#mudano x reader

There might not be any grand romantic gestures between you, cuddling or canoodling or keeping conversation just for fun, but there’s warmth in the spaces you’ve reserved for each other in your hearts, however minimal it may be.

You appreciate that about Mudano—his way of keeping his affections undeniably special.

Some people might say that his unwillingness to allow you to accompany him on missions is a sign that he doubts your competency or skills, but you’re well aware that his motives are only to keep you out of harms way, and nothing more. He cares far too much to put you in deliberate danger if he can help it.

So to say you’re surprised to be sharing a quiet hotel elevator ride with Naito, deep in the concrete jungle of metropolitan Tokyo, would be an understatement.

It was a simple enough mission—more of a personal request from Rasetsu’s principal since he’s unable to leave the island of Onigashima himself—that seemingly determined that your presence wouldn’t result in extra worry for the straight-laced professor.

(And perhaps the mysterious and obviously more lighthearted admin of the school even had a part in swaying Mudano to let you be his mission partner this time around. After all, he’s one of the few people that know what you and Mudano are to each other, and the Principal has always been quite encouraging about it.)

That’s not to say you weren’t excited to get some one-on-one time with Naito either, since he tends to structure his days and class schedules quite diligently, and he’s certainly not one to engage in public displays of affection at any given time. Moments for just the two of you are ones you keep close to the chest, so getting his undivided attention for a little while sounded like an absolute treat.

“We get to share a room,” you muse as you place your things on the chaise in the corner of your hotel room, admiring the view outside the window.

“It conserves the Academy’s budget.” Naito dryly explains, placing the briefcase which contained the reason for this evening’s mission on the floor. “And it’s easier to keep an eye on things. It’s more efficient.”

He can’t just say that he wanted you close by.

“There you go again.” Your laughter bounces off the plain neutral walls, stepping over to the bed to test its comfortability for the night. The sheets feel soft enough as you run your fingers over the fibers. As your eyes move about the room, something catches your attention. Not for it’s standout features of flashiness, but on the contrary, its glaringly simple existence.

The very modern ensuite bathroom, very unlike the traditional wash rooms at Rasetsu. Which isn’t a problem, but it hadn’t even crossed your mind until the very moment your eyes swept over it.

“We’ll have to use the same shower.”

Mudano stands quietly, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his slacks as he ascertains what you mean. His eyes drift to the threshold of the bathroom, then meet yours for a moment before offering a simple solution to the perceived dilemma.

“Ladies first.”

“No, you can go first,” you quickly counter as you sit at the edge of the bed. “I’m sure you’re way faster than me.”

He eyes you again for a beat before reaching for the knot of his tie. “Very well.”

He gives the tie a practiced tug from around his neck and places it on the bed, proceeding to methodically undo the buttons of his dress shirt. His fingers move dexterously, inching to reveal the bold bodysuit underneath. Tattoos of a past that you’ve only caught glimpses of in rare moments you’ve been brave enough to ask about. Naito isn’t secretive, just private. His avoidant details tell you far less than the work itself, the inky black patterns laid over his collarbones, across his chest, down his sternum and…

There’s a pause before he reaches the last button, and it takes you a second too long to realizes he’s stopped undressing because you’re staring at him.

It’s mildly embarrassing; it’s hardly the first time you’ve seen your own lover without a shirt, and a few times he’s even been kind enough to allow you to remove it for him, but this setting makes things feel uncharacteristically… foreign. Exciting. So much so that you let your mind wander to those stereotypical movie scenes of steamy romance and how it might look between you and the man who you’ve definitely seen naked, just not naked and wet, a pleasant sheen over defined muscle and dripping from*—*

“Would you like to join me instead?”

Your line of sight darts back to his coal black gaze, relaxed and far too neutral, so you can’t be sure if his mouth was actually moving just now or if you imagined his voice inside your wildly delusional head. The latter is certainly far more plausible.

But the way his eyes narrow a fraction, like he’s telling you he won’t ask twice, confirms the doubt.

“Oh… I— If you think that would be… Um, more efficient?”

God, you sound like him right now. You want to laugh at yourself, but your levity gets caught in your throat over the entire situation at hand. Your palms feel a little sweaty, your nerves making your fingers twitch against the freshly creased linens.

You’ve been intimate with Naito, but you’ve never showered with him before, and for some reason that feels way more personal than sharing a bed.

There’s a pause, silence that’s typically comfortable between the two of you, but in this moment feels thick and unnerving and has your thoughts running a mile a minute.

But then you hear Naito sigh.

“It wasn’t a suggestion with efficiency in mind…” He finishes with the last button of his perfectly pressed shirt, revealing in full the decorated markings of his lean but strong body as it slides off of his shoulders.

The quiet shift of fabric being laid onto the bed is the only thing that cuts through the tension in the air before he finishes his sentence.

“Only indulgence.”

You feel an immense heat crawl up the back of your neck. You’re not sure that it’s actually Naito Mudano standing in front of you right now, if not for the too familiar unyielding weight of his pitch black eyes. Since when did he cast aside efficiency for blatant indulgence? And during a mission, no less.

Well, the hard part of the mission is over, anyway…

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. It feels like your mind is buffering to blurt out any sort of answer, but trying to stay focused on his generous suggestion while ogling at his shirtless form only makes things terribly difficult for your poor brain to keep up with.

You like to think he’s blissfully unaware of the effect he can have on someone like you.

Without breaking stride, Naito pulls his belt from the loops of his trousers before tossing it to the bed and making his way to the bathroom.

“I won’t wait long.”

You know he wont, but you’re not sure why you still hesitate, feet planted to the floor like they’ve taken root all of a sudden. Perhaps it’s because you’re used to the idea of this being quite impossible with the bathing arrangements at Rasetsu. Thanks to the traditional setup and a firm boundary on mixed bathing, for students and teachers, the thought of sharing a bath with Naito never really crossed your mind aside from being some sexy faraway fantasy that you were sure he’d never bring up on his own.

You’ve gotten so used to the same routine that the sudden crumbling of those walls built around it leaves you slightly anxious.

The sound of running water pulls you from your thoughts, a realization that Naito is probably already in the shower, which means you have about thirty seconds to decide if you’re going to take him up on his offer or leave it to be desired.

Twenty-nine…

Twenty-eight…

You force your feet to move, rather quickly pattering into the bathroom and starting to remove your clothes, trying to ignore the distracting flutter in your lower abdomen.

For all you know, Naito could end up hating this, failing to grasp the whimsy and finding it easier to just continue to bathe alone when you head back to Rasetsu in the morning and never speak of it again.

But there’s a chance he might enjoy it too, otherwise he likely wouldn’t have given it a passing thought to begin with.

He could just be doing it for you, too. But as thoughtful as that is, you’d like to think he has at least a small reason to want to do it for himself. He deserves to be a little selfish after spending countless hours thinking about others.

The glass shower door has already begun to cloud with steam, leaving Naito as a waning indistinct figure on the other side. No sooner do your panties fall to your ankles are you sliding into the rather cramped space directly behind him.

You’re greeted by the intricate patterns that adorn Naito’s back, shimmering in waves like a heavy rain on a spring evening as he lets the water beat down onto his shoulders. His hair hangs heavy, a waterfall of tar black that molds to the curves of his neck.

It’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, in a strange way. It’s most definitely not the first time you’ve seen him stripped down—physically speaking—but as the cascade of water soaks into his hair and glides down his back, its almost as if his exterior is being washed away right before your eyes, softening his edges, giving way to the part of himself he holds far too deep for anyone to reach.

It’s much warmer inside the enclosure of the shower, the air thickening with every ticking second. Your eyes roam the planes of Naito’s body, firm musculature of a well-trained soldier with markings from shoulder to spine and down to his thighs.

You know what they mean, what purpose they serve—a constant reminder of his past, forever etched into the surface of his skin like a punishment that never fades.

You’re not left to dwell on it for too long, because a look over his shoulder shifts your attention. You stand awkwardly away from the water, clutching your arms as the billowing steam against the cool air leaves you goose-fleshed. You’re not sure why you feel so nervous.

Naito wordlessly reaches out to pull you closer, positioning you in his place in front of the hot stream of water. He stands at your back as you near instantly let yourself relax as the warmth beats down into your tired muscles, releasing the day’s tension with a sigh.

“How’s the temperature?” It’s a quiet thrum at your ear, an earnest question.

“It feels good…” The water pressure begins to melt you, inevitably bringing a rumble of pleasure up the column of your throat like a cat’s purr. “Really good.”

The day has been long, a few hours on the Shinkansen left you stiff, and walking through the shadows and alleyways of Tokyo to avoid Momotaro detection really put a strain on your legs. You’re just thankful nothing went awry this time for you to have to fight. Relatively speaking, this assignment went off without a hitch. No mishaps, no wounds to tend to, no need for backup or sudden retreat.

“This is nice,” you playfully muse to break the quiet.

“I wouldn’t get used to it.” His answer keeps the same indifferent tone, albeit a little softer this time. It’s not said from a place of unwillingness, but reinforcing the normalcy for when you both return to the school. Always the sensible one.

“Well then,” you sigh as you let your head fall back, welcoming the downpour of calming water. “I guess we’ll just have to enjoy this while we can.”

“Yeah…” He responds definitively. His fingers softly clutch your hips, as if you might disappear into vapor if he were to let go. The way his hair drips onto the back of your neck makes you squirm a little.

You stay like that for a short length of time, just appreciating the atmosphere and the company of one another in silence, as you always have.

After one long minute, you feel Naito steadily pull you against him, enough to feel his rigid chest against your back, a slight tickle of his breath that makes you bristle with a chill.

“Is this okay?” His voice is smooth and hushed, barely audible through the soft din of the shower, like caution has overtaken his senses, like he won’t move without your blessing. Like he’s tentatively proceeding one small step at a time. You wonder if it’s less about perception or analysis and more about… something else.

And then it dawns on you that this is a new experience for the both of you, a new kind of nakedness and vulnerability within the realm of physical intimacy. Neither of you are ignorant of the expectations here, but it’s still fresh. Unknown. You’re definitely more nervous than he is, but his habitual check-ins always have a knack for easing you out of it.

Every step forward in your relationship together has been treated just the same—Cautiously, observant, assessing every touch and movement for the rights and wrongs.

And there’s been very little wrongs.

You hum thoughtfully, tilting your head to the side when you feel the featherlight touch of his mouth against your shoulder. “Yes. More than okay.”

It’s faint, but you hear the breath he releases, slowly, as if he’s allowing himself the reprieve to let his hands and his lips wander over your dewy flesh. Not with confidence, nor reluctance either, but acting with the utmost deliberation in his actions.

It’s slow and appreciative, tracing an imaginary line with the press of his lips, working his way up the column of your neck as his slick hair drips tepidly onto your skin that’s now beginning to burn up.

You allow yourself to fall into bliss, savoring such a rare and unexpected occurrence. If you were anywhere else, any number of things would redirect Naito’s disciplined laser focus, a machine with well-oiled cogs that are constantly rotating to keep duress at a minimum and be prepared for any threat or disruption.

But here, in this small space devoid of danger, that exact focused attention has fallen completely onto you, and that in itself is something you hadn’t anticipated being quite as heavy as it is.

Naito is an intense man; his emotions are as sharp and hard as granite, oftentimes difficult to decipher, but there’s never any doubt conveyed in the reverence he exudes for the person you’ve become to him. Something to cherish, something that perhaps makes him feel a little more normal… Whole, even. Less like a soldier and more like a piece of something bigger than himself.

You feel the way his arm wraps around you, coiling you into a firm embrace while he sprinkles your damp skin with affections. You’re pressed safely against his chest, sturdy enough to be a reliable failsafe should your knees happen to buckle under his pointed attention while the steam of the shower continues to swirl in plumes around you like a veil, hiding you away from any intrusion that might interrupt such a perfectly intimate moment.

Naito’s touch migrates, fingers gliding over skin like topography he’s fought to memorize. Your breath hitches as he trails up over your breast, palm brushing over your nipple before giving a polite squeeze.

You sigh and arch into his touch, silent in your request for more. He takes your non-verbal permission, letting his thumb sweep slowly over the stiffening bud. You hum in pleasure before choking out a soft moan as Naito adds more pressure, pinching the sensitive pert flesh between two fingers.

The stiff metal of his ring against your nipple has you gasping, a telltale sensation rolling down your spine and making your core flutter desperately for attention.

“N-Naito…” Your voice falls off with a slur of a whisper, barely able to move your tongue the way it needs to. He’s already found the strings to begin unraveling you, the thick air and relaxing massage of the water only aiding in his advances.

Naito remains quiet, pitch-black eyes narrowing the more he watches you react to his touch. It’s not a look of smug power or control, but rather a misunderstood gaze of admiration, like seeing a rose blooming in his hands in real time. A privileged sight.

You press back against his chest then, almost involuntarily as your head starts to spin the more he delivers such attentive touches. Each point of contact stirs that reservoir of desire deep within you. His lips that caress your most tender spots, rolling your nipple between two fingers that produces needy little moans. His hand at your waist that dutifully steadies you, and without you even realizing it, encourages a soft rock of your hips against his groin. It’s all gotten you dizzy beyond belief, and so very slick between your legs.

As if reading your mind or your body language—or both— Naito slips a hand between your thighs that already threaten to tremble under his touch.

He unmistakably presses the pads of his fingers to your clit, giving way to a sigh from your relaxed mouth as they begin a slow and steady pace to circle around the bundle of nerves. The heat immediately begins to blossom in your core, a pleasure so tender that it threatens to tug at the delicate strings of your heart.

Naito patiently gauges every one of your reactions, the way you arch against his chest, your intake of breath, reading into your sensitivity levels and using them to his advantage to deliver waves of pleasure to your center.

You’d never really know it, the way it’s buried behind his permanent indifference, but he’s always studying you, a rooted desire to claim all familiarity over you, a curiosity he’s never had before with anyone else.

To Naito Mudano, people were just people for the majority of his life, but somehow you’re different. It borderline fixates him to your existence in this cruel life he’s come to know far too well. You’ve begun to flip his proverbial axes, alter his very existence, feeding into an undiscovered need. Naito has fallen victim to a fabled alchemy beyond what lies in textbooks and myth, an all encompassing shift to his perpetual blood-stained world.

It’s an attachment he swore he’d never allow, a weakness to his weary soul that can’t ever see the light of day so long as he draws breath.

Not out of shame, but out of fear.

Only right now, he’s evidently heeding to your earlier suggestion, to savor the moment, to indulge in every feasible aspect of you until he’s had his fill. Because sneaking around Rasetsu is fine, but it’s become apparent to him that he’ll never get you like this while within the walls of the school.

Your head tilts back and rests against Naito’s shoulder, losing yourself by the second as he precisely unwinds you with the deftness of his fingers. He swipes softly over your entrance, bringing your arousal to join the water that continues to gently trickle between your thighs.

He displays no urgency, no rush to have you finish as quickly as possible, but a slow and steady build up instead, to let you experience the greatest amount of pleasure he can deliver to you. The concept of efficiency has started to take on a whole new meaning.

You bite down on your bottom lip, muffling your moans to quiet yourself when Naito brushes his nose against your cheek.

“You don’t have to do that here.”

Oh.

You’ve gotten into the habit of keeping a low profile on your relationship while at Rasetsu, because in Naito’s eyes, knowledge can be a weapon in the hands of the wrong people, should it slip through the cracks. The likelihood of someone walking by his room or an otherwise empty lecture hall or staff office keeps you hyper aware of having to mask your connection him. It’s all necessary precautions you’ve agreed to take for the sake of lessening his worries of protecting you.

But here, there’s no one to worry about. The mere probability of anyone relevant, whether Oni or Momotaro, being within earshot of this unsuspecting hotel room in the middle of Tokyo is surely a fraction of a percent.

As you process your surroundings, the vice of your teeth slowly releases your bottom lip, allowing your sounds of pleasure to morph with the newfound shape of your mouth.

They’re clear and salacious, soft pitched moans and choked out curses, properly projected into the thick steamy air. And all the while Naito pays close attention, lidded gaze stuck on your expression as his fingers smooth through your folds and over your clit at an effective pace.

Your nerves feel taut as he inches you closer to climax, lashes fluttering helplessly through each pulse of want deep down in your core.

Naito noses at your exposed jawline, laving his tongue to lick at droplets of water that trail down your neck. Everything feels hot; every touch point now somehow more searing than the water temperature. His teeth gently scrape over your pulse, a hindered growl creeping out from deep within his chest.

As if he’s enjoying this too.

“F-Fuck, Naito—” you whine desperately as the telltale crest begins to peak, nails sinking into the black ink of his arm. He exhales sharp against your neck, adjusting the rhythm of his fingers against your bundle of nerves accordingly to get you over that edge.

Watching. Listening. Feeling. He analyzes your body language so fluently it’s downright overwhelming.

Your legs begin to shake, muscles tense and gradually your moaning crescendos into a breathless pitch. You haven’t even realized that your hips started rocking unsteadily against the friction that his fingers are already providing, chasing that sensation like a primal instinct.

Then you feel it— the tightly wound knot in your core breaks*,* vision faltering as you ascend into climax. Naito watches you fall apart, dark clumped lashes hanging low over the endless void of his irises that drink you in with such weighted intensity.

Like he’s observing nature with the most intimate front row seat.

You pant through the aftershocks, ever thankful that you’ve got someone capable to hold you up because you’re not sure your legs are at all reliable now, and it’s almost hard to breathe in the heavy vapor in the air.

Naito’s pace over your clit gradually slows to a soothing sluggish calm, nuzzling into your cheek appreciatively, like praise for a job well done. The beat of your own heart in your ears overtakes the hush of the shower, drifting you into a fog of ecstasy.

You sense a shift then, the water that was cascading down over you disappears, followed by a sobering chill of wet tile against your back. Naito rests a hand against the wall, bracing himself closely.

If it were anyone else, they’d be pissing themselves in this position, effectively cornered by one of the most revered Oni known for his impeccable combat skill and brutal strength. A measured terror. A monster in all regards.

But to you, he’s the one you trust implicitly with your life without a second thought about it. He is safety, a shelter, a protective shroud from the brutality of the world you exist in.

He brings his hand between your thighs once more, slipping his fingers through your folds before pressing softly against your entrance. You can’t help but keen at the action, hips writhing with the shallow intrusion.

He pushes past the opening of your center to slide two of his slender fingers inside your walls that are already eager for him, a gentle pulse around the digits that coax him deeper and deeper.

The back of your head pushes against the tiled wall, knees drifting further apart to invite him in like a guest of honor. Naito’s palm cups against your mound, protectively so, as his fingers slide in and out of your slippery cunt at a slow exploratory pace.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, kneading into muscle with every glide of his knuckles, gasping at the way his palm grinds so perfectly over your clit.

Naito continues to crowd you, damp hair brushing your forehead, the pitch black of his eyes locked onto you to really watch you fall apart this time.

You do your best to maintain the eye contact, lashes fluttering with every subtle curl of his fingers into that precise spot inside you, mouth in a wide ‘oh’ shape, eliciting pleasurable sounds in the very tight space between you.

He leans in another inch, lips grazing the corner of your mouth as he speaks in a low register.

“Can you handle more?”

His words shoot straight to your pussy, clenching around his fingers with want. You whimper as you nod your head, nails gently digging into shoulders for stability, a desperate rock of your hips against his palm. The look on his face right now says he could swallow you whole, but you’re only too willing to surrender, pliant all the way down to your bones.

Naito pointedly presses the pads of his fingers firmly into the spongey spot inside your walls, delivering a shock of pleasure that leaves you gasping for air.

In the same instance, he moves to apply pressure around your throat, lithe fingers of his free hand wrapping around your neck to squeeze over the artery that supplies the oxygen to your brain.

It’s gentle enough to not choke the life out of you, but an accurate measured amount to leave the desired effect.

You moan more deliberately now, eyes rolling toward the back of your head as you’re plunged into a surge of euphoria. It feels so good that your mind begins to fray, bursts of fading white clouding your vision.

Naito seems to know every button to press, every carefully calculated combination to access your body’s maximum dopamine release. He curls his fingers more deliberately, a rapid tap tap tap against that front wall of your core while holding pressure to your neck.

It’s all you can do to cry out in the flood of pleasure, one moan blending into another as the wave hits without so much as a second of interruption. Your lash line pricks hot with tears, camouflaged by the wetness of the shower and your own sweat that tacks strands of hair to your face.

“N-Nai…” Your breath falls off, mind going numb to everything except the crescendo of your second orgasm. You look desperately between the black pits of his eyes, ready to fall into them at any given moment.

“Show me,” he says in a light command, his voice tickling the shell of your ear. “Show me how it feels.”

With a faint squeeze of his hand and a few more motions of his fingers, you’re hurdled into another wave of release, tears falling as you cry out his name like mercy on your tongue. Naito then lets up from your neck, returning the oxygen back to your brain to carry your high even further. Your weak fingers grasp at his shoulders, paw at his chest, sobbing as the seconds pass for you to come down once again.

Naito uses every opportunity to properly drink you in, his mouth ever so slightly parted to quell his own breathing. His chest aches so tenderly, something he’s felt before in his time of knowing you, but still can’t put into any words himself. He wants to be sure before he says them, because he values his resolve.

He retreats his fingers from your heat, a loss that brings you back to earth, back into the shower that’s done nothing to get either of you clean. Not that you mind, of course.

On the contrary, you think you’d give pretty much anything to not ever have to leave this place.

“You’ve done very well.”

Naito’s thumb traces the vein in your neck, as if he’s feeling exactly how hard your blood is pumping under the surface of your skin. His other hand snakes behind your lower back, as if he were holding a delicate bruised flower.

To feel his touch is like feeling heaven against your skin. And though he refuses to believe in such a place, you have half a mind to believe that it exists right here under his very palms.

You beam under his praise, hands reaching for his face to coax him closer. Naito thumbs over your jawline, his breath fanning over your dewy lips, just out of reach.

“Can I continue?”

Your eyes flutter to focus, feeling dazed enough to certainly last you the night, but you’d by lying if you said you weren’t feeling utterly greedy for Naito’s attention now.

You lean in, barely enough to skim your lips against his own as you give a response no higher than a whisper.

“Please—”

It’s all you’re able to manage before he’s crashing his lips to yours, both tender and ferocious somehow. He hardly has to ask for any more permission; your mouth parts on instinct to allow him to deepen his kiss, slipping his hand from your throat to the back of your neck. He guides you so confidently as he presses your already pliant body between him and the slick tiles at your back.

Now that you’re this close, you can feel how hard he is, his length bearing down against your burning hot skin. It’s then that another wave of desire rolls through you, slipping your hands between your bodies to trail them over the ridges of his toned muscles, blindly tracing the patterns of black ink solely from memory, if only to relish in the way he holds back a small shudder at your touch.

Everything about Naito is measured. His tongue moves in a fluid dance against your own, stealing every breath you can take in the little space he gives you to break for air. For a moment there’s only a symphony of touch between you, smoothing your fingers over the plane of his tattooed chest while he rather uncharacteristically slips a hand over the curve of your ass and gives it a proper squeeze.

There’s something about it that makes you smile to yourself, the idea of the most composed ace of the Oni Agency’s Battle Unit displaying such blatant brazen behavior.

Wanting.

Claiming.

Naito’s touch shifts further down, gripping into the plush of your thigh and slowly hiking it up to brush over his hip. The wet slip of skin on skin feels tantalizing, even more so when his cock rests directly over your mound, nearly causing you to vibrate with desire to have him closer, so much closer…

Before you can whine for more, Naito brings his other hand down and lifts you off of your own feet. There’s only a split second of panic as you’re robbed of your footing before you realize just how steady he holds you, straddled to his waist like you weigh next to nothing.

You knew he was strong, inhumanly so, but you can’t fight the dizzying whirlwind that now flutters in your core over the display of sheer effortlessness. Your pussy clenches like it’s begging to be filled.

And Naito obliges almost too quickly, looking down between the two of you to properly align the head of his length with your slick cunt. He lowers you just enough to breach the tip through your entrance, drinking in the way you reel from the minimal intrusion alone, pressing your nails into the frame of his shoulders until you’re marking him with crescent shaped indentations.

He’s kind enough to start slow, letting every inch sink into your wet heat as he gently lowers you onto his cock, keeping his grip firm under your thighs, all the while holding an intense focus on the way you take him in.

You can hear the smallest reactions fall from his lips, restrained as ever, holding steady to his practiced composure. But you want him to let loose, to not hide so diligently behind that calm collected demeanor of his.

You whimper his name breathlessly, letting him plunge himself deeper into you with every shallow movement. You notice the way his brow tightens just a little behind his bangs, his hardened muscles flexing under the cloak and pattern of black ink.

You tilt your head slowly, placing your wet lips to his cheek, caressing those two inked lines that adorn them with a soft kiss.

“Feels so good. You feel so—”

All at once, you feel pressed into the wall and the full length of his cock sink into you. Naito strains with a barely there groan, fingers gripping into your ass like he needs something to ground him.

You cling to his back, arms now wrapped around his shoulders as you gasp at the fullness of him, ever so patient to let himself make the connection that feels so impossibly complete. Your toes curl, legs dangling helplessly as your walls clench around him, nerves alight and heart hammering in your chest.

Naito conceals his face in the curve of your neck, breath hot on your skin as he pulls back out of your pussy only to thrust back in fully. He creates a rhythm like that, slow and deep and dizzying, pleasure rolling in like waves of the unyielding ocean.

He huffs under his breath as you softly moan into his ear, suspended between the euphoria of him and the hard reality of the tiles at your back. What you wouldn’t give to never part from him like this, to abandon duty and remain here where you can both live out the rest of your days being wrapped up in each other instead of senseless conflict and violence.

And it’s like Naito knows what you’re thinking exactly when you’re thinking it, because he picks up his pace enough to drown out those thoughts, sounds of your pleasure echoing off the walls that drip with desire and condensation. The entire room is shrouded now, mirrors and glass opaque with vapor, like barriers away from the world you don’t need to think about right now.

“Tell me again,” that soft sturdy voice commands you, dripping down the back of your neck and into the spaces of your spine like molten honey.

You know that he doesn’t often seek reassurance, so the logical explanation falls in line with keeping you from drifting too far away from him. He wants you here, present in this shower for as long as the water runs hot, for as long as he can keep you in his arms, safe from everything.

“… so good.” Your mind sluggishly crawls back to him, the existence of him like gravitational pull to ground you. The fullness you feel starts to tip you over the end of your emotions, tears welling in your eyes and holding back the sob lodged in your throat. “It feels so good, Naito.”

Your nails gently rake over his back, thighs squeezing his hips that keep driving his cock into your center. The coil in your tummy tightens almost painfully, your walls spasming with every long drag of his length, attentive and heavy.

Naito adjusts his grip, tilting your hips ever so slightly that his next thrust nearly sends a shockwave through you.

“There, right there—” you pant through the sharp pleasure, chasing the release that feels so tight it might tear you apart. “Please, don’t stop—”

Naito hears your pleas and follows them to the letter, face still tucked away, the softest grunts bouncing off the wet tile behind you. You’re thoroughly pinned, the weight of him pressing you back into the shower wall with undulated force.

Time freezes in a way, your lives awash in this bubble of your own making, focused solely on each other, a luxury of circumstance. The heat of your bodies, stripped of worry and flooded with everything you haven’t yet said to one another.

Sometimes, words just aren’t necessary.

There’s flames licking wildly through your core now, reapproaching the precipice of your release despite the ache and exhaustion. But you welcome it, for the way he’s entwined himself with you so completely he’s practically given you his own tattoo over your beating heart. A mark of permanence.

Your fingers slip through Naito’s hair, giving the black strands a firm enough tug to coax him away from your neck and face you again.

Your lips beg for his, little eloquence in the way you moan around his tongue wantonly, cupping his face in your hands that fight the tremble of overstimulation.

Naito hums with a low growl between your teeth, receiving and delivering with the same intensity. His fingers grip you so hard that you know they’ll leave bruises in their wake. He so thoroughly drowns himself in your pleasure that it naturally coincides with his own, a tension building swiftly in his rhythm the more he bleeds his devotion into his precise strokes and heavy kisses.

You chant his name over and over between your lips, sickly sweet and out of breath, letting every bit of air you manage to get into your lungs belong to him.

He could have the whole of you and you wouldn’t dare protest.

It takes you a moment to realize that Naito’s breathing has labored too, not severely but enough to notice the way he’s started panting against your mouth when you pull away.

Your eyes lock, nose to nose, the solidness of him so much more present as he pushes his cock so deep it gathers the stars and puts them in the center of your pupils.

Your fingers glide over the back of his neck, a touch lingering at his nape so featherlight it makes him bristle, and a second later he’s claiming your mouth again, an urgency laced in the depth of kiss before he thrusts harder. Pointed. Telling.

There’s a muffled moan, a rigidness to him as he stutters his hips. You feel your body beginning to melt into him, limp and spent, a fragile climax threatening to shatter you completely.

His abdomen tightens, a final thrust that pins you to the wall with no other option than to take it, as you’re so willing and ready to.

Naito’s mouth parts from yours if only to let the faintest sound fall away from his lips, breathy and titillating, the twitch of his cock nestled deep inside your cunt signaling the flood of his release just as your walls desperately squeeze around him.

You come together like that, so close and connected that its any wonder where he begins and where you end. And even still, you long to bring him impossibly closer, hot palms caressing his face and leaving little room to breathe through your shared orgasm. His air is your air, his being is your being.

And you’d be none the wiser to think the same of the other way around with the deep penetrating look in Naito’s eyes, a swirling pitch of intensity and reverence.

You practically go limp against him, noting the way his own shoulders go softer without relenting his grip on you. The comedown is slow, savored in a way, an absence of desire to separate, to let this end.

“Will you let me wash your hair, Naito?” you finally say after a minute, weakly nosing at the crook of his neck as if seeking shelter.

His fingers knead into your flesh, absorbing the tremble he can now feel in the muscles of your legs. “Will you be able to stand?”

You curl into him slightly, a smirk creeping across your kiss-swollen lips. “No.”

Naito quietly chuffs at your response. “Then how do you hope to—”

“You’ll hold me up… right?” You cut him off before he can finish his admittedly sensible question.

There’s a silence that follows, that same shared comfortable quietness that’s now only accompanied by the spray of the long forgotten shower, lukewarm and still beating down against the floor.

Your eyes don’t see the fleeting, barely-there twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah… I’ve got you.”

Naito allows you to wash his hair then, strong arms dutifully wrapped around you as your hands swath him in a different indulgence. All the while, he watches you carefully, silently, calmly enamored in your determination to give him something he’s probably never thought of in his lifetime.

A home for his heart.

“Danny,” The broken sob leaves your glossed lips. Your thighs quiver against Mundao’s shoulders, threatening to close around him at any given moment now. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

His ringed hand comes down in a sharp impact against your wet folds. “Don’t start with that whining, beautiful.” Mudano leans forward and presses his flat tongue directly to your hole quivering around his fingers.

You’d probably tug at his dark hat if it wasn’t for the fact Mudano has restrained you to the headboard via his tie around your wrists. Instead, you roll your hips into the new pleasure. “Mudano!”

“Hold still.” The tip of his tongue paints blissful shapes into your sensitive bud all while his fingers ruthlessly massage into the spongy gland inside of you. His other hand comes down to palm and grab at the softness of your ass. Then, his palm is striking you once more. “Fuck. You taste so good. You’re so beautiful, everywhere. So perfect. My pretty pain princess, aren’t you? Fucking love when I slap your pussy, and you take it so well.”

Another slap, and your back is arched off the mattress. “Yes! I-I love it.”

“That’s right.” Mudano slowly pulls his fingers out of you and smooths his hands over your midsection. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

His voice is more adjacent to a rasp than anything; full of sheer want all aimed toward you.

Your voice is soft and breathless when you thank him for the compliment. You watch with eager eyes as Mudano finally pulls out what he’s been hinting at all night from the bedside table.

A jar of maraschino cherries.

His large hand twists the lid off and he grabs a small, sweet cherry by its stem. “Open.” Mudano instructs, then bites the stem between his teeth. His leans in close to your face, a smirk tugging at his lips when you obey the command.

The cherry is slotted between your lips and you bite it free from its stem. After you chew and swallow the sweet fruit, Mudano captures your lips in a sloppy kiss. You moan quietly against his tongue, warmth returning to your core when Mudano circles your nipple with another cherry.

Mudano isn’t vanilla, but you wouldn’t have expected him to bring food into the bedroom. It’s new, it’s different— it’s fun.

“Let it out, beautiful. Feels good, hm?” He kisses a trail from your temple down to your collarbone, eyes glued to the red fruit against you. “So responsive. Fuck, look at you.” Mudano licks the slope of your breast before closing his lips around your all-too-sensitive nipple.

You throw your head to the side when his teeth clamp around the erect bud in the warmth of his mouth. Your hips roll down shamelessly at the feeling. “Danny. More, baby, please.”

His gaze is sharp, but he’s moving an unoccupied hand down to cup your thigh nonetheless. His ring is cool against your skin, but it’s not a reason to complain. “You’re so gorgeous calling out for me.”

slap

“So impatient. You want me right here, don’t you?” Mudano runs his finger down your slickness. “Hm? Your pretty pussy needs some attention. I get it, beautiful. Aw, don’t look at me like that.”

Your eyes are big with need. They nearly cross when Mudano is inserting his finger once more. The fruit which was once circling your nipple is taken into Mudano’s mouth. His eye contact causes your body to shiver. “You’re looking at me.”

Mudano hooks his finger upward, pulling a drawn out moan from you. “Guilty.” He grabs another cherry and dips between your legs once more. The fruit comes in contact with your inner thigh before it’s dancing to your throbbing clit.

“Mm,” Your breath hitches when tight circles are smoothed over the sensitive little bud. Your hole clamps around Mudano, fluttering at the contact. The fruit is smooth with little dips or ridges, so the stimulation is better than you expected.

“You take me so well. Let me give you another one— oh, perfect. I can play with your pussy all day, y/n.” His breath is warmth against you. His eyes are greedy as they drink in the sight of the light red cherry juice worn down your lips and further between your thighs. “Oh, what’s this?”

You swallow thickly, eyes darting down to the head of dark hair between your legs. “Mudano— aah! Danny, y-you’re…” Warmth radiates to your face when the puckered rim of your ass is licked. He really would stay between your legs all day if he could, licking and sucking anywhere that brings you pleasure.

Mudano nips the sensitive skin before licking his lips hungrily. “Delicious.” The cherry is then pressed to your lips. “Taste yourself.”

You don’t hesitate for even a second. Immediately, the sweetness of the fruit combined with the taste of your arousal coats your tongue. A soft hum of approval leaves your mouth. “Tastes so good.”

“Damned right it does.” Mudano takes the jar into his hand, and slowly tips it to the side to wet your pelvis in a short stream of the sweet, sticky liquid. He wets two fingers in the fluid and generously slicks your lips with it. “I forgot the cream. Maybe you can give me some?”

Before you can respond to his sly remark, your back arches off the bed once more. He’s dived straight back in to your pussy, sucking and licking the natural and artificial stickiness pooling at your hole.

Mudano’s tongue is quick and unforgiving, just like his fingers. The sound of his fingers plunging into your desperate cunt is enough to have your head spinning. When that’s mixed with his tongue flicking your clit like it’s the last time he’ll ever taste you, it’s a blinding cycle of pleasure that has your abdomen tightening.

“Danny! Feels so good, baby— yes, fuck —“ You pant, tugging at the restraints around your wrists. You want to hold him, to push his face deeper into your sticky, puffy pussy and fuck his face until you can’t even remember what day of the week it is.

slap!

“I said hold still.” Mudano pushes his messy mop of hair back as he stares up at your flushed and spent expression.

You whine again. “You’re cruel.”

Mudano’s arm hooks underneath your thigh and anchors you right where he wants you. “Again, guilty.” He presses a soft kiss to your other thigh in apology. He admires the way his fingers sink inside of you, and how your walls clench at him each time he pulls them back. Oh, your pussy will be the death of him one day. “So wet for me, baby. So loud. You can fit another one, can’t you?”

“Yes, do it. Stretch me— stretch my pussy on your fingers. Please, Danny.” Your mouth fall open when Mudano is nestling a third finger inside of your slippery walls.

He laps up the mixture of cherry juice and slick again, moaning lowly at the taste. Truthfully, Mudano’s mouth is watering against you. You’re so wet with numerous fluids. His curled fingers knead your walls just how you like it.

Your ass is palmed eagerly over and over, Mudano’s blunt nails digging into your skin at one point. You can’t help but tremble underneath him. Everything feels too good. “Danny..I’m— aah!”

He spits down onto your pussy. “You’re what, beautiful?” His fingers fuck into you faster. The sloppy sounds emitting from you bounce off the walls and into his ears, fueling the massive fire already nestled in his gut.

You clench down onto his fingers when he straightens his posture. The way his inked body looms over you has you gushing around his fingers.

Mudano reaches above you and unties the knot around your wrists, “Come here.”

Quickly, your arms latch around his neck. You pull his strong body down to you and roll your hips down onto his hand in time with the thrust of his fingers.

You make a failed attempt to press your face into Mudano’s chest, resulting in him grabbing your chin again. He wants to hear you.

“No point in getting shy after I just ate cherries off your pussy.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head when Mudano presses his lips against your jaw. Your thighs squeeze around Mudano tightly and your fingers dip into the muscle of his shoulders, “Danny— gonna cum—“

Mudano smirks against your skin, “I want you to make a mess, okay?” A low chuckle floods your ear. “I want that pretty pussy to mark its territory. Cum for me, baby. Give it all to me.”

It’s seriously unfair how effortlessly he can pull any and everything from you.

Your walls squelch around his fingers, coating them in a sticky sheen of white. He strokes your sensitive walls precisely and soaks filth into your ear— telling you you’re his, reassuring you about how good you taste, complimenting your cunt. It’s gibberish. He’s pussy drunk and he only has his fingers inside of you.

When you quiver into the blankets underneath you, Mudano finally pulls his fingers out and immediately laps the mixture of cherry juice and cum into his mouth. “Mm, now this is dessert.”

“Danny! I’m all sticky now.”

—————

Happy Valentine’s Day from your single bestie~

Mudano doesn't spare him another glance, as to not entertain whatever is up the both of your sleeves. "You two do understand I have a class in about an hour, don't you?"

"Ah, come on!" You also rise to your feet. When you sandwich Mudano between you both, you wrap your arm around his, looking up at him with pure want glazing your irises. "Don't be that way."

His composure only falters when Kyouya reaches down a few inches further, cupping his flaccid cock through his pants. "This is what you two are up to?" As much as he hates it, his voice hikes up a pitch out of pure surprise.

"C'mon, Danny. Who knows the next time y/n will be around? Why don't we have some good ole fashion fun before your class fills with students instead of our moans?"

You hum in agreement, pressing your hips into Mudano's leg. "You know you want to."

Mudano inhales a sharp breath, "Lock the door- one of you, do something useful."

— Masumi Yodogawa

Boy dad. Dad to multiple boys. I can't see him stopping at one or two.

Believe it or not, he's stricter than Mudano. Even the other onis are shocked by the fact.

He's strict not because he believes this will make them stronger or whatever. He has enough pride to believe that his kids have it in them to become powerful regardless of their ability. No, he's just strict because he likes to run a tight ship and he wants them to respect his authority as their father.

That being said, he's allergic to stupidity. That also applies to his kids. He won't be the type to shout or reprimand his kids in a loud way. Why? He doesn't need to. One look from him and his kids know they're in deep shit. You can hear a pin drop with how quiet they get...

Whenever his kids ask him for/about something... his default response would be, "Go ask your mother." His kids may be afraid of him... but he is afraid of YOU. On the totem pole of the household, you sit comfortably at the top and he has ZERO complaints about it.

Since he has a bunch of boys... it's expected that chaos is always right around the corner. Fighting, bickering, taunting—the works. Instead of making them stop, he'll encourage them. "You wanna fight? Go. Fight each other then. Don't stop until the other drops like a fly." Do they keep fighting? Nope. Not a chance.

— Kyouya Oiranzaka

Girl dad! I can see him having twins though—LIKE WOULDN'T THAT BE SO CUTE?

He likes teasing his girls that they, "definitely look like their papa," and his kids would grumble each time. He finds joy in seeing them pout while absolutely looking like him. (His genes are strong, what can I say?)

He's a pretty chill dad. Not really gentle parenting per se... but he lets his kids learn from their own mistakes and guide them on how they can do better next time. He's not the type to hound them or crucify them for every small mishap.

He and his kids DEFINITELY play doctor at home. They have all the doctor's equipment in pastel pink plastic form. In between patients (house pets who unwittingly became patients for play time), he would also teach his kids the value of becoming part of the supporting team in their cause.

While other oni dads train their kids to become formidable fighters, Kyouya makes sure that his kids can take his place in the future too.

Out of all the dads... I think he might be the strictest one when it comes to romance. He obviously knows what men are like and what their intentions might be. And yes, he does cry when his daughter tells him that she has a crush at school.

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