queen of disaster

the way this man would grip your waist, and squeeze it, for sure leaving marks. i can’t ever decide if grace is an tits or ass guy so i feel like he’d both knead maybe slap your ass and have his face buried in your chest. he wouldn’t even take your shirt off all the way, just pull it up enough so he can get his mouth on you.

this mouth on this man could kill me!

“that’s it baby, just like that.”

“you’re so good to me, baby”

“look so pretty falling apart on my cock.”

“you think you can speed up a little for me, dear?”

“such a perfect girl. doing such a good job for me,”

he’s a softdom! for sure in the beginning. he wants to make sure he’s taking care of you and he’s enjoying watching you fall apart on his cock. but as you get a hang for it, he’s whimpering, moaning, crying mess. because at the end of the day, this man is touch starved and you feel like absolute heaven squeezing him.

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.

Your legs were spread open for him, seated at the edge of his bed. Naoya was looming above you, hands teasing your clit and eliciting those sweet little whimpers from you. “Ya sure ya want me to finger you with it? I don’t think ya know what you’re getting y’self into.” A smug grin appears on his face, the tips of his fingers teasing your entrance.

“Very — nghh, very sure…”

Naoyas bottom lip gets caught between his teeth as he sinks his fingers inside of your snug cunt. “Don’t go cryin’ if it gets too much then, brat.” You choose to ignore the warning, feeling his fingers finally inside of you is much more appealing. They linger for a moment, feeling the tightness around simply two of his digits. An impatient whine escapes you, hips wiggling in anticipation.

You couldn’t really begin to imagine how it might feel once he starts, 24 times in one second his fingers would be plunging in and out of you. Can you even handle that? The tiniest bit of doubt arises in your head, is it even possible to handle it?

Naoyas eyes shoot up towards your own, giving you a warning glare at your impatience. He could see the sliver of doubt in your eyes, scoffing. “Nah, ya ain’t backin’ down now.” ,he grits out.

You wanted to say something, mouth slightly ajar. But you couldn’t get any words out. Instead, you cry out like an animal as he activates his technique, fingers piston in and out of you at a speed that you couldn’t fathom.

“Oh my —fuuucking god!”

Out of instinct your legs shut around his arm. Naoya groans out of irritation, his free hand yanking them apart. “You better take it now, slut.” An amused, dark chuckle leaves him while you tremble and writhe. Your pussy clenches around his fingers in an unsteady pattern, squelching and gushing as his brutal pace doesn’t let up.

You can’t even see the singular movements of his fingers, it’s all a blur and so overwhelming. Hands clutch and pull on the sheets, trying to ground yourself somehow, somewhere. You’re loud, incredibly loud —and even if you wanted to keep it down, the sheer speed and ecstasy you’re feeling wouldn’t ever let you. “Shush, shut up you-“, Naoya growls while his hand goes to cover your mouth. It doesn’t really do much, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Oh my- my goood Naoya! I can’t- too m-“

His technique stops, fingers slowing down immensely before he completely stills them, pulling his drenched digits out of you with an obscene pop. You take a deep and shaky breath in, chest heaving while you try to calm your trembling legs down.

Naoya takes in your ruined state, his soaked hand, arm and your own legs. You look so deliciously fucked out, whole body can’t stay still. He feels his cock painfully hard in his pants, cursing himself for not doing this any earlier.

“Ya such a messy bitch. Told ya, y’don’t know what ya gettin’ yerself into. Now turn around.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

an

his cock twitches hard inside you, but otherwise he doesn’t move. he stares down at you for a solid three seconds then bursts out laughing so hard the whole bed shakes.

“baby what the actual fuck-”

“no no listen!” you whine, pouting up at him, still clenching around his length because you can’t help it. “they’re so pretty and bright! what if they’re like… mood lighting? or like… orgasm flashlights? do they get super bright when you’re close? i wanna see!”

he’s wheezing now, tears in the corners of his eyes, but his hips start moving again. slow at first, teasing, keeping you right on the edge.

“you’re riding the edge of the biggest orgasm of your life,” he pants between laughs, “and you’re asking if my eyes turn into disco balls when i nut?”

you nod frantically, cheeks flushed pink. “yes! it’s science! cursed energy science! i need data!”

gojo groans, half amused, half feral, and suddenly picks up the pace. every thrust slams you up the mattress, making your tits bounce and your tears smudge your mascara.

“fine,” he growls, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, eyes blazing brighter now. “you want data? i’ll give you fuckin’ data.”

he fucks you stupid, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. one hand slides between you to rub messy circles over your clit, the other pinning your wrists above your head.

“watch,” he pants, voice wrecked. “watch my eyes, princess. see how bright they get when i’m about to fill this tight little pussy.”

you can’t look away. they’re glowing so intense now, electric blue, swirling faster, lighting up every inch of his face and the sight alone makes your tummy coil tight.

“‘toru, ‘toru ohmygod!!”

“yeah?” he snarls, hips stuttering. “gonna cum for me? gonna cream all over my cock while my eyes light up like you wanted?”

you shatter, clenching so hard around him your vision whites out, crying out his name in broken sobs. his eyes flare impossibly bright right as he follows, burying himself deep and spilling hot inside you with a guttural groan, grinding through the aftershocks while those blue lights pulse like they’re matching his heartbeat.

when he finally collapses half on top of you, both of you panting, he’s still chuckling softly against your neck.

“so,” he murmurs, pressing lazy kisses to your sweaty skin, “scientific conclusion: yes. they get brighter when i cum. happy now, my little researcher?”

you giggle weakly, all floaty and blissed out, reaching up to trace the fading glow in his eyes.

“mhm… best experiment ever.” he snorts, pulling you closer.

“you’re ridiculous,” he whispers, voice fond. “and i’m never letting you go.”

•●SUGURU GETO●•

you’re on your knees in the middle of suguru’s quiet bedroom, legs spread wide on the soft rug while he’s got his face buried between your thighs, long black hair spilling over your skin like silk. his tongue is lapping slow, lazy circles around your clit then dipping lower to lap at your entrance, making your hips twitch and your sparkly nails tangle in his hair. he’s humming low against you, the vibrations pulling soft whimpers from your throat and you’re already so close your toes are curling.

“sugu feels so good,” you breathe, voice all floaty and sweet. “you’re so perfect…”

he groans quietly in response, hands sliding up to grip your thighs, keeping you open for him. until your hazy gaze drifts down to the messy half ponytail he’s wearing. strands are falling loose around his face, and suddenly your brain latches on.

“sugu…” you gasp out, thighs squeezing his head just a little as you reach down to play with the loose pieces. “your hair… it’s so pretty. can i braid it? like, right now? it would look so cute with little flowers or something.”

suguru pauses. tongue still pressed flat against your clit, but he doesn’t move. he slowly lifts his head just enough to look up at you through dark lashes, eyes calm, unreadable, a faint sheen of your slick on his lips.

“…braid it?” he repeats, voice low and smooth, that quiet amusement he always carries when you derail him like this.

you nod frantically, cheeks flushed pink, still rocking your hips in tiny needy circles because you can’t stop. “yeah! it’s so long and soft and i could make it all pretty while you… you know… keep going. it’d be romantic!”

he exhales slowly through his nose, a soft, patient sound, and lets his head rest against your inner thigh for a second like he’s deciding how much to indulge you. then he reaches back, pulling the hair tie free so the rest of his hair falls loose around his shoulders.

“you want to play with it that badly?” he murmurs, voice velvet and low. “while i’m tasting you?”

you bite your glossy lip, nodding again, fingers already threading through the dark strands. “please? it’s so silky… and it smells like you…”

geto’s eyes darken, something possessive flickering there. he doesn’t laugh at the sudden shift, just watches you with that steady, intense gaze as he leans back in, tongue flicking slow and teasing over your clit again.

“fine,” he says quietly. “braid it. but you keep those hips right here. if you stop grinding against my mouth, i stop.”

you squeal softly, happy and needy, and start sectioning his hair with trembling fingers while he goes back to eating you out. slow, thorough, like he’s savoring every taste. every time you tug a little too hard or pause to admire how pretty the braid looks, he sucks harder on your clit, making your back arch and a broken moan spill out.

“sugu ohmygod-”

“focus,” he murmurs against you, voice muffled but firm. “braid. or i tie your hands behind your back with it instead.”

you whimper, trying to keep going, fingers fumbling through the strands while he works you higher and higher. the braid is half done, messy and cute, when the pleasure finally snaps. you come hard, clenching around nothing, thighs shaking around his head and crying out his name in soft, shattered sobs.

he doesn’t stop. just keeps licking you through it, gentler now, until you’re trembling and oversensitive. when he finally pulls back, lips shiny, hair half braided and falling in dark waves, he crawls up your body, caging you beneath him.

“look at you,” he whispers, brushing a loose strand behind your ear. “my pretty girl… couldn’t even finish the braid.”

you giggle weakly, all blissed out, reaching up to finish the last bit with shaky fingers. “it’s… still cute…”

he hums low, pressing a slow kiss to your swollen lips so you taste yourself on him. then he flips you over gently, face down, ass up, and slides into you from behind in one smooth thrust making you gasp.

“now,” he says, voice dark and calm against your ear, one hand wrapping around your tousled hair like a handle, “let’s see if you can keep braiding while i fuck you properly.”

•●KENTO NANAMI●•

you’re kneeling between nanami’s spread thighs in your shared dining room, the late afternoon sun slanting through the blinds and painting golden stripes across the polished wood table behind him. his slacks are open just enough, tie still perfectly knotted, sleeves rolled to his elbows like he’s simply taking a brief, necessary break from paperwork. you’ve got one hand wrapped around his thick cock, giving it slow, teasing strokes and your sparkly nails look almost comically delicate against the flushed, veined length.

you’re humming softly to yourself, all focused and sweet, when you suddenly tilt your head and start counting out loud in that breathy, innocent voice.

“one… two… three…” your thumb traces a prominent vein from base to tip, eyes wide with genuine fascination. “four… oh wow, five… six… they’re so pretty, ken. like little rivers. seven-”

nanami’s breathing hitches, his jaw tightens and the hand that was resting calmly on the armrest curls into a fist.

“eight… nine…” you keep counting the veins decorating his length, completely oblivious, other hand cupping his balls gently like you’re handling something precious. “ten… eleven… gosh, there’s so many!”

that’s it.

nanami’s control snaps like a taut wire.

in one smooth, powerful motion he hauls you up by the waist, effortless like you weigh nothing, spins you around and bends you over the table. your palms slap against the cool surface, papers scattering, a pen rolling to the floor with a clatter. your tiny skirt rides up instantly, panties shoved aside without ceremony.

“enough,” he says, voice low, clipped, dangerously calm. the kind of calm that means he’s about to ruin you.

he doesn’t tease. doesn’t ease in. he notches himself at your entrance and thrusts forward in one brutal stroke, burying every thick inch until his hips meet your ass with a sharp slap. you cry out, high and startled, nails scraping the wood.

“ken-!”

“quiet.” one big hand clamps over the small of your back, pinning you down. the other grips your hip hard, his expensive watch digging into your soft skin with every punishing snap of his hips. “you want to count? then count how many times i make you come before you forget your own name.”

he fucks you like he’s trying to imprint himself into your body, deep and hard, the table creaking under the force. every thrust shoves you forward, tits pressed flat against the paperwork, sparkly lip gloss smearing across a contract you’re pretty sure is important. his watch leaves faint red crescents on your hip with each brutal grind, a perfect little brand of his restraint finally breaking.

“look at you,” he mutters, voice rougher now, strained. “distracting me with your pretty little hands and your ridiculous questions. this what you wanted? me losing control?”

you can only whimper, nodding frantically, thighs trembling. the angle is merciless. he’s hitting that spot over and over, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the otherwise quiet room. one of his hands slides up to fist your hair gently, tilting your head back just enough so he can see your flushed face, your teary eyes.

“come on my cock,” he orders, low and firm. “now. show me how sorry you are for teasing.”

you shatter almost instantly, clenching around him so hard your vision whites out, a broken sob of his name spilling from your lips. he doesn’t slow down. keeps pounding through your orgasm until you’re shaking, oversensitive, pleading only then does he finally follow with a low, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside you, hips grinding slow circles like he wants to make sure you feel every pulse.

when he finally stills, he doesn’t pull out right away. just leans over you, chest to your back, breathing hard against your neck. his watch is still pressed to your hip, warm metal, faint imprint already blooming pink against your skin.

you’re both panting when you whisper, all soft and dazed, “do you think… there were twelve veins? i lost count after eleven…”

nanami exhales. a long, slow, long suffering sigh and presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to the shell of your ear.

“we’ll count them again later,” he murmurs, voice gruff but fond. “after i’ve fucked the curiosity out of you properly.”

he finally eases out, turns you around, and lifts you onto the table so you’re sitting facing him. his hands smooth over your thighs, thumb brushing the watch shaped mark on your hip like he’s inspecting his work.

“next time,” he says quietly, “keep your hands to yourself until i say otherwise.”

you giggle weakly, nuzzling into his chest.

he sighs, but his arms wrap around you anyway.

•●CHOSO KAMO●•

choso’s sitting up against the headboard in his dimly lit bedroom, dark hair messy across the pillow, eyes heavy and half lidded as you straddle his lap, thighs spread wide while you ride him slow and filthy. your tiny skirt’s shoved up around your waist, nails clawing at his shoulders and his big hands grip your hips, helping you bounce down hard onto his thick cock every time you drop.

“fuck, baby… so tight,” he groans low, voice rough and wrecked, thumbs digging into your soft skin. “keep taking it like that my greedy little slut.”

you’re moaning, head thrown back, tits bouncing under your crop top until your gaze locks on the sharp black blood manipulation mark stretched across the bridge of his nose. it cuts over his features like a wicked slash, and in the low light it looks almost alive. your brain zeros in instantly.

you slow your hips to a dirty grind, still stuffed full of him and lean in close, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses right along the mark. then you drag the flat of your tongue over it, slow teasing laps from one cheekbone to the other like you’re tasting candy.

choso’s whole body jerks. his cock throbs hard inside your dripping pussy, hands clamping down on your hips so tight it stings.

“shit- baby-” his voice cracks, raw and desperate.

you hum against his face, tongue flicking over the mark again in filthy circles, savoring the faint salt of his skin and that dark, addictive taste that’s pure him. “it’s so sexy, choso… like a hot little tattoo. does it make your cock twitch when i lick it?”

he shudders violently, hips bucking up involuntarily ,burying himself deeper with a choked groan.

“no one’s… ever put their mouth there,” he rasps, voice thick with lust. “fuck- keep going. don’t stop.”

you smirk, all bratty and needy, and drag your tongue along the mark again, long, wet stripes this time while you grind down harder, clenching around his length like a vice.

“like this?” you purr against his skin, tongue swirling right over the center. “you gonna cum just from me licking your pretty mark?”

that breaks him.

choso’s hands dig bruises into your hips and he starts fucking up into you, hard, fast, erratic, cock slamming deep with every desperate thrust. the wet slap of your pussy taking him fills the room, obscene and loud.

“fuck fuck- can’t hold it,” he growls, eyes rolling back. “you’re gonna make me-”

he comes hard, sudden and messy, spilling deep inside you with a guttural moan, hips jerking as thick ropes of cum flood your cunt. you feel every hot pulse, every twitch, and it drags a filthy little whimper from your throat.

but he doesn’t stop.

he keeps pounding through it, cock still rock hard, still throbbing, fucking his own cum deeper into you with sloppy, greedy thrusts. his hands yank you down until your tits are smashed against his chest, mouth right against your ear.

“again,” he pants, voice wrecked and demanding. “lick it again. make me cum inside you twice. fuck, i need it.”

you moan, tongue immediately dragging over the mark once again while you rock your hips to meet every brutal snap of his.

“a-ah! fuck cho- yes-”

he snarls low in his throat, pace turning feral, fucking you so hard the headboard bangs against the wall. the wet squelch of your cum stuffed pussy is shameless, dripping down his balls.

“cum on my cock,” he growls. “milk me dry. now.”

you shatter around him. clenching tight, screaming his name as your orgasm rips through you. the squeeze sends him over the edge again. he buries himself balls deep and comes a second time, even harder this time, flooding you with another thick load, hips grinding like he wants to keep every drop locked inside.

when it finally ends, he’s panting against your neck, cock still twitching inside your overfilled pussy. his hands stay locked on your hips, holding you down so you can’t move.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice rough and satisfied. “no one’s ever made me lose it like that. licking my mark while you ride me stupid.”

you giggle breathlessly, nuzzling against his cheek, tongue flicking out for one last teasing swipe over the mark.

“gonna do it every time now,” you whisper, all smug and floaty. “love how hard it makes you cum inside me.”

he groans low, hips giving one last lazy grind.

“good girl,” he rasps, pressing a rough kiss to your jaw. “keep that up and i’ll fill you till you’re leaking for days.”

you melt against him, already clenching around his softening cock.

•●TAKUMA INO●•

takuma’s got you on your back in the middle of his messy bedroom floor, the rug soft under your shoulders while he’s settled between your thighs, cock buried deep and slow rolling his hips in lazy, perfect circles that make your toes curl. your legs are hooked loosely around his back, sparkly nails tracing random patterns on his shoulders as he fucks you with that easy, goofy rhythm he always falls into when he’s lost in you.

“god baby, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, voice low and breathless, forehead pressed to yours. “so wet… so tight… like you were made for me.”

you’re moaning softly, all floaty and happy, until your brain takes one of its classic detours. your eyes flutter open, locking on his face sweaty, flushed, grinning that lopsided grin and the thought hits you like glitter exploding in your head.

“takuma… wait… wait a second,” you breathe out, hips still rocking up to meet his even as you cup his cheeks. “what if… what if our souls are fucking too? like… right now? while our bodies are doing this… are our souls just… banging in some cosmic plane?”

ino freezes. mid thrust. cock throbbing inside you, but he doesn’t move.

he blinks down at you once. twice. then a slow, delighted grin spreads across his face.

“holy shit,” he whispers, eyes sparkling. “that’s… that’s actually kinda deep, princess.”

you giggle, cheeks flushing pink, clenching around him just to feel him twitch. “right? like… maybe this is what the universe wants. two souls slamming into each other forever. maybe that’s the whole point of everything.”

he laughs soft, warm, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. he pulls back just enough to look at you properly, then leans in and kisses you slow and messy, tongue sliding against yours like he’s tasting the idea itself.

“maybe,” he murmurs against your lips, hips giving one lazy roll that makes you whimper. “maybe this is the meaning of life. you and me. souls fucking. bodies fucking. all of it.”

he starts moving again, every thrust punctuated by another soft kiss to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone.

“or maybe,” he whispers, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a filthy grind, “the meaning is just… making you giggle while i’m balls deep inside you.”

you burst into giggles, the sound turning into a moan when he hits that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes. “takuma ohmygod that’s so cheesy”

“cheesy and true,” he says, grinning wider. he stops moving entirely, buried to the hilt, and just holds there letting you feel every thick inch while he kisses you again, slow and sweet and silly.

“think about it,” he mumbles between kisses. “big bang? maybe that was just two souls meeting for the first time and going ‘oh fuck yes, let’s do this forever.’”

you’re laughing so hard your whole body shakes, pussy fluttering around him and he groans at the sensation.

“stop stop making me laugh while you’re inside me!” you whine, but you’re still giggling, hips squirming.

“can’t help it,” he pants, starting to move again faster now, deeper. “you’re too cute. too perfect. gotta philosophize while i fuck you stupid.”

he keeps going thrusting hard and steady stopping every few strokes just to lean down and kiss you again, whispering dumb, beautiful nonsense against your mouth.

“maybe enlightenment is cumming so hard you forget your own name,” he groans, one hand sliding between you to rub messy circles over your clit. “maybe nirvana is your pussy squeezing me like this.”

you’re moaning and laughing at the same time now, tears of pleasure and amusement pricking your lashes.

“takuma, takuma please”

“yeah?” he pants, hips snapping faster. “gonna cum for me, baby? gonna let our souls high five while you cream all over my cock?”

that does it. you shatter around him clenching tight, crying out in broken giggles and moans, orgasm ripping through you like fireworks. he follows right after with a low, wrecked groan, burying himself deep and spilling inside you, hips grinding slow and filthy through the aftershocks.

when he finally collapses half on top of you, both of you panting and sweaty and still tangled together, he presses a lazy kiss to your forehead.

“so,” he whispers, voice hoarse and happy, “meaning of life achieved?”

you giggle weakly, nuzzling into his neck. “achieved. multiple times.”

•●HIROMI HIGURUMA●•

higuruma has you bent over his heavy oak desk in the quiet home office, the single desk lamp casting warm shadows across scattered legal briefs while he stands behind you, tie loose, sleeves rolled to his elbows, cock sliding into your dripping pussy with slow, measured strokes that make the wood creak softly.

his voice stays low and precise, that same courtroom cadence rolling over you like a verdict.

“you’re taking every inch so obediently,” he says quietly, each word calm and authoritative. “such a good girl for me, even after a long day.”

you’re whimpering, nails digging into the papers, trying to focus on the deep stretch—until he speaks again in that rich, commanding tone, and your brain completely pivots.

“hiromi,” you gasp out, pushing back against him just enough to make him pause. “your voice… it’s so sexy when you talk like that. like you’re in court. can you… can you sentence me? sentence me to more dick? please?”

higuruma stills. cock buried deep, but motionless.

he exhales slowly through his nos, the sound of a man who has heard every absurd claim and is now hearing one mid fuck.

“…sentence you,” he repeats, voice flat and dry. “to more dick.”

you nod fast, cheeks flushed, clenching around him. “yes! like… ‘the court finds you guilty of being too needy… sentence: hard fucking until you cry sparkly tears.’ please? use the voice.”

he pauses a long second, dark eyes unreadable behind his glasses, then the tiniest twitch pulls at his mouth.

“very well,” he says, voice dropping to that exact domain expansion timbre, smooth and unyielding. “the court has considered the evidence. the defendant is found guilty of chronic distraction, excessive prettiness, and criminal cock teasing.”

he pulls back slow, agonizingly slow, then slams forward in one hard thrust that makes your palms slide across the desk and a sharp cry spill from your lips.

“sentence,” he continues, hips snapping in a steady, brutal rhythm that rocks the desk, “is immediate execution by deep, relentless fucking until the defendant is a sobbing, sparkly wreck. no parole.”

you moan brokenly, thighs shaking, tears already welling up as he pins you with one hand on your lower back.

“look at this filthy little slut,” he murmurs, still in that perfect courtroom tone while pounding harder. “taking her punishment so eagerly. the court approves.”

every word lands heavy and resonant, vibrating through youuntil you’re dripping around him, mascara streaking, lip gloss smeared.

“hiro-hiromi please-”

“silence,” he orders softly, leaning over you, one hand circling your clit with precise pressure. “the defendant will come when instructed. not before.”

you sob, sparkly tears spilling freely now and clench so tight he finally falters, a low curse slipping out as he fucks you faster.

“good girl,” he praises, voice rougher at the edges. “crying so prettily while you serve your sentence. highly satisfactory.”

the desk rattles, papers scatter, and you shatter, clenching hard, screaming his name in teary sobs. he follows with a restrained groan, burying deep and spilling inside you, grinding slow to push every drop where it belongs.

he stays inside you after, breathing steady against your neck, thumb gently wiping a tear from your cheek.

“sentence served,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “court adjourned.”

you sniffle-giggle, still trembling. “retrial tomorrow?”

higuruma sighs, fond and adoring and kisses your temple. “denied. but supplementary sessions are… encouraged.”

you melt against the desk, still full of him.

•●RYOMEN SUKUNA●•

you’re sprawled across the massive silk sheets in sukuna’s private chambers, legs spread wide, tiny little yukata barely clinging to your shoulders while he’s got you pinned beneath him. four strong arms hold you in place, two gripping your wrists above your head, one wrapped around your throat just tight enough to make your head spin and the last one digging bruises into your hip as he fucks into you with brutal, punishing thrusts.

his cock is thick and merciless, stretching you open every time he slams home, making your sparkly nails claw at the sheets and your glossy lips part in broken little whimpers. “s-sukuna ohmygod!! too deep-”

“quiet,” he growls, voice low and dangerous, crimson eyes narrowed down at you. “you take what i give you, little thing. every inch.”

he’s relentless, hips snapping hard, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room until your hazy gaze drifts past his shoulder to the doorway.

one of the younger male servants is standing there, frozen, tray of sake still in his hands. he’s pretty. soft features, dark hair falling into wide eyes and he’s staring right at you, cheeks flushed, clearly unable to look away from the way your tits bounce with every brutal thrust.

you blink slowly, brain all fuzzy and pleasure drunk, and without thinking you whisper, “he’s… kinda cute…”

sukuna stops. completely.

the air in the room turns thick, heavy, like the moment before a storm breaks.

his hand tightens around your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who owns you. his other three arms flex, muscles rippling as he slowly turns his head toward the servant.

the poor boy drops the tray. sake shatters across the floor. he stammers something incoherent and starts backing away, but sukuna’s voice cuts through like a blade.

“leave. now. or i’ll rip your spine out through your mouth.”

the servant flees so fast he nearly trips over his own feet.

sukuna’s gaze snaps back to you, dark, dangerous, burning with something possessive and furious. his lips curl into a wicked, predatory smile that shows every sharp tooth.

“cute?” he repeats, voice dangerously soft. “you think he’s cute?”

you whimper, trying to squirm under him, but he holds you pinned. “i-i didn’t mean-”

“oh, you meant it,” he snarls, suddenly yanking your hips up higher so he can drive into you even deeper and harder, making your back arch off the bed with a sharp cry. “my little dumb slut, getting distracted by some worthless insect while i’m fucking you stupid.”

he starts pounding into you with punishing force, each thrust slamming you up the bed, making your tits bounce wildly, your sparkly tears smudging your mascara. one of his hands slides down to rub rough circles over your clit, too much sensation all at once.

“look at me,” he commands, gripping your chin so hard your lips pout. “eyes on your king. not some pathetic servant who wouldn’t last a second in your tight little cunt.”

you nod frantically, sobbing with pleasure and overstimulation. “s-sukuna please- i’m sorry!”

“sorry?” he laughs, dark and cruel. “you’ll be sorry when i fuck every thought of him out of that empty head.”

he flips you over in one brutal motion, face down, ass up, then slams back inside you from behind, one hand fisting your hair to yank your head back so you’re forced to look at him over your shoulder.

“say it,” he growls, hips snapping so hard the whole bedframe groans. “say who you belong to.”

“y-you sukuna, only you-”

“louder.”

“only you! only sukuna, fuck please-”

he curses under his breath, pace turning feral and rough, animalisti until you’re screaming his name, clenching around him so hard he snarls and spills deep inside you with a guttural groan, filling you until it’s dripping down your thighs.

when he finally pulls out, you collapse onto the sheets, trembling and dazed. he rolls you onto your back with surprising gentleness, looming over you, four hands stroking over your skin like he’s claiming every inch.

“next time you look at anyone but me,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous against your ear, “i’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week. understood?”

you nod weakly, all floaty and happy despite the ache between your legs. “yes, sukuna…”

he smirks, pressing a rare soft kiss to your swollen lips.

“good girl.”

•●TOJI FUSHIGURO●•

toji has you folded in half on the bed, knees shoved up to your chest in a tight mating press, ankles hooked over his broad shoulders while he rails into you with slow, punishing thrusts that make the headboard smack the wall every time he bottoms out. your clothes long gone, panties shredded somewhere on the floor, and you're clawing uselessly at his scarred forearms as he pins you down with his weight, scarred lips curled in that lazy, dangerous smirk.

“fuck, doll… this pussy’s takin’ me like it was made for it,” he rasps, voice rough and smug, hips snapping forward hard enough to punch a high whimper out of you. “still so tight even after all the times i’ve stretched you stupid.”

you’re moaning, head thrown back and tears of pleasure pricking your lashes when your hazy eyes catch on the faint gray at his temples, the deep lines around his eyes when he grins, the way his muscles flex like he’s still got everything to prove. the thought slips out before you can stop it, all sweet and oblivious while your hips still buck up to meet every brutal slam.

“toji… you’re so old,” you gasp between moans, voice breathy and innocent like you’re just noticing the weather. “are your knees gonna give out? like… a-are you gonna collapse mid thrust? do old guys get tired faster? should i be on top s-so you don’t hurt yourself?”

toji freezes. cock buried balls deep, throbbing angrily inside your fluttering cunt but he doesn’t move an inch. then he lets out a low, dark chuckle that vibrates through your whole body and makes your pussy clench involuntarily.

“old, huh?” he repeats, voice dangerously soft, scarred lips brushing your ear. “you think this old man’s gonna tap out while he’s balls deep in your greedy little hole?”

before you can answer he yanks your legs higher, folding you even tighter until your knees are practically by your ears and slams back in with one brutal thrust that makes your eyes roll back and a sharp cry rip from your throat.

“keep talkin’ shit about my age, doll,” he growls, hips pistoning faster now, harder, every snap of his waist driving him deeper than before. “tell me again how old i am while i breed this tight cunt full. go on. see if my knees give out before i make you scream.”

you whimper, trying to form words but only managing broken moans as he pounds you into the mattress, the wet slap of skin on skin loud and filthy, your poor pussy stretched wide around his thick length.

“toji- toji you’re… you’re so strong for an old guy-!”

he laughs meanly again and shifts his grip, one big hand wrapping around your throat just enough to tilt your head back while the other pins your hip down so you can’t squirm away from the relentless pounding.

“that’s right,” he snarls against your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip. “old enough to know exactly how to fuck a bratty little thing like you stupid. old enough to fill this pussy up until it’s leakin’ me for days. now cum, cum while you’re beggin’ this old man not to stop.”

the angle’s merciless, he’s hitting that spot over and over, cock dragging against every sensitive inch and the filthy words combined with the brutal rhythm send you over the edge. you shatter around him, clenching so hard your vision whites out, screaming his name in teary, broken sobs as your orgasm rips through you.

toji follows right after with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and spilling thick and hot inside you, hips grinding deep like he’s trying to make sure every drop stays where it belongs.

when he finally stills, he doesn’t pull out. just keeps you folded beneath him, breathing hard against your neck, scarred lips brushing your temple in a soft kiss.

“still think my knees are gonna give out, doll?” he mutters, voice gruff and satisfied.

you giggle weakly through the aftershocks, nuzzling into his neck. “no, you’re perfect. even if you’re ancient.”

he huffs a rough laugh, nipping your earlobe hard enough to make you squeak.

“keep talkin’ like that and this ancient cock’s gonna breed you again. right now.”

•●SHIU KONG●•

shiu relaxes on the worn leather couch in his dimly lit living room, legs spread, cigarette glowing between his lips as you straddle his lap sideways, skirt shoved up around your hips. his hand is between your thighs, two fingers sliding slow and deep into your soaked pussy while his thumb grazes lazy circles over your clit.

“look at you, princess,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth. “already dripping down my fingers clenching like you’re scared i’ll stop.”

you’re whimpering, head tipped back against his shoulder, nails digging into his forearm until the sharp scent of tobacco hits you again and your brain latches on.

“shiu,” you gasp out, thighs shaking around his wrist even as you squirm in his lap. “smoking is so bad for you… like, really really bad. your lungs are probably all black and gross inside. you’re gonna get sick and then who’s gonna finger me like this? you have to quit, okay? promise me-”

shiu doesn’t stop moving. his fingers keep stroking that perfect spot inside you, pressing harder now while he takes a long, deep drag from the cigarette without breaking eye contact.

he exhales slowly through his nose first, then leans in close, lips brushing yours.

“open,” he says quietly, voice calm but edged with that dry amusement he saves just for your lectures.

you part your lips automatically, because when he uses that tone you always obey, and he blows the smoke directly into your mouth, thick and warm, filling your lungs until you cough softly, eyes watering and cheeks flushing hotter.

“there,” he murmurs, thumb pressing firmer on your clit while his fingers crook harder against your gspot, rubbing in tight, relentless circles. “now you’ve got a taste of how bad it is. still wanna keep preaching, princess?”

you try to answer, you really do, but the smoke and the pressure inside you turn your words into a broken whimper. your hips jerk in his lap, pussy fluttering around his fingers, slick dripping down his wrist and soaking the front of his pants.

“sh-shiu! please-”

he chuckles low, taking another drag then leans in again, this time blowing the smoke slower, letting it curl between your lips while his fingers fuck faster, deeper, hitting that spot over and over until your thighs start to shake violently against his.

“you gonna keep talking?” he whispers against your mouth, voice low and dark. “or are you gonna cum like a good girl and squirt all over my hand?”

the combination, the smoke in your lungs, the filthy words, the perfect pressure on your gspot snaps something inside you.

your back arches in his lap with a high, shattered cry, pussy clenching hard around his fingers as you cum hard, squirting messily over his hand and wrist soaking the sleeve of his shirt and the couch beneath you both. your whole body shakes, tears of pleasure spilling down your cheeks, sparkly mascara streaking while you sob his name in broken little gasps.

shiu doesn’t stop right away. he keeps stroking through it, slower now, drawing out every tremor until you’re whimpering from overstimulation, thighs quivering in his hold.

only then does he ease his fingers out, slick and glistening, and brings them to your lips.

“clean them,” he says softly, still holding the cigarette between two fingers of his other hand. “taste how good you came for me, even while you were lecturing.”

you part your lips again, obedient as always, and suck his fingers clean, tongue swirling around them while he watches with that lazy, satisfied smirk.

he finally stubs the cigarette out in the nearby ashtray, pulls you closer against his chest and presses a slow kiss to your temple.

“still think i should quit?” he murmurs against your hair, voice gruff and fond.

you nod weakly against his shoulder, still catching your breath.

“yes… but maybe after you make me squirt again.”

he chuckles low, already sliding his hand back between your thighs. “deal, princess.”

•●NAOYA ZEN'IN●•

naoya has you bent over the long mahogany table in the dining hall of the zenin estate, skirt shoved up to your waist, panties yanked to the side while he fucks you from behind with sharp, arrogant thrusts that rattle the crystal decanter sitting nearby. one hand fists your hair to keep your cheek pressed to the polished surface, the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise, rings digging in with every punishing snap of his hips.

“fuckin’ take it,” he sneers, voice low and smug. “bent over my family table like the desperate little slut you are. should be honored i’m even touching this sloppy cunt.”

you’re moaning, tears streaking down your cheeks, ass bouncing back to meet him until your glassy eyes drift across the room and land on the ugly mustard yellow drapes, the chipped lacquer on the antique chairs, the dusty tapestry that looks like it’s been hanging there since the sengoku period. your brain completely derails.

“naoya…” you gasp between moans, hips still rocking back greedily even as you twist your head to glance around. “this room looks so bad… like really ugly. those curtains are awful and everything’s so dark and old. i’m gonna have to change it all soon… maybe some pink and white? or cute little fairy lights? we can’t keep living with this decor, it’s depressing-”

naoya stops dead. cock buried balls deep, throbbing angrily inside your fluttering pussy, but he doesn’t pull out. the hall goes dangerously quiet except for your panting and the faint creak of the table under your palms.

then he lets out a slow, mocking laugh, cold and sharp, the kind that makes your stomach flip.

“the decor,” he repeats, voice dripping disdain. “you’re getting railed on my ancestral table and you’re critiquing the fucking curtains?”

before you can answer he yanks your head back harder by the hair, forcing your spine to arch until your tits press flat to the wood.

“stupid little girl,” he growls against your ear, free hand sliding around to pinch your clit meanly. “thinking about redecorating while i’m splitting your cunt open. you think you get to decide what happens in this house?”

he starts fucking you again harder, faster, punishing each thrust slamming you into the table so hard the crystal decanter rattles dangerously. the portraits on the walls seem to glare harder, but you can barely see them through the tears and the way your vision blurs every time he bottoms out.

“keep talkin’ about the curtains,” he snarls, hips snapping with brutal precision. “tell me how much you hate the drapes while i breed this worthless pussy full. maybe if you’re lucky i’ll let you pick new ones… after i’ve fucked every thought of pink fairy lights out of your empty head.”

you sob high and broken pussy clenching around him like a vice as the mean words and relentless pounding send you spiraling. your orgasm hits like a slap shattering through you, squirting messily down his cock and thighs while you scream his name into the mahogany.

naoya follows with a low, arrogant groan burying himself deep and spilling thick ropes inside you, hips grinding like he wants to carve his claim into your womb.

when he finally pulls out he spins you around, lifts you onto the table so your ass is perched on the edge, legs dangling, cum already leaking out of you onto the polished wood. he steps between your thighs, grabs your chin, and forces you to look at the ugly yellow drapes across the room.

“next time you get distracted by my family’s decor mid fuck,” he murmurs, thumb smearing your tears and gloss across your cheek, “i’ll bend you over every ugly piece of furniture in this house until you forget what color you wanted to paint the walls. understood?”

you nod shakily, still trembling, a dazed little smile on your tear streaked face.

“yes, naoya… but the curtains really are hideous…”

he smirks, pressing a mocking kiss to your forehead. “good girl. we’ll burn them tomorrow.”

You take his thumb in between your lips for a moment to suck, your hips unconsciously rocking forward to feel more of him—more of his thickening cock that's busy jumping up against the fabric between you both. You longed to feel him fuck you full again and kiss that spongey spot inside you that always makes you sob out his name.

Batting your lashes pliantly, your lips wetly pop off of him as you pout, "Please, Hiro?"

Higuruma shakes his head almost disappointedly, "Please what, sweetheart? If you can beg, you can beg properly. Tell me exactly what it is you want from me, yeah?"

"I told you already," Your pout deepens and he fights the urge to mock you. "I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me."

"Atta' girl, that's all I wanted to hear." He rolls his hips up slowly to grind up against your slobbering cunt, swallowing down a groan at how soft you feel even with all the water between your bodies. "Go on then, take it. You know it's all yours."

You don't waste a single second upon hearing that. Your hands fly down to tug at his belt, letting it fling out of the tub and land somewhere on the bathroom floor with a rough clatter—shuffling beneath the bath water to unzip him, and then reaching a hand into his boxers to finally pull his cock free.

The plump head flops out first, landing up against his clothed abdomen with that sinful left curve. The sight alone has you letting out an embarrassingly desperate moan before you lift yourself and let his hands guide you by your waist until you're hovering over him.

Then, you hesitate for a second and he lifts a dark brow.

"Don't get shy on me now," Higuruma warns, tipping his head to the side and letting his grip travel down to your hips to ease your body where he needs it, "You said you wanted to ride me so, ride me. Show me how pretty you look taking my cock, c'mon."

Feeling a bit more encouraged, you finally let your hand wrap around his wiiide base and hold him in place as you sink down on him. His mushroomy tip smears your pussylips apart and chokes a moan out of both of your throats. Your lashes flutter as you continue to travel down—inch by sprawling inch—and his eyes never leave your body.

"So gorgeous," Higuruma whispers softly before using one hand to push you further down and the other to come up 'n squeeze your tits.

It's not long before both of you are getting into the rhythm of things. By the time your cunt swallows up every inch of him, left to clench and throb around his bulging base, Higuruma's got his lips latched to your perky nipples, sucking it into his mouth and letting his tongue waft around carefree.

The feel of his sloppy mouth is only lost when you get more desperate, your hips now rocking up 'n down his cock as he thwacks! against that gummy spot inside you over and over and over again.

Then his hips are bucking up into yours and the bath water is just splashing and splashing, a pool left on the outskirts of the tub—surely to be a hazard for the two of you later. His hands are at the purchase of your hips again, aiding you in your bouncing while he peers up at you with pretty glossed-over eyes.

Higuruma's a mess of pants and soft praises, words rolling off of his tongue, "Look s'beautiful fucking yourself on my cock like that. Bet it feels s'good, huh?" He teases, earning a cockdrunk nod of your head and then cracking a dazed smile at you, "Yeahh? You like fucking yourself on me like this?"

Your response is mumbled out to him but he gets the idea with how frantic your movements become.

Only a few more minutes of that pass before he's pinning you in place above him and scrunching his brows, staring dead up into your eyes before bucking his hips up with fervor.

Whatever moan was on its way out your throat trips against your vocal cords as air is politely stripped from your lungs.

Then his breath grows ragged and all thoughts between you are lost before something soooobs out his cockhead in gooey gushes, his cum flooding your walls and feeling all the more goopy inside you with the addition of the bathwater.

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