✦ be yourself — a fool, yes. a clown? never.
✦ no discrimination. queer, racial, or sexual. the court has standards.
✦ i write dark. i write filthy. i write whatever the story needs — except explicit content involving minors, the dead, or pure incest. these boundaries ≠ discrimination.
✦ Remember: I live to entertain.
you are my kings, queens, and every glorious thing in between.
Podcaster Naoya becomes a submissive porn star ⋆ 6000 w.
cw: non-con, naoya pegged, naoya anal, dumbification, mind break, female dom obvi, and I decided to add a foursome male gang bang cuz why not.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
The porn studio is a room in your complex, down in the basement where every filthy video had been shot and edited. As you enter, tech men are setting up the camera’s, busying themselves with key lighting and props. The only thing out of place are the wires that snake along the floor. But other than that one messy detail, it’s clear this studio is ruled with an iron fist.
The cameras glitter. Sleek, black lenses glint from the soft lamp light on the nightstand. Your tech men hoisted fixtures into the air, picked up bags of hundred-pound equipment like it was no big deal. All without a single word— just the knowledge to get the job done.
Naoya stepped in, the air shifted with a heat, the familiar smell of sex and rubber. He took a gander at the setup. And despite his split lip and the blood stains on his shirt, he still surveyed the room with an air of Zenin authority.
One of the tech men sped past him with a sack thrown over his shoulder— bigger, larger, and taller than Naoya could ever hope to achieve. He clicked his tongue as he scanned the room from corner to corner, itching to find a weakness to pick at.
He glanced at the wires on the floor.
“Rudimentary,” he shrugged. “Would do better if your boss cleaned those up.”
You squinted at him. “I’m the boss.”
“Oh.” He grinned. “No wonder this place looks like a circus act.”
He seemed to have forgotten who even picked him up out of the party in a lambo. Who’s letting him collab with you, and who’s willing to even share a percentage of the money you’ll make from this video, which you know damn well is going to be a hit.
You bit down on your lip, because you knew that no matter what happened tonight, Naoya wouldn’t be the one in control, and he’s going to realize this sooner or later. With a snap of your fingers, one of your lovely gently-giants hands Naoya a bag of clothes.
He took it gingerly, as if he were holding a bomb.
Peeked inside. A disbelieving chuckle bubbled in his chest. “The fuck is…” His voice trailed off.
Oh, he couldn’t wait to see you in this. A bunny outfit, with cute little bows, bunny ears, and a butt plug bunny tail to top it off. He fished out the bunny ears and held it up, picturing every dirty curve of your body that he’d get to ruin.
You clicked your tongue as he held it up to you. The corner of your lip curling up as you stepped closer to him, your heels clacking against the hard wood. “It’s for you,” you whisper.
Naoya’s smile drops. “Excuse me?”
You fiddle with your hands behind your back, feigning innocence. “You want your old house back, right? Your expensive furniture and the maids?”
He looks down at the bag in his hand, irritation flooding his cheeks. “This is… for me?” He blinks, unable to comprehend plain english.
“That’s right~” You say in a sing-song.
Your tech men are all but situated. A majority of them filed out of the doorway once everything had been checked and placed— three of them stayed behind for film purposes. They trained the cameras on the stand-off between you and Naoya.
The reality of Naoya’s situation began to dawn on him by the second as he saw that red blinking light by the lens. “H-he’s recording! We haven’t started! Why is he—?”
“Don’t mind them,” You snap with a placid grin. “They’re just testing.”
He doesn’t seem to believe you as his eyes dart back and forth from you to a different camera positioned around the room. Panic makes his rationality jumble. “You're a female,” He spat, confused as all hell. “You’re supposed to wear something like this. I never agreed to…” His mouth struggled to form the words. “I won’t…”
You leaned closer, and he could practically taste the mint gum on your tongue. You had this cruel delight in your gaze that sent shivers up his spine.
You pinch a tuft of his hair at the scalp, gently. “And your roots are coming in, Naoya. Without me, you’ll just become another black-haired nobody.” He recoils like you burnt him— slapping your hand away.
No. Not his roots.
“Don’t—”
“People know who you are, Naoya. Those haters you’ve relied on for a decade? If they see you on the street they’ll do worse than rob you. Or rough you up. They’ll do to you what they do to women they hate.”
His back hit the wall, sputtering over his own words. Every comeback or insult died in his throat.
You slam your heel between his thighs, near stabbing his dick. Naoya glares down at you, biting back every new wave of fear that crashes into him.
Leaning close, your breath coasts along his skin. “All it takes is a few photos wearing those clothes, and you can hire body guards. Get a nice apartment. Get your roots redone. You won’t have to worry about living on the street, or the filthy people who’d do anything to get their hands on a Zenin.”
Naoya’s breath catches. “That’s not… That isn’t f—”
“Fair?”
He flinched, and a giggle slipped through your sweet lips.
You pulled back, eyes trailing down his frame like you were picking your next snack. Only to stop short at his jeans, and the unmistakable bulge hugging his thigh.
You turn your back to him and saunter to the bathroom, opening the door for him like a princess. “Now… get dressed,” you commanded, not with aggression, but with a dangerously cordial tone that could flip on a dime.
Naoya clutched the bag in his fist, bunny ears and all.
A few pictures.
That’s all this is.
Even if this wasn’t the kind of porn studio he thought it’d be, he can still earn money from this.
His puke-green eyes darted to the floor and sped past you as you held the door open. “Close it,” he said through gritted teeth, not a demand, but with the rough edges of a begging man.
That’s what you like to hear.
You shut the door with a gentle click.
✦ · · · ⚜ · · · ✦
The door unlocked and cracked open just a smidge, a streak of light from the harsh bathroom overhead casted itself into the dark bedroom.
You lounged at the foot of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, bouncing your knee with a languid impatience. “C’mon Naoya,” You beckoned as he shuffled with the door, as if deciding whether or not to step out.
His tone laced itself in venom. “You’re insane— a fuckin’ pervert…”
You snapped to your feet, near prying the door open yourself. “Show me before I throw you out of the goddamn studio.”
He hissed something under his breath and swung the door open.
Naoya revealed himself, both hands covering his bulge, and he didn’t even have the guts to look at you. His gaze remained glued to the floor while he ground his teeth together. You squeezed your thighs together, a heartbeat already throbbing between your legs.
White socks hugged him around his muscle-clad thighs, the very fabric stretched to the brink. And as your eyes trailed up, a baby pink thong curved with his v-line, disappearing into the white shorty-shorts that bunched up around his cock.
His muscles tensed as you raked over his figure, but Naoya bit down on his tongue, knowing he had nothing to retort— no power, no money. His name reduced to rubble at his feet, and his social media presence made a laughing stock around the globe.
Maybe here, with this, he could start again— even if it’s small. And when all is said and done, he’d never speak to you again.
A few pictures, he told himself again. That’s it.
You clicked your tongue, twirling your finger in the air. “Take a turn for me.” Naoya’s face spiked with redness. His nose scrunched like the angry-bunny he embodied.
He turned around slowly, still cupping himself (as if you wouldn’t see it later.)
The crop top was white, with baby pink accents. Sleeveless and skin-tight, it hugged him across the chest, accentuating every curve of hardened muscle that made him a man. The top stretched across his fat pecs— his nipples so erect and prominent beneath the top you’d think he could hold milk.
Fluff decorated the turtleneck, making him appear more cute than he already is with his abashed expression. And on his head— bunny ears. As white as a jack rabbit with baby pink bows adorning the headband.
His thighs, his waistband, his collar… your insides squeezed around air, begging for something to latch onto. But your own pleasure would have to wait. This isn’t about you…
Atleast, not entirely.
Naoya looks over his shoulder, “Are you taking pictures yet?” He says with a shy rumble in his throat.
“Getting there, princess, just stay like that,” You’re already tapping away at your phone. Not to pull up the camera, but to check the livestream.
It’s perfect.
A camera panning at Naoya in this outfit from head-to-toe, zooming in at his ass. Switching lenses when a different angle was necessary— the kinds of things that made a crew all the more worth it.
Naoya can’t stop looking at the big cameras nestled in the corner of the room. “Are those on?” He grumbles, and you can’t see his face but his ears are bright red.
“Still just testing, Naoya, don’t worry. Now be a good boy for me and turn around.”
He bites down on his lip, clearly not believing you but turning around anyways, his blonde bangs covering his eyes. Both hands still splayed out in front of his crotch, covering the goodies.
You’re absolutely giddy.
The angle switches to your phone camera and you kneel to capture the deliciously embarrassed expression on his pretty little face. “Say you’re a good boy,” You coo.
Naoya’s head snaps up. “I-I am not saying that!”
Your gentle smile drops into a warning.
A chill goes up Naoya’s spine, and he’s reminded of everything else he has to lose. “I-I’m a good boy,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Louder.”
“I’m a good boy!” He shouts through trembling vocal chords.
“Put your hands on your head.”
He raises his arms as if he’s fighting some invisible entity. And when he presses his hands against the back of his head, showing off his crotch, you know damn well that this is going to make it in the final cut of the video.
Naoya’s thighs visibly press together while he places his hands against the back of his head. The head of his engorged cock is peeking out of the shorts, pressed tight against his thigh, dripping glop after glop of pre like a needy bitch.
He’s glaring at the floor like he could burn a hole straight through it. Like he could practically hear the future commenters watching him be stripped of everything that— he believed— ever made him a man.
You stand up from your crouched position, and scroll on your phone to review the footage.
But to Naoya, you’re glued to your fucking phone. As if him in a bunny costume isn’t the most pressing matter at hand. Why did that aggravate him so much? Why is it worse to be ignored by you?
This feeling… It's disgusting.
It’s sick.
He’s being put on display like some… like some female.
And worst of all— he’s hard.
No— no not because of this. Not because of the outfit. Not because he’s being humiliated by a female, whose power is taboo and forbidden. Not because three big, burly men are staring at him. And especially not because he’s into that.
You’re the one in the porn industry, where all females naturally belong, because they’re nothing more than baby makers. You’re the one living out a non-feminist life! You’re the one who caved from their own beliefs— not Naoya.
He opened his mouth to snap at you— to make these sentiments known— but your eyes darted to his. “Get on the bed,” You demanded, and everything that made him better than you dissipated from his head in an instant. Something in his chest compelled him to sulk over.
In two shy strides, he climbed onto the bed, finding his spot on the mattress like an embarrassed puppy.
Naoya didn’t realize what was happening until two large hands— from two large bodies on either side of the bed— held down his arms. He squirmed, but their weight pressed down on him hard enough he thought he’d melt into the sheets.
Something tightened around his wrist, tugging him closer. Rope.
“Wait—!” He panicked.
Then the other, and his wrists were knotted together in an instant. He yanked. Squirmed. Kicked. “Y-you said it was pictures!” He cried out.
You climbed onto the bed, the sheets dipping to your weight as you dragged your knee up against his ballsack. Massaging the sensitive muscle with your thigh. “I lied,” you whisper, hot breath ghosting over his skin.
It sends a sick thrill straight into his cock. He twitched against his own thigh; pulsating desperately, begging to be freed from his bunny-shorts.
“But I d-didn’t…”
“Ah ah ah,” You click your tongue. “You came into my studio thinking that you were going to put a baby in me? That you were going to make me choke and scream and cry… is that right?”
Panic and bold-faced lies reared its ugly head. “N-no that’s not what I—” The bed creaked from his struggle as he tried, and failed, to escape the ropes. You pressed your thigh against his crotch harder. Naoya arched, an embarrassingly cute moan slipped past his lips.
Naoya couldn’t think. Couldn’t even bring himself to tell you to stop.
“Oh my fuuuuck,” He groaned, a wave of pleasure crashed into him. The moment another moan threatened to slip, he bit down on his lip, and forced the sound to die in his chest.
He’s never heard himself make such vulnerable sounds before. It tasted weird on his tongue. It sounded disgusting when he released it in the air.
You squeeze your thigh against that lump between his legs like playdough— massaging him in circles that made his eyes flutter back. “So sensitive,” you purr. “Like your body was made to be touched like this.”
You place gentle kisses up his neck, and along his skin, until you reach his lips and experimentally go for a kiss. You slip in tongue, letting him choose whether or not he wants to give in. The wet, warm muscle connects with his and your lips connect. You slip in, tasting the tinge of blood from the thrashing earlier that night. You lap it up anyways.
Naoya’s head is reeling. He’s rutting his sack up against your thigh, arching and groaning helplessly at every caress. And your tongue makes his head spin.
He can’t control it— any of it. Not you. Not himself. Not the way his tongue finds yours and slips against you so sloppily your trading glops of saliva. But he doesn’t care. You taste like cinnamon and old spice, a luxurious aroma he hasn’t experienced in months.
You pull away, satisfied with his complacency. “You’re still getting a cut from this, Naoya. Millions.” You remind him. “Just be a good little boy for me— just for tonight.”
His chin tips back, now lost without your mouth to guide him. Naoya’s head sways from one side to the other in the kind of horny daze he’s never felt before.
His gaze goes dark as he catches the glint of the camera. It zooms in carefully. The man behind the lens lingering in areas no straight man should. A cold shiver ran down Naoya’s spine, all the way to his groin, where his ballsack tightened in response to this weird, sick thrill that came from the eyes.
And then the realization came to him like a slow blink.
Recorded. He’s definitely being recorded.
He tries to prop himself up to sit, but he can’t get a hold. “Hey… hey wait—” Before he can demand that you stop recording, your lips slide to his collarbone. Soft lips peck him down his slutty bunny costume, sweat and saliva glistening across his abs as you sink further down his body.
Naoya grunted— jaw clenched as his cock twitched beneath the barrier of his shorty-shorts. In one rough move, you yank the cloth down, slipping it past his ankles and discarding it on the floor. His cock stood up on its own, proud in all its engorged, hungry glory.
You kissed it. Once. Twice. Licking one filthy stripe from base to tip. It smelled of salt and sweat. The wet muscle of your tongue dipped into his foreskin, swirling the spit along the rim of his swollen head. Naoya’s breath came in short, frantic gasps. He actually cried out this time—a loud whimper muffled only by biting down on his lip too late.
He fought the rope. A hopeless attempt to cover his face in embarrassment, but it didn’t work. Slick sounds filled the room that made his heart rate spike: squelching licks and soft suction from where you were now taking him deeper into your warm mouth—
“Mmmfffuck… s’too good,” He slurred, chin tipping back as if his soul were being pulled from his body. “Too good… m’gonna cum.”
You giggled and the sweet sound vibrated through his cock, making it bounce against your lips. Naoya kicked his legs against the sheets, not trying to escape, but so he could buck his hips up easier. “D-don’t tease me.”
Like you’d listen to a single thing he said. Your head dipped lower, down to his winking ass hole. The brown bud open and closed, the skin squishing in on itself, clenching around air. “So dry,” You notice, slicking two fingers into your mouth, coating the digits in saliva. “We’ll fix that~”
“W-wait… what’re you— ah! Not there! Not—”
He arched off of the bed. Not a gasp, not a whimper this time. A full-body, spine snapping jolt as your slicked fingers breached his insides. The fingers curled slightly as you cupped and stroked his gummy walls, deep inside. This was forbidden— it felt forbidden. Illegal. To be touched that made him shiver and melt and whimper like a woman.
This is torture. This is heaven.
You scissored the hole open, seeing how far you could stretch him until it burned. He squirmed, and bucked and moaned like a needy man-whore. “Please— ah mmm holy fuck.”
With your middle and ring finger, you're pushed deeper, ignoring his cries. His gummy walls pulsed against the digits as they stroked and cupped the sensitive flesh. His rim sucked you in, closing around the very things that invaded him.
Tears pricked his eyes. One gentle streak fell, leaving a trail on his cheeks that burned from embarrassment.
“You love it in the ass, huh?” You noticed with a sadistic grin, not giving him a single second to reel his thoughts in. “C’mon Naoya~ let everyone know how good it feels.” Your fingers curled, stroking a spot that made his toes curl and vision blur.
“Mmmmph—! Hah aahh.”
You rested your cheek on his inner thigh, fingers still twisting and curling into his virgin ass. “Can’t wait to touch your prostate. I bet you’re a screamer,” You drawled, your free hand slapping his cock.
He yipped. Bucked up toward the sting.
You raised a brow. “Oh? You liked that?” And without warning, your hand smacked him again, and he screams. A full-body quiver surges through him. His thick, burly cock twitching with suppressed release. “S-stop—!” He cries, only to get shut up by another ear-ringing smack.
He jolts. A bit of cum spurt from the slit in thin, white ropes. His sack visibly tightened, clearly trying to hold back the urge to cum from something so unbefitting of a Zenin. “I-I oh my god…” His lip trembled. Eyes wide with fear.
A camera man hovering just over your shoulder, the black lens reflecting back at him the mess he just made of himself. The bunny ears, the ropes, the outfit, the sperm trail across his chest… holy fuck. This is messed up. This is insane. Why is he just taking it? And why does it turn him on?
“Such a messy boy,” You whisper in an innocent, sultry tone. “Let me clean this up.” Your hot breath fanned his cock, and in one swift head-bob, you gulped down the head. The tip hitting the back of your throat.
Naoya was melting beneath your finger tips. His front was slicked with sweat droplets and his tongue was sticking out like a thirsty animal. You slurped him like his cock was candy— warm and wet. The double stimulation drove him mad.
His wrists yanked against the rope, thrashing, still trying to rip himself free. His violent squirming made the headboard thud against the wall. The entire bed rocked. There was no escape. No pause. Just pleasure crashing into him from both ends at once.
His hips kept jerking onto your fingers on instinct. “Yeah that’s it,” You groan. “Move those hips.”
Your fingers, still working deep inside— curled just right, stroking a tender bundle of nerves with every slow twist— and that mouth: hot, wet suction around the swollen head of his cock. That tongue tracing the bulbous veins. Every bob sent shocks through his spine.
His nails dug into his palms. “S-stop! Stop, I’m gonna—” Naoya’s body locks. He can’t hold it back anymore. A guttural cry ripped from his throat. A sound no Zenin heir would be caught making in public.
White-hot pleasure exploded through every nerve as thick ropes of cum surged up and into your waiting mouth without pause— pulse after pulse after pulse— more than he’d ever released before in his life.
Your eyes fluttered back as you swallowed every drop. Without flinching from his size or even pulling away. Not even when another wave hits him and you have to swallow fast to keep up.
It dribbles out of the corners of your mouth. (And at this point, you’re surprised it’s not coming out of your nose.) And still… your fingers never stop moving inside of him, continuously milking that sensitive spot deep within, dragging out every last shuddering release until Naoya is a dumbified piece of meat.
You drag up— his cock popping free of your lips. Still half-hard. Still not satisfied with the treatment.
He isn’t thinking. Just blinking the tears away. The saltiness seeping into his lips, and he licks it away. Wondering how someone of his caliber got into this situation.
This can’t be happening to him. No, this is a sick joke. This is some sort of psychotic revenge-joke. Naoya gulps. He doesn’t know what you plan on doing to him next, but his body is already quivering.
The room is hot, suffocating. And you sit up, stripping your dress off. Yanking it over your head and discarding it on the floor with a thump. Naoya’s eyes trace the curve of you sitting before him. The dim lamplight bouncing off of your skin and coating you in honey-tones.
The dress falls around your ankles, and his breath goes ragged. A lacey black thong and a floral bra to match… he doesn’t say a word. But it’s clear from the look in his eyes that he was exactly where he wanted to be.
You fiddle with your ass, jiggling the underside just to watch him squirm. “Like what you see, Naoya~?”
He nods ever so slightly.
You pull back the elastic of your thong and let it snap against your hips. Naoya watches with lidded eyes. Breathing hard and fast. His eyebrows scrunched cutely while his cock jumps at the sight of your skin.
“You want this pussy?” You ask over your shoulder, bending over to show him the way the cloth dips between your soaked labia. Slick stuck between your thighs, making strings. “Gonna pound me full of semen, Naoya? Until my clit is swollen?”
He chews on his lip… imagining the scenario as if it was playing out before his eyes. But he knew you’d never let him do that. Not on purpose at least.
It made his blood boil, sure, but he was on a high. His head buried too far in the clouds to realize how pissed this actually made him to be teased like this. To be made a mockery of.
He nods again, just as slight as before. It’s a bitter admission, but he needed your hands on him again. Fuck the camera’s. Fuck the ninety thousand people jacking off to him. This isn’t about the money anymore. Touch me, his gaze begged.
Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me.
With a knowing grin, you hook your thumbs and slip the thong low enough that it folds over itself— giving him a perfect view of your sopping pussy. The thong hits the floor.
“Not fair,” Naoya groans, his lip trembling as if he were genuinely about to sob. “Y-you’re being so unfair.”
“So whiney,” you sneer, and then snap your fingers. A member of the crew already prepped, and plops a strap-on into your open palm. The thick, pink, veiny silicon weighs heavy in your hand as you examine it. “Hmm. Think it’ll fit?” You smirk, glancing at Naoya.
He’s already shaking his head. “No… no I-I can’t…”
You’re already wrapping the strap-on around your thighs and clipping the plastic pieces together. Tightening the polyester so the flat plastic base rubbed up against your clit in a way that sent spikes of heat through your whole body.
“It’s this or them,” You sneer.
Naoya has no clue who you’re talking about until his gaze snaps to the camera crew. The three men stood off to the side, stroking their very thick, and very real cocks, that would no doubt be worse than the silicon you had strapped to you.
Hungry eyes picking Naoya apart in his submissive little bunny costume. They pumped and twisted their fists as if they were prepping themselves for a turn.
Maybe they were.
Naoya’s back hits the headboard, still fumbling with the rope around his wrists. “T-they’d rip me open! I-I can’t—!”
“Strap-on it is then ♡ ” you say as you yank him by the ankle and flip him on his stomach. His tied wrists pinned beneath him without room for struggle. You kick apart his thighs with your knees, lining up the silicon to his puckered brown bud.
“Wait–! ”
You slammed your hand down on the back of his neck and let the pink, veiny silicon stretch his virgin ass. Naoya lets out a blood-curdling moan. Back muscles rippled beneath his bunny costume. Shoulders shaking.
You don’t wait for permission. You snap your hips forward and he arches back on instinct. Tears are already dripping from his chin from the tortuous penetration. Even through the silicon, you can feel his insides sucking it in, and gripping it like no tomorrow.
Naoya’s is whimpering. The side of his face is smooshed by the mattress while he drools onto the sheets, and something like … a smile? is pulling at the corner of his lips.
You put weight on his neck and curl your hips, pushing further in until you’ve buried the hilt to his ass. Naoya bites the sheets. “Mmmphh! Holyffuuuuck… lemme g– ah!”
You snap forward, picking up a rhythm as his taut, muscular ass pushes back against you. The bed creaks as you rail him with wet clap after wet clap. “It feels s’good,” he slurs, “R-right there~ hit me ri’there…”
It made Naoya push back harder, chasing the spike of heat he got every time you hit that sensitive bundle of nerves at his prostate.
“Yeah that’s it. Fuck yourself back on it,” you mumble as one hand smacked his ass hard enough to make him moan. A red print blooming at the spot you just hit.
Naoya’s moaning and whimpering and screaming into the mattress. His hips stutter against the strap-on every time you grind yourself against that bean beneath his bladder. His brain is completely melted. Everything that made him a man had dissipated from his identity.
He loves the bunny ears. Loves the way you embarrass him in front of other, more masculine men. And he loves being watched and smacked and tortured and looked at like a slab of fuck-meat that deserves to be stuffed with cock.
Naoya’s tongue lolled out and a delirious smile split across his expression. Every thrust from you was punctuated by a yippy little moan that ripped from his throat, like he was a dog begging for his treat.
Hitting his prostate over and over and over again felt made his vision go hazy. His blood ran hot. It was a never-ending orgasm. A pressure building up in his sack so tight he thought it was piss.
It pressurized in his cock, until you were jamming the dildo so far into his ass he could feel the bulge stretching his tummy. “Ri’ there! Fuuuckk yes yes yes!” He let his voice pitch in ways he never did before. Let the tears build up until they rolled down his reddened face in rivulets.
His cock throbbed, his tip pulsating as it shot a load so thick and hot it burned. White ropes making a mess on the bedsheets. Naoya whimpered like an abused puppy, twerking back on the dildo as he emptied the last of his release.
Your hips pulled out with a satisfied pop. The pink silicon covered in streaks of his translucent liquid.
Naoya’s head spun, laughing gently at his own fucked-up situation, and how much he seemed to be genuinely enjoying it. And how every problem he’s ever had melted away in this room.
You had him right where you wanted him.
The rest of the night you played with his body while he screamed and moaned, accepting whatever punishment or reward you decided to bestow upon him at that moment. He catered himself to your every flight of fancy.
When he screamed too loud to the point of being fuckin-annoying, you shut him up by sitting on his face. He suffocated between your thighs as you rutted your clit up and down his tongue. And with his wrists still tied up, it wasn’t like he could shove you off.
So he had to lay there and take it. Lap up every bit of cum that slipped from your pussy lips. Your sweet scent intoxicates him to the point of insanity. That tongue darting in and out. Switching between his lips closing around your clit and suckling you or kitten-licks that left your thighs quivering.
After you’d came— twice, maybe three times, it was a blur— you flopped down on the mattress next to him and he caught his breath. Half of his face slicked with your cum as he stared at the ceiling.
You propped your head up on one elbow, genuinely considering giving him a break. Then your eyes trailed lower to the hard-on he sported.
Holy… fuck.
He already came twice in one hour, and he’s ready to go again? A sadistic smile spread across your face, and you beckoned your camera crew over to the bed.
Finally ready to get their fill of the meal they’d been eyeing, the three men crowded around Naoya. One of them stripped off their shirt. Another unbuckled the belt. The other was lining his cock at Naoya’s ass hole.
You sauntered to the bathroom with shaky legs, letting your wonderful camera crew have their fun as you cleaned up, caught your breath a little, and maybe ordered some food. Because with three big guys like them you knew they’d need the extra time to have their fill of Naoya.
✦ · · · ⚜ · · · ✦
Naoya’s clothes were ripped apart within minutes. His thigh-high socks in tatters around his legs. His crop-top split open at the chest. His bunny ears tossed aside.
He sobbed into the sheets, genuinely overstimulated, and unable to stop the addiction anyways. One of them rutted into him from behind. The other two hover their dicks over Naoya’s lips while he’s forced to stuff two cocks into his cheeks like a goddamn chipmunk. He couldn’t fit more than their tips, especially with the pounding he was getting from behind.
He was flipped and twisted into a pretzel. Thrown around like a ragdoll. His knees hiked over his shoulders into a mating press as each burly man released load after load after load into his virgin ass.
The stretch burned at first but as they railed him relentlessly, the sting became a part of the thrill. And the men smelled of tobacco and old leather. They weren’t shaved and unmarred, like Naoya was. Their forearms bore scars and hair.
Hair all across their chest, and arms, and legs. A happy trail leading all the way down to the bush at the base of their cocks.
Naoya’s ass slapped wetly as he bounced on one dick. It slid in and out in a steady rhythm that he finally controlled. The man laid under him with their hands behind their head, watching Naoya’s cock flop up and down with every rut.
A different man stood on the bed, feet straddling his friends shoulders, and slapped the thick head against Naoya’s lips. His throat was hoarse. Aching. Abused. But the man yanked Naoya by the hair anyway and pried his jaw open until a visible lump formed down Naoya’s throat.
The third one… Oh god, where was the third?
Naoya gurgled against the cock, choking gently as he failed to swallow all of it. That’s when he felt something wet and heavy slap his ass from behind. They lifted his hips with a grip strength Naoya could never hope to achieve, and in one swift movement, a different cock was inside him.
They kept trading like that until both men grew impatient and tried shoving two in at once.
Naoya shook his head, tears streaming down in violent streaks. One of the men pinned him to the bed so he wouldn’t squirm, while the other two were licking their lips as they lathered lube all over Naoya’s body.
Covering him in a slick that coated him in a sheen that made him look more edible than before. At some point, Naoya stopped fighting. Two men picked him up, one arm spreading apart one of his thighs, and a different arm spreading the other leg.
Naoya was limp. Gone. A brainless piece of meat that couldn’t think about anything other than the next spike of pleasure. His arms are lazily wrapped around the shoulders of both men on either side of him, trusting that they don’t just drop him as he’s hoisted in the air like this.
They line themselves up, flicking the tip against the rim experimentally, and Naoya shivers. Knowing the stretch is going to burn like hell.
But they didn’t give a damn about a misogynist who would’ve done the same to a woman, given the chance. He felt both engorged cocks split him open at his gaping ass, and he bit down on his lip.
It was a sensation that made him feel so near ecstasy he had to be dead.
They thrusted up at a synchronized pace— rubbing against each other with a friction that only added to the heat.
Naoya was in heaven. This had to be heaven.
He didn’t even notice his own climax until it shot across the floor. And the two men followed suit, slamming Naoya’s hips down on two cocks that squished his prostate so hard another wave washed over him and he was gone.
Forced on his knees. Slapped until his skin was beaten red. Bound by ropes at his wrists and ankles. Then a blindfold. Sometimes they’d free him from the ropes, other times they added more. He was hoisted in the air or fucked on the floor like a primate.
Semen streaks decorated the floor. And it leaked from Naoya’s ass in glops that he couldn’t stop pushing out instinctively. It dripped out between his quivering thighs and spilled wherever he sat. When he was moved around, he groaned while it swished around in his tummy.
Eventually… The three men had their fill. And each cock was flaccid. They didn’t give him so much as a goodbye as they zipped up their pants, turned off the recording equipment, and shut the lights off. Leaving him in a damp, dark room.
Naoya watched as they filed out through the doorway. He wanted to reach out one hand, beg them not to go, but his limbs are numb.
From your spot in the editing studio, two desktop screens were split across four different cameras. And when your men file out, you glance down at the time-stamp of the footage. Three hours of raw footage— something the entire world would rave about. Everyone would know Naoya Zenin as your sex slave.
You smiled, and clicked upload.
a/n: This might be buns but at least I didn’t use AI. Guys not even kidding I saw a Naoya x Nanami fic on AO3 and that shit was so blatantly written by AI. It was genuinely so upsetting but it reminded me of my duties as a writer. Stay strong guys and FUCK “creative” AI.
Podcaster Naoya becomes a submissive porn star ⋆ 6000 w.
cw: non-con, naoya pegged, naoya anal, dumbification, mind break, female dom obvi, this smut is not for the faint of heart, and I decided to add a foursome male gang bang cuz why not.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
The porn studio is a room in your complex, down in the basement where every filthy video had been shot and edited. As you enter, tech men are setting up the camera’s, busying themselves with key lighting and props. The only thing out of place are the wires that snake along the floor. But other than that one messy detail, it’s clear this studio is ruled with an iron fist.
The cameras glitter. Sleek, black lenses glint from the soft lamp light on the nightstand. Your tech men hoisted fixtures into the air, picked up bags of hundred-pound equipment like it was no big deal. All without a single word— just the knowledge to get the job done.
Naoya stepped in, the air shifted with a heat, the familiar smell of sex and rubber. He took a gander at the setup. And despite his split lip and the blood stains on his shirt, he still surveyed the room with an air of Zenin authority.
One of the tech men sped past him with a sack thrown over his shoulder— bigger, larger, and taller than Naoya could ever hope to achieve. He clicked his tongue as he scanned the room from corner to corner, itching to find a weakness to pick at.
He glanced at the wires on the floor.
“Rudimentary,” he shrugged. “Would do better if your boss cleaned those up.”
You squinted at him. “I’m the boss.”
“Oh.” He grinned. “No wonder this place looks like a circus act.”
He seemed to have forgotten who even picked him up out of the party in a lambo. Who’s letting him collab with you, and who’s willing to even share a percentage of the money you’ll make from this video, which you know damn well is going to be a hit.
You bit down on your lip, because you knew that no matter what happened tonight, Naoya wouldn’t be the one in control, and he’s going to realize this sooner or later. With a snap of your fingers, one of your lovely gently-giants hands Naoya a bag of clothes.
He took it gingerly, as if he were holding a bomb.
Peeked inside. A disbelieving chuckle bubbled in his chest. “The fuck is…” His voice trailed off.
Oh, he couldn’t wait to see you in this. A bunny outfit, with cute little bows, bunny ears, and a butt plug bunny tail to top it off. He fished out the bunny ears and held it up, picturing every dirty curve of your body that he’d get to ruin.
You clicked your tongue as he held it up to you. The corner of your lip curling up as you stepped closer to him, your heels clacking against the hard wood. “It’s for you,” you whisper.
Naoya’s smile drops. “Excuse me?”
You fiddle with your hands behind your back, feigning innocence. “You want your old house back, right? Your expensive furniture and the maids?”
He looks down at the bag in his hand, irritation flooding his cheeks. “This is… for me?” He blinks, unable to comprehend plain english.
“That’s right~” You say in a sing-song.
Your tech men are all but situated. A majority of them filed out of the doorway once everything had been checked and placed— three of them stayed behind for film purposes. They trained the cameras on the stand-off between you and Naoya.
The reality of Naoya’s situation began to dawn on him by the second as he saw that red blinking light by the lens. “H-he’s recording! We haven’t started! Why is he—?”
“Don’t mind them,” You snap with a placid grin. “They’re just testing.”
He doesn’t seem to believe you as his eyes dart back and forth from you to a different camera positioned around the room. Panic makes his rationality jumble. “You're a female,” He spat, confused as all hell. “You’re supposed to wear something like this. I never agreed to…” His mouth struggled to form the words. “I won’t…”
You leaned closer, and he could practically taste the mint gum on your tongue. You had this cruel delight in your gaze that sent shivers up his spine.
You pinch a tuft of his hair at the scalp, gently. “And your roots are coming in, Naoya. Without me, you’ll just become another black-haired nobody.” He recoils like you burnt him— slapping your hand away.
No. Not his roots.
“Don’t—”
“People know who you are, Naoya. Those haters you’ve relied on for a decade? If they see you on the street they’ll do worse than rob you. Or rough you up. They’ll do to you what they do to women they hate.”
His back hit the wall, sputtering over his own words. Every comeback or insult died in his throat.
You slam your heel between his thighs, near stabbing his dick. Naoya glares down at you, biting back every new wave of fear that crashes into him.
Leaning close, your breath coasts along his skin. “All it takes is a few photos wearing those clothes, and you can hire body guards. Get a nice apartment. Get your roots redone. You won’t have to worry about living on the street, or the filthy people who’d do anything to get their hands on a Zenin.”
Naoya’s breath catches. “That’s not… That isn’t f—”
“Fair?”
He flinched, and a giggle slipped through your sweet lips.
You pulled back, eyes trailing down his frame like you were picking your next snack. Only to stop short at his jeans, and the unmistakable bulge hugging his thigh.
You turn your back to him and saunter to the bathroom, opening the door for him like a princess. “Now… get dressed,” you commanded, not with aggression, but with a dangerously cordial tone that could flip on a dime.
Naoya clutched the bag in his fist, bunny ears and all.
A few pictures.
That’s all this is.
Even if this wasn’t the kind of porn studio he thought it’d be, he can still earn money from this.
His puke-green eyes darted to the floor and sped past you as you held the door open. “Close it,” he said through gritted teeth, not a demand, but with the rough edges of a begging man.
That’s what you like to hear.
You shut the door with a gentle click.
✦ · · · ⚜ · · · ✦
The door unlocked and cracked open just a smidge, a streak of light from the harsh bathroom overhead casted itself into the dark bedroom.
You lounged at the foot of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, bouncing your knee with a languid impatience. “C’mon Naoya,” You beckoned as he shuffled with the door, as if deciding whether or not to step out.
His tone laced itself in venom. “You’re insane— a fuckin’ pervert…”
You snapped to your feet, near prying the door open yourself. “Show me before I throw you out of the goddamn studio.”
He hissed something under his breath and swung the door open.
Naoya revealed himself, both hands covering his bulge, and he didn’t even have the guts to look at you. His gaze remained glued to the floor while he ground his teeth together. You squeezed your thighs together, a heartbeat already throbbing between your legs.
White socks hugged him around his muscle-clad thighs, the very fabric stretched to the brink. And as your eyes trailed up, a baby pink thong curved with his v-line, disappearing into the white shorty-shorts that bunched up around his cock.
His muscles tensed as you raked over his figure, but Naoya bit down on his tongue, knowing he had nothing to retort— no power, no money. His name reduced to rubble at his feet, and his social media presence made a laughing stock around the globe.
Maybe here, with this, he could start again— even if it’s small. And when all is said and done, he’d never speak to you again.
A few pictures, he told himself again. That’s it.
You clicked your tongue, twirling your finger in the air. “Take a turn for me.” Naoya’s face spiked with redness. His nose scrunched like the angry-bunny he embodied.
He turned around slowly, still cupping himself (as if you wouldn’t see it later.)
The crop top was white, with baby pink accents. Sleeveless and skin-tight, it hugged him across the chest, accentuating every curve of hardened muscle that made him a man. The top stretched across his fat pecs— his nipples so erect and prominent beneath the top you’d think he could hold milk.
Fluff decorated the turtleneck, making him appear more cute than he already is with his abashed expression. And on his head— bunny ears. As white as a jack rabbit with baby pink bows adorning the headband.
His thighs, his waistband, his collar… your insides squeezed around air, begging for something to latch onto. But your own pleasure would have to wait. This isn’t about you…
Atleast, not entirely.
Naoya looks over his shoulder, “Are you taking pictures yet?” He says with a shy rumble in his throat.
“Getting there, princess, just stay like that,” You’re already tapping away at your phone. Not to pull up the camera, but to check the livestream.
It’s perfect.
A camera panning at Naoya in this outfit from head-to-toe, zooming in at his ass. Switching lenses when a different angle was necessary— the kinds of things that made a crew all the more worth it.
Naoya can’t stop looking at the big cameras nestled in the corner of the room. “Are those on?” He grumbles, and you can’t see his face but his ears are bright red.
“Still just testing, Naoya, don’t worry. Now be a good boy for me and turn around.”
He bites down on his lip, clearly not believing you but turning around anyways, his blonde bangs covering his eyes. Both hands still splayed out in front of his crotch, covering the goodies.
You’re absolutely giddy.
The angle switches to your phone camera and you kneel to capture the deliciously embarrassed expression on his pretty little face. “Say you’re a good boy,” You coo.
Naoya’s head snaps up. “I-I am not saying that!”
Your gentle smile drops into a warning.
A chill goes up Naoya’s spine, and he’s reminded of everything else he has to lose. “I-I’m a good boy,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Louder.”
“I’m a good boy!” He shouts through trembling vocal chords.
“Put your hands on your head.”
He raises his arms as if he’s fighting some invisible entity. And when he presses his hands against the back of his head, showing off his crotch, you know damn well that this is going to make it in the final cut of the video.
Naoya’s thighs visibly press together while he places his hands against the back of his head. The head of his engorged cock is peeking out of the shorts, pressed tight against his thigh, dripping glop after glop of pre like a needy bitch.
He’s glaring at the floor like he could burn a hole straight through it. Like he could practically hear the future commenters watching him be stripped of everything that— he believed— ever made him a man.
You stand up from your crouched position, and scroll on your phone to review the footage.
But to Naoya, you’re glued to your fucking phone. As if him in a bunny costume isn’t the most pressing matter at hand. Why did that aggravate him so much? Why is it worse to be ignored by you?
This feeling… It's disgusting.
It’s sick.
He’s being put on display like some… like some female.
And worst of all— he’s hard.
No— no not because of this. Not because of the outfit. Not because he’s being humiliated by a female, whose power is taboo and forbidden. Not because three big, burly men are staring at him. And especially not because he’s into that.
You’re the one in the porn industry, where all females naturally belong, because they’re nothing more than baby makers. You’re the one living out a non-feminist life! You’re the one who caved from their own beliefs— not Naoya.
He opened his mouth to snap at you— to make these sentiments known— but your eyes darted to his. “Get on the bed,” You demanded, and everything that made him better than you dissipated from his head in an instant. Something in his chest compelled him to sulk over.
In two shy strides, he climbed onto the bed, finding his spot on the mattress like an embarrassed puppy.
Naoya didn’t realize what was happening until two large hands— from two large bodies on either side of the bed— held down his arms. He squirmed, but their weight pressed down on him hard enough he thought he’d melt into the sheets.
Something tightened around his wrist, tugging him closer. Rope.
“Wait—!” He panicked.
Then the other, and his wrists were knotted together in an instant. He yanked. Squirmed. Kicked. “Y-you said it was pictures!” He cried out.
You climbed onto the bed, the sheets dipping to your weight as you dragged your knee up against his ballsack. Massaging the sensitive muscle with your thigh. “I lied,” you whisper, hot breath ghosting over his skin.
It sends a sick thrill straight into his cock. He twitched against his own thigh; pulsating desperately, begging to be freed from his bunny-shorts.
“But I d-didn’t…”
“Ah ah ah,” You click your tongue. “You came into my studio thinking that you were going to put a baby in me? That you were going to make me choke and scream and cry… is that right?”
Panic and bold-faced lies reared its ugly head. “N-no that’s not what I—” The bed creaked from his struggle as he tried, and failed, to escape the ropes. You pressed your thigh against his crotch harder. Naoya arched, an embarrassingly cute moan slipped past his lips.
Naoya couldn’t think. Couldn’t even bring himself to tell you to stop.
“Oh my fuuuuck,” He groaned, a wave of pleasure crashed into him. The moment another moan threatened to slip, he bit down on his lip, and forced the sound to die in his chest.
He’s never heard himself make such vulnerable sounds before. It tasted weird on his tongue. It sounded disgusting when he released it in the air.
You squeeze your thigh against that lump between his legs like playdough— massaging him in circles that made his eyes flutter back. “So sensitive,” you purr. “Like your body was made to be touched like this.”
You place gentle kisses up his neck, and along his skin, until you reach his lips and experimentally go for a kiss. You slip in tongue, letting him choose whether or not he wants to give in. The wet, warm muscle connects with his and your lips connect. You slip in, tasting the tinge of blood from the thrashing earlier that night. You lap it up anyways.
Naoya’s head is reeling. He’s rutting his sack up against your thigh, arching and groaning helplessly at every caress. And your tongue makes his head spin.
He can’t control it— any of it. Not you. Not himself. Not the way his tongue finds yours and slips against you so sloppily your trading glops of saliva. But he doesn’t care. You taste like cinnamon and old spice, a luxurious aroma he hasn’t experienced in months.
You pull away, satisfied with his complacency. “You’re still getting a cut from this, Naoya. Millions.” You remind him. “Just be a good little boy for me— just for tonight.”
His chin tips back, now lost without your mouth to guide him. Naoya’s head sways from one side to the other in the kind of horny daze he’s never felt before.
His gaze goes dark as he catches the glint of the camera. It zooms in carefully. The man behind the lens lingering in areas no straight man should. A cold shiver ran down Naoya’s spine, all the way to his groin, where his ballsack tightened in response to this weird, sick thrill that came from the eyes.
And then the realization came to him like a slow blink.
Recorded. He’s definitely being recorded.
He tries to prop himself up to sit, but he can’t get a hold. “Hey… hey wait—” Before he can demand that you stop recording, your lips slide to his collarbone. Soft lips peck him down his slutty bunny costume, sweat and saliva glistening across his abs as you sink further down his body.
Naoya grunted— jaw clenched as his cock twitched beneath the barrier of his shorty-shorts. In one rough move, you yank the cloth down, slipping it past his ankles and discarding it on the floor. His cock stood up on its own, proud in all its engorged, hungry glory.
You kissed it. Once. Twice. Licking one filthy stripe from base to tip. It smelled of salt and sweat. The wet muscle of your tongue dipped into his foreskin, swirling the spit along the rim of his swollen head. Naoya’s breath came in short, frantic gasps. He actually cried out this time—a loud whimper muffled only by biting down on his lip too late.
He fought the rope. A hopeless attempt to cover his face in embarrassment, but it didn’t work. Slick sounds filled the room that made his heart rate spike: squelching licks and soft suction from where you were now taking him deeper into your warm mouth—
“Mmmfffuck… s’too good,” He slurred, chin tipping back as if his soul were being pulled from his body. “Too good… m’gonna cum.”
You giggled and the sweet sound vibrated through his cock, making it bounce against your lips. Naoya kicked his legs against the sheets, not trying to escape, but so he could buck his hips up easier. “D-don’t tease me.”
Like you’d listen to a single thing he said. Your head dipped lower, down to his winking ass hole. The brown bud open and closed, the skin squishing in on itself, clenching around air. “So dry,” You notice, slicking two fingers into your mouth, coating the digits in saliva. “We’ll fix that~”
“W-wait… what’re you— ah! Not there! Not—”
He arched off of the bed. Not a gasp, not a whimper this time. A full-body, spine snapping jolt as your slicked fingers breached his insides. The fingers curled slightly as you cupped and stroked his gummy walls, deep inside. This was forbidden— it felt forbidden. Illegal. To be touched that made him shiver and melt and whimper like a woman.
This is torture. This is heaven.
You scissored the hole open, seeing how far you could stretch him until it burned. He squirmed, and bucked and moaned like a needy man-whore. “Please— ah mmm holy fuck.”
With your middle and ring finger, you're pushed deeper, ignoring his cries. His gummy walls pulsed against the digits as they stroked and cupped the sensitive flesh. His rim sucked you in, closing around the very things that invaded him.
Tears pricked his eyes. One gentle streak fell, leaving a trail on his cheeks that burned from embarrassment.
“You love it in the ass, huh?” You noticed with a sadistic grin, not giving him a single second to reel his thoughts in. “C’mon Naoya~ let everyone know how good it feels.” Your fingers curled, stroking a spot that made his toes curl and vision blur.
“Mmmmph—! Hah aahh.”
You rested your cheek on his inner thigh, fingers still twisting and curling into his virgin ass. “Can’t wait to touch your prostate. I bet you’re a screamer,” You drawled, your free hand slapping his cock.
He yipped. Bucked up toward the sting.
You raised a brow. “Oh? You liked that?” And without warning, your hand smacked him again, and he screams. A full-body quiver surges through him. His thick, burly cock twitching with suppressed release. “S-stop—!” He cries, only to get shut up by another ear-ringing smack.
He jolts. A bit of cum spurt from the slit in thin, white ropes. His sack visibly tightened, clearly trying to hold back the urge to cum from something so unbefitting of a Zenin. “I-I oh my god…” His lip trembled. Eyes wide with fear.
A camera man hovering just over your shoulder, the black lens reflecting back at him the mess he just made of himself. The bunny ears, the ropes, the outfit, the sperm trail across his chest… holy fuck. This is messed up. This is insane. Why is he just taking it? And why does it turn him on?
“Such a messy boy,” You whisper in an innocent, sultry tone. “Let me clean this up.” Your hot breath fanned his cock, and in one swift head-bob, you gulped down the head. The tip hitting the back of your throat.
Naoya was melting beneath your finger tips. His front was slicked with sweat droplets and his tongue was sticking out like a thirsty animal. You slurped him like his cock was candy— warm and wet. The double stimulation drove him mad.
His wrists yanked against the rope, thrashing, still trying to rip himself free. His violent squirming made the headboard thud against the wall. The entire bed rocked. There was no escape. No pause. Just pleasure crashing into him from both ends at once.
His hips kept jerking onto your fingers on instinct. “Yeah that’s it,” You groan. “Move those hips.”
Your fingers, still working deep inside— curled just right, stroking a tender bundle of nerves with every slow twist— and that mouth: hot, wet suction around the swollen head of his cock. That tongue tracing the bulbous veins. Every bob sent shocks through his spine.
His nails dug into his palms. “S-stop! Stop, I’m gonna—” Naoya’s body locks. He can’t hold it back anymore. A guttural cry ripped from his throat. A sound no Zenin heir would be caught making in public.
White-hot pleasure exploded through every nerve as thick ropes of cum surged up and into your waiting mouth without pause— pulse after pulse after pulse— more than he’d ever released before in his life.
Your eyes fluttered back as you swallowed every drop. Without flinching from his size or even pulling away. Not even when another wave hits him and you have to swallow fast to keep up.
It dribbles out of the corners of your mouth. (And at this point, you’re surprised it’s not coming out of your nose.) And still… your fingers never stop moving inside of him, continuously milking that sensitive spot deep within, dragging out every last shuddering release until Naoya is a dumbified piece of meat.
You drag up— his cock popping free of your lips. Still half-hard. Still not satisfied with the treatment.
He isn’t thinking. Just blinking the tears away. The saltiness seeping into his lips, and he licks it away. Wondering how someone of his caliber got into this situation.
This can’t be happening to him. No, this is a sick joke. This is some sort of psychotic revenge-joke. Naoya gulps. He doesn’t know what you plan on doing to him next, but his body is already quivering.
The room is hot, suffocating. And you sit up, stripping your dress off. Yanking it over your head and discarding it on the floor with a thump. Naoya’s eyes trace the curve of you sitting before him. The dim lamplight bouncing off of your skin and coating you in honey-tones.
The dress falls around your ankles, and his breath goes ragged. A lacey black thong and a floral bra to match… he doesn’t say a word. But it’s clear from the look in his eyes that he was exactly where he wanted to be.
You fiddle with your ass, jiggling the underside just to watch him squirm. “Like what you see, Naoya~?”
He nods ever so slightly.
You pull back the elastic of your thong and let it snap against your hips. Naoya watches with lidded eyes. Breathing hard and fast. His eyebrows scrunched cutely while his cock jumps at the sight of your skin.
“You want this pussy?” You ask over your shoulder, bending over to show him the way the cloth dips between your soaked labia. Slick stuck between your thighs, making strings. “Gonna pound me full of semen, Naoya? Until my clit is swollen?”
He chews on his lip… imagining the scenario as if it was playing out before his eyes. But he knew you’d never let him do that. Not on purpose at least.
It made his blood boil, sure, but he was on a high. His head buried too far in the clouds to realize how pissed this actually made him to be teased like this. To be made a mockery of.
He nods again, just as slight as before. It’s a bitter admission, but he needed your hands on him again. Fuck the camera’s. Fuck the ninety thousand people jacking off to him. This isn’t about the money anymore. Touch me, his gaze begged.
Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me.
With a knowing grin, you hook your thumbs and slip the thong low enough that it folds over itself— giving him a perfect view of your sopping pussy. The thong hits the floor.
“Not fair,” Naoya groans, his lip trembling as if he were genuinely about to sob. “Y-you’re being so unfair.”
“So whiney,” you sneer, and then snap your fingers. A member of the crew already prepped, and plops a strap-on into your open palm. The thick, pink, veiny silicon weighs heavy in your hand as you examine it. “Hmm. Think it’ll fit?” You smirk, glancing at Naoya.
He’s already shaking his head. “No… no I-I can’t…”
You’re already wrapping the strap-on around your thighs and clipping the plastic pieces together. Tightening the polyester so the flat plastic base rubbed up against your clit in a way that sent spikes of heat through your whole body.
“It’s this or them,” You sneer.
Naoya has no clue who you’re talking about until his gaze snaps to the camera crew. The three men stood off to the side, stroking their very thick, and very real cocks, that would no doubt be worse than the silicon you had strapped to you.
Hungry eyes picking Naoya apart in his submissive little bunny costume. They pumped and twisted their fists as if they were prepping themselves for a turn.
Maybe they were.
Naoya’s back hits the headboard, still fumbling with the rope around his wrists. “T-they’d rip me open! I-I can’t—!”
“Strap-on it is then ♡ ” you say as you yank him by the ankle and flip him on his stomach. His tied wrists pinned beneath him without room for struggle. You kick apart his thighs with your knees, lining up the silicon to his puckered brown bud.
“Wait–! ”
You slammed your hand down on the back of his neck and let the pink, veiny silicon stretch his virgin ass. Naoya lets out a blood-curdling moan. Back muscles rippled beneath his bunny costume. Shoulders shaking.
You don’t wait for permission. You snap your hips forward and he arches back on instinct. Tears are already dripping from his chin from the tortuous penetration. Even through the silicon, you can feel his insides sucking it in, and gripping it like no tomorrow.
Naoya’s is whimpering. The side of his face is smooshed by the mattress while he drools onto the sheets, and something like … a smile? is pulling at the corner of his lips.
You put weight on his neck and curl your hips, pushing further in until you’ve buried the hilt to his ass. Naoya bites the sheets. “Mmmphh! Holyffuuuuck… lemme g– ah!”
You snap forward, picking up a rhythm as his taut, muscular ass pushes back against you. The bed creaks as you rail him with wet clap after wet clap. “It feels s’good,” he slurs, “R-right there~ hit me ri’there…”
It made Naoya push back harder, chasing the spike of heat he got every time you hit that sensitive bundle of nerves at his prostate.
“Yeah that’s it. Fuck yourself back on it,” you mumble as one hand smacked his ass hard enough to make him moan. A red print blooming at the spot you just hit.
Naoya’s moaning and whimpering and screaming into the mattress. His hips stutter against the strap-on every time you grind yourself against that bean beneath his bladder. His brain is completely melted. Everything that made him a man had dissipated from his identity.
He loves the bunny ears. Loves the way you embarrass him in front of other, more masculine men. And he loves being watched and smacked and tortured and looked at like a slab of fuck-meat that deserves to be stuffed with cock.
Naoya’s tongue lolled out and a delirious smile split across his expression. Every thrust from you was punctuated by a yippy little moan that ripped from his throat, like he was a dog begging for his treat.
Hitting his prostate over and over and over again felt made his vision go hazy. His blood ran hot. It was a never-ending orgasm. A pressure building up in his sack so tight he thought it was piss.
It pressurized in his cock, until you were jamming the dildo so far into his ass he could feel the bulge stretching his tummy. “Ri’ there! Fuuuckk yes yes yes!” He let his voice pitch in ways he never did before. Let the tears build up until they rolled down his reddened face in rivulets.
His cock throbbed, his tip pulsating as it shot a load so thick and hot it burned. White ropes making a mess on the bedsheets. Naoya whimpered like an abused puppy, twerking back on the dildo as he emptied the last of his release.
Your hips pulled out with a satisfied pop. The pink silicon covered in streaks of his translucent liquid.
Naoya’s head spun, laughing gently at his own fucked-up situation, and how much he seemed to be genuinely enjoying it. And how every problem he’s ever had melted away in this room.
You had him right where you wanted him.
The rest of the night you played with his body while he screamed and moaned, accepting whatever punishment or reward you decided to bestow upon him at that moment. He catered himself to your every flight of fancy.
When he screamed too loud to the point of being fuckin-annoying, you shut him up by sitting on his face. He suffocated between your thighs as you rutted your clit up and down his tongue. And with his wrists still tied up, it wasn’t like he could shove you off.
So he had to lay there and take it. Lap up every bit of cum that slipped from your pussy lips. Your sweet scent intoxicates him to the point of insanity. That tongue darting in and out. Switching between his lips closing around your clit and suckling you or kitten-licks that left your thighs quivering.
After you’d came— twice, maybe three times, it was a blur— you flopped down on the mattress next to him and he caught his breath. Half of his face slicked with your cum as he stared at the ceiling.
You propped your head up on one elbow, genuinely considering giving him a break. Then your eyes trailed lower to the hard-on he sported.
Holy… fuck.
He already came twice in one hour, and he’s ready to go again? A sadistic smile spread across your face, and you beckoned your camera crew over to the bed.
Finally ready to get their fill of the meal they’d been eyeing, the three men crowded around Naoya. One of them stripped off their shirt. Another unbuckled the belt. The other was lining his cock at Naoya’s ass hole.
You sauntered to the bathroom with shaky legs, letting your wonderful camera crew have their fun as you cleaned up, caught your breath a little, and maybe ordered some food. Because with three big guys like them you knew they’d need the extra time to have their fill of Naoya.
✦ · · · ⚜ · · · ✦
Naoya’s clothes were ripped apart within minutes. His thigh-high socks in tatters around his legs. His crop-top split open at the chest. His bunny ears tossed aside.
He sobbed into the sheets, genuinely overstimulated, and unable to stop the addiction anyways. One of them rutted into him from behind. The other two hover their dicks over Naoya’s lips while he’s forced to stuff two cocks into his cheeks like a goddamn chipmunk. He couldn’t fit more than their tips, especially with the pounding he was getting from behind.
He was flipped and twisted into a pretzel. Thrown around like a ragdoll. His knees hiked over his shoulders into a mating press as each burly man released load after load after load into his virgin ass.
The stretch burned at first but as they railed him relentlessly, the sting became a part of the thrill. And the men smelled of tobacco and old leather. They weren’t shaved and unmarred, like Naoya was. Their forearms bore scars and hair.
Hair all across their chest, and arms, and legs. A happy trail leading all the way down to the bush at the base of their cocks.
Naoya’s ass slapped wetly as he bounced on one dick. It slid in and out in a steady rhythm that he finally controlled. The man laid under him with their hands behind their head, watching Naoya’s cock flop up and down with every rut.
A different man stood on the bed, feet straddling his friends shoulders, and slapped the thick head against Naoya’s lips. His throat was hoarse. Aching. Abused. But the man yanked Naoya by the hair anyway and pried his jaw open until a visible lump formed down Naoya’s throat.
The third one… Oh god, where was the third?
Naoya gurgled against the cock, choking gently as he failed to swallow all of it. That’s when he felt something wet and heavy slap his ass from behind. They lifted his hips with a grip strength Naoya could never hope to achieve, and in one swift movement, a different cock was inside him.
They kept trading like that until both men grew impatient and tried shoving two in at once.
Naoya shook his head, tears streaming down in violent streaks. One of the men pinned him to the bed so he wouldn’t squirm, while the other two were licking their lips as they lathered lube all over Naoya’s body.
Covering him in a slick that coated him in a sheen that made him look more edible than before. At some point, Naoya stopped fighting. Two men picked him up, one arm spreading apart one of his thighs, and a different arm spreading the other leg.
Naoya was limp. Gone. A brainless piece of meat that couldn’t think about anything other than the next spike of pleasure. His arms are lazily wrapped around the shoulders of both men on either side of him, trusting that they don’t just drop him as he’s hoisted in the air like this.
They line themselves up, flicking the tip against the rim experimentally, and Naoya shivers. Knowing the stretch is going to burn like hell.
But they didn’t give a damn about a misogynist who would’ve done the same to a woman, given the chance. He felt both engorged cocks split him open at his gaping ass, and he bit down on his lip.
It was a sensation that made him feel so near ecstasy he had to be dead.
They thrusted up at a synchronized pace— rubbing against each other with a friction that only added to the heat.
Naoya was in heaven. This had to be heaven.
He didn’t even notice his own climax until it shot across the floor. And the two men followed suit, slamming Naoya’s hips down on two cocks that squished his prostate so hard another wave washed over him and he was gone.
Forced on his knees. Slapped until his skin was beaten red. Bound by ropes at his wrists and ankles. Then a blindfold. Sometimes they’d free him from the ropes, other times they added more. He was hoisted in the air or fucked on the floor like a primate.
Semen streaks decorated the floor. And it leaked from Naoya’s ass in glops that he couldn’t stop pushing out instinctively. It dripped out between his quivering thighs and spilled wherever he sat. When he was moved around, he groaned while it swished around in his tummy.
Eventually… The three men had their fill. And each cock was flaccid. They didn’t give him so much as a goodbye as they zipped up their pants, turned off the recording equipment, and shut the lights off. Leaving him in a damp, dark room.
Naoya watched as they filed out through the doorway. He wanted to reach out one hand, beg them not to go, but his limbs are numb.
From your spot in the editing studio, two desktop screens were split across four different cameras. And when your men file out, you glance down at the time-stamp of the footage. Three hours of raw footage— something the entire world would rave about. Everyone would know Naoya Zenin as your sex slave.
You smiled, and clicked upload.
a/n: This might be buns but at least I didn’t use AI. Guys not even kidding I saw a Naoya x Nanami fic on AO3 and that shit was so blatantly written by AI. It was genuinely so upsetting but it reminded me of my duties as a writer. Stay strong guys and FUCK “creative” AI.
cw: dirty thoughts about naoya, dildo, female dom, naoya getting it in the back
I need to see Naoya get fucked in the ass guys.
Just imagine his thick, muscular thighs trembling while you hover the strap-on over his puckered hole, and he looks over his shoulder with rage and fear in his eyes. Teary and glassy. Poor baby is scared and weak. He’s like: “Wait–!” and then you just slam your hand down on the back of his neck and let the black, veiny silicon stretch him out.
He lets out a blood-curdling groan. Back muscles rippling. Shoulders shaking. You snap your hips forward and he arches against you on instinct, like it was his lifes-purpose to be fucked in the ass. Little tears start falling down his face, and he’d be all like: “Y-you’re hitting m-my prostate! Stupid f-fucking woman!”
And you’d be like: “Shut the fuck up. Take what I give you.” And just bury yourself to the hilt in his ass while his cheeks squeeze around you as if trying to trap the strap-on inside of him.
Omg he’d grab at the sheets and weakly try to crawl away because it feels too good and you’d yank a wrist behind his back and be like: “Keep fighting Naoya. Makes me want to fuck you harder.”
And then he’d give up and just melt into the pleasure and he’d be sobbing from the shame he felt. And then he’d bust his nut all over the sheets, dick twitching from the force of his own nut. And he’d be an embarrassed, shameful mess because he came and you didn’t even touch his dick.
more art because I'm still obsessed with JJK 😳MAKI IS SO FUCKIN HOOOOOOOTTTT. Is it because she's just a woman version of Toji?
...yes.
BUT GOD ARE THEY BOTH HOOOOOOTTTTT FAAHHHH. I'm convinced I'm just into characters who'd be bad for me because wdym I actually love Naoya... likeeeee tfffff
Also ignore the fact that Toji looks bored asf cuz I was struggling with his face for legit hours and just gave up
I don’t see enough of this anywhere, so may I politely request Naoya x femboy!reader, where either reader tricked his way into marriage with Naoya and it’s revealed that he’s a guy (which Naoya is actually happy about), or where Naoya hand-picks reader specifically to be his “wife” so that he 1: doesn’t have to marry a woman and 2: can keep the fact that he’s marrying a man under wraps due to his spouse’s femininity? Maybe either in hc form or as a wedding-night smut scene?
Sorry if it’s a bit much to ask, I’m starving feeding off like 3 short one-shots here. You don’t have to write it, but thank you so much in advance if you do!
Naoya married... a femboy?!
cw : naoya x femboy!reader, dom-naoya, head-pushing, anal, degradation, f-slur used as a derogatory nickname, use of ‘daddy,’ what’s it called when they become kinda brainless?
The moment the hotel door clicked shut, Naoya was already pinning you against the wall, his mouth on yours. He gripped you by the jaw, nipping at your bottom lip while you arched into him.
Shit. It was a miracle he kept himself under control through the whole ceremony. No doubt his whole family saw his growing tent while you walked down the aisle. If he had to wait another second he would’ve bent you over the damn altar.
Your dick throbbed beneath the sleek, traditional wedding dress Naoya picked out for you. Rutting your hips up against the knee he shoved between your thighs. “Such a pretty fuckin’ body,” He licked a filthy stripe up the side of your neck, your thighs trembled against him. “Ah naoya… s-slow down— mmph!” He jammed his thigh against your cock, squeezing you with just enough force to make your eyes roll back.
“Mmfuck—” you gasped, pre already oozing out of the slit, staining the wedding dress. You just prayed he wouldn’t see it.
Naoya’s hands trailed lower, cupping your flat chest, then down to your waist. He roughly cupped the area between your thighs— his eyes widened and he coiled back. “What the fuck?!”
You stood there, legs trembling, with a prominent erection pressing against your wedding dress. Heat crept into your face, embarrassed and desperate. You needed his hands back on you. Touching you. Using you.
He stared at you in a mix of disbelief and something darker. Rage. He had been duped by you. The entire Zenin clan was. You feared for your life for a moment. “N-naoya I can explain—” “Quiet.”
Naoya closed the gap again, a fist yanked your hair back. A feral glint now in his eyes. “How should I punish you?” “What?” He yanked harder, and you let out a whimpering moan. He broke into a cruel grin. “Yeah? You liked that?”
Naoya shoved you to your knees, his fist still tight in your hair. He undid his belt one-handed, yanking the waistband down enough for his cock to spring free.
You flinched, gaze glued to the monster in front of you. Girthy, with veins snaking all the way up to his tip. The mushroom head is an engorged wine-red, his cock twitching above your face. He could split you open with that monster cock, you realized, slightly terrified. But fuck if that image wasn’t hot.
Naoya stroked himself as he watched your expression morph from fear to desire. “You’re a little masochist, aren’t you?” His gaze alight with something hungry and almost brutish. Naoya pressed his tip to your lips, prying your jaw open and he sunk in with a wet slide. “Fuuuuck yeah… Tha’s my little fag.”
Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, unable to breathe. Naoya held himself there anyways, his cock down your throat while your tongue swirled around him. You patted his thigh to tap out, but he was on a fucking high. “C’mon… suck your punishment like a good boy,” he cooed, it sounded almost sweet until he thrusted, and you choked around him.
He kept thrusting, groaning harder and harder as he found his rhythm. Obscene gluck gluck gluck sounds were fucked from your throat as tears streamed down your face. Mascara ran down in black streaks.
Your head was trapped between his hips and the wall, the constant slap of his ballsack against your chin made the pulsing between your legs more violent. “Damn… that mouth,” he moaned. “So soft. Suck it deeper.” Your throat opened up around his girth as he pistoned forward. Saliva dribbled out of the corners of your mouth. Sloppy strings dripping onto the hotel floor and on your dress.
Without thinking, you hiked your dress up enough to show off your cock. Wrapping a fist around yourself and pumping your meat to the rhythm of his thrusts.
Naoya had his arms braced against the wall, never breaking eye contact with you, even as you started playing with yourself. The sight of your cock sent him into a frenzy, his rough, controlled thrusts turning erratic as he neared his peak.
He held your head with both hands, keeping you still as he snapped his hips forward. “Gonna have that tight little ass—” slam “pump my seed inside of you—” slam “keep you around for clan meetings t’suck me off under the table…”
You moaned against him as he slammed home, cum shot down your throat like a hose, swallowing every thick rope like a grateful little bitch. Just seconds after, your own cock splurted a rope of semen. Making a mess all over your hand and the hotel floor.
Naoya pulled out, and without wasting a break, was yanking his shirt off and over his head. Tossing it to the side. His muscles flexed under the dim lamplight. You weren’t given much time to admire as he hooked one arm between your legs and threw you over his shoulder. You squirmed, “N-naoya what’re you—?!”
He tossed you on the bed, climbing between your legs and yanking them apart. “Don’t try hiding now,” he said with a low, dangerous drawl to his voice. He hawked spit right against your brown bud, the warm wetness hit you like a shot. You flinched, and it seeped down your crack. “Oh my gooood,” you said through a muffled lip bite.
Naoya stroked his cock at the base of your brown bud, his gaze glued to your dick and the way it twitched with excitement. “So needy after cumming. I wonder how much you can take.” Your eyes widened. “W-wait! Naoya—” He rolled his hips forward, his cock sinking into you perfectly.
Your back arched off of the sheets, toes curling.
“Shhiiiit… just like that,” he groaned, pushing his hips deeper until he bottomed out. His eyelids fluttered slightly as your gummy walls sucked him in like a fleshlight. “Take daddy deeper.”
Your jaw hung open slightly, and tongue lolling out like an animal in heat. He was splitting you open with his cock, thrumming against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips stuttered, rutting up against him.
“Yeah… faster now. Make me feel this pretty body earn its keep.” You were in a complete daze, unable to think about anything other than naoya and his fat cock. “Yes d-daddy,” you murmured. “Louder.” “Yes daddy!” You screamed, loud enough for the next three hotel rooms to hear.
Naoya’s cruel grin returned. “Mmm, look at you. Droolin’ all over the sheets. Such a filthy little boy toy.” he whispered, yanking down the front of your dress and capturing one of your nipples with his tongue. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive tit, closing his lips around it to get a loud moan from you. Simultaneously thrusting in and out of your ass hard enough to make you a trembling, begging mess.
“Yes yes yes! Mmm holy shit naoya!” You locked your legs around his waist while his sack clapped down on you. Nails clawing at his back, leaving red streaks. He lathered glops of saliva all over each tit. Swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, then flicking to get your insides all nice and tight. “Love havin’ this dick inside you, huh? Gonna cum all over this cock?”
You were a nodding, blabbering mess. Just a mindless sex slave that would do anything he asked you to. Naoya pulled away from your chest, satisfied with your response and losing himself in the heat of your sphincter.
Holy– fuck, you were gonna cum hard. You whimpered loudly as he hit your prostate. “R-right there! Yes, ohmygod.” You were gone, making a brainless expression that only drove Naoya deeper into you. Your sack went stiff until you were shooting cum across your own chest.
Your sloppy insides fluttered and pulsated around him, another heat wave crashing over you that made your hips stutter. Naoya was so fucking close. “Holy fuck… yeah, that’s it,” he said through gritted teeth. “Take every inch… milk me dry.” “Mmmfff yes naoya stuff me with your baby batter~”
Naoya’s entire body locked up at your filthy language— his control snapped. His hips jerked erratically as he spilled into you with a deep groan. Buried into you so far his fat head nudged your prostate, the ropes of semen hitting every sensitive nerve.
Another heat wave came over you and your back arched, eyes rolled back. Spurts of baby batter making a mess all over you and the sheets.
Naoya pulled out slowly, glops of white hot cum spilling out of your winking ass hole. You breathed hard, white stars dancing in your vision as you tried to calm yourself down from your high.
Naoya was already off the bed and rounded the edge to smack your dick. You let out an adorable yip and squeezed your thighs shut. “Ee! Jesus– naoya..” A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, proud of himself with a filthy haze passing over his expression. “Five minute break,” He gave your cock a hard squeeze. “It’s the only one you’re getting tonight.”
a/n: thank you anon for this REQUUUEESSSTTT AHHHH 😈 I've been meaning to write gay naoya stuff but I didn't think there was an audience for it 😍 this was so much fun <3333
I don’t see enough of this anywhere, so may I politely request Naoya x femboy!reader, where either reader tricked his way into marriage with Naoya and it’s revealed that he’s a guy (which Naoya is actually happy about), or where Naoya hand-picks reader specifically to be his “wife” so that he 1: doesn’t have to marry a woman and 2: can keep the fact that he’s marrying a man under wraps due to his spouse’s femininity? Maybe either in hc form or as a wedding-night smut scene?
Sorry if it’s a bit much to ask, I’m starving feeding off like 3 short one-shots here. You don’t have to write it, but thank you so much in advance if you do!
Naoya married... a femboy?!
cw : naoya x femboy!reader, dom-naoya, head-pushing, anal, degradation, f-slur used as a derogatory nickname, use of ‘daddy,’ what’s it called when they become kinda brainless?
The moment the hotel door clicked shut, Naoya was already pinning you against the wall, his mouth on yours. He gripped you by the jaw, nipping at your bottom lip while you arched into him.
Shit. It was a miracle he kept himself under control through the whole ceremony. No doubt his whole family saw his growing tent while you walked down the aisle. If he had to wait another second he would’ve bent you over the damn altar.
Your dick throbbed beneath the sleek, traditional wedding dress Naoya picked out for you. Rutting your hips up against the knee he shoved between your thighs. “Such a pretty fuckin’ body,” He licked a filthy stripe up the side of your neck, your thighs trembled against him. “Ah naoya… s-slow down— mmph!” He jammed his thigh against your cock, squeezing you with just enough force to make your eyes roll back.
“Mmfuck—” you gasped, pre already oozing out of the slit, staining the wedding dress. You just prayed he wouldn’t see it.
Naoya’s hands trailed lower, cupping your flat chest, then down to your waist. He roughly cupped the area between your thighs— his eyes widened and he coiled back. “What the fuck?!”
You stood there, legs trembling, with a prominent erection pressing against your wedding dress. Heat crept into your face, embarrassed and desperate. You needed his hands back on you. Touching you. Using you.
He stared at you in a mix of disbelief and something darker. Rage. He had been duped by you. The entire Zenin clan was. You feared for your life for a moment. “N-naoya I can explain—” “Quiet.”
Naoya closed the gap again, a fist yanked your hair back. A feral glint now in his eyes. “How should I punish you?” “What?” He yanked harder, and you let out a whimpering moan. He broke into a cruel grin. “Yeah? You liked that?”
Naoya shoved you to your knees, his fist still tight in your hair. He undid his belt one-handed, yanking the waistband down enough for his cock to spring free.
You flinched, gaze glued to the monster in front of you. Girthy, with veins snaking all the way up to his tip. The mushroom head is an engorged wine-red, his cock twitching above your face. He could split you open with that monster cock, you realized, slightly terrified. But fuck if that image wasn’t hot.
Naoya stroked himself as he watched your expression morph from fear to desire. “You’re a little masochist, aren’t you?” His gaze alight with something hungry and almost brutish. Naoya pressed his tip to your lips, prying your jaw open and he sunk in with a wet slide. “Fuuuuck yeah… Tha’s my little fag.”
Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, unable to breathe. Naoya held himself there anyways, his cock down your throat while your tongue swirled around him. You patted his thigh to tap out, but he was on a fucking high. “C’mon… suck your punishment like a good boy,” he cooed, it sounded almost sweet until he thrusted, and you choked around him.
He kept thrusting, groaning harder and harder as he found his rhythm. Obscene gluck gluck gluck sounds were fucked from your throat as tears streamed down your face. Mascara ran down in black streaks.
Your head was trapped between his hips and the wall, the constant slap of his ballsack against your chin made the pulsing between your legs more violent. “Damn… that mouth,” he moaned. “So soft. Suck it deeper.” Your throat opened up around his girth as he pistoned forward. Saliva dribbled out of the corners of your mouth. Sloppy strings dripping onto the hotel floor and on your dress.
Without thinking, you hiked your dress up enough to show off your cock. Wrapping a fist around yourself and pumping your meat to the rhythm of his thrusts.
Naoya had his arms braced against the wall, never breaking eye contact with you, even as you started playing with yourself. The sight of your cock sent him into a frenzy, his rough, controlled thrusts turning erratic as he neared his peak.
He held your head with both hands, keeping you still as he snapped his hips forward. “Gonna have that tight little ass—” slam “pump my seed inside of you—” slam “keep you around for clan meetings t’suck me off under the table…”
You moaned against him as he slammed home, cum shot down your throat like a hose, swallowing every thick rope like a grateful little bitch. Just seconds after, your own cock splurted a rope of semen. Making a mess all over your hand and the hotel floor.
Naoya pulled out, and without wasting a break, was yanking his shirt off and over his head. Tossing it to the side. His muscles flexed under the dim lamplight. You weren’t given much time to admire as he hooked one arm between your legs and threw you over his shoulder. You squirmed, “N-naoya what’re you—?!”
He tossed you on the bed, climbing between your legs and yanking them apart. “Don’t try hiding now,” he said with a low, dangerous drawl to his voice. He hawked spit right against your brown bud, the warm wetness hit you like a shot. You flinched, and it seeped down your crack. “Oh my gooood,” you said through a muffled lip bite.
Naoya stroked his cock at the base of your brown bud, his gaze glued to your dick and the way it twitched with excitement. “So needy after cumming. I wonder how much you can take.” Your eyes widened. “W-wait! Naoya—” He rolled his hips forward, his cock sinking into you perfectly.
Your back arched off of the sheets, toes curling.
“Shhiiiit… just like that,” he groaned, pushing his hips deeper until he bottomed out. His eyelids fluttered slightly as your gummy walls sucked him in like a fleshlight. “Take daddy deeper.”
Your jaw hung open slightly, and tongue lolling out like an animal in heat. He was splitting you open with his cock, thrumming against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips stuttered, rutting up against him.
“Yeah… faster now. Make me feel this pretty body earn its keep.” You were in a complete daze, unable to think about anything other than naoya and his fat cock. “Yes d-daddy,” you murmured. “Louder.” “Yes daddy!” You screamed, loud enough for the next three hotel rooms to hear.
Naoya’s cruel grin returned. “Mmm, look at you. Droolin’ all over the sheets. Such a filthy little boy toy.” he whispered, yanking down the front of your dress and capturing one of your nipples with his tongue. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive tit, closing his lips around it to get a loud moan from you. Simultaneously thrusting in and out of your ass hard enough to make you a trembling, begging mess.
“Yes yes yes! Mmm holy shit naoya!” You locked your legs around his waist while his sack clapped down on you. Nails clawing at his back, leaving red streaks. He lathered glops of saliva all over each tit. Swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, then flicking to get your insides all nice and tight. “Love havin’ this dick inside you, huh? Gonna cum all over this cock?”
You were a nodding, blabbering mess. Just a mindless sex slave that would do anything he asked you to. Naoya pulled away from your chest, satisfied with your response and losing himself in the heat of your sphincter.
Holy– fuck, you were gonna cum hard. You whimpered loudly as he hit your prostate. “R-right there! Yes, ohmygod.” You were gone, making a brainless expression that only drove Naoya deeper into you. Your sack went stiff until you were shooting cum across your own chest.
Your sloppy insides fluttered and pulsated around him, another heat wave crashing over you that made your hips stutter. Naoya was so fucking close. “Holy fuck… yeah, that’s it,” he said through gritted teeth. “Take every inch… milk me dry.” “Mmmfff yes naoya stuff me with your baby batter~”
Naoya’s entire body locked up at your filthy language— his control snapped. His hips jerked erratically as he spilled into you with a deep groan. Buried into you so far his fat head nudged your prostate, the ropes of semen hitting every sensitive nerve.
Another heat wave came over you and your back arched, eyes rolled back. Spurts of baby batter making a mess all over you and the sheets.
Naoya pulled out slowly, glops of white hot cum spilling out of your winking ass hole. You breathed hard, white stars dancing in your vision as you tried to calm yourself down from your high.
Naoya was already off the bed and rounded the edge to smack your dick. You let out an adorable yip and squeezed your thighs shut. “Ee! Jesus– naoya..” A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, proud of himself with a filthy haze passing over his expression. “Five minute break,” He gave your cock a hard squeeze. “It’s the only one you’re getting tonight.”
a/n: thank you anon for this REQUUUEESSSTTT AHHHH 😈 I've been meaning to write gay naoya stuff but I didn't think there was an audience for it 😍 this was so much fun <3333
Firefighter!Toji who cooks massive firehouse meals.
He might not look it, but he’s a phenomenal cook when he has enough motivation to get off his ass and whip out a cookbook. Yes, a cookbook. Not a recipe online. And yes, Toji can read. Even his coworkers are surprised. During every cookout, he makes the most food with huge pans of pasta, chili, or steaks. He acts like he doesn’t care if people like it but hovers around pretending to “check the grill’s temperature.”
Firefighter!Toji who sleeps in unless he’s sleeping in the bunk rooms. When he’s napping at your apartment, his head stays on that pillow until late afternoon. His snores drown out the alarm noise. Then he’ll wake up, hair in a cute cow-lick, asking about some “did you make breakfast baby?” in that gravelly voice of his, as if he hadn’t just slept the day away.
But at the station it’s terrifying how fast he moves. One second he’s dead asleep. The next his boots are on, jacket half-zipped, already sliding down the pole.
Firefighter!Toji who cleans the truck obsessively.
His apartment was the definition of minimalist. His coworkers think it’s because he can’t be bothered to decorate, but you know that it’s because it’s easier to clean.
He hates cleaning. It’s not calming. The dust stresses him out. Knowing that grime or rust could possibly impede his work keeps him cleaning the truck. Some firefighters baby their rigs. Toji just polishes the chrome in silence, checking hoses like his life depends on it.
When you visit, he’s always got a dirty rag draped over his shoulder. His brows pinched from the stress that always came from cleaning.
Firefighter!Toji who hates paperwork.
Firefighters have a ton of reports to do after calls. Toji will sit at his desk, slumped forward, glaring holes into the packets of paperwork as if he could scare the words off the page. He’s always pinching his pencil with the rage of a thousand suns. His coworkers will tell you all about how loud he sighs when he has to do paperwork— like maybe if he was annoying enough, they’d do it for him.
Firefighter!Toji who rescues cats from trees.
You have this old woman as a neighbor— and she has a cat that she likes to carry around. “Mittens doesn’t get enough sunlight!” She’ll croak with a naive little smile on her face.
Everytime you see the woman leave her apartment, you just know that Toji will be on the scene five minutes later, because that cat escapes every time.
You were already outside, trying to coax the cat out of the tree, and Toji’s already slamming the firetruck door shut. “Unbelievable,” he’ll grumble with that couldn’t-be-bothered attitude.
He shows up expecting it to run away the second he climbs the ladder. Instead, the little thing just stares at him with wide eyes. “C’mon Mittens,” he cooes with surprising gentleness. The moment he gets close the cat crawls straight into his arms like it’s been waiting for him specifically.
Now he has to climb down the ladder holding a cat like a baby while your pretty face tries not to giggle. His ears go pink.
Firefighter!Toji who hates role-play training simulations.
Volunteers are often assigned to play panicked residents— there are two trapped in a bedroom. Toji kicks down a door and the walls quake. Without a single word (of encouragement or attempt to ease anxiety) he throws one woman over his shoulder like she weighed nothing because he simply doesn’t have the patience for this. And then tucked the other under his arm like a football.
He was in and out of the building before anyone else, but got docked points for “poor bedside manner.” Even if he earned less points, he had the volunteer’s giggling like school girls. They were definitely going to do this again. Safe to say he won their hearts, encouraging words or not.
Firefighter!Toji who looks funny when he goes on your grocery runs.
He always returns to your apartment, complaining about how everyone was staring at him in the grocery aisle. But how could they not? The image of the biggest, burliest man carefully squinting at labels and carefully pushing a cart of steaks and protein bars does look a little silly to you.
Firefighter!Toji who leaves his hoodies at your place on purpose.
He loves coming back for a grocery run or just to check-in to find you cozied up on the couch, with his hoodie hugging you in all the right places. Cute fuckin’ thighs half-covered because the hoodie was just so large on you.
Firefighter!Toji who keeps coming back to you.
After a long day (or even during work, when he’s supposed to be back at the station) he likes taking little breaks with you. He’ll pin you to the bed, smelling like smoke and melted plastic. Soot across his cheek. He’s dirty and he wants to imprint that smell allll over you.
Firefighter!Toji who is a fiend for a good dry-hump.
During his little visits he loves it when you're on his lap, legs straddling him, whining those cute little panties on his work pants. Fuck, and if you’re in his hoodie? It makes it that much harder to control himself from just going to town.
He tips his head back— soaking in the sensation of being so close yet so far from that sloppy pussy he’s obsessed about. “Shit. Shit this hurts,” he’ll mumble. “Gonna g’me blue balls, holy…”
His large, calloused hands are on your supple behind— forcing you to grind in that rhythm that makes his head spin.
Firefighter!Toji who lets kids sit in the fire truck.
He’s pretending to be annoyed as the little people bounce around the place. Hop on the seats. Make a mess of things that he knows he has to clean later. But when a bunch of tiny hands are yanking on his arm, begging him to use the siren, he just melts.
He blasts it and watches as their pudgy little faces start grinning from ear to ear. And when he’s done, they erupt in screams, and beg him to make it go off again.
Firefighter!Toji who brings you leftovers from the firehouse dinners in plastic containers.
Firefighter!Toji who texts you at 3 AM because he’s on a night shift and bored at the station.
Sometimes, he’s a fucking menace and will snap a risky pic of his hard cock with a flirty little caption “can’t stop thinking ‘bout you.”
Other nights, he’ll be sweeter, sending you a flurry of “I miss you’s” and “❤️❤️❤️” emojis. He stares at the blue light from his phone with a little smile on his face, giddy like a high school girl in love.
Firefighter!Toji who workouts at the fire station’s gym.
He’s pumping 400 pounds like it’s an average Tuesday. Sweat beads down his biceps in rivulets. It slicks his hair to his forehead. And he’s grunting like a man with something to prove.
Then you enter the station with your weekly bottles of freshly squeezed fruit-juice. And he sets down the bar with a sharp clang, eyeing the bottle you’re trying to hand to him. “How long were ya’ there?” He asks slowly, setting your little gift off to the side.
You step between his legs while he sits. “Long enough I prolly should’ve rubbed one out,” you whisper. He’s grinning, looking up at you with feral eyes. His hands lay flat against your shoulder blades. “That can be arranged.”
Naoya slipped his hand past the waistband of his sweatpants, whipping out his raging hard on with heat blooming in his face. Images flashed in his head— your dirty fucking teasing. The way you wouldn’t give in to him. Your cruel grin as you stepped on his dick.
He hated it— hated the way he spat into his hand and slicked his shaft. It was twitching like mad, translucent beads of liquid pumped out of the slit. He curled his thumb around the mushroom head on every upstroke.
The bathroom stank of urine and feces. But he had to rub this out. “Stupid fucking woman,” he mumbled. “Useless… uterine creature…” His head lolled back as he increased the pressure. Squeezed a little harder. A reminder of the way the flat of your heel dug into him.
Public clan meeting. He was lucky no one fucking saw him like that— groaning while you worked his dick in circles with the flat of your heel.
God, fuck… the view of you at your feet made him pump a little faster. The erotic fwap fwap fwap of his fist had him breathing hard. The view of the underside of those breasts… the cruel curl of your lip… that deep camel toe that made his jaw go slack.
“Gonna get you back for that…” His balls tightened. Cock twitching in his fist. “Make you my bitch… haah… pump that womb full of kids…” Naoya’s entire body locked and he grunted. The force of his release crashed into him like a tidal wave. His cum shot out in thick white ropes. It splattered across the floor, onto his thigh— a thin bead dangled from the slit.
He slumped back against the toilet, breathing hard. His face flushed a little red. Those scornful eyes glazed over with thoughts of railing you.
Bartender!Toji who gets ridiculous tips because women flirt with him.
Black tanktop pulled tight across his chest because it’s nothing more than a dive bar. Lights on dim and a colorful array of drinks displayed behind him.
He licks the scar on his lips when he’s in deep focus. The women take it as a form of flirting. “Cute smile,” your friend murmurs, her eyes tracing the veins on his biceps and forearms. “Yeah?” He hums, sliding her drink over. “You should see the rest of me.”
She leaves a $50 bill in the tip jar with a little wink.
Bartender!Toji who loves a good challenge.
He treats every woman the same. Flashes her a lazy smile, leans against the counter, says something bordering on pure filth with a deep voice that gets away with anything.
But it’s always the reserved ones that get him going. Whether they’re shy, or they hate his guts, he makes it his mission to have them by the end of the night.
It isn’t long until he sets his sights on you. Clever fucking mouth and hips that make him a fiend.
Bartender!Toji who never sleeps with the women he flirts with. (Unless it’s you.)
It just makes him that much more desirable. He’ll whisper the nastiest shit in the ear of a woman with all the right curves… and just leave her wet and wanting by the end of the night.
Bartender!Toji who wears the same outfit every night.
It’s like his entire wardrobe is just racks of black jeans and black tank tops.
Bartender!Toji who pretends to treat everyone the same.
But his real favorite customer is you. A regular who pops up with the sluttiest little skirts that give him everything and nothing at the same time. Among the group you always arrive with, he makes your drink first. He pours it stronger— slides it to you. Before you can take it he scoots it back towards himself. “Brought your stomach tonight?” He tilts his head smugly.
You bite back a smile, looking up at him under pretty eyelashes. “Fuck you, Toji. Just give me my drink.”
He doesn’t slide it over just yet. Leans one arm against the counter. “Ah, nevermind hun, ya’ brought your pretty mouth instead.”
“And what’d you bring?” You roll your eyes. “That cocky attitude?”
“Nah.” He slides your drink over with a lazy grin. “It’s heavier than that. Eight inches. Makes women smile.”
Bartender!Toji who drags you into the storage room after closing.
The bass from the bar thumps through the wall as he presses you against the shelves. “Five minutes,” he whispers by your ear. “Tha’s all I got.”
Bartender!Toji who handles drunk idiots all the time.
Two guys are at a table, barking at each other over a lost card game. They’re big. Muscular. Waiters are too scared to confront them. They rush to Toji, who flicks his rag over his shoulder and scowls like he’s already sick of this shit.
It doesn’t take long for Toji to make both rowdy men look like kittens as he rips them apart by the scruffs of their collar. “You’re scarin’ the guests.” He growls. “Talk it out like men or get the fuck out.”
Bartender!Toji who hates complicated cocktails.
Someone ordered something with ten ingredients once. He stares at them. “...Ya’ serious?”
Bartender!Toji who isn’t healthy for you. At all.
Who realized that his feelings for you were getting way too personal and had to drown you out using another woman. You caught him in the women’s bathroom one night, a woman bent over the toilet and moaning his name.
For Toji— it didn’t help a fucking thing. He still thought about you like a meth-head.
Bartender!Toji who’s a mess by the end of the night.
Flat hair is messy. Falling in front of his face. Sitting on the counter with his button-up a few slots loose, exposing his hairy chest. Legs open and way too relaxed. The women are watching him like animals ready to pounce. One of Toji’s coworkers notices and has to tell him to stop sitting like that in fear of Toji’s safety. Toji gives him a “?” look but gets down anyways.
Bartender!Toji who slides you free drinks with a little wink.
“Don’t tell anyone.”
Bartender!Toji who gets jealous when you come in with a guy.
He still pours the drinks. But god he doesn’t look happy about it. He’ll hover around this new-fucker who’s humping your leg like a fuckin’ dog. Asking you questions. Getting a laugh out of you like the bastard deserves it.
You give him a smug little smile when you notice he’s hovering like a jealous ex. “Toji?” You call his name with mock-sweetness. He perks up immediately. “Wassup babygirl?” You shake your glass at him. “Can you make this stronger? Wanna get really drunk tonight.”
His jaw twitches. Eyes flick to the guy on the stool beside you but he doesn’t say a fucking word.
Construction worker!Toji who is an absolute hazard when he works.
He’ll be outside in the blazing sun. No hard hat. Shirtless. Suspenders and the leather straps curled over his shoulders.
Construction worker!Toji who stinks after a long day.
You swear to god he smells like sewer sludge. And when he’s through the door, he watches as your nose crinkles in disgust. “Take a shower,” you snap at him from the kitchen. But he already has the grin of a cheshire cat, and a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
He rounds the kitchen island like he’s ready to pounce, but you keep your distance. Fear spiking your heart. “Toji. Toji I swear to god—”
“C’mere!” He laughs, smile stretched wide enough to reach that scar on his lip. Toji chases you around the kitchen island, trying to lather his stinky sweat and body odor aaalll over you. You’re half-laughing half-screaming as he hoists you into the air and you start kicking your legs— giggling and begging for freedom. “Goddamnit Toji! Now we have to shower!”
Construction worker!Toji who prefers cold showers.
After a day of baking under the sun, skin hot and sticky with sweat and dust, the only thing he craves is freezing water.
He steps under the spray with a low groan, head tipped back like it’s the first real relief he’s had all day. “Fuck… tha’s good,” he mutters, voice rough.
Water runs down him in slow streams, tracing every cut of muscle, turning his skin slick and shining. He barely fits in the space as it is— broad shoulders crowding the shower, leaving you pressed against the edge just trying to stay dry.
You hug your arms close, dodging the spray. “Can you not keep it at arctic temperatures?”
He drags a hand through his soaked hair, pushing it back, eyes flicking to you— amused. “Wha’s wrong babygirl?”
You shoot him a look. “You’re insane.”
That grin spread slow. Deepens into something cheeky.
Before you can react, he flicks water at you. Ice cold.
You jolt. “Toji!”
Too late.
His hand closes around your waist and drags you in like you weigh nothing. Your back hits his chest and suddenly you’re right under the spray with him— freezing water crashing over your skin.
You gasp, trying to twist away, but he just tightens his hold, laughing low against your ear. “C’mon,” he murmurs, like this is fun for him. “Cool off.”
Construction worker!Toji who tracks dirt everywhere.
You JUST cleaned. Floors spotless. Smells like citrus and a fresh ocean breeze. And then here he comes through the door. Boots still on, leaving a trail of dust, gravel, and god knows what else behind him.
You stare. Slowly. Dangerously.
He pauses mid-step. “...What?”
“You’ve got five seconds to take those off.”
He looks down at the mess, then back at you, completely unbothered. “Adds character.”
You grab the nearest object. He’s already dodging.
Construction worker!Toji who’s hands are ridiculous.
Rough. Calloused. Tiny scars from who-knows-what. You’ll be holding his hand absentmindedly— fingers intertwined between his.
Sometimes he’ll drag his thumb across your skin to feel the contrast. Your smooth, unmarked skin vs. his which was worn down and scarred in every way imaginable. That’s how he always wanted it. Didn’t want you to work a hard day in your life.
Construction worker!Toji who smells like you eventually.
At first it’s all sweat, metal, sun and dust. But after enough time together? You catch a hint of your shampoo in his hair. Your detergent in his clothes.
“Baby where’s my deodorant?” You turn, only to find him with a guilty look on his face and your deodorant stick in his hand.
He tries to explain. “I like wearing your smell at work.”
Now you’re stuck with the knowledge that he goes around half of his day at work smelling like lilac.
Construction worker!Toji who has zero concept of personal space after work.
He’s been around loud machinery and shouting men all day— so when he gets home he’s handsy.
You’re trying to do something simple like wash dishes and suddenly he’s behind you, big hands planted on your hips, forehead pressed into your shoulder.
“You good?” You ask, side-eyeing him.
“Yeah,” he mutters. Doesn’t move. Just stands there, heavy and warm, like you were the only thing in his world.
Construction worker!Toji who comes home already keyed up.
Not even in a way that’s obvious, just… off. Quieter. Eyes heavier. You’re talking to him and he’s barely responding, just watching you move around the living room.
“What?” you finally ask.
He tilts his head, slow. “You been like this all day?”
“Like what?”
His gaze drags over you. No bra. Tits visible beneath your white over-sized shirt. He doesn’t answer.
Yeah. You’re not getting anything done for the next three hours.
Construction worker!Toji who leaves marks without noticing.
It’s not even his fault. And it’s not even on purpose half of the time. His grip is just tight. His hands are just big.
Later you’ll catch the sight of faint fingerprints on your skin and go— “...Toji.”
“What?”
You just stare at him.
He looks. Pauses. Then smirks like he’s proud of it.
Construction worker!Toji who doesn’t get flustered— you do.
You try to tease him. Push him a little. And he just… doesn’t react how you expect. Just watches you. Calm. Amused. Like he knows how this is going to end for you.
“Go on,” he says. “Keep runnin’ your mouth.”
Worst mistake of your life. It always ends with you moaning his name.
Construction worker!Toji who just pins you without thinking about it.
You’re mouthing off. Pushing his buttons a little too much. It drives him crazy— makes him all hot and bothered.
Next thing you know, your wrists are caught in one of his hands, pressed firmly against the wall.
Then there’s a pause, like he didn’t realize what he just did… until now. Those blue eyes flick to your lips. “Gonna keep talkin’ back?” he asks, voice lower than before.
Construction worker!Toji who’s all about slow, torturous sex.
At work, it’s noise. Heat. Orders being barked at him all day, muscles straining, patience worn thin.
But with you— the bed sheets are nice and cool. The bedroom is quiet except for your whiny little moans that slip past your lips.
Hands as calloused as sandpaper glide up the back of your thighs— guiding you into a mating press. He curls his hip forward, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves with perfect precision. “Gonna make ya’ a mommy…” He groans. Thrust. “Pump you so full.” Thrust.
Your head lolls back— mouth open like a goddamn dog while he keeps driving his cock forward in those torturous motions. “Haah... ahh yeah…”
“You wanna get knocked up?” He whispers against your ear. “Get you all round and pregnant?”
His sack claps down on you— punctuating every sentence. You let out a low whine. Those gummy walls flutter around him. “Mhm… cum in me T-Toji.”
He grunted. “Fuckin’ take it— take my seed.” He bottomed out, and his cock-head twitched inside of you. Your insides were filled with something warm and wet, just pumping every drop into you while your cunt fluttered around him weakly.
You both breath deep, and you shudder. Toji chuckles warmly, absolutely pleased. "Ahh yeah, tha's a good girl." He reaches a large hand between the the two of you and caresses your tummy. "Can't wait to see this stomach all big."
Naoya sat with his arms crossed and a cruel grin twitching at his lips. A sleek headset hugged his ears, the mic angled perfectly toward that smug mouth of his. The podcasting room was black, with hints of green like he was attempting for a forest-messiah aesthetic.
Naoya had invited you— a smaller female podcaster— to his set so you could, quote, “offer a woman’s perspective.”
The title of today’s livestream and podcast: Alpha Mindset ft. Y/N
Naoya guided the mic closer to his lips, the drawl of his voice rang through the sound-proof room. “Welcome back to Alpha to Zenin podcast— where we talk about masculinity, discipline and why most men are failing at both.”
Those green eyes slid down your frame— tracing the spaghetti strap of your top. Then to the open, low-dipping cleavage. “And today I’ve invited a guest to help illustrate a few things. Y/N. Smaller podcast and a female perspective.”
His grin was primal— stretched wide like your mere presence was hilarious to him. For a dick-head misogynist, you hated to admit that his smile bordered on handsome. Dirty blonde hair and pretty green eyes that looked like a natural guy-liner…
He wasn’t just popular in the mano-sphere, there were hundreds of women simping in his chat. It moved at a steady speed, a random mix between the most pathetic basement-dwellers and hotties who were desperate for male approval.
You had the livestream pulled up on your phone, watching as the numbers go up just from going live a few minutes ago. The messages started pouring in a tad faster— because this was Naoya Zenin. Known ragebaiter and crashout.
On the opposite end of the table, Naoya was also watching the chat pick up speed. His eyes darted across the flurry of it on his phonescreen. “Knight_WorldConqueror for the 10 gifted subs,” He called out, and began reading the message: “Aye man, really enjoy your livestreams. I was on a date with this leftist female and we talked and she made a few good points about the toxicity in the manosphere. I was wondering—” Naoya stopped there, and he barked out a laugh.
“Mistake number one dip-shit. You listened to a female. Don’t gift a ten if you’re going to come into my chat spoutin’ some bullshit. Fuckin’ loser.” He scoffed.
You raised a brow at this pathetic display. Just some loser yelling at a screen, getting mad at a guy who’s putting money in his pocket. But the chat was eating it up. Half of them shamelessly simping over the degradation, the other half was a flurry of: “Lmao” and “dumbass.”
Then his green eyes flicked to you… sliding down your frame like he could just reach out and touch every part of you. His gaze raked over the spaghetti strap of your top. Then to the open, low-pull of your cleavage. “Actually,” He said, leaning back in his chair. “This is perfect. Since we’ve got a female guest here, we can demonstrate something.”
He didn’t wait for you to respond. “Tell the chat something, honestly. Women say they hate confidence, right? But if a guy like me walked up to you at the bar— you wouldn’t say no.”
His perverted gaze flicked to your exposed cleavage again when you leaned toward the mic. “I would say no.” You corrected
Naoya chuckled. “See, that’s what all females say. But outside of this room, if I were to approach you, you’d be throwing yourself at me. But because of prior knowledge of my political standing, you’re hesitant to admit that I’m attractive.”
You rolled your eyes, a bite to your tone. “Oh, because a guy yelling at strangers on the internet for a living is supposed to be attractive?”
“It’s a display of dominance,” He countered, rocking left to right in his swivel chair like a little boy trying to entertain himself. “Females don’t like to admit it, but they want a man who can dominate.”
“Dominance. Is that what you call your temper tantrums?”
Naoya’s grin went stiff on his face. An eyebrow twitched just slightly— not enough that a casual viewer would notice. But something that made you smirk.
He opened his mouth to retort but it got caught in his throat as you interrupted. “Last I checked, women aren’t attracted to little boys. Are you a little boy, Naoya?”
You glanced at the chat that was now moving at lightning speed: “naoya defend yourself bro,” “she needs to stfu,” “COOKED.”
Naoya leaned back in his chair, tongue pressing flat against the inside of his cheek as he tried to reign in his temper. “See what happens here, chat? This is a classic tactic.”
There was a clench to his jaw now that he didn’t have before. A fire behind those forest-y green eyes that was set on you like a sniper. “When a female can’t win an argument, she embarrasses the man instead.” He tilts his head, his grin mocking. “Try again, sweetheart.”
You guided the metal handle of the mic, pulling it closer to your lips. Your eyes never leave him. “Oh please. You invited me here to prove women want you. I don’t need to embarrass you— you do that allll on your own.”
His grin drops a half-an-inch. Those eyes matching yours, glaring, with a bite to his voice. “Sweetheart—” he put salt in the wound of that stupid fucking nickname, “—this is exactly what I’m talking about. Females love to challenge men because they want to be put in their place. Classic manipulation, and these poor girls don’t even know they’re doing it.”
He glanced back at chat, watching the messages roll in. Everyone was divided. A mix between chatters screaming at Naoya to get ‘this female’ to shut the fuck up and the others cackling at this match made in hell.
“Then put me in my place, princess.” You snarled, crossing your legs under the small table. Your heel nudged his ankle on accident. His breath hitched. Leg flinched away by the smallest smidge, as if you were fire and you’d just burnt him.
It was subtle enough that the chatter’s didn’t notice.
But you did.
Your smile sharpened.
His face turned from peach to an insulted red in an instant. Naoya’s jaw tightened as he leaned back towards the microphone again, forcing a laugh that sounded a bit too sharp. “Once again, trying to embarrass me. To the guys in chat, this is how you’re supposed to handle females. Just play along. Let them have their fun.”
You kicked off one heel. Quiet. Your top half unmoving. The table was small enough that both of you struggled to keep good leg room. But that would work to your advantage.
You smiled with mock-sweetness as you toe nudged his ankle again. It was the barest touch, like a leaf brushing him.
And just like before he practically flinched.
“When women—” He stuttered. Eyes flicked down. Back up to you, giving you an incredulous look, asking: was that an accident?
He snarled as his chat clowned him for stuttering. Heat bloomed in his ears, going a deep shade of red. “Shut the fuck up chat!” He snapped. “Get a fucking life it was one damn word!”
He slammed his phone back onto the table face-down.
You tilted your head, brows raised just enough to look innocent— and unbearably smug. “Aw, did I hit a nerve, princess?”
He leans forward into the mic again, rolling his shoulders like he’s resetting himself. Green eyes flicked to your open cleavage with a heated glare. “This, right here? This is why modern dating is such a disaster. It’s because females today don’t want a good man. They want attention. Drama. A reaction.”
His tongue slicked his lips, just briefly. “That’s why sluts like this who wear tops like that. That shows off every little thing and leaves nothing to the ima—”
You glided the rough texture of your black stockings up and down his inner calf. Heat bloomed where you dragged your toes. His whole leg flinched like an abused dog, but he couldn’t pull away. Not fully. Not without getting up and making a scene.
Naoya’s pupils dilated. The words caught in his throat once again. He gave you a silent look that screamed, what the fuck are you doing?
But he couldn’t scream it like he wanted. Then he’d be admitting that a female’s little touches under a table were enough to make him stutter. And he’s a Zenin. He’s better than that.
He glanced at the chat. Had they noticed? But it wasn’t like they could. They could only see their upper halves. But what they did notice was Noaya stuttering a second time for seemingly no reason, and sounding like a total fucking idiot.
He shifted his hips, starting off his sentence again. Slow and less biting than before. “It leaves nothing to the imagination. But let’s flip this,” He snarled. Face a light shade of pink. “You run a podcast. Tell the guys in chat something honest.”
You watched him carefully— those pretty eyes and arrogant little smile never looked away from him. In one bold move, your foot rested on the cushion of the chair between his legs.
You began answering his question without a care in the world to what you were doing under the table. “I think we should start by addressing what women actually want in a man,” your words were slow. Sultry. A fucking tease to Naoya’s ears.
But the chat wasn’t listening to you. They were going wild with confusion: “why is he pausing like that,” “bro buffering,” “lag??”
You rested your cheek on one delicate hand, that smile still innocent and smug. He adjusted his legs— spreading wider as if your foot had cooties. He kept glancing up at your face, then back down at your foot grind against his thigh in those stockings, like he just couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Chat was almost too blurry to see. “What the fuck is he looking at?” “THE TABLE,” “???”
You continued to explain your point as you pressed the flat of your foot against Naoya’s bulge. “Women are looking for a guy who is sensitive…”
His soft breath slipped straight into the mic.
He leaned back in the seat— his hips cant up to meet your touch. But there was a pretty little glare in those green eyes. He was stiff beneath the flat of your foot. Half-hard. Heat seeping through the grainy texture of your black stockings.
“...A guy who doesn’t deny himself the things that he wants.” You rubbed the cloth of his jeans up and down.
Naoya was breathing in little bursts. His eyes were glassy— on the verge of teary, and tinged red with a delicious mix of rage and embarrassment.
“Women love the kind of man who lets himself feel things. Who opens up and just gives in,” You grinned smugly, watching as Naoya melted. His hips nudged up involuntarily. A pathetic little groan vibrated in the back of his throat.
He was about to fucking lose it. And all because of you— a good for nothing female.
Chat was a white blur, moving at lightning-speed.
“WHAT IS HAPPENING”
“keep going Naoya I’m so close”
“UNDER THE TABLE”
He grunted— reaching between his legs and wrapped a fist around your ankle. Your eyes widened as his grip tightened into something painful. “That’s what females think they want. But we both know the truth,” he hissed.
You braced yourself against the back of the chair, your ankle kicking subtly— but he wouldn’t let go. He had you pinned. Naoya’s shit-eating grin returned when he saw panic flash behind those pretty fucking eyes. “You’re just a pathetic loser who wouldn’t last a one round with a proper man.”
“What? Like you?” You rasped. “You wouldn’t last a two minute blow job, princess.”
“Y’wanna bet, sweetheart?” He blurted, eyes wild and primal like he had forgotten he was live.
The chat was screaming.
“WHAT DID HE JUST SAY”
“30k ppl watching too?!?!”
“CLIP THIS”
“CAN’T BACK OUT NOW”
You wince as his grip becomes suffocating— forcing an arrogant little smile. “A Zenin wants a blowjob from a nobody? I thought you were a high value man.”
With a free hand he’s already grabbing his phone— fingers flying over the screen doing god-knows-what.
That’s when you glace at your phone’s version of the livestream. One moment, it was there, you and him sitting in your chairs across a sleek dark oak desk. The chat is moving at lightspeed. The next? The screen is rolling ads.
You don’t know for how long.
You hadn’t realized Naoya was still gripping your ankle until he yanked your leg. You let out a little yelp as you slipped forward—that cute skirt rode up to your waist.
“Dick!” You screamed, trying to break out of his grip and pull down your skirt all at once.
Naoya stands— chair clatters to the floor. In one step he’s towering over you. Lean muscle heavy and hot hovering close enough your knees bumped into his legs.
Was that… oakwood cologne? You hated that it smelled nice.
Your skirt was still bunched up at the waist. Panties clear-as-day even as you were sitting. Naoya’s jaw ticked, his green eyes glaring with the force of a thousand suns. But he couldn’t help the way he was tracing the contour of your breasts. Then down to the pink panties that disappeared between those gorgeous fuckin’ thighs.
“Hey princess,” You scowled, “My eyes are up here.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” Naoya slammed his hands down on the armrests on either side of your frame, making you flinch. Trapping you between his tense muscles and large biceps. Heat and electricity crackled in the air. You hated the way your thighs squeezed together, chasing those spikes of heat.
He’s gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles burn white. “What the fuck did you think you were doing, slut?”
“You’re a man, I thought you could handle it.” Your lips curl into a cruel grin.
“Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll handle you alright.” Those handsome eyes flick to your lips. To the exchange of breaths that the both of you share while his face is inches from yours.
“Just proving my point,” You whisper, knowing you had him hook, line, and sinker. Naoya Zenin would be groaning your name by the end of the livestream. “Wouldn’t last two fucking minutes. Y’almost came from just my foot. Can’t imagine how long you’d last with my mouth. Ten seconds, maybe?”
A white hot rage flashes. “You disgusting little—” He chews on his lip. Eyes glaring into yours. Voice low and gravelly. “Y’know what? Y’know fucking what? I’ll take the bet. And when you lose, I’ll turn the stream back on and show thirty thousand people your face covered in my fucking semen. Deal, sweetheart?”
“Pull it out, princess. You aren’t lasting two minutes.” Heat is pooled low in your gut. Your heartbeat beating loud in your pussy. “Bet’cha got a three-incher. Prick.”
“I’ll make you swallow those words.” He unbuckles his belt with one hand. Experienced fingers slipping the metal part off with an obscene clink. Slow. Patient. Like he had all the time in the world.
Naoya unzips the fly in one lazy stroke— tugging the waistband of his boxers just enough so his cock almost slaps you in the face.
Your throat dries up.
For a fucking loser, he was packing a monster. Eight inches of straight girth. Veins snaked along the shaft, pulsing red and irritated. Leading your eyes all the way to the angry mushroom head— cherry wine hue. Beads of pre were already leaking out of the slit.
You came to the unfortunate conclusion that for a guy whose face you wanted to see in the dirt— you also wanted to see that monster buried between your legs.
He grinned at your disbelief, his fist gliding one measly stroke from base to tip. “Having second thoughts?”
You snap your jaw shut, leaning forwards while the monstrous thing twitches above your nose. “Please, I’m not new to this.” But the words die in your throat as one fist can’t even fully close around the base.
He shivers slightly just from your mere, gentle hands failing to wrap around his cock. “Two minute timer starts when your lips touch me, sweetheart,” his voice shakes just a tad.
You’re gazing up at his cock with hearts dancing in your eyes. You were going to make this arrogant prick cum in two fucking minutes, with your name on his lips.
You spat into your palm and lathered the slick up and down his cock. The wet squelch was obscene— filling the set room. Two hands on him now so you could wrap around him fully. With lazy, double-fisted strokes, you watched with fascination as his heartbeat throbbed beneath your palm. “Excited, are we?” You teased. Hot breath fanning the tip.
He sucked in a breath— eyes hazy from your earlier teasing. “Shut the fuck up,” He mumbled. But there was no real bite to it as he was melting into your touch by the second. “This is all you stupid females are good for… just… just throat toys for men like me…”
You spat directly against his tip, the warm-saliva hit him like a shot and a filthy groan ripped through him.
“Yeah? Men like you?” You pumped a little faster. “Pathetic and whiny?”
One fist tangled in your hair, yanking your face up to look at him. “Mouth on me, woman,” He hissed. “Don’t try to cheat our bet.”
You wince, a cute little snarl vibrated in the back of your throat that made him grin. Naoya cranes your head back, and he grabs his shaft, guiding it to your lips. The beat-red thing hovered over your lips, casting a thick shadow.
You could smell the salty aroma of him. Sex, sweat, and a hint of old wine that was almost sweet. Goddamnit. He takes care of himself. He’s not just some basement dweller— that much was clear from your angle.
A simple white t-shirt tugged around lean, rippled muscle. His whole upper-half vibrated with the force of his laughter. Naoya slaps the head against your lips a few times— too fucking impatient to wait for you. “Ahh yeah… those pretty lips feel so good.” He groans. “The fuck you waiting for? Scared I’ll last?”
You grin like an evil little brat. “No. I just don’t want to cut the moment short.”
“Fuckin’ pervert,” He snarls. “Open.” He guides the mushroom-head to your lips as you part the way for him. Your throat opens like it was made for him. The sheer size of him is insane— forcing your jaw to spread wider or choke trying.
The skin disappears past your lips half-way until the tip is curling at the back of your throat. Your tongue is pinned down by the girth, just pressed flat against him and squirming for freedom.
The little sensations get him going. Naoya lets out a low chuckle. “Now imagine this,” He whispers with a sick thrill in his voice. “I get a free throat-fuck, and you embarrass yourself like a bitch.”
You can’t respond— not with a mouth full of cock. Some small part of you wanted to suck him off. Get him in bed long enough to see him melt. Just wondering what kind of man he becomes when he’s overstimulated.
“C’mon pretty girl, suck it.” He tugs your hair as a warning.
You glare up at him— but it was difficult to look intimidating with a cock stuffed down your throat. In one slow bob, you lather his dick in saliva with a wet slide. Soft hands braced against his muscular thighs.
Naoya holds up a wrist where his watch sat. Modern. Probably worth more than your house. And on it, a timer was ticking down from two minutes.
You start slow. Easing him into it. Sinking further with your pretty cheeks hollowed. The first few bobs were shallow. He let you work with one hand still fisted in your hair. His brows scrunching in focus while he tried to hold onto his sanity.
Naoya’s mushroom head twitched with excitement every time he nudged the back of your throat. He was moaning more viscerally now— involuntary and embarrassingly loud. God, fuck. He wished he wasn’t in this fucking bet. He wanted your hot body in his bed— pounding into your pussy and knocking you up like he wanted.
“Gah… haah—” He bucked up on instinct. His body worked against him, and he willed himself to stop thinking like that. Or else he’d lose this bet to a nobody-female.
You pick up the speed. A saliva and pre-cum mix dribbled from the corners of your mouth, down his shaft and to the blonde curls at his base. Swirling your tongue around the sensitive nerves of his tip— and then diving back in. You deepthroated him like a psycho.
The obscenely loud fwap fwap fwap of that mouth sucking him off had Naoya’s breath hitching. Gasping in short bursts. “N-not fair. Ya’ gotta go slow do— holy shit.”
You came up for air— gasping slightly. He watched your tongue dart out to lick your lips, which were all puffy and moist.
His cock was scarily engorged now. A whine-red hue at the tip. Every vein more prominent and defined than before. It curled upward just slightly. The slit was oozing a translucent white liquid— thick and hot.
You’re a little angry that something like that was bestowed on a guy like him. In one irritated motion, you wrap a fist around him and twist like a suction cup. Pumping him and trying to milk every drop. “You’re too fuckin’ big…”
You lick a filthy stripe from base to tip like an icecream. Mmm, he tastes good.
His head lolls back. Eyes flutter. “D-damn right… who do… who do you think I am?”
Your fist follows the natural curve of his cock, twisting in desperate, upward strokes. Pumping him like an animal while you buried your mouth between his legs— giving attention to his tight balls.
You roll the skin against your tongue. Salty. Sweet. With the heavy scent of sex and black-bar soap.
You pucker your lips, and let the saliva ooze out in filthy glops.
Naoya’s grip in your hair tightens to the point of pain— whether he wanted to yank you away or push you further, he didn’t know. His abdomen flexed beneath his tight white-tee. “Holy… god… what the fuck…”
You look up at him. Beneath the cock you’re stroking. Beneath the blonde pubic hair. Beneath the ball sack you’ve buried your nose against.
Naoya can’t look at you. His cock pulsates with the force of his seed, building like a well-coiled spring in his abdomen. His eyes snap to his watch, and his heart drops when it only hit thirty seconds.
But he can’t think— you won’t allow him to. His breaths come out labored. Cock twitching so hard it’s painful. It slowly dawns on him that if you keep going like this, he might fucking lose.
It’s too much. Too good. He feels like nothing more than a dumbified piece of meat. And all because you a stupid, good-for-nothing female like you who deepthroats like a psycho.
“T-too fast,” his voice cracks. A broken little expression on that handsome face. “Oh my… gah ahh mmmfuck.”
You put both hands on the back of his thighs— positioning your mouth to hover over his tip again. It’s twitching like an angry beast. One looong, thick string of pre-cum hung from the slit.
Ice-cold panic shoots through him. He tries to tug your hair back. “Wait—”
He gasps.
You bob your head in one fast motion from base to head. Cheeks hollow. You linger with the tip still suctioned between your lips, swirling the head like your tongue was drawing circles around him.
“Wait… wait I’m… s-slow down,” he groans, hips bucking down your throat. “Stupid woman. N-not fair.”
Your head bobs down again. And again, and again, until you’ve picked up a rhythm that Naoya can’t handle. The salty tang of him is practically filling your nose. The obscene gulg gulg gulg from your throat made Naoya’s face go an even deeper shade of red.
He fist tightens in your hair while you deepthroat every inch. Not stopping you— just holding you. A weird mix between wanting to push you away or slam home.
Naoya’s phone dings.
Panic crosses his features. That was the notification that told him when the ads stopped playing. The chat would be rolling in. And the only thing they would see is the bet they agreed on— and Naoya about to fucking lose.
“W-wait!” Naoya grabs your hair again.
In one wet slide, you press your nose all the way to his abdomen, burying yourself in the bush of his blonde pubic hair. The lump of his cock stuffed down your throat.
He falls forward slightly. Both hands in your hair, ready to yank you away. “Shiiit! We’re live!” He whispered, his voice shaking..
Your eyes flutter. Throat convulsing around him as saliva and pre-cum dribbles out the sides of your mouth in little air bubbles.
You don’t stop, even with thirty thousand people watching. You wanted everyone to see what kind of whiny little bitch Naoya becomes when he’s needy. You bob up and down again, pushing the pre-cum out to slick his cock.
“Mess. Ahh oh god. Makin’ a fuckin’ mess,” Naoya slurred. But his voice is shaking. Tears pricked his eyes with the knowledge that thirty thousand people were about to watch him lose a bet to a female.
His face is red. Brows pinched. Mouth open in a needy little ‘o’ shape. “Don’t… oh my god… fuck. Fuck. You suck it so good.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. Too far gone. A few stray tears roll down his face while he tries to hold onto his restraint. Knowing that so many people were watching him tremble at the hands of a woman. Whining. Groaning. Breathing hard. Both hands splayed on the back of your head. He wanted to push you away— needed to push you away.
“Wait… wait I’m gonna—”
He slammed home. His broken little plea turned into a moan. Desperate. Whiny. You gagged hard— holding the back of his thighs so your head was pressed between his legs in every way.
His cock pulsated with his heartbeat, pumping thick hot ropes down your throat. So much all at once you were surprised it wasn’t leaking from your nose. His hands release your head and you fall back against the chair with a gasp.
Naoya is standing in defeat. Shoulders slumped. Chest heaving. His cock flaccid and spent, but still twitching from the brutal aftermath. His face is a delicious tinge of pink. Those pretty green eyes are glassy with tears.
He looks at the floor in a mix of rage, shame, and something heavier.
A smirk pulls at the corners of your lips. “Less than two minutes,” you manage to croak. Naoya turns away. Fists balled at his sides.
You stand from the chair— phone already in hand. You close the distance in two steps, his cock brushing your skirt. Naoya quivers slightly. “Look at me,” Your tone is surprisingly soft.
He obeys. Shy. Embarrassed. Vengeful.
You show him the screen of chatters. White blur of words moving at speeds that no one can catch. But it wasn’t just thirty thousand now. It was fifty thousand. And the number was quickly going up.
The rates for clips go up by the hundreds. The like button is being spammed. Of course, the chat was divided. One third of them are screaming about the insanity of it all. “WHAT” “IS THIS ALLOWED” “CLIP IT”
The second third of the chat is practically chanting that Naoya was a bitch. “couldn’t even last two minutes bruh” “that’s actually embarrassing”
Then there was the army of simps— all singing his praises. “HE’S HUGE” “so jealous rn” “he cries so pretty”
You put the phone away, tilting your head with a smug little smile on your face. You pick off imaginary lint from his sleeve. Naoya’s jaw twitches and it makes your smile deepen.
“What was the title of the livestream again?” You pretend to really think about it. “Alpha Mindset?”
Naoya’s eyes are wide. His chin quivered like a scared puppy. But those green eyes were vengeful— a cross between hatred and a horniness he couldn’t control. He willed his fists to stay at his sides so he didn’t just pin you to the table and fuck you like an animal.
You turn to leave— already feeling the weight of his eyes on your ass. Tracing the contour of your skirt. Those slutty black stockings. The door shuts with a click and Naoya’s left there in the room, by himself, his thoughts rampaging. His chat is going insane. And a heat blooming low in his stomach as his cock got hard again.
He saw the image of his dead wife. Cold and lifeless on the hospital bed. The flat line’s monotone screamed in his ears.
And cradled in his arms was baby Megumi. Toji supported his head just like she showed him. But it felt like he was in quick sand. Sinking.
There wasn't enough time. He wasn't given enough time.
Toji reached out a helpless hand towards his wife. But her eyes were glassy and gone. The room tilted. Faces swam in front of him.
Nurses rushed to the hospital bed. In a panic, they screamed at him to leave. Doctors flooded the room. His vision went blurry.
One sound replayed in his ears like a broken record. Beeeeeeeep.
Toji shot up, a cry lodged in his throat. His heart kicked in his chest like it was trying to break free. The ringing in his ears wouldn't go away.
It wouldn't leave him alone.
The bedroom was dark. Too dark. His fingers clawed at his chest, trying to keep himself from unraveling.
He was shaking.
Toji yanked at the sheets. He needed to ground himself. But it reminded him of the hospital sheets she died on.
Oh God—
You stirred. "Toji? Are you okay?"
That voice— your voice— anchored him in an instant. Tinged with exhaustion and care.
You pulled him close, knowing that it must’ve been those dreams he’s been having since the two of you got married. Toji melted under your touch.
You had woken up from his shaking. His breathing. His panic. You could feel it even in your sleep.
Toji was shivering. His heart was hammering too loud to be healthy.
"It's okay, it's okay, I'm here," you whispered against his skin. You kissed his shoulder, sheened with cold sweat.
"Toji it's going to be okay. You're at home," you whispered, voice as smooth as honey. Stable and alive. "Megumi is asleep in the other room."
Toji's breaths came out fast and sharp. He wasn't here. He was back at that hospital, but now, instead of Megumi's mom, it was you who was lifeless.
Your voice was just a distant memory; a reminder of the time he didn't spend loving you enough.
He was crumbling right next to you. Your heart ached watching him shrink away like this. Shaking and vulnerable. So different from the persona he exudes.
You gingerly took his hand, careful not to startle him. His breath hitched as you pressed his palm against your chest.
Your skin was warm to the touch; and a heartbeat thudded beneath his fingertips just as hard and fast. Panic made your hand tremble holding his.
You couldn't bear seeing him like this. But you had to remain strong. For him. "I'm here. I'm alive and well," you said quietly, not wanting to spook him.
In the dim moonlight from the window, Toji finally turned to you. His eyes were glossy and tinged red. His gaze was faraway... Until it wasn't. Toji's chin trembled.
He barreled into you. You both fell back against the sheets. Toji's big body enveloped you like a warm blanket. He pressed his head against your breast, listening to the sound of your heart beat.
He sighed against your skin. "Don't leave," his voice was hoarse. A sob finally broke from his chest. "Please stay," he begged.
He shook more violently. A soft cry wetted your shirt.
You cradled his head in your arms. Fingers tangled in the black tufts of his hair. You couldn't help the way a lump formed in your throat. Or the way you had to blink back the tears.
You placed a tender kiss on top of his head. Your voice cracked with restraint. "I'm never leaving."
Naoya took a trip back to Japan to hide away in his old estate after the hate he got in America. (And to hide from you.) It was one thing to have rage-baited dono’s and twitter mobs with their fire and pitchforks… It's how he got his money. The hatred he fueled was seventy percent of his popularity… but THIS?
He’s been doxxed. Stalked. Attempted robberies out in broad daylight. His guards are large in numbers, but that doesn’t stop the attempts. He’s stopped posting on social media… deleted everything off of his phone and desktop.
He’s stopped the podcast. Not like he could after getting banned off of Twitch.
Then got banned on Tiktok after screaming racial slurs.
Next was Instagram after threatening you in your DM’s. And as you can recall— and you can recall it very well— he said:
> ANSWER ME YOU FAG BITCH.
> I’LL FUCKING DOX YOU.
> I found your address.
> Kill yourself you fat narc.
> I’LL RUIN YOUR FUCKING LIFE. IF YOU WANT TO LIVE NEVER STEP OUTSIDE AGAIN.
Safe to say, America wasn’t about all ‘free speech.’
It’s been a month after that fateful livestream. And despite the hate, the death threats, the stalking and doxxing… he wanted to feel you again.
The compound is silent. Through all the connected buildings, wooden corridors, garden paths, and sliding doors, there was no noise. All except for one man.
A futon laid out beneath him on the tatami mat that servants set up earlier before bed. Naoya craned his neck further back into his pillow, his wrist working in desperate pumps. The slick arousal and rough fwap fwap fwap of his fist filled the compound with a dirty secret.
You.
Naoya bit down on his lip, stifling a whimper-y little groan that didn’t befit a man of his caliber. And no doubt any servants passing by could hear him through the paper thin walls.
His thumb flicked over the slit at every upstroke, pressing harder, faster.
His hand couldn’t do it like you could. With that sloppy mouth and tight throat— he gritted his teeth, hate-fucking himself into oblivion.
Overwhelmed. That’s what you did to him on live just a few weeks ago. You overwhelmed him. And now he’s lost his entire life. His family hasn’t talked to him in weeks, and his followers are dwindling by the hour.
And to top it off, you publicized his one secret— that his cock’s sensitive. Sensitive enough to bring tears to his eyes, enough to make him whimper and groan like a helpless puppy. Enough to rut his meat into his fist, begging sweet-nothings into the air.
He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw hung open in low moan.
It was hot— and he hated admitting it— that it was hot that so many people saw him fall apart like that. That you were the one working him into a puddle.
He needed that tongue. That pussy. Holy shit. Naoya could only imagine how sloppy it is. What it sounds like when he’s buried deep. What kind of sounds you make when you bottoms-out and pumps every drop of semen into your womb.
“Ah yeah.. Fffuck…” He was going to make that happen. Stuff you with a revenge-baby. Tie you to him forever.
He bucked his hips up in little spurts, eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open just slightly. He hated it— hated the way he spat into his hand and slicked his shaft. It was twitching like mad, translucent beads of liquid pumped out of the slit.
He was engorged. A bruised, reddish hue tinted his tip. Veins bulged, snaking along the thick curve of his cock.
“Stupid… useless uterine creature…” He groaned into the air, balls tightening. “Gonna get you back for that. Pump you full of semen.” Cock twitched mad in his fist. A bead of sweat rolled down his chest.
“Ah… haah mmshit. Yeah, gonna make you my bitch. Knock you up and get you all round and pregnant…” Naoya’s whole body locked and his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave. The overwhelming sensation brought tears to the corners of his eyes.
He moaned, quiet and whiney. Cum shot out in thick white ropes. It splattered across his thigh and onto his futon.
Naoya slumped back against the wall, watching his own dick twitch and bounce between his legs, still spurting out rivulets of translucent beads. The warm, milky sensation of it made his head spin.
As he was catching his breath, Naoya’s gaze traced over the lump at the end of his mattress. A pocket pussy ripped in half from his earlier abuse. Something he would have rather done to you. Not rip you open but to go that hard. Be that rough. Use your slutty female womb for what it’s made for.
His fist curled into the shits, jaw set tight as he realized that he was entirely, and completely ruined.
Banned account. Losing thousands of dollars by the hour. Getting a level of hate online that Naoya couldn’t shrug off anymore. His family hasn’t talked to him in weeks— not like they did very often. But if he were truly cut off from the Zenin’s, they would make it known. And as far as Naoya is concerned, he’s received no consequences from his family.
Once a month, Naoya visited his favorite spa. They did everything under the sun: hair, facials, massages, piercings… and it cost a fortune, the kind that nobody outside of the 1% could hope to achieve.
The compound’s steel gate was wide open. Old limos and stylish American cars parked out front in the lot. Naoya stepped out of the black car, nodding off his security guard as he looked at the grand front gates.
The car drove off, and Naoya was left alone, about to enter paradise. He walked along the path, sandals clacking against the stone. The noise of running water from ancient fountains eased every worry he had about his career.
This Ryukon spa is a true sanctuary away from the problems of the lazy middle class male chuds who can only wish to be on the same level as Naoya. Not to mention, away from slutty females who wander the streets in shorts and tanktops, with their cleavage and half their ass out, as if they’re not just begging to be looked at.
The spa is a reminder of where he’s meant to be— away from the public eye and a part of an esteemed family with females who cover up and who shut their mouths when told.
The workers were all females who dedicated their lives to subservience. Truly, it’s a paradise. Importance fills his chest when Naoaya has three pairs of hands on him, massaging him head to toe with delicate fingers, working into every muscle with precision because they recognize the privilege in touching his angelic body.
It’s how he’s remained unmarred— pale and perfect and without a single scar or blemish. And it’s how he keeps his hair flat and pristine. A perfect blonde, with his tips the original black color of his hair.
Quite the stylish choice, if he did say so himself. Even if the world was burning around him, this spa is the one paradise he can retreat to.
Nevermind the hate. Social media. Or even the news (who were also taking a bite of the drama)... he’ll reset… launch his livestreams on Kick or something … yes, yes this is a good idea.
And he’ll use every ounce of his power and fame (that he will no doubt regain) to bury you into the dirt. You’ll be known to the world as a slut, and everyone will forget about the version of Naoya Zenin who couldn’t last a two minute blowjob and cried.
Naoya padded up to the grand double doors of the spa. Dark oak wood and intricate floral patterns carved into the ancient grain. He knacked his fist against it.
Flinching as a slit opened up with a set of eyes glaring at him. “Name?”
Naoya’s tone turned bitter, preparing for a lack of hospitality from the servant's tone. “You know who I am.”
The eyes bore into him, unflinching. Black as coal. “Name.”
He gave up in the instant, not willing to trade his favorite spa for his pride.
“Naoya Zenin.”
The eye narrowed at him. “We no longer accept the Zenin’s at Ryokan.”
His heart dropped, and a bitter, unsettling realization came over him. “The Zenin’s give you a quarter of your funds,” He stated.
The servant didn’t respond.
“You think it’s smart to turn us away?” He paused.
No response again.
“W-what about my hair?!”
The eyes merely looked on, bored. “Maybe there’s a different spa willing to touch porn-star faggots… Why don’t you try The Rusty Bucket? They’d be willing to accommodate you.”
Naoya stood there with a raging heat blooming in his face. “Are you kidding me?! Do you even know what the Zenin family can do to a place like this? I’ll have it demolished in a week if you don’t let me in this instant! I make ten times your weekly salary making podcasts and I can have you thrown out for treating a Zenin this way!”
The slit slammed shut.
He should bomb this place into oblivion. Hang every single employee by the GALLOWS. He pumped his fist in the air. “Whatever! There are hundreds of other spa’s willing to take my money anyways! This is so much more than discrimination, this is going to hurt you fuckin’ business! So don’t come crying back to the Zenin’s when you can’t afford your compound!”
Naoya turned on his heel, kimono whipped behind him like a cloak. His molars grind hard enough to turn to dust. “I’ll show them…” He muttered.
Hours. Days. Weeks. An entire month passed and he blew his money on lawyers and researchers and finance gurus that could drive that spa into the DIRT. Naoaya was sure that his power and influence could send the Ryokun company into bankruptcy.
But every single time he hired a new lawyer, or a new researcher, they all gave him the same answer: “There’s no case we can make for this,” or “there’s no dirt on the spa itself. Their reputation is clean.”
And when Naoya’s in his room, shut off from the world by paper thin walls, he was biting his nail, configuring any possible way to get what he wanted.
After twenty-nine lawyers, it was the last one that made him scream. “OUT! OUT OUT OUT! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF TRASH!” A shoe hit the wall, and the lawyer ducked out of the room.
He sat criss-crossed on his pillow, breathing hard, eyes wild with rage as he tried to conjure any conceivable reason for how he could deserve such treatment.
And then he realized…
You.
It’s you again. This is all YOUR fault. The Ryokun’s cut him off because YOU ruined his career. Because YOU made him cry and basically assaulted him in front of fifty-thousand viewers! Naoya burnt holes into the table with his glare.
Since his career is going into the gutter, Naoya had been awaiting a letter from his father. For some support, or a reimbursement… but it had been a month and a half. Where the fuck is his money? Do they know how much money it takes to pay for this fucking compound?
The door slipped open, and a lanky, elderly servant bowed. “A letter for Master Naoya.”
He blinked, torn out of his daze. And a cruel grin stretched across his face. Finally. “Bring it here.”
He closed the gap in two strides and snatched it from her grubby fingers. Naoya ripped it open and his eyes darted across the words on the page. His grin faded… the corners of his mouth dropping into a look of complete and utter disbelief.
“EVICTED?” He screamed, clutching the paper in both hands. Near to ripping it in half.
The old woman was still on her knees, and spoke very softly, “You hadn’t paid your rent, Master Naoya.”
His eyes snapped to her. “I KNOW WHAT EVICTED MEANS, YOU OLD HAG.”
Naoya turned back to the paper. Read it again. And again. And again. His eyes passed over the same word until it repeated in his head like a broken record. And the reality of his situation was beginning to dawn on him.
It wasn’t as if this was his only estate. He had another one. Which meant…
He crumpled the paper in his fist.
Naoya’s moving back to America.
You took a turn in the mirror, checking out your ass in the skin-tight mini dress your friend picked out for you. It was a gorgeous wine-red, with an open back and a halter neck line. The cloth draped over your tits, the soft folds of fabric draped loosely over your torso before gathering into a tight, hip-hugging mini-skirt.
You smacked your ass, really feeling yourself. It clapped through the condo. “How much did this cost?” You shouted to your friend, who was just walking out of the bathroom.
Maki’s heels clacked against the hard wood flooring as she adjusted an earring. “Five hundred-something,” She shrugged, drawing your eye to the pale scars that snaked along her huge biceps.
Clearly, paying that kind of money for a clubbing dress wasn’t that big of a deal to a Zenin. Even a dishonored one.
You let out a low whistle, looking at the dress again with a new set of eyes. “Is it made from the fuckin’ silk of appalachian mountain spider?”
Maki broke into a grin, coming up behind you so she could adjust her earring in the mirror better, without wanting to ruin your view of yourself, of course.
She ruffles her raven pixie cut after getting the earring in. And her eyes linger on your figure in the mirror.
Without another word, Maki’s calloused hands run up and down your arms gently as you stay fiddling with the length of the skirt— seeing how short you could make it before you were showing cheeks.
She leaned down, hot breath fanning your neck, and pressed her lips against you. The lipgloss left behind a sticky, strawberry scented residue. Maki’s tongue, warm and wet, sucked it off. “I thought you deserve something nice after dealing with my cousin,” she whispered against your skin.
You melted against her, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs. “That was three months ago,” your voice wavers from her caresses.
Maki lets out a low hum, wrapping her arms around your waist, no longer lustful, just holding you is enough. Her chin rested on your shoulder. “Speaking of… I heard he got cast out from the Zenin’s.”
You blinked.
“Wait— really?”
Maki shrugged, as if this wasn’t the fucking highlight of your past three months! You whipped around, “When did this happen? Do you know for sure? Do you know where he is now?”
Maki’s eyes went wide, a laugh bubbling up into the corners of her lips. “Jesus! Why does it matter? Let’s not worry about him. It’s your night. One million subscribers on Onlyfans!”
Your face goes a slight tinge of red. “Yeah, feminist podcaster to porn star isn’t the greatest pipeline.”
Maki gave you a pitiful look. “You can be a feminist and a porn star, silly. You saw an opportunity and you took it. That’s nothing to be ashamed about. Now these suckers thousands of dollars, and you’re a goddamn millionaire. I wouldn’t say this in any other case, but sucking off Naoya is probably the best thing to happen to your career.”
You purse your lips.
How could you tell Maki that remaining a feminist isn’t the problem? It’s feeling as if you’re giving into the very system that objectifies women. As if you’ve betrayed your old fanbase.
Your jaw ground tight.
Just once, you’d like to get your lick-back at Naoya. Misyogist jerk. A pure, demonic representation of every objectifying, patriarchal, rich male who thinks he owns women.
Oh, to have him in one of your videos. That’d cause an uproar on the internet, considering your niche of porn. And it’d be good for marketing…
You let out an exasperated sigh.
“There you go again with your thinking face,” Maki nibbled your ear, and you swatted her away. “Alright, alright! I’ll chill for tonight!” You huffed, feigning annoyance, but you couldn’t hide the genuine smile that burst from you.
Maki laughed because your smile was too damn infectious. “That’s my girl. Why don’t you go get in the lambo? I need to get my purse.”
Your jaw dropped, momentarily forgetting all about stupid Naoya.
“WE’RE RIDING IN A LAMBO?!”
The music boomed so loud it rattled in your ribs. Blinding lights flashed in mixes of blue, red, and yellow, spotlights even sweeping across the dance floor. Women shed their heels to dance easier, and every round table off to the side looked like it was from a drunken frat party.
Maki went off somewhere— probably flirting with another woman. But it didn’t stop you from enjoying the bass throttling and the hot men eyeing you like a snack.
Maki’s a free spirit, and so were you. It was something that both of you respected about the other.
The DJ was up at the front of the pack, bumping his head to the remixes and grinning when the crowd screamed at his beatdrops.
You were a few drinks in— four? Five? Six? You honestly couldn’t remember. All you knew is that you were rich and drunk and that’s all you really needed right now.
Throughout your solo-dancing, people came and went. During a bathroom break, there was a woman crying on the floor and three others consoling her. Seeing the mascara streaks running down her face, sobbing on a dirty bathroom floor, it pulled at your heart.
And you wasted no time asking the other women what had happened. Of course, these groups of women came and went. Maybe you lost them in a crowd, or the group would split off into miniature groups… Either way, you were meeting new people, and having a damn blast.
You ignored all of the tables littered with cups that had fabric coverings. And ignored the way women checked the ice in their drinks of drugs. And especially tried to ignore the audacity men had when they rutted their dick up against a woman on the fucking dance floor…
It disgusted you and yet, you couldn’t do a single thing about it. But just once, you still couldn’t help but think, you’d want to treat a man the same way they treat women. Force them into submission and make them enjoy their own degradation.
But as those thoughts consumed you through the night, it made your temple pound. The lights were suddenly too bright. The music was too damn loud. And the group of girls you were with had dispersed.
Bathroom. You thought, pushing yourself away from the crowd.
Your stomach was churning. Turning upside down and flip flopping and just… oh god. You were near puking. This is never the fun part of parties.
You burst open the bathroom door, and in the filthy bathroom, standing over the sink, picking at his lip in the mirror was none other than Naoya-fucking-Zenin.
You gave him a quick up-down, convinced he might be a phantom of your sick imagination. His white t-shirt was splattered with blood. His collar ripped. And his lip is split as he holds a paper towel up to it.
He’s glaring at you in the mirror reflection.
Then, every filthy, fucked up thought you’ve ever had about getting back at men and taking your anger out on men fell into your lap like a gift from God. You couldn’t help but close your eyes. “Thank you, Lord,” you mumbled to the ceiling.
Naoya’s brows furrowed, and for a second, he’s thinking he met a deranged psychopath who’s about to kill him. That is… until he squints, and really looks at your face.
And his eyes go wide. “You.”
You grin at him after completing your prayer. “Didn’t think I’d see you again, sweetheart.”
He turns to you and presses himself back against the sink as if he just saw a ghost. “Are you stalking me?” Naoya pauses. “Of-fucking-course! You’re here to rub it in, aren’t you? You’re here to tell me that I’m a whiney little bitch who tears up when he orgasms because I just can’t help it, is that right?”
Naoya lets that sit between them in this musty, bathroom air. Filled with the scent of strawberry vape and cigarette smoke. He can’t help the way his eyes drift down to every exposed part of your skin. Undressing you with his eyes.
Your nipples poking against the fabric. The fold of the red dress against your breasts. Down to the slutty length of your mini-skirt. Your thighs, and the ass that’s perking out from behind you.
Fuck, he wanted to see that. Been dreaming about this body for months. Been dreaming about ruining it for months.
And suddenly, a very evil thought came to him. He could get his revenge right here, right now. And take what he wants. Make all his fantasies come true in this bathroom.
“You destroyed my goddamn life,” He mumbled.
You notice the change in his demeanor, but that only let you know one thing: He’s desperate. And if you can keep him on a leash long enough to hold a conversation, he’ll be doing your bidding by the end of the night.
“You don’t think I got banned too?” You state, almost as if you’re bored. “But unlike you, I didn’t mope around. I took matters into my own hands.”
His brows furrowed. “The fuck are you talking abo–”
“Porn,” You interrupt.
Naoya’s breath hitched just hearing that word— imagining you doing something so dirty just for some money.
And despite every terrible thing that’s happened to him, one thing remained intact. His belief that women were baby makers, and nothing more. And you turning to the porn industry? Honestly, it was expected. You're a bitch ass slut after all.
In his mind, there are two kinds of females. The conservative kind that can become wives, and the pussy’s that men like him fuck without mercy.
You were most definitely the second.
He glared at you. Then took a dangerous step forward. “Yeah. That’s fitting for you. Now get your tits out of my sight before I do something rash.”
You fiddled with your hair, feigning innocence. “People know me, sweetheart. I’m making way more than you ever did with your little podcast.”
His brow ticked at that. “So? I’m a broken man, Y/N. I don’t care about anyone or you anymore. Unless you’re gonna get on your knees and suck me off right here on this dirty bathroom floor.”
You smiled sweetly, whispering with a silky smoothness. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you again.”
“Then why are you here?” He stepped forward again, hands balled at his sides.
Pretending to think about it, you put a finger to your chin. “I have a… proposition. Think of it like a collab.”
Naoya’s jaw dropped, his skin crawling as he assumed that you were some icky, desperate sort of woman, who was just trying to get into the pants of anyone who had a dick. And even when he’s at rock bottom, Naoya has a status to maintain.
“Y-you’re sick! I got beat up and robbed! My family hates me! I’m bleeding—”
You pull out a business card from your breast, pressing the thin paper to his chest. “All the more reason to join me,” You wink.
His eyes flick down to it as if he still can’t believe that this is happening. It’s your business card.
“You’d be paid,” you assured him. “And just think about it. It would be the collab of the century. Naoya Zenin gets revenge on the woman who destroyed his life by putting a baby in her. A good title, no?”
Is this… God?
Everything he’s been denied his whole life… will he finally obtain it? Well, after everything he’s been through, he does deserve this.
Maybe that’s why god, or the universe, or whatever-the-fuck controls life took all those things away from him… it was to give him this moment. To finally put females in their places.
This is heaven to his ears. The most beautiful music.
You pushed a little harder, noticing the stupid glaze-over face that men wear when they’re not fully listening. “We’d be the talk of every social media platform. And we’d make millions.”
With the card pinched between Naoya’s fingers, he barely has to think about it.
It didn’t matter how he made money in the Zenin family, as long as he wasn’t feminine or broke that’s all that mattered. Oh yes, he could see it now— his new life. Dominating females in bed, making them moan out his name.
Camera’s on him as he buries their face into a pillow. Maybe he could have multiple bodies at once! Holy shit— could he really do that? What about five, six females on him?
Naoya could yank hair, make them choke, force them to take it, and it’d be an industry standard!
You tapped your heel against the bathroom tile, practically hearing every thought going through his head right now.
You almost pitied him. Almost.
Little did he know that you’re a femdom, and if he agreed to this and signed your contract, he’d be getting the anal of his life. As he glared down at the card, you were eye-fucking him through is clothes.
Filthy images flashed in your mind. His back muscles rippled as you drive a silicon dildo into his puckered ass hole. Considering how sensitive he is, he’d be crying. Muscle-clad thighs quivering. You wanted him gagged (or maybe not, because it’d be hot to hear him beg to stop), and you planned on tying up those wrists.
Your eyes met his as he finally made a decision.
Naoya hands back the card, an evil glint to his eyes.
“I’ll do it.”
a/n: I deeply apologize that this took so long. I had high school, dual enrollment, and a part-time job to worry about :'C BUT I AM HERE NOW.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT YOU BEAUTIFUL BITCH ASSASHASHASHAASHASHA
m.list
stepdad!toji who saw you at the pool with your mom. Just a slutty girl flaunting your swimsuit like you were the next vogue model. The thin cloth barely covered your tits and occasionally slipped enough to get a peak of your areola. It was a mystery how your mom let you wear that out.
He sipped his drink, lounged against the lawn chair. A giant in height and muscle compared to every guy at the pool. Sunlight caught the scar on his lip as he licked his teeth, watching as you bound over to the lawn chair next to him to beg your mom for cash.
Toji knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip up, and fished out a few ones from his wallet. “For your sister,” he winked at your mother, who did look good for her age, but both you and Toji knew damn well that there was still a clear difference.
Your mom didn’t pick up on the obvious lie— she only giggled and took the cash.
stepdad!toji loves it when you act like a whore for your daddy. You hated knowing that such a hot, muscular man ten times your age was interested in your money-grubbing mom. But for the past few months, you’ve been taking measures to show him that there are other options.
Leaving the house in party dresses that showed off half your ass and hugged you in all the right places. Hugs that were a little too long. Sneaking in dirty jokes when that’d make him hard as a motherfucker. Toji’d play along by smacking you in the ass when your mom wasn’t looking or pressing up behind you to help you reach for something from the cabinet.
stepdad!toji stepped out of the bathroom. His hair damp and water rolled down his chiseled front in rivulets. A towel wrapped around his waist, sagged low enough to show off his dark happy trail. He walked past your room, only to stop short at the cracked door.
You laid on your stomach, ass arched in the air with your panties pulled just beneath your ass. Two fingers dipped between your wet cunt. “D-daddy,” you moaned so prettily into the sheets.
Toji’s breath stopped, his towel growing a tent watching you so desperately wiggle that ass. He slid the door open— light creeped into the room until it hit your face. Your eyes widened, and you snapped up in an instant. “T-toji!” You struggled to find the words as heat bloomed in your face. “I was just- I-”
He stepped to the edge of the bed, one large hand fiddling with the tie on his towel. “Face down, ass up baby girl. Let daddy make you feel good.” “Wha-? Toji—!” The towel hit the floor and his cock sprung free.
You scrambled from sheer embarrassment, but you couldn’t go far before he hooked one harm between your legs and plopped you back down on the bled. He propped your thighs open with his knees— dragging his cock up and down between the labia of your sopping cunt. “Teasing me for so long… this is what ya’ fuckin’ deserve.” He slammed home, you bit the sheets, moaning. “Oh my god… you’re big… so fuckin’ big.”
His hips slapped against yours at a brutal pace, a filthy moan ripping through you every time his ballsack hit your cunt. “Been dreamin’ about this the day I laid eyes on you. Wanted to fill this little cunty so bad.”
He fucked you into the sheets until you were a sweating, trembling mess. Just a dumbified piece of meat that had cum three times already. A pocket pussy he used to get his rocks off. You kicked your legs as he drove his cock harder and faster. The wet squelch from your soaked pussy filled the room, your desperate whining was sweet music to his ears. “Mmmfuck yes, yes— I want it daddy!” “That’s right… Gonna cum- gonna cum inside my little girl—” He grunted, and buried himself to the hilt, your insides filled to the brim with his semen.
He pulled out, watching as you lay limp against the bed, white glops oozing out of your pussy. He trailed gentle kisses all the way from your spine to your shoulder. He nipped at the skin, “Don’t tell mommy, ‘kay? This’ll be our little secret.”
stepdad!toji who you called to help out with your dress malfunction before the wedding. You hated that he was marrying your mom, but he said that it was just so he could keep seeing you. “It won’t go up,” you pouted as Toji’s large hand gripped your waist for support.
The wall-mirror giving you a clear view of him in his white button-up and black dress pants that were way too tight around the crotch area. He struggled with the zipper behind you. “This dress don’t fit you baby girl,” He drawled in that lazy voice. His thumb brushed the spine of your lower back, making you arch instinctively. “I-It does!” You insisted, “I can fit anything!”
He licked his lips, dark blue eyes flicked to yours in the mirror. He leaned against the shell of your ear. “You can fit anything?” He whispered. You realized your mistake, but it was too late to correct it. His belt already slipped off with a sharp clink. His dress pants yanked down to his ankles. He threw your legs over his shoulders, gripping your chin as he sank in with a wet slide.
“Eyes on me little girl. Don’t get embarrassed now,” he grinned. You arched your back against him, but that only made his cock hit you deeper. “Gotta get my girl off of birth control, huh? Knock you up one of these days. Get you all nice and round.”
Your eyes rolled back. “Ahh mmm, daddy— you’re about to g-get married…” “So? I can’t think about the future? Imagine pumping your womb full of daddy’s semen.” Your walls squeezed him tighter, making him chuckle. “Tha’s my girl. Squeeze daddy tighter. This has to be a quickie.”
a/n: sry this is a lil short but I had to get this out 😈i think I actually have some sort of disorder when it comes to toji I can't buss unless it's him... i'm not joking either
stepdad!toji who saw you at the pool with your mom. Just a slutty girl flaunting your swimsuit like you were the next vogue model. The thin cloth barely covered your tits and occasionally slipped enough to get a peak of your areola. It was a mystery how your mom let you wear that out.
He sipped his drink, lounged against the lawn chair. A giant in height and muscle compared to every guy at the pool. Sunlight caught the scar on his lip as he licked his teeth, watching as you bound over to the lawn chair next to him to beg your mom for cash.
Toji knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip up, and fished out a few ones from his wallet. “For your sister,” he winked at your mother, who did look good for her age, but both you and Toji knew damn well that there was still a clear difference.
Your mom didn’t pick up on the obvious lie— she only giggled and took the cash.
stepdad!toji loves it when you act like a whore for your daddy. You hated knowing that such a hot, muscular man ten times your age was interested in your money-grubbing mom. But for the past few months, you’ve been taking measures to show him that there are other options.
Leaving the house in party dresses that showed off half your ass and hugged you in all the right places. Hugs that were a little too long. Sneaking in dirty jokes when that’d make him hard as a motherfucker. Toji’d play along by smacking you in the ass when your mom wasn’t looking or pressing up behind you to help you reach for something from the cabinet.
stepdad!toji stepped out of the bathroom. His hair damp and water rolled down his chiseled front in rivulets. A towel wrapped around his waist, sagged low enough to show off his dark happy trail. He walked past your room, only to stop short at the cracked door.
You laid on your stomach, ass arched in the air with your panties pulled just beneath your ass. Two fingers dipped between your wet cunt. “D-daddy,” you moaned so prettily into the sheets.
Toji’s breath stopped, his towel growing a tent watching you so desperately wiggle that ass. He slid the door open— light creeped into the room until it hit your face. Your eyes widened, and you snapped up in an instant. “T-toji!” You struggled to find the words as heat bloomed in your face. “I was just- I-”
He stepped to the edge of the bed, one large hand fiddling with the tie on his towel. “Face down, ass up baby girl. Let daddy make you feel good.” “Wha-? Toji—!” The towel hit the floor and his cock sprung free.
You scrambled from sheer embarrassment, but you couldn’t go far before he hooked one harm between your legs and plopped you back down on the bed. He propped your thighs open with his knees— dragging his cock up and down between the labia of your sopping cunt. “Teasing me for so long… this is what ya’ fuckin’ deserve.” He slammed home, you bit the sheets, moaning. “Oh my god… you’re big… so fuckin’ big.”
His hips slapped against yours at a brutal pace, a filthy moan ripping through you every time his ballsack hit your cunt. “Been dreamin’ about this the day I laid eyes on you. Wanted to fill this little cunty so bad.”
He fucked you into the sheets until you were a sweating, trembling mess. Just a dumbified piece of meat that had cum three times already. A pocket pussy he used to get his rocks off. You kicked your legs as he drove his cock harder and faster. The wet squelch from your soaked pussy filled the room, your desperate whining was sweet music to his ears. “Mmmfuck yes, yes— I want it daddy!” “That’s right… Gonna cum- gonna cum inside my little girl—” He grunted, and buried himself to the hilt, your insides filled to the brim with his semen.
He pulled out, watching as you lay limp against the bed, white glops oozing out of your pussy. He trailed gentle kisses all the way from your spine to your shoulder. He nipped at the skin, “Don’t tell mommy, ‘kay? This’ll be our little secret.”
stepdad!toji who you called to help out with your dress malfunction before the wedding. You hated that he was marrying your mom, but he said that it was just so he could keep seeing you. “It won’t go up,” you pouted as Toji’s large hand gripped your waist for support.
The wall-mirror giving you a clear view of him in his white button-up and black dress pants that were way too tight around the crotch area. He struggled with the zipper behind you. “This dress don’t fit you baby girl,” He drawled in that lazy voice. His thumb brushed the spine of your lower back, making you arch instinctively. “I-It does!” You insisted, “I can fit anything!”
He licked his lips, dark blue eyes flicked to yours in the mirror. He leaned against the shell of your ear. “You can fit anything?” He whispered. You realized your mistake, but it was too late to correct it. His belt already slipped off with a sharp clink. His dress pants yanked down to his ankles. He threw your legs over his shoulders, gripping your chin as he sank in with a wet slide.
“Eyes on me little girl. Don’t get embarrassed now,” he grinned. You arched your back against him, but that only made his cock hit you deeper. “Gotta get my girl off of birth control, huh? Knock you up one of these days. Get you all nice and round.”
Your eyes rolled back. “Ahh mmm, daddy— you’re about to g-get married…” “So? I can’t think about the future? Imagine pumping your womb full of daddy’s semen.” Your walls squeezed him tighter, making him chuckle. “Tha’s my girl. Squeeze daddy tighter. This has to be a quickie.”
a/n: sry this is a lil short but I had to get this out 😈i think I actually have some sort of disorder when it comes to toji I can't buss unless it's him... i'm not joking either
LET ME TELL YOU SUMTHIN LET ME TELL YOU SUMTHIN WAIT WAIT WAIT !!!
A majority of you may not care but for those who DO thank you to fucking GOD for you guys being so patient and supportive. I know I wrote Chapter 1 of Podcaster Naoya literally, like, 2-3 months ago (???) and I kept saying that it would be out by next week.
Literally no one got on my ass for the lack of communication but I highkey felt guilty because mainly on Tumblr I should've updated more. I mean, I did, but probably more LATER than I should have. Like, an entire month passed before I said something about the delays 🥲 So I apologize for that and I swear I'll be a better communicator.
But at the time, I was finishing up my junior year of high school and I was holding a solid D in math and I literally couldn't afford to fail that class so I locked in. (It's an honors class so it was technically a C... But still.)
Not to mention I was doing dual enrollment coursework. So not only did I have finals for HIGHSCHOOL, I had finals for COLLEGE. And this isn't the only fic I put on hold. I'm working on two other fics (and they're my long-fic babies) and I had to put those on hold too.
And I had an old ass laptop that kept fucking crashing :'C BUT. BUT BUT BUT. I have a new one now YIPPIIEEE!!! <3333 Bought it with my own hard earned cash 🤠
Oh yeah I'm also working a part-time job because my fuck ass dad isn't supporting me for when I graduate. I know that all sounds bad but my life is actually going really well imo.
My part-time job is hybrid (remote and irl work.) And I'm in college for an associates in web design (which I'll get before graduation without paying a dime.) And my job is literally letting me do a redesign of websites and partnership websites and it's genuinely so great.
I have friends who I love and cherish and I feel like things are just slowly coming together.
My other fics like "I See You" and "Please, Do Not Take This From Me" are my babies and trust I will get to them but I gotta get my energy back :')
BUT NOW THAT IT'S SUMMER, I. AM. FREE. EXPECT CHAPTER 3 OF PODCASTER NAOYA SOMETIME BETWEEN NOW AND JUNE 14TH.
And I also deliberately picked easy fucking classes for senior year meaning I shhoouuullddd have plenty of time for writing that isn't taken up by fuckass hs classes. (#notgoingtocollege #don'tletpplconvinceucollegeisnecessaryunlessyou'regoingintoalawormedicalfield)
THANK YOU FOR THE FUCKING SUPPORT YOU BEAUTIFUL BITCH I LOVE YOU ALL AND IF YOU READ TILL THE END... 🥹 Thank you.
