as above so below

When you glance up all you could notice was that blissed out expression as if he was desperate for relief for ages. Which was accurate considering how rare it was for him to get meaningful connection, much less have time to get a much needed blowjob.

Seeing that look in his eyes only spurs you on, your whimpers vibrating against his girth. You could feel the growing wetness completely soaking your panties, as you push his cock deeper down your tight throat.

"A-ah..!" Yuji gasps, the sound traveling further than intended. You could feel his dick throbbing in your mouth. He throws his head against the velvet cushions of the chair, biting his lower lip as he groans, "Mhm.. Just- just like that."

The risk of being heard or caught was heart racing, claustrophobic but oh how you enjoyed swirling your tongue around his dick, just waiting for him to make another sound despite trying oh so hard to hold back.

The way you glaze up at him with those pretty watery eyes looked so... innocent; all while bobbing your head up and down his hard length. The contrast was enough to make him cum on the spot.

You could sense how close he was and that encouraged a faster momentum, your hand coming up to massage his balls. "Mmf, you gonna cum, Yu..?" You whimper into cock. You knew better not to speak with your mouth full, especially not to ask the obvious. But messing with him was too hard to resist, especially when he was getting all whiny and desperate.

He nods immediately, low groans and whines filling the air along with the ongoing movie. Yuji's hand tightens around your hair, pushing you deeper, chasing that climax. Hot ropes of cum shoot down your throat as you drink it down, his thighs trembling through his release; It felt like pure relief after being deprived for so long.

You pull back with a soft pop, the sound of heavy breathing along with the scent of sweat and sex clinging to the air. Yuji's hands slowly loosen their grip, mindlessly toying with your hair before mumbling breathlessly, “Hmm good girl…” The praise makes your heart skip as you relax into the weight of his hand. You could easily go for more but it only took a small glimpse behind you to see that the white list of names were rolling down the big screen. Anyone who came to watch this had already left, leaving you, Yuji, and mess in-between his legs.

Before you could open your mouth to address the elephant in the room, Yuji beat you to it, “Guess we missed the movie, huh?” He was smiling sheepishly while stating the obvious but it was such a Yuji thing to do. He didn't say it out loud but despite the risk of a lifetime ban at the theater he couldn't find a single ounce of shame for this. “I'll make it up to ya, baby, promise…” He murmurs with little hesitation, he didn't think too hard about it. Even after all this time he was still honest and giving by default.

His words caused a quiet pause; no rushing to walk out like nothing happened, at least not yet. Studying his expression only made you smile, resting your cheek on his knee. His body was significantly less tense than before and you got to see a glimpse of a smile on his face between the intimacy. It was a win in your book but of course you couldn't turn down a promise like that could you, not when your panties were soaked like this. “I'll hold you to that.”

"Oh I'm just—"

"I heard whispers from the grapevine that you were looking for someone to take your virginity, is that right?" He cooed at you, taking the opportunity to twirl a lock of your hair in his hand, his other large hand holding onto a can of Pepsi. A small chuckle escaping his lips at the blush spreading across your cheeks when you darted your gaze away. So fucking adorable, he thought.

Frantic eyes darting away, you refused to look at him. It was so embarrassing for him to know. Not to mention, how did he even know?

Amidst the smell of sex, sweat and alcohol in the loud, raging party, all you could focus on was Suguru's piercing gaze on you. The way he licked his bottom lip, his piercing shifting slightly from the movement. "Uhm... how'd you know about that? I didn't tell anyone.." you muttered, seeing as you had only ever told the nerdy guy you sat next to at the anime club on Thursdays, Gojo— oh. oh.

His best friend. Of course Suguru would know, since Satoru wasn't able to keep his mouth shut about a single thing.

"How I know, is not important," Suguru hummed to you before giving some random guy passing by his half drunk Pepsi can, flashing a charming smile before turning his attention back to you. "What is important... is the guy you're choosing, and so far I'm not likin' the looks you're giving Kento."

"Yeah, but I don't wanna choose Satoru since he's already dating suk—" you were speaking, before cutting yourself off with a frozen look. Suguru's soft lips pressing gently against your forehead.

"I'm not talking about Satoru. I'm talking about me."

...

You don't even know how you ended up here. In Suguru's bedroom. With a naked Suguru, and a naked you.

Your soft cheeks and the tips of your ears felt like they were on fire, the tip of your nose itching from the haze of being in bed with one of the hottest people on campus. Clammy hands, and spread legs as you were overthinking every minuscule detail. Small whines and whimpers slipping past your lips as you wished to keep those embarrassing noises inside.

Suguru grumbled, looking up from between your legs. His hair a mess, his mouth, lips and chin dripping from your slick. "Hey. Eyes on me, and stop hiding your moans..." he trailed off when lowering his head again and suckling on your clit, flicking kitten licks over the sensitive nub, "...you sounds so good."

Needy whines and moans escaped your pursed lips, as you arched your back and dug your hands into his hair, "...S-sugu... mm-mh.."

"fuck yeah, moan for me," a muffled groan came out from between your thighs, drowned out by the lewd and loud suckling and slurping. His hands kneading your hips, keeping you close, while your thighs tightened, keeping his head trapped against your leaking, wet pussy. "More.." you moaned out for him, a little embarrassed.

He let out a wet chuckle from between his erotic groans. "Yeah? Want more?"

He slipped a finger inside your tight little hole, making your hips buck up, and you bite down on your bottom lip from the sensation. Curling it to rub up on your gummy walls, he licked around your folds and pussys lips, before doubling down on his licking at your clit.

A second finger soon slipped inside, making you moan in a loud, lewd tone. Your walls were beginning to quiver, a new sensation taking over your body. "w-wait–"

"shh, just let it happen doll.. fuck, just cum on my tongue.."

You drawled out a moan of his name, eyes squeezing shut and your back arching, pushing out your tits into the air. Nipples pebbled, and a warm, numbing feeling washing down your waist. Warm liquid trickling down your thighs, as Suguru groaned deeply and eagerly suckled up your cum, fingers digging into the plush of your hips.

He pulled away after about a minute, breathless with your cum dripping down his chin and completely coating the lower half of his face. He wiped it with the back of his hand before a lazy smirk took over his lip.

"Didn't know you were such a slut... cumming all over my tongue like that and moaning my name."

"it's embarrassing... don't talk about it," you muttered in the haze of bliss, heating up your face when Suguru shifted to be on top of you, your thighs spread and wet pussy rubbing against his navel. You could feel his erection, hard and striking brush against your ass when he damn near folded you in half.

"don't talk about it? Are you fucking serious? it's all I can think about right now..." he trailed off, eyes lustfully gazing over the naked you pinned beneath him.

“Do you even realise—” Suguru huffed before grabbing the length of his dick, pre cum dribbling down onto your wet pussy lips. He rubbed the head over your folds, before gently parting your folds to start pushing the thick head of his cock inside your tight, wet hole. “—just how much I’ve wanted you?”

You hiccuped softly, beginning to whine and claw down his back. Bringing him down closer down against you, “h-huh? Whatdda mean..?” You drawled, moaning when the thick head of his sock popped inside your hole. He let out a guttural groan, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. “H-hurt… go slow,” you whined softly, feeling the initial pain. Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Shh.. shh.. I’ll be gentle, baby just—just f-fuck.. don’t squeeze me like that..”

He started to thrust. He was… surprisingly gentle with his hips, knowing exactly how to touch you and tease you without making you burst into tears from the pain. “F-fuckfuckfuck… you’re gonna make me blow my load on the s-spot..!” He groaned before letting out a small needy whine against your neck.

“You s-seriously never noticed? I literally asked for your number on orientation week..!”

You whined against his shoulder, nails digging into his back as you were being fucked dumb, just a floor above one of the loudest parties you’d ever been to. His cock slipping in and out of your walls with ease, the lewd shlicks telling a story between the creaking on the bed. The stretch of having a cock inside you for the first time was… painful, you wouldn’t lie about it.

“W-whennn? I don’t remember—“ you whined between moans and whimpers, before hitching your breath when realising what he was talking about.

His purple eyes, big dorky glasses, black silky hair in a messy bun, and pursed lips as he gave you his phone with trembling hands. Talking about wanting to get your number, and about to introduce himself… before feeling his phone quickly given back to him and seeing you run off into the distance.

You blushed at the memory, knowing why you had ran away.

“I— *hic* I was scareddd.. you were the first guy who asked for my number and I got s-scareddd..” you let out a small needy whine, tightening your arms around his neck and scratching, leaving red lines on his muscular, sweaty back. Moans escaping your lips without control.

His thrusts got faster, deeper, as he cooed and shushed you against your ear. His lips pressing kisses all over your neck, before sucking small purple hickeys. The thick head of his cock pressing against your gummy cervix, the squishy head prodding at it insistently.

Before you felt another orgasm wash through you. Moaning, “S-Sugu..” out against his shoulder with a lewd cry.

His thrusts got wetter, his balls now covered in your slick cum, slapping against your ass. His plunging cock slowly slowing down, even if he didn’t get to cum himself yet. A gentle kiss was pressed against your forehead again, before your eyes met his purple ones that seemed so soft under the moonlight that flickered through the blinds of his window. The room smelled of sex and sweat now, but Suguru wasn’t nearly done with your body.

“…you wanna get my number now, doll?”

You nodded to him, hiccuping softly with a pout when you felt emotions wash over you. The hottest guy in your university had asked you out—and you had run away scared when he did.

“And hey— those friends you told me about? Yeah. Not happening. You hang out with me now.”

he wants to pin you to the wall the second the door slides shut, yank your panties aside, and bury himself to the hilt in one thrust. he wants to fuck you until you’re crying, until your voice breaks on his name, until you’re so full of him that it leaks down your thighs when he pulls out just to push back in again. he wants to mark you until there’s no part of you that doesn’t smell like him, feel like him, remember him.

the meeting drags. another elder speaks. naoya’s vision swims at the edges—strange, because he hasn’t eaten since yesterday, but he doesn’t care. his skin feels too hot, too tight. sweat beads at his temple despite the cool air in the hall.

he clenches his jaw. he can wait. he has to wait. just a few more minutes and he can dismiss them, stalk to the servants’ wing, kick your door open, and take what’s been driving him insane for days.

the room tilts.

he blinks—hard.

“young master?”

the elder’s voice fades to something distant. naoya tries to stand but his knees buckle. he catches himself on the edge of the table. the room spins faster. black spots dance at the corners of his vision and his head pounds.

“naoya-sama? are you okay?”

he straightens, barely, and tries to push off the table. but then the world tilts and darkness swallows him whole.

---

he wakes in fragments.

cool air on his face. the faint scent of cedar and yuzu. the low creak of wood. his chambers.

he’s on his futon with blankets tucked around him. his head pounds in time with his pulse and sweat clings to his skin, cold and clammy despite the fever heat still burning under it.

a soft rustle. he forces his eyes open. and then he sees you kneeling beside him, with your hair tied back and your expression pinched with worry. in your hands is a small porcelain basin of water and a folded white cloth.

you dip the cloth, wring it out and then lean forward. the cold press of damp fabric against his forehead makes him hiss.

“you’re awake,” you whisper. “you collapsed in the hall. the guards carried you here. i… i told them i’d stay with you.”

he tries to speak—manages only a rough croak. “how long?”

“a few hours. it’s past midnight.” you wet the cloth again, fold it and then press it back to his skin. “your fever spiked fast. i made willow bark tea. you should drink when you can sit up.” he reaches up and catches your wrist before you can pull the cloth away again. your eyes widen.

“why?” he mutters. “why stay?”

you blink. swallow. “because you’re sick,” you say simply, like it’s obvious. “and because… it’s you.” he holds your gaze—longer than he means to.

the fever makes everything feel distant and too close at once. your cool fingers against his burning skin. the faint scent of laundry soap and you. the way you don’t flinch under his stare, don’t look away even when his grip tightens on your wrist.

he wants to pull you down. wants to bury his face in your neck, breathe you in, take whatever comfort you’re offering and twist it into lust and something possessive. instead he lets his hand fall back to the futon—too weak, too tired.

“tea,” he croaks.

you nod and turn to pour the tea. you help him sit and he hates how much he needs it. hates how good it feels when your body presses close for that moment. he drinks—slow sips, grimacing at the taste—while you hold the cup steady.

when he finishes you take it away, set it aside, and want to get some more but he catches your hand again, almost gentle. “stay,” he says. not an order. not quite.

your breath catches. then you nod and settle beside him on the futon, knees tucked under you, hand still in his. his thumb brushes once over your knuckles, somewhat absent, like he’s testing the feel of it and watches you through the fever haze.

as you shift uncomfortably under his gaze and then move to adjust the damp cloth on his forehead, and the fabric of your yukata slips—just a fraction. the collar gapes open on one side and reveals the gentle curve of your shoulder.

you don’t notice at first. you’re focused on folding the cloth fresh, dipping it into the cool water and wringing it out. but then you feel his stare—hot, heavy, unblinking—and you freeze. your eyes flick to his. he doesn’t look away.

slowly, he lifts his free hand. fingers trembling faintly from the fever, but steady enough. he hooks one fingertip under the fallen edge of your yukata, right at the shoulder. the silk is thin, warm from your body. he drags it down, inch by agonizing inch, baring more of your shoulder, of your upper arm, the soft swell where breast meets chest.

the fabric pools at your elbow. cool air kisses your skin. your breath catches. “master naoya,” you whisper. “you’re sick. you need to rest—”

“i don’t care.” the words come out rough.

his hand doesn’t stop. he traces the newly bared skin with the backs of his knuckles, feeling the gooseflesh rise under his touch. your nipple pebbles beneath the remaining fabric; he can see the faint outline through the silk and swallows hard.

“i’ve wanted this,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “every fucking meeting. every boring hour. thinking about you under me. around me.” his fingers slide lower, hooking the edge again, tugging just enough to bare the top curve of your breast. “and now you’re here. and i’m burning up. and i still want you.”

your cheeks flush dark. you don’t pull the yukata back up. instead your hand—the one he’s holding—squeezes his fingers once, tentative.

“then let me,” you breathe.

he exhales, then his hand moves again—slipping the yukata fully off the other shoulder now. the silk falls down your arms, leaving your upper body bare to the cool night air and his hot gaze. your breasts rise and fall with shallow breaths; nipples tight under his stare. he cups one breast. thumb brushes the peak. you gasp and arch faintly into his palm. naoya groans low in his throat.

“beautiful,” he rasps. “fuck. you’re so—”

his hand squeezes gently, rolling your nipple between thumb and forefinger in lazy circles. you shiver. he switches to the other, kneading gently, testing the soft weight, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger until it hardens further under his touch. your breath hitches every time he pinches and he drinks in the helpless sounds you make, the way your back arches like you can’t help it.

he takes his time. minutes stretch. the fever makes everything hazy and slow; there’s no urgency tonight, only this burning need to feel you, to map every inch he’s fantasized about while trapped in endless meetings.

“so soft,” he mutters. “been thinking about these for days. how they’d feel. how they’d look when i—”

he doesn’t finish. instead he drags his hand lower. slowly. fingertips tracing the underside of your breast, down across your stomach. he nudges the remaining fabric of your yukata aside with the back of his hand until it falls open completely. cool air hits more of your skin. you gasp and your thighs press together. but he doesn’t let them stay closed.

his palm slides between them, nudging them apart until your legs part for him. the heat of you radiates against his fingers before he even touches you. when he does—when two fingers glide along your slit—he finds you soaked. slick coats his fingertips instantly.

“already this wet,” he breathes, almost accusing. “just from me touching your tits?”

you bite your lip and try to stifle the moan that wants to escape. it doesn’t work. the sound slips out anyway when he parts your folds with two fingers and drags them up to circle your clit. slow. teasing. barely enough pressure to make you tremble.

“naoya—” your voice cracks on his name.

he groans at the sound and then he lets one fingertip slip inside. not deep. just the very tip, barely past the first knuckle. he doesn’t push further. he simply holds it there, letting you feel it without giving you more, while his thumb hovers over your clit—close enough that you can feel the warmth of it, but not quite touching.

your hips push forward, chasing him, wanting more of him, all of him—but he doesn’t let you have it. instead he curls his finger ever so slightly, then pulls back until only his fingertip rests at your entrance again and circles. in, barely, out, barely.

“naoya, please—” you say, embarrassed at how bad you want him.

“so fucking desperate,” he breathes. “dripping down my fingers before i’ve even really touched you, huh?”

he watches your face the entire time—eyes locked on yours—drinking in every inch you move, every moan, every time your hips roll in desperate circles trying to take more. but then he pulls his hand away and you whine at the loss.

“ride me,” he says. not an order exactly—more like a need he can’t hide anymore.

you hesitate for half a heartbeat, eyes flicking down to the very obvious bulge of him—a dark spot already blooming at the tip from how long he’s been hard—then back to his face.

he tilts his head slightly, studying you. “have you done this before?”

you swallow and nod once.

“then come here.”

he reaches down and tugs the tie of his yukata open. his cock springs free—thick, flushed dark at the head, veins standing out along the shaft, already leaking steadily from the slit. it twitches against his stomach the moment it’s exposed, a fresh bead of precum welling up and sliding down the underside.

he doesn’t touch himself this time, instead his hand returns to your hip, guiding you closer. “come,” he says. “ride me. slow. i want to feel every inch.”

your heart hammers so loud you’re sure he can hear it. you shift, mindful of how weak he still is, and straddle his hips, knees sinking into the futon on either side of him. the slick head of his cock brushes your inner thigh, leaving a sticky trail.

you reach down—fingers trembling—wrap them around his base and your breath catches. oh shit, he’s big. thicker than you imagined, veins throbbing under your palm, the head already slick and swollen. you tremble harder, guiding him slowly, heart pounding as the sheer girth presses against your entrance, stretching just the tip inside with a wet, burning pressure that makes your thighs shake.

“that’s it,” he breathes, hands settling on your hips. “take me.”

you sink down—slowly—feeling every thick inch stretch you open. naoya is so thick that the first real press of him makes your breath hitch sharp in your throat; your walls have to part around him inch by torturous inch, fluttering helplessly, trying to accommodate the blunt girth that feels impossible at first.

you tremble above him—thighs shaking, fingers digging into his shoulders for balance—unable to drop all the way down as the stretch burns sweet and overwhelming. you pause there, needing a long moment just to adjust, to let your cunt soften around the fat head and the thickest part of his shaft.

naoya groans low beneath you, head tipping back against the pillow while he feels every tiny clench, every flutter of you trying to take him. his hands settle on your hips as he watches you struggle so prettily.

“look at you,” he says. “shaking like a virgin all over again. can’t even take me properly yet, can you?”

each shallow lift and sink makes your breasts bounce gently, drawing his gaze like a magnet. he stares—unblinking, fever-bright—watching the way they sway with your careful movements. he smirks, even as his own breath stutters from the tight heat gripping him.

“bet your last lover never made you pause like this,” he murmurs. “probably had a little prick—barely filled you at all, did he? no wonder you’re trembling so hard now. poor thing’s never had anything this thick splitting her open.”

the words hit like a slap—hot shame and heat flooding your cheeks—but they only make your cunt clench harder around him. another inch slips inside on a wet, slick slide. naoya hisses through his teeth at the sudden squeeze, fingers digging into your hips.

“that’s it,” he breathes. “keep going. take your time. i want to feel every second of you struggling to fit me.”

you do—slow, agonizingly slow—lifting just enough to feel the drag of him along your walls before sinking back down another fraction. and naoya can’t tear his eyes away. his thumbs brush the undersides of your breasts now, teasing the sensitive skin while you work yourself lower, lower, until finally—finally—your ass meets his thighs and he’s buried to the hilt. you both freeze for a heartbeat, your cunt stretched wide around his thickness.

naoya’s head falls back again; a long, low groan rumbles from his chest. “fuck… there we go,” he mutters. “took me so well. look how pretty you are—sitting on my cock like you were made for it.”

his hands slide up—cupping your breasts again, thumbs flicking the nipples once, twice—making them bounce in his palms while you whimper and clench around him.

“now ride me,” he says. “slow. let me feel how tight that little cunt is.”

you start to move—tentative at first, hips circling, lifting only an inch or two before sinking back down—and naoya watches every second: your trembling thighs, your tits, the way your face twists with pleasure.

you slowly increase the pace and ride him harder, faster while he cups your breasts, thumbs flicking the swollen peaks once, twice, making them jiggle harder in his hands. then, without warning, he delivers a light slap to the underside of one—sharp enough to sting sweetly.

“keep going,” he rasps. another slap—this one to the other breast—lighter but deliberate, watching the way it jiggles and flushes under his palm. “look at these tits bouncing while you ride me. so fucking pretty.”

the sting blooms into heat; your cunt clenches hard around him in response. you whimper and pick up the pace just a fraction more, rolling your hips deeper, grinding down until your clit drags against his pelvis with every full drop. he slapped your tits again, then squeezed, then slapped once more—each sharp crack of his palm sending heat straight to your core.

naoya’s breathing turns harsher, chest rising and falling fast despite the fever. one hand stays on your tits while the other grips your hip now, helping you take him harder, faster. the wet slap of skin on skin fills the small room, mixing with your soft cries and his groans.

“fuck—take it,” he mutters, slapping the side of one breast again, watching it bounce and redden. “ride me like you mean it. milk me with that tight little cunt.”

you do—hips rolling faster now, thighs burning, cunt dragging around his thickness as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter. your tits bounce with every descent—slapped, squeezed, tormented until they’re flushed and sensitive and aching in the best way.

naoya’s control frays. his hands leave your breasts to grip your waist, holding you down as he grinds up into you. despite the fever burning through him—skin slick with sweat, breaths coming too fast and shallow—his hips snap up with sudden, brutal force. he drives into you hard, deep, relentless—each upward thrust slamming in with a wet smack that echoes in the small room. the thickness of him stretches you wider on every stroke, the head battering against your cervix until your vision whites out at the edges.

a loud moan rips out of your throat, before you can clamp a hand over your mouth. fast, punishing, hips pistoning up from beneath you even as his body trembles with exhaustion and heat. every thrust forces another cry from you.

“quiet,” he growls through gritted teeth. “they’ll hear you—fuck—they’ll all hear how good my cock feels in you.”

you try. you really try. your free hand flies to your mouth, biting down on your knuckles, but another hard upward slam punches a muffled scream past your fingers anyway.

“can’t—can’t stop—” you gasp between moans, voice cracking. “too—too fast—naoya—” but he doesn’t slow down.

if anything he fucks up harder; bury him to the hilt over and over. your walls flutter and spasm around his thickness, clenching so hard he hisses through his teeth.

“let them hear,” he rasps. “let the whole fucking estate know who’s ruining this tight little cunt. who’s making you scream like this.”

another loud cry tears from your throat as he slams up deep, holding you down on him for a long second so you feel every throbbing inch buried inside. your thighs shake violently around his waist; slick drips down his shaft, coating his balls, soaking into the futon beneath him.

and you’re gone. cock drunk, mind melted, body nothing but a trembling vessel for him now. the last coherent thought you had shattered somewhere between the next brutal thrust and the way he held you pinned, forcing you to feel every thick, throbbing inch stretch and claim you. now there’s only heat, only fullness, only the relentless drag of him inside you as he keeps fucking up into your limp body.

you can’t fight it. can’t even try.

your arms hang useless and your head falls forward, hair sticking to your damp forehead, then back as another deep slam punches a moan from your throat. echoing off the thin walls like you don’t care who hears anymore—because you don’t. you’re too far gone to care.

“gonna—fuck—gonna come—”

you feel him everywhere. feel his cum everywhere when he comes. the first thick pulse hits deep—hot, heavy, flooding your core in a sudden rush. you feel it bloom inside: warm spurts coating your walls, painting every inch, filling the tight space until there’s nowhere left for it to go. another pulse follows—then another—each one throbbing against your sensitive inner walls, stretching you further.

feel his head press against your cervix with every spurt of his release until you can feel the excess already leaking out: slow, sticky trails seeping around his shaft where he’s still buried inside you, dripping down your inner thighs in warm strands.

and naoya doesn’t stop. even after he’s come, he keeps going. hips snapping up, using your slick, oversensitive cunt like it’s his personal fucktoy. your walls flutter weakly around him—too exhausted to clench properly—but still so wet, so open, so perfectly ruined for him.

“look at you,” he mutters. one hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise; the other slides up to fist in your hair, yanking your head back so he can see your face—eyes glassy, mouth slack, drool slipping from the corner of your lips. “fucked dumb already. just a pretty little doll for me to use.”

he exhales roughly through his nose.

then he moves.

strong hands grip your waist and flip you, dropping you face-down onto the futon. your cheek presses into the damp fabric; breasts flatten beneath you; ass lifts instinctively as he manhandles your hips up just enough. he doesn’t give you time to brace.

he drives back in—hard, deep, brutal—one long, punishing thrust that buries him to the hilt again. the thick length forces its way through your already cum-stuffed cunt; the pressure is obscene. his earlier release gets pushed out around his shaft in a sudden, messy gush. it leaks out in spurts, splattering wetly against your inner thighs, dripping down onto the floor in fat, sticky drops.

but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t slow. just keeps fucking into you like he’s trying to carve himself deeper, like he wants to fuck his release right back inside until there’s no room left for anything else.

naoya’s mind fractures in the haze between thrusts—fever thoughts cutting through the lust.

an illegitimate child.

the words surface unbidden, the way they always do when his body betrays him with want instead of control. a brat with his blood and your softness. no name, no clan standing, just another stain the elders would use to sharpen their knives against him. scandal. weakness. proof he couldn’t keep his cock in his pants around a servant girl.

unfortunate.

dangerous.

he should stop. should pull out. should spill on your back, your stomach, anywhere but deep inside where it could take root.

but he doesn’t.

he can’t.

not when your cunt is feeling so good around him—greedy, slick, milking every drop he’s already given you like it’s starving for more. not when the wet squelch of his cock plunging back into the mess he’s made is the most perfect sound he’s ever heard. not when your body trembles beneath him—limp, cock-drunk, ass raised just enough for him to drive deeper—and every sob that spills from your swollen lips is a plea he can’t ignore.

fuck the risk.

fuck the consequences.

right now the only thing that matters is the heat of you wrapped around him, the way your walls spasm every time he bottoms out, the obscene splash of his cum being forced out only to be fucked right back in with the next deep thrust.

he wants to keep filling you.

keep marking you.

keep claiming every inch until there’s no part of you that doesn’t drip with him.

fever be damned.

so he does.

he fucks you through the night.

naoya zenin has never cared less about tomorrow.

a/n: i’m sorry guys....

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.”