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you let naoya feel what it’s like to not be in control for once noncon, fem!reader, 5.5k words, idk it’s not that filthy, you just suck him off n ride him let’s pretend miss reader was able to get to naoya and keep him restrained somehow ok? reader wear dress for the plot ok? naoya prolly ooc as furq. idk i’ve never written for the bastard before, but that ask had me thinking u know. sorry if it seems like it doesnt mesh well, started this back in january and i had to fill so many gaps because my writing process sucks, smh. i def repeat myself a lot lolz. also i prommy i have a sukuna pee fic coming idk how to write piv anymore lol errors? soz, orz.

“isn’t it something having the great naoya zenin restrained like this?” you purr, as you settle down in front of him. sinking down slowly, you tuck your feet beneath you as your weight presses into the back of your calves, legs folded neatly. resting your hands palm down on your thighs, you feel his gaze tracking your every movement, sharp eyes burning with pure malice.

you look up at him with a knowing look, lips curling into a devious smirk, one that says you both know he’s helpless to do anything against you. a look that says you have him right where you want him—in your clutches, squirming under you while you consume him.

“naoya.”

and his teeth grit when you call him so casually. the strained creaks of the knots to the rope, and the chafing of it against his wrists fill your ears, a sound so beautiful it makes arousal bloom in your gut, like flowers when spring arrives.

humming softly, you ignore his wordless protest, hands wrapping around his ankles, the rope binding them to the chair rough against your skin. slowly, delicately—a touch you know doesn’t match your ill intentions—you slide upwards, making your way under his hakama and over his calves til your grip is just underneath his knees, thumbs brushing against them softly.

“so soft,” you murmur, eyes locked on his, your gaze unwavering.

“of course,” he scoffs, the chair protesting when he shifts in his seat. you’re not even fazed by his attempt to jump at you through his bindings, like a dog trying to intimidate another. “only good when you’re on your knees.”

“is that right?” you chuckle softly, dragging your palms back down his calves, then bringing them up again in a careful caress. having him like this sends a thrill through you, who knew having this much power over him would be this exciting. “i’m going to enjoy myself,” you say quietly. dragging your gaze down the length of his throat, you watch the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows down before going lower, over his chest, the way it rises and falls—then finally settling between his spread legs.

“there’s nothing for you to enjoy,” he hisses, the ropes groaning again as he fights against them. another gentle laugh leaves you, a hand coming to cover your mouth while you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

“no?”

“no.”

in an instant, your hands are on his thighs, squeezing them harshly, feeling the muscles jump under your touch. naoya hisses when your nails dig in through the fabric, thumbs pressed into his inner thighs.

before he can even make another comment, you’re undoing his pants, freeing his length. he’s already half hard, and you scoff. predictable. “is just seeing me on my knees enough to get you riled up, naoya?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” his voice is like venom, yet wavers as your hands move, stomach clenching tightly. “just shut your mouth and do what you were made for. men have needs after all.”

“you don’t have to lie,” you purr, bringing two fingers to your mouth, making sure to hold eye contact with him when you slip them inside your mouth. the pads of your fingertips rub past your teeth, gliding across the wet velvet of your tongue til they reach the back of your throat. drool spills past your lips, yet your gaze never leaves his, letting him watch as you hollow your cheeks around the digits, wetting them thoroughly.

when you withdraw them, there’s a thick string of spit connecting them to your lips, stretching and only snapping when you reach for his now rock hard cock. a small, knowing smile makes its way onto your face as you flutter your lashes softly, wet hand wrapping around the base of his shaft.

a shudder, one that you know he can’t control, rolls through his body at your touch, lips parting as his chest begins rising and falling a little heavier. you have him right where you want him.

“what’s wrong, naoya?” you tease, slicking him up with your drenched fingers, gliding up the length of his cock til you reach the tip, thumb dipping into his slit, drawing forth a bead of pre. he’s looking down at you like you’re something disgusting, yet he’s unable to will his body to stop responding to your actions. the deep brown of his eyes are swallowed by black, brow pinched together in irritation while you pump his cock languidly.

he doesn’t let your ministrations completely consume him, your eyes following the movement of his throat as he swallows thickly. “is this the best you’ve got?” he bites back, shifting against the ropes keeping him bound once more. you can feel his thigh tense under your free hand, and you tilt your head at him, lips pursed. “use your mouth if you think you’re so tough.”

and that makes you grin, thumb dipping into his slit again just to watch the way his sharp eyes track the movement with a dizzying arrogance, but underneath you can see his pride starting to crumble, lust blooming in his gaze.

“you’d like that wouldn’t you,” you reply in a mockingly sweet tone, followed by a soft sigh. “well,” your hand stops, and the corner of your lip twitches when you see the way his cock jerks in your grasp at the lack of stimulation. “i suppose i could give you what you want. just this once.” you tell him, nodding your head while holding up a finger to signal what you mean.

“wh—”

he’s given no time to react before you’re leaning in, still gripping the base of his cock tightly. your warm breath washes over his pulsing flesh, tongue darting out to lick at the pre sliding down his shaft. his reaction is almost instant, a harsh jerk of his hips, the creak of rope as he fights his bindings again.

“fuck.”

this is how you want him—forced to take the pleasure while in a position where he’s not the one in control and keeping the pace. groaning and desperate for your touch is how you’ll have him by the end of this, even if he cums it’ll mean nothing as long as you’re the one running things.

“mm,” you moan softly when your lips part, engulfing his head, reveling in the way the flesh comes to life in your mouth. when you look up at him, lashes lowered so prettily, you can see the way his eyes roll briefly, head falling back on his shoulders. slowly, you take in more of his length, bobbing your head, you tease him, not quite letting him feel the full warmth of your throat just yet.

“you’re so—mmph—” he grunts, his voice breaking as he tries to maintain his composure. you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and heated, like he’s unsure of whether or not he wants to burn a hole through your skull with his gaze or not. “are you this desperate to please a zenin that you’d resort to this? just a filthy. . .” but he loses his insult, eyes going glassy, arrogance begining to fade.

and he full on shudders when you take him to the hilt, the hairs at the base of his cock tickling your nose. you hear him fight to insult you again, a groan erupting from deep within his chest when you hum at his weak attempt, the sound traveling from your throat to vibrate against his cock.

pulling back with a laugh, your hand replaces your mouth, stroking him languidly, watching the way he twitches in your grasp. spit and pre coat him in a thick layer, a resounding squelch filling the room when you drag your hand down the length of him, watching as more pre beads at his tip, joining the mess you’re spreading along his flesh.

“naoya,” you murmur, eyes lingering on his cock before flicking to meet his half-lidded gaze. a grin stretches your lips when you see his expression, your hand squeezing around his tip just to watch him struggle to keep his vision clear. “isn’t this fun?”

“you’re talking too much,” he hisses, head lolling back briefly once more before he regains control, teeth bared as he spits another insult at you, “just admit you’re enjoying this. a pathetic thing like you, this is all you’re good for, remember?”

pouting, you speed up the motions of your hands, dragging along his slick length til his breathing is increasing rapidly, eyes widening slightly. shifting your gaze, you watch as thick strands of your spit and his arousal stretch and snap as you stroke his length, mesmerized by the sight of his cock throbbing against his will. leaning in, your tongue slips out to lap at his slit, lashes lowering when your eyes slip shut to focus on the sounds you’re pulling from his lips.

he’s breathing heavily, swears and low groans pouring from his throat. they grow in volume when you take his tip back into your mouth, suckling on the pulsing flesh.

you could do this all day if it means pulling these sounds from him—listening to the way he fights them, how he fights what he’s feeling. you’d edge him to the point of tears if you could. you don’t doubt your abilities, but you’re not sure you’d be able to keep him in your grasp for as long as you want.

without even realizing it, you’ve begun taking more of his length down your throat once more. the wet, slick heat constricts around him, and you hum again. the combination seems to set him off, and his hips jerk upwards, forcing more of his length down your throat, a gag torn from your lips. the sound does him in, it seems, his own groan loud, cock throbbing harder in your mouth.

pulling back once more, you don’t give him the satisfaction of hearing you choke on his cock again, noting the way his hips try to chase your retreating mouth, a quiet laugh leaving you, but it doesn’t last long.

“well,” you huff, looking up at him with a frown, stroking along his cock again. “did you enjoy that, you bastard?”

“told you, you were good for something,” he sneers, shifting in the old wooden chair, the scraping of the rope mixing with his deep breaths as he struggles with his bindings once more.

scoffing, you roll your eyes, “of course.” but then you’re tilting your head, letting your hand drop lower, squeezing his balls. “should i be nice and let you cum in my mouth?”

tapping your finger against your lips, you narrow your eyes as if in deep thought, watching as naoya stares down at you with clenched teeth, occasionally shifting his gaze to where your hand is wrapped around him.

a small, sly, barely there smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, “or in my pussy?”

and his cock gives a hard, involuntary jerk at those words, and you can’t help but sneer, not surprised at his body’s reaction. “pathetic,” you tell him, rising to your feet. “all you zenin men are the same.”

he opens his mouth to speak, eyes locked with a look that says he’s ready to kill, but then his gaze wanders down to your hands. you’ve grabbed the skirt of your dress by your hips, bunching up the fabric til it slowly starts to gather in your hold, revealing your legs in the process. once it’s to your thighs, you shift your hands til they’re under your skirt, fingers hooking into your panties to pull them down to pool at your feet.

“you’ll be getting neither, by the way.”

hiking your dress up again, you hold it just shy of your upper thighs, the space between your legs, and your mound hidden behind the bunched up fabric. you can feel his eyes tracking every movement, and it makes you scoff, “what? want me that bad? is the naoya zenin really this desperate?”

“desperate? don’t make me laugh.” he laughs, yet his eyes trace the lines of your thighs despite his words. “it’s a common look on you, isn’t it? so eager to put yourself on display for others. you’re practically begging for me to look.”

“i bet,” and then you’re pressing a knee into the small space of chair visible between his spread thighs. you sink down until you’re straddling his lap, letting the skirt of your dress pool in his lap and over his length, hands settling over his shoulders. you can feel the heat of him against you, his cockhead twitching, smearing pre against your mound.

you rock your hips forward, letting his length slide across your pussy, grinding his messy cock against your supple flesh. the heat emanating from his skin makes you shudder, fingers digging into shoulder blades, holding his lust blown gaze as you lift yourself just barely, you move one hand to dip beneath your dress and grasp his length. carefully, you guide him to your entrance, the tip of his cock kissing your fluttering hole.

the feel of his thick flesh against your wet heat has you fighting back a moan, lashes lowering as you take a moment to gather yourself. his cock is hot, throbbing inside your gushing inner walls, and when you reopen your eyes he’s looking at you with a look so heavy with resentment it’s a surprise he hasn’t tried to buck you off of him. though you know he won’t try that because he wants this, no matter how hard he tries to deny it

a soft, breathy noise is released from your lungs once you’re fully seated on his length, lips parting around the sound, gaze locked on his. a choked off sound catches in his t hroat when you’re settled completely on him, his back going rigid, wrists chafing terribly against the course rope.

“i knew you just wanted to fuck me,” he insults, but he’s fighting back his own groan, and there’s no denying it now that he wants this with the way his cock throbs inside your pussy, pre weeping pitifully from the tip.

“watch your tongue, zenin,” you hiss, giving an experimental roll of your hips. “shut your bratty, whining mouth for once.”

taking him deeper you let whatever taunt he was planning die on his tongue. you hate to admit how well he stretches you, how his cock is rubbing against all the right places as you gently circle your hips, beginning to build a steady pace.

he’s a complete and utter mess beneath you, fighting the urge to buck his hips, yet he can’t stop the stray twitches and throbs from his cock inside you. he looks desperately like a man that wants to reach for your hips and bounce you on his cock til you’re a whimpering, whining mess. yet instead, you watch as his throat bobs harshly as he swallows down his groans, eyes rolling towards the ceiling.

“oh, naoya,” a high-pitched, over the top whimper is released from your throat when you rock your hips against his. you relish the way he bites back another groan, even with your mocking sounds, a wicked grin pulling at your lips.

you’re nearly drunk on power. having him like this—completely at your mercy—makes you damn near delirious. this is all you’ve ever wanted. to have naoya in a position he probably never thought he’d be in, powerless, forced to take pleasure in a way that’s so unlike him.

the sensation is even becoming too much for you, your thighs trembling as you begin bouncing on his length, the sound of your bodies meeting mixes with his harsh, desperate groans. wet slaps of skin on skin, the slick slide of your pussy engulfing his cock driving you all the more insane, intent on putting him through absolute hell.

you’re driving yourself to the brink, grinding down til there’s no space left between you, just his cock battering your cervix. the intensity of the situation is consuming you, making your brain run wild with hundreds of possible scenarios you could have him in, it makes you shudder violently against him.

“should’ve bent you over and fucked—”

“watch your mouth,” he chokes, and hearing his words catch does something to you, hips slamming harder against his, arms completely encircling his neck.

“after this—” your own voice breaks, eyes fluttering, head tilting back, the ceiling above you blurry. his cock throbs within you, your cunt clenching down so tight naoya swears under his breath, and his head slumps forward, hair tickling your skin just before his face presses into the warm crook of your neck.

momentarily, you’re lost in the feeling, the stretch of his cock inside of you, the image of him, reddened face pressed into the hard wooden flooring, the cold of it would be the only thing soothing him as you fuck him from behind. you’d have him a sobbing, whimpering mess, begging for you to stretch him open even more—have him completely surrender to you.

“—ain’t happening. . .”

you manage to catch the tail end of what he’s saying, a curious sound leaving your throat, hips stilling against his. and you take note of how his cock twitches where it’s buried in your warmth, how his own hips give a weak, pitiful jerk when you stop moving.

“is that what you think?” a low hum makes its way from between your lips, fingers brushing through his hair before tangling in the strands, pulling harshly. naoya releases a breath through his teeth. you can feel his thighs trembling beneath you, his whole body strung tight. it makes you wonder what he’s thinking. if he’s accepted that he’s enjoying what you’re doing to him. doesn’t matter if he hasn’t come to terms with it yet. you suppose, by the time you’re done with him he’ll be wondering why he even resisted in the first place. “do you think after i make you cum that i’m finished with you?”

“you’re really that delusional—”

but you don’t let him finish.

“‘m going to fuck you so hard,” you hiss, nails at his scalp, “you’ll be begging me for more.”

you feel him shudder against you, feel the way his breath stutters over your neck—the way the bead of sweat drips off the tip of his nose and down the flesh of your neck. “you won’t—” he groans weakly, breathing harsh and heavy. faintly, you hear the steady tap, tap, tap of something against the floorboards, and then the dry scratching of the rope fibers when naoya shifts his hands. the smell of copper hits your nose, and you realize just how hard he’s been fighting to break free.

“i will,” you shift, petting his hair like a mother would her child, resting your cheek against his head. with a heavy, mocking sigh, you comb through the strands of his hair, fingertips brushing against his ears in the process, another shiver ghosting through his frame. “you’ll enjoy yourself, naoya,” you tell him quietly, as if you’re sharing a secret. “i promise.”

it’s so easy to picture. poor naoya, on his knees for you, back arched into a beautiful curve, disheveled in appearance, hakama pulled down to reveal every inch of his intimates to you. there’d be bloodied streaks in the flooring where he’d scratch into the wood, nails peeled back from the bed, red and glistening, near throbbing from the damage that was dealt.

so caught up in the imagery of him ruined beneath you, you nearly miss the shift of his hips, the small, almost imperceptible movement—the slight roll as he tried to sheath his cock further inside your cunt. it makes you grin, a wide, predatory thing. he’s enjoying it. as much as he’s fighting it, he wants more of you—wants more of the assault you’re inflicting upon his body. he truly is a man, after all. should you continue though? wouldn’t that be giving him what he wants? don’t you want to hear him beg first?

“naoya,” sighing like you’re disappointed, you stop all movements, letting your index finger trace along the shell of his ear, over the cool metal of his piercings. and you can hear how hard he swallows, how heavy his breath washes over you. “is it that bad? do you need to fuck me—”

. . .there’s a pressure—too much, too intense—a harsh, nasty snap of something that shouldn’t give so easily. there’s no pain, not at first, just the press of his mouth, the drag of air through teeth when he pulls back (or when you yank him away?). it’s disgusting—strands of spit snapping against your skin when he’s away from your neck, the sudden flash of pain blooming from where his mouth has just been.

for a moment you wonder why the sudden attack now and not earlier. but then it’s obvious to you, maybe because he’s realized you’ve caught on—

but the pain is burning—a hot, searing liquid spilling from your neck, seeping into the neck of your dress. it feels as if it’s scorching everything it touches—your clothing feels as if it were on fire, flames licking along your flesh til you’re engulfed in their heat—

“you bastard—”

his mouth is stained dark, blood clinging in the grooves of his teeth and gums, filling the cracks of his lips. he’s grinning. that same fucked up, arrogant ass, fucking smug bullshit he always does. before you can even realize it, your fingers are twisting into his hair, wrenching his head back til he hisses out in pain, feeling the way the strands nearly give from your grip. his eyes flutter, rolling, and you take the opportunity to lean in close while he’s out of it, to whisper against his skin.

“you pathetic, sniveling, little fucking brat—” you can feel some of his hair break off in your grip, and you twist harder, hearing him choke on his spit as he attempts to speak through gritted teeth.

“whore.”

“me?” you sneer, cunt clenching around him just to watch the way his eyes roll again, jaw falling slack when he tries, and fails, to thrust up into you.

the patter of blood dripping from his wrists grows faster with every twist of his arms. you can hear the rope grow slicker the more he struggles.

“that’s it,” you breathe heavily, eyes sliding shut. a sudden sense of peace washes over you while you sit there, straddling his restrained form, the pulsing in your neck becoming distant as you let your mind focus purely on naoya.

the length of him inside you—the fullness, thickness—makes you throb. the involuntary clench of your pussy around him, one that makes him groan, has your teeth sinking into your lower lip, stifling a whimper. you can feel his heart hammering against his chest with how closely you’re pressed together, and it’s your turn to tuck your face into the crook of his neck.

naoya’s body trembles beneath you, and you have a feeling, just a smidge, that if he wanted to, he’d have freed himself by now. but he’s enjoying this. you know, for once in his life, naoya zenin is at peace being the one who lacks control. if you’re to voice this opinion, he’d call you a whore again. but his cock weeping pathetically inside you tells you both otherwise.

sighing, you press your nose into his skin, lips brushing his pulse, a ghost of a touch. it makes him freeze for a split second,

saliva pools in your mouth, weighing down your tongue before you let the appendage spill out, pressing flat to the side of his neck. he tries recoiling in disgust, but you hold him there—let him feel your spit coat his flesh, and travel down his neck much like your blood had.

“i should bite back, no?” you ask him once you’ve pulled away from his neck, lips brushing his ear. your tongue dips out, more saliva painting his skin, flicking softly against it. a shudder rolls through his body, yet he says nothing. it seems he’s taken a vow of silence.

how amusing.

you’ll get sounds out of him another way.

chuckling softly, you let your lips wander—no real goal in mind—pressing into his flesh here and there, occasionally stopping to suck a patch of flesh into your mouth, marking him as a lover would. your fingers tighten in his hair, keeping his head tilted back as your lips descend upon his adam’s apple, parting over the skin to suck a harsh mark, tongue sweeping over the budding bruise.

“naoya.” you try, licking lazily at a spot you’ve just bitten.

he just swallows down thickly, and you feel the movement beneath your mouth. who knew this is what it takes to get him to shut the fuck up?

“naoya,” you try again, this time swiveling your hips in a lazy circle, watching the way his jaw clenches, lashes lowering. “is that it then?” you murmur gently, peppering kisses along his jawline as you begin moving your hips again, starting a slow grind.

he exhales through his nose, “in your dreams,” yet his chest rises in an unsteady rhythm, and you notice the pitch in his words before he can hide it. it’s cute—how hard he’s trying.

“aww,” you pout playfully, not letting him see just how much it’s affecting you either, not yet at least. because after all, it is about taking power from him and stripping him of his ego while simultaneously getting your rocks off as a final fuck you. “this is it.” but you already know this.

the wet, slick slide of his length inside of you makes you dizzy. you can feel the copious amounts of your arousal in a pool at the base of his cock. it’s a sickening, echoing squelch when you begin rolling your hips in a steady circle, clenching around his cock to pull the most sinful of sounds from between his lips.

“don’t get it twisted,” he chokes, groaning, hips jerking upwards. “this isn’t what you think it is,” yet he gives another harsh, involuntary roll of his hips, jaw falling slack.

with a gasp, you force him to look at you, taking note of his hazy eyes, lids heavy with want—with need. you watch the way his throat works as he swallows a groan, adam’s apple bobbing. “but you’re enjoying yourself.”

you don’t give him time to respond before you’re back to rolling your hips against him, gasping when his length rubs up against a a particular sensitive spot. you watch his eyes glaze over, jaw slack, as you maintain and dictate the rhythm of your grinding, forcing him to take what you’re giving whether it’s what he wants or not.

a tightness begins building in your gut, one that twists your insides til you’re panting against his mouth, eyes hazy, and half-lidded. you’re about to cum. you’re about to cum around naoya zenin’s cock. the friction continues to build, your cunt fluttering around his length helplessly, pulsing in time with your raging heartbeat. it comes down to one final point, your fingers tightening in his hair, it’s too much—the snug fit of him. when it happens your vision blacks out momentarily, a choked gasp caught in your throat while your pussy spasms around his throbbing length. beneath you, naoya struggles with his own body, hips frantically fighting the urge to rock up into you, trying not to join the pace you’ve set, but still he gives the occasional jerk. you can tell he’s close too, your pussy clamping down on his twitching cock making him swear under his breath, his eyes rolling as his balls draw up tight. but then your hips begin to slow, coming to a complete stop once your peak is over, your legs still trembling on either side of him.

the silence that follows is heavy, interrupted only by the sound of your breathing. you sag against him, nails against his scalp, puffs of air brushing over his lips as you pant. the throbbing within your core does not go unnoticed by you. he’s still twitching, hot, and heavy, pressed tight inside you. your limbs feel heavy, like they’ve been disconnected from your body, yet you move anyway.

a low moan escapes your lips when you shift on his lap, dragging your cunt off his cock. the schlick sound that follows would be enough to make your face grow hot if it were any man other than naoya.

his reaction is almost immediate, a groan, eyes fluttering for a brief second, then he wastes no second once he’s left high and dry. “you’re joking, right? you’re not finished just because you got to cum. do your job.”

and you laugh in his face, leaning in close to him, brushing your noses together, causing him to jerk his head back as much as he can manage. “poor naoya-kun. need to cum that bad, huh?”

“you’re—” but he chokes on his words, jaw dropping, eyes struggling to focus on you. your hand wraps tight around his cock, gliding up and down the length rapidly. keeping your eyes locked on him, you watch with a heavy gaze as naoya loses himself in your touch. “stop—”

that makes you perk up, squeezing his cock involuntarily harder, a shocked groan forced from his lungs. “oh?” tilting your head, you lean in til your lips are nearly brushing, free hand carding through his hair. “i thought you wanted to cum?”

you emphasize your question with quick strokes to his tip, a mix of your arousal and his messy pre coating your hand. an answer is not what you’re expecting, not with the way you’re working his cock, pre basically drooling nonstop from his tip, the squelching sounds growing louder the faster you jerk him off.

you never break eye contact, faces impossibly close, his warm breath washing over your mouth in harsh puffs as he’s rendered speechless. sharp eyes now fall heavy-lidded, lips desperately trying to form around words to insult you. yet all you do is grin, nudging your nose against his.

“c’mon naoya-kun,” you tease, flicking your tongue out against his bottom lip.

letting your free hand dip low to join the other, you cup his balls, squeezing on every upstroke, and he jerks against the chair, eyes drifting back. you can feel how wound up he is, how his cock is begging for release. redoubling your efforts, you drag your lips across his cheeks and jaw, nibbling here and there, leaving small purpling marks against his sweaty flesh.

“cum,” you breathe against skin, sliding your hand up, focusing on the tip, letting his pre make a mess all over your fist. “you know you want to.”

the command does him in, body going tight as spurt after spurt of cum pours over your hand. the creamy release is never ending, a groan erupting from his chest as his cock is worked into overstimulation. you can feel his pulse in your hand, your palm continuing to drag out his release, the slick, wet sounds growing in volume the more you milk his cock. reluctantly, you stop the motions of your hand, letting your grip stay loose around his tip, fingers sticky and tacky with his cum.

he slumps back against the chair, chest heaving, hair stuck to his forehead, the patter of blood dripping from his ruined wrists mixes with his labored breathing. you sit there for a few seconds, watching him, the way his eyesbrows are drawn together, eyes closed. it’s only when you release his softening cock that he looks at you, lids slowly lifting, like it’s taking him extra effort to keep his eyes open, which, after what just transpired, you’re not surprised.

“you’re pathetic, naoya,” you say suddenly, and his eyes widen before narrowing into slits.

there’s another silence, just a brief pause, and then naoya’s parting his lips to retort, only for nothing to come out. he’s exhausted, completely spent. his body sits slumped in the chair, clothing covered in a mess of your combined fluids, something he can’t be too bothered to care about, you suppose. even if he can muster up the strength to say something back to you, you don’t even bother with it.

scooting back, you grip the skirt of your dress as you slip off his lap and onto shaky legs, letting the fabric go to cover the length of your legs once more. you give him a quick once over, meeting his eye one last time, lips curling downwards into a frown.

“i’m sure you can get yourself out of this. or someone will come looking for you eventually.”

there’s no reason for you to wait for his reply, because you simply don’t care. turning on your heel, you head for the room’s exit, opening the door and sliding it shut behind you like you hadn’t just done something god awful, along with leaving him to sit in a mess of his own arousal, and the realization that he lost.

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