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thinking of michael kaiser
"if i headshot you three times this game, you send a dick pic."
naoya zenin x f!reader • genre: smut, streamer au, enemies-to-lovers • content warning: mdni, explicit sexual content, heavy profanity & aggressive/vulgar insults, degradation (kink), rough/aggressive sex, power play, public humiliation
wc: 10, 758 (ao3 link here)
this is a highly explicit work of fiction. reader discretion is strongly advised.
for a chill girl like you, it’s too obsessive to be watching naoya zenin’s stream on your second screen right now, all while you’re timing your queue with him for the past hour.
his face cam showed the usual look of pure, unadulterated arrogance, his dyed hair messy, and a headset resting over his ears, the other pair of it slid backwards from his ear, showing his piercings there.
he was of course, in the middle of a fucking rant, leaning into his mic to insult a viewer who had the audacity to donate five dollars just to ask for gameplay tips.
“tips? you want tips from me?” naoya scoffed. “here’s a tip: sell your pc and buy a soul, you fucking loser. don’t ever talk to me like we’re on the same level just because you dropped a fiver.”
the chat was moving at light speed. half of them were simping for his degradation, and the other half were spamming ‘lmao’ or ‘classic naoya.’ he didn’t give a shit and just refreshed his queue.
you’ve been trying to snipe his lobby because you hated this prick. he was talented at valorant, sure, but his personality was a literal biohazard. that made you want to see him lose his mind on stream, and you were petty enough to stay up all night to make it happen.
match found.
the map was bind and you checked the scoreboard immediately.
there he was: ‘zenin_nao’ playing jett, because of course he was.
you picked chamber to counter then cracked your knuckles.
“oh, look at this,” naoya muttered on stream, squinting at the screen. “another fanboy in my lobby. ‘guest_01’? what a pathetic fucking name. hope you’re ready to get carried or get flamed, i’m not in the mood for dead weight.”
the game loaded in, and before the barriers even dropped, you hit shift+enter.
all [guest_01]: sup, princess. try not to cry on stream when you lose k?
naoya paused, his character frozen for a second as he read it. then he let out a mocking laugh. “this nobody really has balls. you hear this shit?” he said to his chat, his eyes widening. “humble me? you couldn’t humble me if i played with one hand tied behind my back, you little shit.”
you weren’t done. you knew exactly how to get under the skin of a guy whose ego was his only personality trait.
all [guest_01]: lets make it interesting then.
all [guest_01]: if i headshot you three times this game, you send a dick pic.
the chat erupted.
the scrolling text became a literal series of ‘OH SHIT’, ‘WTF’, and ‘CLIP IT’. naoya’s face went from smug to a shade of insulted red in record time. he leaned so close to the camera to the point that his nose was almost touching it.
“you fucking what?” he hissed, voice dropping. “you think you’re funny? i’ll fucking hunt you down. i’m going to make sure you uninstall this game by the time we hit round twelve. you’re dead, you hear me? you’re fucking dead.”
the barriers dropped.
naoya played like a demon, fueled by pure spite. he dashed into a-short, looking for an early pick, but you were holding a tight angle with a headhunter.
you didn’t panic one bit, his degradations are nothing on you, he can’t possibly kill you with trash talking you like that.
you waited for that silver hair to peek.
crack.
the kill feed showed your name and a golden crosshair next to his.
all [guest_01]: 1/3.
“fuck!” naoya slammed his desk and the sound echoed through his shitty mic. “that was luck! he was holding a pixel, what a fucking rat! stay in your hole, you coward!”
even now, he addresses you as ‘he’. just imagine his fucking reaction when he learns you’re a girl who’s clapping his ass.
his chat was losing it, mocking him, which only made him tilt harder.
by round five, he was playing sloppy, overpeeking everything because he was desperate to kill you and tea bag your corpse.
you caught him again on a mid rotation. he tried to updraft over a smoke, and you clipped his head mid-air with a vandal.
all [guest_01]: 2/3. hope you’re picking a good filter, nao-chan.
naoya was vibrating with rage now. he wasn’t even calling out for his team anymore. instead, he was busy cursing at his monitor while his face contorted. “i’m going to ruin you! i’ll find out who you are and i’ll fucking end you! shut up! chat, shut the fuck up before i ban every single one of you!”
the game went on and your team was winning, mostly because naoya was throwing his life away just to find you. what a pathetic loser.
this time, naoya was tucked in a corner on b-site, waiting. you knew he was there. so you threw a trademark to slow him, then swung wide. he fired and missed by an inch, giving you the opportunity to click.
headshot.
naoya’s face on your second monitor was a deep, humiliated shade of red, his veins were practically popping out of his neck as he glared at the screen. he had just been revived by his sage, only for you to instantly dome him again from across the map with a guardian.
“fuck! are you kidding me with this shit?” he screamed, slamming his fist onto his desk so hard his webcam shook. “he’s cheating! he’s definitely fucking cheating! nobody hits those shots on a moving target, i don’t care who you are!”
the chat was a dumpster fire. they were tagging him, laughing at him, and clip chiming every single death.
naoya was usually the one doing the bullying, so seeing him get systematically dismantled by a ‘random’ (worse, is a girl) was high-tier entertainment for his miserable followers.
you leaned into your keyboard as your smirk widened. the ‘dick pic’ threat had already turned him into a stuttering mess, but you wanted to see him actually break.
all [guest_01]: you’re playing like a boosted silver, nao.
all [guest_01]: new deal since you’re so easy to hit.
all [guest_01]: if i headshot you one more time this half, the pic isn’t enough. you’re gonna have to go on cam and masturbate for me.
the stream went dead silent for a second. naoya stared at the chat box with his mouth hanging open. he looked genuinely stunned, feeling his ego finally hit a wall. then, the chat exploded into a literal wall of ‘???’ and ‘NO WAY’ and ‘DO IT’.
“you... you sick fucking freak,” naoya spat with his trembling voice. “you think i’m some cam girl? you think you can talk to me like that? i’m naoya zenin! i'll have your fucking ip tracked before the next round starts!”
but he didn’t leave the game. he was too prideful to forfeit, and too obsessed with proving he was better than you.
round nine.
bind, defense side.
naoya was playing u-hall, holding the angle with an operator, his hands were visibly shaking on the mouse.
he was terrified that every time he peeked, he was thinking about your threat. he was tilted out of his mind, overthinking every micro movement.
you didn’t even use a real gun now. you pulled out the sheriff and jiggled the corner, baiting out his op shot.
thump.
he missed and the bullet hit the wall behind you.
“fuck! fuck! fuck!” he yelled, frantically trying to cycle his bolt.
you swung wide and you immediately saw his silver haired jett frantically trying to pull out a pistol. you took a breath, lined up the crosshair with his forehead, and clicked.
pop.
all [guest_01]: 4/3.
all [guest_01]: hope you’ve got the lotion ready, princess. i’m waiting.
naoya didn’t scream this time. he just slumped back in his expensive gaming chair, staring at the ‘killed by’ screen with a look of pure, hollowed out defeat. his chat was filled with ‘CAM ON’ and ‘PAY UP’.
he leaned forward on his face cam and his eyes dark and narrowed. “you think you won? you think you can just embarrass me like this and walk away?” he hissed. “i’m going to find out who you are. and when i do, i’m going to make you regret every single word you typed in that fucking box.”
he didn’t end the stream immediately. he just sat there, breathing hard, looking like he was debating whether to actually follow through or just smash his monitor into pieces.
all [guest_01]: stop barking and start working that hand, nao-chan. everyone’s waiting.
he let out a jagged, frustrated breath and finally ripped his headset off, throwing it against the wall.
the stream cut to a ‘technical difficulties’ screen, but you knew you had burrowed deep under his skin.
the next evening, you were just lounging in the main menu while your agent was standing idle.
you were scrolling on your phone when suddenly, the notification chime hit.
friend request: zenin_nao
the sight of his username made you wheeze.
the prick actually did it. he probably spent all night scrubbing through the match history and seething.
you clicked accept, and not even three seconds later, the party invite popped up. of course, you joined and the second your icon appeared in his lobby, his voice cracked through the headset.
although he sounded harsh, he was obviously incredibly stressed.
“you. guest_01. you better have a fucking mic,” naoya snapped. his voice sounded like he hadn’t slept a wink.
you keyed your mic, leaning back with a grin. “keep your pants on, nao-chan. i’m here.”
there was a deafening silence.
you could almost hear his brain short-circuiting through the fiber optics.
naoya, the guy who spent his entire career preaching about how women were ‘naturally inferior’ at everything from breathing to gaming, just realized he got clapped by a girl.
“fuck... you’re a girl?” he stuttered. “you’re kidding me, no fucking way. you’re using a voice changer. there’s no way some bitch hit those shots. you were cheating… you had to be.”
“cry harder,” you laughed, the sound loud and clear. “i clapped you on stream in front of thirty thousand people. you lost the bet. so, are we doing this, or are you a bigger coward than i thought?”
“shut the fuck up!” he yelled, though you can feel his embarrassment have doubled now. “listen to me. i’m not— i’m not doing that shit on cam. do you have any idea what that would do to my family name?”
“not my problem,” you countered. “you talked all that trash, called me a ‘nobody’, and you said you’d ruin me. turns out you’re the one getting ruined by a ‘nobody’. pay up, zenin.”
you heard him pacing. the rustle of his clothes, the heavy, frustrated sighs. he sounded like a cornered animal.
“look,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, desperate mumble. “let’s... let’s negotiate. i’ll give you skins. i’ll give you whatever fucking radiant points or gift cards you want. i’ll even duo with you and carry your ass to immortal. just... drop the bet. tell my chat it was a scripted bit or something.”
“carry me?” you snorted.
this guy is a fucking loser, indeed!
“nao, i carried you in that lobby. your aim is shaky and dogshit. why would i want to duo with a loser?”
“i’m not a loser!” he barked, slamming something, probably his desk again. “i’m the best player on this fucking server! you just got lucky! fine, you want something else? money? i have more money than you’ll ever see in your pathetic life. name a price to shut your mouth.”
you let out a low, amused laugh, leaning back in your chair as you listened to the frantic tapping of his fingers against a desk.
“money is boring, naoya. i want you to actually stick to your word for once in your pathetic life. you lost. and now the whole internet is waiting to see if the great naoya zenin is a liar or a man of his word.”
“i’m not a fucking liar!” he exploded. “but i’m not doing it on stream! do you have any idea how many people are watching? if i do that shit on cam, it’s over. my career, my family name, everything— gone because of some bratty girl who got lucky with a vandal.”
he paused, and you could hear him taking a shaky, sharp breath.
he sounded like he was pacing his room, cornered and frantic.
“look,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a cautious tone. “i’ll... i’ll do it. but not over the internet. i’m not giving you a recording you can blackmail me with for the rest of my life. i’m not that fucking stupid.”
your eyebrows shot up. “oh? you’re suggesting a meetup? that’s bold for a guy who just got his ego trashed.”
“shut up,” he snapped. “i have a private suite in the city. it’s safe there. no cameras, no recording devices. you come there, i do what you want, and then we never speak again. you delete the chat logs, you tell your friends it was a joke, and we’re done.”
you couldn’t help but laugh. “a private suite? naoya, do i look stupid? how do i know you’re not just planning to have me kidnapped or some shit to save your reputation? you’re a prick, i wouldn’t put it past you.”
the silence on the other end lasted for a few seconds before he let out a insulted scoff.
“kidnapped? you think i’m some low life criminal? i’m a zenin. i have more pride in my pinky finger than you have in your entire body. if i wanted you gone, i’d have bought your house and turned it into a parking lot by now.”
he sounded genuinely offended, his elitist pride flaring up.
“i don’t need to kidnap a girl to win an argument. i’m giving you my word because i’m a man who doesn’t owe anyone shit, especially not a coward who’s scared to meet me face-to-face. i’ll send you the address and the keycode. you show up, or you admit you’re just a loud mouthed bitch who’s too scared to collect her prize.”
you could practically hear the smug, challenging smirk returning to his face.
he was backed into a corner, but he was still trying to find a way to make it look like he was the one in control.
“fine,” you said. “send the address.”
the address was for a high-rise penthouse indeed.
you rode the elevator up in silence and when the doors dinged open, you walked straight to the suite number he’d sent.
you didn’t even knock, you just punched in the code and you’re in.
the place was spacious and clean.
filled with expensive furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, and naoya standing by a white marble kitchen island.
he was wearing a designer sweater, looking like he was posing for a magazine cover, but his knuckles were white where he was gripping the edge of the counter.
he turned around, ready to spit out some elitist insult about how ‘ugly’ or ‘pathetic’ you probably were, but the words died in his throat.
his eyes traveled from your boots up to your face, and his smug expression didn’t just fade, it transformed into an obvious wide-eyed bafflement.
“you…” he trailed off, his jaw tightening.
he clearly expected a stereotypical girl he could bully in person.
but instead, he was looking at someone who looked like they actually had a life outside of a discord server.
“you’re guest_01? no fucking way.”
“what? disappointed i don’t have a neckbeard, princess?” you smirked, tossing your bag onto his overpriced sofa.
you didn’t give him a second to recover. “i’m not here to small talk. i’ve got things to do. strip. now.”
naoya flinched. “don’t— don’t talk to me like that! you think you can just walk into my house and start ordering me around?”
“the bet was the bet, naoya. you lost. your pride is already in the trash, don’t make me wait.”
he went to open his mouth, but a sharp knock at the door interrupted him.
when it opened, one of his helpers, a guy in a suit who looked more like a bodyguard, stepped in.
naoya cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of authority.
“your phone, please,” the guy said, holding out a hand toward you.
“and any recording devices,” naoya added. “he’s going to take your electronics to the other room. if you want this to happen, you play by my rules. i’m not having a single pixel of this recorded.”
you rolled your eyes, pulling your phone and your smartwatch off and dropping them into the guy’s hand.
as the door closed and the bodyguard left with your stuff, you turned back to naoya and let out a mocking laugh.
“are you fucking serious right now?” you stepped closer, watching him instinctively take a half-step back. “a bodyguard, naoya? really? you’re such a fucking baby. you’re so terrified of a girl that you need a grown man to hold my phone for you? god, you’re even more pathetic in person than you are on stream.”
naoya’s eyes flashed with pure, unadulterated rage. “i’m being careful! i’m not taking any chances with my reputation.”
“your reputation is already ‘guy who got gapped by a girl’,” you countered, crossing your arms. “now stop stalling and get those clothes off. or do i need to call your guard back in to help you unzip your pants since you’re clearly too shaking to do it yourself?”
his teeth literally grinded together.
he reached for the hem of his sweater, his fingers twitching. “i’m going to make you regret this,” he hissed, though the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes told a completely different story.
you walked over to a leather armchair positioned perfectly opposite the island and dropped into it, crossing your legs. you leaned your chin on your hand, watching him strip his clothes for you.
“well?” you prompted. “i’m waiting, nao-chan. clocks ticking.”
naoya let out a frustrated snarl, his fingers trembling as he gripped the hem of his designer sweater and yanked it over his head.
his hair was a mess, falling over his eyes as he tossed the garment onto the marble floor.
you had to admit, the prick was built.
he wasn’t just some skinny gamer who lived on energy drinks; his chest was lean but defined, with pale, smooth skin and sharp collarbones.
his abs were tight, a clear v-line disappearing into the waistband of his expensive trousers.
he looked like a goddamn model, and the realization that he actually took care of himself made the humiliation of the situation ten times more potent.
“stop... stop staring at me like that,” he hissed, his voice cracking as he reached for his belt.
he stepped out of his pants, leaving him in just his boxers.
he was stalling, his face a deep, bruised red, but he couldn’t fill your silence with his usual trash talk. he eventually hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers and pushed them down, kicking them away with a jerky, humiliated movement.
your breath hitched in your throat, and for the first time since you entered the room, the smug comment you had ready upon seeing his dick died on your tongue.
the guy was fucking massive.
even when soft, he was heavy and thick, hanging with a weight that felt completely at odds with his lean, lithe frame.
as he stood there, completely exposed and shivering from the vulnerability, you felt a sudden, traitorous throb between your own thighs.
you can’t believe you’re actually wetting yourself from the mere sight of his private part.
you had come here to ruin him, to laugh at him, but looking at him like this; packing like a monster, made you feel on edge too.
“you’re... you’re a freak,” naoya muttered, though his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your gaze.
he was shaking, obviously because his pride was at war with the biological reality of being naked in front of a girl who had just spent the last forty-eight hours destroying his ego.
you shifted in the chair, feeling the wetness of your own underwear, your heart hammering against your ribs.
“you talk a lot of shit for someone who looks like that, naoya,” you said, your voice a little huskier than you intended. “are you just going to stand there and let me admire the view, or are you going to start?”
he finally looked up, his golden-brown eyes narrowed and wet with frustrated tears, his chest heaving. “i hate you,” he whispered, his hand finally reaching down to wrap around himself.
his fingers could barely even close around the girth of it. “i fucking hate you so much.”
“good,” you breathed, leaning forward, your eyes fixed on his hand. “now show me what those hands can do, princess.”
naoya’s hand finally closed around himself. it was fucking absurd, his body was lean and wiry, built like an athlete, but between his legs, he was carrying a monster.
the head was already peeking out, pink and thick, and as he started to move his hand in a slow stroke, the skin stretched tight over the shaft, revealing the pulsing veins that made your own pussy throb in sync with his heartbeat.
“look at you,” you purred, leaning so far forward in the chair that you could smell the expensive cologne still clinging to his bare skin. “you’re shaking, nao-chan. is the big, bad streamer scared of a little audience? or is it just because you know how much of a pathetic slut you look like right now, naked and jerking off because a girl told you to?”
“shut the fuck up,” he hissed, his voice dropping into a strained rasp.
he was starting to get hard, and as he did, the size of him became even more terrifying.
his dick was lengthening, thickening until it the tip was weeping a bead of pre-cum.
“i’m only doing this so you’ll leave me the fuck alone. don’t— fuck— don’t think this means anything.”
“it means everything,” you countered, your hand sliding down between your own thighs, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties.
you were fucking dripping while watching his dick slide in and out of his grip, seeing the way his abs rippled with every strained breath, was making you lose your goddamn mind.
“it means you’re my bitch. every time you go live from now on, every time you talk shit to some kid in chat, you’re gonna remember sitting here like a dog, tossing your own salad for me.”
naoya’s eyes snapped to yours, full of pure, concentrated hatred, but his body was betraying him.
his strokes were getting faster, more desperate. the slapping sound of his palm hitting his own thighs was loud and echoing in the room.
he was fully erect now, making his dick look like it would split you in half if he ever got his hands on you.
the sight of it made a fresh wave of wetness burst from your pussy, soaking your seat.
fuck.
“you like it, don't you?” he suddenly spat.
he defininitely saw the way your eyes were glued to his cock, and they way you keep shifting in your seat.
“you’re fucking soaking wet just looking at me. you’re probably just some lonely bitch who sniped my game because you wanted a piece of this, didn’t you? you’re pathetic.”
“maybe,” you whispered, not even bothering to deny it as you watched him pump that massive dick, his thumb rubbing over the head. “but at the end of the day, i’m the one sitting in the chair, and you’re the one performing like a circus animal. keep going, princess. i want to see you blow that load all over your expensive floor. i want to see how much of a mess a prick like you makes.”
naoya let out a choked, broken sound, his head tossing back as his pace became faster.
he was close, his entire body tensing up, muscles popping in his arms and chest as he neared the edge, his cock twitching violently in his hand.
naoya was losing his fucking mind.
he was flushed from his chest up to his ears, a mess of sweat and pure, raw humiliation. every time his palm slapped against the base of his throbbing cock, he’d let out a little grunt that he tried to swallow down.
you didn’t stay in the chair as well. you can’t…
you wanted to make him feel shit as much as you can, to make sure he understands that you were the one totally in control right now… and that he’s just your little bitch with a show right now.
you stood up slowly and walked over to him until you were standing right in his personal space.
the smell of his pre-cum hit you immediately.
“you’re losing steam, princess,” you whispered, circling him. “honestly, this is getting a little boring. i thought the great naoya zenin would be a lot more into this. are you not horny enough? or is your dick just too big for your tiny ego to handle?”
“shut— fuck— shut up,” he gasped, his eyes blown out and hazy as he stared at your waist. “i’m... i’m almost…”
“almost isn’t good enough,” you interrupted, stepping directly in front of him. “do i really have to do everything for you? do i have to actually put in effort to get this pathetic little streamer in the mood?”
you reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt, the one he’d discarded earlier, and tossed it aside, then leaned in.
you pressed your chest right against his face.
and he immediately realized that you weren’t wearing a bra, and the soft weight of your breasts smothered his mouth and nose, burying him in your scent.
naoya made a muffled, strangled sound against your skin, his hands pausing on his dick for a split second before he absolutely lost it.
you shoved his face deeper into your cleavage, allowing his nose to brush against the underside of your tits as he let out a long, shaky moan.
“there we go,” you cooed, your hands reaching down to cup the back of his head, forcing him even deeper into your chest. “is that better, nao-chan? feel how wet i am for you? it’s almost a waste to let all that go to the floor, isn’t it?”
the contact turned him into an animal.
his grip on his cock became frantic as he buried his face in your tits like a starving man, turning his muffled moans into desperate, shaky whimpers.
“that’s it,” you hissed, feeling your own pussy clench and leak another wave of juice down your legs as he nuzzled frantically between your breasts. “show me what a pathetic, needy dog you are. cum for me, naoya. blow it all over yourself while you hide your face like a coward.”
he couldn’t hold back anymore.
with one final, deep groan, his body went rigid.
he slammed his hand down the length of his cock one last time, and a thick, hot jet of cum erupted from the tip, hitting his own stomach and the floor.
he kept shooting, ropes of white splattering everywhere as his massive dick convulsed wildly in his hand.
he stayed buried in your breasts long after he finished, his breath hot and shaky against your skin, his body trembling as the post-nut clarity and the crushing weight of his own humiliation finally started to sink in.
you stood there for a moment, just feeling his breath against your skin as he slumped against you, completely spent.
his dick was still twitching in his hand, while he kept his face buried between your tits like he was trying to hide from the reality of what just happened.
you let out a mocking laugh and reached down, running your fingers through his messy hair, tugging just enough to force him to look up at you.
his face was a disaster; flushed, eyes glassy and blown out, and his lips parted as he gasped for air.
“look at you,” you giggled. “such a good, obedient little boy. you did exactly what i told you to do, nao-chan.”
he tried to scowl, tried to find some remnant of that sharp-tongued prick he was on stream, but he couldn’t find the words.
he was too far gone. “i... i fucking hate you,” he managed to wheeze out, though his hands were still resting weakly on your hips, keeping you close.
“shhh,” you whispered, leaning down. “you’ve earned a little reward.”
you didn’t give him a choice.
you pressed your lips to his, and for a split second, he froze, his brain probably screaming at him to pull away.
but then his ego snapped. he let out a desperate moan into your mouth, then his hands went up to cup your face with a violent sort of need.
it wasn’t a sweet kiss. you wouldn’t call it sweet if you shoved your tongue into his mouth, right?
naoya met you head-on, his tongue fighting yours, twisting as he tried to reclaim some shred of dominance. he was devouring you, his fingers digging into your cheeks.
when you finally pulled back, a thin string of saliva connected your lips before breaking.
naoya looked absolutely wrecked, his chest heaving, his eyes darting to your mouth as his head instinctively leaned forward to chase you, begging for more without saying a word.
“stay,” you commanded, stepping back and watching his face fall. “and clean up your mess. i’m leaving.”
later that evening, you were curled up on your bed, scrolling through the clips of his ‘technical difficulties’ stream from the day before. the comments were still a war zone of people wondering if he’d actually followed through on the bet.
your phone buzzed on the nightstand.
a message from an unsaved number.
[unknown]: you’re a fucking witch. i don’t know what you did to me.
[unknown]: my dick is still hard. fuck.
you smiled.
because he was clearly obsessed.
the arrogant, untouchable naoya zenin was officially on a leash, and he was the one pulling on it.
[you]: ready for round two, princess? or do you need to buy more lotion first?
it’s been a few weeks since that night in the penthouse, and the internet is basically in a state of permanent cardiac arrest.
naoya’s stream schedule has completely changed and started revolving around yours.
he went from swearing he’d have you banned and erased from the face of the earth to being in your lobby every single fucking day.
what’s even funnier is that…
the first time he admitted it on stream, he looked like he wanted to swallow a grenade.
“yeah, it’s the same bitch,” he had spat at his chat, his face turning that familiar shade of red. “she’s annoying as hell, but she’s the only one in this game who can keep up with my utility. shut up about the bet, or i’m banning the next ten people who type ‘dick pic’.”
now, it’s just your routine.
not only you, in fact.
but his too.
you’re sitting at your desk, headset on, watching his face cam on your second monitor as you both queue for another match.
“buy me a vandal, nao,” you sweetly demanded with a breathy whisper.
“buy it yourself, you lazy brat,” naoya snaps, though he’s already clicking the buy button for you. “i’m top fragging. i shouldn’t be funding your shitty habits.”
the game starts, and you’re playing sage.
ironic, considering how much he hates being ‘subservient’.
so you’re now following his jett around, walling off his flanks and keeping his health topped off while he dashes around like a maniac.
“heal! heal me now!” he shot called as he ducks behind a crate with 12 hp.
“what’s the magic word, princess?” you tease, holding the orb just out of range. “you know the rules. every time i save your ass, you bark for me. come on, let me hear it.”
“i am not fucking barking on stream!” naoya yells. he looks at his camera, seeing the chat spamming dog emojis. “get away from me! i’d rather die and lose the round than give you the satisfaction, you psycho!”
“suit yourself,” you chuckle, watching his health bar blink red. “guess you’ll just have to watch me top frag instead.”
he lets out a frustrated sound, more like a half growl and half whimper and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a ‘woof’ under his breath just as you click the heal.
“good boy,” you purr.
the third teammate, a guy playing omen, finally chimes in.
he’s been quiet all game, but clearly, he’s heard enough.
“yo, sage... you’re actually hilarious. and your aim is cracked. you got a discord or something? i feel like we’d actually vibe way better than you and this loud mouthed clown.”
naoya’s character stops dead in its tracks.
on the cam, his eyes narrow into slits, and he leans so close to his mic.
“who the fuck are you talking to?” naoya hisses, his voice dropping, a sign when he’s about to lose it. “did i ask for your input, you bottom-fragging piece of shit? she’s with me. pay attention to the map and keep your fucking mouth shut while we carry your heavy ass.”
“chill, man,” the omen laughs, oblivious to the fact that naoya is actually vibrating with rage. “i’m just saying, she’s a vibe. hey, guest_01, you ever played with a guy who doesn’t scream every five seconds? i could show you a much better time.”
naoya’s face is a mask of pure, unadulterated jealousy.
he isn’t even looking at the game anymore; he’s glaring at the team chat. “get out,” he snaps. “hey! i said shut the fuck up! she’s mine! we’re in a duo for a reason, you desperate little rat! if you say one more word to her, i’ll find out where you live and personally make sure you never have internet access again!”
“jealous, nao-chan?” you ask mockingly. “he’s being much nicer to me than you’ve ever been.”
“i’m not jealous!” he screams at the monitor. “i just hate losers! and you— you don’t talk to anyone else! you’re my pocket sage, and if i catch you giving that omen a single drop of utility, i’m ending the stream!”
the chat is absolutely losing it.
‘HE’S OBSESSED’ and ‘JEALOUS NAOYA’ scrolling so fast in his stream chat.
he’s completely exposed himself, and the best part is, he’s too mad to even realize how much he’s admitting.
the game ended with naoya nearly popping a blood vessel, and ten minutes later, you were both in a private discord channel with him.
the green light next to his name flickered as he unmuted.
“you’re such a fucking headache,” he spat. “why didn’t you mute him? you just sat there and let that pathetic loser flirt with you. you probably liked it, didn’t you? getting attention from someone who doesn’t know what a massive pain in the ass you actually are.”
“oh, absolutely,” you hummed, leaning back and spinning in your chair. “he was sweet, naoya. he called me a ‘vibe’ and he complimented my aim. when was the last time you called me anything other than a ‘brat’ or a ‘psycho’? maybe i should’ve given him my discord. he sounded like he actually knows how to treat a girl.”
“don’t you fucking dare,” naoya hissed. “you’re not giving your discord to some bottom fragging nobody. you’re stuck with me.”
“you sound so insecure when you’re jealous, nao-chan. it’s cute,” you teased, enjoying the way he let out a frustrated breath. “it makes me wonder how you’re going to act next month. or did you not check your email yet?”
there was a pause, the sound of aggressive clicking filling the silence. “the valorant invitational expo?” he muttered, his voice shifting from angry to annoyed. “the one in the city? of course i’m invited. i’m the face of the regional server. wait…”
another pause. you could practically see the gears grinding in his head.
“don’t tell me,” he groaned. “don’t tell me they invited a random like you just because you sniped me on stream.”
“not a random, naoya. the top-ranked female player on the server,” you corrected him. “they want us there for a showmatch. they’re even putting our booths right next to each other. isn’t that sweet?”
“i’m going to kill someone,” naoya whispered, but he did not exactly sound angry. “two days of being stuck next to you? with cameras everywhere? with fans watching? i won’t be able to say half the shit i want to say to you.”
“is that right?” you laughed. “and what exactly is it that you want to say to me, naoya? or better yet, what do you want to ‘do’ to me? because the last time we were in a room together, you were the one with your face buried in my chest, crying like a baby while you came all over your floor.”
“i was not—! shut the fuck up!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “that was a one-time thing! a moment of weakness! if you bring that up at the expo, i will personally make sure you never see the light of day again!”
“hmm, we’ll see,” you said, clicking your tongue. “but just so you know, i’m wearing a sundress to the event. the kind that’s real easy to slide up.”
the silence on the other end was deafening. you could hear his shallow, shaky breathing, the sound of a man who was once again realizing he was completely and utterly fucked.
“you’re fucked up in the head,” he finally choked out. “i’m going to make your life a living hell at that expo. just wait.”
“i’m looking forward to it, princess,” you whispered. “don’t forget to pack the lotion. you’re gonna need it.”
then the day of the expo arrived.
the convention center was a zoo, filled with the smell of expensive cooling fans and energy drinks.
you could hear the loud cheer of the crowd from the main stage, but you were currently focused on the back entrance.
you walked toward the ‘pro player’ lounge, and as soon as you pushed the doors open, you spotted him.
naoya was surrounded by staff, looking bored and arrogant wearing a custom jersey.
he was in the middle of sipping from a bottled water when his eyes landed on you.
naoya actually choked.
he sputtered, water spraying down the front of his expensive shirt as he coughed violently.
the staff around him scrambled to help, but he shoved them away, his eyes locked on you, specifically on the way the sundress clung to your hips and the deep dip of the neckline.
“you…” he wheezed, his face rapidly turning a shade of red. “what the fuck are you wearing? this is a professional event, not a—”
“not a what, naoya?” you asked, walking right up to him and patting his chest with a smirk. “you look a little hot. is the air conditioning not working in here, or are you just happy to see me?”
he looked like he wanted to scream and pull you into a closet at the same time. “you’re doing this on purpose,” he hissed, leaning down so only you could hear him over the noise of the convention. “you look like a bratty little slut. everyone’s staring at you. i can’t even stand up right now because of you.”
“good,” you whispered back, giving him a wink before heading toward the booths.
the day was a series of interviews and showmatches.
naoya was a mess; every time you leaned over to check your monitor or reached up to adjust your headset, his aim would go to shit, causing his chat to have a field day, clipping every time he got distracted by you sitting just a few feet away.
once the first day wrapped up and the players were heading to their respective hotels. naoya was at the curb, waiting for his private car, looking exhausted and tense.
“where’s your ride?” he muttered as you walked up to him, your small suitcase trailing behind you. “your hotel is on the other side of the district, isn’t it?”
“was,” you corrected him, popping the trunk of his car before he could protest and tossing your bag inside. “i decided my room was too lonely. i’m staying with you.”
naoya’s jaw dropped. “the fuck you are! i didn’t agree to this! you can’t just—”
“i can and i am,” you said, sliding into the back seat and patting the spot next to you. “unless you want me to tell your manager why you were vibrating so hard during the third round of the showmatch. get in, nao-chan. we have a lot to talk about, and i don’t think a discord call is going to cut it tonight.”
the drive to the hotel was silent, mostly because naoya looked like he was one comment away from a total meltdown.
his hand was resting on his lap, and you could see the way his knuckles were white, his eyes darting toward your legs every time the streetlights hit the car window.
the second the door to his suite clicked shut, he turned on you, slamming his hand against the wood next to your head.
“you’re a menace,” he growled darkly. “you show up in that dress, you humiliate me in front of my fans, and now you’re invading my room? you really think you can just keep pushing me like this without any consequences?”
“i’m counting on the consequences, naoya,” you said, reaching up to trail a finger along the collar of his jersey. “you’ve been acting so tough all day. why don’t you show me if you’re still a good boy when the cameras are off?”
he let out a jagged sound, his pride finally snapping as he grabbed your waist and hauled you flush against him.
you could feel the hard ridge of his dick pressing into your stomach, even through the fabric of your dress.
“i’m going to ruin you,” he whispered against your lips. “i’m going to make sure you can’t even walk to the booth tomorrow.”
he slammed you back against the door, crashing his mouth onto yours violently.
there was no teasing this time, no slow build-up. what’s left is just his raw, frantic need.
he groaned into your throat as his hands flew to your chest, grabbing your breasts through the thin fabric of your dress.
“fuck,” he rasped against your lips, mounding your breast. “i’ve been wanting to rip these out of this goddamn dress since the second you walked into the lounge. you fucking brat.”
“ah— nao, wait—” you gasped, but the protest was swallowed by his tongue forcing its way back into your mouth.
it was a messy, wet war between your tongues; fighting for space while you scrambled at the zipper of his jersey. your nails dug into his shoulders, pulling at the fabric.
naoya didn’t have the patience for zippers, so he hooked his fingers into the neckline of your sundress and yanked downward with a sharp rrip.
the yellow fabric gave way, tearing down the middle and exposing your bare tits. he let out a jagged breath at the sight, his eyes dark and blown out.
“oh yes... look at you,” he hissed, his hands immediately cupping your breasts, and rolling his thumbs over your nipples until you let out a sharp, high pitched “ah!”
you didn’t stay still either.
you fought back, yanking his jersey over his head and tossing it somewhere.
your hands went straight for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle in your haste. “get... get this off, naoya! fuck, you’re so slow!”
“shut up!” he growled, biting down on your bottom lip so hard you tasted the tang of blood.
you bit him back, your teeth catching on his lip as you finally freed his dick from his pants.
it sprang out, already standing proud and throbbing, slamming the head against your stomach.
he was fucking huge, even bigger and harder than you remembered, the thick veins pulsing against your skin. “uhm... god, naoya,” you moaned, your head tossing back against the door as he buried his face in your neck, leaving dark, bruised marks.
his hand slid down, his fingers roughly pushing aside your lace panties until he found your pussy.
you were a complete mess, dripping wet and your juices immediately coated his fingers the second he touched you.
“you’re soaking,” he muttered. “look at how much of a slut you are for me. you’re practically leaking all over the floor.”
“fuck you, naoya! ah— right there!” you cried out as he shoved two fingers deep inside you while his thumb grinding against your clit.
you were clenching around him, your walls pulsing with a desperate need to be filled by the real thing.
“stop talking and... and put it in. i want it now.”
he let out a low, animalistic sound, his teeth grazing over your collarbone.
he was shaking, his pride is completely gone, replaced by a twitching need to claim you. his massive dick was rubbing against your wet slit, smearing pre-cum all over your folds.
naoya didn’t let you breathe.
before you could even process the weight of him against the door, he hooked his arms under your thighs and hauled you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist.
your torn dress hanging off your hips in shreds as he stumbled toward the bed, tripping over his own discarded pants. he threw you onto the mattress, but he didn’t give you a second to recover.
“you’ve been running your mouth all day,” he rasped, licking his lips. “time to put it to better use.”
he stood at the edge of the bed, leveling his throbbing dick which was already standing tall and angry. he reached down, fisting his fingers into your hair and pulling your head toward him.
“suck it. i want to feel how much you missed me.”
you didn’t need to be told twice. you leaned forward, darting your tongue out to lick the length of himt.
when you finally took him into your mouth, you let out a muffled “uhm!” the sheer length of him made your jaw ache instantly.
naoya let out a long, shaky groan, his hand tightening in your hair, forcing you deeper onto him.
“fuck... yes, just like that. you’re so good at this, aren't you? ah! fuck, your tongue—!”
he was even thrusting his hips instinctively, his breath coming in jagged hitches as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock.
he held your head in place like he was holding on for his dear life just from the sensation of you giving him a head, his body vibrating with the effort not to blow his load right then and there.
but you weren’t done being the one in control.
you pulled back with a wet pop, looking up at him with a defiant, hungry smirk.
before he could complain, you shoved him back onto the pillows and crawled over him. you positioned yourself over his face, your dripping, swollen pussy hovering just inches from his mouth.
you could see his eyes widen, his breath hitching as the scent of your own juices hit him.
“sit on me,” he choked out, his hands reaching up to grab your ass, fingers digging into your skin. “do it, fuck, i want to taste you.”
you lowered yourself slowly and your wet slit pressed firmly against his lips. “ah! yes... fuck, naoya!” you cried out as his tongue immediately lashed out, making sure he’s darting deep inside you.
he was eating you like a starving man, kissing your pussy sensually while swirling his tongue up and down your clit. constantly teasing and constantly sucking at the same time.
“uhm—! ah! right there, nao! fuck!” you arched your back, your hands clutching the headboard as he sucked your clit into his mouth, his fingers reaching around to pull your cheeks apart so he could get even deeper.
the sensation was overwhelming, his tongue was literally making your pussy lick more from licking to sucking.
he’s making you see stars while your pussy is clenching rhythmically, splashing more of your juice onto his face.
“you taste... so fucking good,” he managed to gasp out between licks, his voice muffled by your folds. “ah! fuck, look at how much you’re leaking for me. you’re a fucking mess. you’re my bitch, you got that?!”
“shut up and... ah! keep going! yes! ah! ah! ah!” you were losing it, your entire body was shaking as the first wave of an orgasm started to build up, and your internal muscles squeezing tightly around nothing while naoya continued to devour you with a relentless hunger.
it did not take a while before you were screaming stop and holding his face back, forcing him to stop licking because you were literally about to pee on his face.
the sensation was too much and it was tickling your sexual soul so much that his tongue was doing you all the favors that him eating you out felt much greater than when you were touching yourself.
he ate your clit and inserted his tongue inside your pussy with intent and naoya didn’t even give you a second to breathe after you came on his face.
he growled and grabbed your hips, flipping you over onto your back violently.
he was panting, his face smeared with your juices, his hair a mess, and his massive dick was throbbing so hard it looked like it was about to split skin.
“you’re such a loud-mouthed brat,” he hissed as he pinned your wrists above your head. “think you can handle this? think you’re big enough for me, guest_01?”
he didn’t wait for an answer and just positioned the broad head of his cock against your dripping entrance. you immediately felt the tip of him, thick and blunt, pushing against your folds, and as he began to drive forward, you let out a sharp, strangled “ah! ah! fuck, naoya!”
your pussy was being stretched to its absolute limit.
you could feel the walls of your vagina being forced apart, the skin of your entrance pulled taut while your hole adjusted around the size of him.
it felt like you were being filled to the brim, every nerve ending in your slit screaming as he buried himself deep inside you in one long, relentless shove.
“uhm—! god, you’re... you’re fucking huge,” you gasped, your head tossing back against the pillows. “you’re trying to... ah! break me, aren’t you? you pathetic... arrogant... prick!”
“shut your mouth!” naoya snapped, though his own breath was hitching in his throat.
he started to move, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in.
“you’re so tight... fuck! it’s like you were made to be stretched out by me. admit it, you fucking love being filled like this.”
he wasn’t just hitting you; he was hitting everything.
because of his size and the angle he was driving at, his dick’s head was hooking right against your g-spot with every single thrust.
“ah! yes! right there! oh god, fuck!” you cried out, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him even deeper. “you’re hitting it... ah! ah! don’t stop, you bastard! keep going!”
“i’ll stop when i say so!” he barked, his eyes narrowed with a mix of lust and pride as he watched your face contort in pleasure.
he was hammering into you frantically, just freely letting his massive dick slide through your entrance, creating the sound of loud and vulgar squelch from your wetness. “look at you... moaning like a slut. who’s the winner now, guest_01? who’s owning who?”
“uhm—! you’re still a bitch, naoya!” you choked out, even as your pussy clenched violently around him, milked by the sheer size of his shaft. “you’re just a... ah! ah! a big-dicked bitch! fuck! right there! ah!”
the insults were getting drowned out by the sound of skin slapping skin and the frantic moans escaping your lips.
naoya was losing his cool too as he felt your internal muscles squeezing him, begging for more.
he buried his face in the crook of your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth as he delivered deep, punishing stabs that made your vision go blurry.
“i’m gonna... fuck... i’m gonna cum so deep inside you,” he groaned, his voice breaking. “you’re gonna be full of me all through the expo tomorrow. everyone’s gonna see you and know... ah! fuck! know exactly what i did to you!”
“do it then!” you screamed, your nails digging into his back, drawing blood as your own climax began to build again, triggered by the relentless pounding against your g-spot. “fill me up, naoya! ah! ah! yes! fuck! now!”
naoya wasn’t satisfied with just hearing you scream from underneath him.
as soon as you peaked, your walls twitching and milking him with desperate, wet clenches, he let out a jagged growl.
he didn’t pull out; instead, he grabbed your waist with bruising force and hauled you upward, flipping you onto your hands and knees in one motion.
your pussy felt wide and raw, still throbbing from the stretch, but he didn’t give you a second to adjust.
he reached forward, his fingers fisting into your hair and yanking your head back so your spine arched, pushing your ass high into the air.
“you think you’ve had enough?” he hissed into your ear. “i told you i was going to ruin you. we’re just getting started.”
he lined his massive cock up with your opening and slammed with a single, violent thrust.
“ah! fuck! naoya!” you shrieked, your chest hitting the mattress as the sheer force of the impact rattled your entire frame.
taking him from behind felt completely different. he was hitting even deeper in this position, maybe until your stomach now, you don;t fucking know. all you know was he’s fucking tipping your pussy apart with his thick shaft sliding through the pool of your combined juices with loud squelch.
“uhm—! god, it’s too... it’s too deep!” you gasped, your fingers clawing at the bedsheets as he started to drill deeper into you.
he was relentless, his hips snapping forward arrogantly and every time he bottomed out, his balls slapped against you.
naoya was a maniac.
he kept a firm grip on your hair, using it to control the angle as he hammered away at your g-spot. “look at this mess you made,” he mocked as he watched his thick, veiny dick disappear inside you and pull out covered in your cum from earlier. “you’re so fucking wet. you’re begging for it, aren’t you? ah! fuck, you're so tight, i can barely—ah!”
“shut up and... ah! ah! just keep hitting it!” you cried out, your head tossing. “you talk too much... uhm! yes! right there! fuck, naoya, harder! slam into me like you mean it, you prick!”
“you want it harder?!” he barked, his ego flaring at the challenge.
but he still increased the pace, his thrusts becoming short stabs that sent sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your brain. “i’ll give it to you... ah! i’ll give you exactly what you deserve! hm fuck yeah..”
you were losing your mind from the sensation of his massive cock filling you completely, combined with the sharp pull on your hair and the vulgar sound of your bodies colliding.
your pussy was screaming, clenching around him so hard which made naoya grunt and bite his lower lip because it felt so fucking good.
he shifted, grabbing your hips with his sweat-slicked hands and dragged you upward until you were straddling him.
he leaned back against the headboard, his chest heaving, and his still hardening dick guiding you until you lowered yourself down, sliding down onto his full length in one slow, agonizingly deep plunge.
“ah! ah! fuck, naoya!” you gasped, your nails digging into the mattress as he filled you completely.
being on top lets you control the friction with how you ground your hips down.
naoya didn’t stay still, he was too hungry to be. his hands flew up to your chest, and made his mouth latch onto your breast.
he wasn’t just kissing; he was sucking, teeth grazing your nipple while he fisted his hands into your hair, yanking you down so you had no choice but to stay close to his face.
“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his voice vibrating through your chest as he sucked harder. “you’re so fucking wet, you’re drowning me. ah! look at you riding me like a pro.”
“you’re... ah! ah! still a prick!” you cried out, your own hands gripping his messy hair as you started to grind against him. the feeling was electric, every slide of his dick against your internal walls were sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
“you’re still so tight, you’re killing me!” he barked while his eyes rolled back, all while he sucked your other breast, pulling until you let out a high-pitched “ah! ah! ah!”, feeling the sensation of his mouth on your tits while your pussy clenched around his massive cock.
you started to bounce, faster and harder, making your breasts jiggle with every movement.
his hands never left your hair because he was using it to keep you locked in place. “i’m not... ah! i’m not slowing down for you! fuck, naoya, you’re so big... ah! it feels like you’re splitting me in two!”
“yeah? let me fucking split you then!” his hips were bucking upward to meet your downward thrusts.
he was hammering into you, and every time you slammed down, he’d suck harder on your nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive skin until you were sobbing with pleasure.
“oh god... yes! fuck! ah! ah! ah!” you were lost, your body is now moving on instinct as your pussy milk him, feeling his dick swell even more inside your aching, stretched-out folds.
he was staring up at you, his eyes dark, his lips swollen and red from your own teeth earlier, looking at you with a mix of pure, unadulterated possessiveness.
“ride me until you can’t walk,” he ordered, sounding more drunk while his grip in your hair is tightening until it almost hurt. “i want you to remember this feeling every time you look at me on stream. you belong to me.”
“i’m ... ah! fuck! ah! ah!” you screamed, your hips moving in a wild, uncontrolled manner until the pressure finally became too much, and you both shattered into an earth-shattering climax together.
you were bouncing wildly on top of him, your nails shredded through his scalp, and he responded by arching his back and driving his hips upward.
you felt his balls slap against your pussy with every frantic lunge, and when he finally exploded inside you, it was too much that it started to drip out.
you clutched his shoulders while your legs were shaking uncontrollably. you spasmed around him, milking every last drop of his cum. then you collapsed against his chest, both of you gasping for air.
the next morning, you woke up so fucking sore.
you groaned, trying to roll over, but your entire body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.
your pussy was swollen and throbbing, and your hips ached with a deep, bruised soreness that made every movement sting.
you crawled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom to brush your teeth.
you gripped the sink to steady yourself, your eyes half-closed as you stared at your reflection.
your neck was covered in hickeys and your hair was a tangled disaster.
you assumed he was still dead to the world in the king bed, out like a light after the absolute marathon he’d forced you through.
you had just started scrubbing your teeth when the bathroom door creaked open.
you didn’t even have time to turn around before you felt a heavy weight press against your back.
naoya was still stark naked with his hair still messy from sleep, and before you could even say out a “good morning”, he grabbed your hips with both hands and jerked you backward so your ass was pressed firmly against his hard, morning stiff cock.
“think you’re getting away that easily?” he rasped against your ear.
you didn’t even get to pull the toothbrush out of your mouth before he slammed his hips forward without warning, no lube, no foreplay, just the sudden, heavy pressure of him sliding into your tight, already-sore slit.
“ah! f-fuck—!” you choked out, the toothbrush clattering into the sink as you doubled over, your hands bracing against the counter.
his dick was massive, filling you up instantly, stretching you out until you felt like you might snap.
“you’re mine,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he started to drive into you right there in the bathroom. “i’m not done with you yet.”
sure enough after an hour of him absolutely wrecking you against the bathroom vanity, you were left in a state of complete ruin.
your legs were shaking, your pussy felt like it had been through a car wash, and every muscle in your back were screaming in protest as you tried to even stand straight.
naoya, meanwhile, was glowing with a satisfied energy that made you want to claw his eyes out, if you had the strength.
when you finally left the hotel, the transition to the expo was pathetic.
naoya didn’t bother with a cab or a shuttle.
he literally walked through the lobby with his arm hooked firmly around your waist, his grip so possessive and tight that you couldn’t have pulled away if you tried.
he was practically carrying half your weight, leaning down every few seconds to whisper something lewd into your ear, making sure you felt every ounce of his arrogance.
“look at you,” he hissed, his thumb digging into your hipbone. “you’re so sore you can barely stand. you’re just my favorite little toy, and everyone here is going to know it just by looking at the way you’re struggling to keep up with me.”
you tried to snap back, but all that came out was a breathless, “fuck... off, naoya.”
when the two of you walked into the player lounge, the room went dead silent.
naoya didn’t give a shit. instead, he steered you straight to your booth, which, true to the organizers’ plan was right next to his.
he didn’t let you walk to your chair; he literally guided you, his hand sliding down to your ass to give it a firm squeeze before he shoved you into your seat.
he leaned over the small partition between your booths, his face inches from yours, looking like a king who had just conquered a new territory. “stay right there,” he commanded. “don’t talk to anyone. i’m watching you.”
you slumped into your chair, the soreness in your hips making you wince as you sat down, and you saw his eyes track the movement with a sick, satisfied smirk.
he knew exactly why you were hurting and he knew exactly what he’d done to you in that bathroom.
as he turned to his own setup, you saw him glance at his chat, which was already scrolling past, thousands of people realizing exactly why you were walking so slowly and why naoya looked like he was vibrating.
“yeah, she’s staying here,” he said, shooting you a sharp, hooded look. “she’s a bit tired today. i gave her a hell of a morning workout.”
the chat went into complete meltdown, and you could only lean your head against your monitor, while feeling your face burning, knowing you were well and truly trapped.
-> To have found you was the world's regret, not mine
trueform!ryomen sukuna x reader
summary: born with two too many limbs and faces, he was abandoned, left for the nature to bury him in a grave at the mere age of six. apparently, there was one enemy to the nature of the world, who seemed to go against every rule of survival; you.
warning/s: heian era, smut at the end (skipable), sukuna has two dicks, use of sukuna's stomach mouth, p in v, creampies, slight breeding kink, praise and degrading kink, overstimulation, aphrodisiacs, angst, mentions of blood, nearing death (no actual death though), sukuna's villain arc, he was a monster you'd never despise, growing up together, they were both doomed from the start, fluff so i don't end it all, sukuna using you as a weight for training
a/n: i have no words. this man awakens something inside of me.
The rumors had spread like wildfire.
The child born with too many eyes, too many limbs, had devoured his twin in the womb. A demon cloaked in human skin, they whispered. He was evil incarnate, an abomination that would only grow stronger if left unchecked. But killing him outright would be a sin too great for their souls to bear. So they left him to rot. On the desolate side of the country, where even the air could be considered poison, they abandoned him.
They thought they'd washed their hands clean.
They thought starvation would take care of what they couldn't.
But death didn't come as quickly as they had hoped.
Sukuna was nothing more than a husk of a boy now, his four arms limp at his sides, his ribs threatening to pierce through his skin with each shallow breath.
Nature, just as cruel as mankind, had left him no mercy.
And then you appeared.
"Hi,"
The sound was soft, almost too soft for his dulled senses to catch. He barely mustered the strength to crack open one eye, a faint glint of crimson meeting yours.
"What?" he rasped.
You didn't answer right away, instead stepping closer to the monster that the land itself seemed to despise. There was no hesitation in your movements, no fear, no disgust.
"You.. you're just like me," you murmured.
Sukuna's lower right eye twitched, barely enough to take you in. You were as battered as he was—maybe worse. Wounds marred your body, some barely crusting over due to the lack of vitamins, others oozing sluggishly with infection. Your skin looked like it could rip at any given moment, stretched too thin over bones that jutted out in sharp angles.
You looked truly pitiable.
But Sukuna didn't care. Or at least, that's what he thought.
He was going to die anyway. Forming a bond would be useless.
He scoffed, his head lolling back against the harsh, cracked tree he was leaning on, waiting for death to take him away at the mere age of six.
"We're both dying,"
You said what he couldn't, spoke his mind instead of plastering him with questions.
You were younger than him, yet knew such harsh reality to come.
Your lips quirked in something resembling a smile, though it faltered under the weight of your exhaustion.
The boy hummed in return.
With that, Sukuna let his eyes fall shut, deciding to fade out the world— and you— with it.
Hours later, a sharp scent cut through his haze.
Sweet.
Fruit.
His eyes snapped open. He turned his head and found you kneeling beside him, holding a piece of overripe fruit out to him.
"Eat," you simply said.
He snarled— or at least tried to— but his voice came out weak and hoarse, "Don't… pity me."
Your brows furrowed, frustration taking over you. Without a word, you leaned closer, your small hand pressing against his chest. His eyes widened, alarm breaking through his mind.
"What are you—"
Before he could stop you, you raised the fruit to his stomach mouth. Its sharp teeth parted instinctively, and before Sukuna could refuse again, you fed him.
Your fingers brushed against his canines, but you didn't flinch. You didn't so much as blink as the beastly maw devoured the offering, juice dribbling from its corners.
His lower eyes narrowed, glaring at you even as the sweet taste spread across his tongue.
"Stupid brat," he muttered, but his voice lacked any true hatred. Towards you, that is.
You didn't respond, only settling back into your spot beside him, already reaching into a cloth bag for more.
"Wh-what's your.. ah- your name?" you mused as you revealed another fruit to him, guiding it to his stomach.
Unlike him, the maw ate gratefully.
He seemed to think, his body relaxing at the feeling of it getting taken care of.
Truthfully, the boy didn't have a proper name. He was named Ryomen due to his two faces— that was all to it.
He grunted, "Sukuna."
You smiled, repeating the name. With a grin, you revealed your name to him.
And surprisingly, he did the same thing.
He repeated it.
This became your routine.
You, a ghost of a child, scavenged for what little life had to offer. Sukuna, the boy they had condemned as a monster, became your charge.
Each day, you'd sneak into villages, weaving through the shadows like smoke. You stole food, medicine, anything you could carry with your frail form, and brought it all to him.
You hardly ate yourself.
No one knew who you were, only that you'd often show up and steal relentlessly.
"That stupid brat! Don't let her get away next time; she needs to be punished properly!"
"Sinning at such a young age is so unfortunate. May she find the right path."
"—there's no right path for her! The devil's captured her soul— we should finally burn this brat for good!"
Sukuna could say the same about them.
Those 'saints' who left you with infection-littered wounds.
Those 'saints' who chased after you for simple fruit.
A little girl, with more bones than meat.
Was Sukuna really the disgrace of the world when this was the way other people thought of innocent life trying to survive?
Whatever. He didn't have the time to think about it.
Not when he'd hold you with his lower arms to stop your squirming.
He discovered reverse cursed technique at a very young age, which became good use. He'd heal you, acting as if he couldn't hear your sobs.
Sukuna's touch wasn't gentle, nor was it kind, but it was efficient. His hands, rough and calloused despite his young age, pressed against your frail frame, glowing faintly with cursed energy as it stitched together your wounds. He worked silently, his expression unreadable, but his lower eyes betrayed the tiniest flicker of something foreign. Something he wouldn't dare acknowledge.
"You cry too much," he muttered, his voice gruff as if to mask the faint twinge of unease your sobs caused him.
—that, unfortunately wasn't a lie. You'd cry a lot. So much, the beast wondered when you'd ever run out of tears.
But in no sense were you a dramatic little crybaby. You'd cry a lot, but not often. When you did, you usually couldn't stop it anymore, and it would go on for hours— the monster had no idea what to do in that case. He figured he wouldn't kill you for the simple act, since you were so useful.
But that weeping would go on his nerves. It replaced the warm feeling in his organs— the one sitting slightly beneath the sternum— with a cold one. It'd feel like it was clutching, singing a melody of helplessness.
That must've been his nerves, he figured.
You were annoying him, he figured.
You sniffled, your thin fingers clutching at his wrist. "hurts," you whimpered, your face streaked with dirt and tears.
And there it was again— that feeling. Something in his chest was crinkling together.
"Then stop getting caught, idiot," he replied, his tone harsher than he intended. He focused on his work, forcing himself to ignore the wetness in your eyes. "Be faster. Smarter."
"I am fast," you argued weakly, your lips trembling, "they're just... mean."
The feeling in his chest was getting worse. Sukuna frowned, it almost resembled to actual pain.
A rare snort escaped him, bitter and sharp. "The world's mean. Get used to it."
You didn't respond right away, your small body trembling under his hands as he finished patching you up. Finally, you spoke, your voice quiet, almost inaudible. "Why do you help me then? If the world's so mean?"
Sukuna froze for a moment, his hands hovering just above your skin. His crimson eyes narrowed as he stared at you, his jaw tightening.
"Because I don't like broken things," he said simply, his tone cold and dismissive. "they're useless."
You blinked up at him, your expression unreadable. "Then why not let me die?"
He didn't answer, couldn't answer. His lips pressed into a thin line as he pulled his hands back, the glow of cursed energy fading.
"You didn't let me die either. Now shut up and eat," he snapped, shoving a stolen piece of bread into your hands.
You obeyed, gnawing at the stale crust despite how it scratched at your throat. You were used to it by now.
Sukuna leaned back against his usual tree— the one he almost died on— his multiple arms folding across his chest. He stared at you as you ate, his gaze deciphering, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn't even want to admit existed.
"You're too small," he muttered after a while, breaking the silence.
You looked up, crumbs clinging to your lips. "Huh?"
"You're weak," he clarified, his tone blunt, "pathetic, even."
"Gee, thanks," you muttered, rolling your eyes.
"But," he continued, ignoring your sarcasm, "you're still alive. That means you're stubborn. Maybe too stubborn for your own good."
You tilted your head, watching him curiously. "And what about you? You're alive too."
He smirked faintly, a sharp, cruel thing that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's because I'm stronger than them. Stronger than everyone. I just haven't gotten the chance to prove it yet."
"Then why didn't you leave?" you asked, your voice soft, "If you're so strong, why didn't you leave this place? Why are you still here? Feeding off fruit instead of hunting the animals to the north."
His smirk faltered, his expression hardening. "Because I have something to prove," he grunted, "to them. To the people who left me here to rot. To everyone who thinks they can decide what I am."
He was going to prove that the place they abandoned him to was the reason he was going to turn into a real monster. His career shall start from the place his realization begun. He would tear them apart, and only after this, shall he enjoy his own brought food; his victims.
You didn't respond right away, your gaze dropping to the bread in your hands. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "I think you're just lonely."
His head snapped toward you, his red eyes narrowing dangerously. "What did you say?"
You met his glare head-on, your expression tired, and yet still stubborn, "I said you're lonely. That's why you don't want me to die. You don't want to be alone again."
For a moment, the air between you grew tense. Sukuna's hands twitched, his fingers curling into fists as if he were contemplating smashing your fragile frame into the dirt.
But he didn't.
Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes with a huff. "You talk too much," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation.
You smiled faintly, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite the exhaustion etched into your face. "And you don't talk enough."
Another silence fell between you, this one less heavy, less suffocating. The two of you sat there, side by side, two broken children in a world that had already decided you didn't belong.
But for now, you weren't alone.
Then days started to turn into weeks, and the weeks blurred into months.
Sukuna grew stronger, his body filling out with lean, wiry muscle as his cursed energy became sharper, more controlled. You were still frail, still weak, but you had learned to move like a shadow, to steal like a raven amongst the humans.
Sukuna didn't understand it. Didn't care to, at first. You were wasting your energy on a lost cause. You should've run far away from him, left him to rot like everyone else had.
But you hadn't. Didn't.
And that caused him to grow over the years.
He grew rapidly, mainly because of his genes— but his muscles weren't something he simply got. He earned them by training.
What to understand under training? Well— he used you as weight, most of the time. You sat on his back when he did pushups or his arm when he trained his biceps. You were useful to Sukuna; that's why he kept you around.
Definitely for no other reason, though.
Nope.
Not because your voice relaxed him, lulled him to sleep.
Not because you smiled at him the day both of you were supposed to be left as nothing more than rotten bodies in this cruel world.
Not because you were so fearless of his anatomy— of him.
Not because you cared for him, so unnaturally much.
Not because you were a complete idiot for doing so.
And to keep things around meant taking care of them, unfortunately. He couldn't risk you dying on him. Not that he'd feel guilty.. sad or anything, but you were useful, could steal. And besides, he had spend a lot of years together with you. You'd grown into young adults together. He got used to your company.
So he never wasted any time when he healed your wounds. You usually had a lot of them, considering villages were basically hunting for you by now.
You even found a little shelter, good enough to hold the two of you. It was an abandoned temple, plants overgrowing the place— but it was enough.
The villagers were growing restless, their whispers turning to shouts, their torches raised.
"The girl's still out there!"
"She steals more than she can eat— she's bringing offerings to the devil himself!"
"We have to end this before they destroy us all!"
Sukuna listened to their cries from the shadows.
"Let them come," he muttered, his voice a low growl.
You glanced at him, worried, "Sukuna…"
He turned to you, his smirk sharp and merciless. "They wanted a monster," he grinned, "I'll show them one."
And for the first time, you weren't sure if you could stop him.
From the day Sukuna decided to show himself to the villages, things changed.
You didn't know what he was doing there. He wouldn't tell you, and you didn't ask. But every evening, without fail, he'd return to the little temple the two of you had claimed. Bloodied.
Always bloodied.
It was never his blood.
His steps would echo against the cracked stones, his frame filling the entrance. He wouldn't say a word, just slump down into his usual spot, waiting for you to do what you always did.
You'd kneel beside him, a bucket of water already at the ready, and begin cleaning him. Your hands worked methodically, scrubbing away the blood that painted his arms, his chest, his face. It didn't matter how much there was or how long it took— you cleaned it all, sitting in silence as the water turned red.
He never flinched. Never winced.
You didn't ask what had happened, and he didn't offer an explanation.
This was your routine now.
You decided you didn't like it.
You were getting left out. He was going cold— you couldn't care less if it were towards the village and the world only— but what about you? You wanted to hear his voice, to talk to him, to be with him.
It was only weeks later that you began to notice them. The marks.
The first time you saw one, it was faint, almost invisible against his skin. A single black line curling along the biceps that met the shoulder. You didn't say anything, even as more began to appear, making their way up his limbs, across his chest, spreading like a dark disease.
You knew what they were.
You didn't need to ask.
Each mark was a crime— a sin carved into his flesh, branding him for the world to see. Murder. Destruction. Chaos.
You knew that.
He knew you knew.
At first, he acted like it didn't matter. Sukuna was stubborn like that, always pretending nothing could touch him. But you saw it, the way his gaze would flicker to you when he thought you weren't looking. The way his hands sometimes twitched when you got too close, as if he expected you to pull away.
He was scared.
Scared that you, out of all people, would abandon him.
But you didn't.
You didn't say a word when the marks began to spread across his shoulders, his back, his neck. You didn't flinch when the blood he came back with multiplied. You didn't recoil when his smile started to look more like a snarl, his eyes gleaming with something you didn't want to name.
You didn't support what he was doing.
But you would never stop him.
For the world had done the same to him.
Because no one stopped when they left him to rot, when they whispered behind their hands and turned their backs and called him a monster before he even had a chance to be anything else.
Because even though you didn't agree with him, even though you hated the blood and the way he was slipping further and further away from whatever humanity he had left…
You would never abandon him.
So you stayed.
Even as the marks spread like a curse, even as the villagers' cries grew louder, even as Sukuna's laughter began to echo like something bad had won against the world, you stayed.
Because that's what you'd always done.
And maybe that's why, when the marks started creeping toward his face, curling along his jaw and across his lower eyes, Sukuna never stopped coming back.
No matter how bloody he was.
No matter how much darker he seemed.
He always came back.
To you.
After Sukuna had received all possible markings on his body, you found yourselves wandering off the place it all started with.
He'd proven himself.
It was time to take over his own estate now. He shall be the god amongst the mere humans whom despised him, with you by his side.
Sukuna found an estate on a whim.
It was a massive structure, sprawling across the countryside like a symbol of decadence. It belonged to a king, or at least someone who thought themselves important. Sukuna didn't care who— it didn't matter. All he saw was an opportunity.
He stalked through the gates, dragging you behind him by the hand like a silent shadow. You didn't ask questions, didn't protest. You trusted him. Perhaps a bit too much.
He wasn't sure what pissed him off more; the way you clung to his side so willingly or the fact that you made him hesitate.
Sukuna had stormed into that estate ready to kill— prepared to cut through guards, nobles, anyone who dared stand in his way. But the moment he stepped inside, the warmth of your hand in his made him pause. Just for a second.
He grumbled, the sound low and guttural in his throat.
"Brat," he muttered under his breath.
You blinked up at him, confused, but before you could ask, three of his arms moved. Two hands covered your ears, and the third wrapped protectively around your head, shielding and blinding you from what he was about to do.
The remaining arm was the one he used to guide his slashes, cutting through flesh and bone as if it were paper.
Guards rushed at him, swords raised, and fell just as quickly. Blood splattered the polished floors, the walls, the pristine decor meant to show off the king's wealth. Sukuna moved like a storm, calculated and ruthless, cutting down anyone who dared oppose him.
But there were some who didn't fight.
Some dropped to their knees without question, trembling as they bowed their heads.
Sukuna's grin widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.
"Swear your lives to me," he commanded, his voice a deep, menacing growl that echoed through the halls, "pledge your loyalty, or join the rest of them."
And they did.
One after another, they vowed their lives to him, fear etched into every syllable. Those were the ones he let live.
By the time he finished, the estate was his.
Blood soaked the floors, the stench of death heavy in the air, but it was done. Sukuna had claimed his place.
Servants began arriving the next day, desperate for shelter. They came from villages he'd decimated, from towns that whispered his name with equal parts fear and reverence. They gave their lives to him willingly, swearing fealty in exchange for protection.
Because that's what you had always done.
There was one habit Sukuna had carried with him since childhood— a strange, unspoken thing neither of you dared to label or even fully acknowledge. Whatever it was between you two, it wasn't something the world could define.
Certainly not a couple. That wasn't the right word. No.
But also… not not that.
It didn't matter. No one dared lay a thought on it.
The habit in question? Sukuna couldn't sleep unless you were right there. Not just near him, but with him. On him, preferably.
From the time you were small, he'd insist you lay against his chest, your frail frame curled up against him like you were the only shield he needed. As you grew, it became more than that— skin to skin contact. He craved it, though he'd rather rot in hell than admit it.
When you'd press your cheek against him, limbs tangled together as if the world wasn't constantly trying to tear you apart, Sukuna could actually relax. When your warmth pressed into his, he could let his many eyes close, feel his breathing even out. He swore he didn't care about the way your fingers would clutch at him in your sleep, or how you'd bury your face in the crook of his neck.
Didn't care that you drooled on him, for God's sake.
He definitely didn't admire that.
But there were nights when you'd wake up to find him staring at you, his eyes soft in a way you rarely saw. And he'd smirk, teasingly so, just enough to throw you off.
"You drooled all over me again," he'd mutter, pretending to be annoyed as he wiped at his skin, though the smug tilt of his mouth betrayed him.
You'd groan, shoving at his chest, "Then stop using me as a pillow."
"Who's using who?" he'd reply, wrapping his arms tighter around you so you couldn't escape.
It was stupid. Pointless. But also… it wasn't.
Because in those moments, when it was just the two of you and the rest of the world could burn for all you cared, Sukuna wasn't the bloodied monster that came home to you. And you weren't the ghost of a child stealing scraps to survive. (Which, frankly, you didn't need to anymore, since Sukuna took charge of that. However, the villages contained a.. feeling.. you liked to experience. The bits of humanity. Sukuna didn't stop you, for he didn't understand, but he trusted you.)
There was once, when Sukuna had never experienced you like this. Not once in all the years he'd known you.
You came back from the village as usual, empty-handed this time, but without so much as a scratch on you. At first, he thought nothing of it— maybe you'd been lucky, maybe the villagers were slacking, maybe...
But then, you didn't say a word. Not one.
You were always the one to start conversations. Always the one filling the empty silence between the two of you with your endless chatter, your stubborn questions, your little quips that only made him smirk. So why the hell were you quiet now?
It irritated him.
"Oi," Sukuna barked, his sharp tone bouncing off the temple walls, "say something."
You didn't respond.
He narrowed his eyes, his arms crossing over his broad chest. This was weird. Really weird. Then he got a good look at your face, and something about it made his stomach twist, and the feeling in his chest cold.
You looked sad.
Why did you look sad? You weren't supposed to look like that. That wasn't you.
"Stop making that face," he snapped, scowling to cover the strange unease rising in his chest.
You still didn't respond, huffing and walking away to another room— that definitely was not the one you'd share with Sukuna. For mere sleeping habits, obviously.
Then he noticed you weren't eating either. That was the final straw. Sukuna was no saint— far from it— but when he was half-dead, starving, and barely able to move, you'd shoved food down his throat whether he wanted it or not. You fed him, cared for him, even when he didn't deserve it.
So maybe, he thought, he should do the same for you.
Yes. Yes, that was the answer.
Of course, Sukuna had never been great with the whole 'gentle' thing. Or 'patient.' Or 'subtle.'
So when you didn't eat the dried meat he shoved into your hands, he huffed and decided to take matters into his own hands.
Literally.
"Open your damn mouth," he growled, his lower arms grabbing your face with surprising force. Servants around the room stilled, their eyes widening. They knew you as the King's treasure— they never expected him to care, whatsoever.
You blinked up at him, startled, but still didn't say a word.
"Don't just stare at me— eat!" he barked, attempting to shove the food toward your mouth. When your lips remained stubbornly closed, his frustration boiled over, "Fine, you wanna be a brat? Then I shall make you—"
Without thinking, Sukuna grabbed your jaw, prying your mouth open with way too much force. His grip was rough, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he tried to shove the food in.
"Stop being so damn stupid—!"
Before any of the shocked servants could even dare to say anything, your muffled protest and wide eyes finally registered in his brain. He froze mid-action, realizing he was practically choking you.
"..Oh."
He pulled his hands back abruptly, the dried meat dropping to the ground between you. You coughed a little, your eyes watering, and for a brief moment, Sukuna actually felt awkward.
Which pissed him off even more.
"Whatever," he grumbled, crossing his arms again and glaring at the wall, "you're lucky I even bothered, fool."
You finally spoke then, your voice soft and hoarse from disuse. "…Sukuna?"
"What?"
Your lips trembled, and you looked up at him with that same sad expression that made his chest ache. "Thank you."
He scoffed, turning his head away so you couldn't see the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck. "Don't thank me. Just eat next time."
But you didn't.
And Sukuna, for all his glory, didn't know how to fix you.
And that terrified him.
He didn't know what was wrong, didn't know how to make you better, and the longer you stayed like this— silent, withdrawn, not you— the more it ate away at him. He wasn't used to fear, not like this, and it pissed him off.
So the next time you went into the village, he came with you.
It was a rational decision, he told himself. If he could just see what was going on, maybe he could figure out how to fix it. Plus, he'd make sure nothing happened to you while you were out.
The villagers, of course, noticed immediately. Sukuna wasn't exactly subtle. A hulking figure with four arms and marks that practically screamed danger didn't exactly blend into the background.
This was no longer just you, the lone thief darting through shadows.
No.
This was you and Sukuna, the two of you together.
A pair.
You were the reason Sukuna had survived this long. He knew that. Knew that now the villagers would too. They'd hunt you harder, piece together the truth of how you'd kept him alive, how you'd made him the monster they feared.
He didn't care.
He wasn't going to leave your side anyway.
You were safest with him. No one would dare lay a finger on you while he was there. That was the message he sent, loud and clear, as he walked beside you through the village, your hand clasped firmly in his.
But then he saw it.
The way your expression shifted.
You stopped, your gaze snagged on a group of children sitting in the dirt, their little hands busy smearing bright colors inside simple lines drawn on scraps of parchment. They were laughing, giggling, so blissfully unaware of the two of you.
Your frown deepened.
And that's when Sukuna realized.
This— this— was the reason for your depressive episode.
He froze, staring at you for a moment before he let out a loud, echoing cackle. He laughed so hard his sides ached, his upper hands clutching his stomach while his lower ones rested on his hips.
"That's what's got you sulking?" he sneered, "This? A bunch of brats smearing colors like idiots?"
You turned to him, cheeks hot with embarrassment, lips tugged into a pout. "Shut up."
He barked out a low, mocking laugh, leaning closer as his sharp teeth glinted. "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous of that? You wanna crawl around in the dirt and finger-paint too? What's next, you gonna cry about it? Pathetic."
You huffed, crossing your arms with a glare. "Hey! I haven't cried about such things since.. forever now— you can't bring that up!"
But you weren't mad.
Just pouty.
And he found that absolutely hilarious.
Back at the estate, though, Sukuna couldn't shake the image of your face in the village. That look of quiet longing, of sadness. It stuck with him, crawling under his skin until he couldn't ignore it anymore.
So, begrudgingly, he thought about it. Really thought about it.
And then, with a dramatic sigh, he sat down beside you, crossing his lower arms over his lap while the upper ones gestured at his body.
"Here," he said gruffly, as if this were a full sentence made to understand immediately.
You blinked at him, confused. "What?"
"My marks," he muttered, already annoyed at how awkward he felt, "use them. Color inside the lines or whatever. Just— stop looking like that. It's annoying."
Your mouth fell open in surprise, and he immediately regretted it. "Don't make a big deal out of it," he snapped, scowling, "if it'll stop you from sulking, then fine. Go ahead. You can even add new ones if you want."
Your face lit up, a spark of your usual self finally flickering back to life. "Really?"
"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?" Sukuna grumbled, pretending to be annoyed even as relief washed over him, "Just don't mess it up."
You grabbed a piece of charcoal from your stash with a grin, leaning closer to him. "Don't worry, S'kuna. I'll make you beautiful."
He rolled his eyes.
"To think of it, you're already really beautiful.."
He scoffed, his lips curling up, "I am no such thing."
"To me, you are."
"..."
Your relationship was fine. There wasn't much else you could say about it. You weren't ready to ruin anything, and being in his arms made you content enough.
But there was this constant urge to have more.
You didn't understand these feelings fully, but you did know there were times when you wanted to please him desperately.
That's why you started training. A lot.
Obviously, you'd never live up to the King himself, but there was no denying the fact that you did… bloom. You didn't run anymore— not when you were able to take out people on your own.
And while you did all of this with the intention of keeping yourself safe, you somehow got another reward out of it.
His praise.
Your guilty pleasure.
You tried not to let it show, but you were desperate for it. Almost like a dog wagging its tail, ready for a reward after performing a trick.
And while Sukuna hadn't noticed that you specifically craved his praise, he had noticed that you'd grown a lot more obedient. You'd follow his orders without snarky remarks, without hesitation.
Take eating, for example.
Back then, Sukuna would've been fuming because, despite your circumstances and how you grew up, you were a picky eater. And Sukuna had actually been trying his best to break that habit.
Now? Now you ate without another word. No sarcastic quips. No fights. No using the King of Curses as your personal climbing material to escape his four arms.
Nope.
Just you, grimacing after each bite of whatever questionable food you'd been handed.
Sukuna was confused.
Hence why you didn't get the praise you'd been so desperately hoping for.
Well, fuck you, you cunt. What did I eat this fucking piece of shit for?
As you sat picking at a particularly unappealing piece of food, Sukuna finally snapped.
"Alright," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest, all four of them. "What's your deal?"
You blinked up at him, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb with me." His eyes narrowed, glowing faintly in the dim light. "You've been acting weird. Eating whatever garbage you're given, training like a lunatic, not mouthing off— what's going on with you?"
Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your food. "I'm just… trying to pull my weight, that's all."
"Bullshit," he said flatly.
You flinched, your grip tightening on your fork.
Sukuna leaned forward, "Out with it," he demanded. "what are you trying to prove?"
"I'm not—"
"Yes, you are."
You hesitated, biting your lip, and Sukuna's frustration grew. He hated when you shut him out.
"I just…" You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to make you proud, is all."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable.
And then, to your utter shock, he let out a low, rumbling laugh.
"That's it?" he said, his tone mocking but not mean, "You want to make me proud? You're such an idiot."
Your face burned with embarrassment, and you opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna cut you off.
"Listen," he begun, "You don't need to break yourself to impress me. You're already here, are you not? That's enough."
Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked up at him, your eyes wide.
"Now eat," he barked, his tone snapping back to its usual gruffness. "And stop making that stupid face. It's annoying."
A small grin tugged at your lips.
"Yes, your Highness," you said, mockingly formal as you took a big, dramatic bite of your food.
Sukuna rolled his eyes but didn't bother hiding the smirk that spread across his face.
When letters started to come in, no one really knew how to address you.
You weren't his queen. You weren't his wife. You weren't his servant, and you certainly weren't his concubine.
You were you.
A force unlike anything the world had ever seen. The only soul who dared to hold Sukuna's gaze without fear, who could make him snarl one moment and laugh the next.
If there was one thing everyone knew, it was this; Sukuna respected you. A respect so profound that it bordered on reverence— something not even gods themselves could hope to achieve.
One day, another letter arrived.
It was addressed to you, though the sender didn't dare write your name. Instead, it bore a simple title,
The Crow.
The name wasn't unfamiliar. After all, it wasn't far from the truth. You had once been the solitary figure scavenging food for Sukuna, feeding him when the world left him to rot. Always flitting in and out of danger, quick and clever, much like the bird they now associated you with.
Sukuna scoffed at the name when he looked over your shoulder, your legs dangling off of his lap, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips. "The Crow, hm? How poetic."
You rolled your eyes. "What else would they call me? It's better than 'Bearer of Death' or 'The Pest', no?"
He barked out a laugh, leaning back on his throne, "I'd kill them myself if they dared to write something that pathetic."
The letter was an invitation from a village requesting your presence. It was worded carefully, dripping with false flattery and desperate pleas.
"They need you," Sukuna read aloud mockingly. "Right. As if this isn't a trap."
You knew it, and so did he.
But still, you folded the letter neatly and tucked it away.
"I'm going."
Sukuna's expression darkened instantly. His gaze bore into you, sharp and unrelenting. "No, you're not."
You raised a brow, "You're not my keeper."
"Correct. I'm your king," he snapped, hands finding their way to your waist, almost as if silently stopping you from an escape, "and I forbid it."
"Then come with me,"
He stilled, his gaze narrowing as he weighed your words.
"if it's a trap," you continued, "they won't expect you. In that case, we— you don't have to worry about dinner tonight."
Sukuna grunted, a smirk blooming on his face, "You're insufferable."
"So I've heard."
The two of you arrived at the village a few days later, Sukuna at your side.
The air was thick with unease as villagers scattered like mice at the sight of him. His reputation preceded him, the stories of his cruelty and power leaving no room for doubt.
What confused them most was him.
Why was he here? Only you were invited.
The village leader greeted you hesitantly, his voice trembling as he spoke.
"We… we didn't expect both of you to come."
"Clearly," Sukuna drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. His lower arms crossed over his chest while the upper ones rested at his sides, ready to strike if needed. "You thought you'd lure her here and what? Take her from me? Did you think you could threaten me in this way?"
The leader paled, stumbling over his words. "N-no, my Lord, we—"
"Enough." Sukuna's voice silenced the man immediately, "Speak. Why did you call her here?"
The village leader fumbled, his gaze flickering nervously between you and Sukuna. "W-We need her help," he stammered, voice quivering as he addressed the King. "A newborn… was recently b-born here." His words faltered, his fear evident as he glanced up at the King, "He's… different. B-Born with two faces."
The man swallowed hard, his trembling hands clasped together in desperation. "He's sick. None of the doctors outside the village will touch him," he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his plea. Then, his eyes turned to you, filled with a desperate kind of hope, "We heard the stories— how she saved you— and we thought…"
"You thought wrong," Sukuna growled.
But before he could end the man's life with a single swipe, you stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm.
"Let me handle this," you said softly.
His gaze flickered to you, his jaw tightening. After a long moment, he relented, stepping back with a low grunt.
You let the villager take you to the hut where the newborn was.
You knelt before the makeshift crib, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out to the newborn. He was tiny, frail— two faced.
One face contained of nothing more than fear, whilst the other cried out in pain. Yet, when your arms wrapped around his fragile body, he quieted, though soft whimpers still escaped his lips.
"Shh, little one," you murmured, your voice as gentle as a breeze. Sukuna watched silently from the corner, his arms crossed.
Carefully, you checked the baby's temperature, your fingers brushing over his small, fevered forehead. You examined his tiny body for signs of illness, taking note of the unnatural features that made the villagers so fearful. His two faces twisted slightly as he squirmed in your arms, but he didn't cry out again.
Turning to the trembling leader and a few others standing nearby, you, usually being considered nice, spoke firmly, "He needs specific care. His fever has to be brought down immediately. You'll need fruits rich in vitamins— papayas, bananas, oranges. Vegetables too. Carrots, spinach. And a steady supply of milk." Your gaze hardened, daring them to question you. "If you fail to provide him with these, he won't survive the month."
The leader nodded rapidly, almost stumbling over his own feet as he rushed to fulfill your demands.
Meanwhile, the baby's tiny hand gripped weakly at the fabric of your sleeve, his innocent gaze drifting up to meet yours. His other face, half-formed but expressive, mirrored the longing in his eyes. He clung to you like you were the only safe haven in his fragile world.
But then his gaze shifted, catching sight of Sukuna looming nearby. The King's lower set of eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his lips twitching into something between a pout and a scowl. The baby's hand hesitated, releasing its hold as if sensing Sukuna's displeasure.
You glanced at Sukuna, raising an eyebrow at his ridiculous expression. What was he? Jealous? Of a baby?
Biting back a laugh, you turned your attention back to the infant, cradling him closer and pressing a kiss to his tiny forehead. "Don't mind him," you whispered, though loud enough for Sukuna to hear, "he's just grumpy because he's not the center of attention for once."
Sukuna scoffed, his arms tightening across his chest. "Tch. Keep your bratty comments to yourself."
You grinned at him, unbothered by his tone. "Aw, is the mighty King pouting? You're really going to compete with a newborn now?"
"I do not pout."
"Oh, you absolutely do," you teased, hugging the baby close for emphasis. The infant snuggled into you, his soft breaths warm against your skin. He reminded you so much of Sukuna, except Sukuna's beginnings had been so much harsher, so much crueler.
Your smile softened as you glanced over at the man, "You were like this once, you know," you said quietly, "but worse off. No one held you like this, did they?"
"That's irrelevant," he muttered.
You turned back to the baby, rocking him gently. "Not to me,"
Sukuna didn't respond, but he didn't look away, either. Even in his silence, you knew he was watching, remembering.
He hated this.
Hated the way they looked at you, as if you were their savior. As if they had any right to ask for your help after the world had abandoned you. For no reason, might he add. You were not the devil's incarnation, you hadn't been a bad child, hell, for all he knew, you could be considered an angel. And yet, you were in the same state as he was the very day you two met. The world treated you so harshly for your mere existence. And Sukuna hadn't forgotten.
He stayed silent, letting you work.
When the day ended, you returned to his side, hands stained with herbs. He said nothing.
And yet, the villagers had the audacity to offer you flowers— an attempt at gratitude.
They were beautiful.
They promised you they smelled even better.
Who were you to decline?
But beauty has a cost.
The flowers— so innocent-looking, so sweet-smelling— were anything but.
The trouble began not long after.
At first, Sukuna noticed how clingy you became, latching onto him even more than usual. You'd run your hands through his hair (despite his scowls and harsh hushes), trace the tattoos along his arms, or rest your head on his chest longer than necessary. He didn't mind— not that he'd admit it— but it was odd. It was unlike you to be so needy.
Then, just as suddenly, you pulled away.
Your skin flushed, your breathing uneven. You seemed distant, yet restless, quirking around like a lost little thing.
And in the blink of an eye, you stormed off to the room you shared with him. No explanations. Just silence. The servants barely had time to question your behavior. You disappeared before they could even open their mouths.
Sukuna pretended not to care. You were probably sulking, he told himself. Maybe something the villagers said had gotten under your skin. But the longer you stayed locked in that room, the more agitated he became.
He wasn't going to check on you— not immediately, anyway. That would mean admitting he cared, and he wasn't about to give anyone that satisfaction.
Instead, he sent servants.
The first returned looking pale, as if they'd just seen a ghost.
"What's wrong with her?" Sukuna growled, standing at an intimidating height.
The servant stammered, failing to form a coherent response.
Useless.
A single strike ended their misery, and Sukuna turned to the next.
One by one, the servants were sent to your room, and one by one, they returned looking worse for wear— shaken, nervous, almost beaten down mentally. None of them gave him a straight answer. And that annoyed him beyond hell and earth.
By the third corpse, he was growing impatient.
Finally, one brave— or perhaps foolish— servant stepped forward, bowing low to avoid her wrath. "My Lord… it's not our place to say. You… you should see for yourself. But she… she needs time. Give her a moment, then go to her."
The King's eyes darkened, his lips curling into a snarl. Time? You needed time? For what?
Still, the servant's trembling voice and the hint of genuine concern in their words stopped him from storming in immediately.
"Fine," he grunted, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand, "half an hour. If she's not better by then, I’ll deal with it myself."
The servant bowed deeply, sharing a concerned look before retreating as quickly as they could.
And so, Sukuna waited.
What was wrong with you? And why the hell hadn't you told him?
Inside the room, you were fighting for your life. You were left dizzy and overwhelmed. You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The sensation was maddening, your body betraying you in ways you couldn't explain.
Your abdomen burned. It felt too hot for your body, and you were desperate. Desperate to get rid of it, to loosen it, to feel pleasure.
You cursed under your breath, glaring at the damned flowers on the bedside table. They were the culprits. Had to be. Their sweet, heady scent lingered in the air, mocking you.
And then it dawned on you.
They were aphrodisiacs.
You yelped, mewling in, what you could consider, pain. Pain of the lack of touch.
One thought after another paced into your mind, but the one that stung the most must've been the simple question; why?
Why did the villagers do this? Hadn't you helped them well enough? Weren't you good?
Were they still, after having received your help, desperate to damage the King's property? In order to weaken him?
You scoffed at the thought. Yeah, as if.
The more disgusting thought probably had to be that they weren't in disgust of you, no, they wanted you to reproduce. They wanted more of Sukuna's kind, for the man also had worshippers, not only enemies. And this village had been such as those, you hadn't missed their eyes lingering on the King's large form.
What had you done to deserve this?
You'd have to tell Sukuna eventually.
And that would mean the death of the villagers.
You didn't want that, either.
But it was only a matter of time until said King would find out about your condition.
You thought, maybe he'd find out by the use of his enhanced senses. He'd smell the aphrodisiacs, and know what had happend to you. Or maybe he already knew these type of flowers, and he'd be able to tell by the mere look of them.
What you hadn't expected was for him to find you hopelessly humping a pillow.
The one placed in the bed you shared with him.
You had thought he went hunting— and no other servants dared to enter his room without knocking and getting an approval.
And for his sake, you would've been embarassed to see him standing there, his upper arms crossed, his expression fading from surprised to.. amused? Whatever. The King could never be surprised, could he?
You would've been embarassed, if it hadn't been for the high effects these flowers had casted upon you.
You felt like you were in heat.
You couldn't stop. A mess of whimpers, mewls and moans was what you were.
"..m-m ngh- haa- 'm s-so.. s.. sorry— 'kuna—!"
To Sukuna, you were a sight worth millions.
What could he say? Your tits, once hidden behind your kimono, were out, bouncing along to your hopeless humping. Your hair was messy, your eyes droopy, but open enough for him to catch your blown out pupils— not to mention the fact that you looked up at him as if he were your savior. Your breaths came out shallow, and your moans.. your moans were what he could consider a masterpiece. It only added to his own arousal when you moaned his name. Well, petname now, apparently.
He wanted to touch you.
To demolish you himself.
"They've drugged you. I see. Their village shall burn to the grounds—"
"N-no! -kuna p-please don't leave meee!—" you panted, desperately rubbing your clit now.
He wasn't planning to leave, however hearing you beg for it was a little cherry on top. He smirked, nearing you as he yanked your hand off of your poor bud.
And shit, the way you looked up at him— your eyes glossy, partly embarassed and partly so deep in the haze of your own arousal.
His other hand tangled into your hair, snapping your head up to look up at him.
He spoke lowly, his voice a mere rasp,
"Tell me what you desire, my dove."
"You."
No hesitation.
Well fuck, if that didn't make Sukuna rock hard, then he'd be doomed.
"Hm. Stop your humping on that thing. Come here."
His hold on your hair guided you up. You whimpered, the loss of friction and close release could've been enough of a reason for you to have started sobbing.
"Your body is truly pathetic. You can't even withstand a mere aphrodisiac. How are you to survive in this world without me by your side?"
He yanked you up, holding you with his lower arms by your thighs as he pressed you to the nearest wall. You whined, the little clothing you still owned slipping down your form, leaving you fully naked. He was already shirtless, never fond of any tops.
"Hm. A day ago you would've cried from embarrassment. How amusing."
That's when you felt it.
Your cunt was directly pressed to his stomach.
Exactly where his maw was located at.
He wasted no time, slithering the thick muscle from your thighs to your chasm, and into your folds. The dip was delicious, spreading your arousal all around as it began slipping inside of you.
Sukuna's actual mouth acted with thoughts, for he was the one controlling its actions.
His maw, however, acted on pure instinct. That's why on the day you fed him, it wasn't his actual mouth accepting your offer, but his maw, which knew what he had needed.
And it knew what you needed, now, because it was pumping inside of you like a real dick, stretching you out in ways that should hurt if it werent for the mixture of his spit and your liquid.
You moaned loudly, holding into the man as you squirmed. The canines of his maw brushed over your plush thighs, trying to savour your taste.
It was eating you.
Literally.
You gasped when you felt Sukuna's free hands groping your breasts harshly, running his thumbs over your hardened buds.
He pinched them.
And you cried out. Loudly, at that. It hurt, the overstimulation just adding to it as your breasts swelled.
And then he spat on them, meeting your druggen, almost passed out gaze with his grin.
His tongue, still pushing inside of you as if it were to devour you at any moment, was originally going to make you cum.. but..
"S-stop- 'kuna please! E- haah- enough!"
Said man stopped immediately, his tongue stilling inside of you, your walls pulsating around him.
"What is it, brat? You haven't even had your release yet. Don't tell me it's already too much."
You shook your head, blushing as your hands went around his head. He shot you a confused look before you leaned in to press your lips on his.
He was taken aback. A grunt left his lips as he accepted his fate, though he seemed to still, as if not knowing what to do.
But you giggled, actually giggled at him.
"Want you 'kuna. W-want you to feel good too,"
"Don't be silly. You will wither trying to take me."
"'n y-you'll just heal me then, no?"
"..."
He grunted, removing his tongue from you before placing you on the bed.
You looked so beautiful, spread out like a flower blooming. Your cunt was glistening, spread and messy from his tongue.
And yet, you had the audacity to feel shy at the moment.
Using your hands to cover what's his.
"Remove your hands at once, or I will not take any mercy on you, brat." He snarled, slowly pushing his pants down.
You obeyed.
And there he was.
There they were.
Standing at proud, over-human-sized inches, both of his cocks, glistening with leaking pre-cum.
He was right. You would wither trying to take him.
"Excited already?"
Oh, yeah.
How did you not notice the way you basically went on all fours within seconds, looking at his cocks as if they were treasures.
"S..so big—" your hands wrapped around his lower cock, experimentally giving a few pumps. The King, to all his glory, grunted, his eyebrows furrowed.
"So desperate, my dove. Tch."
Your mouth fell open as you went to take his upper dick, kitty licking over his tip, tasting his cum.
Fuck.
It didn't take long for you to wrap your mouth around his tip, pumping his other rock-hard, desperate cock.
And maybe, he was just as desperate— his hand wrapped around your neck, slowly inching his dick deeper into you.
You could cum on spot for what he said next;
"Good girl. F-fuck."
Not only did the big, bad King just do what you yearned for the whole time (praise you), but he also had stuttered (whimpered, really. But you'll take what you get).
You moaned around his large shaft, bobbing your head when you noticed you wouldn't be able to go any deeper. Tears were running down your cheeks, sobs escaping your full throat.
Your fingers engulfed him, your thumb rubbing his leaking tip while the other hand stroked his base, feeling the vein running underneath.
He was so perfect.
During your moment of bliss, you barely noticed his cussing, let alone his demands.
"G-get off— woman."
But you didn't.
You couldn't.
And he couldn't stop you, for the pleasure was way too great.
With that, he shot, not one, but two big loads onto you, one running inside of your throat and the other outside your throat, soaking your skin with white, sticky cum.
You were eager to swallow, and even more eager to continue, though your mouth was starting to get sore and tired.
"E-enough- for fuck's sake- off!" He groaned as he pulled you off forcefully, your mouth still connected to his dick by the mixture of cum and saliva.
Well fuck, if that wasn't a sight..
His dick remained hard, and you wondered how many releases he needed in order to soften.
"Real fuckin' minx. You think you can take both?"
You shook your head harshly, sobbing at the mere thought.
"Backing out? Already? How pathetic. I haven't even got the real chance to please you."
Without another word, he threw you on your back, gripping your legs and pressing them against your chest— literally folding you.
"'Kuna- Kuna haa!—" you cried out as you felt his tongue dive into your cunt again, his tip prodding the place right under your hole.
"Ca- can't take bo- ahh- both! Please!—"
He hummed, his tongue retreating.
"I suppose you can't, no."
"Huh?— Ah—!"
He entered you without another warning, without any time to adjust.
He was big.
He hurt.
But you did give him your promise that it'd be okay. And he said he'd heal you. So it should be okay if you could feel your walls clampering down on him, begging for a release and for him to stop his torture.
The pain easily mixed with the pleasure when he started thrusting into you, holding your legs with two of his arms, the other two keeping him steady above you. His other tip kept nudging your clit, making you cry out everytime your nerves got any kind of friction.
"Mhh. Such a glorious sight you are, my dove. So vulnerable.. can't even handle one cock, how are you ever supposed to take me?"
Ever?
You would've questioned it, if it weren't for the drool running down your lips, and the tears straining your cheeks. He chuckled, leaning down to you to lick away your tears and saliva.
His chest steadied your legs in position, and he used this as an advantage to run his hands all over your body.
You cried out when you felt multiple sharp teeth nibbling at your skin, some drawing blood, some sucking your skin.
He'd summoned mouths over his hands.
Moaning, you squirmed beneath him, his thrusts brutal enough to send you flying if it weren't for his grip.
"Ngh- ha- c-can't.. g'na cum-"
"Go on, little one. C-cum- fuck-" his breaths where heavy, and you could tell by his twitching cock inside of you that he was close aswell.
"Gonna f-fill you up, gonna fill you up so good— fuck- stop squeezing me like that, wo-hah- woman-!"
You came with a loud scream of his name, him following curtly after.
Hot, sticky cum filled your walls as he pulled out, his upper cock having spurt cum aswell. It coated your abdomen, up to your swollen breasts.
Shit.
"Haa- n-no! Enough-!" You yelped as you felt his fingers back in your hole.
He scoffed, "You're wasting my cum. Keep. It. In."
"Y-yeah as if I could do thaaa- holy shit!-" he filled you to the brim, knuckles deep inside of you, shoving every bit of his sticky substance into you.
"'Kunaaaaaa-"
"Fuck. Fine. I'll let this slip this time."
His hands hovered over the open wounds he'd caused, though he really rather looked smug. He healed you, fixing all what had to be fixed while hoisting you up into his arms.
"..this time?.."
He tilted his head.
"You didn't think this was a one time thing, did you?"
Oh but you did.
Whoops.
Blushing, you looked away.
"I- I don't want to be a concubine."
"..You're a fool to believe I'd consider you as such."
Silence.
Oh. Wait. That meant?..
"You know I'll still end those who hurt you, right?"
"Yeah."
He hummed, "Very well, I'll be on my way tomorrow. If you wish to follow, you are free to do so."
Silence.
"Sukuna?"
"Brat."
"Just.. spare the children and their parents, will you? They just—" you stopped, sighing as you nuzzled further into him, "—they.. he reminded me of you. You were like him too, once. I-.. it surprised me, that they didn't abandon him. I'd like him to do what we couldn't."
And what would that be? You and Sukuna basically could do anything. Were you saying he might've been uncapable of something? He killed all his life, he survived, he lived. What couldn't he possibly do?
"You must be mistaken, little one. We've done everything. We're capable of everything."
To his surprise, your voice came out weak. Weak like he'd never heard before. Not even when the people started chasing you with torches and knives, and spat mean words at you for your mere existence.
"...I'd like him to grow up loved."
"..."
...but Sukuna had loved you, hadn't he?
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Best creation ever thank you to this author.

