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You hadn’t married Naoya Zenin because he was a good man.
You married him because he was useful. Power, protection, silk-lined rooms where nothing ever went unanswered. Granted, he never let you want for anything, not jewels, not gowns nor money, not blood when someone crossed you. He was a misogynistic curse wrapped in pedigree and arrogance, and you’d recognized the breed immediately.
And instead of flinching, you bit back.
Somehow, that had fascinated him.
You were everything Naoya claimed women shouldn't be: sharp-tongued, willful, unyielding. You didn’t soften him—God, no—but you redirected the worst of him, aimed it outward like a blade you kept polished. You hated men with the same fervor he hated women, and in that mutual disdain you found rhythm. He never knew if you’d kiss him or cut him with a sentence, and the uncertainty left him drunk on you. Really, it was a blessing to the rest of the world you had found each other.
Marriage hadn’t dulled it. If anything, it sharpened the edges.
Now there was a ring on your finger, a Zenin name stitched into your spine, and a child growing heavy beneath your ribs—an irony that wasn't wasted on either of you. Naoya was intoxicated by it. By you. By the fact that you’d chosen him not out of obedience, but appetite.
Which was why the last time you saw your favorite fish-shaped soy sauce dispenser, it was hurling toward his head with lethal precision as servants scurried out of the room.
“You absolute fuck,” you hissed, one hand cradling your swollen belly. “Tell me again how my cravings are ‘excessive’ when you’re the one who ate my entire stash of pickled plums?”
Naoya barely dodged, the ceramic fish shattering against the kitchen wall. Soy sauce splattered like ink. His smirk didn’t waver.
“Pregnancy suits you,” he said mildly, stepping over the wreckage toward you. “Your aim’s gotten sharper.”
His fingers brushed your hip, lingering where your dress strained against new curves—possessive, unapologetic. You swatted his hand away, even as heat crept up your neck.
“Don’t,” you snapped. “I’m still pissed.”
The words lacked conviction. He heard it immediately.
Naoya laughed, low and pleased, crowding you back against the counter. His palm settled warm and familiar over your belly, where something small kicked in response—already restless, already stubborn.
The kitchen smelled like soy sauce and the ginger tea you’d been nursing all morning. Naoya leaned in, inhaling near your temple like your irritation was something he could savor.
“I’ll buy you more plums,” he murmured, lips grazing your ear. “And those seaweed crackers you threw at the cashier yesterday.”
You scoffed, even as you let him stay close. God help anyone who thought this marriage was a mistake.
"You’re missing the point," you muttered, but your fingers were already twisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. His body was solid against yours, familiar and grounding, even when the world tilted with hormones and cravings. You bit his lower lip—half punishment, half plea—and he groaned into your mouth, hands sliding up to cradle your face.
His thigh pressed between yours, and you arched into him with a gasp, the counter’s edge digging into your back. "Someone’s eager," he teased, nipping at your jaw. "You sure it's just cravings driving you wild? Or are you horny again? Want me to make my darling wife feel better?"
You hooked a leg around his hip, relishing the way his breath hitched. "Shut up and kiss me properly." The words dissolved into a moan as his mouth crashed against yours, hungry and claiming. His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make your pulse spike. The baby kicked again, a sharp flutter beneath his palm, and Naoya broke away with a laugh that was more growl than amusement. "Feisty little thing. Takes after you."
The grocery bags rustled violently as you shoved them off the counter with your elbow. Glass jars clattered to the floor— a servant could worry about that later. Right now, Naoya’s teeth on your collarbone and his hands squeezing your thighs were the only things that mattered. You raked your nails down his back, grinning when he cursed into your skin.
His fingers found the hem of your dress, hiking it up just as the front door creaked open. "Oh, my apologies —" a servant's voice cut through the heated moment before retreating with frantic footsteps. You froze, lips swollen and chest heaving, while Naoya's smirk returned tenfold. "Seems like we're scandalizing the staff again," he murmured against your throat, not bothering to stop his hands from roaming.
"You're insufferable," you gasped, but the way your hips rolled against his thigh betrayed your words. Naoya's mouth trailed lower, teeth grazing the sensitive swell of your milk heavy breast where your dress had slipped. A needy whine escaped you — damn hormones, damn him for knowing exactly how to unravel you.
The servant's retreating footsteps still echoed down the hall when Naoya abruptly lifted you onto the counter, his hands were already under your dress, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your panties. "You were saying?" he taunted, mouth hovering just above yours, close enough to taste your uneven breaths.
A shudder ran through you as his thumb circled your clit—slow, deliberate strokes that made your thighs tremble. "Asshole," you choked out, gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave crescent marks through his shirt. The cool air from the broken kitchen window ghosted over your damp skin, a sharp contrast to the heat pooling low in your belly.
Naoya’s chuckle was dark, pleased. "Liar." He pressed his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours as his fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance. "You love it." The stretch burned just enough to make you arch, your nails scraping down his back as he worked you open with torturous patience. The counter dug into your thighs, the edge biting, but the pain only sharpened the pleasure coiling tighter inside you.
His thumb circled your clit faster, his other hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "Look at you," he murmured, voice rough. "Soaked just from this. Imagine how hard you’ll cum on my cock." The crude promise sent a shiver through you, your thighs clamping around his wrist instinctively.
You barely had time to gasp before his fingers plunged deeper, curling just right to make your back arch off the counter as he stepped closer, crowding you against the cabinets. "Naoya—" His name tore from your throat as his teeth sank into your shoulder, the sharp sting mingling with the relentless press of his fingers. The baby kicked violently, as if protesting the sudden spike in your pulse, but all you could focus on was the coil of pleasure tightening mercilessly low in your belly.
The front door slammed shut somewhere in the house—finally, privacy—and Naoya took full advantage, ripping your panties aside with a careless tug. The fabric snapped, but his mouth was already between your thighs, tongue laving a hot stripe up your slit before sealing over your clit. You cried out, fingers fisting in his hair as he sucked and lapped relentlessly.
"You taste even sweeter pregnant," he growled against your skin, the vibration shooting straight to your core. His tongue delved deeper, curling just the way you liked, and your thighs trembled around his head. The baby kicked again, a sharp jab near your ribs, but the discomfort melted under the onslaught of pleasure. Naoya’s fingers dug into your ass, tilting you harder against his mouth, and you sobbed, overstimulated and desperate.
His chuckle was dark, muffled against your soaked folds. "Could get addicted to this—round belly, your tits heavy thanks to me," he murmured, pulling back just enough to watch your reaction as his fingers replaced his tongue. "Wanna keep you like this forever. Full of me." The crude promise sent heat flaring across your skin, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. He smirked, pressing closer. "Already thinking about the next one, aren’t you? I can feel how tight you clench around my fingers"
You gasped as his free hand palmed your swollen stomach possessively. "Gonna breed you until this house overflows with our brats," he growled, lips brushing your inner thigh. His teeth grazed sensitive skin—not hard enough to mark, but enough to make your hips jerk. "Watch you waddle around all soft and fucked-out, belly round with another kid before the first even walks." The image shouldn’t have sent liquid heat pooling between your thighs, but your body betrayed you, clenching around his thrusting fingers.
Naoya laughed—a low, filthy sound—when you moaned. "Knew you’d love that," he murmured, dragging his tongue along your folds again just to feel you shudder. "Imagine it—your tits leaking while I fuck another baby into you." His thumb pressed harder against your clit, circling in time with the sinful words. "Gonna keep you full of me until you forget what it feels like to be empty."
You whimpered, thighs quivering around his head as his tongue delved deeper, lapping up every drop. The counter dug into your back, but the pain was distant, drowned out by the heat coiling tighter in your belly. "Naoya—" His name cracked in your throat as his teeth grazed your clit, the sharp sting making your hips jerk. "Fuck—yes—"
"Already so close," he murmured against your soaked folds, lips brushing your swollen skin with each word. "Just from my mouth. Pathetic." His fingers curled inside you, pressing against that sweet spot that made your vision blur. "Gonna keep you like this—always wet, always full." His thumb circled your clit faster, matching the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. "Next time I knock you up, it’ll be twins."
The vulgar promise tipped you over the edge. Your back arched off the counter as pleasure crashed through you, sharp and consuming. Naoya didn't let up, his tongue lapping at your oversensitive clit until your thighs clamped around his head, trapping him there as you trembled through the aftershocks.
When you finally sagged against the cabinets, breathless and boneless, he rose with a self-satisfied smirk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Messy," he taunted, licking his lips deliberately. The sight of his damp chin, the way his pupils were blown wide with lust—it coiled the heat low in your belly again despite your exhaustion.
The kitchen was in shambles: shattered ceramics, spilled groceries. Naoya didn't seem to care, stepping over the wreckage to cage you against the counter again. His erection pressed insistently against your thigh, and you rolled your hips instinctively, drawing a ragged groan from him. "Greedy," he accused, nipping at your jaw. "Thought I just wore you out."
You hooked your fingers in his belt, tugging impatiently. "Don't flatter yourself." The retort lost its edge when he ground against you, the friction drawing a moan from your throat. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly until your legs wrapped around his waist. The counter's edge dug into your back, but the discomfort was secondary to the heat of his body, the way his breath hitched when you raked your nails down his chest. He lifted you fully onto the counter. With one hand, he unbuckled his belt, your breath hitched as he freed himself, thick and flushed, pressing against your slick entrance. "Still pissed about the plums?" he taunted, dragging his tip through your folds, slow and maddening.
You grabbed his jaw, forcing his gaze to yours. "Stop teasing," you snarled, nails biting into his skin. "Fuck me good, Naoya." The demand ripped from your throat, raw and needy. Naoya's smirk vanished, replaced by something feral. He gripped your thighs, yanking you to the very edge of the counter, and slammed into you with a groan. The stretch burned—he was relentless, no gentleness left—and you arched into it, nails scraping down his back.
Naoya's thrusts knocked more groceries off the counter—a bag of rice split open, grains scattering across the tiles. "Fuck," he growled, one hand fisting your hair to tilt your head back. "Taking me so deep." His thumb pressed against your swollen stomach.
His mouth crashed onto yours, swallowing your moans before trailing lower, teeth scraping down your throat. When his lips closed around one taut nipple, you gasped, back arching off the counter. He sucked hard, tongue circling the sensitive peak until milk beaded at the tip. The sensation was electric—too much and not enough—your hips jerking against his with every pull of his mouth. "Fuck," you whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair.
Naoya groaned against your skin, the vibration shooting straight to your core. He drank greedily, one hand kneading your other breast as he worked you with his mouth. The sweet ache of relief mixed with the filthy pleasure of his tongue lapping at your leaking nipple. "So fucking sweet," he growled, switching sides without breaking rhythm. Your milk glistened on his chin when he pulled back, pupils blown wide.
You gasped when he twisted your nipple between his fingers, sending another trickle down your flushed skin. Naoya caught it with his tongue, dragging the flat of it up your chest in a slow, deliberate stroke that made your thighs tremble. The baby kicked violently beneath his palm—a sharp protest—but he only smirked and pressed down harder. "Little shit's jealous," he murmured before sealing his lips over your nipple again.
The suction pulled a ragged moan from your throat. Your hips jerked against his, desperate for friction, but Naoya kept his thrusts slow and deep, denying you the pace you craved. Every drag of his cock inside you burned just right, stretching you full in a way that made your toes curl. "Naoya—" His name shattered into a whine when he bit down lightly on your nipple.
"Where's that smart mouth gone?" he snarled, tilting your body to watch himself slide in and out of you, slick and obscene. "So fucking greedy—taking me like you’re not already full." His thumb pressed against your clit in rough circles, the pressure just shy of painful.
"Tell me what you need babygirl." His hips rolled, grinding deeper, the head of his cock pressing against that spot inside that made your vision flicker. The stretch was unbearable—perfect. You clawed at his shoulders, nails biting through his ruined shirt.
"Need you to—ah—fuck me stupid, make me cum." you gasped, arching when his thumb found your clit again. The rough pad circled mercilessly, dragging you closer to the edge with every stroke. Naoya laughed, low and dark, his breath hot against your ear. "Already halfway there, sweetheart." His teeth scraped your earlobe, the sting sharpening the pleasure coiling tighter in your belly.
"You gonna cum on my cock like this?" he murmured, lips brushing your throat as his hips snapped forward, driving deeper. "All swollen with my kid, tits leaking?" The filthy words sent a shudder through you, your walls fluttering around him. Naoya groaned, his grip tightening on your hips. "Fuck—squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go. Greedy little thing."
His thumb pressed harder against your clit, circling in time with his thrusts, and you arched off the counter with a cry.
"Come on, sweetheart," Naoya growled against your throat, his breath scalding. "Let go for me." His fingers dug into your hips, guiding your movements as he fucked up into you with relentless precision. Every snap of his hips sent shockwaves through your oversensitive body, the friction of his cock dragging against your inner walls just right. Your thighs trembled around him, toes curling against the small of his back as pleasure coiled tighter, unbearable.
His thumb pressed harder against your clit, circling in tight, filthy strokes that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. "That's it," he murmured, lips brushing your ear. "Gonna milk my cock just like this when I fill you up again." The vulgar promise tipped you over the edge—your back arched off the counter as white-hot ecstasy ripped through you, your nails scoring deep red lines down his shoulders. Naoya didn't relent, fucking you through your orgasm with brutal efficiency, his groan rough against your skin as your walls clenched around him.
"Fuck—keep squeezing me like that," he growled, hips stuttering. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips leaving bruises as he chased his own release. You whimpered, oversensitive and pliant beneath him, but he didn't slow—just dragged his tongue up your throat and bit down hard on your pulse point. The sharp pain mingled with the aftershocks, drawing another broken cry from your lips as he pistoned into you with reckless abandon.
His rhythm faltered when your nails raked down his back, his breath hitching against your damp skin. "Gonna fill you up so deep—" His voice cracked as he bottomed out inside you, his cock twitching as hot spurts of cum flooded your cunt. You gasped at the sudden warmth, your body still fluttering weakly around him, milking every last drop. Naoya groaned, forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged against your lips.
Naoya's hands trembled slightly where they gripped your hips, his usual composure shattered. You smirked, dragging a lazy finger through the mess on his collarbone. "Tired already?" you teased, voice husky.
He bared his teeth in something between a grin and a snarl, nipping at your swollen bottom lip. "Keep talking and I'll bend you over the dining table next."