Cecil Stedman my love ❤️

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.”

It was young love. Something harsh yet full of passion. 

Built over bars and coffee dates, late nights, and promises you weren’t sure either of you would even keep, it was a fire that burned quick and bright. Leaving aches and hidden scars all over, ones you wouldn’t even feel or know they were there until they scabbed. 

He was older, you were freshly out of college. 

A defense attorney with a life already built and a girl with her life ahead of her. 

In your vows, he promised the world at your very fingertips. His heart and soul yours to keep. You promised him the rest of your life. 

And it was good. The life you lived together. 

A cute apartment in Tokyo, fancy dinners, late night talks in your tiny kitchen. Sunlight coming in from the windows and covering your bodies as he touched you with a gentleness that felt grounding. 

His lips were soft against your skin, whispering sweet words no boys your age could ever imagine saying. 

He brought you gifts, small “it made me think of you”’s written on tiny sticky pads that littered themselves all across your home. 

His hands always stayed at your hips, holding you close to him. In line at the grocery store, while you cooked dinner or even just got ready. The feeling of his fingertips squeezing flesh stayed and surrounded you even when he wasn’t there. 

And at night he would renew it all over again. 

Your hips tilted high, your cheek in the pillow as you tried to muffle your moans. 

His hands squeezed you softly, before you felt his palm make its way down to the base of your spine. He would press down at your back, deepening the arch you held while his heavy hips met with yours.

His moans were low, deep groans in your ear as he whispered words only a lover could.

“So tight.”

“So good for me.” 

His hands always drifted back to your hips and held you tightly, fingertips digging into your supple flesh as his strokes became heavier and deeper with every thrust. 

“Good girl, you’re mine.” 

His pace would quicken, your combined whimpers growing desperate in the thick air of the room. 

“I love you.” 

“My love, my only love.”

He would whimper over and over when he was close. And when his hand moved to intertwine your fingers with his own, you felt him spill deep inside of you. 

His presence was heavy, surrounding and filling you inside until you couldn’t breathe. 

Your body ached with the marks he left you with, but it made you happy. Being his. 

It made his vows feel real, a reminder of the promise he was meant to keep. 

But as a bright flame does, the passion burned quick, fading away too fast. 

Time went on, life started to pull you apart.

His job at the law firm began to demand more of him. He started working late into the night, leaving home earlier than usual and constantly bringing work with him back the few times he allowed himself to rest from the office. 

Cases that he shouldn’t be so invested in turned into cases that consumed his entire being, the bags beneath his eyes growing until that tired stare that used to look at you with love became unrecognizable. 

He was consumed by it. The strong sense of justice within his heart pulled him in and pushed you away. 

You waited, told yourself you were satisfied with whatever it was he still managed to give you. 

Told yourself that his soft ‘i love you’ and ‘i miss you’s were enough as they filled your ears. That the quick touches he gave you still made you feel complete. 

You said nothing, did nothing but held your tongue. Told yourself that him being here was simply enough. 

Until eventually, the weak kisses stopped too. 

His soft whispers faded into lousy ‘working late, you can go to bed’ texts. His hands only seemed to be able to grip the countless papers he brought home with him every night instead of you. 

Then one night, in the dim light of your empty bedroom as you waited for him to come home, did you realize just how different the two of you were after all. 

A relationship built on burning coal. Stolen glances, quick hands and tender touches, long kisses and not enough words to truly know the other. 

You realized too late that you needed love, to be held like dripping water from a sacred stream to feel alive. He needed support, a pillar to keep him up and grounded. 

Passion and action were your currency, his was simply being there. 

A defense attorney and a girl who had her life ahead of her.

The differences between the two of you started to burn in the wedding band he gave you. 

The cold promises he whispered melted in the gold squeezing across your skin. And then everything else started to crack. 

The softness of your home became tense, words being bitten back as arguments you started kept being put on hold. 

It was the little things mostly. The way he left his shoes at the door and didn't bother to put them in the rack. His tie being thrown on the floor as he undressed, his jacket wrinkled when you hadn’t found the time to iron it. The way you seemed to lounge about the house, never doing anything and hardly having a life. 

It was small comments, whispers. 

He nibbled, you bit and chewed loud enough to try to get a reaction out. He never gave in.

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

The life he promised became too small, the world he gave you too restrained. Trapped inside of an apartment you couldn’t even escape or feel like it was yours anymore, everywhere you looked you were reminded of him. 

His face, his clothes, his utensils and utilities that he had bought only for you. But none of it was really yours anyways. 

Living felt like a prison, the wedding band your chains. 

It was solid evidence that you were still his, in name and in law, but you weren’t even sure if he was yours anymore. 

“I think we should get a divorce.” You finally managed to say to him one night. The words rushed and unsure as you blurted them out, your tongue heavy with the tears you bit back from spilling from your eyes. 

You words were as loud as a pin dropping in the silence of your home. 

You said them at dinner, the only one he’d managed to make it back in time to catch in months. 

His eyes, the one that seemed to soften and fill with words he never said when he looked at you, went blank. 

They didn’t judge, they didn’t search or stare. Just… blank. 

Dumbfounded. Lost. 

The fork in his hand trembled before he put it down, and that lost look went away with a blink.

He coughed, “Are you sure?” And his voice was thick with something you couldn’t recognize. 

“Yes.” You said too quickly, your heart pounding in time with the gavel still ringing at the back of your head. 

He only nodded before finishing his meal. 

He was a lawyer after all. Though not a divorce one, he tried his best and knew how to make the process the least messy as possible. Quiet and smooth, steady. The opposite of how this all had started in the first place. 

You tell yourself you should be thankful for it. The fact he didn’t put up a fight, he did what you wanted and asked as he always had. 

But it only made the anger inside of your chest burn hotter, brighter than before. 

Why didn’t he put up a fight? How could he give up so easily? On you, on this marriage. 

Though you supposed you’d already done the same to him a long time ago. 

But still, it made you wonder. Was it all nothing to him? 

☆

Days went by, the agreement still hung heavy in the air of your home. 

It lingered loudly, like a foul smell from something nasty that you couldn’t seem to forget. It clung to your skin, sticking to every strand of your hair and settling into the very clothes you wore. 

You felt it in your bed, the remaining warmth of him finally slipping away as he moved to sleeping on the couch since that night. 

You never realized just how big the room was, how cold it seemed when he wasn’t there besides you. Sure, you’d already spent months like this, alone and clinging onto the safety of a blanket that only smelled like him. But even then, the soft scent of coffee and cigarettes still held the promise of him coming back to you within each thread.  

He hardly looked at you now, his eyes only stealing passing glances before walking away. 

His every movement was slow, quiet and calculated as to not bother you.

He made no noise when he came into the room to get ready. The sound of him brushing his teeth barely reaching past a hum in the apartment before he came back out to prepare his coffee like a whisper. 

He left for work early, he came back home even later. 

You knew it was for distance, he was giving you the space you hadn’t even found the courage to ask for. Yet, why did it still feel like he was everywhere? 

His absence felt louder now, real in the way it hadn’t felt before. 

Why did it make you miss him?

You tried to forget it, to calm down at the reality you were now facing and no longer imagining. 

Divorce. Separation. Leaving. Real. Happening. The words looped over and over in your mind as you tried to process them. 

“It takes some time to even get the papers, but we’ll sign them right away when we get them.” He told you before heading out to work this morning. 

Thinking about them now almost made bile spit up from your throat, your body locking up as you waited and watched the front door from the corner of your eye.

It was late, the city lights twinkling like stars outside of your windows, and he still hadn’t come back home. But when was the last time he even came back on time?

You sat on the couch, curled up with your knees to your chest watching some cheesy romantic comedy when you heard the faint jingle of keys. 

Your ears perked up, body involuntarily tensing as the door handle rattled. 

A bang, a thump, and more rattling came from the other side. 

Your brows furrowed, confusion settling in as you got half the mind to walk up and see what was wrong, but a few seconds later it finally opened. 

And in came a stumbling, disheveled Hiromi. 

In the time you had been together, you had never known him to be anything but the well groomed and put together man he was. His suit was never creased, his hair always combed back and not a piece of lint clung onto him. Though his eyes were always tired, permanent bags beneath the skin, they were never anything but focused and aware. 

But this. This man suddenly standing in front of you was not the husband you had come to know.

His hair is messy, strands falling over his forehead and blocking the view of his eyes. His jacket is wrinkled, the shirt beneath crumbled up like some paper ball come undone. The top few buttons have popped off, as if he was gripping his chest in desperation to be free of it.

His eyes were practically bloodshot, wide and glossy with unshed tears. A look you couldn’t recognize. 

They flickered all over the room, lost and worried before settling on you. You can only watch as pure devastation fills his gaze as he takes you in. 

His breath is heavy, chest rising and falling at a frantic pace before he whispers your name. 

The sound is like an arrow to your heart.  

Another loud thump, and you realize he’s fallen onto his knees. 

He says your name again, drawing out and feeling every syllable on his tongue. His hands tug at his tie, grasping and ripping the damn thing off like it was stealing the very air he breathed. 

His eyes never leave you, wandering over your body before finding your own. 

The look he gives you sends a chill up your spine. 

“H-Hiromi.” You stutter out, though it's barely a whisper. 

“My love.” He groans back. 

He’s messy, throwing his shoes off before stumbling out of his jacket. His gaze doesn’t leave yours even as he positions himself on his hands and knees, body shaking and trembling with some primal want as he begins a slow and devastating crawl towards you. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I can’t.” He admits with a slur in his mouth, the wetness of his eyes only growing as he gets closer. 

“You’re all I can manage to focus on, day and night.” 

The sound of his pants shuffling over the carpet sounds like a roar in the quiet of the living room, your breaths caught within your chest. 

He’s slow, creeping in close like some predator hunting its prey. You’re hypnotized, your heart beating too quick and too loud to even let you pull your eyes away from the sight. 

He’s crawled close enough to reach the end of the couch, and you can finally smell it. 

Sweet, sour. 

Alcohol. 

“Hiromi, you’re drunk.” You try to scold, but the way he’s looking at you with those eyes— god those fucking eyes, it sounds like anything but.  

“No, ‘m not.” He replies, settling on his haunches by where you rest your knees. “I had a few. But I’m real. I’m here.” 

His hand rises from the floor, slowly grazing over your skin. 

He cuffs his hand around your ankle, feeling the way your pulse thrums beneath your skin. 

His fingertips are light, gentle and hot as he traces over your bare calf, inching higher and higher until he settles his head within your lap. 

You bite back a gasp, the weight and heat of him shocking you. 

He grips your knees, holding you close and tight. As if he was willing you to not pull away. Like he was trying to convince himself you were real too. 

“Please.” The man whimpers, lips practically quivering as the word leaves him. “All I have is you.” 

He nuzzles his cheek into your thigh, eyes peering up at you in desperation. The gloss of his eyes finally manifests itself into tears, the droplets sliding out and now wetting your skin. 

“What’s mine is yours, right? My vows.” 

The look in his eyes is raw, unhidden and bare with everything that he’d been hiding before. The late nights at the office, the countless days spent apart– they all seem to come rushing and spilling out of him. 

“You took my heart and had it longer than I ever did.” 

He kisses your skin, hands trembling at your knees before rising up to settle at your hips. 

He grips the fat harshly, he looks at you so softly. And you’re suddenly reminded of how he looked when you two met. 

Strong, composed, a man who calculated every passing moment. The complete opposite of what lay in front of you now. 

Your heart squeezes, an ache settling in your chest as you try to figure out what to say. But you can’t find any words that feel right, instead your body seems to react faster than your brain can. 

Your fingers comb through his hair, pushing back the messy locks from his forehead so you can finally see his face.  

There’s a blush high on his cheeks, a slight scrape on one side that your thumb brushes over. 

You hiss imagining the slight sting he would feel, but he only moans at your touch. His mouth practically drooling as his eyes roll back into his head, closing them shut as he tries to lean in closer. 

“Please…” He whimpers again, opening his eyes and blinking away a few stray tears. 

His fingers dip into your skin, thumbing at the fabric of your flimsy shorts. 

“I can make you feel good. Let me make you feel good.”

He grips at the cloth desperately, practically tearing it apart.

It shouldn’t have made your spine shiver the way it did. It shouldn’t have made your pussy so wet with the way he looked up at you. 

But he hasn’t touched you in so long . He hasn’t whispered how much he’s needed you in ages. 

There’s a need in your skin you can’t ignore, the feeling blooming and taking over every rational part of your brain that you have left. 

You can’t even bring yourself to say it, only nod your head as a pathetic little whimper spills from your lips when you do so. 

He’s quick to rip your shorts off, tearing the wet fabric of your panties along with them before spreading your legs. 

In a swift motion, he throws a thigh over his shoulder, settling between them as if it was the place he’d always meant to belong.

He wastes no time, thick tongue immediately coming out to dive into your dripping folds. 

He moans at your taste, licking a fat stripe from your fluttering hole to your clit, lapping up at the gushes of slick that seep out of your warm cunt. 

“So wet f’me, baby.” He groans like a man intoxicated, the words muffled and even more slurred as he licks another stripe. “Missed your pussy so much.” 

He buries his nose into your mound, the peak nudging into your clit as his tongue laps at the wetness spilling from you. He flicks and rolls the muscle all over, teasing your entrance before pushing flat and lapping up soft, quick lines to your clit. 

Your hips jolt, hands burying themselves in his hair as you cry out his name. 

He groans in response, eyes rolling back as he brings his tongue back down to dip into your fluttering hole, coaxing out more slick to gush as he opens his mouth wider. 

Your legs start to tremble and squeeze around his head, overwhelming pleasure attacking you all at once. His hands hold you steady, knuckles turning bone white at the way they grip the fat of where your thighs and ass meet, pulling your legs further apart to feel you deeper. 

He practically drools and groans at the way your hands have started to pull at his hair, fingertips gripping onto him like a lifeline as you desperately try to push him away with a weak and shaking strength. 

“H-iro.” You whimper, feeling the pleasure start to spread throughout your body. It curls within your belly, spreading to your fingertip and toes until it makes you light headed. 

Your body burns, bright and quick at the way he laps and gives you open mouth kisses, trying to devour and tongue every inch of you that is exposed. 

You try to pull away again, your hips arching back from his touch, but he doesn’t stop. 

His tongue teases and dips into your fluttering hole over and over, licking up every drop that squirts out. 

His chin is covered in it, the sound obscene as he slurps and laps all over your pussy.

He licks a long stripe up your core, the tip of his tongue finding the sensitive bud of your clit and pushing his focus onto the poor thing. 

It aches from sensitivity, the pressure of his lips sucking on it only making your body bow and hands grip onto his hair tighter.

“Hiromi!” You moan, the sound echoing off the walls and only making him suck harder.  

The muscles of your body grow taught, thighs stiff yet still shaking as you feel a tightness in your belly start to build. 

Your walls clench around nothing, breath becoming shaky as you try to whimper out some warning words, but he pulls away before you can even utter them.  

The tightness of your body falls away, your bones becoming jelly and you whine at the sudden loss of his quick, needy movements.

His lips leave you with a soft pop, the sound wet and obscene as he grips the flesh of your thighs harder. Like he was trying to ground and hold himself from diving back in. 

He’s panting, teary eyes gazing back up into your own as his hot breath brushes over your sensitive pussy, making you jolt and try to push away. 

“Mm don’t run,” He whispers, voice hoarse and thick with need. 

His hands grip harder, sliding you down the couch until your ass practically falls off of it. His hands splay themselves over your cheeks, holding your thighs over his shoulders as he tries to feel you closer. 

“So good, so good, baby.” He licks his lips, savoring the taste you left upon his skin before nuzzling his cheek into the fat of your thigh.

He hums at the softness of the touch, lips parting in bliss before moving to kiss along the skin. He starts with a small trail, gentle and steady before beginning to bite and nibble small marks into the flesh.  

“You missed me too, right?” 

His eyes are half lidded, tired in the way they always were yet burning with a raw need as they look up at you. 

It makes your chest tighten again, pussy clenching around nothing as you whine out a pathetic little sound. Words are lost to you, your brain a scrambled mess as you peer at the man resting between your thighs. 

The sound makes him smile, his body suddenly shifting so that only one arm holds your weight now. 

You feel it before you even see it, thick fingers parting your wet lips. A soft schlick noise as he spreads you open for him to touch and see. 

“Can tell you did, look at her.”  

His fingers rub over your folds, spreading and moving your arousal all around. It coats his digits as he parts them, scissoring and petting your pussy while his fingertips nudge and tease your clit with featherlight touches. 

Your entire body throbs, sweat building and dripping from the heat that courses through your veins until you can’t take it anymore.

He dips into your tight cunt, filling you up until you cry out. 

“So wet…” He groans, watching the way you clench and tighten, poor pussy not wanting to let go after being empty for so long.

“Hiromi, please I need you.” You whimper out, finally finding enough strength in your bones to pull at his head and speak any string of words. “I need you, I need you.” 

Your plea’s fall out like a mantra, slurred and barely coherent as your hips buck up into him while you feel tears start to build in your own eyes. 

There’s a pout on your face, plump lips parting in a way that makes his cock twitch and spill at the sight. 

He gulps, closing his eyes for a split second before opening them back up. 

His gaze falls on your pussy again, watching the way you continue to gush and clench around his fingers as he slowly pumps them in and out. 

“Always so needy.” He sighs, biting back a smirk as he slowly pulls his fingers out. 

Before you can realize, he’s settling you back on the couch. Your back flush with the cushion, his legs spread over your own before raising one to wrap around his hip. 

You gasp, surprised at the quickness in which he moved you and the sight of his presence looming over you. 

Tall, tired, and just as needy as you, Hiromi Higuruma stares into your eyes the same way he did on your wedding night. Fueled by pure passion and want. 

“Open,” He taps his still wet fingers on your lower lip, you obey. 

He shoves them in slowly, fingers pushing past your teeth before rubbing the pads all over your wet tongue. 

Your cheeks fill around his hand, drool spilling down your chin. He pushes them in and out slowly, keeping the same pace he did earlier. The push toward the back of your mouth, a small gag escaping you before you stare up at him and start to suck at them slowly. 

“Good girl,” His voice is lower than a whisper as he says the words. It rumbles up from within his chest, rising out of him as he pushes the pads of his fingers down the middle of your tongue. But in it, there’s a kind of hurt. 

“Always so good for me.” 

His free hand comes up to swipe a stray hair that clings onto your cheek, his thumb softly rubbing at your skin. 

He leans his body in closer, the clothes of his hips pushing flush against your bare ones. You can feel the heat of him even through the fabric, his cock hard and aching. 

“You want my cock?” He thrust against you once, rubbing the outline of him in a slow and agonizing pull against your folds. He lets the feeling linger before pulling away.

You moan around his fingers, nodding softly and looking at him with pleading eyes. 

“Aw, yeah?” He hums, his voice dripping in a mocking tone. He thrusts again, this time quicker. 

A crease in his pants nudges against your clit, pressing hard against the bundle of nerves. It makes your back arch, legs trembling before you frantically start to nod again. 

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you buck your hips against him, your mind past the point of return as his warmth envelops you. 

He smirks once more, his hand brushing into your hair before pulling away. 

“It’s okay, my love. I’ve got you.” 

His fingers retreat from your lips, a string of saliva connecting them and falling over your breasts as he brings the hand down to unbuckle his belt. 

His movements are quick, the sharp sound of him removing his pants loud and ringing through your ears as you can only watch him pull his cock out. 

Your breath catches, something you always did no matter how many times you saw it. 

Long, hard and aching with a soft red tip— his cock twitches and pulses with need. He takes himself in a large hand, slowly jerking himself off as he spreads the soft beads of pre spilling from his tip all over. 

He groans softly, hissing through his teeth when he rolls his thumb over the sensitive top before aiming it down to rub in between your folds. 

He parts your wet lips again, rubbing and pressing his aching cock between them, gathering your slick until it shines all over him. He thrusts into you gently, tip knocking against your clit until you’re both filling the air with whiny little noises.

“Please,” You moan, hands coming up to grip at his large shoulders, “Just fuck me already.” 

He has to bite a groan back at that. 

He gulps again, only nodding his head before breathlessly saying, “Of course, my love.” 

He stretches you out slow, filling you up inch by devastating inch. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t enter in one soft swoop but instead lets you feel every vein and pulse of him inside your tight cunt. 

Just like he always did.   

From the way his cock curves slightly up, to the way his tip rubs against the gummy spot along your walls, you clench around the thickness of him, feeling everything that he has to give. 

He’s not even moving much yet there’s still a soft squelching noise that comes from where the two of you meet, the sound ringing in your ears. 

He bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, his hips flush against you as his heavy balls rest against your ass. 

You feel so full, the sensation having stolen the breath from your lungs. Your hands grip at his shoulders harder, trying to steady yourself and not to focus too hard on the feeling of him inside of you.But the feeling of him consumes you entirely anyways. 

From the warmth of his large chest pressed upon your own to the way his heavy thighs hold yours on them. He’s everywhere, he’s everything at this very moment. You almost forget just how long it’s been since you’d felt like this. 

He whimpers softly above you, his own breath heavy as he gets used to the feeling of your fluttering walls around him. 

His brows furrow, a crease in between them as he bites his tongue and holds back from moving his hips. 

Inside, you can feel him twitch. The soft stutters he resists from pulling into, the way he feels you gush and try to pull him in closer. 

“Move.” You gasp out after a few seconds, the fire in your fingertips running down his own back. “Need you to move.”

He nods in response, wasting no time before obeying.

His thrusts are deep, slowly and steady as he pushes his hips almost all the way back before snapping fully into you over and over again. 

His cock hits the deepest parts, nudging and rubbing at the gummy spot in your walls as the soft hairs of his pelvis stimulate the small bundle of nerves with every crash of his hips. 

It's soft, warm and intimate in the way he always used to take you. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer as he dives in to kiss your neck. 

He nuzzles into the softness of your skin, kissing over and over along the lines of your throat before sucking at your pulse point. 

You jolt, crying out when he does so in time with his cock hitting your cervix. You clench tightly, gushing out all over him and he moans at the feeling. 

He continues sucking at the skin, leaving tiny marks before trailing a small line of drool down to your chest. Your shirt had been taken off long ago, somewhere between him eating you out and laying you down. 

His lips find your breast, kissing and licking along the tops before wrapping the warmth of his mouth over your tight and taut nipples. 

Your body bows, fingernails scratching down the back of his wrinkled shirt as he sucks. 

A purr rumbles from within his chest, savoring the way your bodies have started to move as one together now. 

His hips pull away, yours rise to meet and follow them. 

It’s gentle, yet raw and desperate in the way that only your bodies remember. Like this dance was something carved deep in your soul and you didn’t need to relearn it all over again. 

His hands roam over you, squishing and holding onto every curve he can find, pulling you closer and closer as if he wants to merge your very skin into his own. 

He grips your hips again, finding the place his hand was always meant to belong and you can feel the bruises already starting to form from the strength in which he holds you. 

His other hand finds your own, pulling your arm away until your fingers intertwine. Palm against palm, his wedding band digs into your finger and you feel your body start to burn all over.

The knot in your stomach forms again, holding tight as his pace quickens. Pleasure runs through you, a shock that runs from your spine to your toes. 

“Hiromi I’m-“ You whimper out, eyes shutting as you throw your head back. 

“Mnn, I know, my love, I know.” He hums back, hiding his face deeper into your skin.

His pace quickens, hips rolling into yours as he angles himself deeper, filling you up even more. 

He mutters something into your breasts, drool spilling past his lips as he kisses and mouths along the soft mounds.

You’re too far gone to understand anything, to hear anything but the soft plaps of where you two meet, to feel anything but the way his pelvis rolls into your clit. But if you listened closely, if you focused on the way his lips moved and ran across your skin, you would know he said the words “i love you” over and over as if trying to carve them into your heart. 

His thighs pull yours higher, his movements becoming increasingly desperate as your walls tighten and clench all around him. 

“Come for me, come for me.” He begs, uttering your name over and over like some kind of prayer that will save him. 

It comes without warning, like a simple tug on a string as you fall apart in his arms. 

It makes your legs shake, back arching as you come and lay beneath the waves of pleasure that start to wash over you. It consumes you whole, holding you prisoner and not letting you break free as he continues to chase his own high. 

He says your name, breaking at the syllables in a small pitch before he fills you up with one final thrust. 

Thick, warm, cum fills you from the inside. His cock twitching restlessly as he shoots rope after rope into you, the mess spilling out of you and gushing all around him. It coats your thighs, dripping down your ass and undoubtedly ruining the poor couch cushions. 

Your chests are heavy, the sound of you both gasping for air fills your ears and you continue to cling onto him for dear life. 

There’s a pause in the air, as if time has suddenly stopped to wait for you two to catch up. 

Your hand holds onto his shoulders. His own holds your hips in the way he used to, grounding. 

And suddenly you two have seemed to have forgotten the situation that brought you here. 

Your bodies are flushed, sticky with sweat and lingering desire as Hiromi collapses onto you. His weight practically suffocating as he lays his chest back against your breasts. 

Silence surrounds you two as the intoxicating feeling of need dies out, the heat you two created slowly turning back into the cold you’ve felt for weeks. 

There are left over tears in your eyes you didn’t even know were there until you try to blink them away, suddenly confused as to why you’ve started crying. 

Your lips move to say something, to utter some word of regret or apology or reason. But he beats you to it. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

“I should’ve been here. For you, for us.” His voice is solemn, regret cracking along the lines of every word.  

“I won’t fight. I’ll do whatever it is you want me to. Just please,” His head moves to gaze up at you. 

Those tired eyes shine with tears once more, need and hurt and love filling them so full that it robs you of breath all over again. 

“Don’t take my heart with you.” 

Thank you for reading </3 Comments and reblogs are v much appreciated! If you have any insights please leave them kindly

a/n: Mnnfggh, needy… whiny men…

“Hmm.” You scoffed and leaned forward to snatch his chin between your fingers, gripping tight enough that his nose twitched, and your lips tugged into a smile at the sight of his raw discomfort. “Big talk for someone trapped like a pitiful little bug in a web.”

Naoya tugged his chin furiously from your grasp, head snapped to the side as he fixed you with a gaze so cutting it’s a wonder you didn’t feel it slice your skin.

“If you think your pathetic little technique will hold me for much longer, you really are as dumb as you look.” He spat, rioting against the thick tendrils looped tight as iron around his biceps.

“I think it’s you who’s truly pathetic, Naoya.” You replied smoothly. “One little promise of some pussy from a sweet little maid and you end up like this? Sad.”

You couldn’t help but rub it in just a little. The cat was finally out of the bag, the secret you’d been keeping under wraps for the last six months revealed. Gone were your days slaving away as one of the Zenin clan servants.

You weren’t stupid, from the very first day you had arrived at the Zenin temple you had seen the way he’d looked at you. Hazel eyes roaming over your clothed body greedily, unashamedly so - like he could peel your maids uniform off with his eyes and take you right there on the entryway floor without consequence. You were only thankful that his piggish mindset shielded your true intent. He saw only the sweet curve of your waist and the way the folds of your kimono wrapped tight over your plump chest, not the burning hatred simmering behind each tight lipped smile.

Even so, it turned your stomach. Each sleazy look you met with cool temperance, each respectful bow of your head, each pinch from his wayward fingers as you bent over scrubbing laundry made your insides boil hot with rage and repulsion alike. But for all your disgust, still, you could have cried for your sheer luck. Such an opportunity wouldn’t present itself again - a rare chance to get close to the Zenin heir.

And so you’d laid patiently in waiting, making sure to keep your cursed energy simmering and dormant. Camouflaged amongst the plethora of stronger sorcerers, you waited for the fateful time to strike.

It was that very afternoon that Naoya had returned from a mission, chest puffed proudly and still riding the high of a win, he had called you to his private chambers. And when you’d heard the hushed whispers from the other maids, and the tinkle of the little servants bell you’d known - it was finally time.

A teasing hand slipped beneath his collar, nails tracing his skin. The brush of your lips over his ear. A simple sultry whisper and the curl of your beckoning finger and here he was, ensnared beneath you - tied up like a long awaited gift.

“You know, you never asked about my technique.” You mused, tilting your head as you watched him squirm beneath you, anger rolling from him in heated palpable waves.

Your technique was not notably powerful by any means - an all around defensive technique designed to get you out of a desperate situation by immobilising an enemy. But in certain situations it had its more refined applications, and close combat was where it truly shined.

“Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be in this situation, hm?”

“I don’t really give a shit about the fine points of your weak ass technique.” He rolled his eyes in a pointed scowl. “Just release it already sweets, promise I’ll make your punishment quick if you do it now.”

“You know it’s not just a binding technique.” You continued smoothly, ignoring his honeyed demands. “It has other applications too.”

As you spoke, a multitude of tendrils poked out from the others still bound tight around his arms. They coiled and slid along either side of his neck like crowding tree roots. Tendrils pressed against his skin and trailed down, parting the fabric of his silky robes until you could see his broad chest laid bare and heaving with barely concealed fury.

Naoya fixed you with that same fiery glare, but you didn’t miss the way his brow twitched, betraying a tiny flicker of nerves in his otherwise steeled disposition.

You eyed the newly exposed skin leisurely as the tendrils continued their lazy roam, slipping knots of fabric open like they were dissolving the silk. You watched his abs clench in the cool air, and the slow reveal of his cock, sitting half hard between trimmed swirls of dark blonde. His thighs tensed as they too were forced apart by the roaming tendrils.

“You slut.” He accused, though his face was flushed almost imperceptibly. “If you wanted me to fuck you this bad, coulda just asked y’know.”

“i don’t want to fuck you, Zenin.” You sighed. “Just want to watch you break.”

His mouth opened, prepared to no doubt spit another scathing insult, before his face twisted in mild confusion. His head dropped to watch as another tendril - thick and bulbous - slipped along his parted thighs and rubbed teasingly between his bare cheeks.

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, widened with shock. He writhed pitifully against the restraints as cold realisation dawned. You felt your tongue dart out from between your lips. The expression was utterly delicious - all that boyish arrogance dissolved into pure unfiltered unease as the tip of the teasing tendril traced his rim.

“Don’t you dar-ah-!” His frenzied growl was cutoff as you watched the slithering tendril slip inside, and his face contorted into something soft and dumb.

You took a moment just to watch the obscene sight before you. For all of the vitriol that spilled from his lips, the corrupt core you knew was hidden at the centre beneath those silken robes - Naoya Zenin was undeniably attractive.

Not that you’d have ever admit it aloud, but with his mouth closed it was easy to admire his regal features. That sharp and striking grin, and those chestnut eyes always watching lazily, filled with an unquestioned entitlement.

The very same eyes that were now burning a hole into you between flutters of his lashes as he fought to keep a tether on his waning control, made more difficult by the desperate little sounds that were slipping from his mouth.

You could see the tendril curling inside - pumping slow and deep. Searching until it hit something soft and silky and Naoya jerked forward against the tight bindings, his cock twitching pitifully where it was smearing a slick line across his lower belly.

“Aw, does that feel good?” You cooed, leaned forward to trail a hand up his chest, and you felt his skin prickle in a flurry of goosebumps beneath your touch.

“F-uh-fuck you…” He managed between pants, squirming fruitlessly as the tendril worked him open, jostling him a little with each steady thrust.

You chuckled, grasped a pebbled nipple between your fingers and pinched hard. When you heard him whine in discomfort you released it, leaned back and slapped him across the face again, just for the satisfaction.

“No, fuck you Naoya.” You replied sweetly, watched loose strands of his dirty blonde hair slide forward with him as he crumpled, shoulders trembling.

You left him like that for a few moments - slumped forward against the restraints with his head hung low, eyes drooped to watch himself stretch obscenely around the thick bulging tendril, letting pathetic little sounds slip out into the empty air.

With Naoya sufficiently distracted by the sight of himself being fucked open, you busied yourself slipping your own wrap from your shoulders. You stripped every folded layer until the remains were left crumpled on the floor beneath your bare feet, and you were stood before him entirely nude.

On what must have been a particularly deep thrust Naoya choked a strangled sound and his head arced back far enough for him to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times as if dazed, eyes soon sharpening enough to slide down your bare form with that familiar predatory hunger.

“Are you really this desperate for some action?” He croaked, clearly trying to keep his voice even despite the way he was trembling atop the tatami.

You gave only a chuckle in response, and took a few purposeful strides forward until you stood above him, one leg planted either side of his abdomen.

You gazed down at him from between your parted legs, and when he blinked up at you he looked more wrecked than you would have thought possible for such a cocky bastard. His hazel eyes were blown wide, expression still contorted into a bitter scowl, but undeniably softened with the pleasure clearly pulsing through him.

“You look good like this Naoya.” You praised, though your tone was thick with mocking. “Tied up with something shoved up your ass.”

His sharp brows knitted together tight as he threw his head to the side to spit viciously, and you felt a stray droplet hit your bare toe.

“Just wait… hah-…. stupid bitch… gonna kill you for this…” He grunted. His jaw clenched tight, and you watched his toned throat bob as he swallowed, adams apple bobbing.

“Should be thanking me.” You mused. “When’s the last time you even saw a pussy you didn’t have to pay for or coerce, Naoya?”

As if to highlight your point, your fingers trailed down over the soft curve of your own belly to rub slow, teasing circles over yourself. You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s eyes dropped between your thighs, locked onto where your fingers were tracing your clit.

With a satisfied hum, you slid to your knees and Naoya made a sharp sound, jolted backward in a vein attempt to avoid being caught between your thighs. But you kneeled above him regardless, body laid bare just out of reach, and tilted your head in a speechless mock.

“Go on, stick your tongue out.” You cooed, fingers slipping either side to tug yourself apart, glistening pussy hovering inches from his face.

“I’d rather die.” He grunted, bristling below you. But you caught the sight of his tongue darting out to wet his lips, eyes still locked on your dripping cunt. A freudian slip if you’d ever see one.

As if expecting his rebuttal, another slick tendril slid out from behind his nape to coil around his blushed throat in a pulsing squeeze, just tight enough to make your threat clear.

“I can arrange that.” You replied smoothly.

His brows furrowed, and he snarled out a frustrated grunt, nudging his head back against the sudden pressure wrapped heavy around his throat. Deciding that defying you was not worth his life, wormlike as he was - he acquiesced. In the next flutter of your lashes you found his jaw slack, tongue slipped out, laid flat and waiting as he glared up at you.

You purred above him, a low satisfied noise and settled onto his face, pressed down hard until his nose tickled the trim spatter of hair at your base.

“Eat it like you mean it, Zenin.” You cooed. “And no fucking teeth.”

Despite his earlier refusal, he made a betrayingly weak sound when his tongue finally met your cunt. The muscle swiping immediately up through your slick folds to taste where you were already dripping wet from the sheer adrenaline.

You moaned softly at the sudden burst of sensation, sucked your lower lip between your teeth as his hot mouth pressed to your most sensitive area.

Where you thought he might tug his head back and revolt after the first taste - he instead lifted his jaw and swirled his tongue greedily over your clit, and your hips jerked in surprise.

“That’s it.” You breathed, thighs twitching in approval. “This is a much better use for that filthy mouth of yours, don’t you think?”

You felt his jaw tighten as he began to snark a muffled reply, but the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair stripped the words from his tongue.

You scratched your nails against his scalp a little just to enjoy the way he shivered beneath you before you gripped the blonde strands tight and yanked hard, earning a wild groan from deep in his throat.

“That’s what I thought, Zenin.” You breathed. “Just shut up and eat, yeah?”

With your fingers still laced tightly through his hair, you rocked your hips roughly into him, holding his head in place as you grinded down hard against his waiting tongue.

When you peered down you were a little surprised to see that his eyes were closed. His expression was unexpectedly soft as he met the harsh roll of your hips with what you could only read as enthusiasm - sucking you further into his mouth each time your mound bumped against his nose.

The sight sent a jolt of unexpected desire and mild annoyance through you, and you pooled your focus on riding his face harder. He grunted out small sounds as you shoved him down to meet your hips, hand still locked in his hair.

You threw your head back, mouth slack as you groaned - unashamedly enjoying the feeling of him beneath you, devouring your cunt like a starved dog. He responded to your pleased noises in kind - tongue swirling wide sloppy circles over your clit before it dipped down to press inside your entrance, thick and wet.

What could you say, the asshole was good with his mouth.

Spit and slick dribbled down the sharp curve of his jaw as he bobbed his head, slurping in a frankly obscene display. As you bucked your hips and moaned unashamedly, you found that your head had tilted back. And when you blinked your eyes open you couldn’t help but chuckle darkly at the sight.

“Pathetic.” You panted. “You talk so big, but here you are - hard after getting slapped around a little by a lowly servant.”

True to your mocking - his cock was rock hard and untouched behind you. Flushed an angry red and weeping onto his bare stomach, twitching with each steady thrust of the tendril still massaging his insides.

You leaned back as you continued the roll of your hips over his tongue, fingers creeping down his blushed chest to wrap around his length.

“Lucky you’ve got this big cock, Naoya.” You purred, giving him a few lazy pumps and feeling the way he jolted beneath you. “Useless otherwise.”

Naoya groaned weakly against your cunt, from the harshness of your words or your tight grip on his cock, you couldn’t tell. His jaw went slack as your wrist curled, fisting him in an iron grip. Your thumb teased over that tight bundle at the tip, making him jerk against the restraints still biting into his biceps.

“Swearmmgonna kill you for this-ahnnnhnn-not gonna last another ffkingweek-…” He slurred a flurry of unintelligible threats between the sounds of his own choked moans and his frantic slurping.

His eyes were still squeezed closed, blindly lapping at you as he bucked his hips up into your waiting palm and then back against the thick tendril, fucking himself on it, chasing the sizzling friction of your slick fist.

“Go on, Zenin.” You breathed, rolling your hips and forcing his head to arc back with the motion until his glossy eyes met yours. “Tell me how much you love it - getting your face by ridden by some low life sorcerer nobody.”

You lifted your hips up just enough to let him suck in a gasped breath and hiss out an answer. His voice came out in a crackled rumble as he peered up at you, black dwarfing brown beneath his lowered lashes.

“ ‘s disgusting…-“ He slurred, tongue swiping over his lips like a drooling mutt licking it’s chops after a meal.

“It’s disgusting?” You echoed. “But you’re close, aren’t you?”

He didn’t need to answer. You could tell by the way he was trembling that he was toeing the edge. His body coiled tight like a spring ready to snap, rocking down desperately onto the thick tendril between his thighs. The way he was drooling pre over your knuckles, cock weeping beneath the unending pump of your fist.

“Oh Naoya, gonna cum so soon?” You teased.

When he didn’t answer, you released him just long enough to tug your hand back and bring it down quick as a whip - slapping his throbbing cock and earning a sharp whine from him.

“Asked you a question.” You bit, voice firmer now. “Are you really gonna cum so quickly?”

Naoya sucked in a shaky breath, head pressed against the dewy skin of your inner thigh, long turned sticky with your arousal and his own spit. He nodded his head wildly, reddened cheek pressed against you, and you hummed in approval.

“Go on then, beg me for it.” You soothed, capturing him once again and resuming the tight, steady pump of your wrist.

Naoya was panting now, breaths coming hot against the layer of spit and slick coating you as he rutted frantically into your closed fist, and pressed sloppy desperate kisses into your cunt.

“Pleasemmmmso fucking close pleaselemme cum,please keepfucking me pleasepleaseplease…” He slurred, face nuzzled against your drooling pussy.

“What a good boy.” You purred, and you swore you felt his cock twitch against your palm.

He gave no reply, simply a long spineless whine as his eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his lips flat over your clit - attaching himself to your messy cunt like it was his lifeline.

Without a word, you suddenly tugged away - releasing him from your grasp and straightening up on trembling thighs. Naoya made a genuinely annoyed sound in response, lips splitting from your pussy with an obscene pop as you slid away.

“Huh?…” He questioned dumbly, syrupy eyes blinking slowly up at you as if you’d snatched him from a dream.

His expression was entirely softened, face soaked in your slick and his own spit. His skin glistened with it, all the way up to his cheekbones. Even his forehead was slick with sweat where strands of dirty blonde turned dark, plastered to his skin. His lips were swollen pink and plump where they had been pressed against you.

You slipped back down to your knees again then, this time lower, legs tossed over either of his parted thighs. You pressed your palms flat over his clenched abs, and a loose tendril slid down between your forearms to curl around his cock, tilting his twitching length up until you could run your bare cunt over his tip.

His eyes flew to yours, and you met his gaze just as they sharpened in sudden realisation.

“No, don’t-hnnghah!-…”

You took a moment to relish in it - the way his voice choked out and died in his throat, his expression of raw shock as you sunk down onto his cock before his eyes rolled back in his skull, and his head arced until it hit the floor.

That was all it took. The warmth of your spit soaked pussy enveloping him down to the hilt. A few slow rocks of your hips, a few tight clenches from your sloppy cunt and he was coming undone beneath you in a pitiful heap.

You rode him through it, hips grinding in tight shallow thrusts, keeping him nice and deep as he throbbed, filling you with a seemingly endless spurt of cum - pulsing thick and sticky inside until you felt it begin to pool at the base of him.

“The only redeeming thing about you is your fucking family name, Zenin.” You panted a little as you spat, words turned to venom, eyes burning a hole into the man squirming beneath you.

“So I’m taking it.”

He was all but convulsing beneath you, that thick tendril still pumping steadily inside him, petting incessantly against that silky spot that had him jerking in place, filling you with more and more thick milky ribbons until you could feel yourself stuffed utterly full.

As you humped him, you pressed a hand flat atop your lower belly, sliding over the little pouch of fat concealing your womb.

Naoya watched you dimly through a lone eye winked open. He was panting, body still twitching with residual thrums of pleasure as your hips stilled, finished milking him. When the thick tendril finally slipped from him he let out a sound so feeble you almost laughed, and you felt him throb weakly inside you - cumming utterly dry.

Your lips stretched into a lazy grin, and you leaned close to whisper as you slipped his cock from you, let your mess drip down and coat him.

“Don’t worry.” You purred into his ear. “Might even let you see the kid, if you’re good.”

He shivered beneath you, droopy eyes still locked on the sight of his own cum dribbling from you.

You smiled, leaned back until your palms hit the tatami, letting your thighs part lazily as the tendrils binding his arms slipped free.