Chapter 1: Main Menu
Chapter Text
TABLE OF CONTENTS
These are written for specific dates in mind and I will be committed to the schedule for posting. <3
♡ 1st: Tinsel — Shoko Ieiri ☑️
In which you’re both hopelessly broke and Shoko has an unconventional way to decorate with you as the centrepiece.
♡ 5th: String Lights — Kenjaku
In which Kenjaku likes it when you’re all sleepy and obedient just for him, so he takes taming you to a whole new level.
♡ 10th: Cold Hands — Kento Nanami
In which your hands are cold and your husband wants to help you keep warm.
♡ 14th: Mistletoe — Naoya Zenin
In which Naoya gets all flustered (begrudgingly) from a little kiss under some mistletoe so he subjects himself to something he’d never thought he would be into.
♡ 18th: Decorating — Toji Fushiguro
In which you’re both tipsy and clumsy and fall onto Toji who can’t help but wander with his hands when he has you right there.
♡ 21st: Mulled Wine — Choso Kamo
Choso gets way too warm and has trouble cooling down after drinking mulled wine, so you both shower together to bring down his temperature.
♡ 23rd: Baking Cookies — Suguru Geto
In which baking some cookies you found a recipe for online becomes much messier than you had originally planned.
♡ 27th: Presents — Satoru Gojo
In which Satoru can’t stand not knowing what something you’ve gotten him is, so you playfully shut him up with too many kisses which ends up becoming something else entirely.
Chapter 2: Tinsel — Shoko Ieiri
Summary:
Shoko had an unconventional idea to decorate, since you were so determined to get a tree.
Notes:
shoko ieiri x f!reader; established relationships here, mutual pining, quickly dissolves into mutual yearning but ultimately quite tame for what it is. <3
Chapter Text
“But, we’re both up on the fourth floor,” Shoko groaned, rubbing at one of her eyes with her palm in slight distress, considering the sheer logistics of what you were asking her.
All the while you pouted, fixing her with a pleading look. “It would look so pretty though.”
She was quick to roll her eyes at seeing how quickly you became a mess right before her. “Pretty?” she asked, her voice coated in a tone that sounded like exasperation.
You hummed along agreeably that time, strutting over to where she sat on the sofa. She was wearing a loose t-shirt with sleeves that stopped at her elbows and a pair of sweatpants. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail that was so loose that more strands of hair spilt free when she tilted her head at you.
You climbed carefully over her, straddling her lap.
Of course, she pulled you closer, her arms unable to resist wrapping right around your waist. She pressed her nose against the crook of your neck, enjoying the feel of you—the scent of you—thinking that you smelled so good right now. Like cinnamon.
“I just want to look all cosy and stuff,” you admitted, softer, with less of a bratty edge to your words. Your voice came out slightly muffled as you murmured into the fabric of the sofa, your face pushed up against the cushion.
“I get what you mean,” she replied, running her hand up and down your back in slow, languid strokes. “But, my love, we’re both lazy as fuck. I don’t think we even have it in us to be bothered to ask for help, let alone drag a whole tree up here.”
“But we bought decorations…” you trailed off, pulling back to look down at her, seeing the start of the laugh she was already barely holding back. The corners of her lips were twitching. “Are we dumb?”
Unable to resist poke some fun, she finally smiled. “Dumb?” she highlighted. “Oh, why yes, of course, but…”
She sat up that time, carefully guiding you over so that you would softly fall against the sofa before stepping away towards the supply closet across the room, where you had both stashed away the festive supplies. She smiled once, a certain sort of look in her eyes that made your heart jump, before pulling out a long string of glittering tinsel.
“Shoko…?” you asked her, trying to decipher her intentions. “What’re you thinking?”
Your tone was a little wary, because your girlfriend, if you had to admit it, was a pervert when she wanted to be. When she could get away with it. She always had a certain glint in her eyes whenever such a look crossed her mind, sparking with something that was anything but innocent.
“I’m just thinking of how hot you’d look on with nothing on but this,” she explained, her fingers curling around the tinsel. It ruffled in her hands, sounding like soft static. Then her voice dipped, “Pretty please?”
A halfhearted scoff left your lips. “Pretty please?” you mirrored. “Now who’s being needy?”
“You got me,” she was quick to yield, not even bothering to hide it. She then took a couple of steps forward, leaning down to wrap the tinsel around your neck so that it rested on your shoulders like a scarf. “Please?” she asked once more. “It would mean so much.”
You took a long and dramatic deep breath, rolling your eyes at her words, but you didn’t deny her wish. You stood up from where you sat, handing her the tinsel, starting to undress, shrugging off your clothes to the floor as a messy pile started to form.
Shoko’s eyes lit up at the sight of you all naked and exposed, but also, she was also quick to move forward with her aspirations. Taking a step forward to close the distance, she carefully coiled the roll of tinsel around and around your body, covering up your breasts, your stomach and your sex and some of your thighs.
You stood there and took it the whole time, of course, because Shoko seemed to find genuine enjoyment from doing so, then. Her eyes shone with focus, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she fixed on making it all look just right.
When she was done, she took a step back, her hands resting on her hips, looking you up and down.
“How do I look?” you asked her, striking a couple of poses. Each time, the tinsel would slip a little, revealing your skin.
“Fantastic,” she replied almost breathlessly.
Though you shivered a little, feeling your teeth rattle against each other. “A bit cold though,” you admitted.
Shoko’s eyes lit up with something else then. Not quite pity, but something else. “Oh?”
“Yeah, um,” you continued, knowing that you had her full attention then, “I mean, tinsel is pretty, sure, but I’m not a tree, Shoko. I’m cold.”
“Cold?” she highlighted, taking a step back to where she was before. Her hands branched out towards the bare areas of your skin, brushing against the soft flesh with reverence in her touch. Her breath hitched as she did so, savouring the way you felt.
Then, right as you had her, you caught her attention with something else. “Hey, Shoko?”
She hummed, barely noticing, too focused on guiding her hands around the soft give of your shape, marvelling at the smoothness. Then, you leaned in, unable to resist, planting a kiss on her lips.
Shoko’s breath caught in her throat again, but she was quick to reciprocate, her fingers curling around your body—her nails pressing into wherever they ended up—kneading around you with rising want and need.
She leaned into you then, driving the moment forward with such determination that you stumbled back a step, landing right on the sofa, but she didn’t stop there. Shoko was quick with it—straddling over you that time—her palms squeezing around your breasts; her lips still moving over yours.
Then, she pulled away a little. “You know,” she panted, “you drive me insane sometimes.”
You caught your breath, too. “I know.”
“Maddening little thing,” she quipped before kissing you again, and again, and again. Her lips trailing down to meet with your neck, your collarbones and your breasts, but still, she seemed tired then.
Your hands wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her as she came to rest on your stomach, manoeuvring both of your bodies so that she came to rest on top of yours.
“So sleepy,” you murmured, brushing her hair back, taking in the way she was quick to succumb in your presence, like putty in your hands.
Shoko hummed, wrapping her arms around your waist a little tighter as she drifted off to sleep, now being the one who was oh so needy, and whining and whatever else she must have accused you of being.
Knowing fully well that she couldn't keep her hands off of you—not even when fast asleep.
Chapter 3: String Lights — Kenjaku
Summary:
Kenjaku had what he claimed to be, a “fun” way to wake you up.
Notes:
some light bondage with the lights, some shocking, dubious electricity because i don’t know—let’s suspend our beliefs for how lightbulbs work, oral sex (giving), completely all consensual, we can assume the reader is a grey zone insert for being with kenny :)
Chapter Text
As if your days weren’t chaotic enough already, you felt a certain surge of dread when you woke up to Kenjaku standing over you, fixing you with an almost… expectant smile. His hands held onto something, but whatever it was, he kept it expertly concealed. His lips curled, and his breath hitched, as if barely holding himself together over what he had planned.
“Good… morning…?” you tried to say, your voice hoarse and thick with sleep.
As per usual, he sounded a little too smooth for your comfort, “How nice of you to finally be up.”
You blinked over at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. “It’s like… five in the morning.”
“Which is plenty late for the things I have planned,” he revealed, pulling the covers off your body, revealing your ruffled form to his hungry eyes. “Now, won’t you be good and sit up for me with your arms extended away from your body?”
You blinked once more, hardly able to keep up with his specific requests. You just barely managed to sit up, although you swayed as you did. Your eyes kept closing, and you couldn’t help but yawn. Just as he told you to, though, you branched out your hands away from your body, not quite protesting as he guided your limbs into all sorts of strange positions. You felt something vaguely plastic and uncomfortable prod around you in the low light, but it wasn’t until he was done that you could tell what it must have been.
Before you could further react, he stepped back, and you heard something flick—like a switch. Then, much to the horror of your tired eyes, your whole body lit up. It took you just about forever to process it in your sleep-addled mind that not only were you all tied up—but in string lights—the bulbs exposed and digging into your skin. When you struggled in an attempt to writhe your way out of the arrangement, however, you would experience a sharp, shocking sensation on your skin.
“The hell is this…?” you mumbled, quick to interrogate him.
Kenjaku smiled, offering you a shrug at most. “My perfect display.”
“Seriously, what is—” you paused abruptly, hissing at the small electrical charge, “—this?”
“A hasty project,” he revealed, running a finger along your exposed skin. “If you can just keep still, then this will be a fun and harmless experiment. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Yeah?” you scoffed, biting back another shock. “And if I can’t?”
“Then you’ll be zapped all over,” he admitted, laughing lightly at the idea before his tone shifted into something darker. He leaned over you, the hair from his borrowed vessel spilling to veil over your face. “Thing is, though,” he added softly, “I’ve been a bit… pent up lately. You can call it stress, if you’d like. It’s… not easy doing the things I do. Researching as I do.”
“Doing all of those things is completely optional, by the way,” you reminded him.
He hummed, seeming a touch irritated at that quip, before tucking a finger below your chin, nodding you up to face him. “So you say, but tell me… I have been generous to you, haven’t I?”
“For someone who tells me quite often that you could easily snap my neck if you’d ever get bored with me,” you were quick to mutter out, tanking all of the shocks as you did bitterly, “then… yes.”
His lips curved into a smile, and he pulled back, tilting his head. “Correct. So… keep me entertained, why don’t you? Show me that you still have at least some use left in you.”
You grumbled again but sat up straighter that time, failing to remember that you were all bundled up in a mess of lights that struck pain into your body if you moved wrong.
“Fine,” you snapped, begrudgingly giving in. “Then you’ll untie me after?”
“Perhaps,” he considered, albeit not sounding too sure himself. “Only if you do a good job, though.”
You inhaled sharply, glancing up to meet the expectant look that he wore on his face, gulping down a scoff lest you trigger another zap.
Then, he stepped closer again, triggering it all anyway from the way his fingers curved around your scalp, bringing your face closer towards his slowly parting robe. He pushed your head down into the depths of where his arousal lurked, already hard and eager. His tip poked insistently at your mouth as his length found your lips, not so much probing for a testing taste, but outright demanding entry.
Kenjaku tightened his grip around your skull, tugging on the roots. “Well?”
Your lips parted without being asked a second time, allowing him to slowly guide himself into the cavern of your mouth. You were still half asleep, though, so the invitation from your open mouth was closer to a conveniently timed yawn. The way your mouth sealed over him as you settled your jaw to conclude it was an intoxicating sensation that he couldn’t resist leaning his hips into.
An action which resulted in a series of charges to ripple through your body.
Somehow, you had the sense not to react with a bite, even if it would have been an artificial, knee-jerk reaction. Still, he’d prefer if you didn’t damage the vessels too quickly, and besides that, pain was still pain. He loosened his grip ever so slightly for your quick thinking, rewarding you for thinking of him rather than yourself in that moment.
How well he has trained you.
Though the true reward would come later, so he pushed forward again, allowing you to get used to the unpleasant, shocking predicament that he had placed you into. He pulled you back ever so slightly before tilting his hips forward again, allowing you to slowly adapt, finding movements that would shock you less, and if they did, you wouldn’t end up flinching as hard as before.
This particular vessel was on the larger side, too, so he certainly knew that it was a challenge for you. God, you did such a good job taking him in, though. The way your mouth widened just far enough for him to comfortably push through and meet your throat had him just about seeing stars. You didn’t react as much as you once did when he first met you. So again. He had trained you well, indeed.
Your movements were otherwise somewhat mechanical as you fought through the thick fog of being impossibly tired, moving with your body to not ignite anything unjust. Your tongue swirled along his shaft as it glided in and out, taking him however best you could as he gradually deepened his strokes, pushing even further into your throat. Soon enough, you found yourself gagging around him—your nose pressed into his stomach—resisting the urge to pull away as he held you in place.
You couldn’t see it then, but the look he gave you then could have almost resembled something fond.
Kenjaku held you there for a while, marvelling at the way your throat constricted around his girth, with each involuntary swallow driving him closer and closer towards the edge. Typically, he would go by what the vessel he occupied enjoyed, and so, he allowed for his body to guide him just a little. It felt better to give in to what felt right, after all.
Soon, however, he let you pull back just a little, growing concerned that he had somehow trained you so well that you had forgotten how to breathe and so, he tapped you on the cheek then, shaking you by the shoulders when you didn’t immediately respond. It was only when he felt a rolling sweep of pent-up air brush along his skin that he relaxed, but only briefly.
Once he was certain that you weren’t dying—he doubled his efforts—which was about when the true pain began, because as he grew erratic from the impending climax, his movements grew far less precise. Your body rippled and stung, feeling sore from where the sparks seemed to prick the most. It was, however, easier to focus on giving him pleasure than to give in to the pain, surrendering your comfort instead—so even as your body twitched and flinched on reflex at times—it didn’t feel as bad anymore.
Succumbing to the motions, you hollowed out your cheeks around his cock, creating a delicious seal around his shaft. His fingers clawed against your skull now, his nails digging in hard enough to break skin. He liked that. Kenjaku pulled your head back and forth, beginning to saw into you with increasing abandon. Tears poked through your eyes as he did so—but not so much from the rough handling—rather from the sparks and shocks you tried to ignore.
It was then, suddenly, that his body tightened and his whole form grew stiff. A sharp gasp that left his lips, moving his hands from the curve of your scalp to the soft press of your cheeks, holding your head in between his palms as he left behind the need for your compliance—surrendering to a will of his own—starting to roughly fuck into your throat. You could barely keep up with him as he rutted into your mouth; your face melting into a mess that looked all warm and flushed, your eyes no longer holding onto tears—until finally—finally—he stuttered.
Slamming forward one last time, he plunged in deep, filling your mouth with an almost violent release. A flooding sensation of warmth filled your throat, rising to your mouth as he held you there. His cock twitched involuntarily as he was determined to empty himself fully into you, but was forgiving with you if you missed a little bit or if it had spilt free. You did an incredible job, after all, going as far as to swallow without ever once being asked to do so.
Then, pulling back from you at last, Kenjaku slid out, watching in rapt fascination as you blinked up towards him, making delicious eye contact, sat all obediently and waiting for his next move. He loved how submissive you looked then—even if you were, for the most part, a little infuriating shit most of the time.
“Did I do good?” you asked sleepily.
His hold on you gentled as he regarded you with satisfaction glinting in his eyes, a hint of fondness lurking in the depths. “You did,” he praised. “I might just have to keep you around for a bit longer then, hm?”
That was all it took for the brattiness to kick in. You couldn’t help yourself, especially as soon as he started to untie you from the lights. “Aw, really? Wish I could say the same,” you dramatically sighed, pressing the back of your hand against your forehead once it was free. “I was pretty bored the whole time,” you were sure to add, emphasising your complaint with a yawn.
Something in his face ticked: his eyes twitched, his jaw flexed, but not out of anger. “Oh, really?” he asked.
You nodded, languidly stretching out your arms. “Oh, yeah. You’re just missing out on my full potential if you keep me all tied up, contained, and useless.”
Kenjaku half-scoffed at your words, a huff of air leaving his nostrils, but he gave in to them, leaning over you ever so slightly before pushing you into the mattress, your back flattening over the soft surface. “Do tell,” he enquired, his hair falling over your face. “I could go for a round two if you’re still feeling… energetic?”
But then—much to his annoyance—you yawned, and your eyes fluttered shut. “Later,” you said, curling over to your side as you pulled the blanket back up. “I need more sleep, you know.”
He pulled back away from you and took a deep breath of resignation before settling down with you. You were infuriating, yes, maddening most of the time, but it was also nice to have a strange thing like you around, because you made everything all the more fun too.
And so, he found himself drawn closer to you, closing his eyes as well.
Although with a promise, he softly added. “You have until I wake up, then we’re going for more.”
You pretended to ignore him, but truth being told?
You couldn’t wait.
Chapter 4: Cold Hands — Kento Nanami
Summary:
You were prone to being cold during the winter whereas Nanami was on the warmer side. A compromise is made.
Notes:
just some touching with a couple dynamics vibe; nothing too graphic for today because i wanted to play on nanami’s sweet side 🩷
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Despite being all bundled up in many layers and almost suffocating warmth, you still shivered beneath it all. Your face was flushed from the snow, and your eyelashes were crisply coated in hardening ice, leaving you trembling as you walked.
Kento was quick to rush to your side from the moment he noticed your distress, his hands coming to cover yours with his own. He spoke softly as he addressed you, his warm breath misting in the air. “Still so cold?”
You nodded as your teeth chattered. “I-I c-c-can’t help it…”
Your husband sighed as if in resignation over what he was about to do, placing his hands over the cold exterior of your flesh, thawing what stiff confinement the chill had otherwise driven you to.
“What are you—” you started.
Only to be hushed by his soothing words. “Shh, I’ve got you.”
Slowly, your fingers could curl again, and you could feel his touch melt away the cold that had settled in your very bones. You found yourself clawing around his hand, desperate to interlock your fingers with his own.
“T-this feels nice,” you murmured, stepping a little closer, keen to seek out more of the warmth that radiated from his body.
“Are you eating enough iron?” Kento asked you as you stood before him, slowly warming up. “Stretching enough? Maybe I should take you out to some hotpot? Or…”
However, all you did was shake your head. “I’m just a cold person,” you said, catching his worry before it managed to spiral into anything else. Kento was a cautious person, after all, and even if he was just a mere couple of years older than you, he fretted more than anyone you had ever known. It was sweet most of the time, until he was trying to get you to drink strange and bitter supplements, claiming that they were good for your health.
“Then, if you’ll let me…” he trailed off into a soft murmur, slipping his hands past your scarf and brushing past your shoulders, hissing at the sensation of your skin chilling him down to his core.
“You sure this isn’t too much?” you hesitated, savouring his warmth.
Kento shook his head. “Not for you,” he assured, taking a step closer, opening up his coat and closing it around you to the best of his ability. His hot breath rolled down your skin as he kept you pressed against him, sending warm shivers all across.
“Good, because I feel a whole lot better now,” you smiled.
Your husband mirrored the way your lips widened, his own curving against your neck, and his nose twitching somewhat as he did so. You could feel as his fingers twitched and tightened, a little quirk that he demonstrated whenever you told him something that he liked to hear.
Then, unable to resist leaning in even further, thinking that the moment felt just right, that you looked all perfect like this—trusting, warm because of him, reliant and full of equal want—that he allowed himself to explore based on how you reacted.
“Maybe fewer winter walks, though,” he murmured, pulling back ever so slightly, “I would hate for you to become sick.”
“But you love the cold,” you said.
“Oh, but I love you even more,” he replied, tightening his arms around you once more, “and I’d much rather find different things to do with you than to walk around in the cold all alone.”
You smiled at his words and leaned into him more, unable to deny that he was as alluring as ever when he talked about compromise—about finding ways to love you in ways that always included you. Then, in addition to you thawing in his embrace, the more bold—the more heated his touches grew—even in a place like this: outside, as that wasn’t something he would typically indulge in.
“You’re so warm,” you stated, reveling in the warmth of his skin. His flesh almost felt intoxicating, leaving you drunk off the heat he was emitting.
“Then, it’s in your best interest for this to continue, isn’t it?” he teased the best he could, moving his hands further in and cupping the swell of your breast, albeit finding it torturous to some extent, what with how restrictive the fabric was.
“Mm, that’s a good idea,” you agreed.
“Though,” he added, his own face flushing at the thought, his body temperature rising as all the blood rushed elsewhere. “I really should… get you home, shouldn’t I? That way I can warm you up properly.”
“Oh?” you caught on.
He didn’t reply right away, but he fixed you with a certain sort of look that showed that he was trying to be enticing. Kento wasn’t one for dominance or control, but something about you needing him so badly for you to warm him up woke something inside of him.
“I-I mean,” he stammered, “I might have some ideas.”
“I’d love that,” you gave in, immediately understanding what he was up to. “You’re going to need to warm me up completely, huh? Maybe put your hands on me?”
“Exactly, I’ll need to reach everywhere,” he nodded, although that time the anticipation he must have felt got the better of him, his voice turning strained, cracking with want. “I’ll… make sure you feel good.”
He then began to lead you home, keen on giving you just what you needed.
Ready to touch you in all the ways he thought you deserved to be.
Notes:
i once heard the phrase “get your icy mitts away from my oven tits” and now we get to swap that around
Chapter 5: Mistletoe — Naoya Zenin
Summary:
You kissed Naoya under the mistletoe during a party, to which he demanded a follow up from.
Notes:
yeah again, naoya and kenjaku are my only grey zone warnings here. he’s creepy here and kind of entitled but the reader has the full control in how it goes. bit possessive towards the end, but i primarily write yandere so i couldn’t help that. 😮💨
included: this one is porn with plot for the build up, dominant reader, verbal humiliation, male masturbation, the chemistry is there but you’re both difficult about it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
You weren’t supposed to even be here.
Or at least, that’s what Naoya couldn’t help but think to himself as his eyes settled on you from across the room as you—in contrast to his focus—not once gave him even a single look.
Personally speaking, he wasn’t one for winter parties, let alone to this caliber. He disliked crowded spaces and being around people that he had to pretend to care about for the sake of clan politics, but he tampered it down, reminding himself that it was all only temporary.
Even if time did seem to slow whenever you were around.
You never paid much heed to the entitled son of the Zenin clan, telling yourself that he wasn’t worth your time or the trouble, so personally, you never interacted with him much. Naoya on the other hand, wasn’t able to ignore you so easily, no matter how much he tried. He found himself drawn to the way you moved and the way you talked.
Even if he would never admit to you—nor anyone—that a woman would have such an effect on him.
Eventually, however, he found himself drawn to you yet again.
Moving without realising.
A shudder ran through you as you felt an unwelcome presence creep up behind you, so you turned and spotted Naoya looming over you, his eyes narrowed and staring with accusation, as though you had done something wrong.
“…Yes?” you asked carefully, hoping that this interaction would be brief.
Naoya turned away from you, his jaw ticking as he did. His expression tightened as he looked back a moment later, as though wrestling with the very concept of speaking to you.
But before either of you could get a word in, someone nearby shouted a word that filled you both with sudden dread.
“Mistletoe!”
Your eyes drifted above you, blinking at the ceiling.
Oh great.
“Yeah, whatever,” you shrugged, lifting yourself to your tiptoes and getting ready to pluck him a kiss out of pure spite.
Naoya meanwhile went entirely rigid from the progression of events, as if the very idea of being kissed by you would have been somehow insulting but also beneath him. He leaned in, mechanically, cursing under his breath as he succumbed to the humiliation, but couldn’t quite deny that he felt something from the moment your lips brushed against his.
Even if it had been just a quick nip.
For you, it was no more than a transaction.
It wasn’t like you wanted to go to this party either, but alas, clan politics were not fair to you both.
By the time you had pulled away, Naoya still hadn’t gotten a word in with you. He was back to staring, with a greater intensity than before, as if he were picking apart the moment. He didn’t like how you didn’t recoil from the kiss, giving him something like that so casually.
It sparked something within him that he wasn’t quite ready to confront.
But… it was always like that with you.
Soon enough, the party moved on and so did you, but not quite for him. The music dragged on through the night and people started to leave. When it was down to a handful at most, you were among the last few to have left.
You felt his eyes still on you even as you exited the premises, but you didn’t think about it too much until you just about nearly walked into him.
You paused, casting him a look with your brows knitted together, as if you couldn’t make sense of what he was doing.
“What do you want?” you asked in an unkind tone; the time for forced politeness was over, after all.
“Did that kiss mean anything to you?” he began.
You blinked, stunned to find that he was serious.
You inhaled slowly. “…Should it have?”
Frustratingly enough, he didn’t answer. All he did was look at you in that entitled way, as if expecting you to be able to read his mind.
You let out a small awkward laugh, thinking that he must have been pulling your leg. There was simply no way that the kiss was anything deeper than a dare.
“I mean, it wasn’t anything serious,” you replied. “We don’t even like each other, so… just take the silly kiss and forget about it? I know I already have.”
He stared at you.
Then after a hot beat, you added, “And it sure as hell isn’t happening again.”
Although, maybe you shouldn’t have said that, because it seemed to have set something off in him.
“Why not?” Naoya let slip, his voice firm and angry, as if you managed to offend him somehow.
“I just said why,” you scoffed. “I don’t like you and you don’t like me. Let’s just leave it at that and both go home.”
He snorted. “I never said that.”
Which to an extent, was true: technically he never did say that, but the way he always interacted with you in a forced manner left you with the impression that he didn’t like you. In all of the years that you had known him, he never went beyond a reluctant acquaintance that you couldn’t shake off. Nothing about him, however, had ever hinted anything but pure indifference towards you.
Just in case he had gotten the wrong impression, somehow, you tried to shut him down before any more ideas entered his mind. “Look, Naoya… you’re not easy to read,” you admitted, choosing your words carefully as to not lead him on further, if that’s what this was all about, “and I don’t like people who are arrogant and rude, which I hate to break to you, but you are.”
He scoffed at your words but didn’t deny them, taking a step closer to you. You could smell the booze that clung to his skin.
“How much have you had to drink?” you asked, although you couldn’t say much. You weren’t exactly the pinnacle of sobriety either.
“I had to pass through those three hours somehow,” he replied.
You nodded slowly as your mind tried to wrap itself around what the point of this whole charade must have been.
“Okay, but… Naoya… are you trying to… flirt with me?” you flat out asked. “Because please, stop. It’s disturbing.”
A sharper breath left his throat that time, but he didn’t stay where he was like you hoped he would. Instead, he walked you back a step or two, until your back brushed with the coarse brick wall behind you.
“You’re being creepy,” you stated.
Then, ignoring your comment, Naoya leaned in and his voice dropped into something lower and softer in a way that made your skin crawl as his words dragged, “Don’t you want to defy me even more?”
Your breath hitched and but weren’t scared, if anything, you were just… profoundly overwhelmed from the sheer absurdity over what was happening.
“Very funny,” you turned your nose to him, “but you’re going to have to knock whatever… this is… that you’re doing, the hell off.”
He tried again. “I like it when you talk back to me.”
Your lips parted as you looked for an insult.
Which he mistook as you being flustered.
“Don’t you want to put me in my place just this once?” he murmured.
That was it.
You burst out laughing.
Naoya recoiled slightly and he pulled back to look away from you, as if your actions had scalded him. When he turned back, he didn’t look so pleased.
“What’s so damn funny?” he demanded.
“What the hell are you doing?” you continued, trying to catch your breath. “Don’t you want to put me in my place?” you repeated his words, bursting out into a fit of laughter immediately after. “Goodness, Naoya. You should hear yourself sometimes.”
He stepped back a little, giving you some space.
“I’m being serious,” he muttered, sounding annoyed.
You forced yourself to stop laughing. “No way. Really?”
He didn’t say anything, just staring at you in a way that implied that he was.
You stared back, then sighed so deeply that it almost hurt. If he wanted you to mess with him, then you could, but you wouldn’t ever give him anything real. A kiss you could repeat, maybe you could tease him a little—just with words—but you wouldn’t ever give him any real satisfaction.
Moving closer, Naoya stiffened as you took the reins and gave into his idea. He remained completely rigid as you stepped in front of him, pushing him up to the wall instead and leaned closer into his personal space. Then, before he could say anything else, you pressed a spiteful, if not mocking kiss against his lips. It would mean nothing to you, but for someone as serious as the long entitled brat of the Zenin clan, you knew that it would stir something up in him.
And just as your lips met with his own, he had the audacity to melt into it. His hands found your hips without warning, his fingers digging into the soft give of your thighs as he hummed out a hungry sound into your mouth that made your stomach churn.
“Oh no you don’t,” you said, pulling back just far enough to speak before his touch could roam any further. “Get your hands off of me”
Naoya stumbled back slightly, his tone implying that he wasn’t used to rejection. “What?”
You stared at him. “You’ll ask nicely if you want anything like that. Or better yet, you’ll grovel.”
His eyes immediately narrowed, a fierce scowl settling over his face. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
You smiled sweetly and tucked your hands briefly behind your back, batting up to meet his angry expression with a look that made his knees go weak.
“Weren’t you the one talking about me putting you in your place just now?” you pointed out.
“Fucking shit,” he groaned, the sound coming from somewhere deep within his chest and aching on his tongue. He leaned the back of his head against the wall, his eyes squeezing shut as if the whole interaction had physically pained him, even if he was the one who initiated it. “Fine,” he bitterly muttered. “Fine. I’m begging you. Please, oh mighty one, let me touch you.”
You half-laughed, half-scoffed at his weak attempt. “Wow, you look so mad.”
“Maybe because I am mad,” he snapped, running his hands through his hair and curling his fingers at the roots. “Fuck, I’m making myself look like a little bitch for you here and you’re giving me nothing.”
You raised your forefinger to your lips and tilted your head. “You’re acting like I want this at all, Naoya. It’s all on you. So either grovel… or I’m going home.”
His lips sank into a frown.
“Fine,” he spat. “Please may I have the honour of touching you? I’m not worthy of anything without your permission.”
Then, after a pause, “Happy now?” he bitterly asked.
“Aw Naoya,” you shook your head dramatically, tutting to yourself a couple of times. “How am I supposed to take you seriously if you can’t even do as you’re told? You really think I’m going to let you put your hands on my body if you can’t even follow through on your own demands?”
He hummed in consideration. “I’m still here, aren’t I? Is that not humiliating enough?”
You mirrored the sound he made, taking his words into consideration before nodding slowly, an idea already forming in your mind.
“That’s so true,” you acknowledged, your voice taking on an almost smug edge. “You are still here and that is indeed humiliating, but…”
“But…?” he repeated.
“I’ll tell you what,” you said cheerfully, somehow managing to fill him with unease, “I will allow you the small mercy of being allowed to touch yourself while looking at me.”
Naoya could only blink. “What?”
You shrugged at his stunned response. “Pretty boy like you,” you purred, tweezing his chin in between your fingers, nodding him down so that his eyes locked with yours. “I’ll let you get away with touching yourself while you get to look at me. Maybe if you’re capable of simple instructions, then I’ll let you touch me elsewhere, but it’ll be up to me as to where.”
“How’s that a reward at all?” he asked. “I can get myself off whenever I please, so what’s so special about me doing it now?”
“Because,” you started, lowering your voice to match the very same tone he tried talking to you with before, “you’ll be looking at me, silly. You’ll be all pathetic and aroused which will probably be enough. I mean…” you paused, realising something as you spoke it out loud. “You’re only being like this because you must be into me, right? You said you don’t dislike me. So it’s your words not mine.”
Naoya tried to counter your point but couldn’t come up with anything right away.
“So either admit that or do as you’re told.”
At that, he went quiet altogether; his lips parting on and off as he grappled with himself over what to say in response to something like that. Then, much to your surprise, he slid his hand down his clothes, giving into your demand. His fingers quickly found his cock as he did and he let out a sharp hiss from how cold his palm was against his hot flesh. His thumb started to idly stroke around the head as he brought himself into a state of arousal.
“Infuriating woman…” he finally managed, although keeping quiet about what he was otherwise reducing himself to, although he seemed unable to hide the faint blush that crept up his neck, turning his ears, cheeks and nose red.
“Wow,” you said softly, although there was no real warmth behind your words, playing it off as an exaggerated reaction. “You’re really into this, huh? I mean… I never had you down as a masochist, but given the type of man that you are, I suppose it all makes sense.”
“Don’t read too much into it,” he defended himself. “It’s just cold.”
You hummed. “You sure you’re not just turned on?”
Naoya didn’t reply to you as he grew to full hardness, staring at you with a charged look glinting in his eyes.
“Bet you’re so close to creaming your pants already,” you teased him a little, making direct eye contact with him as his face reddened even further. “Is this all it takes for you, Naoya? A girl who’s not that into you, telling you what to do? That’s… kind of sad, I have to admit. I always thought that you’d be the fake dominant type that would throw tantrums in the bedroom.”
Though that much seemed to get a rise out of him—his arousal shifting from hunger to anger. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he warned. “You don’t know the first thing I could do to you. I could ruin your life right now and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.”
“Could you though?” you challenged with the tilt of your head, your eyes flicking briefly to the way his hand furiously worked beneath his clothes. “Or are you just all talk? I mean, Naoya, please. Let me remind you. I’m not the one with my hand down my pants all because a girl told me to admit liking her or touch myself if that was too much to do.”
Before he could reply again, you grew all the more confident then, perhaps getting ahead of yourself as you played too far into the part.
You couldn’t have known that what you were doing was already pushing him past his limit.
Both sexually and mentally.
“And because I’m being so kind and letting you get away with doing just that,” you continued, “maybe I could let you hit?”
His eyes lit up as an entitled look washed over him, thinking that he had somehow won you over.
You pressed on, taking advantage of his hope.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you teased. “Only on one condition though. It’ll have to be live-streamed and my identity will be masked. Just mine though. I’d want the internet to watch you grovel twice as hard before you’re allowed to even put it in me.”
He scoffed. “You’re a crazy bitch,” he blurted out, but by this point, the grip around his shaft was so tight that he had to bite back a moan as he got off to your words. He didn’t mention it then, but he could see it in your eyes as you spoke about what you did—that you were getting some thrill—some enjoyment or maybe even pleasure out of all of this.
Noticing the way he seemed frustrated, you riled him up just a little bit more.
“Don’t tell me you’re into that kind of thing, Naoya…?”
Before he could help it, a stifled noise escaped his lips, unable to hide the desperation that surfaced. “Wait, fuck—“
“Oh? Did you almost give into grovelling just now?” you almost praised him. “That was… something! But not quite. That’s what we call whining, silly. Let’s try again. Tell me you’re sorry for being a sexist asshole and make sure to sound like you really mean it too.”
His hands trembled as his length felt slicker by the second, just a second or two away from making a mess right. george you. He was so close—too close—and then—his body went rigid—his motions becoming frantically erratic, but also humiliatingly obvious to your watching eyes.
“…Sorry,” he strained out, right at the verge of losing himself before another sound left his lips, reducing him to a shuddering, gasping mess. He seemed visibly relieved then, even if the sensation of his cum seeping into his clothes was especially uncomfortable in the cold weather.
“That’s it?” you frowned, feeling disappointed that you couldn’t actually get a real apology out of him. “God, I feel bad for whoever is in line to be your bride, there’s truly nobody as patient as I am for someone as pathetic as you.”
His hand stilled even his hand remained wrapped around his now softening length and he tried to deflect whatever you were saying, but reluctantly, he allowed whatever little vulnerability he had within him to surface. An even deeper blush settled on his skin and a sentence that you never expected to hear—especially spoken from his lips—dribbled out, low and quiet and soft.
“Unless you want to join me?”
Still thinking that this was all part of the bit, however, you threw your head back and laughed right in his face. “Oh, no, no, no way,” you replied, unable to keep your mouth shut. “Not a chance in hell!”
Although something about your reaction seemed to flip a switch in him—again—as his body tensed up. Away went the fleeting glimpse of vulnerability and in came the pent up anger from reducing himself to whatever he had just become for the brief moment he shared with you. For a moment, he thought that his arousal might come back in full swing right away, but something deeper surfaced that felt equally unfamiliar but just as pressing.
“You’re infuriating,” he repeated himself from the last time, stepping closer, prompting you to take an instinctive step back from the suddenly changed atmosphere.
Did you push him too far?
Before you could tease him further or ask him what he was doing, however, his other hand shot out and grabbed your wrist tightly, pulling you close against his body.
“Nobody is to know that this happened,” he warned, feeling more like himself again.
You blinked. “Yeah, no shit?”
“Nobody,” he repeated himself, drilling the threat into you one way or another. “This—what just happened—we won’t ever talk about this ever again. You got that?”
“Or what?” you asked, still unable to take him too seriously.
He tightened his hold on you to the point of pain before gentling his grip, if only to remind you of his strength.
“Or there will be consequences,” he promised.
You gulped. “You’re being ridiculous,” you murmured softly, trying to assure him that this would be more embarrassing for you than it would be for him if this ever surfaced. “I mean, even if I did bring it up, you’d just turn into a whiny mess all over again, wouldn’t you?”
“I mean it,” he repeated himself.
You smiled at that, realising that he was still being as desperate as before, even if he did claim to be in control now, but didn’t press the issue further.
“Of course, Naoya,” you said, adjusting your voice into something more neutral. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He finally let you go and even stayed behind as he watched you finally leave.
But what happened just now did little to soothe his ache.
For now he wanted you even more than before.
Notes:
next up we will be riding toji
AleBr on Chapter 5 Sun 14 Dec 2025 12:08PM UTC
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lilac_quartz on Chapter 5 Sun 14 Dec 2025 01:49PM UTC
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