#naoya imagines

[2cupids]

𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 … 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘

warnings — fem reader, bōndage, crėampies, megumi is aged up (18+). mdni (17+).

your big, hunky boyfriend that occasionally indulges in your little fantasies even though he’s not particularly fond of them, but he does it to keep you happy.

he’ll let you tie him to the bed with your pretty pink ribbons with a very obvious scowl on his face as you giggle while you “restrain” him.

he thinks it’s silly honestly, but he would never tell you that. plus, these “restraints” you’re using are some he could easily break out of. did you forget what he does for work?

for now, he’ll let you have your fun, thinking that you’re in control. until he gets tired, that is.

tired of the way you tease his cock, not taking him all the way in your mouth. tired of watching your tits bounce as you ride him but not being able to touch them. tired of the way this little bit of “control” you have over him is getting to your head.

all it’ll take is one weak pull of his wrists and these little “restraints” of yours will be broken, and he’ll be in control again.

he’ll have you pinned underneath him in the blink of an eye, slamming his hips into yours and forcing his fat, girthy cock into you. he’ll show you who really has the power and control.

he won’t stop until stop your pussy is sore and raw and his sticky cum is leaking out onto the bedsheets from the multiple loads he’s released in you. by the time he’s done with you, the only thing you’ll remember how to do is repeat his name, over and over again like a chant.

but he’ll let his princess have her way, just like he always does. only for a little while though.

geto, gojo, higuruma, hakari, kusakabe, megumi, nanami, naoya, noritoshi, shiu, sukuna, tengen, toji.

[blondieeu]

fine china. megumi f.

megumi who doesnt even care to tell you to be quiet when his dads home because he hates him just that much.

“toji definitely heard that one..”

“y—our dads he-re?!”

you squealed out in surprise as your hands reached to grab and pull at megumis wrists, but he in no way tried to silence you, instead just fucking you a little rougher.

with your brows furrowed, you reached your arm down to push at his pelvis, he hit it from the side and pushed your arm away. megumi looked down at you through the strands of his currently loose hair.

you couldn’t even believe the audacity out of megumi, to have sex— let alone having it be loud sex with his dad in the house is insane! why didn’t he say his dad was here after you’d been yelling this whole time?!

swiftly after that you brought your fingers up to your lips to try and silence yourself, only just now noticing you were the only one moaning full out.

“why didn’t you tell me gumi!—i was s’ loudddd!”

he kept a straight face and stayed focused at his task at hand, the exact opposite of your immediate panic as you started whispering, even if it was late in the night you still worried about if his dear old dad would wake up and hear the two of you, what a sweet considerate little thing he had.

“fuck him.. s’ not botherin’ me”

you gasped over dramatically as you grabbed at his comforter beneath you, suddenly the music playing in the background didn’t seem to cover your moans, and you’re pretty sure his mom can hear you!

your whole body started to heat up as you felt yourself become flustered, moans and whines slipping from your throat as megumi pushed one of your legs back by your ankle, holding it tightly and out of his way.

blondieeu xx

[retiredteabag]

Wishful Thinking - chapter one

arranged marriage with Nanami with a people-pleasing reader

next part - series masterlist

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Nanami Kento was not in a sorcerer clan. In fact, he was the only sorcerer in his family. You had met him only once before you had been informed of the engagement, and in that brief interaction you had decided you knew exactly what type of man he was.

"It's a pain." had been his harsh words. Vitriol clear as day in his tone.

When asked what he felt about being a sorcerer his response had been that it was…a pain? Being the reserved individual he was, he didn't take the time to elaborate despite the questions of the sorcerers surrounding him.

You had rolled your eyes in that moment. Clearly, he had no sense of responsibility. No duty. I suppose that's what it means to not be in a clan. You had thought. He’s got no idea how good he has it.

And even though you chalked his image up in your mind as an irresponsible and pretentious git. The memory of his brutal gaze stuck in your mind. You knew deep down that it was simply jealousy.

Sorcery was a pain, there had been many instances where you wished you could put it aside and leave this world, but that was simply not what you were born for.

All those months ago, you had left the meeting with the Jujutsu higher-ups resentful. How lucky that man in the suit was, to not have an obligation to fulfill exactly what the clan heads asked of him. How free he must feel.

But, oh, how wrong you had been.

--

You had known your marriage was impending, having had meetings with your father and his subordinates on several occasions to discuss the offers from other clans.

Offers for your hand.

Offers for the rest of your miserable life, for your body, for your fertility, offers to impregnate you, and nothing much else.

You had been picky, of course, having known all your life this was forthcoming you were expecting to not have to rely on Zenin blood to uphold the family name.

Your father was no kind man but if there was one thing he was, it was prideful. If even his measly daughter could brush aside an important clan born man, he too could wait for a finer offer to come.

Back then, you had no idea that would lead to this.

You stood before a full-length mirror. Your dress came below your ankle, the neckline nothing short of chic modesty.

By all accounts and by the people serving you, you were expected to be prepared.

Your wedding was nothing special, a formality, nothing more. Clans from across Japan were here to see the ceremony. Still, your heart pounded as you gulped at your reflection. A shakily deep breath brought you little comfort as you squeezed your hand into a fist.

You knew little of the man you were to marry.

Here was what you had:

He was NOT a Zenin. Hallelujah.

He was not from any clan. (This had come as a shock to you, your father having only explored offers from fellow clan heads, you had no idea how this arrangement was to be made until Gakuganji, the principal of your school, Kyoto Jujutsu High, and one of the more powerfully cruel higher-ups, had arrived at your families estate, enlisting a "fine candidate" for your immanent marriage. He had seemed certain. Immovable.)

And last of the information you had, he was seemingly strong enough for your father to deem his ability to produce "quality children" acceptable. He was a grade 1 sorcerer, nothing to scoff at.

You knew your father would not have accepted the offer of a man without heritage if the higher-up’s had not endorsed it. Even now you wondered why they were so keen on this matrimony.

And that was all you had.

"You look beautiful." A maid from the estate was arranging your hair, she moved quickly, with a soft hand. You hardly noticed her. "I've heard he is a very gentle man," She starts up again after your eyes narrowed in the reflection of the mirror, "if that's any consolation." The women ends in a whisper.

You huff out a breath, "Thank you."

That's what they all say.

You wonder if she was lying to you. This morning you had heard your mother crying in your bedroom after you had made up your sheets for the last time. It made you sad, knowing she was afraid for you.

Afraid you would turn out like her.

You swallow with some effort and look up to the maid at your side, she smiled at you.

"It looks lovely." You say, assuming she wanted praise.

She lays a hand on your shoulder and her smile crinkles in a funny way, "He is very handsome." Her eyebrows tilt in a telling fashion, she almost giggles.

Great.

What were you to say to that?

"I... see." You look at the floor and turn away from your reflection. All that was left was for your father to arrive. To take your hand in an uncomfortably tight grip and lead you down the aisle to the man that was decided to be the father of your children.

"Is there anything you would like, before I leave you? It won't be long now..." The maid tries to meet your gaze so you look up to her face once more.

"No, there's nothing, thank you for helping me." You try to smile at her but your throat hurts from the brief amount of talking you have already done.

The women nods her head, she turns to go but hesitates at the door, for a moment you think she is going to turn and speak to you, to say something as a comfort perhaps, but just as her body holts to grip the door, the hinges swing away and your father steps in.

"Move out of my way. Move! Out!” Your father shoves at the women who had been by the threshold and she escapes out the door with a hushed apology and not a glance at yourself.

You stand before him. Resolved to not shutter in these moments. Neither of you speak until he swings his arms and says,

"Well, are you coming?"

You almost want to laugh. How you wish you could look up at the domineering man and say, no I don't think I am, but you knew better, and although he extends no arm to you, you take the few steps to his presence and heave a sign.

"Stand up straight. Serve us well."

You knew those would be all the words you heard from him tonight, as unhappy as you were to be married to a strange man, you felt pleased to know you would no longer be living in your clans estate, just as you knew your father would be glad to be rid of you.

Your fathers movements seemed all too fast. His steps, his reaching for your arm, his pulling you out the door and into the hall.

You felt as if time was slowing but those around you weren't effected. Your father huffed angrily, tugging you along. This was happening too fast. You didn't want this. You weren't ready.

You wiped the sweat from your palms over the satin dress hanging on your waist. The collar that once seemed elegant was starting to choke you. The door to the ceremony was drawing closer, you could hear music but it was almost as if the closer you came, the foggier it sounded.

Echos of your mother’s cries this morning permeated your brain. You knew you were asking for too much. But in those last moments before your autonomy would be taken from you, you had only one wish.

That the maid was right. That the man at the alter would truly be a gentle creature...would be tender....would be mild?

The doors were swinging open. The light was bright, but you did not dare to raise a hand to block its assault. You walked slowly, arm tightly locked in your fathers grasp. You noticed the clan leaders in the audience, but as your eyes tried to take in the man at the front of the room, you stuttered in your steps.

Hoping your father would take no notice, you tried to recall how you knew the man who was meeting your eye.

You began to put together who this man was, having met him before, though you hadn't been introduced. That one interaction had showed you he would not have been a man you would want to live the rest of your days with. He had seemed unhappy in those moment.

Fear shot through you.

An unhappy husband was more dangerous than any curse you had faced.

Having stared long enough, you drop your gaze from his own piercing one. You almost want to smile, but you're unable to.

Maybe he isn't as free as you thought he was. Poor him.

You wonder how he even managed to get in this predicament as the music began to come to its end. You're stepping up onto the platform that your future husband stood upon, your ankle wobbles in the heels that were chosen for you.

In a flash you see his arm reach out for you but you’re only confused, shrinking back a bit father from him.

You look to meet his gaze once more. He's barely a few breaths from you. His eyes seem focused on your face.

The officiant is talking but you cannot hear him.

You realize one of two things in this particular moment, one, the maid was right about something, this man was remarkably handsome. And second, you realize you're feeling quite faint.

The dress had not been so hot before you were standing before this man in front of all these people under the shine of all these lights. You swallow, dig your nails into your palms, the officiant seems to be speaking to the man before you and it isn't long before your husband speaks out a low, "I do."

You feel as though you must pay attention, your bit is coming up now and you would hate to embarrass your family, but you can hardly hear the man over the pounding in your ears. A prick of sweat starts to form on the back of your neck.

There is a pause in the mans speech, he looks at you intently, after a moment he raises a brow.

Oh, right. "I do." You say.

You look anywhere but your husband. Knowing you weren't expected to kiss, you try to take in some more air. This was it.

The officiant hands something to the man before you.

He's so tall. The suit he is wearing seems to fit him perfectly, and you can’t help wondering who helped him here today if he had no clan members.

His arm is suddenly in front of you, palm up. It takes you but a moment to know what he is asking for. You brace yourself and set your hand within his own.

He places his other hand onto yours for a moment, engulfing your hand in his grasp. You are shaking, you know you are, but with everything going on in this very moment, you are hoping he won't notice.

A ring is being slipped onto your finger. Good, now your turn.

He hands you his own, a plain ring of gold.

Don't drop it. Do not drop it. Don't-

You miss his ring finger once before finally sliding it on. You hope no one noticed. You pull your hand free of his first and look to your father in the crowd.

This was it, right?

There was an echo of the efficient, "I now pronounce you husband and wife", and the group before you claps in respect.

The man who you had just married is bending down to your ear, but he doesn't say anything. You look him from your peripheral vision, and he is tilting his head down the aisle a bit.

Ah, yes. Your hand is in his own as you go back down where you just came. Your life is forever changed now.

So much lay before you, so much for you to worry about, but the one thing on your mind in this moment is how the grip of your husbands hand is infinitely more pleasant than the aggressive clasp your father had on you.

You hope against hope, that maybe, you would never feel the harsh grip of a man again.

But that was too wishful, was it not?

[lale-txt]

❥ falling asleep besides you for the first time ↳ w/ Toji, Naoya, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Higuruma, Sukuna & Choso

a/n: this came over me like a fever dream during another episode of insomnia. some of those drabbles are a little sad, i apologize. it's what you get with all those tragics characters. reader is gn!

word count: 1.4k

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t even want to fall asleep; it’s not like he had a good night of rest ever since… well. He tells himself he’s just gonna close his eyes for a bit, stretched out on the couch next to you, his weary head in your lap. There’s still blood on his hands and on the side of his face, he’s gonna get cleaned up in just a bit, he mumbles, but the words come out heavy and drowsy, and your fingers are tangled in his hair now and your voice is this sweet whisper, baby, I love you anyway, and Toji–Toji just gives in. For the first time, sleep doesn’t come over him as a heavy veil, as if he’s drowning; for once it’s something peaceful, something quiet. Something he welcomes. Next to you, you with your fingers woven between his, you who loves even the broken parts of him, you with quiet love and reassurance that you’re still gonna be there when he wakes up again.

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀 hasn’t had another warm body next to him under the covers in a long time. He doesn’t realize how much he missed this until your body melts into his, one leg swung over his thighs, your arm sneaking around his waist and your head finding its spot in the crook of his neck. His cheek falls softly against your forehead when he pulls you closer, breathing in the scent of you that’s the closest to home he ever felt, pressing kisses on the crown of your head. It’s not just lust–oh, he wants to devour you, but there’ll be time in the morning–it’s the absence of loneliness and unspoken confessions. Higuruma can tell when he’s falling in love and in this moment he’s wading deep, deeper through his feelings for you, biting his tongue so they don’t spill out all over the pillows and into you. You already know anyway, and when the sun comes up again, you’ll lick them from the cave of his mouth like a prayer.

𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀 can’t fall asleep, not on his wedding night, not when your mouth is whispering all those words he’s demanding from you. His cheek is pressed against your palm while he’s pinning you down, almost nuzzling into it like a touch-starved stray, golden eyes lingering on you. Say you’re mine. Again. Say who you belong to. Mine. Mine. All mine. He isn’t aware how pleading he sounds, how raspy his voice gets the more you obey, every time you sigh his name so softly into his open mouth. Naoya doesn’t care if you’re lying, as long as you wear your wedding band on your ring finger for everyone to see. You’re his to keep now, and if he could have it his way, you would be forbidden to leave this bed forever; he wasn’t aware just how much he had craved the presence of another being by his side at night, one who doesn’t leave once he had his share of pleasure. No, you’re his now, and before sleep eventually finds him, he’ll make sure to sink his teeth into you till his name rolls off your tongue like a lullaby. 

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 doesn’t let go of your hand; he’s afraid it’ll go cold if he allows himself to let his guard down even for one second. This isn’t how he had imagined spending the first night with you. Not under the fluorescent lights of the infirmary, not with your body wrapped in gauze and machinery monitoring your heart rate. It dawns on him as he’s sitting on your bedside–how attached he’s gotten to you, then: How he had almost lost you today. He squeezes your hand tighter and sighs, his weary head sinking down on the mattress. Your fingers twitch and find their way into his hair, combing through it weakly. As if they say, it’s okay, I’m alive, you’re not to blame. So please don’t leave and take all your love with you. And Nanami takes your hand once again and kisses your fingertips, pressing promises against your skin, promises of a future where you and him can just be, one where he can finally put all of these feelings down, down in your open and gentle palms for you to keep.

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is clingy throughout the day, but even more so at night. He doesn’t like the eerie quiet that settles in once the sun has sunken, not when he can listen to your steady breathing next to him instead, so naturally he feels a rush of joy when you push your futons together for the first time. His heart is beating way too fast to find sleep now, his eyes taking in everything about your sleeping figure, from the way your chest rises and falls to how your nose scrunches slightly for a moment. Choso wants to know what you’re dreaming about, what colors your dreams are, and if he’s ever in them. He wants to engrave himself into your being, wants to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. His kisses feel light against your skin, careful not to wake you but enough to fill his desire. Choso loves you with his entire being, and sleep is merely an obstacle, cutting away from your time spent together–though he must admit, his eyes flutter shut quite easily in your embrace.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 realizes that his idea of ‘sweets in bed’ now has a double meaning, seeing you sprawled out in his sheets with candy wrapping paper clenched between your fist and more of it lying on the floor. Cute, he can’t help but murmur as he lays down next to you on his side, mustering you with an amused smile on his lips. When he told you to knock yourself out on the sweet souvenirs he brought, he didn’t assume you would take it that literally. His thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the powdered sugar that’s still stuck there, and Gojo could swear he never tasted anything sweeter than this when he brings it to his tongue. He gently replaces the trash you hold onto in your sleep with his fingers, woven between yours, and pulls you close to him, his tall figure embracing you; and for the first time in a long time, Gojo feels a wave of calm wash over him, allowing him to exhale and sink into a dream almost as sweet as you.

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 doesn’t know why he keeps entertaining your antics. Sharing a bed, sleeping together side by side? How utterly foolish, but as to be expected from a mere human; they’ve always been like this, seeking comfort and warmth when they’re the most vulnerable. Of course a predator like Sukuna wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping safe and sound. Yet still; he can’t help but let his gaze linger on you, wrapped up in his embrace, four arms holding you in place on top of him. Everyone else would freeze in fear, but you? You snore quietly without a single worry in the world, knowing you have a king watching over you in your slumber. Sukuna huffs but still brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Maybe he’ll tell Uraume that you’re off the menu, for now. As long as you know your place–in his embrace, wearing his marks with pride, providing a sense of comfort Sukuna had never known before. Fool, he mutters and rests his chin on top of your head, not sure if those words were for him or you. 

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 doesn’t question when you knock on the door of his dorm room, asking for shelter after a particular nightmare. He hasn’t found any sleep yet anyway. When he lifts up the covers for you to slip under, he’s surprised that you don’t even hesitate to do so, wrapping yourself around his body as if it was molded for that only. Geto can tell that you’re trying not to tremble, but the nightmare still lingers. He knows it all too well. His fingers brush through your hair when he pulls you closer to his chest, as if this could prevent you from falling apart–though deep down he’s aware that he might be the one on the verge of breaking. You know it too, don’t you? Geto is tired, oh, so tired. The kind of tired sleep can’t fix, and he can’t help but wonder if this would also be the last time that you’re in his arms, clinging onto someone who is long gone; a version of him that he shed together with his dream of letting himself love you.

[yanderenightmare]

Can you write more for naoya zenin? Your writting is soo good omg, i was thinking about ex husband naoya

Naoya Zenin

♡ TW: toxic relationship, toxic family, arranged marriage, obsessiveness, possessiveness, denied divorce, abuse, kidnapping

♡ FEM reader

Ex-husband Naoya, who refuses to sign the papers as there’s no such thing as divorce in the Zenin clan—who says it’s shameful and that you should know better than to think you can just walk away from him just like that.

Ex-husband Naoya, who is very clear about it—how if you leave, it will be with nothing to your name—nothing but the clothes on your back, and barely even that—because everything you have is owned by him—and the only reason he’s ever been willing to share it is because you’ve paid for it in his bed.

Ex-husband Naoya, who can’t believe it when you leave him anyway—who’s certain he’s coming home to a dutiful wife, all silly ideas put to rest, sweetly apologetic for ever having raised the thought—but instead comes home to a quiet, cold, and empty house—divorce papers the only trace you’ve left behind.

Ex-husband Naoya, who immediately has the Zenin clan shun your clan and makes sure all other clans do the same, completely cutting you off—telling your clan leaders that until they deliver on their side of their alliance and have you return to your rightful place, their clan is to be held in contempt.

Your family begs you to go back to him, to stop this rebellion you’re so childishly insisting on. Your father even commands you, but you’re done taking orders from men—and their brainwashed wives. You don’t owe them anything—they’re the ones who sold you off to that misogynistic madman in the first place. Serves them right to suffer the way you have.

And so, you go off on your own. 

But with his resources, ex-husband Naoya’s always able to find you—and make your life hell. Any job you manage to get fires you only a few weeks later for reasons unknown—encouraged by a silent donation—and realtors will suddenly tell you that the apartment you’ve been interested in is off the market.

Ex-husband Naoya, who comes to collect you from the woman’s shelter you’ve taken refuge at, fed-up and beyond ready to put an end to whatever it is you think you’re up to.

“I don’t have any more time for this nonsense of yours,” he says— patronizing tone making him look ugly and nothing like the great man he thinks he is. “You’re out of money, and you’re out of places to run. Come with me now, and I will still allow you a gracious return.” 

Ex-husband Naoya, who really must be the most entitled man in the world.

“Make me waste any more time, and I’ll—”

“Fuck your gracious return,” you cut him off, continuing with a sneer, “Only way I’m going anywhere with you is kicking and screaming. Now get the fuck out before I call security and have you arrested.”

Ex-husband Naoya, who looks at you as if you’ve gone mad, then proceeds to feel driven insane himself—laughing at your threat like it was all a really funny joke.

“I’ve been lenient enough with you, humoring this little rebellion of yours, allowing you to come home on your own,” he says, his voice whispy with breath, just shy of unhinged—then dead and cold come his next words, “But I see now… I’ve been too indulgent.” 

Ex-husband Naoya, who meant it when he said he was done playing games.

Ex-husband Naoya, who doesn’t have an issue with your kicking and screaming.

♡ NAOYA ZENIN masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[malereadermaniac]

Forced Mate - Alpha Zenin Naoya x Omega Male reader

Naoya had the privilege to chose his Omega - your relationship with the heir after an arranged mating and marriage has many ups and downs WARNING: Not watched JJK, probably OOC!! Top!Alpha!Naoya x Bottom!Omega!Reader word count: 2.2k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

As expected by anyone who knew him, Naoya of course presented as an Alpha; and as the golden child of the clan, his father set out to find him the perfect mate as soon as possible. Naturally, this proved easier said than done. Naoya had been an egotistical narcissist since he was barely walking, he demanded that his opinions and choices be taken into account on the hunt for his mate, and hell did he have many opinions...

'A woman who doesn't know how to walk three paces behind her husband should be stabbed in the back'

Zenin Naoya was a known sexist. Once he had presented as an Alpha, many thoughts ran through Naoya's head; 'this was expected' - 'of course I'm an Alpha' - 'been stronger than these betas since i was a kid'. But also, after many self-indulgent and boastful thoughts, Naoya also thought 'Thank fuck I don't have to knock up some bitch'. The youngest heir of the Zenin clan was a fucking misogynist, getting a man pregnant seemed like a much sweeter deal than having to deal with a woman as his mate.

So, whilst his father was busy organising match-making meetings and courting hours for his son, Naoya was busy rejecting every single Omega brought to him; because of course, they were all female. The Zenin clan were still traditionalists, if Naoya was to mate with an Omega, that Omega was to at least be a woman. But as you'd expect, Naoya couldn't give less of a fuck about what the clan wanted. He only cared about himself. So once his father eventually gave in and began matchmaking the blonde with male Omegas, Naoya had made his choice. You. And what an honor you would find out this was (or rather quite the opposite). You had caught the Alpha's eye almost immediately after walking into the room. You had aristocratic blood, had undergone etiquette and submission training, you were healthy, and you had so many more 'appealing' qualities for an Omega; but Naoya cared for none of that. The brooding Alpha made most of his decisions on instinct and feeling alone, and it helped that you were quite the head-turner in the looks department. So the decision was made rather quickly. You were to be mated and married to the Zenin clan heir.

You thought you knew what you were in for. Being born into a powerful clan but presenting as an Omega meant one thing; you were a bartering piece, something to marry off in order to establish political relationships. Ever since you presented as an Omega, you had undergone many types of training to become the ideal mate, and you thought that you knew what to expect when it came to how an Alpha would treat you; badly. But boy did you underestimate just how bad it could get. After all of the contractual and political work was out of the way for your arranged marriage, you were immediately moved into the Zenin residence. You had your own room; small but not as crummy as those of the servants. Whilst Naoya viewed you as above all women, he still viewed you as less than any man due to your secondary gender, meaning that he wouldn't share his chambers with you, he wouldn't acknowledge you romantically; you may as well be his live-in prostitute... The night of your moving-in, the two of you were expected to mate; as in, you were expected to submit to Naoya and allow the Alpha to mark you. It was a hard night for you, the hardest by far. Naoya was an impatient man, a selfish man who cared only for his own pleasure, and even worse for you, a sadist by all means. You were in immense amounts of pain that night, the Alpha forcing his way inside of you and drilling into you the whole night; you screams and whines of pain egging him on, turning him on. Your body was covered in bite marks and hickeys, your nape permenantly marked by Naoya; your now mate forever, your Alpha.

It did get better though. With time, Naoya began to tolerate you. The most of your interactions did of course still take place in his chambers; you would visit your Alpha's bedroom almost every single night at his request, leaving in the early hours of the morning back to your chambers. Naoya acknowledged you now though: a chuckled scoff when passing you in the gardens, allowing you at his dinner table, calling for you when he was bored. Of course, Naoya never spoke your name, he often had to be reminded it by his advisors, he would instead call you 'Omega'; but in a weird was, that was enough for you. You also couldn't complain about the sex! He may be a maniac, but Naoya sure does know his way around your body. The Alpha knows how to rut into you in ways that make you writhe and scream in pleasure, he knows how much pain you can take to where you aren't in agony, but you do cry out his name and shed a few tears; he knows you, and that's a lot coming from such a self-absorbed man. Naoya loves it when workers walk in on the two of you fucking; he acknowledges whoever walked in, but he doesn't stop whatever it is he's doing to you. Whether it be his fingers curling into your slicked hole, his tongue forcing your tight walls apart, his hand forcing your head up and down his length, or his dick visibly thrusting in and out of you, Naoya never lets an unexpected audience prevent his pleasure.

The Alpha would never admit it, too proud and narcissistic, but there are things he likes about you. Hell, Naoya fucking loves certain things about you. The blonde goes absolutely feral for your scent, demanding that you scent his room bi-weekly to "comfort his inner Alpha". Naoya will hold you closer while he fucks you, just to get more of your intoxicating, sweet scent. He'll even use your scent as an excuse to have you sleep in his bed; claiming that a mate's scent helps an Alpha sleep. That's another thing he's come to like - sharing his space with you, more specifically his bed. Naoya has become unable to sleep in an empty bed. He'd never admit to missing your weight beside him, to missing the scent of your hair as you curl into his muscular body; but Naoya knew deep down that he loved having you around. But again, the Alpha refused to vocalise his liking of you; you just had to assume from his actions that your Alpha didn't seem to mind you as much as he used to.

Naoya's ruts are another key part of your relationship with the Alpha. Knowing how he is when in his right mind, you can imagine how Naoya behaves like during a rut. The man is a fucking menace. Your body usually goes limp from suffering multiple orgasms without breaks in between. Hickeys and deep bites always end up littering your body. Naoya's body glistens with a sheen of sweat as his muscles flex and tense after what must be ten orgasms in one night; the endurance and stamina of Alphas is a medical phenomenon. Naoya loves to be as close as physically possible to you when in rut, pushing his body down onto yours as he drills his thick, long cock in and out of your warm, tight hole. You switch positions many, many times in one night during one of Naoya's ruts; a favourite of his seemingly being speedbump, but with his muscular arm around your neck, your cheeks squished by his bulging bicep as the Alpha pounds you into the bed with a ridiculous amount of force. Usually, Naoya is talkative when messing around with you, loving the sounds you make and your squirms at his dirty talk, but a rut fully takes it out of him; all of the man's energy going to fucking, with none to spare for any words other than 'Omega' and 'mine'. That's another thing about his ruts, Naoya becomes extraordinarily possessive during them! During pre-rut, Naoya will have anyone who dares speak to you locked away for a week! The blonde has to always have some form of physical contact with you during his pre-ruts and becomes much less of a cunt; showing a more endearing side of himself when he demands to cuddle you and be around you constantly. During Naoya's full ruts, he never allows you to leave his side. The man could be dead asleep and if you get up to clean up or grab some water, he wakes up within seconds and grips your wrist as tight as he can, looking up into your eyes with his own, dark, brooding ones.

Your heats are a completely different story. Naoya is his usual self times ten! Such a fucking sadistic tease. He refuses to touch you where you want him to, going as slow as possible, and making your big, pretty eyes pink up with tears. You end up a begging, pleading, crying mess before his dick gets anywhere near you ass! Your Alpha's fingers do most of the work for your first couple of orgasms, his mouth moving from your nape, to your scent gland for a hit of your hypnotic, sweet smell. Until you're screaming out incoherent pleas and 'Alpha' s, Naoya doesn't allow you the pleasure of fucking you to heaven and back; but damn, when you finally cave in and beg like a pathetic bitch (his own words), your world shatters. During your average heat, Naoya will make sure that you're writhing in pleasure beneath him as he roughs you up; the Alpha's eyes locked onto your immensely pleasured form, watching and admiring how physically and mentally overwhelmed you seem with pleasure, pleasure that only Naoya can provide for you. Kisses are a lot more common when you're in heat. Naoya knows that you are too dazed from the hormones running rampant throughout your body and brain to remember almost anything from your heat; so he lets some affection show here and there. His kisses are tender. So soft and even to an extent loving. The blonde fucking loves to interrupt your moans and desperate panting with a kiss, turning the moment of primal desire into a romantic one; the juxtaposition kinda turns him on, and it most definitely helps you with your heat! Naoya's kisses go right to your brain (dick), your inner Omega screaming in pleasure at the sign of affection; subconciously understanding the kiss as 'my Alpha loves me', 'my Alpha cares'. And even though he would never admit it, Naoya did care about you.

Many months go by after your first night with your Alpha. A weird, but comfortable relationship blooming between you and Naoya. But this was an arranged marriage, the key word being marriage. So of course, Naoya's father pushed the two of you to get married as soon as possible. And the demands kept coming from the Zenin clan... House work. Resigning from your career. Submission. Children.

The Zenin clan needed an Heir; one that would take over even after Naoya. And you were expected to provide that. One one hand, as an Omega, you naturally did crave having children in your life; caring for pups came naturally to you. But holy shit was it insulting. To be told to your face that you were good for nothing other than producing off-spring; it really knocked you down a few pegs. So much so that Naoya even noticed; and he didn't like it. He liked that you usually had some fight in you; normally, you would clap back at him when he was being a cunt, you would knock him down a few pegs. But after his father basically called you a breeding cow, you stopped being... interesting.

It got to the point that you were barely even talking to Naoya; simply presenting to him whenever he wanted to fuck. That pissed him off. Usually you'd at least call him a name or insult him! What snapped you out of this little lull was Naoya himself; told you he secretly cared. A harsh slap to your face and your cheeks squished between the Alpha's masculine, strong hand, and you were sorted! Well it was a little more than that... Naoya gave you a good talk too, tellin' you that you were more than just an incubator for his heirs, you were his after all; and verbatim "Nothing that's mine is so boring and surface-level". So you sucked it up. All the opinions for the rest of the clan didn't matter anymore; you simply didn't care. Sure, you would produce an heir, you would produce many. But what a kick in the balls to all of the traditionalist cunts in the Zenin clan it would be, if you raised your pups to be the exact opposite of what they wanted. And when you promised that to Naoya, his grin couldn't of stretched any wider.

I feel like this was really shit. Sorry. But i did really wanna get more omegaverse out cause I love it so so much! And Naoya is fucking hot.

[chuluoyi]

only if you are up for a challenge. Naoya Zenin x f!reader in which he got her pregnant, then she left out of fear and he found her again and won't let her go :)))

when you loved me

- zen'in naoya x reader

you loved him... but you have had enough of the shit you've experienced—his arrogance, horrible family and another woman—and decided to leave him for the sake of yourself and your child

genre/warnings: angst to comfort, implied cheating, most likely ooc, honestly i almost made it a vs naoya fic with no consolation, happy ending aka naoya is decent

note: this ask... has been collecting dust in my askbox for about SIX MONTHS HAHAH, so sorry anon. i'll just leave it here and let it burn however just bc i don’t want to delete what i’ve written :’)

general masterlist

"How... how could you?"

Once, you thought, you were in love with Zen'in Naoya.

Well, you couldn't deny that he had personality flaws, but deep down, at one point in your life, you still believed that he too loved you.

You stared at him through tears brimming in your eyes, and he was just there, looking at the little being in your arms with a mix of shock and... something else you couldn't name. Dismay? Disappointment? Black rage?

"Go away, Naoya," you declared through your gritted teeth, pulling the baby in your arms even closer to you, as though fearing he might do something drastic. No way in hell would you let him after what he made you go through.

His eyes twitched as he tried to hold himself back from losing it. He took a few deep breathes in order to stay composed.

“Y/N, answer me,” he growled, still with the same condescending tone you remembered nine months ago, when you resolutely decided to leave him. “Is that baby mine?”

This was absolute madness. You had driven him insane. Naoya was certain he would go feral on you after you boldly left him without a trace, and when he found you, you were cradling this baby in your arms—which he was absolutely sure, enough to bet on his life, that the little thing was also his.

The woman he loves has given birth to his child.

You had imagined all sort of scenarios in which this very event would occur. This was one of them actually.

“No,” you firmly replied, gaze hardening. “Not yours. So kindly let yourself out of my house, Naoya.”

“Absolute bullshit!” he shouted and you flinched. His sudden rise of voice also woke the poor baby in your arms.

His heart hammered inside his chest. There were many things that made a mess of his head. You running away from him. The nights of madness he went through, wondering where you were and if you were alright. And now, the fact you had his baby without him ever knowing.

“Where were you? Why did you leave— you were having my—”

Fuck, he didn’t even know if he had a son or daughter.

You tried to console your child, now tears also streaming down your cheeks too. But it was more of frustration and anger rather than fear. “Can you blame me? Zen’in Naoya, you have made my life hell!”

“Hell?” It felt like an total insult to his pride. “How—!”

“You!” you screamed at his face. “I’ve had enough of your shit! And not to mention your father—that horrible drunkard who always looks down on me and treats me as if I were some gold digger! And also the whole of your goddamn, entitled clan—they always harass me right in front of my face!”

All of this stunned him on this place. Truth to be told, he knew a little to nothing at all about what his kin had done to you.

“I don’t need your family’s wealth! I can live on my own just fine even with your bastard!” Your tirade still hadn’t ended, but you had to put your baby on her cot first and dismiss her ever growing cries because you were tired of all of this. This life. This absolute nightmare that was caused by one fatal mistake of falling in love with Zen’in Naoya.

“But what the fuck? You’re asking why I left? How dare you ask me that after what you did!”

“What did I even do?!” His denial made a blood vessel about to burst inside your brain. “You never fucking told me what my father did! If only you did, I would have—”

“Look, you don’t even acknowledge it!” You were so tired of this. You wished you could die and just end all of this mental suffering. Why did this have to happen to you out of a billion people out there?

And yet, still, ultimately, you were happy with him. Those memories of the two of you together, just idyllically spending time together, or sometimes even playfully clashing opinions— to you, they were irreplaceable.

So, that's why...

Your heart shattered at the screeching cries of your baby. But you had to slam this in Naoya’s face.

“That was the last straw—seeing you with that fucking woman, you insufferable, demented, cheating bastard!”

That string of profanities you screamed at his face made Naoya finally lost it, as he gripped you tightly and his eyes flared with pure white-hot anger. “Say that again—say that again, you—!”

A toe-curling scream ripped out of your baby and you wrenched yourself out of his grasp through sheer will. Naoya was left reeling as he watched your horrified expression, as you plucked the baby into your arms again.

“Shh, shh,” you shushed your child amidst your own quivering lips. “Mama is here… Don’t cry…”

Right at that moment, it was as if something had pierced his chest and left a gaping hole. He really had a living baby. That baby was crying because of him.

The sting of the anger was still there, but now guilt started to overpower it as he regained his cool somewhat. “Is that a—” his breath hitched. He had to know. At the very, very least he had to know.

You didn’t immediately answer. You were still absolutely heartbroken by how it all turned out. But above all else, you could no longer deny him of his own child.

“A girl,” you sniffled.

A daughter. A daughter— in the one split second after knowing that, Naoya made the quickest decision of his life.

“Come back. Live with me,” he said, resolute. “You’re the mother of my child—I won’t let anyone lay their hand on you again. You have my word.”

Women are pain in the ass. That was what he used to think. Until you. Not when it's you. It astounded even himself how the sight of you like this was enough to drive knives into his chest.

“Look, that’s not it,” your tears were now falling free and fast, unable to hold it back longer. “How can you ask me that—when you went behind my back with another woman? Naoya, I love you—loved you. But isn’t this too cruel? How can you do this to me?”

“What woman are you talking about?” He tried to compose himself, but your accusation of him with someone whose existence he didn’t even know was getting in his nerves. “I have never been unfaithful to you! I know we don't always agree to things, but do you really think that low of me?”

“Evidently, I saw you with her. Your father made it a point that she’s your next plaything—or possibly even, fiancée!”

There was a memory that sprung into his head when you mentioned that. He recalled that vain, stupid woman, and he definitely remembered telling his father that he refused her. It wasn’t long before you disappeared.

Now everything clicked.

“Listen to me,” Naoya started, jaw clenching. “Whatever my father told you—those are all lies. I turned her down right there and then. I wouldn’t do that to you. You know that. You should have known that.”

Sobs wrecked your body and soul at this point. You knew where your place was. Zen’in Naoya was a man outside your league, his family made it so clear to you that you were nothing but dirt in their eyes. And perhaps that was why, back then, you chose to protect yourself and left him, believing he was capable of that too.

And now before you, you could see the man you loved once again.

“Come back to me.” His gaze burned you. “This time, for sure, I won’t let anyone touch you— I won’t let them even say a word about you! I will marry you, and we will raise our daughter together.”

“I… I don’t want to live there, Naoya…” you sobbed. You hated that place. Like hell would you have your pride stomped and deceived again.

“Alright, if that’s what you want. We won’t live there. You won’t have to see any of their faces again.”

Gazing into your face, marked by trails of tears, he finally, finally felt his heart break. And he thought, that in front of him now was the only woman who could upturn his whole trajectory.

“Just… come back. To me. I will take care of you. I swear it.”

[tojisprettywife]

{note: i rewrote this, with b.s.t (hope someone gets the reference 🧍🏻‍♀️) anyway i cried, it got deleted first. i’m sleepy, hopefully it’s okay. minors DNI.}

warnings: smut. characters! m! x f! reader. characters are aged up to 21.

inexperienced men. who for the very first time feel, what a pussy feels like. your gummy, warm walls clenching around his throbbing cock. the way he clenches his jaw and gritting his teeth, to regain composure from cumming almost immediately. “f-fuck…so tight ..”. your pulsing soft walls suck his cock in, barely holding himself up. the way his soft, silky locks fall on your chest as he’s hunched over you. only gasps, curses and more whimpers slipping out of his lips. “so.. t—tight.. shit..”. pushing his full length into, till the base, gripping the plush of your hips, a bit too hard, in meek attempts to stop himself from painting your tight walls white. after what seems like forever, he slowly moves his hips, each stroke, sending shivers down his spine. he leans down to kiss you, again in attempts to keep him from moaning loud. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, his tongue lapping yours. but soon, the kissing gets sloppy, saliva dripping down both your chins. he leans down, burying his face into the crook of your neck. his teeth grazing the base of your neck, as his hips erratically, in haste buck against yours. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, filling the room combined with his little whimpers and yours. “i-i’m cum-ming… f-fuck” he buries himself to the hilt, pushes himself even deeper, his tip bruising your cervix. his eyes squeezed shut, biting down your shoulder lightly. his cock, pumping ropes of milky, sticky cum. his cock twitching inside you, panting against your neck. just as he catches his breath, your walls convulse around his twitching cock, overstimulating. “o- fuckkk.. f..ck” barely able to form coherent sentences, slurring his words. burying his face into the pillow, beside your head, to stifle his moans. muffled moans, teary eyes as one hand gripped your waist tightly, bruising them lightly and the other hand gripping the sheets, crumpling them. his first feel of a vaginal orgasm. he presses soft kisses from your jawline to your neck, “it feels… so good.. one more time?.. please baby?..”. no longer will his hands suffice for him, as he felt what heaven feels like, you.

~ Choso Kamo, Gojo Satoru, Oikawa Toru, Nagi Seishiro, Inumaki Toge, Miya Atsumu, Yuuji Itadori, Kageyama Tobio + whoever you want 😵‍💫

[annievrse]

imgonnagetyouback

sukuna x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb

"where is he?" and by the tone of his gravelly voice, you know sukuna is angry. but not at you, never at you.

shoko points to the living room of satoru's house; a throng of college kids holler at the sight of being noticed by her.

"oh, shut up," shoko spits at her peers, wiping away the stray tear that rolls down your cheek. you look up at your ex-boyfriend, eyes sad and dried tears painting your cheeks.

his expression morphs into a snarl. "i'm gonna kill him."

"kuna," you mumble, grabbing his hand as he passes. stopping, he clenches his jaw. "you don't need to defend my honour anymore. i was stupid enough to get involved with him. i'll handle it."

sukuna clicks his tongue. he warned you about naoya zenin long before you even met the man. but despite the break-up being mutual, you felt you needed to punish yourself for letting go of someone who'd move heaven and earth for you. so, in bitterness, you decided to get back at sukuna (and yourself) by going out with naoya.

instead, naoya was worse than sukuna forewarned. your ex-boyfriend wasn't going to tell you, 'i told you so,' because he felt he deserved to see you with him. sukuna deserved to be punished for letting you go.

"i'm not above begging if it means i can make him unrecognisable, baby."

you let out a puff of air close to a laugh and shake your head. shoko gives you a look, one that you know well. it doesn't take much for you to change your mind. sukuna does not beg. the gleam in his eye does nothing but make you roll your eyes and succumb.

"fine," you huff. "make it quick."

sukuna's tongue pokes the inside of his cheek while his lips pull into a smile. "glad to be of service."

he leans down to kiss the top of your head and mumbles something incoherent against your hair — but you know exactly what he said. you grab his tricep and give it a squeeze. sukuna lowers his face before yours, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips.

"have fun," you tease, pressing your mouth to his cheek.

"i always do." and then he's gone, glancing over his shoulder to wink at you.

"what am i gonna do with him?" you sigh, watching sukuna shove through the crowd to reach naoya.

shoko says nothing. she clutches your hand between hers and shrugs. for the first time in her life, she has no witty response.

and at the first roar of both encouragement and surprise from your fellow college kids, you smile. shoko pulls you up to stand.

"you two are made for each other," shoko mumbles, watching the proud grin on your face. you barely hear her over the oohs of the crowd, and you know he's making you proud.

[tojipie]

Crybaby gf x Toji explains my life so simply, and I’ve been reading them like once since day omg. I’m so obsessed with it. I was wondering if i could please request one where someone is passive aggressive towards her, maybe someone from the zenin clan?

content: crybaby reader, violence, blood, fighting, (happy ending :3 !)

what i've come to accept is that I simply cannot stop writing toji resorting to violence when reader's feelings get hurt

˚ ✧ ──────────────────

It had been years since Toji had attended a family event like this. a clan reunion dinner of sorts. You’d been cautious after receiving a sealed envelope with the Zenin crest last month, reluctantly passing it to Toji after he’d gotten home from work.

“How do they know where I fucking live… freaks,” he mutters, eyes scanning the parchment before blowing wide after reading what the invite was for.

“Wait, Naoya's engaged?” he laughs, folding the letter up and handing it back to you. 

Naoya. You'd heard that name once or twice from him. Never anything good.

“What's so funny?” you ask.

“Nothing," He laughs. "Just didn’t think it’d be to a woman.”

˚ ✧ ──────────

Toji pulls your seat out for you, letting you scooch in until your stomach presses up against the table. The raven-haired man settles in the seat next to you with a sigh, drumming on the table absentmindedly as the rest of his estranged family files in.

You feel ten, maybe fifteen pairs of emerald eyes bore into you in the few moments it takes for everyone to settle. Servants in black and white uniforms weave in and out of the room, their heads low as they hand out drinks.

The family had barely tolerated Toji for years. The family reject bringing an outsider as his plus one clearly wasn't helping. You brace yourself for the cacophony of whispers from the other women at the table, slinking into your seat to try and appear smaller. 

Except, the insults never come. A certain lithe blond had already captured the room’s attention, graciously greeting each guest with a confident smile. 

“You’ve grown so much Naoya.” An older woman gushes, patting his cheek. He accepts the affection warmly. 

He seems nice enough, you think to yourself. Watching as his smile morphs into a look of disgust as soon as she sits back down. 

Right, never cast judgment too quickly.

Naoya acts fast, snatching a perfectly folded handkerchief from his suit’s front pocket, to scrub the spot she’d touched. He tosses the fabric to a passing waitress, stealing a glass of wine off of her serving platter before downing the entire thing in two gulps.

So this was the infamous blond. Toji’s bratty cousin and subsequent family nemesis. Interesting. 

"So where's his fiance?" You whisper to Toji, trying to make yourself small at his side.

"Dunno," he snorts, "They probably won't meet each other til' their wedding day." He explains. Weird.

Newly inspired, you decide to take a sip from your own glass, wincing at the harsh aftertaste that blooms on your tongue. 

“Too strong?” Toji asks softly. You nod sheepishly, thanking him as he switches your glass for his cup of water.

“Definitely the real stuff.” You mutter, trying not to gag. 

“They’ve been aging this stuff since he was born,” Toji explains. “Family tradition, everyone gets a barrel that the family cracks open at one point or another.”

“So when are we opening your barrel?” 

Toji pauses, a faint playful smile on his lips.

“Shit, you think the family dud gets a barrel?” He doesn’t look hurt at the admission, but the creases around his eyes tell a different story.

An older man saunters up to the two of you, clapping Toji on the back before you can say anything.

“How long has it been my boy?” He exclaims, pulling the younger man into a hug and stepping back to give him a once-over.

Maybe an uncle, you think. They share the same hearty laugh.

Toji chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Couple years at least.”

“This your lady?” The older man asks, shooting you a wink. 

Strange, you realize this is the first anyone in the room besides Toji had acknowledged you tonight. 

“You know it,” Toji remarks fondly, laughing as the Uncle makes a quip you can’t quite hear before returning to his seat.

Nayoa kisses his teeth loudly, locking eyes with you from across the table. His words are loud when he cuts in, the room going silent as he speaks.

“So were you trying to water down your bloodline when you chose her?” A few partygoers laugh. 

Your eyes frantically scan the room, confirming your worst fear. Almost everyone was laughing at the two of you. Your vision blurs as tears gather in the corner of your eyes.

Naoya smiles coyly, leaning forward as he continues. “Or do you like the thought of children that are as useless as you ar–”

“You shut the fuck up when I’m talking.” Toji seethes, pointing the prongs of his fork in the direction of the blond. You feel every eye in the room bore into the both of you, jagged emeralds picking your every atom apart. Toji doesn’t seem to care, chest heaving as he waits for a response.

Naoya's smile fades. The younger man looks Toji up and down before taking a long sip from his cup of wine.

“I guess we have our answer.” He teases, reveling in the tauntful laughs that his joke earns.

Your stomach churns painfully, eyes zoning in on the glass of wine Toji had stolen from you earlier. Would downing the whole thing somehow get you drunk enough to forget this entire ordeal? If there was a time to leave, it would be now.

“Baby,” you mutter, tugging on the waist of Toji’s dress pants. “Let’s just go.”

“Fuck that,” your boyfriend spits, glaring down his shit-faced little cousin. You glue your eyes to the floor.

“Say it again.” He commands, his tone incredulous.

“What? That whatever spawn you two crank out will be duds?” Naoya asks innocently. “You can’t possibly be mad at me for pointing out the obvious?”

You feel Toji’s warmth leave your side as your boyfriend launches forward, knocking plates out of the way as he barrels over the table and tackles his cousin.

The table erupts in hysterics, the older men in the room urge the two of them to break it up while the women stare into their plates, horrified. You swear you hear a baby crying.

“Let me go you fucking ape!” you hear the blond grunt, driving his knee into Toji’s ribcage repeatedly as your boyfriend attempts to hold him down by the shoulders. Crimson rivets of blood leak down from Naoya's nose, accentuating the cracks in his lips.

You scurry back from the table, hand over your mouth as you take in the debacle. That churning feeling in your stomach has been replaced by something… much different. 

Something thick and viscous in the depths of your soul. Something saccharine sweet that makes your head swim.

Toji looked, for lack of a better word, fucking hot like this.

His hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead, blood splattered across his cheek, face contorted in a manic smile so wide that the corner of his lips threatened to split. And he was doing it in defense of you. His sweet girl.

Your boyfriend manages to pin Naoya’s arm behind his back, pressing his weight forward and bending it at an angle that elicits a yelp from the younger man. Toji grabs him by the scruff of his neck, angling his head so Naoya is forced to look you in the eyes.

“Apologize.” He commands his voice a low, menacing rasp that sends a chill down your spine. The others in the room feel less important as the gravity of the situation washes over you.

Naoya laughs like it's the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“For what?” he spits, glaring at you through silky black-tipped bangs.

You flinch as the blond’s head is slammed down onto the tablecloth, his cheek squished into the plain linen by a hand large enough to dwarf his entire skull.

“I said, apologize,” Toji states plainly, his tone harsh and unwavering.

Naoya pants, eyes darting around the room as if searching for someone—anyone—brave enough to intervene. No one moves.

The younger man seems to mull it over, giving in as his arm twists to its limit.

“I’'m-- shit! I'm sorry,” He grunts, gasping in relief as your boyfriend releases him from his grip.

The room remains silent. A few relatives exchange horrified glances. The tension is suffocating, yet you can’t help but feel a flicker of triumph.

Toji saunters back into his seat like nothing happened, glancing up through his hair to address the room.

“Eat,” It isn't a suggestion. 

The scraping of utensils against plates resumes hesitantly, the family too shaken to address the elephant in the room.

You sit quietly, your heart still racing. Toji’s hand finds your thigh under the table, his touch firm and grounding. 

The rest of the meal passes in awkward silence, punctuated only by the occasional cough or clink of silverware. Naoya sits at the far end of the table, mercilessly scrubbing at the blood that stains the front of his pristine white dress shirt.

When the meal is over, Toji doesn’t wait for the formalities to begin. He stands abruptly, helping you to your feet. “Get up,” he commands, a tender hand finding its home on the small of your back.

The two of you stride out of the room, the weight of a dozen judging stares on your back. The moment you’re outside, Toji lets out a soft chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“Did you see his face?” he says, grinning like a man who’s just won the lottery. Toji holds his arm behind his back just like he had done to his cousin, forcing an exaggeratedly pained look.

You can’t help it—you laugh, a real, unrestrained laugh that shakes the tension from your body. 

“You’re insane,” you manage between giggles.

"Maybe,” he smirks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walk toward the car. 

[rubywithecat]

Fitting their size (JjK men)

Warning: Minors do not interact as this content contains mature theme. Please note that this is just a fiction and feel free to skip if you find any discomfort. Thanks for love and support<33

Gojo Satoru

-You had been with ur exes before and was sure they weren’t small but Gojo is just different. When he revealed his cock, you were horrified about how is it gonna fit inside you. “Don’t worry” he reassured, sensing your thoughts. “I’ll make it fit”. You moaned loudly as he thrusted inside you. “It’s just half yet, bby” he groaned. “Urs is so tight. I bet those guys before me are just losers, huh?” He lazily smirk with cockiness. His beautiful hair strands falling on his face as u admire him from bottom. U felt like heavy to him and when he’s finally fully inside you, you grabbed his back tightly that your nails scratched his. “It’s… so good Satoru” u praised him. He smiled. “I know”

Suguru Geto

- You were all sweaty as his big arms pinned you down on the king-sized bed. He kissed you as his thick fingers entered inside your cunt. It was so tight. “M-mm. It’s so tight for even my hand so how will we make my cock fit, huh?” He teased you. “It won’t?” You asked, worried. He laughed. “Ofc, silly. It will. We just need a lil bit of foreplaying” he smirked as he got up from bed and came back with a vibrator. “What is that?” You asked, cluelessly. “U will see” he replied as he activated it and slowly put inside u as u grabbed his neck and screamed his name. “Don’t cum yet. Spare it for my cock” he ordered.

Naoya Zen’in

- “Don’t try to resist me, girl” he said as he unbelt his pants. “Well, how big—“ u couldn’t finished talking when u saw his. “Nah I don’t think it will fit inside” you complained. “I said don’t resist” he aggressively opened your leg and pulled you closer. “You just need to trust me and follow the flow. Ur pussy will love it” he smirked. You were very embarrassed in your position and couldn’t look at him. He lied down on top of you as he kissed your lips passionately. “Look at me as I put inside you” he whispered into your ears. “And I wanna hear your fcking moan so don’t be shy and don’t hold back”

Sukuna Ryomen

-“This may hurt” he said and even before you said anything, he entered inside you without warning. “Oh god!” you screamed. “Tell me how good is it” he chocked on your neck. “Sukuna, it’s hurt” you tried to say. “U will feel pleasure later, endure it” he demanded. You don’t hate it either. You love him and his cock. And seeing how your pussy adjusted to it quickly, he was satisfied. “See? I told ya you will love it, yeah?” It was humiliating the way he says but ur in the position of high organsm so you screamed his name loudly as he released inside. “I’m not finished yet” he said.

Toji Fushiguro

- He closed your mouth with his big hands as he put his tip inside you. “Don’t scream” he warned. “Don’t want Megumi to wake up” he said as you nodded obidently. “Good girl” he smirked. As he put more of his length, you tried your best to not made a sound but you accidentally about to let out a groan as he nearly entered fully inside you. You bit his arms for support. “That hurts” he whispered. “I’m sorry” u apologized. He shook his head softly. “Nah Don’t be. I can show off to others that ur mine” he said. He made one strong thrust inside which immediately reached your gspot and u could t deacribed how much pleasure ur getting. “Toji! Don’t stop!” U said as he slapped ur ass. “What did I say, princess? No sound” he ordered.

——

[kingkatsuki]

Do your blorbos ever look at each other inside your blorbo mansion and wonder “what the fuck is that guy doing here?”

[dollfacefantasy]

THE LUCKY ONES ♡

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader x naoya zen'in

summary: after he disrespects you at a party, you and satoru teach naoya a little lesson in manners.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, threesome, p in v, oral sex (m + f receiving), misogyny, humiliation kink, orgasm delay/denial

a/n: comm for @nexysworld!! reblogs & comments are always appreciated <3

Lanterns lined the stone pathway leading to the main hall of Jujutsu High. The decorated lights dangled from the trees and swayed in the light wind blowing across Jujutsu Tech’s courtyard. Naoya had never been to the Tokyo campus. His eyes scanned the decorations before taking in the large building before him. Swaths of people hovered around the entrance. He supposed the higher-ups wanted to make a big deal out of this event. It wasn’t every day that the three families struck a deal like they had last week.

Despite the joy plastered on the faces of everyone around him, his expression remained neutral. He walked in silence next to his father. In a way, he was excited. This was the first event he would be attending not as the son of Naobito, but instead, as the future leader of the Zen’in Clan. And future leaders didn’t walk around with goofy smiles or a lot of pep in their step. They stayed cool and calm, projected their strength through their presence alone. Naobito had done as much for Naoya’s entire life, so that was how the younger man planned on acting tonight.

The delicate hum of string music drifted through the air from the building ahead. It grew louder as they approached, though the chatter of sorcerers sprinkled all around drowned it out a decent amount.

A small group of students lingered near the main doors of the place. Naoya kept his golden eyes straight ahead. He hoped that because they were already outside that meant they would be leaving soon. That way he wouldn’t have to talk to his useless cousins. While he’d normally relish a chance to taunt the twins, soon-to-be clan heads didn’t engage in petty squabbles like that.

Naobito crossed the threshold into the party first, and Naoya followed right after. The lights inside burned brighter than the muted ones outdoors. Gatherings of people circled around tables set up throughout the place. They laughed and talked over plates of lavish food and glasses of expensive drinks.

There was also a bar set up to the side of the room. Even though it wasn’t the main attraction by any means, Naobito locked onto it after only a few seconds.

“If you need anything, you know where I’ll be,” he said with a grin, not even looking in Naoya’s direction before taking off the other way.

Grimacing at his father’s pathetic display, he crossed his arms. Not that he would admit it, but Naoya felt a little lost standing all by himself at the front of this event. He recognized a lot of these people, but he’d never spoken to them. His father was the one who was supposed to help weave him into the social fabric of this place. Everyone knew Naobito, and there was always something to talk about with the reigning head of the clan.

Naoya, on the other hand, took a few steps forward and honestly felt like he might be invisible. At home, people looked when he entered a room. They stood at attention and recognized the greatness that was their future patriarch.

Here no one spared him a glance.

He scratched at his elbow and continued on into the main part of the room where most of the people had conglomerated. At the very least, he could grab some food and figure out what to do from there. He slithered around statuesque men and women with cold eyes. 

The glare on his face grew more severe as all of them failed to acknowledge him. He was above every last one, and he knew it. They just couldn’t see that yet.

When he finally reached a clear spot near the railing of a large staircase, he heard a laugh that rang familiar to him. Turning his head, he spotted the source standing a few feet up on the landing. He wasn’t hard to find. Standing at six foot three put Satoru Gojo above most of the other heads in the crowd. And even though he hadn’t seen him in nearly a decade, Naoya recognized those snowy white locks right away.

A small smile bloomed across his face despite himself. Finally, he’d found someone here on his level. He stifled the look of happiness before rounding the bannister and making his way up the couple steps that separated them.

“Satoru,” he called out.

The other man paused his conversation to find who wanted his attention. A dark scrap of cloth covered his eyes now. Even with it there, Naoya could still picture the cerulean irises that lie beneath. They were impossible to forget. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so pure in color before or since.

He couldn’t see Satoru’s pupils either, but he felt them fixate on his form when the other man finally stopped the search for who had spoken his name. A second went by before his lips quirked up another inch.

“Naoya, right?” he asked in return.

Now the smile was truly gone from the younger sorcerer’s face.

Right?

Why was he asking ‘right’ like he wasn’t sure? Like he didn’t remember Naoya. He was the future head of the fucking Zen’in Clan for Heaven’s sake. He’d spoken to Satoru before. He’d asked him questions about leading a clan and holding that kind of power. He wasn’t just someone you let slip from your memory like a background actor you still didn’t know the name of after seeing them over and over again in movies.

He’d admired Satoru, but clearly, the sentiment had been one-sided.

Instead of pitching a fit though, he maintained his composure like a clan head should. 

“Of course,” he scoffed.

Satoru didn’t seem to take offense to the irritation in his tone. He just chuckled and shrugged.

“Sorry. Took me a second. You look pretty different,” he said.

A plume of heat rose to Naoya’s cheeks. He could only hope it didn’t show through his skin in a light tint of pink. While he wanted to continue to ruminate over this perceived injustice, he realized Satoru was right. Back when they’d seen each other last during his early days as head of the Gojo Clan, Naoya didn’t have all the piercings he now wore. His hair had been its natural inky black rather than the harsh blonde that covered his locks now. In the same way that he took a moment to recognize himself in old photos, Satoru needed a second to recall the man he probably hadn’t thought of in almost ten years.

However, the more irrational part of Naoya still felt like he should’ve known anyways.

“So do you,” he huffed. “You look older.”

That brought a laugh from Satoru. “Right,” he responded, clearly nothing but amused at the quip.

In truth, Naoya meant what he said. He just didn’t mean it as an insult. Satoru didn’t look old at all. He just looked older. Over the eight or nine years since he used to stop by the estate for talks with Naobito, he’d grown into his features. Back then, he appeared gangly, like his body had been made a size too big. He walked around on his skinny legs with exaggerated confidence. His large hands always seemed like they didn’t know whether to droop by his sides or stay shoved in his pockets.

Naoya remembered watching him strut by from the edges of the gardens. He couldn’t believe that was who everyone called the strongest. A guy whose pants didn’t even seem to fit him right. There was no way someone wearing trousers that left their deathly pale ankles in full view was considered king of the Jujutsu world.

But as he stood before him now, Satoru looked like the god everyone described him to be. His giant stature was accentuated by healthy amounts of muscle mass. Instead of lingering around with an awkward hunch, he kept his shoulders back. His chest puffed outwards, and his arms rested naturally by his hips. The violet suit he wore hung on his body without an imperfection in sight. It covered everything it should. Maybe even covered a little too much.

“Well how are you? I didn’t know you were coming tonight. What’s it been? Ten years?” Satoru asked, pulling the younger man from his thoughts.

“Something like that… I’m great, actually. You probably already know, but I’m head of the Hei. And I’m going to be head of the clan soon,” Naoya said.

Satoru’s brows rose a bit, but not with genuine surprise. “Soon, huh? Does Naobito know that?” he teased.

Naoya sneered, curling his lip like a provoked dog. “Of course he does. I’m his heir. That’s why he brought me here tonight. To learn how to associate with all of you,” he spat. “What is it that you do now? You’re a teacher, right?”

“Something like that,” Satoru answered, his own expression cocky as ever. He took a few seconds to just stare at the Zen’in before him. “You look different, Naoya, but you really haven’t changed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped. He had changed. He’d changed a lot in the years since he was eighteen. Back then he was an adult by age, but now he was a man in the truest sense of the word.

Before Satoru could explain his comment, a smaller hand wrapped around his bicep. The faint touch pulled his attention away from the conversation, and his body shifted to reveal who he’d been talking to previously.

You came into Naoya’s view. Some woman he’d never seen. Like everyone else in this place, you were shorter than the head of the Gojo Clan. Your eyes gazed up at the honored one with a bright twinkle of admiration. 

Naoya watched, expecting Satoru to dismiss you or even reprimand you for interrupting a conversation you had no place in. But that didn’t happen. Instead, the taller man smiled at you. He took your hand and pulled you closer, tucking you under his long arm against his side. The deep purple of his suit jacket complemented the lilac silk of your dress. For a moment, it almost looked as though the two of you were a couple…

“Naoya, there’s someone I should introduce you to,” he started.

“Is this your wife?” he interrupted immediately. He didn’t see any rings, but that would explain why Satoru was being so lenient with you. He thought better of the strongest sorcerer, yet to Naoya’s absolute dismay, he knew that most non-Zen’in men didn’t make an effort to control their women.

Satoru laughed at that assumption while you gave a timid smile and stood up a little straighter.

“No, not my wife. She may keep me in line like one, but officially, she’s my assistant. She just started working at the school. Yaga thought I needed some help with organization and that she needed a little extra instruction on her cursed energy,” he explained before shrugging. “Marriage or not, I guess we are kind of a match made in heaven.”

Naoya rolled his eyes at that. “Please. I doubt any divine being would pair you with a woman. Let alone one so below your status.”

Your features scrunched with indignation, and for the first time since arriving, Naoya felt in his element. Though he still couldn’t believe you actually worked at the school. You didn’t look like a sorcerer. You looked like a piece of arm-candy. Your shiny dress was too tight and revealing for an employee of the school. Your hair was too styled and pretty for anyone who wanted to be taken seriously. Really, your face was just too cute for a life of combat.

Despite your reaction to the words, Satoru remained composed. “The rest of the world doesn’t live by the Zen’in Clan’s backward rules, Naoya. While you’re here, you’ll speak about everyone with respect,” he said, cool as could be.

And that really lit Naoya’s fire. Not only was Satoru going to let you interrupt and masquerade as someone worth anything, he was going to defend you? He gritted his teeth and stared down the two of you.

“She hasn’t done anything to earn my respect,” he seethed, fist clenched.

“You’re not giving her the chance to. How is she supposed to earn your respect when you’ve already decided she doesn’t deserve it?” he asked.

The question left Naoya without an answer. Humiliation began to cloud his mind as he scrambled for a defense. He knew he was right. You didn’t deserve his respect by virtue of the very way you were acting. You could earn it by behaving how you were meant to, subservient and deferential. AKA looking pretty while standing silently by Satoru’s side.

However, he knew saying that would only worsen Satoru’s opinion of him, and as much as he disagreed with him on his treatment of the opposite sex, he still wanted his fellow clan head’s favor.

Luckily, Satoru saved him from stewing in his embarrassment any longer. “How about you try starting over?” he offered.

It was a gesture of compromise, but it only mortified Naoya further. Satoru was only one year older than him, yet he was speaking like he would to a misbehaving child. There was no other way out though, so he reluctantly nodded.

“There we go,” Satoru praised. He then spoke your name and title like it was the true beginning of the conversation. Naoya had been right. He’d never heard of you before.

You stuck out your hand with a cordial smile. “Pleased to meet you,” you said as if he hadn’t insulted you only a minute ago.

Seeing your outstretched limb nearly sent a wave of nausea through Naoya. The two of you really expected him to shake a woman’s hand. To act as though you were his equal.

He paused and hesitated, but the weight of the six eyes compelled him to grasp your palm and give it a shake.

“I’m sure you are,” he said. 

He gripped your hand as hard as he could, wishing he could break every bone beneath the smooth flesh. The smallest semblance of pain flickered in your eye, but you continued the shake just as long as he did. Part of him wished for you to cry out. To look towards Satoru for help, desperation swirling in your eyes as you realized you needed someone superior to save you.

But instead, the only subject of Satoru’s attention was Naoya. He watched as the younger man loosened his grip on you and allowed the interaction to end.

“Good boy,” he teased, “See how much better things are when you play nice?”

Obviously, it was meant to be a joke, but the words stoked the flames inside Naoya in a totally different way than before. Now the heat radiating in his chest didn’t come from anger, but rather something less ugly. The warmth that crawled up his neck and spread across his cheeks felt less harsh. It was something much sweeter.

“Whatever,” he grumbled and looked away in an effort to conceal his blush.

From the lofted walkway nearby, a deep voice called out for Satoru. The three of you looked toward it in sync, finding Masamichi Yaga waving for the white-haired sorcerer.

“Looks like I’m needed elsewhere. You two behave yourselves. I don’t want to be breaking up any fights later,” Satoru teased, patting you on the head before walking away.

Naoya stared at you so hard it seemed as though he was trying to burrow a hole in your head with his gaze alone. Why did YOU get the parting inside joke? Why did you get the friendly end of the warning while Naoya was left excluded? You were an assistant. Barely even a sorcerer, yet Satoru acted as though he respected you more. Ridiculous.

Once he had departed and begun his ascent to Yaga, you returned your focus to Naoya.

“So now that Naobito plans on working with the other families in a larger capacity, do you think you’ll be involved with the schools more? Maybe not here but in Kyoto?” you asked.

The question wasn’t backhanded or manipulative. Your eyes didn’t reflect with condescension or arrogance. It seemed as though you were genuinely trying to start over. To give Naoya the benefit of the doubt. To believe he could overcome the attitude that had been instilled in him since he learned to read. You spoke with a genuine effort to connect with this man who had so disregarded you.

Unfortunately, it was an effort he had no interest in.

Brushing you off with a wave of his hand, he started after Satoru. “Don’t speak to me unless it’s to ask if I want a drink,” he spat in parting, leaving you staring at his back in disbelief.

He kept his distance, taking the steps at an even pace to project the image of nonchalance. Satoru’s back was to him now, so it wasn’t like he would see. But he still wanted to avoid anyone thinking he was clingy. Or needy. Or desperate.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Satoru had already integrated with the group of higher-ups who summoned him. Naoya wondered what they could be talking about. It couldn’t be anything too important or else they would have asked for him too. But it didn’t look like anything fun either as Satoru’s plush pink lips rested in a bored line.

The blonde sorcerer stuck to walking along the railing that overlooked the lower level of the party. He played it off like he was just wandering, getting a better view of everything that was happening. But his peripheral kept Satoru in his line of sight at all times. 

He wanted so badly to interject and be included in whatever matters all of them were discussing. These were the leaders of the Jujutsu world. The people who made all the decisions. It was a conversation he deserved to be a part of.

They probably wrote the Zen’ins off on instinct, and he couldn’t really blame them with how Naobito was currently downstairs drinking himself blind. But he could show them that would all be changing soon if only they’d give him the chance. The Zen’ins would be strong once again. With him at the head, they’d have power and influence. Under his rule, they’d be a part of this world along with the other families. Him and Satoru, side by side could lead their clans into this new generation of Jujutsu and leave his father and company in the dust where they belonged.

In the midst of outlining this mental manifesto, he caught the end of the nearby conversation. Satoru turned away from the gaggle of old men, his shoulders relaxing slightly with the freedom. Naoya turned too. He faced the opposite direction and grabbed onto the wooden bannister. Hopefully Satoru wouldn’t suspect he’d been doing exactly what he had been, watching in envy.

Only a couple of seconds passed before he felt a hand clap over his shoulder. Satoru then followed, sliding into his left field of vision.

“You stalking me or something?” he quipped. “Thought I left you downstairs with my right hand.”

Naoya rolled his eyes, but he kept his tone neutral. “I got bored. I’ve never been here before. I thought I’d look around a bit and get to know the place better.”

“And you planned on doing that by lingering around me?” he smirked.

“No, I- I’m not lingering around you. I just-” he defended, shooting a glare towards Satoru. 

Oh, how Naoya hated this. How was it so easy for this man to twist things around and tie people into knots using only his words? It was horrible, like constantly walking into verbal traps he didn’t even know were set. Talking with Satoru meant accepting this constant feeling of embarrassment in his belly, coming to terms with the fact that every word he spoke amused the strongest sorcerer.

“It’s ok. It’s kind of funny. Reminds me of when we were younger. You used to trail after me when I’d visit the estate, ask me tons of questions and watch my every move. Felt like I was being studied,” he laughed.

“I did not ‘trail after you.’ You make me sound like a dog or something. I just wanted to talk to you because I knew we’d be rulers of our clans at the same time one day,” he responded, calming down a little at Satoru’s lenience with him.

“Heh. Yeah. Even back then you made it sound like Naobito was only days away from keeling over and leaving the whole thing to you,” he said.

That brought a slight frown to Naoya’s lips. He had been pining for leadership for all that time. For a second it made sense to him why he was left out. Why would the higher-ups take him seriously when it seemed like Naobito would never actually die? Why would they bother wasting their time with a potential leader who may never even come to fruition?

His grip around the railing tightened as his jaw clenched. “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Not all of us were lucky like you. Born with enough power to be seen as the leader even as a child,” Naoya huffed.

“Really? Lucky? That’s what you think of me?” Satoru chuckled, a hint of bitterness lacing the sound.

Naoya’s golden eyes looked him over from the side. “Yes. You are lucky. You get to do whatever you want-”

Now it was Satoru’s turn to interject.

“You get to do whatever you want. Do you think anybody could just waltz in here and insult a grade one sorcerer with no consequences? Could they follow me around like a pouty kid because no one else will pay any attention to them?” he asked. “You’re lucky, Naoya. You get the promise of power without any of the responsibility.”

None of the words came out with true anger, and that might have been the worst part. Satoru wasn’t passionate about this. He wasn’t enraged or furious. He couldn’t even work up a scowl for Naoya. It was like he was stating simple facts.

“Like you have so much responsibility. You have an assistant! You’re supposed to be the strongest of us all, but you need a woman to help you with your work. Pathetic,” he spat.

Satoru looked unimpressed by his assessment, but before he could respond, his phone rang. Retrieving it from his jacket’s interior pocket, he glanced at the screen and scanned the caller ID.

“Ah, no fun. I have to take this. I guess we’ll have to finish our conversation later,” he said, not waiting for Naoya’s response to turn away.

He headed over to the other side of the hallway and slipped through a sliding door. Naoya remained in place, hands still locked onto the wooden rail in front of him. Waves of heated anger rolled off of him. His mood didn’t cool off any in the face of Satoru’s dismissal.

He stared down at the rest of the party in disgust. The other guests galavanted around, talking and laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. He hated them all.

One day there wouldn’t be a person in this room who didn’t know the name Naoya Zen’in. One day they’d vie for a chance to have his attention. He may never garner enough power to surpass Satoru, but he’d wield enough influence to provide some healthy competition. 

Now, he realized Naobito probably had the right idea in keeping the other families at arm’s length.

As he thought of his father, he wondered if the old man was still working his way through the party’s liquor supply. He glanced towards the bar, expecting to see Naobito throwing another glass back by himself, but instead, he found you sitting near his father.

It might have been ok if you didn’t look so pleasant. The sight of you resigned to numbing the sting of his demeaning words with booze probably would’ve made him happy. Your misery could have alleviated him of the humiliation Satoru had just inflicted upon him. But no. You sat one stool away from Naobito with a pretty smile spread across your face, nodding along to whatever bullshit he was feeding you.

In that moment so much fucking rage filled Naoya, he thought actual flames might erupt from his head.

He let go of the structure in front of him and started towards the stairs without a second thought. Going down he took them two at a time, bumping shoulders and brushing past everyone else without so much as a nod. None of them deserved an apology anyway.

As he crossed the floor, his mind operated on autopilot, motivated by nothing but the urge to destroy. All he wanted right now was to wound you. To tear you apart and leave you tattered in humiliated shreds.

“If your plan is to sleep your way to the top of a clan, you’d be much better off trying to get into bed with me,” he called when he was finally in range. He walked up to the bar, standing only a couple feet from you and his father.

The pair of you turned upon hearing the words. Confusion etched across your face. Obviously, you didn’t think he could be talking to you, but with the way Naoya stared into your eyes like they were mini-bullseyes, it was hard to believe he was speaking to anyone else.

“What? What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You can act innocent all you want to, but I know what you’re doing. Playing ‘assistant’ for Satoru, acting like you really care at all about anything my father has to say-” he began his list of accusations.

Naobito rolled his eyes at the display. He didn’t look confused at all. Simply unamused. “Will you give it a rest? For God’s sake, you always gotta bitch about something…” he grumbled before taking another swig of his drink.

“I wasn’t-” you tried to defend yourself simultaneously. But Naoya didn’t give you the time to say more.

“You were. And I can’t fault you. What are you to do? It’s not like you can get an advantage over any of us with actual skill,” he continued. “I’m just pointing out that your aim is off. I’m the one who will rule the Zen’in Clan in the long run. You shouldn’t bother with my drunken father who won’t remember your name come sunrise.”

“Shut yer trap already, Naoya. If she was getting into bed with anyone, she’d pick the guy she works for. The one already in power,” Naobito cut in again, attempting to silence his son.

“I’m not trying to sleep with anyone!” you finally declared. Swiveling around on your stool, you stand up to face Naoya. “I was being polite, which is what you’re supposed to do at things like these. Not sulk around and throw a fit cause people don’t wanna kiss your ass just for existing.”

“Liar. You don’t fool me. Unlike my father, batting your eyes won’t work on me. Showing yourself off in this thing won’t either,” he said, hooking his fingers beneath one of the straps of your dress and giving the thin material a tug.

Fury blazed through your eyes at the contact. You smacked his wrist away hard, the clap of skin on skin slashing through the background noise of happy chatter and pleasant music. Naobito had turned back to his drink again in irritation, but the attention of people nearby began to drift to the both of you.

“Don’t touch me,” you told him without any room for argument.

But he only smirked at you. This was helping him feel better; as if he was siphoning all of his own anger into you instead. He couldn’t work up any true passion from Satoru. Maybe you could be the next best thing.

Ignoring your command, he reached for your face and swept the bow of his index finger down your jawline.

“Women, such emotional creatures,” he tutted.

You slapped his hand away again. “What is your problem? We were just talking, and it had nothing to do with you.”

“It’s my clan, so it’s my business,” he retorted and stepped closer to you, letting the height difference between your frames show. He wasn’t as tall as Satoru, but he was still taller than you and that was enough for him.

To your credit, you didn’t back down. You continued to glare at him without letting his physical advantage intimidate you. “It’s not your clan. You don’t actually control anything.”

“I have more power now than you ever will,” he replied. “You’re Satoru’s little lap dog. You sit behind him and make sure he can do all the things you wish they’d let you try for yourself.”

“Are you really this desperate for attention? Or is it jealousy or something?” you snapped. “Someone actually wants my help. Satoru likes having me around. He chooses to teach me things. No one has ever chosen to be around you in your entire life. Everything you have is because your daddy gave it to you.”

That actually stung a little bit. Naoya suppressed his wince, and instead pursed his lips. A small part of him was exhilarated by the challenge your words brought, but he couldn’t let you win.

“Deflection, deflection, deflection. You know the only way for a woman to get anywhere in this world is to spread her legs. And you clearly lack the training to be a proper wife, so you’re trying the next best thing. I mean, being a slut comes so naturally to you, doesn’t it?”

Unlike him, you didn’t hide the sneer that came to your face. “You don’t even know me! How can you-” you started on the brink of exploding.

“I don’t have to know you to know the truth,” he spoke over you. “I’m just saying that if you plan on whoring yourself out, you should make sure you’re getting on your knees for the right man.”

You raised your hand for some kind of attack - maybe something with your technique, maybe a simple slap. Either way, he put a stop to it by grabbing your wrist with the force he wanted to use earlier. A hiss of pain slid from between your lips, and a surge of heat flooded the pit of his belly.

“You’re actually kind of pretty looking up at me like this. I wouldn’t mind being the one to show you how to behave,” he said in a lower tone.

“That’s enough.”

The cool sound of Satoru’s voice brought everything to a screeching halt. Not only did any other words die in Naoya’s throat, but the entire party seemed quieter, commanded into order by Satoru’s firm statement. His words came out even more monotonous than they’d been upstairs. A rare occasion where he spoke without any teasing or affection in his tone.

The assist from the other sorcerer didn’t pull your eyes out of your hateful stare, but Naoya’s head whipped around to look at him. There Satoru stood, arms folded across his chest like a disappointed parent.

Naoya blinked at him, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to back down. Not with a small crowd onlooking this confrontation. But he didn’t want to cause more of a scene either. He was never one to start fights he knew he would lose.

“Let go of her,” Satoru spoke again at the lack of response. He walked closer to the pair of you, tightening the scope of the drama so less people would feel inclined to watch. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Me?” Naoya sputtered, maintaining his tight grip on you. His full focus landed on Satoru now. “This entire thing is an embarrassment. What are we even celebrating? A deal that I’ll be sure to undo as soon as I’m head of the clan?”

“That’s what you’re pretending to be upset about? You hate that people are… having fun at a party? You’re mad that they’re not already planning for the hypothetical day where you undo it all?” Satoru asked. A hint of mocking returned to his words as another bid to get people less interested.

“It’s not a hypothetical. It’s going to happen whether you or anyone here likes it or not,” he seethed.

“Sure, sure. But my assistant has nothing to do with that, so like I said, take your hands off of her,” he said.

“She was disrespecting me,” Naoya defended. “I said one thing to her, and she talked back.”

“Isn’t that how a conversation’s supposed to work? One person speaks, and then the other talks back…” Satoru said, his mocking no longer hidden. 

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it! She was out of line. Trying to tell me how I should act.”

“Well when you’re insulting her, I would say that’s within her right.”

Naoya narrowed his eyes. While he knew he was exaggerating a bit, he didn’t expect Satoru to accuse him so readily. He thought he hadn’t heard most of the conversation, if any. But you hadn’t piped up to deny his words either, almost as if you knew Satoru would take your side no matter what.

“I wasn’t insulting her. I was correcting her behavior. I was offering her some advice. That’s within my right,” he said coolly. “If you were any good at training her, I wouldn’t have to. She would know not to talk to her betters like that.”

“Her better?” Satoru laughed. He shook his head and took a couple steps closer. “You two are the same rank. You have basically the same position. What gives you the idea that you’re in any way her superior?”

It was a challenge. A dare for him to say what he truly meant, what Satoru had already told him to let go. Naoya ground his teeth together while glaring at that smug smile. Either option felt like losing. One was backing down, the other was walking into a trap. But he supposed there was no honor in giving up, so he kept going in pursuit of an honorable demise.

“I’m the heir to the Zen’in Clan. I’m better than some mouthy little bitch who thinks she knows everything because she sucks the strongest sorcerer’s cock for a living,” he spat.

That seemed to be your breaking point. This time around you didn’t wait for Satoru to handle it. Instead, you stomped on Naoya’s foot with your pointy heel. Hard.

He cried out at the sudden burst of pain and dropped your wrist in an instant. He stumbled back, giving you the opportunity to swing at him with your elbow. Even off balance, he managed to block the attack. It didn’t dissuade you any though. You lunged at him like a feral animal, only stopped by one of Satoru’s arms slipping around your waist.

“Mouthy? I’m mouthy? You’re the one who’s been yapping the whole night!” you snapped.

Satoru didn’t use much force with you. Truthfully, he had no interest in protecting Naoya from violence at your hands. His only interest was in minimizing the scuffle. He didn’t want to get any shit for this later.

He kept his hold around your waist, waiting until you settled enough to nudge you to his side.

“Keep your cool. Don’t do something that’ll get you in trouble with the higher-ups,” he instructed.

Naoya watched on with a scowl on his face. “Finally, you put a leash on her.”

“Only so I can deal with you myself. Figure you’ll go easier this way,” he shrugged.

Before Naoya could even get out a question to clarify what that meant, Satoru reached forward and cupped the back of his neck, leading him away like one would a disobedient puppy. While it was probably easier than if you had tried, he still struggled. His feet floundered against the floor as his arms flailed to try and peel the other man’s hand off. Naoya was strong, but it didn’t matter. Even with a forceful tug, Satoru’s hand stayed firmly clasped around him.

“What are you doing? Let go,” he said, trying to sound as masculine as he could while pleading for mercy.

“So you don’t like it when people grab you to show you your place, huh? Funny,” Satoru said.

Naoya’s cheeks burned a furious shade of crimson. How many times did he have to point out that comparisons between you and himself were moot because of one stark difference?

It seemed as though every set of eyes in the building were on the pair of them as Satoru forced him towards the exit. To make it look even a degree less humiliating, he tried to take a swipe at the other sorcerer like you had to him, but Satoru dodged it with ease, only adding to the frustration.

As they approached the door, he attempted one final time to get the advantage. He stuck his leg out to the side, hoping to trip the other man. If he could bring him to the ground, he could gain the upperhand. Satoru possessed more strength, but Naoya could counteract that with speed.

But all of that was irrelevant because he only slightly stumbled. The move did seem to actually irritate him though. His jaw clenched and he jerked Naoya by the neck before shoving the side exit door open with his shoulder.

The night air cooled Naoya’s flushed skin the second he was dragged out onto the stone. It seemed easier to breathe out here. The music and chatter alike had become muffled behind the walls and shutting doors. But to his dismay, as those sounds became more distant, another followed behind him and Satoru.

A pair of heels clicked against the hard ground in rapid succession. He tried spinning around to get at you. Without a crowd, he didn’t have to hide behind the veneer of civility. He didn’t have to grab and insult. He could go after you like he wanted.

“You really are like a fucking pet, following your master wherever he goes,” he snapped.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t get anywhere close to striking you. And also without the surveillance of onlookers, Satoru didn’t have to be polite. He flung Naoya forward, sending him crashing to the ground and into some stone fencing a few feet away.

“You’ve humiliated yourself enough for one night, don’t you think?” he asked.

Naoya winced against the sturdy structure, rubbing the back of his neck as if to get any remnants of Satoru off. He glared up at the other man who now towered above him like this. The sight sent a weird rush through him. A twisted, nausea-infused version of the heat that boiled inside him when he grabbed you.

“I gave you a warning. I thought I showed you that your night would be easier if you played nice,” Satoru said coolly. “You think anyone in there wants to deal with your shit? Your own fucking father couldn’t be bothered to take a break from the booze to tell you to cool it.”

“Because he knew I was right-”

“Because he knew you were acting like a spoiled brat and that other people could shut you up just as easy,” Satoru corrected. “I mean really. Your sixteen year old cousin has more maturity than you.”

The mention of Maki inflamed him more than anything else. He launched off the fence behind him, seeking to grab the skinny leg in front of him and wrangle the other man onto the pavement. But before he could, Satoru raised his foot and knocked it into Naoya’s shoulder. The contact sent him back into the rock with a thud.

Shaking his head, Satoru crouched so he was at Naoya’s level. “You’re lucky all I did was take you out of there. I could have done so much worse, taught you a real lesson.”

Naoya rolled his eyes and turned his head away. He refused to accept defeat even with no path to victory remaining. But only seconds later, those long, pale fingers grab his jaw, tugging his face back in line.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Satoru said. As if to make that easier, his other fingers rose to the blindfold on his face. A digit hooked beneath the scrap of cloth and tugged it up to rest on his head. The purple fabric pressed against his silky locks of hair, pushing them back out of his face.

A chill went through Naoya’s entire body at the sight of those piercing eyes. The bright blue irises glowed in the moonlight casting down from above. They completed Satoru’s face. They made him look human. But they also made him seem that much more terrifying. With his eyes exposed, his emotions became so much more accessible. That little blindfold’s adjustment exposed the frustration that had been building.

“You were struggling back there. You wanted to fight, yeah?” Satoru continued as the pads of his fingers dug into Naoya’s fleshy cheeks. “I should’ve let you. I should have let you think you had a chance at proving any kind of point, only to put you on the ground in front of everyone. I should’ve let you hear how tough that shit sounded coming from someone pinned underneath me.”

“You wouldn’t have won so easily. You think I’m the arrogant one, but-” he started to defend himself before being cut short.

“But look at you,” he replied, tightening his grasp. It felt as though he was mimicking the strength Naoya used on your wrist. “You think you’d have a shot? Look how easily I got you out here. You’re pitching a fit about this, but I could’ve done worse than that. I should have. I should’ve made you really apologize. To her. In front of everyone.”

“Satoru…” you said, your own voice much softer than before. It almost sounded like a gentle plea. Like you were telling him he didn’t need to ruin the rest of the night with something so dire. Like you didn’t want him to go too far. You stepped a few paces closer, your leg now inches from his side.

But he didn’t ease up any.

The hard stare. The uncompromising tone. The dull pain radiating in his cheeks. All while you watched on in pity. It was all starting to increase that sickening warmth in his stomach.

“I would never apologize to a woman,” he maintained.

Now you rolled your eyes, clearly regretting that you’d tried to intervene at all. You folded your arms across the satin material of your dress and looked at Naoya with distaste.

“Oh, you think so?” Satoru said, a faint smirk pulling at his lips. “You don’t think I could make you?”

And for a second, it felt like everything stopped. All the nearby crickets went silent. The breeze didn’t blow. Naoya’s heart stopped beating. He knew it was meant as a threat. A warning of violence if he didn’t comply. But with Satoru’s mouth so close, with his breath fanning onto his face, with his eyes looking into his very soul, it came across as a much more convincing method of persuasion.

As much as he tried to fight it, heat pooled in his belly and clustered in his lap. He could feel the appendage between his legs stiffening up a little.

Satoru caught the slightly widening eyes and hitched breath. His own brows furrowed in confusion for a moment.

“What? What’s that look for?” he asked. “You know I could.”

Naoya didn’t answer. Instead, he tried to think of the words that would make up one. In the bout of silence, your hand drifted forward and tugged Satoru’s blindfold the rest of the way off. You twisted the piece of material, wrapping it around your own wrist before running your fingers through his now loose strands of ghostly hair.

It made it worse in a way. Your touch looked so soft, so caring. Adoring and reverent. Almost loving but definitely familiar. It was a touch he craved.

“Nothing…” he said, swallowing to mask the dryness of his throat. “I’m just tired of your lecturing.”

“Really? You’ve been so desperate for attention the whole night, but now that you have it, it’s not good enough?” Satoru mocked. His voice came out a little lower than before, slightly breathier. It also didn’t help at all.

Suddenly you laughed. Both of the men’s heads snapped in your direction.

“He likes the attention,” you giggled, biting your lip as you grinned down at Satoru.

Both men remained bewildered for a few moments more, but Naoya caught onto your meaning first. He’d hoped it wasn’t visible or noticeable; though, that was proven unrealistic. You nodded towards his lap, guiding Satoru’s vision to the semi-hard bulge straining against his pants.

His brows raised for a second, and then a chuckle came from his lips. Naoya’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. From the way it felt, he’d bet the red tint glowed like a night light out here.

“You really like the idea of me forcing you, huh?” Satoru teased.

“Shut up,” Naoya said, though it came out closer to a plea.

“This is why you’re so miserable, you know. Maybe if you dropped the attitude, you could get a pretty girl to help you relax,” he mocked. You continued to snicker along to his words in the background, only making them sting all the more.

“I don’t need a girl. Women bring nothing but weakness,” he said. But his words came out less confident than earlier.

“I don’t think you could be any weaker than you are right now,” you simpered. “You’d probably cum in your pants from just this.”

You reached forward with your other hand to touch his hair as you’d done to Satoru. Your soft fingertips just barely grazed his scalp before he wrenched away like they were coated in acid. It only made you laugh more.

He glared at you, but his attention soon snapped back to the man in front of him. Satoru loosened his grip on Naoya’s jaw before skimming his thumb over his bottom lip. It felt soothing. A small method of quelling his anger.

“If you needed help with women, you could’ve just called me up. I would’ve helped you,” he taunted.

“Yeah, right,” Naoya scoffed on instinct before correcting himself. “I don’t need any help with that.”

“Mmmm, you definitely do. The stuff you say, all that anger you have towards them for just existing… those aren’t real panty-droppers,” he continued. “But you’re good looking. You’re sharp. You’re rich. It wouldn’t be so hard for you if you put in some real effort, Naoya.”

Satoru finally let go of his face, but not without patting his cheek. He then stood up again next to you. His arm swooped behind you, wrapping around the curve in your waist and pulling you to stand in front of him.

“It’s really not that hard. All it takes is some soft touches, sweet eyes, some sappy words,” he crooned while lowering his lips to your neck. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

His hands swept up and down your sides and settled on your hips while his mouth parted to lay some warm kisses on your skin. The only answer that came out of you was a delicate little moan. You took your bottom lip between your teeth again as your eyes fluttered.

Confusion slapped itself across Naoya’s face before angry realization dawned on him. He peeled himself off the ground, dusting some dirt off his clothes.

“So she is sleeping with you,” he hissed.

“Well… we don’t do much sleeping when we’re alone,” Satoru joked, his blue eyes flitting up from your neck. “It’s a good way to blow off steam after missions. Like I’m saying, you should give it a try.”

“I was right!” he seethed. “That’s the only reason you’re putting on this whole show. You gotta show your little whore that she’s more than that. She won’t keep spreading her legs if she knows you don’t respect her.”

Smooth as could be, Satoru slid around so that you were tucked to his side rather than pressed against his front.

“You know, it’s really hard to take you seriously when you still have a boner poking through your pants,” Satoru mocked.

That was all the humiliation Naoya could stomach. 

“I’m leaving,” he muttered, stomping past the pair of you with his eyes cast down and his face hot as a glowing ember.

But before he could get far, Satoru’s hand grabbed his wrist. He pulled him back in front of you two.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he dismissed. Even with his firm grip, his voice wasn’t menacing.

His fingertips trailed up Naoya’s arm, making the flesh break out into tiny bumps. They dragged up to his shoulder, coasted across his collarbone, before wrapping around his throat. With a little tug, he inched him closer.

“You think I’m putting on a show, right? Well I should at least get you to apologize then,” Satoru hummed.

He stared into Naoya’s golden eyes. His thumb smoothed back and forth across his neck, ghosting over the strong thump of his pulse.

“I’m not apologizing,” Naoya maintained.

“You really want me to force you?” he grinned.

“Satoru, I’m not-” he started, attempting to brush off the hand around his neck.

But Satoru kept his hold tight and pulled their faces even closer together. Naoya’s eyes widened as he felt an eruption of butterflies in his belly.

“Not even if I offer a little reward for it?” he purred.

Naoya nearly choked at the implication. His pupils scanned over Satoru’s face, trying to detect any signs of a joke or a trap. But he couldn’t find any. He then looked to you, to see if you would recoil at the suggestion. Only, there you stood, gazing up at Satoru like he was a statue to worship. Your fingers ran up and down the hem of his suit jacket.

“Don’t look at her. She’s not gonna help you,” Satoru teased. “She already doesn’t like you, and she can be just as bad as me. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, resting your cheek against his chest as you watched. Your voice oozed out smoother than before, almost a little dreamy. You were getting turned on too.

Satoru’s smile only spread further. “She’s like a cat sometimes, loves playing with mice.”

“I’m not a mouse,” Naoya denied.

“No? Then be a man and admit you were wrong. That’s the price of entry. Otherwise, you can try your luck in there again. See if anyone else will throw you out,” he said, letting go of the other man’s face.

His lips pursed. The very idea went against his entire being. “I wasn’t wrong.”

“No? Then at least say you’re sorry for being a dick and causing a scene,” Satoru said.

A few seconds passed. He folded his arms over his chest as his face settled into more of a pout. He really, really did not want to claim to be wrong. But he also didn’t want to be left at this stuffy party while you and Satoru went off together to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what.

“I didn’t mean for you to get so… angry at what I said…” he tried.

“That’s not an apology,” you frowned.

He rolled his eyes, about to grumble some words about how ungrateful you were, but Satoru stepped in.

“Be patient, baby. It’s a start, yeah? You can pull some more out of him in a little while,” Satoru teased, ducking down to peck your cheek.

You squirmed at the sudden smack of affection, but it did ease you up. “Whatever,” you huffed as you nestled back into his side.

“Don’t expect any more. I’m not gonna say it again,” Naoya corrected.

“Sure you won’t,” Satoru said.

“I won’t.”

“Mhm, mhm. I believe you,” he nodded, his canines sparkling under the moonlight. “But you are gonna come with us, right?”

“I guess…” he said, looking away. He tried his best to act casual, like he could take this or leave it. Like he wasn’t gonna have to jerk off behind some bushes if he ended up being left behind.

But neither of you did anything so cruel. Instead Satoru gave the collar of his shirt a little tug. “Good boy. Just follow along, and we’ll get you that reward I was talking about,” he praised.

With that, the two of you turned around and started walking away from the main building. Swallowing hard, Naoya followed as instructed and trudged along a few paces behind you.

By the time the three of you had made it back to Satoru’s quarter’s, Naoya felt his heart beating like it wanted to leap from his throat. What had been awkward reservation had morphed into full on anxiety.

Especially now that he sat at the end of the king sized bed, watching you and Satoru make out.

The two of you stood a few feet away. Your hands cupped his cheeks while he worked on sliding the straps of your dress down. He could hear the puffs of your breath, the ragged sighs as your body grew hotter and the pressure between your hips began to make you squirm.

Your mouth glided down onto Satoru’s throat, coaxing a groan from his lips. His head fell back and rolled to the side so that his lidded eyes landed on Naoya’s bored form. A lazy smile spread across his face.

“What’re you pouting for? You had no problem inserting yourself before,” he said.

In contrast to his previous attitude, Naoya didn’t snap or snarl. He didn’t even roll his eyes or huff. Now that you and Satoru had let loose, things were different. There was no mask to hide feelings behind. In this room, everything was laid bare. He didn’t know how to reconcile with that.

“I…” he tried to think of something sharp to say, but nothing was coming out.

“Get over here,” Satoru said with a wave of his hand, saving him from his own failing vocabulary.

As if possessed, Naoya found himself rising off the luxurious mattress. He stepped towards the pair of you. His legs felt as though they might dissolve and leave him crumpled up on the floor in a pathetic heap. A small puddle that would remain dormant while you and Satoru simply stepped over him and got on with things as usual.

But nothing so dramatic happened. He made it to your sides and stood there for a moment. Satoru chuckled lowly before grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

“See? You do need my help,” he teased.

Before Naoya could even think of replying, the hand latched onto his top tugged hard, yanking him closer. His eyes widened as his lips crashed into Satoru. It was weird, almost unsettling at first. He was too cognizant of how wet his lips were, probably with your saliva. They were too squishy too. Too soft on his own.

After a few seconds though, the initial shock wore off. Satoru’s mouth moved, parting against his own. He sucked on Naoya’s lips. His tongue swiped over the skin in a small teasing stroke. Just like that, Naoya was melting into the sensation. He was stepping closer and leaning in, looking for more.

In no time, his nose was bumping Satoru’s and soft moans were trickling from his lips. His hand came up to hook over Satoru’s bicep. It was a way to get more contact, but it was also a method of balance to ensure he wasn’t going to faint.

It was as if all the repressed need that had shrouded him for so long was blossoming into a beautiful meadow of desire. The ache for attention, the desperation for care; it didn’t feel so ugly anymore. It felt vibrant and sweet. Like if the warmth he felt earlier on the balcony was given a doubled dosage of steroids.

Satoru reciprocated the enthusiasm while still managing to hold you close and encourage your efforts on his neck. After a few kisses more, he pulled back. His lips gleamed now. A soft dusky pink coated his cheeks while the black of his pupils blew so wide it nearly masked the blue of his irises.

His fingers came up, wiping a fleck of drool off Naoya’s chin.

“You know, I always liked you. Back then… you had so much potential. I thought you’d leave the rest of that clan in the dust. Shame you turned out to be such a brat,” he panted.

A surge of something close to panic washed over Naoya. Right now, he wanted- no, he needed Satoru to like him.

“But you said I hadn’t changed,” he said.

Satoru smirked at the clear yearning written all over his face. “You haven’t. But being a brat isn’t as cute as it was all those years ago.”

“It’s annoying now,” you mumbled as you pulled off Satoru’s neck and looked up at the both of them.

Naoya’s expression instantly soured. His hand came up to shove your head, but Satoru grabbed his wrist, flexing his fingers around the limb as a reminder of his strength.

“Be nice,” he said. “You’re running out of warnings.”

Naoya sputtered almost petulantly. “She’s the one who said it. You didn’t say anything to her-”

“Quiet,” Satoru commanded softly. “You’re gonna try to behave yourself right now, or you won’t get anything, alright?”

“Alright,” Naoya agreed quietly. He looked down. Accepting defeat was easier if he didn’t have to look at you as he did it.

“Atta boy,” Satoru praised. “Now I want you to kiss her.”

Naoya’s head rose back up, eyes wary. With a quiet chuckle and gentle nudge, Satoru guided him to stand behind you. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes met with his golden ones. For the first time, he didn’t feel automatic disdain. He took a second to look at you. Really look at you. His eyes ran over the curve of your nose and the fullness of your cheeks down to your silken lips.

“Are you gonna stare all-” you started to ask, but he cut you off. Not with an insult this time. Instead he used his own lips.

The kisses weren’t rough or mean. He actually put in a little effort. His hands settled on your waist while your free one came up to tangle in his bleached locks.

Satoru looked on. The approval in his eyes was palpable. “Look at you two…” he cooed playfully. “Getting along so well for me.”

He ducked back in to attach his lips to your neck. Naoya could feel your body relax backwards against him. As you moaned into his mouth, he groaned at your fingers twisting and playing with the dark ends of his hair.

His lips fell from your own and pecked over your jaw to the opposite side of your neck. With each man laving over one side of your throat, the three of you stumbled over towards Satoru’s king sized bed. On the way there, you kicked your heels off, leaving them discarded on the plush gray rug covering the floor.

Both of them sat down first. You stood before them, chest puffing with heavy breaths and eyes lidded with your desire. Naoya still held your waist while Satoru finished removing your dress.

The thin lavender straps descended your arms before the entire garment pooled around your ankles. Naoya sucked in a quiet breath as his eyes drank in every detail of your figure. He tried to look ambivalent, as if he’d possibly seen better. But the one girl he had fumbled through sex with a few years ago didn’t make him feel anything like this. His cock swelled to full hardness in his trousers as his hands gripped your hips with a little extra firmness.

Satoru didn’t have such a reaction, obviously having seen your body more than a few times. He was more focused on the now-exposed lacy lingerie. His fingertips dragged over the frilled material lining your breasts. Your nipple pebbled beneath the fabric in response, practically calling out for his digit to venture further.

“You know these are my favorite,” he murmured, skimming his hands along the border of the bralette.

You nodded, shifting on the balls of your feet slightly. “Wanted to give you a little surprise.”

He chuckled at the coy nature with which you spoke and then leaned in to plant a kiss on your sternum.

“Lucky for you, I think Naoya likes it too. Don’t you?” he asked and glanced over at the other man.

Words of praise tangled into knots in his throat. Only a weird sound of agreement made it out before he managed a nod of his own and then a quiet “Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Nice?” Satoru repeated, scooting closer. “Is this what nice does to you?”

His palm slid into Naoya’s lap, cupping his bulge with a firm squeeze. An embarrassing whine burst from his lips, his pelvis bucking up into the sensation on instinct.

Satoru laughed softly as he leaned in. He pecked Naoya’s soft lips, planting a few gentle kisses on his pout. His mouth moved to the corner of those lips, then onto his sharp jawline.

“You know, maybe your problem isn’t getting girls… maybe the trouble starts once you already got ‘em hooked,” Satoru teased. “Is that why you’re so angry all the time? Did you cum too early with the first one? Blow your load before she could even get you outta your pants?”

A shaky breath left Naoya. That burning inside was making it hard to register or respond to anything. He pulled back, giving his best shot at a glare.

“No. I didn’t. My first time was fine. We-”

Satoru, not interested in the actual story, ground the heel of his palm down onto the rigid length. A symphony of needy whimpers from Naoya cut his own words short. His head fell onto Satoru’s shoulder while he thumbed at the tip of the shaft through the material of his pants.

“You sure about that? Maybe she made fun of you for all these cute noises then, huh?” he murmured.

Before Naoya could offer up another legitimate answer, he kissed him again. He swallowed up all logic and reason, replacing it with the pure passion blazing between them.

Meanwhile, you unhooked your bra and let it fall to the ground with your party dress. Your panties went next, kicked to the side as well. Both men could see in their peripheral vision that you were now fully nude.

Naoya reached out for your wrist, his greed becoming more pronounced amidst the fog of his lust. He tugged you forward and then gave another yank in the direction of the floor, clearly expecting you would drop to your knees. But Satoru put a stop to it by grabbing your other forearm.

Retreating from the other man’s mouth, he grinned. “You’re crazy if you think she’s getting on her knees for you,” he breathed.

“Wha-what?” he stuttered.

“You’re still making it up to her. You wouldn’t even say sorry, but you expect her to suck your dick? Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Satoru tutted.

He guided you to sit at his other side while placing a hand on Naoya’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna be the one on your knees for now,” he said with a solid pull.

Naoya toppled from the edge of the mattress onto the wooden planks at Satoru’s feet. They were hard against his knees, but the sight of Satoru above him softened the blow. You were already lifting his shirt, peeling it from his toned form. Once the garment was discarded, Naoya truly felt like the heavens had opened. Like he’d seen God himself gazing down at him.

Of course, Satoru’s physique was as expected - muscular, fit, sculpted. But knowing something and bearing witness to it are two separate things. Seeing Satoru’s smooth skin and ripped torso stole the breath from Naoya’s lungs. He had to remember to keep his mouth closed so he wouldn’t drool.

And to make matters worse, your nimble fingers went to his fly next. You tugged the zipper on his pants open, and he boosted his hips, giving the clearance for you to shove the fabric down his legs. His v-line came into view first. That sparse happy trail starting at his navel thickened up the farther South it went, leading to a swath of snowy white hair at the base of his thick cock.

Satoru’s long fingers came to wrap around the veiny shaft. The digits curled around his length and gave it a few good strokes, beckoning it to fill out completely. He relished the way Naoya’s pupils bounced in sync with each motion.

“I’ve been putting up with your shit all night too. Think you should suck my dick as a real apology while I get her warmed up for yours,” he said.

“You want me to-”

“Suck it,” Satoru finished with a smirk. “C’mon. You got a big mouth. I’m sure you can take it.”

He gawked at it for a few more seconds but then tentatively scooted in. There was really no point in resisting now. His lust overpowered his pride, and he wrapped his fingers around Satoru’s cock, feeling the pulsating warmth in his grasp. He stroked it a couple times, almost in an exploratory way, like he couldn’t believe it was real.

Without having to be told, he took the tip into his mouth. His tongue gently flicked at the silken head. Satoru sighed up above. His posture relaxed, and you leaned in closer. Your hand smoothed over Naoya’s hair as he took more into his mouth. This time he didn’t pull away. He let you pet him while he tasted the essence of Satoru’s skin.

His hand stayed wrapped around what wouldn’t fit in his mouth so far. He bobbed back and forth, letting his saliva coat the length.

“Fuck…” Satoru breathed, his white lashes fluttering. “You look so much better like this, with your mouth full instead of doing all that bitching and moaning.”

The words didn’t get to him this time, not while his brain was fully focused on the task of pleasuring the strongest sorcerer. He shut his eyes and kept sucking on him. His lips caressed over the ridge, across the veins towards the base. He wanted to take more, to go all the way, but the urge to gag was already tickling the back of his throat.

Maybe you could see that ambition on his face. Or maybe you still held a grudge from earlier. Either way, your hand slid to the back of his head and pushed. You didn’t shove, but you were firm with your move to get him to take more of Satoru’s cock down his throat.

Some words came garbled out around the length, totally incoherent to you or Satoru. But it didn’t matter because they were then replaced by a whine. You smiled at the little noises, tugging on his hair. His head slid nearly all the way till his nose nestled against those coarse white hairs. A gag rolled through his body. Strings of saliva seeped from his mouth.

You giggled at the sight, dragging him back and then sliding him down till he was bracing himself on Satoru’s thighs.

“Be nice,” he chastised affectionately, guiding your hand off Naoya’s hair.

The two of you kissed while the man between his legs came up for air again. He receded onto his haunches and sucked in a few breaths. His head had nearly begun to spin from the reduced amount of oxygen.

“He was the one being mean to me earlier,” you said softly against Satoru’s lips.

“Hmmm… I guess he was… Are you saying you deserve a little reward for putting up with that?” he asked.

“Maybe…” you said, brushing a lock of white hair out of his face.

He broke out into a smile at the affectionate touch. “I think I can manage that,” he said. 

His hand reached out for Naoya’s hair and tugged his face against his cock again. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he teased.

He laid back on the bed, patting your hip for you to climb up. You swung your leg over his abdomen to straddle his chest. But he didn’t wait for you to readjust yourself. Grabbing the backs of your thighs, he dragged you up so that your cunt hovered above his face.

“You know what to do, princess,” he said.

And you did. While Satoru taught you tons of tricks about Jujutsu, he’d also trained you in a few other arenas as well. You lowered yourself and let your head fall back in bliss as his tongue swiped over your pussy.

Naoya’s eyes widened as he suckled on the head of Satoru’s cock. He’d never seen anything like this spare some cheesy pornos, but those always looked fake. This was real. The way you rocked your hips on his mouth, the sounds of sucking and slurping from between your legs, the sight of your flesh dimpling under Satoru’s strong fingers - all of that was very much real.

He sucked at a much more leisurely pace now that the both of you weren’t watching his every move. It gave him the added awareness he needed to observe the action in front of him.

You yelped as Satoru sucked on your clit nice and hard. Your hips jerked, and your hands flew to his hair to grip the soft tresses. He groaned against your cunt at the sensation, his own hips bucking into Naoya’s mouth a bit.

With all of you connected like this, it was easy to get lost in the hazy atmosphere of euphoria. Nothing had to exist right now besides the three people in this room. There was nothing to worry about, nothing to do except make each other feel good.

In no time at all, you’re ready to cum. Satoru had seemingly inhuman stamina and discipline that meant he was faring ok, but you, on the other hand, were getting ready to burst. Both men could tell from how pitchy your moans were getting and how erratic your movements became.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. ‘Toru, ‘Toruuuu,” you whined. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum.”

“Mhm, that’s right, pretty girl. Let it all out for me. Be a good girl and cum,” he coaxed lazily between laps at your entrance. His tongue worked its way inside, fucking into you as you started to reach the high.

You squeaked and basically doubled over, your body spasming with the ecstasy his tongue brought you.

Naoya let his mouth slip off of Satoru’s length so he could just watch. He sat there in awe as your body shuddered atop the head below. It was like a flame dancing in a strong gust of wind. He couldn’t remember ever seeing something so raw. When he’d been with that girl a couple years ago, nothing like that happened. She moaned off and on until he came and then they laid there in silence.

She certainly didn’t squeal when overstimulation started to set in like you did. She didn’t leap off to the safety of the headboard with a big goofy smile on her face either. He didn’t follow, crawling over her and peppering her face with kisses like he saw Satoru do just now.

He could feel himself leaking inside his pants as he watched the two of you. He wanted that. If only to prove to himself that he was capable of it, he wanted to experience something like that.

Rising from the ground, he made quick work of his shirt and tossed it to the side with your discarded clothes. He then pulled his pants off, letting his cock spring free.

“Eager for your turn, huh?” Satoru asked, a knowing look on his face.

“I’m just tired of kneeling,” he said with a shrug.

Neither of you believed that, but you didn’t press. Instead, Satoru patted the open space next to him on the mattress.

“Come lie down,” he instructed. 

His brows furrowed, yet he didn’t risk the path of resistance. Instead, he followed Satoru’s instructions and rolled over onto his back.

“Why does she get to be on top?” he grumbled.

Satoru laughed. “You’re about to get laid, and you’re still complaining?”

At the same time, you made your way to Naoya and straddled him just as you’d done to the other man before. Only this time, your pussy sat a few inches up from his flushed, leaky cock.

“I get to be on top cause I wanna be. You’ll do this my way or not at all,” you told him simply.

Normally, he would have objected to your attitude or tried to flip you over anyways, but right now he was laser focused on the tiny gap between you two. His chest shuddered with every rise and fall. All of his muscles tingled in anticipation. He swore he felt actual electricity when you planted your hands on the firm muscles in his chest.

He expected you to get to work. A quick slide inside and then some bouncing. But you didn’t do that. You brought your hips down and dragged your soaked folds over his length at an agonizingly slow pace.

A strangled groan fell from his lips as his head tilted back against the pillows. You worked your cunt back and forth on him, coating his cock with your slick. His eyes drooped while your velvety flesh brushed against him over and over and over.

He had to bite his lip to stay composed. The last thing he wanted to do was finish before you’d really started. He grabbed your hips hard, but despite his hold, you maintained control of the pace. Every time you’d boost yourself up, he thought you’d finally let him in. But every single time, you slid right back down and left him out in the cold.

“Fuck, stop teasing,” he pleaded.

“I’m not. I’m warming up,” you defended. But the expression on your face clued him in to the fact that your innocence was feigned.

“It’s not nice to rush a lady, Naoya,” Satoru added from where he laid propped on his elbow next to the both of you.

Naoya shot him a look, but it lost all malice when he saw how Satoru lazily jerked his cock to the show in front of him. Heat flared inside him. He had to shut his eyes to keep a handle on himself.

And it was then that you lifted yourself up and sunk down on him.

He moaned, his back arching off the bed. You giggled as your ass made contact with his thighs. Time stood still as you did. Both of you just got used to the feeling of him inside your pussy. You swiveled your hips slightly, bringing some whimpers out of him.

Leaning forward, you stroked his cheek. “You don’t seem to have a problem with me being above you anymore,” you cooed.

His eyes opened again before rolling back. You looked like a fucking angel above him. The dim light of Satoru’s room cast shadows over your body that contoured you like a work of art. Your eyes, nowhere near as bright as Satoru’s, struck him all the same. Even your voice sounded like that of a siren’s.

Naoya remembered the last and only time he had sex as mediocre. It felt good. Definitely not bad. Something he would do to pass the time for sure. But he never understood the pull it seemed to have over other men. The way they would let themselves be ruled by it.

Now he did. With every twitch of your tight, warm walls around his shaft, he became increasingly convinced that he would let you ruin his life to feel like this for only a few minutes more.

“Please-” he begged, his voice cracking, “Please move. Fuck, I can’t take it…”

“Awww, you said please all on your own. I think he’s learning, Satoru,” you crooned. But you did indulge him by beginning to ride, and that was all he could ask for.

“I knew he’d come around. You make a pretty convincing case,” Satoru agreed, still languidly stroking himself.

While you started off slow, you began picking up speed pretty fast. You moved like you were on a mission. With every bounce, you had a goal in mind.

It felt good to you, sure. You’d moan or let out a little mewl every so often. But for Naoya, if his noises were anything to go off of, he was in some version of paradise. His face looked almost dazed. He couldn’t get one syllable out without his voice breaking, and everything he did manage to say was some incoherent whine or an expletive. His fingers stayed locked onto your waist, holding on for dear life as you rode him with everything you had.

“I think you like being beneath me,” you purred, placing one of your hands on his throat. “You talk a big game, but that’s only cause you’re so desperate for someone to prove you wrong, huh?”

He nodded without even thinking about it. At the moment, he’d agree to damn near anything you said if it meant you would just keep going.

You had him.

Shifting around, you repositioned so that your feet were planted on the mattress next to each of his hips. You kept rising and falling, taking his cock to the hilt. But at this angle, you could get him so much deeper. You felt it right away, but so did he. His hips bucked up as he whimpered again.

His hands actually started to offer some help now. They kept you stable and balanced while making sure you maintained a steady pace. You continued to thrust yourself on him while accepting the assist.

“Fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck me, fuck me, keep fucking me,” he babbled.

“Yeah? Are you getting close, baby?” you asked.

From the side, Satoru couldn’t take just watching anymore. He swooped in to kiss at Naoya’s neck. “Look at you. So fucking pussydrunk. Are you gonna cum, pretty boy?” he asked lowly.

The added attention shot him so much closer to release. He nodded, teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard he thought he might draw blood.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum,” he whimpered like a broken record.

His cock kicked inside you. His balls drew up. His muscles tensed. Every part of him was ready for that sweet relief.

But then you pulled off.

You rose up just a little too high and popped his dick right out of you. 

He cried out like he was in pain, his hips bucking and thrusting into the air fruitlessly. His eyes snapped open. The golden irises swirled like vicious tornadoes of anger and humiliation and raw need.

“You little fucking-”

“What’s that?” you asked, cocking your head to the side playfully.

He stopped himself short, his features contorting into a look of frustration before melting down to desperation instead. “Why?” he whimpered.

“Cause I want you to say sorry,” you said.

His eyes widened as if you were insane. Inside, his pride clawed at him, telling him to push you right off of him and storm out. But on his stomach, his cock wept for release. It glowed red and shimmered with a combination of your juices.

In the end, the tangible option won out.

“I’m sorry, ok? There,” he said.

“For what?” you prodded.

“For everything,” he answered, practically pouting.

“Not good enough. Say it like you mean it, say exactly what you’re sorry for,” you ordered.

“Fuck, ok. I’m sorry for calling you a whore. And a slut. And a bitch. And anything else. I’m sorry for saying you sucked Satoru’s dick. I’m sorry for grabbing you. I’m sorry for saying you should get me a drink or whatever. I’m just sorry, ok? Please, I’m so sorry. I… I was wrong,” he whimpered.

Reaching down, you grabbed his length and guided it back to your entrance. You slowly sank down as you had before.

“Keep going,” you said.

Instant relief flooded him as your cunt embraced him yet again. Release would have to build up again, but at least it wasn’t unattainable. And he’d do anything to keep it that way.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered as you bounced up and down on him.

You went hard and fast now. Relentless in your pursuit of pleasure. Satoru kept kissing his neck, bringing more noises out amongst the slew of apologies.

Your legs started to wobble as you hit the high yourself, but somehow you managed to keep yourself upright. You threw your head back and screwed your eyes shut, letting that intense pleasure wash over you for the second time.

Naoya was much in the same boat. His heels dug into the mattress as release finally overtook him. No longer did his hands just serve to balance you. They actively pulled you down, gave him the leverage he needed to slam up into your cunt.

You both rode out the waves together until melting down into a boneless heap. You slid off of him and rolled to the side, resting your head on his bicep. He laid there, completely still for a moment. His chest heaved as he caught his breath.

“You two did so good. I’m so proud,” Satoru crooned mockingly from the same spot. 

Each of your heads lazily turned in that direction to find the strongest sorcerer smiling at the two of you with his cock, still fully-hard, in his hand.

“But don’t you think you’re forgetting about something?” he asked teasingly.

The two of you were absolutely spent by this point, but in both of you, the adoration for Satoru ran deeper than physical exhaustion. You dragged your body to lie between his thighs first, and then Naoya came behind you.

Your fingers curled around the shaft before you planted a lazy kiss on the head. You began tracing the veins with your tongue from base to tip.

Naoya watched you for a moment before bringing his lips to the top. He suckled on the head for a moment, letting the precum smear on his lips. His golden eyes gazed up at Satoru. He watched as he softly moaned.

Both of Satoru’s hands came to pet your heads. “See what happens when you behave, Naoya?” he teased. “You two make such a good team.”

Naoya rolled his eyes, but he didn’t disagree. He kept at work on the shiny tip of Satoru’s length. After a few more laps of your tongue, you drifted up there too. Your lips brushed his own. The soft skin grazed by as each of you lavished attention upon the cock between you.

It felt good.

So Naoya went for it again. He kissed you with Satoru at the site of your connection. And then he did it again and again.

The sight of you two making out around a piece of him was what drove him to the edge. He couldn’t hold on after seeing that. His fingers clutched the bedding beneath him while his head lolled back between his shoulders.

Pearly ropes of cum fired from Satoru. Some spurted onto your hand, more landed on Naoya’s cheek. Satoru let out a groan as he drained himself. He wasn’t as reactive as the two of you, but the look on his face made his enjoyment undisputed.

When he seemingly finished, you reached over to the bedside table to grab some kleenex. You wiped the mess from your hand and Satoru’s belly, and then with a fresh one, tended to Naoya’s face. For a second, you would have sworn his eyes looked a little softer, less harsh than they usually were.

After the three of you were taken care of, you curled up to Satoru’s side. Naoya observed the closeness between the two of you. The unspoken intimacy that he had no part in.

He made his way towards the end of the bed, planning on putting himself back together and then hightailing it out of here. But before he could, Satoru’s fingers wrapped around his wrist again.

“Where are you going? Now that you’re not acting like a total jackass, you wanna leave?” he asked.

Naoya paused. He still hadn’t returned to his normal self. He didn’t have a snappy reply or an insult to hurl at the two of you.

“Oh… I thought… I thought you would want me to leave,” he said.

“Please, what do you take me for? I’m not the hit it and quit it type,” Satoru teased.

It was a stupid joke, but it made things less tense between everyone. Hesitantly, Naoya eased back up towards the top of the bed, taking up the side of Satoru you didn’t occupy.

You watched him as he did. He half-expected you to protest him staying. He’d probably do that if he was in your place. Wouldn’t the ultimate satisfaction come from demeaning the person who’d tried to do exactly that to you?

But you didn’t. You didn’t utter a mean word as he let his body rest against Satoru’s. Instead, you reached over and tucked a piece of two-toned hair behind his ear.

And he let you.

[uzurimisery]

bite the hand that feeds. / naoya zenin / nsfw

Warnings: MDNI, Naoya Zenin is a warning, misogyny, secondary sex discrimination, physical violence, rough sex, degradation, a/b/o, biting, blood, BDSM, dub to noncon, use of slick, forced consumption of bodily fluids, talk of impregnation and baby trapping, lactation kink, sadism and masochism, spanking, threats of domestic violence, objectification, maybe body horror, dear god please practice RACK irl

w.c: 7.5k (shes juicy)

A/N: baby's first omegaverse! my (very) late entry into the wonderful @goxjo's Into the Omegaverse Collab

The rhythmic patter of zori against the courtyard bridge banged in your mind, each strike sharp and precise like a taiko drum—warning of impending doom that faces your lady. Married off into the Zenin clan under a clear blue sky, the breeze ruffling her dangling kanzashi. Everything about her looked perfect today, you had ensured it. Despite being your cousin, there was a world of difference between you as she strode forward, back straight, umbrella held by another attendant. Her every move was slow and steady, pronounced grace and elegance in every movement.

 It was easier to be from a branch family like you were—less pressure, less conformity, at least to a certain degree. While you had been at least allowed to attend jujutsu training until you presented, she had been given the basics of controlling her technique. Never stepping a foot outside of the family compound. 

It felt like the tsubo-niwa felt like it went on forever. The stretch between the bridge’s end and the open shoji doors where the meeting would take place going on like the desert. The air between heavy, hot and humid, weight down the fabric of your kimono.

It was easier being from a branch family. You could bow and prostrate, low and deep as your aunt had whipped into you, the cedar marks still faint against the back of your thighs. The scars almost faded, silvery lines, chain linked together through opposition, personal rebellion where you could. You could then sit, your posture picture perfect, eyes kept low to the ground, breathe calmly, and let the men speak. You could retreat into yourself, the memories of how the sun felt against your bare arms during training, the tan you’d get from the hours of running drills. The peace using your cursed technique brought. 

The peace and solitude of those moments had felt so pure. So freeing. But clan expectations changed everything. If only you had presented as a beta. 

The cicadas buzzed a drone against the conversation. The clan head was appraising your cousin, speaking directly to your uncle. Wanting to know every important detail about her. How consistent her heats were, what her last blood work showed, and how likely was her technique to be passed down over the Zenin family. It had always been like this here, omegas being cattle. Traded, bartered, bred. You’d be luckier than her, likely married to someone of less importance. Your value was lower than hers with a mistake from your youth. Perhaps he’d be kind, come to care for you over time. 

Maybe he’d let you train again, show you favor if you gave him an heir. You had made peace with the fact freedom, true freedom, would never come until you died or the death and destruction of your entire clan. 

Maybe one day everything would go up in flames, and a great fire would roar over the compound, scorching the earth. Erasing the clan from history. Maybe a curse so powerful would come and consume everything in its wake. Maybe you should just run away, flee from Japan altogether. There were sorcerers abroad, maybe you could join their ranks. Be free from how they operate here. Or maybe you would run away and rebuke sorcery.

Clove, rich and warm, scented the air as another man walked into the meeting room. His voice was low, steps heavy. 

Master Zenin introduced him as Naoya. His scent was distinctive, with notes of sandalwood underneath. It was spiced and smelt like comforting winter nights as the snow fell on pine trees. Holidays with your parents when your father was still alive. Both soothing and invigorating. It seemed to draw you in. Never before had a scent captivated you so strongly.

The dread you had felt crossing the bridge grew stronger, the animal instincts inside you screaming at you to run, and to run far. Run before he could catch you. 

Peeking over your lash line, you caught his eyes, dark brown and full of hatred, directed straight at you. Scrutiny crawling over your skin, climbing up through the arms of your kimono and wrapping around your heart, squeezing it tightly. He looked at you as meat, stock to breed. Your eyes quickly returned to staring at the floor.

You had heard tales of him before, of all the Zenins, but experiencing it was a different story.

“Naoya, this is Hiroko Kimura.” Naobito spoke plainly as if your cousin was another thing to buy at the store. As if he was deciding between brands of butter. 

From the corner of your vision, you watched as your cousin prostrated before him, kanzahi jingling as it hit the ground. Her father bows in suit, not nearly as low, saved by being an elder even if he was from a lesser family. Hiroko gave her greetings softly, speaking of how grateful she was to meet him. She was pumping out pheromones as she went, her scent permeating the air. The clash of clove and honey made you feel sick, the smell sticky as it crept around, spread by the breeze. 

He acknowledged her briefly, with no real interest or care as he returned her greeting.“What’s the one behind her.”

You knew he spoke of you sat five feet behind your cousin, now desperately trying to refrain from shrinking into the floods of your blue ougi-patterned kimono. To keep your pheromones from leaking out, to not scent the air with fear. 

“That is my daughter’s handmaiden, my brother’s daughter.” Your uncle introduced you to Naoya, shifting all the attention in the room to you. “She’s to continue her duties until a suitable mate is arranged for her.” 

Naobito hummed as he now turned to look over you. The weight of everyone's gaze was heavy on you. If it had been a different time and place, you had led a different life, perhaps it wouldn't have felt like the end of the world but you knew the attention of the room, of the marriage meeting, being on you was far from good. 

Naoya walked towards you, his presence looming, getting so close you could see his cloth-covered feet nearly touching your knees as you stared down at them. The soft fabric a sharp contrast to the dread pooling in your stomach. Maybe god would be merciful and cause lightning to strike the house, distract everyone, and allow you to escape. But god was not merciful, not kind, nor caring. No one was there to hear your prayers. 

“Smells good,” he crouched before you, cornering you without any way out behind you. He left you with no escape route. “Look at me.” 

His voice dripped with authority, command, and control, your instincts forcing you to comply. Instincts overriding fear, forcing your eyes to meet his own sharp brown eyes. Something in you felt like it was pulling you towards him, screaming at you to go to him. That he was the answer to your problems. That he’d take care of you. 

He looked over you, his gaze filled with an unsettling intensity making you instinctively shrink as he looked for flaws or dents, something that might detract from your value. It was strange. To be appraised not as a person but as an object by him.

The silence stretched on as he did so, no one speaking for the first few minutes. Everyone was waiting to see what he would say — if he would say anything. But as his silent appraisal continued, the conversation returned between the elder alphas in the room as they discussed the latest in sorcery. No one cared that his stare was lecherous, undressing you as you sat there poised and politely. The front of your ankles burned from the strain.

Naoya’s hand went to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands you had to patiently worked into an appropriate style for such an important meeting, before tugging your head to the side with enough force to make you wince. A whine escaped you, feeble, the omega within you desperate to appease him. To desperately try and salvage something to diffuse the undercurrent of rage and entitlement radiating off of him

It was hard to keep your eyes trained on him as he instructed, it felt nearly impossible. The trained reaction of avoiding confrontation, battling with the fear of displeasing him, and looking away only making the situation worse. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat feeling closer and closer to bursting through your chest as he leaned forward, weight in the balls of his feet, face uncomfortably close to your neck. To your scent glands.

Warm, wet muscle brushed against them, tasting the skin. A soft moan fell from your lips as you could feel every individual taste bud of his tongue as he lapped at your neck. 

Embarrassment, mortification-shame dancing along your spine as the room stilled again. Everyone had heard you but no one chose to comment. It was clear Naoya was staking his claim on you. Why would anyone care what he was doing to an omega, especially one with no status? It was his birthright as an alpha. The spices in his scent made your eyes sting with how close he was now, like little pinpricks on your skin.

Each passing swipe of his tongue swirled in your belly, warm and shimmering. Molten lava began to creep freely through your veins, replacing all the blood as you desperately held on to composure. Your nerve endings all thrummed in time with your heart, sending pulsing jolts of electricity everywhere at once. Your throat scratched, your mouth dry, like all the moisture in your body was moving to gather and pool at your core. 

You had seen alphas doing similar things. Scenting unclaimed omegas, testing just how much they could get away with. It was taboo if you were a normal functioning member of society, but when it came to the great families, it was a free game. Never did you think you would have to endure such treatment in front of your family.

“You taste good omega,” Naoya’s teeth scraped against your skin, teasing at a bite, a gasp leaving you. The sensation was both terrifying and strangely intimate. “Like cherries and cinnamon.” 

He moved your head again, this time forcing eye contact with you. The hand not wrapped in your hair crossed over your features. He started at the top of your head, tracing the perimeter of your hairline with his thumbs, pressing in slightly at your temple before moving on to your eyes, your eyelids fluttering shut as he brushed over them. Then he took to your cheekbones, running his thumb parallel to the curve of them before sliding down to your jaw behind your ear. He followed your jawline all the way to your chin before his thumb brushed your lips, smudging the lipstick that had been put on you to ensure your attire was appropriate for today's meeting. You could feel his eyes never leaving you, dark and filled with desire and dominance.

“Open.”

Your eyes snapped open, meeting his instantly. He tapped against your bottom lip, a command you couldn’t ignore. 

“You’re not very smart, are you?” His tone was sardonic, dripping with condescension. It didn’t matter if you were or weren’t. It only mattered what he thought and that you were an omega. 

“Open.” This time, you knew to part your lips.

Naoya’s thumb traced over the ridges of your teeth, pressing in against your canines hard enough that the sharp edges cut the flesh of his finger. Copper explodes on your tongue, the metallic tang filling your senses. He didn’t stop. Instead, he pressed his thumb flush with your tongue, pressing down to force your jaw open wider. 

Behind him the conversation continued to drone on, a forgone hum overpowered by the visceral reality of Naoya’s touch. He poked and prodded you with near clinical detachment. If he wasn’t leaking pheromones betraying just how excited he was to get his hands out, maybe you could believe it. A dispassionate facade only worked well if the scent of his arousal didn’t mix with the metallic taste in your mouth that left you reeling. 

“Kimura-san she’s your niece right?” Naoya’s voice cut through the dull hum of the background, clear and sharp. 

Your uncle lazily glanced over at the spectacle Nayo had made of you. His eyes were half-lidded and uninterested as you sat as still as possible. Your hair was half taken out of its style, no longer held up by the pins and clips that secured it. Now the only thing keeping the rest in place was Naoya’s grip. The lipstick you had so carefully applied was now smeared, and your kimono pushed down from his lapping at your neck like a wild dog. 

Your uncle didn’t even speak, just gave an affirmative nod before taking a drag from his pipe. The scent of tobacco makes your eyes sting. His nonchalance was chilling. You were only a bargaining piece for him.

“So nothing changes between us if I pick her, right?” 

You saw your cousin's shoulders relax, relief snapping the string of tension in her as she realized she would be free of this duty. No longer forced to marry and mate a man with the reputation of a monster. The chains of fate, instead, were passed to you. The metal pulled taught, the chains left to rust from the blood that you’d spill from your heart as they wrapped tight around it, squeezing.

“That’s correct,” your uncle’s tone was impassive as always. “If you want both, however, we’d need to renegotiate.” 

“I just want the one.”

The lock clicked into place, the chains now permanently attached to you. The view out the open shoji screen was so peaceful as you looked over at it. The sky stretched on, endlessly blue with faint spatterings of clouds. Serene and beautiful. A single sparrow flitted by, streaking across the sky. Its wings spread wide as it glided through the air. The birdsong chirped joyfully. 

An arrow shot through the sky striking the bird.

───※ ·❆· ※───

The wedding had been a large affair, filled with laughter and celebration, but none you felt privy too. Soft strains of a koto fill the hall. But no one focused on the young omega sitting at the head of the table, kimono splayed out, surrounding you in a vermillion sea. The grandiosity of the fabric and its patterns made you feel ridiculous, like a dress-up doll. Naoya had picked it out. The obi felt too tight against your stomach, digging into your ribs. They had tied it tighter than normal to keep you from eating too much. There was no reason for them to do so, you already felt sick to your stomach. It churned over and over like the waves crashing against the coast, the tide coming in and out. 

Naoya was seated on your right, his legs spread wide, thigh hitting against yours. The warmth of his body seeped through the wall of fabric between the two of you. Even like this, it was like you could feel his skin against yours.

He had kept you close since the ceremony ended, scenting you every few minutes. Possession in his every move. Sometimes a low growl rumbled from his chest, warning anyone who might think to approach you.

He had already placed a few small nips near your scent gland as well, edging you out of when he’d actually claim you. Each bite sent a shiver down your spine, the sensation a mix of pain and pleasure that pooled in your core. Your body reacted to him in a way that had never happened before. 

“Congratulations Naoya.” It was your uncle, bowing deeply to the two of you. Behind him, your mother also bowed. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of unseen burdens. You knew she regretted bringing you back to the family after your father’s death. That she felt she had sealed you to this fate. 

You could see the dark bags under her eyes when she rose. They had been a permanent feature since your father’s passing and you're presenting as an omega, but now they were so much worse. Your neck felt tight, breathing strained, as you looked at her hands and remembered the feeling of them wrapping around your throat. She smelt like baby lotion still.

“Thank you Kimura-san.” You could taste the satisfaction on his tongue. 

“Naturally. I’m sure your union will bring about the finest sorcerers of a generation,” despite the congratulations of his words, your uncle's tone was flat as always. Uninterested and just going through the motions. 

Naoya brushed his fingers over the shell of your ear, down the back of it, pinching the lop between his fingers. “I’m sure we will.”

The two exchanged a few more words before your uncle and mother returned to their table. Her eyes met yours for a few fleeting moments, filled with sorrow and helplessness. As she walked away, her back slumped, as if the weight of her guilt and regret was physically pushing down on her. You watched her go, the distance between you feeling insurmountable as Naoya’s touch lingered on your skin. 

Several rounds of people came around, giving their congratulations until it was time for another course of food. The noise of their chatter and the general crowd sounded so distant like you were hearing it through a glass cupped over your ears. Your own body felt lost to you, afloat and detached. As if you were watching all of this happen from afar, a mere spectator in your own life. The weight of the ceremony pressed down, deep into your bones, making every movement feel laborious. Faces blurred together—smiles, sneers, looks of pity and envy— all merging into an indistinguishable mass.  The red of your kimono grew duller as the minutes passed, a vinaigrette appearing on the edges of your vision as the walls seemed to close in on you. The rich, fatty scent of the meat was overpowering. Overwhelming. 

You felt Naoya speaking against your skin but could barely register it. It was only when his hand touched the back of your neck that everything snapped into focus again. The tensing was involuntary, your body’s memory reacting for you. 

This was the closest to being alone with Naoya you had gotten despite the hall being full. There was no one next to the two of you. No one’s attention on you.

“You’re pretty docile,” Naoya remarks, his voice low. 

You look up at him through your lashes, swallowing hard. Part of you wanted to recoil away from his touch. To untie your obi and run out through the shoji. To break through them and flee.

“I know my place.” you pause, determining if it was worth it to test the waters. “What would you do if I was to act out, Alpha.” 

“Strike you.” He spoke as if it was natural, obvious as if discussing the weather. His hand tightened ever so slightly on the back of your neck, a reminder of his control. There was finality in his words that you had come to know and expect from the Alphas of the great families.

There was nothing more fitting than a disobedient omega beneath him, a deep-seated belief that it was what they deserved. In their world, an alpha’s omega was theirs to treat and punish as they saw fit. The chain of tradition held fast, a rigid framework trapping you. This was your life. There was no escaping it unless you died. Any rebellion, no matter how small, would have consequences.

“Of course, Alpha. You know best.” It sounded like your voice was coming from another person, made soft and pliant. Your pitch raised slightly. All efforts you could make to seem less threatening and more agreeable. Like you were glad to be under his thumb. 

He liked that, a smirk quirking up the side of his mouth. His hand released your neck to trace down your forehead, mockingly soft and gentle. “Well, aren’t you a charmer? If you’re well-behaved, maybe I’ll reward you, Omega, just be the good little bitch you are.” 

“May I be so bold?”  

He raised an eyebrow. “You may.”

“I would ask of you to allow me to continue to practice my curse technique so that I may be of the utmost service to you.” 

The request hung in the air, your heart pounding as you waited for his response. His expression was unreadable. 

“I’ll consider it,” he replied, tone dismissive. 

“Thank you. Alpha,” you dropped low to present before him, back curved, the words bitter on your tongue. “I will follow your guidance happily.”

His smirk widened into a full-blown, maniacal grin. The shine in his eyes reminded you of teasing death. Cold and unwavering, a chill down your spine. A laugh broke out of him, more of a bark if anything. Wicked in every sense.

“Good god,” he patted the top of your head and pulled you up from your position by your chin. “Keep this up and I might let you give me a son.” 

He leaned in to kiss you. His lips were soft against your own. Surprising as you expected them to be rough. It was possessive, a mark of ownership, as the hand on your jaw squeezed down, forcing you to open your mouth. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

Being married to him was one thing, but being marked by him was another. Once the mark was made, it’d take years of rejecting it before it could go away. It made divorce, as shameful as it was, look easy. It wasn’t something that you’d ever be granted; your uncle would kill you before permitting it, but it was in the realm of possibility. With the feast ended and the two of you alone in his wing of the house, the full weight of everything came crashing down on you.

You shifted, an uneasy pit in your stomach, the temperature of the room made you feel clammy, the dark green futon pillowing under your weight, as Naoya sat behind you. One hand was up in your hair, undoing the pins one by one. Each dropped into a bowl on the ground, tiny silver pieces raining down, ringing against the ceramic. It seemed he had a thing for hair, taking the strands and wrapping them around his fingers, giving each a slight tug that you could feel at the base of your skull.

His other hand moved to untie your obi, the relief instant as it dropped away. It felt like you could finally breathe fully again, greedy lungs taking in large gulps of air. Your ribs would likely have some bruising from just how tight they’d done the obi for the wedding. His hands crept up the length of your left arm, pressure applied as if feeling your outline, before sliding his hand under the fold of your kimono and grabbing your breast.

"Just relax," he whispered, his breath hot, fanning over your skin.  His nose brushed your ear as he leaned in closer, lips nearing your neck. You couldn’t help but to tense.

His teeth sank into your scent gland, and the pain that followed was indescribable. Naoya’s canines were large and sharp. You had seen them every time he spoke or smiled. Pearlescent white panes gleamed in the light, but nothing could have prepared you for the sensation of them piercing your skin. It was like a branding iron searing into your skin, burning the flesh and charring your skin. Your limbs turn to stone, trembling uncontrollably as every muscle in your body tensed, released, and tensed again in waves. 

Your skin felt clammy, a cold sweat breaking out across your entire body and your mind struggled to process the sensation. There was slickness pooling between your legs. The mark was spurring on a heat, your body acting in its most primal way. 

“Stop it hurts” You cry out, voice wobbling from the fear and pain, body contorting violently, instinctively, trying to escape from him. 

Naoya smacks your breast with a force that leaves a handprint instantly against your skin. He bites down harder, teeth sinking even deeper in, the wound tearing open even wider as you writhe around. Finally, a white-hot flash of pleasure begins to course through you, biology taking its hold. It goes from nerve-splitting pain to a warm wash of arousal in a second. Blinking feels like minutes. 

He pulled back from your neck, eyes feral, brow furrowed in a savage expression. Blood stains his mouth. It pools around his lips and paints them a brilliant scarlet, before trailing down in a rivulet that snakes past his chin, down his neck, and into the folds of his yukata. 

“Never tell me what to do again. Do you understand?” His voice is a growl, low and menacing, as his grip tightens on your breast, twisting it to emphasize his point. As if the authority in his voice wasn’t enough. 

You whine, unable to bear his disapproval, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Gasping, you nuzzle against his neck. He smells so good. Spice cloves, sandalwood, and cedar on a winter’s night. “I’ll be good.” 

He lowers his head again, lips curled in a cruel grin, fangs bared. His voice drips with a mix of menace and satisfaction as he whispers, “Now, relax.”

This time, you force yourself to comply, doing your best to let your body go limp. It works better than before. Despite the fear you feel towards him, arousal pumps through your veins. A flood of endorphins courses through them, making every touch cause your skin to tingle and send waves of pleasure straight to your core. It makes your head spin and your limbs heavy. Your skin prickles with a heat that feels almost unbearable, making you itch with a desperate need for release.

It's too hard to keep your eyelids open; they are far too heavy, but you don’t trust Naoya enough to close them. What would he do if you closed them? Your blood feels thick like syrup, molasses sluggishly pulsing. A moan escapes your lips, low, breathy, and drawn out, that pitches into a whine as Naoya releases his grip on your neck and licks the wound closed with rough strokes of his tongue. He swirls the tip around each puncture wound, dipping the tip into it before doing so to the next.

“See? If you had just listened, it would have been this good from the start,” he murmurs, his voice a soft, mocking caress. He pinches your nipple sharply. Your head lolls against his chest, too heavy to hold up.

“Oh ho ho,” he laughs, the sound vibrating through your body. “Someone’s going into heat.”

It feels like everything is moving in slow motion as Naoya manhandles you. He tilts your head to the other side. The top half of your kimono is completely off, leaving your skin exposed to the cold, biting air of his room. Sweat beads on every inch of your skin. You struggle to keep your eyes from closing, fighting the overwhelming sensations that flood your body. You feel Naoya’s teeth graze against your other scent gland, the sharp sting of his teeth scraping against the skin but he doesn’t bite down. 

Instead, he laps and laps and laps at your neck, his tongue moving in languid, deliberate strokes as if devouring an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Whimpers flow out of you like water from a stream, and your pussy flutters around nothing. 

Naoya squeezes you roughly, his hands greedily exploring your body. His touch is rough and demanding, large hands groping at your curves like he’s a man starved for flesh as he fondles your breasts, squeezing your nipples, making them stand erect from the stimulation. He likes you gasps and whines, the fat of your breasts squishing under the expanse of his hands as he toys with them. Likes the heft of them, meaty and heavy, makes him growl low in the back of his throat in approval. He can picture them swelling with milk that would nourish his heir and make them strong. He’d sample the source, suckle straight from your teat, and make sure his heifer was quality.

“My little breeding bitch,” he murmurs, his voice dark. 

Naoya’s hand slips down your front, his fingers finding the slick pool of arousal in your pussy. He pumps a finger in, meeting no resistance, then slides in a second easily, your pussy oh so inviting.

“Fuck, you’re ready for me already.” He chuckles, the wet squelch of your pussy sounding out with each movement of his fingers. “Such a desperate little whore. I bet you can’t wait to feel my knot, hmm? Say it.”

Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth, the effort to speak almost insurmountable, speech slurred and your words mumbled. His impatience manifests in a swift, sharp strike to your clit, making you cry out in a mix of pain and anticipation. Through the haze, you manage to speak. 

“I can’t wait to feel your knot,” you manage to gasp out, biting the tip of your tongue in the process. It swells fat. 

It's been so long since you’d had a heat. Suppressants had been shoved onto you after your first one almost nine years ago. You don’t remember this first stage of preheat being so delirious, so inconsistent, so in control and out of it as you lean back against him and let him fondle your breasts.

His fingers feel divine as they pump in and out of you, accompanied by a scissoring motion that sends shivers down your spine. The feeling is almost enough to distract you from the rough way he's pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. He pulls at them like he doesn’t care if it hurts, like he wants it to hurt, and it does. 

Your hips buck involuntarily against his hand, your body moving on it as you chase your high. Whimpers fall from your lips, needy desperate cries that only egg on his treatment towards you. He likes you like this, all whiny and under his palm.

With a rough tug, he pushes the rest of your kimono off, leaving you bare and vulnerable against his fully clothed body. His hands are slick with your arousal, glistening fingers curled into you and smearing moisture down his forearm as you shamelessly use his hand for your pleasure. Your knees ache from the position, thighs straining with each thrust of your hips, muscles trembling on the edge of release. It's so close that the edge of your vision goes black as you tilt ever so slightly forward, and then it happens.

Your orgasm rips through you, your whole body locks, walls clenching around his fingers as you come crashing down. A flood of slick spills out, drenching the futon beneath you. The sage green is now a deep forest green, damp and warm to the touch from how much came out of you. It’s hard to breathe, chest heaving as you try to suck in the air. 

"Messy bitch. Look at what you've done," Naoya tsks at you, even as you jerk in his arms you can tell he’s less angry and more amused by it. With a push, he sends you forward, your front pressing into the wet spot, his fingers sliding out of your pussy. "Clean it up," he orders, his voice dripping with command.

It takes a long moment to catch your breath, to remember how to be a person and move, but you grab the edge of your kimono to pat dry the area when Naoya smacks the globe of your ass. 

“Not with that.”

You stare at the spot for a second. If not the kimono there was only one other thing that could be it.  

You begin to kitten lick at your slick. It's egregiously sweet, like a potent concentrate of your scent amplified to an overwhelming degree. The flavor makes your stomach turn, threatening to gag you with its intensity. You’ve no idea how any alpha enjoys the flavor this much. 

Naoya's gaze never strays from you as he begins to undress, his movements lazy and relaxed. He’s enjoying the show, reducing you to this. Rising to his feet, he pads across the room to hang his yukata on a nearby stand. He only breaks eye contact with you for the brief moment it takes to drape his garment properly. Your wedding kimono, three times the price of his own, is lying in a pile near you on the floor.

Even with his back turned, you don't stop licking up the puddle of slick. Your tongue scrapes softly against the futon, gathering the lingering wetness to swallow down with a quiet gag. The only sound in the room is your tongue against the fabric and your soft breathing.

A soft, small smile on his face when he looks at you next. His inner Alpha is pleased you’ve kept at your assigned task without being told to. His cocks hard, uncut and dribbling pre-cum, knot starting to swell at the base, eyes going over the curve of your back, the globes of your ass in the air, and the continuous trail of simmering slick dripping out of your needy hole.

He closed the distance, cock bobbing with each step. Dropping to one knee, one hand comes to rest on the meat of your ass, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades to push your chest further into the futon. The fabric rubs uncomfortably against your hardened nipples. 

For a moment he just sits there, massaging the meat of your ass before his fingers sink in, hard enough to leave bruises in the morning. Then, without warning, he reels back, from the corner of your eye you see his shoulder muscles tense before his arm is launched forward, palm connecting with your ass in a volatile crack that rings out in the room. Pain explodes a hot white.  

“Count them,” he orders with a smile as you begin to cry.

"One," you gasp out, the word a struggle to form.

His palm connects again, the blow landing a little higher on your cheek.

"Two."

The next strike comes before you can fully process the previous, his hand falling in a swift, merciless rhythm.

"Three."

"Four." The word is a sob this time, the pain starting to overwhelm.

The fifth smack seems to sting more than the first three, the imprint of his wedding ring starting to dig in. You can feel the metal biting into your skin, a cool counterpoint to the burning heat.

"F-five."

He stops for a moment to collect slick on his fingers. “Fucking filthy slut. I knew you’d be one.” Naoya smears the slick over the burning heat of your ass, his tone approving despite what he says. 

"Six," you manage, the word a broken gasp.

The next smack seems to shatter the air, his hand coming down with renewed force.

"Seven."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, vision starting to blur. But you keep counting.

"Eight."

"Nine."

The final blow lands, his palm cracking down.

"Ten."

You collapse forward, your body spent and trembling. The humiliation of being treated like this, reduced to a mere object, burns through you. What makes it worse is how desperately your body craves him, even as your heartbeat hammers in your ass and tears stream down your face, snot bubbling at your nose. The omega in you wants nothing more than to please him, to make him happy. You need to make him happy, so he'll know you, claim you as his own.

Biology was a curse. 

"Do you know what you did wrong?" His voice is low, rough with dominance. Oh, how it hurt to hear him so mad at you. Why was he so mad at you? 

Your mind races, trying to answer the question. "No?"

"You came without permission. Are you going to do that again?" There's a warning in his tone, a promise of punishment if you disobey again.

"No." The word escapes your lips, a whispered promise of submission. You whine for him, lower into yourself, pheromones reeking of just how sorry you are. 

Naoya's hand tightens in your hair, pulling your chest off the futon, forcing your back into an arch. Your muscles tremble with the strain, too exhausted from the heat to sustain such a position for long. A whine builds in your throat, begging him to finally take you, to knot you, breed you.

"Then prove it."

He smacks your ass again, one last time for good measure, before dropping your hair. You catch yourself on your elbows, presenting yourself for him. Naoya's hands grab your hips, one positioning you to align with the head of his cock, the other stroking his length. After he's gotten you through this first wave of heat, he'll have you choke on his cock, make you take it to the back of your throat and swallow, see what he's working with and what he'll have to train, but for now, he'll start with your pussy.

The tip of his cock feels too big against your hole, even after he's fingered you. Tensing comes naturally as it catches on your entrance, anticipation, need, and fear running through you. The flared tip feels like it's going to split you in two as he begins to press into you. He flares out in the middle, his shaft thicker there, making you moan as he begins to bottom out in you. His size is almost overwhelming, the stretch bordering on pain. If you weren’t in a pre-heat it would most definitely be painful. 

He's kind enough to insert himself into you slowly, not wanting to damage your insides and ruin his chances of getting you pregnant. You can feel every inch of him as he slowly rolls his hips for the first time, experimenting with how much he can fit inside you. Moans come like spring rain, a sure thing, as he inserts himself. He pushes into you slowly, relishing in the way you clench and spasm around him. He’s so gentle compared to earlier, it makes your head spin. Your cries echo in the room, music to his ears. Once he's bottomed out, he stills.

A mix of a choked moan and a sob tumbles out of your lips. You can't tell if it hurts or feels so good you've surpassed feeling entirely. Your pussy flutters around him, suctioning him tighter as he pulls out. 

"Fuck, you're tight," Naoya grunts, his hands grabbing your hips for leverage. "Beg for my cum, bitch."

His voice is rough like gravel, little pebbles tumbling down your spine. 

"Please, fill me," you moan, tears spilling from your eyes. "Please, Naoya-sama, cum inside me. Breed me so that I might give you an heir." The words spill out of you, a desperate plea for him to claim you, to make you his. You can't even find it in yourself to beg him anymore, the words just spilling out. It all feels too much, overwhelmingly full, and yet still not enough. Your body screams for release, desperately for his knot, for the satisfaction that only an alpha can give you. 

Naoya slams his hips into you, harder and faster than he has before, his balls slapping against your clit. His pace picks up, your arms giving out as he continues to set a brutal pace, thrusting deep and powerful. Each thrust feels like he's close to hitting against your cervix, but he never does. It feels like your whole body is shaking, like you've been set to vibrate. You don't know when one moan starts and another stops. Vision blurring at the edges, the only thing that matters is the narrow point in the world where your skin meets his. All that exists is the feeling of him inside you, his hand on your hips, the sweat on your skin, the need. 

The way that his thick cock rubs against your walls sends jolts of electricity down your spine. Every time he pulls back, you clench down, trying to keep him in you. He's not even fully seated inside of you and your whole body trembles, his cock filling you up. It’s impossibly full, you feel like you’re going to split apart at the seams as your pussy works to milk him. 

He smacks your ass again, the opposite cheek. "You're mine, remember that. Nothing but my little bitch to breed."

He fucks you harder, lifting one of your hips to angle himself deeper. This allows him to rub directly against your g-spot, electric shocks firing on every nerve in your body. Every time he pulls back, you clench down, trying to keep him in you. He's not even fully seated inside of you and your whole body trembles. The sensation is overwhelming, each motion pushing you further and further into the depths of your heat. 

The room is filled with the sound of wet squelching and flesh meeting flesh, your body now rocking back to meet his every thrust, your breasts jiggling with each thrust. Naoya's thrusts become more frantic, his movements more sporadic. He's close, his knot swelling. The thought of being knotted by him makes you gush, juices flowing over his cock and staining the sheets below. You feel your orgasm building, a tsunami approaching the shoreline. Your entire body is a livewire, humming with tension. 

It's then you notice the mirror that faces you. It's huge, covering half the wall, showing everything. Naoya lifts your chest, then hooks his fingers into the sides of your mouth and pulls them taut. It feels like your lips are going to crack with the strain, stings like sand sanitizer in a paper cut. You let out a low moan, drool dripping down the front of your body and pooling on the mattress beneath you. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glassy, there’s an unmistakable handprint on your breast from earlier, and if you could see your ass, it’d be the same. There’s a glow to your skin from your heat, makes you shiny and supple. Makes you breedable. 

"You're so much prettier when you smile, omega." His voice is low, rough with arousal.

He lets go of your mouth and just props you up, one hand around your chest to do so. It's you who holds the smile instead, a wild look in your eyes. 

Naoya keeps thrusting, and it's like the world around you fades away as his cock stretches your walls, and the edge of his knot catches on your hole with each deep thrust. It's big. Bigger than the toys you've had, bigger than the ones you've heard of, you don't know if it's going to fit. A flicker of fear passes over you, but it's quickly overwhelmed by desire and discarded. 

His other hand reaches around and rubs your sensitive clit, flicking it back and forth. You're so close to cumming, heartbeat hammering down in your pussy. Each pass of his fingers sends sparks through your system, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

"Cum for me, slut. Milk my cock. Scream for your Alpha." His words are a command, a demand for your pleasure.

You cry out, your body giving in to the pleasure, wave after wave of orgasm crashing down on you, your entire body going limp. Naoya pays it no mind, only holds your hips up as you fall limp, using you like a fleshlight. It feels like he's going to break you as he fucks you through your orgasm and finally pushes his knot inside you, your pussy convulsing around it. 

A wickedly delicious kind of pain, the type to leave you breathless. 

He keeps thrusting, his range limited, his knot locking the two of you together before he finally comes, his breath hitching. Hot ropes of cum paint your insides. It feels like it's too much cum to fit inside you, like it's going to spill out, but his knot keeps it firmly in place. His grip on your hips feels like it's going to break your bones, his nails drawing blood. He grunts for a few minutes, rocking his hips, milking his cock out with your pussy, before finally stopping.

Naoya bends over you and licks the shell of your ear before nibbling it. "You're never going to get away from me. You're mine to use, mine to abuse. You'll never get to leave me." He rocks his hips again, cock twitching inside you. "You won't be alone for long though, pretty girl." 

©️ uzuzrimisery

a massive thank you to my beta readers @craftycheetah @rii-bows @lovelyroseybunny and my friend cas who i dm'd weekly about this fic for over a month insecure about writing omegaverse

[lale-txt]

❥ subtle ways they say "I love you" without saying it ↳ w/ Nanami, Ino, Toji & Naoya

a/n: gn!reader for Nanami, Toji & Ino, f!reader for Naoya! somehow i got carried away writing these and halfway through wondered if i should have just made single fics for each of them... oh well ♡-(๑˙ー˙๑)-♡

word count: 1.5k

❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

Nanami needs his sweet time until he’ll put his feelings into proper words, part of him too afraid to pursue love during his time as jujutsu sorcerer, but his actions have always been louder than words anyway

his love is stored in the smallest gestures, like fixing the collar of your shirt or helping you put on a necklace, not letting you go without kissing the back of your neck gently, his lips lingering on your skin for a heartbeat longer than expected

when you’re in a bookstore together, his eyes always follow you around even when you’re looking at different shelves; he observes which books you pick up and put back again because you have too many unread ones at home (both of you are terrible book hoarders), just so he can go back another day and get you the one book you really wanted

sometimes he’ll also make the time to read it before he gifts it to you, small scribbled thoughts on the side so you can discuss them together later–a tiny book club of two lovers

in the comfort of your home, Nanami is also incredibly touchy, never not seeking skin contact; anything will do, even if it’s just linked pinkies across the table while you’re having your morning coffee and sharing the newspaper

his love will seep into you with every gaze, every smile, every kiss you share

with you, Nanami can let his guard down; he can allow himself to just be loved, with his head in your lap as you run your fingers through his hair, charming out sweet sounds from his throat that sound a lot like “I love you” if you listen closely

if he has to leave for a solo mission, Nanami will leave a handwritten note on the table for you to find in the morning, nothing too cheesy but enough to remind you that you’re always on his mind

and if you show him your collection of notes one day, stored in a box in your closet, a smile will play upon his lips, asking you if you really kept all of them (even if some of them just say things like “Can you buy eggs while I’m out? I want to make us waffles for breakfast tomorrow” or “I watered your dying plant on the top shelf. xx”) 

there’s wonder in his eyes when he looks at you, as if he sometimes finds it hard to believe that your love is mutual, that he’s allowed to experience this during his lifetime, and the quiet hope that maybe, maybe this can last forever

❦ 𝐈𝐍𝐎

Ino’s love for you is written all over his face: the way it lights up when he sees you, the confident yet boyish smirk when you compliment him, the gleam in his eyes when you call out for him

it’s in his touch, too

his fingers playing with yours when you’re sitting somewhere together, always fidgeting with them as if he couldn’t believe that he really gets to hold your hand

or the arm that sneaks around your waist when you’re on the train together and it’s crowded, his body shielding you from the other passengers and giving you some space to breathe (plus–how convenient–he can steal a kiss from your lips without anyone looking, too)

Ino also walks you home at any given occasion, whether it’s after a night out with your senpais or after a mission you’ve been on together; he doesn’t mind that he lives in a different neighborhood or if he has to get up early the next day, he rather wants to know you’re home safely

when you’re apart, Ino and you keep texting with each other throughout the day, his lips curling into a smile whenever your name lights up on his screen

Ino will text you everything and anything that reminds him of you and it’s plenty and in the most mundane things

[img.attached] “saw this chonky cat on my mission. u would have loved to give them belly rubs. Nanami said i’m not allowed to take them home with me”

[new text] “i think we should adopt a cat one day. maybe two so it doesn’t get lonely. knowing us we’ll also adopt a third”

[voice message] “babe can you hear this? i’ve never heard a cat purr like this. (sounds of rustling and Ino sweet talking to the cat, it’s purring very loudly)”

[new text] “i hope the cat distribution system chooses us next”

being loved by Ino means being part of his future and his dreams; he’s thinking of you always and can’t imagine a life without you in it, so listen closely when he tells you all about it

❦ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji isn’t shy to admit his love verbally, whispered into your ear at night, his voice bourbon raspy, making sure you never forget how your own name sounds when rolled off his lips

being in love makes him domestic; Toji grew up not knowing what a warm home is, and so he’ll strive to make his place one for you both to hide from the world outside

it’s like your presence is a reminder that even someone like him is allowed to love, and be loved in return

Toji brings you your favorite beverage to bed in the morning, urging you not to get up just yet (he also wants to slip back under the covers with you)

if you really have to get up on on cold mornings though, Toji will give you his worn and warmed up sweater for you to wear so you won’t be freezing

he also slips pocket warmers into your coat before you leave the house and gives you the deepest kiss, almost as if his biggest concern is that you stay warm

cooking isn’t Toji’s strong suit but he’ll get you takeout, even if it means driving across the whole town to get you that one dish from that specific restaurant that you’re craving (and some dessert on top); your big smile once he returns home is his solely reward

after seeing you struggle with opening a jar of jam once, Toji will go around the kitchen and loosen the lids of all the jars for you. every single one of them. there won’t be even one jar left that gives you any further troubles

it’s endearing in a way, how Toji always takes the fastest route to solve your struggles (there’s barely anything he can’t solve with his hands)

with love, it all comes down to warmth for Toji: the heat of your body when he has his arms wrapped around you. letting you warm up your cold hands on his stomach (he tries his best not to flinch). sharing a hot bath while you’re getting snowed in.

to Toji, you are his sun, the one who brought back colors into his life and who showed him what it means to live despite everything; he may be blinded by your light but he doesn’t need to see to find your lips in every universe 

❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀

Naoya doesn’t do love, he prefers to be worshiped and adored over admitting his feeling for you

yet still, he has his ways of showing that you actually mean something more to him than just being his trophy wife

the kitchen staff and servants have been drilled to cook all of your meals exactly to your liking, and he’ll look overly pleased with himself over dinner when he notices that you enjoy the food, proud of himself as if he was the one who prepared it for you (smug bastard that he is)

there’s always an air of possessiveness around him when you’re with him; as if he wants the whole world to know that you’re his wife, even insisting you walk by his side instead of behind him, always one hand around your waist or in the back of your neck, making sure to keep you close

even though it displeases him that you want to spent time apart from him, he made sure that you get a room of your own in the Zen’in estate after your arranged marriage (he still lingers around often until you kick him out)

he insists on sharing a bed at night though–it’s when he gets surprisingly clingy, insisting to hold you close, his hands playing with anything he can get a hold of: your hair, the hem of the pajamas he picked out for you in the color he thinks suits you best, the ring on your finger that proofs you’re his

Naoya can be surprisingly gentle in those moments when it’s just the two of you–no family and no servants around

his sharp yellow eyes study your features thoroughly, ignoring the pull at his heart strings when he picks up an eyelash from your cheeks and holds it out for you when you make a wish

he’s dying to know what you wished for, but he doesn’t ask; part of him scared it doesn’t involve him, part of him too prideful to believe you could wish for something that doesn’t include him, because at the end of the day you still belong to him–or is it the other way around?

[hanasnx]

" YOU DON'T SEEM TO LIKE IT WHEN WE TALK " — naoya zenin.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: dedicated to @dosiido. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ dom naoya ノ dubcon: coercion ノ sexual content ノ unprotected sex ノ arranged marriage ノ breeding ノ degradation: m + f receiving ノ objectification ノ size difference.

"It helps you're easier on the eyes." NAOYA ZENIN teases, nipping his teeth against the line of your jaw. You're frustrated, and he's exacerbating it deliberately with how leisured his ruts are. Dragging out this experience at a snail's pace, the anger flared in your chest reignites with each detail of his cock sliding against the sensitivity of your walls. Your lips press together, refusing to look him in the eye despite him chasing it.

"You're a pig." you spit. Unfortunately, he chuckles. It's dark, cold, triumphant. You jerk your head away as you feel his body heat near.

"I'd prefer it if you kept that mouth shut. Might get you into some trouble." he replies, and you huff at his threat. Even if it holds truth, you're sure any fate would be better than remaining his wife. He picks himself up on his knees, large hands splay under your hips to raise them from the mattress. "At least try to act like you want it. You're to carry my heir after all, is that not an honor?" he purrs, rubbing salt in the wound as lifts you against your will. Despite your resistance, he bottoms out, his grasp on you tightening to a painful degree—purposefully making you wince. His powerful body flexes with each movement, not a muscle out of place, yet it appears easy. Like you weigh nothing to him, he uses your hole like a fleshlight.

The lack of lube from your disinterest is not a deterrent for him, instead he winds his deft hips in a circle, lodging his dick all up in your sticky insides. It hurts.

You throw your hands down to the mattress at your sides, neck craned from the position he's chosen to put you in with your back fully arched off the bed and your ass in his hands. "Will you just get it over with, Zenin?"

"I'm enjoying myself, aren't you?" your husband's steady pace of ruts annoys you to no end because he's milking it. He's not even close to finishing, and the sooner he does the sooner this will be done, and he knows that. With Naoya, it's not good enough you're practically his property—and his future incubator—but you're entertainment, too. He weaponizes your distaste for him.

You sigh, clawing into the sheets as a way to curb your anger. If you show too much emotion, you know it'll end badly for you. "This is to serve a purpose. Consummate the marriage, make a kid. I don't want to do anything else." you explain, despite knowing the likelihood it'll bury you. "If you could just—"

"You're just saying that."

Brows furrow, exasperatingly puzzled at him. "The hell are you talking about?"

That sickeningly wolfish grin stretches wider on his features. He'd be handsome if he wasn't so evil, if his personality wasn't so putrid, if he didn't disgust you. His canines and ear piercings alike glint in the dull light, like a yokai. "You can't refuse me." he replies easily, as if relaying the weather. Like his dick isn't in you raw, fucking your drying walls with no regard for your comfort or enjoyment or even fulfillment. "If you don't give me what I want, I'll take it from you."

At the prospect of yet another threat—one you're significantly more wary of—you open your mouth to refute, but your incredulousness is cut short by a palm swatting over your gaping trap. A darker, more sinister fire glows in his eyes as he looms over you. "Speak again, and the clan'll wonder why my brand new wife is tongueless." Your fear shows on your face visible under the large surface area of his hand, swallowing hard. "Make yourself useful and lie there."

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.