror game.
he leaned back, adjusting his headset over his white hair and struck a pose with his chin resting on his hand, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“how’s this, chat? good for a thumbnail?” he chirped and even pouted like a baby.
the chat was so fucking used to this man child (this is a joke) that they were going crazy over his little fan service before he starts his stream. but he didn’t wait for them to settle.
“anyway, big day. we’re playing a brand new demo today. it’s the latest project from my girlfriend. pretty cool, right?”
there was a heartbeat of silence. then, the chat exploded.
GIRLFRIEND?!!
WTH WHAT DID I MISS?!!
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!!
GOJO SATORU HAS A GF? THE WORLD IS ENDING
the wall of text was moving so fast, it was impossible to read even a single one of them. that’s the satoru gojo effect.
always a massive presence wherever he is.
miles away in your dimly lit studio, you nearly choked on your coffee. you were supposed to be watching the stream to gauge public reaction to the demo you’d spent fourteen months coding alone in the dark.
and the hottest streamer on the planet calling you his ‘girlfriend’ was not in your top 10 bingo card this year.
first of all. no.
you weren’t his girlfriend.
second, you didn’t even know satoru gojo personally.
to you, he was the mega streamer who had single handedly catapulted your career from underrated to overrated every time you released a project, he was the first to play it, his massive platform was acting as a catalyst for your success.
you appreciated him, sure, but you were pretty certain you’d never even spoken to him outside of a formal ‘thank you’ email sent to his business manager.
then, the tags started.
@dev_name did you hear this?!
@dev_name PLEASE CONFIRM ARE YOU DATING GOJO??
@dev_name IS THIS A LEAK??
satoru leaned back, looking absolutely delighted by the chaos on his second monitor. he started reading out the questions and had the audacity to answer them.
“how long have we been together? oh, it’s been years, chat. years! since her first pixel art game,” he lied effortlessly, waving a hand dismissively as if your lack of personal contact was just a private relationship quirk. “we’ve been through it all. when her cat died, i was there too at its funeral….”
what the heck?
you don’t even have a cat!
he leaned closer to the camera with an offended pout when someone said he’s lying.
“don’t believe me? we even have a call sign. i call her coocookachoo and she calls me sexy knickers,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect while the chat lost its collective mind. “we are very official!! her parents know me too!”
(a/n: i got these off reddit pls i know they’re corny as FUCK)
you stared at the screen, face heating up in a mix of horror and secondhand embarrassment. coocookachoo and sexy knickers? he was literally making this up on the spot, enjoying every second of the confusion he was sowing.
“don’t tag her too much, guys,” he added with a wink, finally clicking the ‘start game’ button. “my coocookachoo is very shy.”
you couldn’t let it slide. not the coocookachoo and certainly not the ‘years together’ part. your notifications were currently a series of fans demanding a wedding date, so you cracked your knuckles, leaned over your mechanical keyboard, and did the only thing a developer could do.
on the screen, satoru was navigating the first hallway of your demo. he was actually focusing. “see the lighting here? she really nailed the—”
he stopped and his eyes darted to his second monitor. your username had just appeared in the chat, highlighted in a developer only neon gold.
[dev_name]: satoru.
[dev_name]: i am literally a line of code away from deleting this demo from your pc. [dev_name]: who in the hell is “coocookachoo”?
the chat went absolutely feral. the scrolling speed became a series of:
SHE’S HERE
LMAO EXPOSED
COOCOOKACHOO WTF IS THAT NICKNAME
satoru let out a delighted laughter, leaning back and abandoning his character in the middle of a dark corridor. he looked directly into the camera lens as if he could see you through the screen.
“oh, look! she’s shy but she’s feisty,” he teased, his grin widening. “did you hear that, chat? she’s threatening my access. that’s how you know the love is real.”
[dev_name]: we have never met.
[dev_name]: i sent your manager a steam key via email. that is the extent of our years together.
[dev_name]: stop lying to these people or the final boss is going to be a giant, sentient coocookachoo that one shots you.
satoru clapped his hands together, looking like he’d just won the lottery. “see? she’s already thinking about me! creating custom content just for her favorite streamer and boyfriend. and don’t lie, coocookachoo, you know you love the publicity.”
he leaned in again, tweaking his brows up and down. “don’t listen to her, chat. she’s just embarrassed because i leaked our secret call sign. it’s a high stress job, she needs her sexy knickers to keep her grounded.”
[dev_name]: i’m changing the final boss’s name to ‘the lying white-haired streamer.’
[dev_name]: and i’m making it impossible to beat. goodbye, satoru.
“wait, wait! don’t go!” he laughed, finally grabbing the mouse again as a jump scare triggered, a distorted figure was sprinting across the screen.
he didn’t even flinch and just kept smiling.
an hour later, satoru was just about to sign off when his desktop pinged with a high priority system alert. his eyebrows shot up.
“oh? wait a second, chat. looks like my coocookachoo sent me a little something. is it a love letter? a secret level? let’s find out together.”
he dragged the window onto the main screen so the hundred thousand viewers could see the black and green terminal style email.
he read the code out loud.
“initialize sequence: coocookachoo protocol... status: 403 forbidden... error: sexy knickers not found in database.”
he leaned back, clutching his chest as if he’d been shot. “ouch. she’s cold, chat. she’s colder than the ghost in her own game. but wait, what’s this at the bottom? a secret code?”
he highlighted the string of 1s and 0s you’d painstakingly typed out.
“hold on, i actually know how to do this,” he isn’t lying, he can. he immediately opens a binary to text translator in a new tab while singing a jaunty tune. “let’s see the secret message... is it ‘i love you, satoru’? is it ‘marry me’?"
he pasted the code and hit convert.
the screen flashed with the result: leave me alone.
the chat moved so fast with a sea of “LMAOOOO,” “REJECTED,” and “L+RATIO” flooded the side of the screen.
satoru stared at the three words for a second. then, he burst into a fit of wheezing laughter, doubling over in his chair.
“did you see that?!” he gasped, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “she actually coded a rejection!”
he leaned in, grin wider.
“you hear that, chat? she’s playing hard to get using programming languages. that’s high-level flirting right there. you don’t send a custom script to someone you don’t care about.”
he pointed a finger at the lens, blue eyes bright with a challenge.
“i see you watching, coocookachoo! you can hide behind your computer, but you can’t hide from the strongest streamer in the world. i’m keeping this email forever. it’s basically our first anniversary gift.”
he winked one last time before finally clicking the button to end the stream, leaving his fans, and you, in a state of absolute madness.
a/n: i am pretty conflicted whether i should continue this or not, this is hard to write cause i have 0 knowledge about 1. internal stuff about streaming and 2. game developer shenanigans
• genre: smut, step dad au, taboo romance
• content warning: mdni, lots of smut, explicit sexual content, voyeurism, age gap, degradation kink, heavy adult
themes, explicit language, and infidelity themes.
wc: 8.1k
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ CHAPTER 1
you were never some innocent kid when it came to your mom’s shit. you knew exactly how she was into getting high and getting laid.
specifically, she’s got a thing for meatheads, and she isn’t above paying for any male escorts when she’s bored. Honestly speaking, that doesn’t even faze you. why? because that kind of fucked up system is just the house you grew up in.
and when you say ‘house’, you mean a father and a mother. and your dad was no better. he was a textbook womanizer who basically died because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. but technically, he lived with a deadline; he was ill (has a chronic illness). and you suppose when you’re living on borrowed time, you spend it where you feel most alive. for him, that was anywhere his dick could lead him.
anyway, you knew it was only a matter of time before your mom found a permanent warm body to replace him (or at least that’s how it looks).
what you didn’t expect was for her to drag in a homeless, broke ass guy off the street. it piqued your curiosity. you know your mother, she’s not the type to even deal with penniless losers unless they’re packing a massive dick or they’re built like a tank.
turns out, you were right.
yeah.
toji fushiguro.
that’s the guy fucking your mother senseless every night and he’s exactly what you expected: huge, muscular, and has that thick-faced look of a man who knows exactly how much space he takes up in a room.
it had been a few weeks, and you were already being turned into a restless, sleep-deprived loser who’d gone through a breakup, that insomnia had nothing to do with it. for a girl used to buying her way out of any problem and getting every whim catered to, this was a new kind of itch.
it had become a sick little routine. every night, you found yourself pacing the hallway outside the maste’s bedroom.
they didn’t even try to be quiet anymore.
they were at it again. they were always at it.
the noises were loud enough to echo through the massive hallways. your mother wasn’t even trying to be discreet. she sounded like she was being eaten alive.
and toji?
he was fucking shameless. he knew there was a daughter in the house just a few feet away, but he didn’t give a single shit.
he was a thirty years old squatter with an ego, treating the woman who paid his bills like a dog (well, technically, she’s probably on all fours right now so you might be right about that).
“is that all you’ve got?” your mom gasped. she couldn’t even hide the desperation in her voice anymore.
“shut up and take it,” toji’s voice came through that made your skin crawl. “stop whining and keep your ass up.”
the sound of a heavy slap rang out, followed by a sharp intake of breath. he was fucking her like he was trying to break the bed frame. he called her names while he was buried inside her. it was filthy, degrading, and utterly hypnotic.
you should be disgusted. in the first place, hearing two older people acting as your mom and dad fucking would be very awkward. well, it IS unquestionably awkward.
and you? you stood there while blushing profusely.
you must be sick in the head too, aren’t you?
your skin got itchy and you can’t move your feet to walk away, cause you are literally starting to crave what you’re hearing.
toji was nearly a decade older, but it felt like a century. he had that dead eyed stare that suggested he’d seen everything and wasn’t impressed by any of it: not your family’s wealth and definitely not the unhinged brat (you) listening from the shadows.
he didn’t walk on eggshells around you; he didn’t even acknowledge the eggshells existed.
it was a full blown obsession now.
like you’d be at your desk trying to study, and then you’d hear that first moan or the smash of the headboard, and you were up, immediately out the door, into the hallway just to listen to toji earn his keep.
it was inevitable. his performance in bed must have been a religious experience for your mother, because she didn’t just keep him as a pet, she literally decided to remarry.
now, toji was a permanent distraction in your own house: sat across from you at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, eating the food your mom’s money bought. it was a fucking fever dream, watching him play house while you sat there with itchy skin.
you knew your obsession was a sickness. fantasizing about the man who was technically becoming your stepfather was gross, even by your standards.
tonight, your mother was away on a business trip. you did your usual walk down the hallway, expecting silence, but then you heard a single, low groan. not your mother’s desperate whimpers, but a deep sound that could only belong to him.
the door was half open and when you peaked through the gap, the sight made your breath hitch in your throat.
toji was sprawled across the massive bed. he was alone, but he wasn’t idle.
his hand was buried in his sweatpants, moving up and down slowly, but still made the bed frame creak. i mean, that view itself was surprising, but…
it was his other hand that made your heart stop. he was holding a pair of lace underwear.
and that underwear:
is unmistakably yours.
he had his face buried in the fabric, inhaling deeply while his eyes closed in a sort of dark, twisted concentration. he wasn’t thinking about your mother while he was masturbating. he was sniffing your scent out of it while he worked himself over.
the man who was supposed to be your new father figure, was currently defiling your clothes in the dark. and as you watched him, you realized the obsession wasn’t just one-sided anymore.
your mother was still miles away the next morning, meaning you’re still left alone with the man who had spent his night inhaling your scent and masturbating off it.
you walked into the kitchen and found toji already there.
he was leaned against the marble counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. he didn’t even look up when you entered, just stared out the window with that same bored expression.
“you’re up early,” he remarked. he looked at you then, his eyes dragging slowly from your feet up to your face.
“couldn’t sleep,” you answered, steadying your voice despite the adrenaline.
you moved toward the fridge, purposely brushing past him. the scent of him hit you hard. “it was too quiet last night. i’m used to a lot more... noise coming from down the hall.”
toji let out a short, dry laugh. he set his coffee down and watched you reach for the juice. “missing the show? i thought a pampered brat like you would appreciate the peace and quiet.”
you turned to face him, leaning back against the counter, crossing your arms. you gave him a knowing look. “not really. i actually find myself getting pretty observant when things get quiet. for example, i noticed something was missing from my laundry this morning.”
toji tilted his head, making his dark hair fall into his eyes. “is that so? what’d you lose? a diamond earring? a gold spoon?”
“underwear,” you stared at him, trying to match the intensity of his pair of dead eyes. “an expensive one. the kind of thing that doesn’t just disappear unless someone went looking for it.”
toji didn’t even flinch. instead, a predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. it looked like he was caught, okay, but does he care? no.
he took a step closer, invading your personal space until you could only look up just to meet his gaze.
“maybe you just misplaced it,” he said and leaned down, his face is now inches from yours, feeling his warm breath against your cheek. “or maybe there’s a thief in the house. you should probably be more careful where you leave your things lying around. someone might get the wrong idea about how much you want to be noticed.”
he didn’t back away. he just stood there, waiting to see if you’d break first.
of course you didn’t flinch. why would you?
instead, you leaned into his space, reaching out to trace the edge of the marble counter right next to his hip and looked up at him.
“you’re awfully bold for a guy who’s one phone call away from being back on the street,” you whispered teasingly. “i wonder how my mother would react if she knew the man she’s so obsessed with spent his night alone in her bed, fantasizing about her daughter. especially one nearly a decade younger than him. it’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think? getting off on my laundry?”
you expected him to look away or pull back, but toji just stayed there, as solid as a stone wall.
“pathetic?” he repeated and let out a dry chuckle. “maybe. but i’m not the only one with a habit, am i?”
he moved closer, pinning you against the counter without even touching you.
“you talk about your mother like you’re worried about her feelings,” he raised a brow at you, as if mocking your very existence. “but let’s be real. how would she react if she knew her precious, privileged daughter spends her nights listening to me fuck the life out of her? how would she feel knowing you’ve been imagining it was you in that bed?”
his eyes dropped to your lips, then back up to yours.
“we’d both be fucked,” he concluded, smirk widening. “you’re just as sick as i am, kid. maybe sicker.”
he reached out, his long and thick fingers ghosting just an inch away from your jawline, refusing to give you the satisfaction of actual contact.
“so, what now? you gonna tell her? or are you gonna go back upstairs and think about what i was doing with that panty?”
the smug look on his face was infuriating. you hated losing, especially to a guy who was supposed to be nothing more than a glorified pet in your mother's house.
that arrogant smirk he’s wearing made you want to slap him and scream at him, but at the same time, the way he read you so easily made you wet your own pajamas.
you didn’t say another word, just grabbed your drink and stormed past him, and the sound of his chuckle followed you all the way back up the stairs.
it was a few hours later when your phone buzzed on the nightstand.
it was your mother.
“hey, honey,” she said. judging by the sounds of her background, she was probably at the airport or in the back of a car. “just checking in. everything okay at the house?”
“fine,” you replied flatly. “boring as usual.”
there was a long pause on the other end, a moment where she was choosing her words carefully. your mother wasn’t an idiot.
she hadn’t survived your father’s bullshit without developing a sixth sense. she’s just as crazy as you, if you remember correctly.
“i know how... intense things can feel at home right now,” she started. “toji is... he’s a lot for a man. i know you’re used to getting your way, but don’t let your curiosity get the better of you while i’m gone.”
you sat up, your grip tightening on the phone. “what is that supposed to mean?”
“it means,” she said, “that i brought him in because he fits into my life. he isn’t a toy for you to poke at because you’re bored or restless. stay in your room, and let him be. i don’t want to come home and find out you’ve been... making things complicated.”
“i’m not a child, mom,” you snapped.
“then stop acting like one. i’ll be home tomorrow. love you.”
she hung up, leaving the dial tone ringing in your ear.
you tossed the phone onto the bed. of course, she was threatened. she knew you were a predator just like her, and she was terrified you’d try to take what was hers.
but being told ‘no’ had always been the quickest way to make you want something even more.
the house went back to normal at midnight.
the silence was shattered the second your mother walked through the door, replaced by her familiar muffled screams.
meanwhile you sat in your room, staring at your textbooks, hating him. you hated his stamina and that if he were just some average guy, she’d have been bored of him by now. but he was big, and he was relentless, and it kept her hooked like an addict.
it was a cycle you couldn’t break, and it was wearing you down.
a few days later, you were standing on the curb outside the university, looking at your phone with a scowl. your car was still in the shop, in probation for a reckless driving incident you didn’t feel like apologizing for and both family drivers were occupied.
your mom had sent a text: toji is coming to get you. don’t make a scene.
“seriously? you’re still waiting for a ride?”
you looked up to see a guy from your business law class. he was wealthy, attractive in a conventional way, and had been chasing you for months.
he wanted to fuck you, and he wasn’t shy about it, but every time he looked at you, you just compared him to the man in your house. who’s far bigger in every aspect.
“my ride’s on the way,” you said, your voice dripping with your usual bored arrogance.
“i could just take you,” he stepped closer, reaching out his hand to brush against your arm. “we could grab a drink. my parents are out of town, and i’ve got that vintage wine you liked.”
he was laying it on thick, leaning in to whisper something in your ear, when a rumbled engine cut through. then a black suv pulled up.
the driver’s side window rolled down slowly, revealing toji. he looked even more out of place here than he did at your dinner table.
he was dressed in a tight black shirt that showed off every muscle on his upper body. his dark eyes flickered from you to the guy beside you, who still had his hand on your arm.
toji didn’t get out of the car. he just leaned his elbow on the window frame, looking at the two of you.
“you done?” toji’s voice was a low. “your mother wants you home. she didn’t say anything about waiting around while you played house with this kid.”
the boy frowned, trying to keep his composure. “who’s this? your bodyguard?”
toji let out a dry laugh and looked the boy up and down.
"i’m her dad, kid,” toji said, his eyes finally locking onto yours knowingly. “get in the car. now.”
it was the same tone he used when he told your mother to shut up. the guy you’re with looked offended, but you didn’t care about him at all.
the traffic that followed was a nightmare. inside the suv, the air conditioning was the only sound you can hear, but the chills it’s supposed to give didn’t do anything to cool the suffocating tension between you.
toji used one hand lazily on the steering wheel, looking bored out of his mind, as if he hadn’t just humiliated a guy half his age in front of the entire campus.
you shifted in the leather seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs.
the sight of him asserting dominance back there had done something to you and the fact that he was acting like nothing happened was driving you insane.
“you’ve got a lot of nerve,” you finally snapped. “acting like a protective father back there. you really care that much about another guy trying to get under my panties? that’s pathetic, coming from the man who spends his nights sniffing them in my mother’s bed.”
toji didn’t even turn his head. he just tapped on the wheel. “i don’t care who you spend your time with. i just don’t like waiting. you were dragging your feet, and i have better things to do than watch some trust-fund kid beg for a taste.”
“is that it?” you leaned closer to him. “because it looked a lot like you were marking territory.”
you waited for a reaction, but he just let out a dry, irritating laugh.
“you think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?” he mockingly said.
“i know what i saw,” you countered, your hand sliding down your own thigh. “and if you’re so desperate to get close to my underwear, why settle for the ones in the laundry? i’m wearing a pair right now. and because of that little ‘jealousy’ display back there, they’re already soaked. you want to smell the real thing, toji? or are you too busy playing house with my mom?”
the silence that followed was deafening. you thought you’d won, thought you’d finally pushed him to a point where he’d be flustered.
but toji wasn’t just some guy.
he finally turned his head, it made your heart skip a beat.
“you’re a real brat, you know that?” he was smirking without humor now. he looked out at the traffic, then back at you. he shifted in his seat. “you want to talk about what’s going on in those panties? fine. but i’m not interested in just smelling them.”
he reached over. then his large hand gripped the back of your neck and pulled you toward him until you were inches from his face.
“if you’re so wet and so eager to make this complicated, then earn it,” he growled. “the traffic isn’t moving for at least twenty minutes. get down there and blow me. let’s see if that mouth of yours is as good at taking orders as it is at talking shit.”
you weren’t about to back down.
your heart was hammering against your ribs, but your pride was far too loud to let him win this round. you stared him right in those dark, mocking eyes.
“is that it?” you whispered. “you want me to work for it? how about you do your job first? if you want to get off, take them off me yourself. show me how much you actually want what’s inside them.”
toji’s expression shifted then. he didn’t say a word, though the smugness is still there. he just reached over, his massive hand disappearing under the hem of your skirt.
the way he did it like an expert made you gasp.
his fingers hooked into the waistband of your lace panties and dragged them down your thighs, then he tossed them onto the dashboard after.
he didn’t pull away. instead, he pressed his palm flat against your soaking pussy now. his fingers were calloused and big, and he began a slow massage; grinding the heel of his hand into your clit while he watched your eyes blown wide with shock
“ah-uhmm,” you moaned involuntarily.
“you’re fucking drowning, aren’t you?” he grunted, feeling the wetness of your precum coating his fingers.
he withdrew his hand, showing his glistening and dripping fingers.
he didn’t waste a drop. with his other hand, he reached into his pants and freed his dick. and your jaw dropped. it was already thick and standing proud, throbbing with vein-mapped weight.
you watched, mesmerized, as he took your precum from his fingers and smeared it slowly up the length of his own dick, glazing the head until it shone in the dim light of the car.
then, he reached for the lace panties on the dash. he stuffed them into his mouth, biting down on the fabric, as he inhaled your scent directly while he worked. his eyes stayed locked on yours, as he reached back down and buried a thick finger deep into your pussy.
he pumped three his fingers inside you, forcing more of your precum to spill out so he could use it to keep wetting himself. he was being deliberate, showing you exactly how much of a degenerate he was. he wasn’t just taking what he wanted; he was using your own body to prep himself, all while biting down on your underwear like an animal.
he leaned back, and gestured with a tilt of his head toward his dripping, rock-hard dick. even with the fabric in his mouth, the command was clear.
the challenge was over. you didn’t need another word from him and the sight of your own fluid being smeared over his thick, throbbing dick was enough to break whatever restraint you had left.
you scrambled over the center console, you no longer cared if your skirt was riding up to your hips as you dropped to your knees on your seat and the other leg was supporting your whole weight in your own footwell.
as soon as you took him into your mouth, you realized exactly why your mother was so addicted. the head of his dick was broad, stretching your lips as you struggled to take the full width of him. you swirled your tongue around the rim, tasting salty and your own precum, before sinking your throat onto him.
“fuck,” toji groaned. he didn’t play nice. instead, he reached down and fisted his hand into your hair, locking his fingers near the roots as he pulled your head back to look at you. “look at you. the little princess on her knees. you’ve been wanting this dick since the first night you stood outside that door, haven’t you?”
he didn’t wait for an answer.
he began to shove his hips forward, meeting your mouth with a brutal pace. his other left hand didn’t stay still. he reached down between your legs, finding your pussy again and buried two thick fingers deep inside you, hooking them upward to find the spot that made your toes curl.
the car was filled with the sound of his moans and the wet slaps of your mouth against his groin.
toji was shameless, tilting his head back against the headrest, tightening his jaw as he watched the traffic through the windshield while his step-daughter sucked him off.
“suck it harder,” he growled, as he tightened his grip on your hair, forcing you to take him deeper, hitting the back of your throat. “use that tongue. i want to feel every bit of that expensive education you’re getting. show me how much of a slut you can be when your mom isn’t looking.”
his fingers inside you were relentless, finger-fucking you with speed that matched the aggressive thrusts of his cock in your mouth. he was stretching you out, grinding his thumb hard against your clit, making you shake and wet yourself more.
your saliva was even dripping down his balls as you tried to keep up his animalistic pace.
“yeah, just like that,” he hissed as a guttural moan escaped him when he felt your throat clench around him. “fucking brat. you’re even tighter than she is.”
he was beginning to lose that smug composure from ragged stabs as you worked him. he was close, and he wasn’t planning on pulling out.
the car was so full of the smell of sex, even the windows fogged over as toji’s fingers worked you.
you were losing your mind, your tongue was dancing around the head of his dick while his three fingers hammered in and out of your pussy. he was hitting that specific spot over and over that had you gasping around him while your eyes rolled back.
“fuck, you’re so sensitive,” his voice was kind of breaking as he felt your internal muscles start to squeeze his fingers. “you’re gonna go, aren’t you? do it, brat. give it all to me.”
he increased the pace, making his thumb crush your clit while his fingers were buried deep, and that was it.
you buckled, as a violent wave of pleasure crashed over you as you squirted.
a hot spray of your juices hit his hand and soaking into the leather seat. you were shaking, letting out a muffled moan vibrating against his dick as your body gave up everything.
toji didn’t stop. he let out a moan of his own too while he watched you come. he withdrew his dripping fingers from your pussy, with your cream and the remnants of your squirt.
and without a second thought, he brought his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers clean, tasting you while he watched you tremble.
the sight of him eating you out of his own palm while his dick was still buried in your throat was the final straw. he was right there.
“don’t you dare move,” he growled, slamming his hand back into your hair to lock your head in place.
he didn’t let you pull away to catch your breath. instead, he surged forward, bucking his hips more. he let out a long, loud groan that echoed off the glass as he finally came, his dick was throbbing violently in your mouth.
he pumped load after load of hot cum directly into the back of your throat, forcing you to take every bit of him while he stared down shamelessly.
he stayed there for a long moment, pulsing inside your mouth as the last of his cum spilled over your tongue.
when he finally pulled out, his dick was glistening. he leaned back against the seat, completely unfazed by the fact that the traffic had finally started to move.
he wiped a stray drop of spit from his lip as he looked at you, messy and unhinged on your seat.
toji didn’t offer a hand to help you up. instead, he just watched you scramble back into the passenger seat, while your face was flushed and your lips were swollen. he reached over, his thumb swiping a thick smear of his own cum from the corner of your mouth, and then he licked it off his skin right in front of you.
“clean yourself up,” he muttered as he shifted the car into gear. “you look like a mess, and i’m not the one explaining to your mother why you’ve got my cum all over your face.”
the weeks that followed were pure unhinged madness.
your mother didn’t suspect a thing, and of course you made sure she will never know.
she had no idea that every time she touched toji’s arm or laughed at his dry jokes, you were tasting him in the back of your throat.
the hunger didn’t fade; it mutated.
it became a fever that burned through your skin.
now, the nightly ritual in the hallway wasn’t enough.
the second you hear them fucking, you’d lock the door and strip off spreading your legs wide while you’re buried in your own comforter.
you were losing it.
you’d jam three fingers deep into your pussy, moving them with the same violent thrusts toji had used in the car. you’d close your eyes and scream into your pillow, imagining it wasn’t your own hand, but his big, scarred palm pinning you down.
you’d visualize him lifting you up, as he shoved that massive, thick dick into you until you were breaking. you wanted to be fuck out senseless by him.
and by the mere thought of it is making your back arch, hips bucking against the air, sobbing quietly as you work yourself.
“toji,” you’d whisper into the dark. “fuck, toji, please.”
you were obsessed with the mental image of him eating you out and the way he had tasted your cum off his fingers in the car. you’d rub your clit until it was sensitive, imagining his mouth there instead while he looked up at you with those dead, shameless eyes.
you were a wealthy, educated girl with everything at your fingertips, and here you were, acting like a starving animal for your mother’s fiance. you’d listen to her moans through the wall, and instead of disgust, you felt a murderous envy.
you wanted to rip her out of that bed and take her place, to feel the full size of him until you couldn’t remember your own name.
by the time you finally came, your sheets would be tangled and soaked.
you’d be left shivering in the dark, while your heart hammering against your ribs, recovering from your sexual adrenaline like a trapped bird.
the day your mother was set to leave again couldn’t come fast enough. now, she stood in the foyer with her luggage stacked by the door. she was looking at you with that same piercing, suspicious gaze.
“i’ll be gone for four days,” she said as she adjusted her coat. she looked up the stairs toward the master suite where toji was likely still asleep, then back at you. “remember what we talked about. don’t go looking for trouble.”
you didn’t even look up from your phone, you just kept scrolling aimlessly just to avoid her eyes. “yeah, yeah. have a safe flight or whatever.”
“i’m serious,” she snapped, stepping closer until she was in your space. “don’t let that restless habit of yours ruin things. he’s not a toy.”
“i heard you the first ten times, mom. just go,” you muttered.
truth is, your heart is already racing at the thought of being completely alone with toji again. you didn’t care about her safety or her trip; you just wanted her out of the way.
the moment the car pulled out of the driveway, you spiraled.
the adrenaline was so bothersome in your chest, making your hands shake. you bolted to your bathroom, stripping your clothes off and stepping into the shower.
you turned the water to a freezing temperature, trying to shock your system, but it didn’t work. your hands were all over yourself, fingers digging into your pussy aggressively. you were panting, splashing water everywhere, desperate to dull the itch that had been building.
you wanted to at least calm the fuck down. as if toji’s dick would run away or something.
finally, you stepped out, dripping wet and shivering. you threw on a silk robe, barely tying the belt, and stormed back into your bedroom.
you stopped dead.
toji was there. he was lounging in your armchair, one leg crossed over the other. he had an unlit cigarette between his lips. he didn’t look surprised when he saw you, he looked like he’d been waiting.
you didn’t ask why he was in your room. you didn’t even ask how he got in.
you walked straight over to him and without a word, you reached for the belt of your robe and yanked it open, letting it slide off your shoulders and pool on the floor, leaving you completely naked in front of him.
you climbed onto his lap, straddling his thick thighs, and you wrapped your hands firmly around his throat, choking him.
“i don’t give a fuck about her anymore,” you whispered desperately. “and i don’t give a fuck about her warnings. i fucking missed your dick, toji. stop acting like you aren’t starving for this and just put it in me.”
toji let out a low chuckle that vibrated against your chest. his hands came up, gripping your waist and looked up at you with a shameless smirk.
“you really are a fucking monster, aren’t you?” he rumbled.
toji didn’t move to take his clothes off, he just sat there, letting you do all the work with your hands roaming frantically over his chest, feeling the hard ridges of his muscles through his shirt.
you can’t get enough of him, so you leaned down, biting at his neck while you began to grind your soaking pussy right against his clothed dick.
“fuck, toji,” you whimpered, feeling his buldge tease your clit. “it’s so—ah!—it’s so big.”
toji’s hands slid from your waist down to your ass, squeezing the cheeks and tilting your pelvis harder into him.
he let out a low groan. “you talk too much, kid. you really think you can handle the real thing? you were shaking just from a finger in the car.”
“shut up,” you gasped, grinding even faster. the feeling of his pants against your bare pussy was driving you insane. “i don’t care. i want you to—oh god—i want you to break me. i want to feel every inch of you until i can’t—fuck!”
your sentence was cut off by a moan as toji suddenly bucked his hips upward, fucking you with his clothed cock.
“you’re so fucking wet,” he pointed out. “i can feel you soaking through my goddamn jeans. you’re desperate, aren’t you? a little obsessed monster.”
you leaned down to find his lips, while your hands were fumbling with his belt. you were whimpering now. “please, toji. just... fuck, i need it. i need—ah, god, yes!”
he had reached down to find your clit, and played with your clit using his thumb.
he was watching you roll your eyes while he massaged your clit up and down with his thumb. the sight of your gaping mouth made his dick so angry that it wanted to escape his jeans.
“you want it?” he growled a shameless moan as you finally got his zipper down and his dick sprang free, pulsing against your stomach. “then take it. let’s see if you can actually—hngh—take all of me.”
toji didn’t wait for another moment and reached down, he hooked his arms under your knees and hauled you upward as he stood.
you wrapped your arms around his thick neck instinctively for support, your legs are spread wide for him now, leaving you completely open and vulnerable.
he lined himself up and drove into you with one singular, devastating thrust.
“fuck!” you screamed, snapping your head back, and your eyes blowing wide instantly. the size of him felt like he was splitting you in two.
the first few thrusts were painful, but you were fantasizing about this very dick for a month now. you realistically expected it to hurt before, how the fuck would it not hurt if he was this big? you’d thought.
toji let out an animalistic moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he continued to move. he didn’t hold back. he slammed into you relentlessly, driving his dick into your pussy with an intent to reach your cervix every time.
every impact made your breasts bounce violently, and the sight of them made his pupils dilate with a sick kind of pride.
“you’re—hngh—you’re so fucking tight,” toji rasped. “even tighter than in the car. how is a brat like you—fuck!—this built for me?”
you couldn’t even form words anymore. your face was a mask of pure, unhinged ecstasy.
even your tongue was darting out to lick your lips.
you were a girl who should have been at uni today, and instead, you were being hammered into a wall by the man who was supposed to be your stepfather.
the dynamic was twisted, and you loved every second of it.
he was your mother’s future husband, a man brought in to provide for her needs, yet here he was. he wasn’t just fucking you, he was desecrating your mother’s property, and the way he looked at you told you he knew exactly how much he was ruining you.
“does she know?” toji groaned, as his pace was becoming more frantic. his dick is hitting your cervix with every brutal shove, and he seemed to not get enough of it as much as you do. “does your mom know her little girl—ah, fuck—sounds like a goddamn whore when i’m inside her? you like being my little secret, don’t you?”
“yes—ah!—yes, toji, fuck!” your fingernails dug into the muscles of his back. “ i’m—oh god—fuck, just keep... keep breaking me!”
he let out a jagged laugh between his moans. the slaps of your ass hitting his pelvis was also getting louder as he felt your walls pulsating and squeezing him.
“you’re fucking crazy,” he hissed. “and i’m never—hngh—letting you go.”
toji dropped your legs and flipped you around. he shoved you down onto the edge of your bed, pressing your face into the duvet while your ass was hiked high in the air.
he licked his lips as he stared at the view. his dick was even more alive now it actually hurts. you were a fucking work of art that he gets to fuck.
he gripped a handful of your wet hair, pulling your head back until your spine arched painfully, and slammed back into you from behind.
“fuck!” your scream was muffled by the pillow.
the angle was deeper and more invasive now. every time he lunged forward, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed in corners of your room.
toji was completely undone now. the bored facade was gone, replaced by an animal that was shamelessly obsessed with the way you felt. “look at you,” he growled, “on your knees—hngh—just like i knew you’d be. you’re so much worse than your mother. you’re—fuck!—you’re a goddamn addict.”
the thought of your mother flashed through your mind, but it didn’t bring guilt. it brought a sick, ecstatic rush. you were being claimed by the man she brought into the family to fill a void, and he was filling you instead.
it was a deep betrayal. you were his step-daughter, the one he was supposed to protect, but now he was treating your pussy like a piece of meat he owned.
“i’m yours, toji!—ah, ah!—” you screamed as your fingers clawed at the sheets, almost tearing it. your face was distorted, eyes squeezed shut as your head thrashed against his grip. “fuck me harder! break it—fuck—break everything!”
toji let out a long moan that sounded like a snarl as he increased the pace, his hand never let go of your hair, keeping you pinned as he hammered into you.
his eyes were everywhere. especially the part where your breasts were swinging wildly and while your body was vibrating with the force of his thrusts.
“i’m gonna—hngh—i’m gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he hissed. “you hear me? no one’s ever gonna—fuck—touch you like this.”
you felt the pressure building, that itch inside you were starting to become restless, like it wanted to be free that you started to shake,making your pussy clench so hard it forced a groan out of him. “toji, i’m—oh god—i’m cumming!”
you buckled and your body erupted with a jetting squirt soaking the sheets and his thighs as you came. at the exact same moment, toji let out a final, deafening moan, gripping on your thigh harder as he buried himself to the hilt.
he thrusts his hips one last time, pinning you down as he pumped load after load of cum deep into your aching pussy.
he stayed there for a long time, just letting his dick pulse inside you as the silence returned to the room. the only sound was your heavy and sharp breaths.
“you’re a mess,” he finally muttered and leaned down to bite the back of your neck.
you had both crashed into a deep, drug-like sleep, after all those hours of fucking. you were like animals in heat who refused to stop unless your bodies could not take it anymore. in return, you were given the kind of sleep that only comes after your body has been completely emptied out.
when you finally woke up, the sun was already setting. you’re surprised to even wake up after just a few hours, because you’d expected to at least sleep for the next 12 hours based on how fucking aggressive toji got with you.
you sat in the kitchen now, wrapped in a clean robe, picking at a plate of pasta. as you ate, your mind was a mess.
if you think about it, you’re beautiful and filthy rich. you had guys at uni who would literally crawl through glass just to take you on a date. and yet, none of them mattered. why?
the thought that toji was nearly ten years older than you didn’t disgust you. instead, it fueled you, and that’s exactly why you’re questioning your taste in men now.
your resolve was gone, you don’t even remember if that resolve existed in the first place. you were completely out of it, you did not care about the boundaries you’ve crossed by getting it with him, and you did not try to think too much of the consequences that might happen if your mother finds out.
no shit.
next thing you know, toji was walking into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
his hair was a mess, and his skin was covered with red marks where your fingernails had dragged across his back and chest. some hickeys are also peeking from his neck and collarbone. he looked bored, as if he hadn’t just spent the last six hours systematically ruining you.
he leaned against the kitchen island, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you eat. his presence alone made the room feel smaller.
“you’re still awake,” he muttered huskily, still carrying sleep in his voice. “i figured you’d be out for the night after that.”
‘yeah, i figured too,’ you’d think. now that he mentioned it, you might still be carrying that pack of adrenaline in your system, that’s why you woke up early. and seeing him almost naked in front of you reminded you of how strong that adrenaline is.
you weren’t even ovulating to begin with.
“i’m hungry,” you said simply, as your eyes wander slowly over the hard lines of his stomach, the way his muscles rippled even when he was just standing still. “you worked me pretty hard.”
you twirled a bit of pasta onto your spoon and held it out toward him. toji didn’t move for a second and just stared at you, checking to see if you were being sarcastic. then, he leaned in, parting his lips as he took the food from your hand.
you watched his jaw work as he chewed, tracing the thick column of his throat as he swallowed.
you were internally devouring him.
starting from his scars, the sheer size of him, the way he looked at you like you were a problem he needs to run away from.
the dynamic was sick.
and in your mind, he’s all yours. flesh, bones, and soul. all of him. yours.
“good?” you whispered as your thumb ghosted near his lip to catch a stray bit of sauce.
toji reached out, catching your wrist. he licked the sauce off your thumb, without breaking eye contact.
“it’ll do,” he said. “but i can think of something else i’d rather be tasting.”
you didn’t need to rush; you needed to be consumed. your mother is four days away from coming home. so, you’re taking your fucking time with toji.
he reached out, hooking his hands under your armpits and hoisted you onto the marble counter. your plate of pasta was pushed aside, nearly clattering to the floor, as he stepped between your thighs and forced them wide open, pinning your knees side by side.
“fuck the food,” he growled.
he dropped to his knees and his massive chest filled the gap between your legs.
when you felt his hot breath touching your pussy, you let out a jagged moan. he wasn’t even eating you yet, and you’re already feeling this way.
you reached down, tangling your fingers desperately in his messy hair, pulling him closer as if you could fuse your bodies together. the sight of him burying his face in you was one of your answered prayers. at this point, you’re almost convinced that someone, somewhere is granting your fuckass wishes.
when toji licked you, it wasn’t a gentle lap, it was a broad stroke of his tongue from the bottom of your opening all the way up to your clit.
you arched your back. “toji—ah!—god, you... you eat so fucking good.”
he was relentless.
his mouth was everywhere, swirling his tongue around your clit while he sucked on your sensitive folds. the wet, slapping sounds of his mouth filled the kitchen, punctuated by his own muffled moans of satisfaction.
he was eating you like he was starving, like he wanted to taste every single drop of the obsession you had for him.
“does it—hngh—does it taste good, toji?” your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him harder against you. “is it better than her? tell me it’s better.”
toji didn’t pull his mouth away, but he reached up with his hand, shoving three thick fingers deep into your dripping pussy. he started pumping them violently, stretching you out while his tongue continued to lash at your clit.
“shut up and leak for me,” he muttered against your skin.
you were losing your mind. the combination of his fingers hammering inside you and his mouth working you over was too much.
you were whimpering, your legs were shaking against his shoulders as you felt the pressure build.
you didn’t want it to end. you wanted to stay on this counter forever, being used by him while the rest of the world ceased to exist.
“toji, please—ah!—i'm gonna—fuck!”
your hips were jerking uncontrollably as you came for god knows how much that day, a hot spray of your juices hit his face and toji chose to stay right there, lapping up every bit of your climax until you were both left breathless in the quiet kitchen.
the next three days were a series of pure depravity. the house didn’t feel like a home anymore; it was a cage, and you were both animals.
the boundaries of who he was to you had been completely incinerated. there was no conversation that didn’t end in a moan and no room that remained untouched by your cums.
You just fucked until your skin was bruised and your voice was hoarse, and still, it wasn’t enough.
the risk only made the adrenaline sharper.
at one point, your mother called him on video. toji sat on the edge of the bed, he was holding bored facade as he spoke to her about wedding plans and flight times. he looked perfectly normal from the waist up, but hidden beneath the camera's view, you were on your knees between his legs.
you were giving him a slow, lewd blowjob. purposely locking your eyes locked on his as you swirled your tongue around the head of his dick, trying your absolute best to make him crack. toji didn’t flinch, but as a form of response, his hand found the back of your head, fingers digging into your hair as he grunted slightly.
then there were the online classes.
you’d be sitting at your desk, the camera was turned off with your reason of not feeling well (it worked), nodding along to a lecture on corporate law.
while the lecture was going on, toji was behind you, hunched over as he hammered his dick into you from behind.you had to be very controlled with your moans unless you wanted the whole class to hear your animalistic moans. so, you clench your jaw to keep from screaming as he hits your cervix with every thrust.
the bathroom was the absolute war zone.
you’d be trying to wash the scent of him off you, only for him to kick the door open and pin you against the cold tile.
you nearly broke the marble sink as he bent you over it, he was going at it hard, and you’re taking him every bit of his thrusts. the steam filled the room as he fucked you in positions that made your bones ache.
even the kitchen wasn’t safe. you’d be standing at the stove, trying to focus on cooking a simple dinner, when you’d feel his presence behind you. without a word, he’d hitch your skirt up and drop to his knees, his tongue immediately darting out to lick your ass out of nowhere.
you’d gasp, nearly dropping the pan as he worked you over right there on the floor. but in the end, you loved every fucking second.
it was a mess.
you were an obsessed brat, and he was a shameless guy who had found a new, more dangerous way to earn his keep.
by the final night, the house was simply a tomb of your hundred different encounters. you were exhausted, sore, and completely addicted to the man who was about to become your father.
warnings: explicit sexual content, mdni, rough sex, public/semipub sex, non-con/dub-con, heavy praise/degradation, overstimulation, car/parking garage sex.
sukuna is the kind of guy who’s always over in the corner of the gym looking like he’s about to start a fight with the equipment, just covered in tattoos and muscles and everything. not to mention that he’s got these big biceps that would look better if he let you leave a bite mark to it.
you’ve known him for a bit because you’re both there at the same ungodly hour. you aren’t ‘friends’ or whatever (because he’s an asshole) but you guys talk. mostly because you’re the only person with enough balls to talk back when he starts being a prick. everyone else in the gym treats him like a god.
today was leg day, and you were feeling yourself. you had the bar loaded up for some deep squats, but you were pushing your limit and needed a spot.
you saw him nearby, just finishing a set looking all sweaty.
“hey, dickhead,” you called out, wiping your neck with a towel. “i’m hitting a new heavy set. come spot me.”
he didn't even turn his head. he just let out this annoyed growl. “do i look like a personal trainer to you? fuck off. i’m busy.”
he’s such a dick, but god, he’s cracked. he’s not the overly buff type, his body is well proportioned just right in all the best places, which made him look more attractive. but you aren’t exactly slacking either, and you’re just as dedicated to your gains as he is to his.
“oh, i get it,” you said, leaning against the rack. “you’re worried about the view, huh? afraid if you get too close, you might get a little... distracted? don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone if you get hard. it’s a natural reaction to a dumpy this elite.”
that did it. he stopped what he was doing immediately. his ego is so massive that questioning his ‘discipline’ is the fastest way to piss him off. he dropped his weights and he walked over to you, looking like he wanted to kill you.
“you have a big fucking mouth,” he muttered, stepping right into your space. “get under the bar. let’s see if all that work you do on your ass is actually good for something or if you’re just a loud-mouth brat.”
you didn’t back down. you got under the bar, braced your core, and unracked the weight.
as you started to drop down, sukuna stepped in way too close. his chest was basically pressed against your back now, and you could smell him from this distance. which is not helping.
you invited him with the intent to make him lose his control, but it seems like you’re getting a taste of your own medicine.
“lower,” he demanded right in your ear.
when you reached the bottom of the squat, his hands suddenly clamped onto your waist.
his palms were so huge that his fingers practically met around your stomach. he wasn’t being careful at all. he even grabbed your hips and forced them down even further, making you feel every bit of that deep ass stretch.
“keep your chest up, damn it,” he hissed.
he was so close you could feel his breath on your neck sliding his hands down a bit, making his thumbs dig into the sides of your glutes to check your form.
the way he was gripping you was completely unfiltered and he was basically manhandling you into the right position.
you pushed back up, but the weight felt a thousand times heavier because of how tight he was holding you. on the third rep, you felt it. since he was standing right behind you to catch the weight if you failed, his groin was pressed right against your ass. and he was definitely not soft.
it was a hard, pressing right into your glutes through the thin fabric of your leggings. he didn’t even try to hide it or back off. if anything, he leaned into it more as you descended. he was literally getting off on the friction and the view from right above you.
“what was that you said about self control?” he whispered and let his hands slide fully over your ass as you struggled to rack the bar, digging in deep for a second as if he was marking his territory.
once you finally racked the weight, you turned around, totally flushed and breathless. he was standing there with a wild look in his eyes, and the bulge in his gym shorts was so obvious because he obviously is so packing that it was actually insane.
he didn’t look embarrassed at all; he looked like he was about to skip the rest of his workout and drag you out of there.
“your set is done,” he warned. “now get out of my sight before i forget we’re in public.”
he turned around and he headed straight for the gym bathrooms.
he was losing his goddamn mind and he could feel the lingering softness of your skin on his palms and the way your ass had felt pressed right against his groin.
he kicked the stall door shut and locked it with a hurried click. he didn’t even sit down. he just remained standing there, leaning one hand against the cold tile wall while the other went straight for the waistband of his shorts.
he ripped them down along with his gray boxers, and his angry dick snapped out, already leaking and pulsing. it was rock hard, thick, and twitching with need.
he wrapped his hand around himself, gripping it tightly. he started slow, just a few sensual slides to spread his leaking juices, using his thumb to rub the head as he let out a frustrated breath.
“fuck,” he hissed, closing his eyes.
immediately, he was back in that squat rack. in his head, he wasn’t just spotting you anymore. he was imagining you turned around, legs spread wide, while he hoisted you up against the metal bar. he pictured your face while you looked down at him.
the pace of his hand picked up. he started jerking himself faster and imagined the weight of your breasts in his hands. like how they’d feel heavy and warm as he squeezed them, at the same time, his thumbs would flick over your nipples through that gym top.
then he pictured you straddling him right there on the gym floor, as you started bouncing on him.
he could practically feel the way your ass would shake and flex with every downward thrust. in his head, he was reaching up and clamping onto your ass cheeks, digging his fingers into the muscle and pulling you down harder, faster, until you were bottoming out on him.
“yeah, keep moving like that, you little brat,” he muttered to the empty stall.
he was going full speed now, biting his own lip so hard as he pumped himself, even his hips were jerking forward instinctively. he’s so fucking desperate. and the way he is so turned on, he could’ve fucked you right there and then earlier.
the image of you riding him while you gripped his shoulders, was making his brain short-circuit. he imagined the wet, slapping sound of your skin hitting his thighs, the way you’d moan his name right into his ear while he absolutely buried himself in you.
he was right on the edge now as he pictured you arching your back, chest pushed out, while he buried his face between your tits and just went to town on your ass.
“fuck—”
with one last a series of frantic strokes, he boiled over. he groaned out loud as he came hard, his dick was pulsating hard that his cum was hitting the back of the stall door and his own hand.
he stayed there for a minute, forehead pressed against the tile, panting like he’d just ran a marathon. he cleaned himself up with some rough paper towels, looking absolutely disgusted with how much power you had over him.
when he finally walked back out onto the gym floor, he looked completely dangerous.
he caught your eye across the room while you were finishing up, and the look he gave you was pure, unadulterated filth. he didn’t say a word, but the way he wiped a stray bead of sweat off his lip told you exactly what he’d been doing.
he went straight back to his rack, trying to act like he wasn’t completely rattled, but you weren’t about to let him off that easily.
you moved over to the cables right in his line of sight. you knew exactly what you were doing when you started hitting your kickbacks, slow and controlled, making sure to squeeze at the top of every rep so your glutes flared perfectly under those tight leggings. every time he went to lift, he’d catch a glimpse of you in the mirror: arching your back, pushing your chest out, looking like a total brat.
you could see his veins popping in his neck as he tried to focus on his overhead press. he was basically vibrating with frustration, and every time you’d catch his eye in the reflection, you’d just give him a little smirk and go deeper into your stretch.
finally, you finished up. you grabbed your jug, wiped your neck, and headed for the exit. you timed it perfectly, when he’s just finishing his last set, looking absolutely spent and pissed off.
you were waiting at the elevator when the doors slid open. you stepped in, and right before they closed, a heavy hand blocked the sensor. sukuna stepped in next, taking up every inch of the small space.
you leaned back against the handrail, looking him up and down. “So,” you started playfully. “how was your little trip to the bathroom, sukuna? did it go well? did you imagine me good enough?”
his head snapped toward you. he didn’t say a word, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the railing.
“did you cum a lot?” you whispered, stepping closer until you were in his personal space. “you look a little less tense, but i can still see that bulge. i bet you were thinking about me bouncing on you, weren’t you?”
“shut your mouth, brat. you have no idea what you’re playing with.”
“no, you shut up,” you countered, poking his chest. “it’s honestly so unfair. you get to go off and have your fun in a stall thinking about me, and what do i get? i missed out on all the fun while i was out there doing all the work. you’re a selfish prick, sukuna. you owe me.”
he looked like he was about to explode. “i owe you?”
“yeah,” you said, reaching up and grabbing the collar of his shirt, bunching the fabric in your fist. “make it up to me.”
before he could even get a comeback, you slammed your lips against his. it was a bruising, hungry kiss that made him immediately lose all his fake ‘discipline.’
sukuna let out a muffled groan into your mouth and hauled you up against him so hard. he kissed you back like he wanted to devour you, inserting his tongue against yours desperately. he didn’t care anymore if he’s acting like a pervert, your kisses made him lost his resolve. that what’s left in his mind right now is his dick, being inserted in your pussy.
his hands went straight for your ass, squeezing the muscle so hard. he had you pinned against the elevator wall, crushing you in the best way possible, and finally giving you the ‘fun’ you’d been teasing him for all morning.
when you got out of the elevator and the second your back hit the cold metal of his car, he was pinning you there with his entire weight. he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, hoisting you up so high your foot was dangling in the air and you were completely, shamelessly open for him.
“you want to talk shit in the elevator? you want to play games?” he growled, licking your lips and cheeks with his tongue. “fine. let’s see how long you last when i’m actually trying.”
he didn’t use a drop of lube. he just grabbed his pulsing, thick dick and shoved it into you in one brutal motion.
you gasped as he bottomed out, stretching you so wide it felt like you were going to snap.
sukuna immediately started slamming into you, frantically hitting your hips with his, creating the wet slaps that echoed through the empty parking lot. and because your leg was hooked over his arm, he had the perfect angle to just bury himself as deep as possible, hitting your sweet spot with every single shove.
you tried to let out a loud ass moan, but sukuna wasn’t having it. he smashed his mouth back onto yours, sliding his tongue deeply and aggressively, basically swallowing your voice. you were literally eating each other out with your tongues fighting for dominance while he wrecked you from below.
he was holding your waist hard and possessive with his free hand and every time he thrust, his car rocked on its suspension, resulting to the metal groaning under the pressure of him pinning you against the door.
he was breathing like a goddamn animal, and it was hitting your cheek whenever he pulled back for a microsecond to bite your lip.
he picked up the pace, his movements mirrored the pent up frustrations and desperation of letting off you’ve built up in him from all your teasing.
he was sweating now, not because he’s getting tired, (he is far from it), but because he feels like burning. his heartbeat could practically make a cardiologist panic by how abnormally fast it is. the adrenaline your pussy is giving him is actually insane.
as he worked you over, his dick felt like a hot iron rod inside you. he was completely cracked and that no one should be able to go this hard after a full leg day, but it seems sukuna wasn’t human.
he kept you pinned there, even when your leg started to shake from the strain, while he continued to fuck you open in the middle of the parking lot, you can’t even moan properly because he was busy sucking on your whole mouth.
then, he let out a frustrated sound against your mouth and pulled up, he suddenly shifted his weight, dropping your leg from his shoulder just to scoop both of your thighs up into his massive arms.
he deadlifted you off the ground like you weighed absolutely nothing, pinning your back against the side of the car. with your legs spread wide and locked around his waist, he was basically holding your entire world in his hands. you felt the cold air hit your sensitive pussy for a split second before he stepped in and slammed himself back into you, even deeper and more violent than before.
“wrap your legs tighter, brat,” he demanded because he looked like he wouldn’t care even if you fall, as long as his dick is buried inside you he won’t give a fuck about you.
he was fucking you with everything he had now, using his strength to drive himself upward into you. every time he thrust, he lifted you a few inches higher against the car door, before slamming you back down onto his dick.
the sound was insane. the wet slapping of him hitting your ass over and over, and the messy sounds of you trying to keep your mouth on his. he was still trying to swallow your moans, using his tongue to travel around the smallest spaces of your mouth. he was holding you by the meat of your thighs, digging his fingers in so deep that you knew you’d have handprints there for a week.
“how are you still so fucking tight, ah fuck,” he hissed, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “look at that messy face, you sure love my dick huh.”
he was hitting your cervix with every thrust, his thick ass dick was stretching you to the point of pain and pleasure being the exact same thing until he started shaking.
the whole garage was filled with the sound of him absolutely wrecking you against that car.
he let out one last groan as he grip your legs harder when he finally reached his climax. he slammed himself into you one last time, as he flooded you with everything he’d been holding back. he kept his dick buried deep, while his body twitched as he pumped loads of cum inside you.
you thought that was it.
but sukuna wouldn’t let you off easily.
the moment he pulled out, he just shifted his grip, keeping you pinned against that car door with one arm across your chest. he looked at you, totally blown out and shaking, and a dark, twisted smirk pulled at his lips.
“i’m not done with you yet, brat. you haven’t even made a mess for me,” he growled.
he reached up with his free hand and grabbed the hem of your sports bra, yanking it upward to free your breasts, but before you could even gasp, he leaned in and buried his face there. he latched onto one of your tits, sucking on the nipple and biting, swirling his tongue, and treating you like his personal toy.
while he was busy wrecking your chest, his other hand went down and immediately shoved two thick fingers deep inside you in one deep thrust.
you let out a muffled scream into the top of his head as he started fingering you with zero chill. he was being violent with it while hitting your g-spot over and over. his knuckles were also rubbing against your clit while he hooked his fingers inside you, stretching you out just like his dick had done moments ago.
“you’re so fucking wet,” he muttered against your skin, muffled by your breast as he switched to the other nipple, sucking even harder. “all that talk in the gym and look at you now. you’re a literal wreck.”
he picked up the pace and made his fingers work inside you faster. he was pushing his hand against you until you were arching your back off the car door, pulling on his hair because that’s where you can only express how good it felt. he was trying to make you cum so hard, and he was succeeding.
his thumb was absolutely hammering your clit, and with the way he was sucking on your tits and the violence of his fingers inside you, your body finally hit the limit.
you started to shake and your pussy clenched around his fingers.
“yeah, that’s it,” but he didn’t stop, he kept going, faster and deeper, forcing you to ride out the orgasm until your legs were giving out, and you were sobbing his name into the quiet garage.
he finally pulled his hand away, wet and dripping with your juices, and looked up with a look of pure, satisfied dominance. he wiped his hand on his own gym shorts, looking at you like you were the best workout he’d had in years.
genre: smut
wc: 6.3k
content warnings: strictly mdni (minors do not interact), explicit sexual content, unfiltered language, dirty talk, mating press, creampie, squirting, and praise kink.
disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and may be ooc (may not be)
you first saw choso on twitch a few months ago because he was at the top of the valorant category with twenty thousand people watching him.
you clicked on the stream because, honestly, the thumbnail was a bait. why? because it was him wearing a black sando and his biceps were huge. huge as in it’s taking up half the frame every time he adjusted his mouse or headset.
you first thought he’d be one of those streamers who faked a high-energy personality for donations.
well, he wasn’t.
someone could donate fifty bucks and ask for a shoutout, but choso wouldn’t even look at the camera.
that type of move would make the chat go feral.
they loved how much he didn’t care. and honestly? you do too.
and as you kept watching, you realized he wasn’t just an eye candy. that was just a bonus, because he was a very efficient player, the type who didn’t tilt or shout on every death or on every clutch. he played with a calm strategy that made the game look easy for a pvp.
he was the exact opposite of you and naturally, that made you want to mess with him.
you started showing up in the chat every single night, right when the viewer count hit its peak. the chat was usually a mix of people asking for his settings or complaining about the rank reset. choso would answer them, but his voice would always be flat.
“crosshair is 1-4-2-2. no, i don’t use a mousepad,” he’d say, eyes glued to the screen.
then there was you. you weren’t there for the gameplay. you playfully made it weird. while everyone else was talking about his headshot percentage, you were in the comments saying things like:
“choso, do you think your biceps could fit around my neck, or should i measure them first?”
he didn't really pay attention at first, but at some point, you know he read your comments out of the corner of his eye. even when he is trying to get a headshot or when he is doing nothing at all.
a week later: “choso, look at the camera and tell me i’m a good girl.”
most streamers would’ve banned you, but choso just let the comments slide past.
for weeks, he ignored you. if you’re being a menace in the comments, he’d just look at the screen in a completely detached stare.
on a friday night, he was in the middle of a match on haven, clutching a 1v3. the chat was moving fast, excited and pressured at the same time about what’s gonna happen next. then, you dropped a comment: “choso, your hair looks so soft. i bet it feels even better gripped between my fingers.”
he finished the round with an ace then he leaned back and didn’t look at the game. instead, he looked at the chat monitor and stayed silent for a long time, just watching your username scroll by.
“you’re very loud tonight,” he pointed out knowingly.
the chat started moving a mile a minute, half of them were calling you out and the other half were cheering you on. choso ignored all of them and was only focused on what you’d say next.
that was how it officially started.
you kept pushing it every time he went live. you became a regular fixture in his peripheral vision and every time you dropped a suggestive comment, he’d give this slight tilt of his head.
he’d visibly scroll back through the chat, looking for your comment until he found your username. he’d stay there for a good five seconds just staring at the screen, even while his teammates were dying in the background.
“you again,“ he’d say. “you have a very vivid imagination."
after that, you didn’t back down. every night, you were there.
choso could be in the middle of a crucial 1v4, while the chat would be flying and screaming about the scoreboard or asking for his crosshair settings.
someone would donate and comment: “choso, what’s the play here?“ he wouldn’t even answer them.
but when you comment: “i wonder if you’re this focused when you’re pinned between my legs, or if i could finally make you lose your aim.“
he’d get the last kill, and while the “round won" banner flashes across the screen, he’d immediately lean toward his second monitor where his chat it to find our what type of menace are you today.
he wouldn’t even reload his gun in-game.
“between your legs," he’d repeat. he’s not even doing anything yet, yet that sends a shiver down your spine. he didn’t even look shocked anymore, by that short span of time, he got used to your constant flirting. “you have a lot of confidence for someone who’s just a name on a scroll."
it became a thing. he’d be playing, and you’d be relentless.
one night, he was adjusting his headset, making his biceps flex so hard the veins were popping under the skin of his arms.
the chat was asking about his workout routine. and you typed: “those arms look like they were made for holding someone down. do you use that much force on everything you touch, choso?“
he paused. he actually let his character stand in the middle of a doorway, totally exposed to the enemy and looked at the camera, narrowing his eyes.
“only when it’s necessary," he answered.
the chat would go absolutely insane, but choso didn’t care. he was only looking for your purple-colored username. even during the most intense clutches, when most streamers are screaming at their teammates, he was calm.
someone asked, “choso, how do you deal with toxic teammates?“ he didn’t even read it because he was reading your latest comment: “i’ve been a very bad girl in the chat tonight. what are you going to do about it?“
he leaned back , reached up and slowly untied one of his ponytails, shaking out his dark, stringy hair before tying it back up even tighter. he didn’t take his eyes off the monitor.
“i think you know what i’d do," he said.
it wasn’t a joke.
because he looked genuinely intrigued by how far you’d push him. “but i’m not going to say it here. there's too many witnesses."
so, being the thirsty girl that you are, you decided to stay until the very end of his stream.
it was almost 3am and the viewer count had finally dropped from twenty thousand to a couple hundred die hards. choso’s hair is lopsided now, a bit messy, and he was leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head.
his biceps were still straining against that black sando, looking way too huge for someone who’d been sitting at a desk for six hours. as if playing the game was the workout itself for him.
“i’m out,” he muttered into the mic and briefly looked at the camera. “goodnight.”
he killed the stream and the screen went black.
you tossed your phone onto the bed, feeling that weird emptiness. you figured he’d just go to sleep and forget you existed until the next time you decided to be a problem in his chat.
then your phone buzzed.
you picked it up, expecting a notification from literally anyone else, but your heart actually skipped when you saw his verified handle at the top of your dms.
another truth is that you’d been sending him unhinged, thirsty messages for a month straigh. mostly jokes about his hands or what you’d do if he ever got you alone, but never even opened them. until now.
choso: you have a lot to say when there’s a crowd watching.
you stared at the screen for a second, then a grin slowly started spreading across your face. you typed back immediately.
you: oh, so you can read? i thought you were just pretty to look at.
choso: hard to ignore you. i looked at your profile tho. you play too? your clips aren’t bad.
you felt something electric creep up your neck. choso had no idea how much that affected you. it practically turned you out, like really? he visited/stalked your profile and even complimented your clips?
he had actually spent his post-stream cooldown stalking your page.
you: careful. keep talking like that and i’ll think you’re obsessed with me. and yeah, i play. i could probably carry you too.
choso: doubt it. play with me tomorrow. i want to see if you’re as loud in voice chat as you are in my dms.
this was the moment. you knew exactly how to push him.
you: but i don’t play for free. i’ve been staring at your arms for a month. i think i deserve a reward if i’m gonna carry you through a rank match.
choso: what do you want?
you: anything, maybe an abs pic? a real one. do that, and maybe i’ll consider joining your lobby.
the typing… bubbles appeared. then disappeared. then appeared again. your stomach was doing literally doing backflips.
it looked like you weren’t the only one rattled by that request.
choso: get on discord. if you win the first map, i’ll give you exactly what you’re looking for.
so you hopped on discord with 0 hesitation.
the second the call connected, you heard a long, heavy exhale. it wasn’t the sound of someone annoyed, rather it was the sound of a man trying to keep his cool. choso didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
“so,” he finally said. his voice was even deeper without the stream filters, it was grainy and calm… and private, like this tone is especially meant for your ears only. “you actually showed up.”
you laughed, clicking your mouse a few times to get settled. “you act like you didn’t want me here. where’s the lobby invite, big guy?”
“sending it now. we’re doing a 1v1 on ascent. first to ten,” he muttered. “if you win, you get the picture.”
you joined the game and it was just the two of you in the empty map. choso was playing chamber this time.
the moment the round started, the first few minutes were surprisingly quiet. you were both focused, but the tension in the call was insane.
every time you’d move, he was there. you also noticed he was playing slower than usual, almost like he was toying with you, watching how you moved.
“you’re idling,” he pointed out, though you didn’t know how he could tell cause you can’t spot him anywhere.
turns out, he had caught you in a crossfire as his crosshair is perfectly leveled at your head. but he didn’t shoot.
“i’m not shaking, i’m excited,” you shot back, trying to flick away. “don’t get cocky just because you have bigger arms than me.”
“thanks for the compliment,” he finally clicked.
headshot.
the score climbed to 9-9. it was supposed to be a chill game for you cause you literally asked for an abs pic half-joking.
and you didn’t expect him to take it seriously either.
you found yourself sweating and you thought all this better be worth it cause you’re working real hard for that abs picture of him.
you managed to plant the spike and hid behind a pillar while your heart was hammering against your ribs.
you heard his footsteps somewhere.
not because you’re observant enough, but because he wasn’t even hiding them.
“i know where you are,” he whispered into the mic. “give up. just ask nicely and maybe i’ll send it anyway.”
“never,” you countered.
you swung out, aiming for his head, but he was faster cause his aim was already on you this whole time.
another on point headshot.
then the screen turned gray. match over.
you sat back, letting out a frustrated groan. “good game, i guess?”
you heard a low, raspy sound from him this time. a real laugh.
it was only short, but it was there. and it made you feel things.
“you’re good,” choso said. you heard his chair creak, then the sound of fabric rustling. a second later, your phone buzzed on the desk.
you picked it up.
one, it was a photo.
two, it was a mirror selfie, taken in the dim light of his room.
three, his black sando was pulled up, gripped between his teeth, showing off sharp, cut abs and even giving you extra view of his deep v-line.
his other hand was holding the phone, showing the veins popping in his forearm.
choso: you lost. but i’m a man of my word.
“i thought i lost,” you whispered into the mic, staring at the screen.
“you did,” he answered. “the picture is a gift for giving me a good game.”
after that, it became a regular thing. he didn’t even have to ask anymore. whenever he finished his stream, he’d just drop a simple ‘get on’ in your dms, and you’d be there.
it was weird how quickly it became comfortable. you even get to learn his habits, like he wasn’t really cold and detached like what everyone saw on screen.
with you, he may be stoic, but he’s actually a gentleman, he’s caring, and he looks out for you most of the time.
“watch your left,” he’d mutter. “i’ve got you covered.”
it went on like that for weeks. a lot of late night calls, a lot of casual banter, and a lot of you teasing him until his ears turned red on stream.
like tonight, you guys had just finished a rough match and you were both tired, just sitting in the lobby in silence while listening to each other breathe.
“you’re quiet tonight,” he pointed out. “no smart comments?”
“i’m just thinking,” you said, leaning closer to your mic. “thinking about that picture you sent. and wondering if the rest of you is as solid as you look.”
the silence on his end was deafening. usually, he’d give a dry comeback, but this time, he let out a slow, shaky breath.
“you’re pushing it,” he whispered.
so after that night, things just kept escalating. it became your new normal: playing until our eyes burned, talking about everything and nothing.
his chat was still convinced that you were merely “gaming buddies” but the way he’d ignored a five hundred dollar donation just to hear you laugh told a different story.
then, a few days ago, you decided to test the waters outside of discord.
you posted a story on your private instagram. one of those mirror selfies where the lighting is just right, wearing something that left very little to the imagination.
choso didn’t comment, didn’t message you, he just liked it within two minutes and went radio silent.
you figured he was just being his usual stoic self, unphased and detached.
but when you were both in the middle of a slow match afterwards, choso cleared his throat out of nowhere and said…
“that thing you posted earlier,” he said. he sounded completely calm and his character wasn’t not even flinching as he held his crosshair steady. “the red looks good on you.”
you nearly choked on your drink. you didn’t think he’d actually bring it up, especially not while he was focused on a game.
“oh, so you were looking?” you teased with a smirk immediately growing on your face. “i thought you were too busy being a pro gamer to check my stories.”
“i have notifications on for you,” he casually said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“you screenshotted it, didn’t you? you wanted to keep it for later.” you leaned into the mic and whispered playfully.
there was a brief pause.
you expected him to deny it or get flustered like usual.
but you always underestimate choso, you almost forgot he can be as unhinged as you if he chose to be.
“maybe i did,” he answered. “it’s a good reference for when i’m not at my desk. what’s it to you?”
the sheer honesty of it caught you off guard. he wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“you’re so shameless,” you laughed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “if you liked that one so much, you should’ve just asked. i can send you way more like that. stuff i’d never post for the public to see.”
you heard his mouse click stop.
his character just stood there in the middle of the map, completely still. the game was still going on around him, but he didn’t seem to care anymore.
“is that a promise?” he asked. but if you listen closer, he almost sounded desperate.
choso had logged off the stream and the game was over, but you both moved over to a private call. the clicking of his mouse stopped, and you heard the heavy rustle of him throwing himself onto his bed.
he was still on his phone, talking with his muffled voice against the pillow.
“you’re still talking,” he rasped huskily.
“it’s nice to keep talking when it gets a reaction out of you,” you whispered.
you were laying in your own bed, and the fabric of your underwear was rubbing against you. then, an idea popped up in your head. “besides, i’m actually wearing that set from my story right now. the red lace. i bet you’re staring at that screenshot again, aren’t you?”
you heard him change positions and the sheets rustled loudly in your ear. “maybe i am.”
you giggled from that. the thought of him giving you the reaction you want and need is actually making you wet right now.
“are you gonna jerk off to it later?” you teased. “just thinking about me while you’re all alone in that big bed? it’s okay if you do. honestly, the thought of you doing that... it makes me want to touch myself too.”
the silence on the other end was immediate, like he did not expect you to actually be blunt about touching yourself and stuff, and the only thing you can hear right now is his shaky breathing.
“you think this is a joke,” he muttered, sounding uncertain. he was trying to find the right words to say. you were overpowering him and can’t seem to get over it.
“then do something about it,” you provoked, your hand slipped down past the waistband of your panties. “are you doing it right now? are you touching yourself while you listen to me? because i’m doing it. i’m touching my pussy right now, choso. it’s wet, and all i can think about is your hands.”
then you heard a low groan from his end. “fuck,” he hissed. “you’re actually going to be the death of me.”
“tell me what you’re doing,” you whispered, as your fingers started moving faster. “i want to hear it. are you hard for me, choso?”
choso stopped answering for a full minute. so you just stopped talking and listened too.
then you heard it.
a wet, squelching sound coming right through the mic. he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. he was breathing hard, in ragged exhales hitting and the sound of him stroking himself was so clear it made my head spin.
he was actually doing it.
choso, the guy who looked like he didn’t have a pulse on the stream, was losing his mind over you in the dark.
“that’s not fair,” you whispered shakily. “you’re sitting there listening to me and looking at my tits in that picture, and all i get is audio? i want to see too, choso.”
the squelching slowed down for a heartbeat. “what?” he rasped, his voice sounding completely wrecked.
“open your camera,” you said. even then, your fingers were still moving between your legs. “show me how you’re touching yourself for me. if you do, i’ll open mine and show you exactly what my pussy looks like while i’m thinking about you.”
you heard the rustle of sheets as he sat up. a second later, the discord video icon lit up.
there he was.
he was sitting back against his headboard, hair completely down, falling over his face in. he was shirtless, and his chest was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. the camera was angled down, showing one of his hands currently gripping his cock tightly, moving it up and down fast.
“ah.. fuck.” he moaned.
you didn’t say a word and just clicked your own camera on.
you were propped up on your pillows while your legs were spread wide. you had one hand pulled back to show off your breasts, purposely squeezing it for him making the red lace of the bra bend from your own touch, and the other hand was buried deep between your legs. you made sure he could see everything, especially the way your pussy was glistening and the way you were finger fucking yourself.
choso’s eyes went wide. he stopped breathing for a full three seconds.
“fuck,” he choked out. you noticed his grip tightening until his knuckles turned white. “you’re so much better than the pictures. you’re fucking perfect.”
he started moving again, faster now and more violent. he wasn’t looking at the ceiling anymore; he was staring right into the view you were giving him, watching you touch yourself as he stroked his own cock
you kept your eyes locked on him through the screen, your body was all itchy and sensitive as you spread your legs even wider. you used your free hand to pull your folds open, showing him how wet and swollen you were for him. choso’s eyes went dark as he watched you work yourself.
“ah... oh, choso, look,” you moaned, tossing your head against the pillow. you pushed three fingers deep inside, and the squelching sound from your end echoed in his. “it’s so hot. fuck, i wish these were your fingers. your thick fingers would feel so much nicer... ah!”
“fuck,” choso groaned, thumping his head back against the headboard.
his hand was moving so fast that it looked blurry on his cock, his muscles looked like they wanted to jump out of his chest and shoulders with every stroke. “ah, fuck, you’re so tight, i can see it. i want to be there. i want to stretch you out so bad.”
you let out a loud moan as you pumped your fingers in and out, rubbing your clit with your thumb too at the same damn time. “ah, ah, um, fuck! yes... do it, choso. stroke it for me. ah!”
the sound of his hand against himself got louder, wetter, and more desperate. he looked like a man possessed.
“i’m gonna... ah, fuck, i’m so close,” he rasped, he can barely say anything. he was so drowned in the pleasure that he felt like he’s about to lose his mind. he was just intently staring at your pussy on the screen like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “don’t stop. keep going. ah, ah... fuck!”
and you were losing it too, your toes curling and your body is tensing up as you hit your climax. you arched your back, trying to bury your fingers buried deeper as your pussy started throbbing your juices. “choso, ah—fuck, i’m gonna—ah!”
your body buckled and your hips were jerking uncontrollably as you started to squirt too much that the fluid hit your hand and the sheets.
you were shaking and involuntarily letting out messy gasps, but you kept your eyes on the screen because you didn’t want to miss him.
choso was right there with you, eyes rolled back slightly, and his face contorted in a way you’d never seen on stream. he was still stroking himself violently, almost desperate to cum.
“ah, fuck—” he groaned, a sound that came from the back of his throat. his body tensed up, and he arched his back off the bed as he finally came.
you watched as he pulsed. his cum hit his own abs and chest in thick, white arcs. you swore it was a religious experience. he was so fucking hot that you wanted to rub your clit from that sight alone even if you knew you were still sensitive.
“ah... ah... damn it.” he moaned through his orgasm.
he collapsed back against the pillows, chest heaving as he stared at the camera with hooded, blown-out eyes. he looked completely wrecked, his hair stuck to his forehead and his skin flushed. he stayed quiet for a long time, just watching you recover on the other side of the screen.
the second the call ended, you couldn’t handle the distance anymore. you were so needy for him, so you messaged him frantically, telling him your address and begging him to come over right now. you didn’t even care that it was the middle of the night.
an hour later, there was a knock at your door.
you opened it and there he was.
choso looked even bigger in person. that even when he’s not standing straight, he is still towering over you.
he looked tired, but before he could even say hello, you grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him inside.
you didn’t waste a single second. the door hadn’t even clicked shut before you were all over him, your mouth crashing against his.
he tasted like that mint-flavored mouthwash and he was so soft inside. you groaned into the kiss, moving your hands to immediately roam over his chest, finally feeling the muscles through the fabric. it was exactly how you’d imagined it, hard and hot.
choso let out a low growl against your lips, as much as you’re frantically gobbling him up, he was doing the same thing. he wanted you so bad sa much as you do, and that’s why the kiss feels so fucking messy and addicting at the same time.
his large hand came up to grip your waist, lifting you nearly off your feet. you broke the kiss just long enough to start tugging at his clothes. your fingers were fumbling, desperate to get rid of anything between your hands and his muscles.
you pulled his hoodie over his head, tossing it somewhere behind you.
when your palms finally hit his bare chest and those massive biceps you’d stared at on your screen for weeks, you’ve wetted yourself. he was perfectly built, his skin is actually so smooth and his muscles were dense and unyielding.
“fuck,” you can’t help it, your hands slid down to the waistband of his pants. “you’re even better than the camera showed.”
honestly, the camera did him dirty. he looked ten times better in person.
choso didn’t say a word. he just let you have his way with him while his eyes were fixed on you as he let you strip him down. he was completely yours now. no chat, no stream, no screen, just the two of you. finally… and you were going to make sure he didn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.
you backed him up against the wall first, as you frantically finished stripping him, and then you started leading him toward the bedroom. you were busy gobbling him up and your mouth was all over his neck and jaw, tasting his skin and leaving marks everywhere, while his massive arms were wrapped around you for support.
he felt incredible. his body was solid and way heavier, warmer than you ever could have guessed from a twitch stream. every time your bare skin brushed against his, it felt like you were being electrocuted from the tension.
choso wasn’t just standing there, either. because while you were busy worshiping his chest and shoulders, his large hands were fumbling with your clothes, tugging at your top and sliding your underwear down your legs impatiently.
by the time you hit the edge of the mattress, you were both completely bare. you tumbled back onto the sheets, and he followed immediately. it was overwhelming in the best way.
choso didn’t hesitate.
he didn’t go for a round of soft talk or gentle kisses. he was too fucking hungry for you so instead, he crawled right between your legs, prying your thighs wide apart with both his hands.
you were still soaking wet and your pussy is still throbbing and sensitive from when you’d been fingering yourself on the call, and the cool air conditioning hitting your folds made you shiver.
“you’re still leaking for me,” he looked down at you with his long, dark hair falling forward to frame his face while his eyes are completely focused on what was between your legs.
“ah, choso... please,” you moaned, thumping your head back against the pillow.
he finally leaned down, hitting your wet skin with his hot breath before he buried his face in you. he started eating you out with a hunger that made your back arch off the bed instantly. “ah! um, fuck, choso! yes, right there!”
his tongue was thick and rough, swirling around your clit while his hands gripped your thighs so hard he was definitely going to leave marks. you looked down and saw his broad, muscular back tensing with every movement, and you couldn’t help yourself.
you reached down and gripped his hair, pulling him closer.
“fuck, you taste so much better than i imagined,” he muttered against your skin, your pussy muffling his voice. he looked up at you and his face is already glistening, eyes sleepy, then poking his tongue out to lick your juices scattered around his lips.
then he buried his face in you again, he swirled his tongue around your clit, teasing it by doing it in circular motion and by licking from the bottom of your opening to the top, caressing your clit all by his tongue.
you were crying out within seconds, rolling your eyes, salivating, and pulling your own hair because you didn’t know how to deal with the overwhelming pleasure.
meanwhile, choso was watching your reaction while he started sucking on your clit and pulling it into his mouth.
“ah! fuck, choso, please—ah!” you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders.
at the same time, his massive hands reached up, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them hard. he was kneading the soft flesh, his thumbs flicking over your nipples while he continued to devour you down below. he was so drowned in the scent of you, and he didn’t care one bit. he looked like a man who had finally found exactly where he belonged.
“keep making those sounds for me.” he rumbled against your skin.
he didn’t give you a second to recover. while he kept sucking and pulling at your clit, he pulled down one hand from the ones squeezing your breasts and slid three of his thick fingers inside you.
the stretch was intense and given how big his fingers are, he filled you up completely, and you let out a strangled moan as you felt them curl upward, hitting that spot that made your toes curl.
“three fingers and you’re still so tight. ah, fuck.” he muttered, impressed by how well you’re taking him as he loosen you up.
he started moving them in a violent, hooking motion. he completely abandoned your breasts now, and is playing with your pussy now with his two hands.
he plied you open while he used his other hand to massage your clit. the sound was incredible and lewd. a wet, squelching that filled the quiet room.
“choso! ah, ah, i’m gonna—fuck!”
the squelching got louder as his fingers worked you ruthlessly. he didn’t slow down, instead he pushed harder. now with his tongue flicking fast against you until you finally snapped.
you let out a loud scream, arching your body as you squirted right against his face and chest.
“ah, ah, fuck... um, choso!” you sobbed, your body shaking with the force of it.
choso didn’t stay down there for long. he crawled up your body, pulling the weight of him to press you deep into the mattress. he was big, manly, solid, and smelled so fucking good with your cum mixed with his cologne or whatever he was wearing before coming over.
when he hovered over you, you finally saw it. his dick was thick, veiny, long, and intimidatingly big. it was glistening beautifully in the dim light of your room and it was even more impressive than the grainy discord video had led you to believe.
“fuck, you’re so big,” you whispered with trembling voice.
you should be terrified because that thing is a monster. it will definitely rip your pussy, but you didn’t care.
you reached down, wrapping your fingers around the base and you were the one who guided the head of his cock to your entrance. you were so ready, so swollen and dripping from what he’d just done to you, that you practically pulled him in.
"Ah, please, choso. fuck me now,” you begged.
he let out a low growl and slammed his full length into your pussy.
“ah!” you felt your walls squeeze him by the blinding pressure it gave.
the first thrust stretched you to your absolute limit, filling every inch of you. he didn’t give you time to adjust. he grabbed your hips with his large fingers digging into your skin to keep you in place, and started thrusting you consistently deep.
the sound in the room was filthy. just the constant, wet slapping of his skin against yours and the messy squelch of his thick cock sliding in and out of your pussy. he was fucking you desperately, biting his lips that he might be tasting blood off it now.
“ah, ah, choso! fuck, you’re so deep... um, yes!” you moaned curling your toes every time he buried his dick on your deepest part.
he leaned down and buried his face in the crook of your neck. “you wanted this,” he rasped. “you’ve been asking for this for a month. take all of it. ah, fuck, you're so tight…”
he increased the pace, his thrusts became more violent, targeting that one spot until your vision started to blur. he was hitting you so hard that your whole body was shaking, your breasts bouncing with the impact. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper, wanting to feel every vein, every inch of him.
choso wasn’t done with you. not even close.
just as you were about to climax, he growled and folded you completely. he grabbed your legs, pushing your knees all the way back toward your shoulders in a brutal mating press that left you completely open for him.
“beautiful.” he rasped, staring intently at your pussy. “you’re shaking.”
he didn’t give you a choice. he lunged forward, sliding his big, thick dick back inside you in one heavy, punishing shove. because of the way you were folded, he was hitting you deeper than before, bottoming out against your cervix with every thrust. you let out a strangled moan as you felt every vein of him stretching you wide.
“ah! choso—fuck, it’s too deep... um, ah!”
he didn’t slow down, his chest completely turned red together with his nape and ear. he was drowning in pleasure. and your pussy gripping his dick tight in every thrust was the reason.
then, he used one hand to keep your legs pinned back, folding you, while his other hand reached down between your bodies. he immediately found your clit, and started grinding his thumb grinding into it roughly while he continued to hammer into you.
the friction was insane. the feeling of him filling you up so completely while his thumb toyed with you had you seeing stars. the room was filled with the sound of his heavy breathing and the messy, vulgar squelching of his cock sliding through your pussy.
“ah, ah, ah, fuck... yes, right there!” you sobbed, tossing your head back.
he leaned down and bit softly at your shoulder. “your pussy is squeezing me so fucking hard. ah... fuck, you’re so wet.”
he started moving even faster, his thrusts turned into violent jolts that had you screaming into the quiet of the room. he was rubbing your clit relentlessly, syncing the movement with every deep slam of his hips. you were a mess of sweat and moans, while your walls were clenching around him in desperate waves.
you felt your body go completely rigid, your vision blurring as that massive climax finally ripped through you. you were screaming, feeling your pussy walls clamp down on him, milking him with every desperate pulse.
choso lunged forward, crashing his mouth onto yours to swallow your moans. the kiss was messy. you were fighting for dominance by the means of it, all tongues and teeth and shared breath, while his body buckled over yours.
he didn’t just stop. as he started to come, he kept his weight heavy on you, his hand still crushing your legs back against your chest in that tight mating press.
his cock was pulsing violently inside you, and with every heavy pump of his load, he gave a shallow, shaky thrust, forcing himself even deeper to make sure you took every single drop.
“ah... ah... fuck,” he groaned into your mouth, swirling his tongue against yours while his hips jolted.
every time he pumped more into you, your whole body shook, your muscles twitching with the sheer heat of it. you could feel your pussy overflowing, the excess of him were even leaking out and coating the bed, but he wouldn’t let up.
he remained buried to the hilt, as his thick length twitched deep inside your womb as he emptied himself completely.
the kiss eventually slowed down, leaving both of you just gasping for air with your swollen lips. choso pulled back just an inch, as he rested his forehead against yours. he was still buried deep and still pulsing.
“mine,” he whispered. “you’re finally mine.”
he didn’t pull out. he just collapsed his heavy frame onto you, pinning you into the sheets with his sweat-slicked skin, and let out a long, shaky sigh of pure relief.
• genre: smut, married au (not related to jjk lore)
• content warning: mdni (minors do not interact), explicit sexual content, degradation kink, heavy profanity and explicit insults throughout, rough/aggressive sex all in all, this is very toxic (given naoya is here, it’s toxic by default)
Ten years.
That’s how long you’ve been legally tied to Naoya Zenin.
He is a lot of things: a narcissist, a misogynist, and a man who definitely spends more time on his hair than he does on his personality.
But for a decade, your arrangement was simple. You lived like ghosts: no touches, no "how was your day," and certainly no shared bed. The only time your lips ever met was at the altar on your wedding day.
You were vibrant everywhere else. You were the life of the party, the girl with the sharpest wit and the loudest laugh— except when you crossed the hallways of the Zenin estate.
Around him, you were a stone— a statue.
The Zenin elders love their tradition, which is basically code for sitting in a room, having dinner all together. But tonight, Toji was there. And God, Toji was a breath of fresh air in a room full of stale, ego-inflated assholes.
He didn’t care about your "rank” or label. When you made a dry comment about the soup, he barked out a laugh and fired back a rebuttal that actually had you giggling.
Across the table, Naoya looked like he had swallowed a bag of lemons. His knuckles were white, his eyes darting between you and the cousin he both worshipped and envied.
The front door hadn't even fully clicked shut behind the last guest before the air in the foyer turned toxic.
Naoya was leaning against a pillar while he looked at you with that arrogant grin, but his eyes were twitching.
"You looked like a desperate little bitch tonight," he spat. "Giggling at Toji’s every word? It was embarrassing. Have some fucking dignity, even if you aren't a real Zenin."
You stopped mid-step. Usually, you’d just walk past him. But tonight?
Tonight, the ten years of repressed bullshit finally boiled over.
"Dignity?" You turned. "You’re talking to me about dignity? You spent the whole night staring at Toji like a kicked puppy wanting its master’s attention. It’s pathetic, Naoya."
His grin vanished. He stepped into your space, trying to intimidate you. "Watch your mouth. You’re lucky I even let you keep that last name."
"Oh, fuck your last name!" You snapped, the volume of your voice echoed through the silent halls. "You’ve spent a decade acting like I’m beneath you, like I’m some fucking piece of furniture. Then the second I have a human conversation with a man who isn't a total prick, you lose your mind? What is it, Naoya? Are you mad I’m talking to him, or are you just mad he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be?"
The silence that followed was heavy. Naoya’s face went through shock, fury, and something that looked like wounded pride.
"Go to hell," he hissed.
"I’ve been in hell for ten years, darling. I’m going for a drink."
You didn't pack a bag. You grabbed your keys, shoved past him, deliberately clipping his shoulder, and marched out the door.
As you tore down the driveway in your car, your heart was hammering against your ribs. You pulled out your phone and hit the group chat.
Behind you, in that big, cold house, Naoya Zenin stood in the foyer, staring at the closed door.
He told himself he didn't care.
He told himself you were just a tool, a nuisance. But as he looked at the spot where you had just stood, his chest felt tight.
It wasn't love. Naoya didn't know how to do that.
But it was a possessive, ugly jealousy that was currently eating him alive. And for the first time in a decade, the house felt way too fucking quiet.
By the time you were four or more shots deep into the "I Hate My Husband" cocktail menu, the world had turned blurry. Then the air in the bar shifted. It got more annoying somehow? Like a devil stepped on it.
Naoya stood at the entrance— well, yes, a devil indeed stepped inside the bar.
He immediately spotted you slumped over the mahogany bar, took one look at your messy hair and flushed face, then his jaw tightened so hard.
"Get up," he commanded as he reached for your arm. "You’re making a fucking scene."
"Oh look! It's the my fucking husband!" You chirped, swaying as you stood. You shoved his hand away. "Go away, Naoya. Go polish your ego or whatever the fuck you do at night."
He managed to pour you into the passenger seat of his car, but he couldn't pour you into silence. As he was driving, you were practically singing insults to him. Cause what? Being drunk is a good excuse, you can be as HONEST as you can because you’re under the influence of alcohol. Smart, right?
"You think you’re so special because you can move fast?" You slurred, gesturing wildly at the dashboard. "You’re just a fast-moving asshole. Toji doesn't even have a cursed technique and he still makes you look like a background character. A background character, Naoya!"
"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you," Naoya hissed, knuckles white on the steering wheel. The mention of Toji was like pouring salt in an open wound. "You’re drunk and pathetic. It’s embarrassing that I’m even seen with you."
"Then don’t be! Leave me at the bar! Leave me on the side of the road!" You shouted, kicking the floor mat. "You’re just a fragile little boy. Does it hurt? Does it hurt that even when I’m wasted, I’d rather talk to a wall than you?"
"I said shut up!" Naoya roared, the car swerving slightly as his composure finally snapped. "You don't know shit! You're a trophy that doesn't even look good on the shelf anymore!"
"I'm not a trophy, I'm a person! A person who fucking hates you!"
When the car stopped in the Zenin driveway, you refused to move. You gripped the door so hard. "I'm not going in. I’m sleeping in the garden. At least the dirt is more welcoming than you."
"Like hell you are."
Naoya didn't negotiate. He stormed around the car, ripped the door open, and unbuckled you. Before you could process it, he grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you over his shoulder.
"Put me down, you bastard!" You screamed, your fists drumming against his back. You wiggled violently, your legs kicking the air. "Let me go! I’ll bite you! I swear to God, Naoya, I will bite your shoulder!"
"Try it and see what happens," he growled as his hand gripped the back of your thighs.
He marched toward the sliding doors, ignoring your muffled curses and the way your dress was riding up.
He didn't drop you until he reached the center of his own room, the room you never entered. He tossed you onto the tatami mats, hovering over you, chest heaving.
"You're an embarrassment," he panted, as his eyes bored into yours.
"And you're a fucking loser," you wheezed back, looking up at him with glassy eyes.
The morning sun filtered through Naoya’s room, mocking you with its brightness.
You were sprawled on his futon. the first time in a decade you’d ever been in his bed.
Naoya was already up. He was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, looking infuriatingly put-together in a black yukata. His eyes were cold, tracking you as you sat up and clutched your pounding head.
"Finally awake," he drawled. "Do you have any idea the amount of shit I’m going to have to clean up because of your little performance last night? The servants are already whispering."
You squinted at him, the memories of the car ride, the screaming, the insults, the way he’d hauled you over his shoulder— hit you. But you didn't feel guilty. You felt light.
"Let them whisper," you said.
You stood up, swaying only slightly. "I didn't do anything wrong, Naoya."
"You embarrassed me," he hissed, stepping closer. "You disrespected me in front of the family, and then you acted like a common whore at a bar."
"Oh, shut the fuck up," you snapped, waving a hand dismissively. "I’m done with the lectures. I’m done with the cold glares. I’m done with you. I want a divorce."
The word made Naoya’s face go pale for a split second before a dark, ugly sneer twisted his features. He let out a sharp, mocking laugh that didn't sound nearly as confident as he wanted it to.
"A divorce? You think it’s that easy?" He took two long strides, invading your space. "What’s the real reason? Is this about last night? Is it because you want to go fuck my cousin instead? Is that it? You’ve been salivating over Toji since he walked in."
You looked him dead in the eye.
"Honestly, Naoya? Yeah," you whispered. "Maybe I do. Because let’s be real—Toji probably has a bigger dick than your entire personality. And it’s definitely bigger than whatever you’ve been hiding under that yukata for ten years."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Naoya’s jaw dropped, his ego not just "tampered with" but shattered into a million jagged pieces. He looked like he wanted to scream, or maybe choke you, or maybe, for the first time in his life, admit that he was terrified of you actually leaving.
"You... you low-class—"
"Save it," you interrupted, walking toward the door without looking back. "I’ll have the papers sent. Try to sign them without crying too hard."
—--
You turned for the door, but Naoya was faster. He moved way faster, immediately slamming his palm against the frame to block your exit.
"I’m not fucking done with you!" He roared angrily. "You don't get to say something like that to me and then just walk out. You don't get the last word!"
"Get out of my way, Naoya!" You shoved his chest with both hands, fueled by a decade of held back rage.
You lunged at him, trying to physically plow through him.
It was a mess.
You grabbed his collar and he grabbed your waist to steady himself, but his heel caught on the edge of the raised tatami— making his balance snap. He went down hard, and because you were still tightly fisting his yukata, you went right down with him.
The air left his lungs as he hit the futon. You landed squarely on top of him, your knees bracketed around his hips, and your chest heaving against his.
For a long, agonizing minute, the only sound in the room was the ragged rhythm of your breathing. The anger was still there, but it was momentarily forgotten by the sudden body contact with each other. Naoya’s hands were still gripped tight on your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid you’d run away if he let go.
You looked down at him. His hair was a mess, messy across the pillow, and his dark eyes were wide.
Slowly, you reached up. You didn't slap him. Instead, you let your hands roam over his face. Your thumbs traced his jawline, then moved up to squeeze his cheeks—hard. You gripped his face, hoping this small move could break this man.
"You have such a pretty face, Naoya," you whispered. You leaned down until your lips were inches from his ear, he flinched a little— tickled by your hot breath as you continued to whisper. "You really are a beautiful, arrogant little god, aren't you?"
He let out a shaky breath, his grip on your waist tightened until it almost hurt.
"But your mouth..." you continued, your fingers dug into his skin as you forced him to look at you. "If you could have just learned how to shut that fucking mouth for five minutes over the last ten years... if you weren't such a pathetic, insecure prick..."
You felt his heart hammering against your chest. You couldn’t tell if his rage is being fueled by what you said or if he is finally showing signs of liking his wife all along.
"I would have loved to fuck you," you breathed, watching his pupils dilate. "I would have let you do whatever you wanted. But you just couldn't stop talking, could you?"
You felt him shiver underneath you, a genuine— almost terrifying tremor of desire.
Between the two of you, the agonizing ten years of wasted tension was finally forcing its way out.
Naoya stared up at you, chest rising and falling. For a second, he looked paralyzed by what you’d said. Honestly, he was shook to his core that he’d been so close to having exactly what he wanted, only to realize he’d talked himself out of it for a decade.
"Is that right?" He hissed.
Before you could blink, he moved. In one violent motion, the world spun. The ceiling replaced the floor, and you were slammed back into the futon with the weight of him pinning you down.
He bracketed your arms above your head, squeezing your wrists against the mat. His hair was completely wrecked, and the “i-don’t-care-about-my-wife” mask had finally cracked, revealing a man who was starving for the very person he’d spent years insulting.
"You think you’re the only one who’s been holding back?" Naoya growled, face inches from yours. He mimicked your earlier gesture, one hand leaving your wrist to grip your face, his thumb pressed firmly into your lower lip. "You want me to shut my mouth? Fine."
He leaned down, until his forehead was pressed against yours.
"You spend ten years acting like a statue, then you come alive for him? For Toji?" His voice dropped, it sounds suspiciously calm now. "I’m the one you’re married to. I’m the one who owns this house. And if you think I’m going to let you walk out of here after telling me you’d rather fuck him than me, you’re more delusional than I thought."
He shifted his weight, pressing his lower body firmly against yours, making sure you felt exactly how much your "bigger dick" comment had affected him.
His eyes were burning, not even trying to be subtle with the desperate hunger in there that he couldn't hide behind a rebuttal.
"I don't need to say a fucking word to show you how wrong you are," he muttered against your skin.
He wasn't grinning anymore. But instead of breaking, you started to laugh.
It wasn't a sweet giggle or a nervous titter; it was a loud, mocking cackle that bubbled up from your chest and hit him right in the face. You looked up at him and all you saw was a pathetic, blonde boy playing dress-up in his father’s authority.
"Oh my God," you wheezed. "You really are that insecure, aren't you? You're literally vibrating because I mentioned someone else's name. Ten years of 'I don't care about you,' and one mention of Toji has you acting like a territorial stray dog. It’s fucking hilarious, Naoya."
His grip on your wrists tightened until the skin bruised. "You think this is a joke? You think I’m some comedy act for you to laugh at?"
"I think you're the punchline," you shot back. "You're so obsessed with being the best, but you’re terrified that in the one place it actually matters, you’re just nothing."
That was the final straw.
Naoya didn't have a witty rebuttal left.
He didn't have a condescending remark. He just had rage.
He was so fucking done with how much you’d tethered with his ego that he lunged down, crashing his mouth against yours for a bruising and desperate kiss. An attempt to reclaim an authority he is not sure he had over you in the first place.
"Shut up," he growled against your mouth between wet and messy stabs of his tongue. "You’re a brat. You’re a loud-mouthed, ungrateful bitch who doesn't know her place."
You didn't pull away. You didn't even try to escape.
You rolled your eyes from the sensation and almost wanted to punch yourself for getting hypnoticed by that move.
But you didn’t let him just have his way through it. You freed one hand from his loosened grip and slammed it against the back of his neck, letting your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer as you fought for dominance in the kiss.
You broke away for just a second, trying to gasp for air. "Is that the best you’ve got? You kiss so fucking bad, Naoya. Slow down, you're embarrassing yourself again."
"I’ll kill you," he whispered, though his hands were wandering down your sides with a shaky hunger that suggested he’d much rather do the opposite.
"Do it then," you challenged with a feral grin splitting your face as you pulled his head back down by his hair. "But we both know you'd rather have me stay and hate you than be alone with your own shitty ego. You're a fucking loser, Naoya."
You bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and for the first time in a decade, the silence of the Zenin estate was replaced by the sound of two people finally tearing each other apart.
This wasn't a love story; it was a fucking exorcism.
Naoya was usually so calculated, but now his fingers were trembling as he shoved the fabric of your dress down your shoulders.
"You're so fucking pathetic," you gasped, back arching off the futon as he bit a trail of fiery kisses down your neck. "Look at you. The great Naoya Zenin, reduced to a desperate dog because I bruised his tiny ego. Does it hurt, Naoya? Knowing you’re only touching me because you’re scared I’ll find someone better?"
"Shut your fucking mouth," he snarled. He hooked his fingers into your underwear and yanked them down, his immediate eyes scanned your body. "You talk so much shit for someone whose heart is beating out of her chest right now. You’re just as desperate as I am. You've been starving for this for ten years, you ungrateful bitch."
He pressed his weight into you with his hard and lean body, pinning yours into the mats. He started to grind against you, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. He wasn't even inside you yet, but the friction of his clothed dick against your bare pussy had you let out a sharp, involuntary moan.
"Oh, did that get you?" He mocked with a grin returning to his face as he watched your eyes cloud over.
"In your dreams," you hissed. You reached down, diving beneath the folds of his yukata.
You found him immediately. His dick is stiff, pulsing, and undeniably ready. You wrapped your fingers around the length of him, and gave him a firm, possessive stroke that made his entire body go rigid. "Look at this. Look how hard you are just because I told you you’re a loser. You’re a fucking masochist, Naoya. You love that I hate you."
Naoya’s head fell back, and a strangled groan escaped his throat as you moved your hand up and down faster, your thumb circling the tip at the same time.
"I'm going to... I'm going to break you," he panted.
"Try it," you challenged.
He didn't wait. He shoved your hand away and forced his way between your thighs, his fingers diving into your pussy without warning. You were already wet— a fact he didn't hesitate to point out with a mocking laugh.
"Look at this," he whispered, while his three fingers worked you with a fast-paced in and out. "You’re soaking for me. All that talk about Toji, and here you are, falling apart because I touched you. You’re a liar, and a fucking mess."
"And you’re still... a fucking prick," you managed to choke out, your fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving deep red scratches on his skin.
You were sick of looking at his smug, judgmental face while he worked his fingers inside you.
You wanted to humiliate him as much as he wanted to dominate you. So, you grabbed his hair and shoved him down. You didn't just pull him toward your body suddenly, forcing him back against the pillows so you could straddle his head.
"You want to talk so much, Naoya? Use that mouth for something useful instead of just spewing bullshit," you hissed, slamming your pussy down onto his face.
The weight of you forced his head into the futon.
He let out a muffled sound against your thigh while his hands came up to grip your hips. He tried to pull away, because his ego was clearly reeling from the sudden shift in power, but you leaned forward, tangling your fingers in his hair, pinning him there.
"Don't move," you commanded. "Eat. Since you’re so obsessed with being a 'master' of everything, show me how good you really are."
Naoya’s pride must have been screaming, but his body was a traitor.
After a second of tense resistance, you felt his tongue swipe against you, filled with a desperate need to prove himself. He wasn't being gentle. He was eating you out, making his tongue work with the same aggressive speed he used in a fight.
"Fuck," you gasped, as your head fall back. "Is that... is that the Zenin technique? Just being a persistent little dog?"
He let out a growl against your skin, flicking his tongue harder and his teeth grazing your clit in a way that made your vision go white. He looked up at you from between your legs.
"You’re a failure, Naoya," you moaned, pulling him by the hair even tighter against you. "Ten years... ten years and you finally... oh god... you finally shut the fuck up."
He bit your inner thigh, before going back to work on your clit. He was determined to make you scream his name, to make you take back every insult you’d ever throw at his head.
You were both vibrating with hatred. And your insults turned into broken moans as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.
"Still... a loser," you managed to wheeze out, even as your hips began to buck uncontrollably against his mouth. "Still... just a... god, fuck."
He didn't stop until you were shaking, your body arched in a violent climax that left you slumped over him.
The moment you stopped shaking, Naoya didn't give you a second to breathe. He grabbed your waist and flipped you back onto the futon so fast. He was hovering over you, and his yukata was already discarded. You looked down momentarily and now his dick looked thick and angry, pulsing with the same rage that was written all over his face.
"My turn to make you shut up," he growled.
He didn't ease into it. He grabbed your knees and shoved them back toward your shoulders, pinning you in a brutal mating press that left you completely exposed and vulnerable.
He lunged forward, burying the full, thick length of his dick into your pussy in one unapologetic thrust.
"Fuck!" You screamed, as your internal walls stretched to accommodate him. "You—you arrogant bastard!"
"Yeah, keep screaming," Naoya hissed as he began to slam into you. Each thrust was heavy,his balls slapping against your ass too because of the force. "Tell me again how Toji’s dick is bigger while I’m stretching you out like this. Tell me while I’m fucking the soul out of you."
You reached up, nails digging into the muscles of his chest, carving red scratches through his skin. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head down. "You’re still... a pathetic prick, Naoya! You're only hitting it this hard because you're insecure! Is this all you have??"
"I'll show you speed, you bitch," he snarled, sure enough his pace became frantic and punishing.
He was bottoming out with every stroke, his dick was hitting your cervix with a force that made your breasts bounce. He reached down, gripping your throat, to remind you exactly who was on top.
"Look at you," he panted. "Ten years of acting like a saint, and now you’re under me, taking my dick and begging for more. Your pussy is so tight, it’s like it was waiting for me to finally claim and fuck it."
"Claim and fuck it? Ah!" You wheezed, even as you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. Your body was betraying every word out of your mouth. "You’re just—ah!—you’re just a man I’m using to get off!"
"Keep lying to yourself," Naoya groaned. He started to grind his hips against yours at the deepest point of the thrust, his dick was twitching inside your, not even calming down even after several balls deep thrusts. "You love this. You love that I’m the one inside you. Say my name. Say it, or I’ll stop right fucking now."
"Go to hell, Naoya!" You shouted, but your hands moved to his ass, pulling him back in every time he tried to withdraw.
"Say it!" He roared, slamming into you one last time.
The friction was unbearable, the feeling of his thick cock filling you up while you both threw insults and hate at each other made the climax hit harder. You screamed his name in an angry outburst, as he came deep inside you. His body shook with the force of his release, pinning you into the mat.
The sun was high now, but neither of you had moved.
Naoya was still pinned deep inside you and the room was reeking with the smell of sex and the absolute destruction of your decade-long cold war.
Just as Naoya started to pull out, a very sophisticated tapping echoed from the sliding paper doors.
"Master Naoya?" A servant’s voice called out, muffled but clear. "The elders have requested your presence in the courtyard for the morning briefing. They’ve been waiting for twenty minutes."
Naoya froze. Then scrambled to his knees, his face went pale as he tried to look for his discarded yukata. He looked desperate to maintain the facade of a cold clan leader without even realizing he was currently covered in your nail marks and hickeys.
"I will be there shortly," Naoya called out. He glared down at you. "Tell them I was—"
You looked at his panicked, arrogant face and felt a surge of pure, chaotic evil.
"Oh, Naoya!" You wailed, purposely shouting your voice loud enough to carry through the entire wing of the estate. You arched your back, grabbing the headboard and letting out a long moan that sounded like you were being split in half. "Don't stop now! Fuck, you're so deep!"
Naoya’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He lunged forward, his hand immediately diving to cover your mouth, but you bit his palm hard as a muffled laughter bubble in your throat.
"Is everything alright, Young Master?" The servant asked, their voices trembling with awkward realization.
"Everything is fine!" Naoya hissed through gritted teeth.
You didn't stop. You reached up, grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him back down into you, ,making your hips buck up to meet him with an unmistakable slap.
"God, Naoya! You're so much better than your cousin!" You screamed, making sure to project your voice right at the door. "Fuck me harder, you blonde prick!"
Outside, you heard the sound of the servant’s footsteps practically sprinting away in pure terror.
Naoya looked like he wanted to melt into the tatami and die. His image was currently being dragged through the dirt by the woman he’d spent ten years ignoring.
"You fucking bitch," he whispered, though he didn't pull away. In fact, seeing him so humiliated, so completely stripped of his dignity, was the biggest turn-on yet.
He looked down at you with a mix of genuine hatred and burning lust in his eyes, and realized he was trapped.
"What's the matter, Master Zenin?" You smirked, pulling his head down by his earlobes until your lips brushed his. "Afraid the elders will find out you’re actually human? Now shut the fuck up and finish what you started. I'm not done ruining your morning."
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Note: This is Part 2. If you want the full context, read Part 1 first!
genre: smut, university au
content warning: mdni (minors do not interact), no kids allowed!, explicit sexual content, size kink (implied/discussed), virgin!satoru, nerd!satoru, nerd!gojo, praise kink, breast play/worship
Satoru’s breath was a hot, shaky mess against your collarbone. Now that he actually had permission, he looked completely paralyzed as his hands hovered just inches away from your chest.
"Satoru," you whispered, reaching down to grab his wrists. "Don't just hover. Touch me."
You guided his large palms onto your breasts. Even through the fabric of your bra, the contact made him let out a pathetic whimper. At first, he just let his hands sit there, flat and stiff.
"Squeeze them, Satoru," you commanded, leaning back to give him more access. "I'm not made of glass. Use those big hands."
He swallowed hard and finally, he curled his fingers. It was a clumsy squeeze, but the sensation of his palms kneading your breast made him groan deep in his throat. He started to realize how soft you were, how perfectly your curves filled his grip after he began to move his hands in circles.
He was becoming pathetically smitten. He leaned closer, touching your bra’s lace with his nose, inhaling the scent of your skin mixed with your perfume. He looked like a man possessed. He was holding both of your breasts now, fingers digging in slightly as he grew bolder.
"I can't... I can't think," he muttered.
You could feel his lust radiating off him, and looking down, the bulge in his pants was very evident, a thick weight that was clearly causing him physical ache. He was edging himself just by touching you, and his body is reacting to it with violent intensity.
"You're doing so well, Satoru," you praised, running your fingers through his messy white hair. "But don't you think the lace is getting in the way?”
His blue eyes snapped up to yours.
"Go ahead," you smirked, tilting your head. "Take it off. Show me how thorough you can be."
Satoru didn't need to be told twice. His hands moved to clasp your hooks eagerly, fingers fumbling with it.
The metal clasp of your bra gave way with a sharp click and Satoru’s hands were shaking so violently, but then it fell away— for a second, he just stared.
You were completely bare for him and Satoru looked like he was witnessing a religious epiphany. He didn't wait for a command this time. His large, pale hands surged forward, cupping both of your breasts with both hands.
"You’re... you’re so much better than the books. You’re so warm." He rasped, voice cracking.
He began to play with them desperately: squeezing, lifting the weight of them, thumbs swiping across your nipples clumsily.
He was living the best of his life right now.
But as his hands worshiped your chest, your own focus was shattering. You looked down between his spread knees, and the rumors in the locker room officially became an understatement. The bulge in his slacks was terrifyingly big, that it strained the fabric to its absolute limit. It pulsed visibly with every ragged breath he took.
You couldn't help yourself and reached down, palm landing flat against the hard length of him.
Satoru’s entire body jolted upon your touch. He let out a strangled, choked-off cry, arching his back. "A-ah!"
"Satoru," you whispered, then you began to slowly caress him through the expensive fabric of his trousers, tracing the massive shape of him.
He was rock hard, thick enough that your hand couldn't even fully wrap around the girth of it through the cloth. "The girls were right. You’re hiding so much power in these dorky pants."
Satoru collapsed forward, burying his face into the valley of your breasts. He groaned into your skin as he dampened your cleavage with his breath and nuzzled against you like a starving man.
He was trembling as his hands still kneaded your breasts while you continued to stroke the length of him.
"I’m going to... I’m going to go off," he whimpered against your skin. "... it’s too much. Please don't stop. Please."
He was pathetic and was currently the most well-endowed man you’d ever laid eyes on. You smirked, your thumb catched the wet spot already forming at the tip of his length through the fabric.
"Then let's get these pants off, Satoru," you murmured, pulling his hair back so he had to look at you.
Satoru was a total disaster. You made him sit there on the edge of the couch, shirt unbuttoned and messy, his white hair was standing up in every direction where your fingers had been pulling and threading.
He was panting, face red, eyes glassy and unfocused as he watched you sink to your knees between his legs.
He didn't try to stop you. He just gripped the edge of the cushions until his knuckles turned white, letting out a soft, shaky "Oh..." as your fingers reached for the button of his pants.
"You're so quiet now, Satoru," you teased.
"I'm... I'm trying to... process," he managed to choke out.
You popped the button. Slowly, you lowered the zipper and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his trousers and his boxers, pulling them down in one smooth motion, making Satoru’s head fall back against the sofa, letting out a strangled sound escaping his throat.
Even though you had felt the shape of it through the fabric, even though the rumors had prepared you— nothing could have prepared you for the reality.
When he finally sprang free, your breath hitched, and your jaw practically hit the floor. He was massive. He was thick and unrealistically long. It was beautiful in a raw, intimidating way— veiny, pale, and he was even leaking pre-cum at the tip.
You stared and your mouth ran dry. You were the one who was supposed to be in control, but looking at the size of him made your knees feel weak. You could feel yourself dripping between your thighs as you realized that this stuttering, blushing nerd was carrying a literal weapon in his pants.
"Satoru..." you breathed, voice trembling for the first time. "The girls... they didn't even know the half of it."
Satoru looked down, eyes widening. "Is it... is it okay? Is it too much? I told you... I don't know the—"
"The thing is," you whispered, reaching out to wrap your hand around the base of him, also the moment you realize that you couldn't even get your fingers to meet around the girth—"is that you're going to let me do whatever I want with this."
You looked up at him, and the sight of Satoru Gojo looking completely undone and pathetically smitten by your touch, made you cream yourself right then and there.
"Please," he whimpered, hips twitching instinctively toward your hand. "Please..."
The sight of him was the final straw. You weren't just curious anymore; you were desperate. While Satoru sat there, you stood up and reached for the hem of your skirt and stepped out of your clothes, letting your underwear join the pile on the floor.
Satoru looked like he was about to faint as his gaze frantically memorized every inch of your bare skin— from the curve of your hips to the wetness glistening between your thighs.
"Satoru," you commanded. "Stroke it for me. I want to see how you do it when you're alone thinking about me."
He let out a shaky, "Oh," but he didn't hesitate. His large hand wrapped around his big and long cock, his mouth forming a big O as he began to slide his palm up and down. He was clumsy and uncoordinated because he was watching you. He didn’t know what feeling was there to acknowledge first: is it your body displayed in front of him? Or the fact that he’s stroking his own cock no longer fantasizing about you? He didn’t know anymore.
"Like that?" He rasped. "Am I... am I doing it right?"
"Perfect," you breathed, watching the way his muscles rippled in his arms.
You didn't wait any longer. You stepped forward and straddled his lap, thighs wrapping around his waist. Satoru let out a strangled groan as your wetness smeared against his thigh, and placed his hands uncertainly near your hips.
"Satoru, I need you to do something for me," you said, leaning in so your bare breasts pressed against his chest. "I need you to stretch me out. Use your fingers."
He blinked, looking genuinely confused. "Stretch? Why? Is there—"
"Because you're huge, Satoru," you interrupted, grabbing his hand and guiding his fingers toward your pussy. "Look at yourself. You’re so big that if we don't prepare me first, it might not even fit. You're going to stretch me until I'm ready for all of you."
The realization hit him, his blue eyes dropped to where his hand was now pressed.
"Too big?" He whispered.
He slid one long finger inside you, immediately feeling how tight and slick you were.
He began to move his fingers, working you with a surprising, studious intensity. He watched the way your face contorted with pleasure— all while his own cock pulsed against your leg.
Satoru was hyper-focused, tracking the movement of his own hand. He was incredibly obedient, waiting for your every word— he could’ve sworn he could climax right there and then while he was fingering you, but instead, he let his body vibrate with the effort of holding back his own climax.
"One finger, Satoru. Slow," you commanded, voice shaking as you gripped his broad shoulders.
He obeyed instantly, sliding a long, pale finger into your hole. He let out a shaky breath when he felt how tight you were. "You’re so... so warm inside," he whispered.
"Now add another. I need more."
He swallowed hard and carefully slid a second finger in beside the first. You felt the stretch immediately as your walls clenched around him. You couldn't help yourself; you began to grind your hips down against his lap, humping the massive length of his cock through your skin.
"A-ah.." Satoru gasped, his head tilting back as you rubbed against him. "Do you... do you like what I'm doing? Is the pressure... correct?"
"It’s perfect," you hissed. "Now, don't stop moving your fingers, but use your thumb. Rub my clit. Harder."
Satoru was desperate to please you. He found your clit and began to circle it with his thumb. He was a natural student, adjusting his pacing based on the way your breath hitched.
"Like this?" He asked, his voice a pathetic, needy rasp.
"Yes, just like that," you moaned, your pussy soaking his hand as he opened you up. "Add a third. I need to feel how big you're going to be. Stretch my cunt for me, Satoru. Open me up."
His eyes went wide at the word, but he didn't hesitate. He pushed a third finger inside, his large hand filling you out, stretching your entrance until you felt a delicious, stinging fullness. You were creaming all over his knuckles, making a squelching sound that made Satoru’s cock jerk violently against your thigh.
"Faster," you ordered while moving your hips.
He obeyed, his fingers plunging deep while his thumb kept a punishing pressure on your clit. He was watching you, completely subservient to your pleasure even as his own massive length leaked pre-cum onto his own stomach, desperate for the moment you’d finally let him inside.
The vibration of your phone on the coffee table felt like an electric shock against the silence of the room. You were currently stretched wide by three of Satoru’s long, trembling fingers, your pussy was leaking and aching for more, when the screen lit up with one of your friends’ names.
"Be quiet," you hissed, reaching out with a shaky hand to swipe 'Accept.' You put it on speaker, while your other hand is gripping Satoru’s shoulder for balance.
"Hey," a voice came through. "They’re out of the energy drinks you like. You want the peach tea or just water?"
You opened your mouth to answer, but Satoru suddenly curled his fingers inside you, hitting that sensitive spot deep against your G-spot with a firm hook.
"I—ah!" You choked out a sharp, involuntary moan, your back arching as your walls clamped down on his hand.
Satoru’s eyes lit up. He looked surprised by his own power, as he realized he could make you lose your cool. He didn't stop. He pushed his thumb harder against your clit, and his fingers began a fast rhythm that made a squelching sound— that you were certain, was audible through the mic.
"You okay?" your friend asked, pausing. "You sound... out of breath."
"I'm... just... looking for the—" You tried to speak, but Satoru drove his fingers into the hilt, stretching your cunt so wide, making you roll your eyes. You bit your lip so hard but then a muffled, whimpering groan escaped your nose.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. You could hear one of your friends giggling in the background and then, "I told you he wasn't just studying."
"Actually," another said, voice sounding significantly more awkward, "the line here is... really long. Like, unexpectedly long. We’re probably going to be another hour. Maybe two. We’ll just... give you guys some 'space' to finish the project."
"Wait—" you tried to gasp out, but the line was cut.
Satoru finally pulled his fingers out, leaving you gaping and dripping on his lap. He looked like a mess and his massive cock was twitching, standing tall and proud between you.
"They're not coming back for a while," Satoru whispered, his hand reaching down to grip his own cock, as he looked at your soaked, open pussy. "Does that mean I can finally... Can I put it in?"
He was trembling so hard but his blue eyes were fixed on the wet opening of your pussy.
"Please," he rasped.
"Patience, Satoru," you whispered, though your own voice was just as wrecked. You reached down, fingers wrapping around his cock. Even after the stretching, the head of him felt intimidating as you guided him to your entrance.
You slowly lowered yourself, and the moment the tip touched you, you let out a long, shaky moan that vibrated through both your bodies. He was thick—so thick it felt like he was pushing your walls to their absolute limit before he was even halfway in.
"Oh... oh, ah," Satoru whimpered, hands clutching your hips with a white-knuckled grip. "You’re so tight... you're so small. Am I... am I breaking you?"
"Shut up and keep going," you hissed while your head was falling back.
You sank down fully, and the sensation was staggering. You had been with men before, but this was different. Satoru felt like heaven. You felt your internal muscles stretch to a point you didn't know was possible, your cunt molding itself around his legendary size.
Satoru’s reaction was that of a man who had just discovered fire. His head snapped back, mouth falling open as he let out a guttural, raw sound of disbelief. "I... I'm inside. I'm actually... it feels... it’s so much better than I imagined. It’s so tight and wet—"
He suddenly lurched, his cock twitching inside you, and you felt him grow even larger, if that were even possible. He was expanding within your walls, the sheer pressure was making you scream into the empty house.
"A-ah! Satoru! You're... you're getting bigger!" You cried out, but the feeling of his big dick inside was so strong, you forgot about the pain almost immediately. You began to move, lifting yourself and slamming back down, riding him with a desperate, frantic hunger. "God, you're so fucking huge! It's too much... it's perfect!"
Satoru was a mess of moans and gasps. "You’re so tight," he groaned, hips beginning to jerk upward to meet you.
You were wailing, turning your moans into loud barks of pleasure as you rode him harder, the sound of your skin slapping against his thighs echoed through the room.
Satoru’s eyes were glassy, tears of pure over-stimulation pricking at the corners as he watched you take him. He looked pathetically smitten, worshiping the way your breasts bounced with every downward stroke, hands moving to squeeze them as he learned the rhythm.
"Please… faster," he begged. "I want to feel you stretch even more. Please... give me everything."
The transition from the living room to the bedroom was a blurred memory for you. Satoru had practically carried you, while his big cock was still pulsing and leaking as he stumbled toward the bed.
He laid you back against the sheets, and for a moment, he just hovered over you. You didn't give him long to admire. You reached down, grabbing your own knees and pulling your legs wide, exposing your swollen, soaked cunt to him.
"Come here," you commanded, breath hitching. "I want to see your face when you're all the way inside me."
He didn't need a second invitation. He crawled between your thighs and pinned your wrists to the mattress. As he lowered himself and guided his thick head back to your entrance, he let out a shaky, desperate moan.
He pushed in with one slow, heavy thrust. Because of the angle, the stretch was even more intense than before. You screamed, toes curling into the mattress as you felt him balls deep into your womb. He was so long and so thick that as he buried himself to the hilt, you could actually see the terrifying, blunt shape of his cock pushing out against your lower stomach.
"Satoru! God, look— you’re so fucking big!" You wailed, voice echoing off the bedroom walls.
"I'm... I'm really that deep?" He rasped as he began to pound into you, meeting your hips with wet slaps.
Every time he bottomed out, you let out a loud, high-pitched moan, head tossing back and forth.
"More! Satoru, don't stop!" You cried, your nails digging into the backs of his hands.
He was a newborn discovering life, a man possessed by the sensation of your tight, wet cunt gripping him with every stroke.
Satoru was proving to be a terrifyingly fast learner. His stamina was monstrous— he had flipped you onto your hands and knees, then pulled you to the edge of the bed to fuck you while standing, and each time he re-entered you, his thick cock seemed even harder than the last.
You were starting to feel the physical fatigue, as your legs shook and your breath came in ragged, exhausted gasps, but Satoru looked like he could go for another three hours. He was relentless with an almost frantic energy as he moved you into yet another position, hooking your leg over his shoulder to drive himself deep.
"Satoru... fuck," you moaned, head lolling back as he bottomed out again. "How... how do you even know all these positions? You’re a virgin... you’re supposed to be... clueless."
Satoru’s face flushed, even as he continued to pound into you with bone-deep thrusts. He leaned down and whispered against your neck.
"In the library. I read... some... some more 'practical' guides.”
You let out a loud, wet groan, your walls clenched around him at the sheer "nerdiness" of his confession. Even while he was railing you like a beast, he was still the studious boy from the lab.
"Did you... did you ever jerk off to me?" You gasped out, hands clawing at the sheets. "In the library... while we were studying?"
Satoru froze for a split second, his cock pulsing inside you as he looked down at your face. He didn't lie; he couldn't.
"Every day," he confessed. He started moving again, faster now. "Every single day since the semester started. I’d go home and think about your voice... the way... the way your breasts looked. I’ve spent hours... days... imagining exactly how your pussy would feel around me."
The honesty of it sent a final, violent wave of pleasure through you.
"Show me," you whimpered. "Show me everything you've been imagining."
The sound in the room was filled with the repeated slap-slap-slap of his thighs hitting your ass, the creak of the bedframe, and your own moans.
"You're... you're so greedy," Satoru gasped. He looked down, eyes widening as he saw you reaching between your bodies.
Even with him filling you to the point of bursting, you weren't satisfied. You were a mess of lust, so you moved your fingers to find your own swollen clit and began to massage it desperately while he slammed into you. You were double-teaming your own body, the friction from his massive dick inside and your own touch outside creating a sensory overload that made you go crazy.
"Satoru! Fuck, yes! Right there!" You screamed, hips bucking up to meet his every thrust. "Harder! Don't you dare stop!"
"I— ahh — won’t–" Satoru’s voice was wrecked like he was a man possessed by your pleasure. He gripped your waist, and buried his thumbs into your hips to hold you steady as he began a punishing, fast pace.
Every time he lunged forward, you felt the head of him stretching your cunt to its absolute limit, showing the visible shape of his cock sliding beneath the skin of your stomach. You were loud with your animalistic moans as you felt the first sparks of your climax beginning to explode.
Satoru was at his absolute limit. The way you were working your own clit while he pounded into you had pushed his nervous system into a total meltdown. His eyes were rolled back slightly, white lashes fluttering as he felt your internal walls begin to ripple and squeeze around him in the throes of your own climax.
"Satoru... now! Put it all in me!" You screamed.
He let out a loud moan of your name as he lunged forward for one final, devastating thrust.
He didn't pull back.
Instead, he stayed buried deep in you, hips locked tight against yours.
The sensation was overwhelming.
You felt him jerk violently inside you, his massive length pulsing deep in your gut. Then came the heat.
A thick, searing cum flood began to fill you, a rush of his release that felt like it would never end. Because he had been "researching" you for so long— jerked off to the thought of you every single day, that it made the volume staggering when he finally got to have sex with you.
You felt your pussy overflowing, the warmth was even pooling deep against your cervix and then slowly beginning to spill out, reaching the sheets beneath your hips.
He continued to pulse inside you for a long time and you, on the other hand, were completely spent.
As he finally began to soften, the friction of his massive cock sliding against your pussy walls made you let out one last, shaky moan. You felt the creamy cum of him leaking out from between your thighs, a shameless reminder of fucking good this nerd is into fucking you out of your senses.
Satoru lifted his head, looking down at the mess you had made together with a dazed, smitten expression. He looked like a man who had finally found his purpose in life, and it had nothing to do with physics.
"I think..." he whispered, voice cracking as he leaned down to give you one last, sweet kiss, "...I think I’m going to need a lot of extra credit sessions."
You smirked, pulling him back down for more. "Don't worry, Satoru. I think we can arrange a very specialized curriculum just for you."
That is where the university has become a completely different place for both of you. Before, the library was for studying and the labs were for experiments. Now, every corner of the campus was just another potential location for Satoru to show you exactly how much "extra credit" he was willing to earn.
It started when Satoru was tucked away in the deepest corner of the physics archives, surrounded by dusty journals. You slid into the seat beside him and your hand immediately dived under the table. While he tried to maintain his focus on a complex theorem, you unzipped his pants.
His breath hitched, and his pen clattered to the floor. "N-now?" He whispered.
"Now," you murmured.
Your hand wrapped around his cock— already rock hard the moment you touched him. You began a slow, teasing handjob making your thumb massage his tip. Satoru’s head fell back against the shelf, eyes rolling behind his glasses as he tried to stifle a groan. He was still trying to read, and his fingers were trembling as he turned a page, but his hips were twitching helplessly into your palm.
Later that week, during a late-night lab session, the sound of the centrifuges provided the perfect cover. While the rest of the floor was empty, you had Satoru backed against a slate table. You sank to your knees, pulling his pants down and took all of him into your mouth.
He was a mess, hands tangling in your hair as he gasped for air. He was so big that every slide of your tongue felt like a challenge on how much longer can you keep sucking him off.
"I can't... the security guards... they'll hear us," he whimpered, but he didn't pull away.
Instead, he pushed deeper, hips jerking with a desperate energy that showed just how addicted he’d become to your mouth.
The most dangerous, however, was the morning lectures. In a hall filled with two hundred students, you sat in the back row with a jacket draped over your laps. Satoru sat beside you while his long arm reached under your skirt.
While the professor droned on about the lecture, Satoru’s long fingers were buried deep inside you. He was fingering you in broad daylight, with his thumb never leaving your clit. You had to bite your lip like your life depended on it just to keep from screaming, your pussy soaking his hand as you leaned your head on his shoulder, pretending to take notes while your body was being set on fire.
By the time the final bell rang, neither of you could wait. You’d practically drag him into the nearest women's comfort room, locking the stall door and hiking your skirt up.
Satoru would lift you, pinning you against the cold tile wall, as his massive dick slid back into your pussy.
The contrast was delicious: his high-IQ brain completely short-circuiting as he railed you in a public stall, while his blue eyes were blown wide with unadulterated lust.
You’d just wrap your legs tighter around his waist, moaning shamelessly into the echoing bathroom. The rumors about Satoru Gojo’s size had been true, but the rumors about his stamina? Those were the real legends being written in the halls of the university.
Even during the weekend at your house, you’d spend the time with Satoru in tangled sheets, and the constant sound of that wet click of your ass meeting him everytime he’s fucking you hard.
The thought of the two of you, having sex all day and the next morning; 7:00 AM, and while the sun was just beginning to peek through the blinds, Satoru was already awake and hungry for another round.
You were propped up against the headboard with a heavy textbook resting on your thighs, trying to focus on the mid-term review. Satoru, however, was completely submerged under the duvet between your legs. The only thing visible was the occasional ruffle of his white hair as he moved.
"Okay," you gasped, voice trembling as you looked down at the page. "Next question... define... define the Second Law of Thermodynamics."
From beneath the sheets, Satoru’s voice came out muffled but academically perfect. "Entropy in an isolated system... always increases over time."
As he finished the sentence, his tongue swirled around your clit with a sudden flick. You let out a sharp, choked-off moan, the textbook slid down your legs but Satoru didn't stop there. He slid two long fingers deep into your pussy, stretching you wide while his tongue continued to tease your clit.
"Correct," you whimpered. "And... and what happens to the energy... a-ah! Satoru!"
He pulled back for just a second, his face emerging from the covers. He looked like a smitten mess. He looked up at you with a shy, nerdy smirk that didn't match the way his fingers were currently working your cunt.
"The energy becomes less available for work," he whispered. "But I think we have plenty of energy left, don't you?"
He dived back under, tongue becoming even more aggressive. He was thorough, just like he was with his equations. He used his fingers to open your folds, making sure he could reach every centimeter of you. The sensation of his hot breath against your inner thighs combined with the wet, rhythmic suction of his mouth made your vision go blurry.
"Last question," Satoru’s voice rumbled against your skin, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. "What is the... coefficient of friction... between two surfaces?"
"I... I don't know," you cried out, hips bucking as he increased the pace of his fingers, sliding them in and out of your soaked pussy while his tongue pinned your clit down. "I can't think when you're doing that!"
"The answer," Satoru murmured, pulling away just enough to look, "is that it depends on the materials. And right now... the friction between us is perfect."
He plunged his tongue back into you, his fingers curling deep inside to hit your G-spot with every stroke. You screamed into the quiet morning air, the textbook forgotten on the floor as you surrendered to Satoru who had officially mastered the most important subject of all.
content warning: mdni (minors do not interact), no kids allowed!, explicit sexual content, size kink (implied/discussed), virgin!satoru, nerd!satoru, nerd!gojo, praise kink, breast play
The locker room was rich with the scent of expensive perfume and the humid steam from the showers. You sat on the wooden bench, slowly unlacing your sneakers, while the girls gossiped nearby. Usually, you tuned them out, but one name made you pause: Satoru Gojo.
"I’m telling you, it’s not just a rumor," a girl whispered, leaning against the lockers with a smirk. "My cousin saw him in the medical wing getting a physical last semester. She said when he took his pants off, the nurse actually dropped her clipboard."
"No way," another girl laughed, snapping her sports bra. "He’s such a dork, though. He wears those baggy sweaters and hides in the back of the lab. You really think he’s packing like that?"
"It’s always the quiet ones," one of the girls countered, gesturing with her hands to a length that seemed borderline impossible. "He’s like 6'3 and all legs. Think about the physics of it. The guy has a massive dick. It’s probably heavy enough to give him back pain."
You bit your lip, feeling a strange heat crawl up your neck. You knew Satoru from your Advanced Physics seminar. He was a stuttering mess that whenever you asked to borrow a pencil, his face turned as white as his hair. He was a socially stunted nerd who looked like he’d faint if a girl even touched his hand.
But the image stayed with you. The idea of that stuttering, blushing boy carrying something so... substantial between his legs was a contrast you couldn't ignore.
The next afternoon, the library was nearly empty. Satoru was tucked away in a corner cubicle, surrounded by three different textbooks on thermodynamics.
You didn't sit across from him this time. You walked right up to his side, sliding your bag onto the desk.
"The girls in the locker room won't shut up about you, Satoru," you said, voice loud enough to make him jump.
He practically fell out of his chair. "A-about me? Why? Did I... did I leave my lab report somewhere?" He scrambled to adjust his glasses, which were sliding down his nose.
"They’re talking about your dick," you said flatly.
Satoru’s entire face went a shade of crimson. He choked, letting out a series of dry coughs while staring at you in pure horror. "I—pardon? Th- that’s—that’s highly inappropriate for a library setting! Or any setting!"
"Is it true?" You stepped closer, invading his personal space. You watched his eyes dart down to your lips, then down to your chest, then back to his books. He was breathing like he’d just run a marathon.
"I don't know what—what 'it' is," he stammered, voice dropping to a panicked whisper. "I’m just a student. I’m just trying to study."
"You're shaking," you noted, reaching out to touch his arm.
The moment your fingers brushed his sweater, he let out a sharp, hitched breath. His hand flew to the table to steady himself, and as he shifted, the fabric of his slacks tightened. Your eyes followed the movement. Even through the professional cut of his trousers, the outline was undeniable. It was thick, long, and already reacting to your proximity.
The rumors were an understatement.
"Take them off," you commanded.
"My... my pants?" he squeaked, his eyes wide with terror.
"Your glasses, Satoru. Give them to me."
His hand trembled as he reached up, slowly sliding the thick black frames off his face. He blinked, his long, snowy lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. Without the glasses, the "nerd" persona vanished. His eyes were piercing, electric blue and incredibly beautiful.
He looked at you properly for the first time, and you saw the raw hunger hidden behind his shyness. He was getting hard just from you looking at him.
"You're a total mess," you whispered, leaning down so your cleavage was inches from his face. "You’ve got all that power between your legs and no idea what to do with it, do you?"
Satoru’s gaze was glued to your breasts, his mouth hanging open slightly. "I... I've never... I don't know the proper... protocol."
"Forget the protocol," you said, taking his hand and placing it firmly on your thigh. He flinched like he’d been burned, but he didn't pull away. "You’re going to stay right here, and I’m going to teach you how to be a man."
That night, a group project meeting happened at one of your mutual friend’s house. While the rest of the group was huddled around a laptop in the kitchen, you had claimed the beanbag in the corner of the living room, sprawled out with your legs tucked under you.
Satoru sat on the floor nearby, his physics textbook open on his lap, but he hadn't turned a page in thirty minutes. Every time you leaned forward to reach for your drink, your low-cut top dipped, offering a clear view of the soft curves he’d been dreaming about since the library.
He was sweating. His glasses kept fogging up, and he looked like he was vibrating with nervous energy. You caught him staring again with a fixated, wide-eyed gaze at your chest. He looked like a man staring at a holy relic.
"Everyone’s going to the store to grab snacks and more caffeine," one of your group mates announced, grabbing his keys. "Satoru, are you staying to finish the calculations?"
"I—uh, yes. Calculations. Very important," Satoru stammered.
As soon as the front door clicked shut, the silence in the house became heavy. You shifted, sitting up straight and rolling your shoulders back, purposefully making your breasts more prominent. Satoru’s head snapped toward you, pupils blown so wide the blue of his eyes was almost gone.
"You’ve been staring at them all day, Satoru," you said. No flowery metaphors, just the blunt truth.
He jumped, his textbook sliding off his lap. "I—I wasn't—I mean, the light in here is very—"
"Shut up," you smirked, crawling toward him on your hands and knees. You stopped right in front of him, so close your knees brushed his. "Do you want to hold them?"
Satoru choked. He actually made a soft, whimpering sound in the back of his throat. He looked at your face, then back down at your chest, his hands twitching at his sides. He looked terrified, like a woman’s touch might actually kill him, but the bulge in his pants told a much different story.
Slowly, agonizingly, he nodded. "Yes," he whispered. "Please."
You let out a low, confident laugh, enjoying the way he crumbled under your gaze. You reached out and grabbed the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to tease him, but then you stopped.
"I’ll let you hold them," you said. "But there’s a price. You have to give me a kiss first."
The color drained from his face before rushing back twice as hard. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "I... I can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't know how," he confessed. He looked like a kicked puppy, white hair falling over his eyes. "I’ve never... I don't know where to put my hands. I don't know what to do with my mouth. I’ll mess it up. I’ll be..."
You reached out, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. His skin was burning hot.
"Don't worry about it," you murmured, leaning in until your lips were a breath away from his. "I’m going to teach you. And if you’re a good student... I’ll let you do a lot more than just hold them."
You felt him shudder, his hands finally coming up to rest tentatively on your waist.
"First lesson," you whispered against his mouth. "Open your eyes. I want you to see exactly what you're doing to me."
Satoru was frozen as his hands hovered at your waist. His breath was hitching, coming in short, jagged bursts that smelled faintly of the sweetened coffee he’d been nursing all afternoon.
"Stay still," you commanded.
You leaned in, closing the final inch. When your lips first pressed against his, Satoru let out a muffled sound: half-gasp, half-whimper. His lips were startlingly soft, but they were stiff, pressed together in a tight line because he was too scared to move. He was vibrating, his entire muscular frame radiating the tension that was coiled tight, centered entirely in the heavy weight between his legs.
"Satoru," you murmured against his mouth, "you have to breathe. And relax your lips. Copy me."
You nipped at his bottom lip, which sent a visible shockwave through him. His eyes were wide and fluttering while watching you. Slowly, he began to mimic you. He softened his mouth, his lips parting just a fraction.
Encouraged, you slanted your mouth over his, deepening the kiss. It wasn't a "nerdy" kiss anymore. As soon as he felt the slide of your lips against his, something shifted in him. His hands, previously hesitant, suddenly gripped your waist with a firm, possessive strength.
"Better," you whispered, pulling back just enough to tease him. "Now, open your mouth a little more. Let me in."
He obeyed like a devotee. When you slid your tongue across his lower lip, he let out a shaky groan that vibrated deep in his chest. When your tongues finally met, it was clumsy at first, but he was a fast learner. He tasted sweet, and the heat radiating off him was becoming unbearable.
He started to get into it, his head tilting instinctively to get a better angle, his tongue darting out to meet yours with a desperate, hungry curiosity. He was kissing you like a man starving, his shy exterior completely melting away under the friction of your mouths. You could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, sounding like a drumbeat in the quiet living room.
His hands slid from your waist, moving up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, groaning into the kiss. He was visibly losing control as the bulge in his slacks was now pressing hard against your thigh, thick and insistent.
You pulled away just as he was starting to find a rhythm, leaving him breathless and dazed. A thin silver thread of saliva connected you for a second before breaking. Satoru’s eyes were glassy, his lips were wet and swollen from your attention.
"You're a very good student, Satoru," you whispered, reaching down to grab the hem of your shirt again.
He was panting, chest heaving as he looked at you, he looked desperate right now: like a nerd who had just been given a taste of heaven.
"The kiss... was that... was that right?" He rasped. Almost shy.
"It was a start," you smirked, slowly pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it onto the floor. "Now, don't you have something you wanted to hold?"
Satoru watched as your shirt hit the floor, his brain short-circuited at the sight of you in just your bra. The girl he likes was stripped down in front of him, and the reality of it was hitting him harder than any physics equation ever could. His eyes tracked the curve of your breasts, the way they moved as you breathed, and he looked like he was witnessing a miracle.
He swallowed hard and looked up at you, his blue eyes searching yours for permission, still terrified that this was some sort of cruel joke.
"Can I..." he started, voice cracking. He cleared his throat, trying to regain a sliver of composure, though his trembling hands gave him away. "Can I hold them now? Please?"
Quick Note: Part 2 here or go directly on my profile to continue reading.
