Archive of Our Own

Steamed Glass and Silent Grudge

Boruto

Chapter 1 of ?

Hinata Hyuuga

TW: BLACKMAIL AND DUB-CON, DO NOT READ IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

Daiki dragged the toe of his sandal along the dusty path, kicking a pebble with a sharp flick that sent it clattering off the wooden post of a merchant’s stand. He was tall for his age, broad-shouldered, with a lean, wiry build hardened from his academy years. His face held a permanent sneer—twisted by years of festering bitterness. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the streets of Konoha, but Daiki wasn’t heading anywhere in particular. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets, posture slouched, eyes narrowed with an aimless scowl. But then, like fate tugging his feet without thought, he looked up—and there it was. That house. The house. The Uzumaki place.

His jaw clenched tight. That familiar ache of resentment throbbed behind his eyes the moment he saw the front gate. How many times had he fantasized about watching Boruto fall from his pedestal? That golden brat with his stupid grin, his perfect legacy, his fucking perfect family. Naruto, the damn Hokage. Hinata, the soft-spoken goddess every boy once fawned over. And Boruto, the spoiled little prince. Daiki’s fists clenched until his knuckles cracked. "Always showing off. Always acting like he's better than me…" he muttered under his breath.

He moved toward the house without thinking, his anger guiding him. He crept along the side, the fading sun throwing a dapple of shadows across the garden. Then he paused. The side door. Just slightly ajar. A light breeze teased it open a few inches more. He looked around—no movement, no chakra signatures he could sense. Maybe they’d gone out for the day. A mission? A festival? Didn’t matter.

With one last glance over his shoulder, Daiki stepped forward and slipped inside.

The interior was warm and still, bathed in the amber light of the setting sun bleeding through the windows. It felt surreal—walking through their home, the walls lined with family photos, the floor polished and spotless. It made his stomach turn. There was Boruto, grinning wide with his arm slung over Himawari. There was Naruto, standing proudly behind them with Hinata by his side, her hands gently resting on his chest. Daiki’s eyes lingered on that photo longer than he meant to.

Each step he took deeper into the house felt heavier. He padded down the hallway, careful to keep his footsteps silent as if even the creak of a board might summon someone back. The scent of lavender and fresh laundry still lingered in the air. He passed a living room, immaculate and quiet, then a narrow hallway leading to the bedrooms. His heart pounded harder now—not from fear, but from anticipation. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for. Maybe some embarrassing photos. Maybe a hidden drawer of something scandalous . Anything. Anything he could use to drag Boruto and his precious family through the mud.

He paused at the base of the stairs. The second floor loomed above him. It was too quiet. Almost unnaturally so. Daiki listened—held his breath—and heard nothing but the faint hum of a fan running somewhere in the distance.

Daiki crept up the staircase, one careful step at a time, the old wood groaning faintly beneath his weight. He paused after every shift of his foot, ears straining for any hint of movement—any sign that he wasn’t alone. The silence was almost intoxicating, save for that low hum that had followed him since he slipped inside. At first, he’d mistaken it for a fan, but now that he was higher up, closer, he could hear the steady rhythm of water. A hiss. A gentle patter. Running water. From behind one of the doors at the end of the hall.

He smirked to himself, voice low and dripping with crude satisfaction. “No way... You’ve got to be kidding me.” His steps slowed, turning almost predatory now. His fingers dragged along the wall as he approached, breath steady, heart pounding. “Boruto’s mom… what a fuckin’ milf,” he muttered, licking his lips. “Always acting so proper, dressing all modest—bet she’s got the kind of body that could ruin a guy.”

As he neared the slightly ajar bathroom door, a waft of warm, fragrant steam greeted him—thick and floral, laced with a clean, soapy sweetness that made his nose twitch. The soft glow of the bathroom light pooled into the hallway, and there it was: the soft rush of the shower, mist curling out into the open space like lazy tendrils. The air felt hotter here, heavier, as though the house itself was holding its breath.

Daiki leaned in, the edge of the door pressing gently against his knuckles. The frosted glass of the shower blurred the figure within, but not enough to hide the outline. His breath caught in his throat. There—on the other side of that thin, misted pane—was Hinata Uzumaki.

She stood with her back to him, her silhouette bathed in a faint golden hue from the overhead light. The curves were unmistakable—elegant and soft yet full in all the right places. Her long, dark hair was pinned up loosely, tendrils sticking to her neck, and her hands moved gracefully along her body, lathering herself in slow, circular motions. The water coursed over her form in steady streams, beading along the dip of her waist, flowing down the generous swell of her hips, then pooling at her feet in lazy swirls.

His mouth went dry. He could just make out the curve of her ass through the fogged glass, high and round, flexing subtly with her every shift. Her breasts—only shadows in the haze—still managed to hint at their size and heft, the soft outline occasionally pressed to the glass as she turned. His hand reached instinctively into his pocket, but he held back—for now.

Daiki stayed rooted in place, frozen by the sheer surrealism of the moment. The woman every man in the village secretly fantasized about. The graceful, quiet, untouchable Hinata. Right in front of him. Vulnerable. Naked. And utterly unaware.

Daiki inched forward, barely breathing, the floor beneath his soles cool and solid as if grounding him in a moment that felt almost unreal. The closer he got, the clearer she became—her body gradually sharpening through the veil of steam and the frosted glass. Each step revealed more of her silhouette, each wisp of mist that thinned gave him another glimpse of what had always been hidden behind modest clothing and graceful glances. The bathroom was thick with heat, the air clinging to his skin as his fingers curled around the edge of the door, knuckles white with tension.

He hovered just out of her line of sight, crouched slightly, his eyes locked on the divine image in front of him. Hinata’s indigo hair, now soaked and a few shades darker, clung to her back in long strands, some curling around her waist. Beads of water trailed down the pale, creamy expanse of her skin, catching the light as they glided over the slope of her shoulders and the dip of her spine. Her slender waist gave way to wide hips and the perfect curve of her ass, the shape round and tight despite the soft femininity that seemed to radiate from every inch of her.

She shifted—just a little—and Daiki’s breath caught again. Her chest turned slightly toward the shower door, and there they were. Her breasts. Full, impossibly round, swaying gently with her movement. The tips, now fully visible through the glass, were stiff and rosy, the heat of the water drawing them out in pointed defiance. They pressed against the door faintly, soft flesh flattened just enough to tease their weight and plushness. It was like something out of a dream—or a porno wrapped in silk.

Daiki let out a breathy chuckle, more like a sneer, as he stared, his voice low, a rasp under his breath. “Fucking hell ... So this is what the prim and proper princess hides under all those robes.” His lip curled as he whispered, biting back a groan. “Look at those tits… no way she’s not used to turning heads. And that ass… shit. No wonder the Hokage knocked her up twice. Probably begged for it.”

He leaned in just a little more, eyes scanning every inch hungrily. “Pretends to be shy… walks around with that sweet voice and those downcast eyes. Bet she’s the kind of slut that moans like a pornstar the second you grab her hair.” He licked his lips slowly, staring as her fingers slid up over her arms, water cascading off her wrists and dripping down the perfect valley of her cleavage. “Bet she likes it rough. Bet she loves being filled. Tch… fucking goddess and she doesn’t even know it.”

He could feel his heart pounding like a drum in his chest, his pants already tight, heat crawling up his neck as every detail of her body etched itself into his mind.

Daiki’s throat was dry, tongue pressed flat against the roof of his mouth as he stared with wide, ravenous eyes. Every second that passed, the steam thinned just a little more, revealing Hinata's body in tantalizing, fleeting glimpses like a private performance meant only for him. She had turned fully now, rinsing her arms, her chin tilted down modestly—oblivious to the eyes locked on her from the shadows. The curves of her body were nothing short of breathtaking—effortlessly divine. Her breasts… fuck , those breasts. Heavy and full, they bounced gently with her every motion, the droplets of water cascading down them in mesmerizing rivulets before falling from their rounded undercurve. Her nipples, already stiff from the heat, were a perfect, delicate pink—just begging to be sucked between parted lips.

His hand moved before his brain could stop it.

Daiki slipped a hand into his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as he pulled out his phone. The glow of the screen bathed his face in a faint light as he silently tapped the camera open, muting the shutter. His heart hammered in his chest like a war drum. Slowly, deliberately, he raised the phone, angling it just right between the gap in the door and the veil of steam. Click. A low, electric thrill ran down his spine. He took another—closer now—framing her from the hips up as she rinsed beneath the stream, eyes closed, her expression serene, lips slightly parted in a soft sigh he could almost hear. Click. He zoomed in on her breasts, catching the perfect curve of them as they rose and fell with her breath. Click.

"Goddamn…" he murmured to himself, voice barely audible, breath hitching as he leaned in for another shot. “What are those… E-cups? Maybe F? Fuck, they’ve gotta be heavy. Just look at ‘em… ripe, soft… shit, even the water wants to touch every inch of her.”

His gaze trailed down, past the swell of her hips—the perfect hourglass tapering that made her waist look even narrower—down to her thighs, long and smooth and subtly toned. Her stance shifted again, just slightly, revealing more of that ass. Round, firm, yet plush in a way that made his fingers twitch involuntarily. He could see the droplets crawling across the curves, the way they trailed from her lower back, slipping between her cheeks and continuing their descent along the back of her legs.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispered, his voice heavy with lust. “I could trace every drop with my tongue… Wouldn’t even need to breathe.”

His cock strained against his pants now, throbbing with each image burned into his mind. But he didn’t stop watching. Couldn’t. Not when he was finally seeing what he—and probably half of Konoha—had only fantasized about in silence.

Daiki’s breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as he remained hidden in the hallway’s shadowed edge, the steamed glass of the bathroom door faintly glowing from the light inside. The outline of Hinata’s flawless figure remained etched against the translucent barrier, tantalizingly close yet just out of reach. Her silhouette moved slowly, gracefully—like she had all the time in the world. His fingers trembled as they fumbled with the button of his jeans, finally popping it open with a soft click that was drowned out by the steady stream of the shower. He muttered under his breath, heart pounding in his chest. “Fuck… how does he get this every day?” The zipper came down next, agonizingly slow, each tooth slipping past the next as he lowered it, revealing the stiffness already straining against his boxers.

Inside, Hinata tilted her head back, allowing the cascade of warm water to run through her indigo locks, her hands rising in slow, sensual arcs as she reached for the soap again. Her fingers pressed against her chest, soft and tender, working the creamy lather over the generous swell of her breasts. Through the semi-fogged glass, Daiki watched the way her arms lifted and pressed inward, causing her large, supple mounds to squeeze together, droplets of water and bubbles running between the plush curves. She sighed gently, barely audible, but to Daiki it was like a whisper into his soul. His eyes widened, unable to tear themselves away from her delicate fingers gliding in lazy, circular motions across her peaks—sliding over smooth skin, brushing beneath the generous underside, thumbs dragging over what he imagined were pale, perfect nipples stiffened from the heat.

His cock twitched painfully in his grasp as he freed it from his boxers, the cool air brushing against the wet tip already slick with arousal. He wrapped his hand around it, breath catching in his throat as he gave himself a slow, deliberate stroke. The rhythm started tentative, cautious—almost reverent—as he watched Hinata’s hands drift lower, tracing along her toned stomach, before sliding back up again to rinse. She turned slightly, giving him a more defined curve of her hip, and his jaw clenched as the full shape of her ass pressed against the glass for a moment, rounded and firm, perfect droplets sliding along the dip of her back. “Goddamn…” he hissed, almost forgetting

Daiki’s grip tightened as lust overtook what little restraint he had left, his strokes becoming more urgent, rougher, each motion dragging over the thick shaft of his cock with building need. The warmth in his core spread like wildfire, fueled by the hypnotic dance of Hinata’s body under the spray. Her back arched slightly beneath the falling water, indigo hair clinging wetly to her spine as her arms lifted to rinse the lingering soap from her chest. That simple motion sent her breasts lifting, then bouncing softly back into place, the water cascading off their smooth curves like liquid silk. Every movement she made was elegant, unintentional seduction—her nipples now visibly firm through the glass, the suds outlining them just enough for Daiki to imagine their full perfection.

With his free hand, he shakily pulled out his phone, tapping record as he adjusted the angle to capture everything—the subtle arch of her hips, the teasing silhouette of her ass and thighs, the bounce of those magnificent breasts with every motion. He breathed heavily through his nose, doing everything he could to stay silent, though the heat and pressure bubbling in his gut made it harder with every second. “You don’t even know, do you?” he whispered, eyes fixed on the screen. “So fucking perfect… I’d make you scream, Hinata. I’d bury myself between those tits first, then fuck that tight little body until you couldn’t walk.” His voice trembled, barely above a breath, timed with the wet strokes of his hand gliding from base to tip, faster now, slick with precum.

Hinata tilted her face upward, eyes closed as the water ran down her cheeks, lips parted in a peaceful sigh that Daiki twisted in his mind into something erotic—her moaning, breathless beneath him. His knuckles whitened, muscles tensing, hips twitching slightly as he imagined those full lips wrapped around his cock, those breasts pushed up around him while her soft, delicate hands tried to steady herself. His breathing grew ragged, chest heaving in short gasps as he neared his breaking point. “Fuck, Hinata… ngh—fuck, I’m gonna…”

And then it hit. His body seized with a shudder, the first hot jet of release spilling into his palm, thick and fast, followed by another, then another, his cock pulsing as he fought to stay quiet. He pressed his back to the wall, head tilted, eyes still locked on the steamy outline of her perfect form—Hinata still lost in her innocent routine, arms brushing her hair back as she turned slightly, giving him one last, perfect glimpse of her side profile—curved, serene, and completely unaware of the filthy fantasy that had just played out in secret.

Daiki stood there, chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of his climax, hand slick with the remnants of his lust, heart hammering wildly in his chest. But even as the pleasure ebbed, a gnawing hunger twisted deeper inside him. The thrill, the rush, the sheer wrongness of it only made it worse. The video had been good—amazing, even—but not enough. He needed more. Needed to see her, clearly, not just as a silhouette through fogged glass. He wanted the full image burned into his memory: the soft pink of her nipples, the smooth plane of her stomach, the subtle pout of her lower lips glistening with water—details that no screen could ever truly satisfy.

With his phone still clutched tight in one hand and his cock half-hard again in the other, Daiki stepped forward, biting his lip to contain the rush of excitement clawing its way up his throat. Each step was slow, measured, deliberate—his bare feet pressing against the cool tile floor of the hallway as he closed the short distance to the half-ajar bathroom door. The steam curled around him in thick, humid tendrils, filling his lungs with the heady scent of warm water and delicate floral soap. He eased the door open just a little further, the creak masked by the sound of rushing water. Then he stepped inside, heart racing so hard it thudded in his ears louder than the shower itself.

Hinata stood less than a meter away now, back to him, her arms lifted as she combed her fingers slowly through her hair beneath the flow of water. Her body was even more breathtaking up close—pale skin glowing softly under the mist, every curve highlighted by glistening droplets that clung to her like dew on a flower. Her ass was round and high, the faintest shadow tracing the crease where her thighs met her cheeks, and Daiki could just barely see the outline of her mound from this angle, lips nestled softly between creamy thighs. He raised his phone, fingers trembling, lens trained carefully as he began recording once more.

Leaning forward to get a better angle, he couldn’t help but whisper, “So fucking perfect…” But in his eagerness, his foot found a patch of water on the smooth tile—slick and treacherous. His balance faltered in an instant. His heel slid out from under him, arms pinwheeling for a second too long as he stumbled forward, phone clutched tight, crashing directly through the glass shower door with a loud clatter . The world became a blur of steam, the thud of skin on wet porcelain, and the high-pitched gasp of surprise from Hinata—mere inches away now as he landed hard, face-first, against the softest thing imaginable.

The impact was sudden and jarring, shattering the quiet tranquility of the shower like a bomb going off. Daiki’s body collided with Hinata’s in a chaotic tangle of limbs, his phone skittering across the tile with a clack as the steam-filled air was split by her sharp, startled gasp. His face crashed directly into the supple swell of her chest—two perfect, warm pillows that flattened slightly against his features as momentum drove him forward. The softness, the heat, the way her wet skin stuck to his cheeks—it was overwhelming, electric, far more than any fantasy could have prepared him for.

Hinata let out a high, breathless sound, something between a yelp and a shocked moan, arms instinctively flailing as the intrusion registered. Her heart pounded wildly, the shock of another body against hers— a man’s body —sending panic and confusion flooding through her. Her bare breasts, still damp and gleaming with water, now smothered against a stranger's face, the sensation horribly intimate. “Wh-What?! Ah—!” she stammered, her voice cracking under the weight of alarm and mortification.

Daiki, dazed but far from disoriented, instinctively grabbed her hips in an attempt to steady himself. His palms landed firmly on her slick, curving sides, fingers pressing into her damp flesh just above her thighs. The feel of her—so smooth, so unbelievably real—sent a spike of adrenaline shooting through him. Her body was warm and trembling beneath his touch, the faint quiver of her stomach brushing his chest, her thighs tensing as she instinctively tried to pull back but had nowhere to go. His breath hitched against her skin, face still buried in the valley between her breasts, and the soft weight of them rested against his cheeks as water dripped down his temples and along the back of his neck.

Their bodies pressed together with no space between—his chest flush against her bare abdomen, her nipples stiff and brushing against his cheek as she inhaled sharply. The intimacy of the moment, combined with the raw vulnerability of her nudity, sent a flush of crimson across Hinata’s face. Her wide lavender eyes darted downward, taking in the sight of his hands on her bare hips, her body reacting with a heady mix of confusion, shame, and something far more dangerous simmering just beneath the surface.

Hinata’s hands pressed urgently to Daiki’s shoulders, her small palms trembling against his damp skin as she tried to push him away. Her breath came in short, rapid bursts, her chest rising and falling, beads of water cascading down her flushed face. Her heart pounded in her ears, every sense overloaded from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. But as Daiki shifted slightly, lifting his torso off her, her body froze—because something thick, solid, and warm dragged slowly along the flat of her lower belly, sticky and heavy, leaving a searing trail of contact that made her muscles tense in alarm.

Her eyes widened, face turning a deeper shade of red as she felt it again—firm, veiny, unmistakably alive —pressed snugly between their bodies, rubbing just below her navel. Her soft stomach had molded to it involuntarily, and the heat of it was stark against the cooler droplets still clinging to her skin. It was far too large, far too heavy to be anything but what it clearly was, and for a breathless second, Hinata couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

Daiki let out a low grunt as he pushed up onto his knees, and in doing so, the full shape of his cock finally came into view—just inches from her bare skin. Her breath hitched sharply in her throat, lavender eyes locked on it as if in disbelief. It stood there between them, thick and shamelessly erect, the shaft veined and engorged, still glistening faintly from the aftermath of his earlier release. The head was flushed dark red, swollen and blunt, the girth of it so obscene that her fingers wouldn’t have been able to close around it, even if she dared to try. The length—at least nine inches—rested heavily against her, the tip twitching slightly with each of his shallow breaths.

Her lips parted soundlessly, face burning as she stared. It was massive. Inhumanly thick and long, the kind of size that made her instinctively shift her thighs together in nervous tension. The sight was overwhelming, surreal—an impossibly lewd contrast to her own modest, soft frame. And yet, here it was, hot and real, pressed against her trembling skin. She couldn't even bring herself to speak as her wide eyes remained fixed, caught in a stunned daze, the scent of the steam, his skin, and faint traces of his arousal swirling around her.

Initially frozen in place, Hinata’s body trembled beneath the weight of the moment. Her hands remained on Daiki’s shoulders, fingers curling faintly into his skin, her breath caught somewhere between panic and confusion. Her wide lavender eyes finally blinked, breaking the daze, and her lips parted in a trembling whisper. “W-What are you doing…? G-Get off… p-please…” Her voice quivered, barely more than a breath over the hiss of the shower, tinged with disbelief and rising panic. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the motion causing her bare breasts to brush once more against his chest. Her face burned, not just from the heat of the water, but from the mortifying exposure and closeness of it all.

She pushed again—weakly, not with the strength her training had taught her, but with a hesitation that betrayed her shock. “Y-You can’t… I-I don’t even know why… why are you here—” she stammered, the words tumbling out in broken pieces as her heart pounded against her ribs. Her body tensed beneath him, slick with water, thighs pressed tightly together in reflexive modesty. Her eyes flicked downward again, unable to stop herself, catching another glimpse of that impossibly large cock still resting heavily near her pelvis, its sheer presence like an anchor pinning her to the moment.

Daiki, still breathing heavily, blinked once, twice, as if realizing where he was. He hovered over her for a beat, muscles rigid, heart still racing—but then something shifted in his expression. What started as surprise softened into something more calculated, more confident. His hands, still on her hips, gave the faintest of squeezes. “Shit… I didn’t mean to fall in,” he muttered at first, glancing down—then back at her flustered face. His tone lowered, voice dipping into something softer, more intimate. “But… maybe it was meant to happen.”

Hinata flinched at the closeness of his voice, her eyes snapping up to meet his. He leaned in slightly, his mouth near her ear now, letting the steam curl around them like a veil. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Hinata,” he murmured, almost reverently. “You don’t even realize what you do to people.” She stiffened beneath him, but he continued, more firmly now, as if emboldened by her lack of true resistance. “You think you walk around the village and nobody notices? Every guy has stared. Dreamed of you. Every curve, every time you walk by with that tight little waist and those perfect tits.” His breath tickled her neck, his words sending a shiver down her spine she didn’t want to acknowledge. “They all wonder… what you’d look like like this. What you’d feel like. Smell like. Taste like.”

“I—I don’t… th-that’s not true,” Hinata breathed out, voice cracking as her eyes darted away, shame flooding her cheeks. Her legs instinctively squirmed beneath him, thighs pressed tighter together, but she didn’t push him again. Her breathing remained erratic, lips parted as she searched for words that wouldn’t come, chest rising and falling rapidly as the weight of his words settled over her like the water still cascading around them.

Daiki’s lips curled into a slow, smug smirk as he hovered over Hinata, his eyes drinking in every inch of her flustered, wet form beneath him. The soft pink flush across her cheeks, the way her damp hair clung to her shoulders and neck, the quiver of her thighs pressed together in shame—it was all fuel to the fire burning inside him. His grip on her hips remained firm, thumbs lazily brushing along her slick skin, the steam swirling thick around them like a veil cloaking something forbidden. 

“I bet the whole damn village would *kill* to see what I just saw,” he said, voice low and dripping with arrogance. “The way your tits bounce when you rinse them... the way that tight, perfect little body moves under the water… fuck.” He leaned closer, voice brushing against her ear now like a caress, heavy with mock admiration. “You have no idea how many would pay to see you like this. Every single frame I got—worth gold.” 

Hinata’s eyes widened in horror, her breath catching in her throat. “Y-You… y-you recorded me?” she whispered, her voice small, wounded, laced with disbelief and shame. Her hands pushed again at his shoulders with a bit more strength this time, but her effort was still feeble compared to the size and weight above her. “D-Delete them! please!” 

But Daiki only chuckled softly, ignoring the plea. His voice dipped again, this time laced with venomous amusement. “I wonder…” he murmured, dragging the moment out as his eyes slowly swept down her body. “Do your kids know how *fucking lewd* their mother is when she thinks no one’s watching? Or would that sweet little Boruto cry if he found out his mom soaps up her fat tits like a goddess and moans in the shower like she’s desperate for a cock?” 

Hinata recoiled at the words, her entire body stiffening under the weight of the cruel insinuation. “D-Don’t… don’t talk about them,” she said quickly, voice trembling, her lavender eyes brimming with panic. “They—they have nothing to do with this, p-please…” 

Her voice cracked on the last word, tears stinging her eyes from humiliation, from the sheer violation. Her hands gripped at his arms now more to steady herself than push him away, her body trembling beneath the cascade of hot water and his looming, taunting presence.

Hinata’s breath hitched audibly, a soft gasp escaping her lips as Daiki’s hands slid upward with a slow, deliberate confidence, water still cascading down her trembling form. The warmth of the shower only intensified the sensation—his palms slick with moisture as they glided over her soft skin, cupping the weight of her heavy breasts. Her eyes widened, body tense, yet her mouth remained parted in a quiet struggle between a protest and a moan that refused to form. The subtle tremble in her thighs gave her away. He kneaded them gently at first, thumbs brushing over the stiffening peaks of her nipples, now visibly pink and erect, betraying her body's involuntary reaction. The wet heat clung to every contour of her body, glistening over the curves of her breasts as the droplets followed the valley between them.

Daiki leaned in just slightly, his breath brushing against the shell of her ear, laced with smug satisfaction. “You want me to delete the pictures?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. “Then you better start working for it…” One hand slid to the side of her waist while the other remained fixated on her breasts, his fingers circling her nipple with maddening slowness. “For every orgasm you give me,” he murmured, giving her breast a firm squeeze that drew another sharp breath from her lips, “I’ll delete one.” He chuckled darkly, cock pressing flush against her lower belly, thick and twitching, teasing her with the proof of his arousal. “That’s fair, isn’t it… Mrs. Uzumaki?” he added with a mocking edge, watching her reaction closely. The camera phone remained perched on a nearby shelf—recording, blinking red—casting a quiet but ever-present threat over her flushed face as her breath grew more shallow.

Before Hinata could even muster a reply—caught between shame, panic, and the growing confusion of sensation—Daiki's mouth descended hungrily onto her left breast. His lips wrapped around the stiff pink nub, his tongue instantly swirling over the sensitive flesh with practiced rhythm. The suction was firm and greedy, his teeth lightly grazing her nipple just enough to make her arch back with a strangled gasp. Her knees buckled slightly, hips twitching forward on instinct, the water still streaming down their bodies in rivulets that only heightened every touch.

“Ah—n-no, wait—” she stammered, the words breathy and broken as the feeling overwhelmed her. “You… you c-can’t…” Her protests melted into a soft, drawn-out moan when his tongue flicked the peak faster, coaxing her body to betray her. “Nnh—Daiki… s-stop, I—hhaa…” Her hand pressed lightly against his shoulder, weak and trembling, lacking any real force. Her other arm moved instinctively to cover her other breast, as if shielding it from the inevitable. His free hand slid around her back, anchoring her in place, palm flat against her soaked skin as he continued suckling with slow, intentional pulls that made her toes curl.

Each time he suckled harder, her body gave a small jolt, breath catching again as her other nipple stiffened in sympathy. “It’s n-not… it’s not f-fair…” she whimpered, biting her lip to stifle another moan that escaped despite herself. Her entire face burned crimson as her head tilted back, strands of her soaked indigo hair clinging to her cheeks and collarbone, trembling in place while her tormentor feasted on her softness like he had all the time in the world.

Daiki's mouth roamed with increasing fervor, now switching to her right breast, his lips planting wet, sucking kisses along the inner curve before enveloping the nipple entirely. His tongue lashed at it eagerly, drawing circles around the sensitive bud before flicking it rapidly, then slowing again to long, indulgent swirls that made Hinata shudder against him. His saliva mixed with the hot shower water, creating a slick sheen over her flushed skin as he sucked noisily, savoring every reaction that rippled through her trembling frame.

“Damn… they’re even better up close,” he muttered between kisses, dragging his tongue along the underside of her breast with reverence that felt more perverse than praise. “So soft… so heavy. No wonder everyone in the village imagines burying their face in these.” He licked up the swell before biting down gently on the plump flesh near the nipple, not enough to hurt—just enough to leave his mark. “All that quiet, polite little housewife crap,” he sneered against her skin, “but look at you now—moaning while I worship these fat tits like they’re sacred.”

Hinata’s breathing came in shallow, panicked bursts, her lips parted as she tried to form words that wouldn't come. Her arms were pressed at her sides, fists clenched, but her body made no move to escape as his tongue dragged across the top of her breast. “You act so modest, Hinata-sama,” he hissed mockingly, flicking her nipple with his tongue once more, “but your body… your body’s just begging to be used.”

He cupped both breasts firmly now, squeezing them together and pressing his face between them, inhaling deeply as though intoxicated. “I could spend all day right here,” he murmured, licking across both stiffened tips before giving them a slow, open-mouthed kiss. “You were made to be drooled on, filmed, and fucked. Tell me—how long do you think Naruto could go without touching you before you ended up like this? Shaking under a punk like me.” His grin widened as he looked up at her with dripping lips, eyes filled with hunger and cruel amusement.

Daiki finally pulled back with a wet, satisfied slurp, strings of saliva stretching between his lips and Hinata’s glistening breasts. The cool air of the bathroom kissed the tender, over-sensitized skin now covered in a sheen of spit and water, making her nipples throb with residual attention. Her breasts, so recently sucked and groped, bounced gently from the release, glistening under the falling water as Daiki admired his work. Hinata’s face was a flushed canvas of shame—eyes half-lidded and dazed, lips trembling as her chest heaved with each shallow breath. Her hair, damp and clinging to her cheeks and collarbone, only amplified the look of stunned helplessness painted across her delicate features.

A mechanical click broke through the sound of running water.

She blinked slowly, eyes snapping downward just as Daiki held his phone up smugly, camera trained directly on her chest. “Perfect,” he said with a cruel grin, angling the screen so she could see the image of herself—breasts slick with spit, nipples hard, her expression one of pure erotic ruin. “That one’s definitely worth keeping,” he muttered. “But now you’ll have to work even harder if you want me to delete that one.” His tone was mocking, but laced with possessive heat, his eyes lingering on her body like she belonged to him now.

Before she could speak, Daiki moved with sudden, fluid control. He reached under her thighs, gripping her by the curve just beneath her ass, and effortlessly lifted her from the floor. Hinata gasped, arms instinctively gripping his shoulders, and her legs reflexively wrapped around his waist, soft calves pressing against his back as she tried to steady herself. Her wet body slid slightly against his, every inch of her now flush against his firm chest and stomach. He pinned her back gently but firmly against the nearby tiled wall, one hand anchoring her in place while the other squeezed her thigh, making her jolt.

Then she felt it.

The heat and weight of his cock, bare and heavy, pressed directly against her exposed slit. From this angle—this closeness—every inch of it aligned perfectly along her folds, its monstrous girth brushing obscenely between her lips without penetrating. Her breath caught in her throat, her body trembling as her folds parted slightly under the thick ridge of his shaft. Even through the heat of the shower, the contrast of his hardness made her stomach tighten with dread and something darker she couldn’t name. He rolled his hips ever so slightly, dragging the head of it up and down her slit with a teasing slowness that made her clutch tighter around him, whether from fear or instinct she didn’t know.

“Feel that?” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers as a crooked smile played on his lips. “That’s what’s coming next if you don’t convince me to be generous.”

Hinata’s fingers clutched helplessly at Daiki’s shoulders, her body trembling against the cold tile and the unbearable warmth of his body pressed against hers. “P-Please… Daiki… j-just stop…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the patter of the shower, every word trembling as though torn from her throat. Her eyes shimmered with desperation and shame, but they fluttered half-shut again as a wave of sensation surged through her when he shifted his hips slightly, grinding his thick shaft against her slick folds with excruciating precision. Her legs tightened instinctively around his waist, her body trying to resist gravity—but in doing so, she only pushed herself closer to him, arching her chest into his face.

Daiki’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, smirk widening as he stared directly at her dripping, heaving breasts, now just inches from his face. “You say stop…” he murmured, his breath ghosting over her skin, “but these say please don’t .” His hands slid up her sides, fingers spreading wide to cup the weight of her breasts again, his thumbs brushing slowly, almost affectionately, over her stiff nipples. “They’re begging for it,” he added smugly, squeezing them together and watching as they overflowed between his fingers, the water and saliva adding a shimmering gloss to their natural bounce.

He dipped his head down, mouth claiming one nipple with an agonizing slowness, his tongue flicking lazily over it before sealing his lips around it and sucking hard. Hinata choked on a moan, biting her lip too late to stop the sound from slipping out. “A-Ahh—d-don’t…” she whimpered, voice breathy and weak, her head falling back against the wall as her fingers curled reflexively. “Not… like this… i-it’s wrong…” But the way her chest arched forward, the way her hips involuntarily rolled against him—those told another story.

Daiki groaned into her flesh, releasing her nipple with a wet pop before switching to the other, lavishing it with the same cruel attention. “Wrong?” he echoed mockingly between slow, deliberate sucks. “Tell that to these perfect fucking tits.” He pressed his face fully into the plush swell of her chest, nuzzling and licking wildly now, greedily, before motorboating them with deep, vibrating groans that sent tremors through her core. Her breasts shook and bounced around his face, droplets flying as his hot breath and low growls filled her ears.

Hinata gasped sharply, overwhelmed, her hands now pushing weakly at his head as her body responded without consent. “N-No… s-stop doing that… i-it feels too weird… I-I c-can’t think straight…” she cried softly, her voice thick with helplessness, breath catching as he resumed his sucking with renewed fervor. Her nipples, now visibly swollen and deep pink, throbbed under every pull of his lips, the conflicting sensations unraveling her bit by bit as Daiki smirked against her skin, fully aware of her losing grip on resistance.

Hinata squealed as Daiki’s mouth sealed tight around her nipple once more, the suction harsher this time, tongue dragging in slow, heavy circles. Her body jerked in his grip, thighs trembling as she instinctively tried to push herself back from the wall, only to press her hips harder against his. “A-Ahh! N-No—d-don’t… it’s too much…!” she cried, her voice high and trembling, her breath coming in short, rapid gasps. Her legs tightened around his waist as she squirmed in his hold, but that only made the contact more intense—her breasts bounced against his face with every shiver, every twist of her helpless body.

Daiki pulled back just slightly, lips still brushing her skin as he stared up at her flushed face. “Sensitive, huh?” he murmured with a smug curl of his lips, giving her breasts a teasing squeeze. “Should’ve figured a quiet little thing like you would have tits this responsive… You’ve probably spent years pretending they weren’t aching for this kind of attention.” His voice dropped lower, darker, as his tongue flicked her nipple again. “I could make you cum from just this, couldn’t I?”

Without warning, he parted his lips and gave the swollen nub a playful but firm bite—just enough to make her jolt violently in his arms.

“A-AHHhn! Nnghh… D-Daiki, y-you c-can’t do that…!” Hinata yelped, her fingers clutching at his wet hair, pulling lightly—not enough to stop him, but driven by instinctual panic. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes shut tight as another involuntary moan slipped out of her throat. “Th-They’re too… sensitive… I-I c-can’t handle…”

He growled against her skin, switching to suck on the bitten nipple again, tongue soothing the spot as she writhed against him. All the while, the thick heat of his cock pressed harder and harder against her folds, the length nestled perfectly along the seam of her slick entrance. With each squirm, with each grind of her hips, it threatened to slide just a little farther down—each movement dragging the fat tip right up against her opening, the swollen head kissing her folds but never quite slipping inside.

Daiki grunted low in his throat, the restraint nearly unbearable, his voice muffled as he murmured against her breast, “Keep moving like that, and you’re going to slide me right in, sweetheart…” He looked up again, his face still half-buried in her cleavage, eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. “Maybe that’s what you want… maybe your body’s already decided.”

Daiki’s hands tightened around the underside of Hinata’s thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as his smirk deepened. “If your body’s already begging for it…” he murmured, leaning in to nip at her collarbone, “then I might as well give it a taste.” With a slow, deliberate grind of his hips, he angled himself perfectly—and pushed forward.

The swollen, mushroom-like head of his cock breached her folds with a thick, wet pop , just the head—and yet it felt like so much more. Three full inches of dense, throbbing heat forced its way past her trembling entrance, the girth stretching her open in a way she’d never felt before. Hinata’s back arched violently, a cry catching in her throat as her eyes flew wide open, pupils dilating with the sudden shock of intrusion. Her walls clenched down hard around him immediately, her entire body seizing up as the sensation overwhelmed her.

“Ahhh—! N-Nooo—!!” she cried out, voice high and trembling as her head fell forward, forehead resting against his shoulder. “T-Too… b-big… I-I can’t…!” Her legs spasmed around his waist, heels digging into his back as if trying to stop the motion—yet her hips rocked forward involuntarily, her inner muscles fluttering and tightening with rapid pulses.

Then it hit her.

Her orgasm crashed into her like a wave—sudden, uncontrollable, and all-consuming. Her inner walls clenched down again, this time rhythmically, milking just the tip of him as her body convulsed in his arms. Her pussy throbbed violently around the massive intrusion, juices gushing out around the thick girth of his cockhead, dripping down his shaft in a hot, slick rush. Her nipples tightened even more as her breasts bounced with each tremor, her cries echoing off the shower walls.

Daiki hissed through his teeth, feeling the wet heat flood around him, soaking him completely. He held her still, relishing the tremors racking her body, watching the ruined expression on her face with open satisfaction. “Already?” he chuckled darkly, brushing a few strands of soaked hair from her face. “You came just from the tip, didn’t you?”

He thrust forward just slightly, enough to make her jolt again. “You do remember you’re the one who’s supposed to be making me cum, right?” he added smugly, his breath hot against her ear. “At this rate, I’ll have to add pictures instead of deleting them…”

Daiki’s hands slid from beneath Hinata’s thighs with a sudden, possessive confidence, letting her drop gently but decisively down onto the slick, steamy tile. Her knees hit first, legs wobbling beneath her as she caught herself on trembling palms, hair clinging to her flushed face in soaked strands. Her breath came in shallow, quivering pants, the aftershocks of her orgasm still echoing through her hips. Water splashed around her as she adjusted, blinking up in dazed confusion—only to feel Daiki’s shadow loom over her once more.

“I think it’s about time I let you do your job,” he said coolly, smirking as he stepped in close, the head of his cock now glistening from her orgasm. It hung before her face, impossibly hard and veined, slick with her own juices. Just inches away, it looked even more massive now—throbbing with heat, fat and heavy, and utterly demanding attention. Hinata’s eyes widened as she stared at it, her lips parting involuntarily as her gaze traced every intimidating inch. The thick shaft curved upward slightly, veins pulsing along the sides, the swollen tip flushed a deep red and twitching with anticipation.

She gulped, her voice caught in her throat as her eyes slowly lifted to meet his. “I-I… I d-don’t…” she stammered, shaking her head, her voice small, barely more than a whisper. “It’s… s-so big…”

Daiki just chuckled darkly and, without a word, pulled out his phone once more. With a flick of his thumb, the screen lit up—and he turned it toward her. There it was: an image of her breasts moments earlier, coated in spit, her nipples erect and her face dazed and flushed. Another swipe, and there was a video—her standing in the shower, unaware, steam curling around her curves as she rinsed her hair, her heavy breasts swaying with each movement, pink nipples just visible through the running water. The camera lingered on her ass as she turned, giving a perfect shot of her bent slightly over, the curve of her hips on full display.

Hinata’s face turned scarlet, her mouth hanging open in disbelief as she stared at the screen. “W-Why would you… y-you took those while I…” She trailed off, shame and helplessness twisting inside her. Her hands clenched uselessly at her knees, chest rising and falling as she tried to process it all.

Daiki stepped closer, letting the tip of his cock graze her cheek, leaving a smear of warm slickness. “Every time you hesitate, I think about uploading one,” he murmured lowly. “But be a good girl and use that pretty little mouth… and maybe I’ll keep them to myself.”

Hinata flinched slightly as the warm, slick tip of Daiki’s cock slid along her cheek, her breath catching at the sheer heat and weight of it. Her eyes stayed locked on the screen for another trembling second before flicking back up to him—his expression smug, confident, unrelenting. The sound of the running water, the tight steam filling the space, the way her body still tingled from her recent climax—it all blurred together, making it feel surreal, like a fever dream she couldn’t wake from.

Her lips trembled, voice fragile but audible as she whispered, “Y-You… said you’d delete them… i-if I did what you asked…” She stared at his shaft again, her gaze dragging slowly along its impressive length. “S-So… I’ll try… just… d-don’t show anyone…” Her cheeks flushed a deeper crimson, eyes watering slightly as shame welled up behind them, but she didn’t move away.

Daiki chuckled lowly, pleased, and adjusted his stance slightly, letting his cock bounce in front of her face with a heavy twitch. “Good girl,” he murmured. “But don’t just try —do it like you’re the only one who can.” He held the base casually with one hand, giving it a quick pump, then gestured toward it. “Go on. Show me how grateful you are.”

Hinata lifted her trembling hands toward it, fingers splayed uncertainly. As she tried to wrap them around the girthy shaft, her palms couldn’t meet—there was simply too much. She used both hands, stacking them one above the other in a desperate attempt to grasp it fully. Her fingers barely circled the thick meat of it, slick and pulsing in her grip, the veins throbbing beneath her soft touch. Her wrists trembled with the effort, unsure whether from nerves, shame, or the sheer exertion of holding something so massive and heavy.

A soft click drew her attention, and her head snapped up just in time to see the camera flash. Daiki’s phone was angled down at her, catching everything—her flushed, soaked face, her hands wrapped around his cock, her lips parted in uncertainty. “Had to get that,” he said, voice soaked in smug satisfaction. “You look so good like this, Hinata. Fucking perfect.”

He tapped the screen again, now recording. The red light blinked steadily as he slowly zoomed in, focusing on the contrast between her delicate hands and the sheer size of what she was holding. “Smile for me,” he teased, voice low and dripping with amusement. “Or don’t—this is just for me anyway.”

The camera lens captured everything—the slow, tentative strokes of her hands gliding up and down his thick shaft, the way her fingers strained to keep a grip around the slick girth. Water streamed over her arms, dripping from her wrists as she moved, the motion awkward but earnest. Her cheeks were burning, eyes lowered, unable to meet his as she worked in silence, the soft squelch of wet skin on skin echoing under the steady stream of the shower. Daiki’s cock pulsed in her grip, veins prominent, the head flushed and angry, oozing a bead of precum that smeared across her knuckles.

“Look at you…” Daiki murmured behind the phone, zooming in on her face before panning slowly down the length of his shaft in her grasp. “Mrs. Uzumaki, kneeling on the bathroom floor, jerking off the punk who used to bully her son. What would your little family think if they saw you now?” His voice oozed with malicious glee, every word twisting the knife deeper.

He leaned in slightly, making sure the phone captured the way her hands tightened around him as he continued. “Bet Naruto’s never even made you squirt like you just did. Has he?” His tone turned mocking, smug. “Doesn’t even know how to treat tits like yours, let alone deal with a body like this. Always off playing Hokage, never around to see how needy his wife really is.”

Hinata’s lips parted slightly as if to respond, but no words came. Her hands kept moving, slower now, trembling, the humiliation mounting with every passing second. Her silence hung between them—loud, telling.

Daiki caught it instantly, his grin widening as he tilted the camera down for another close-up of her hands around his cock. “Oh?” he laughed softly, voice curling with satisfaction. “Not even gonna try to deny it?” He reached out with his free hand and brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger against her burning skin. “So he’s smaller. Figured as much.”

He gave a slight thrust into her hands, letting the weight of his cock slap softly against her fingers before she adjusted. “But I’m not mad at you for staying quiet, Hinata,” he purred. “That just tells me everything I needed to know.”

Hinata’s strokes were hesitant, slow, her trembling hands gliding along Daiki’s length with nervous uncertainty. Each pass barely traveled halfway down before she brought her hands back up, struggling to maintain any real rhythm. Her fingers slid clumsily over the thick shaft, the slickness of water mixing with the first dribbles of precum that beaded at the swollen head and traced a lazy line down his veined girth. She bit her bottom lip, ashamed, her eyes locked on the task in front of her but her movements faltering—halfhearted, submissive, but far from seductive.

Daiki let out a scoffing grunt, shifting his weight slightly, his phone angled above her as he recorded every lackluster motion. “Seriously?” he sneered, the condescension thick in his voice. “You call that stroking? Come on, even Naruto would probably give better handjobs, and I doubt he’s ever touched another cock.” He let the words hang in the air like poison, waiting for a reaction—but Hinata only flinched, her face glowing crimson beneath strands of soaked indigo hair.

“You think this is enough to earn a deleted photo?” he continued, voice dropping lower, crueler. “You’re gonna have to do a hell of a lot more than this if you want to save that prim, perfect little image of yourself.” The cock in her hands twitched again, thick and pulsing, and the precum now smeared across her fingers began to coat her palms, creating a glossy layer that made each slide smoother—slicker.

Daiki leaned in a little closer, letting his words drip with mock affection. “But I know the truth, Hinata. I’ve seen the truth,” he said with a soft, smug laugh. “The way you moaned from just my mouth on your tits… the way you came— hard —from just the tip… You’re not shy. You’re not modest. You’re lewd. Always have been. You just needed someone to show you what your body was really made for.”

He moved the camera to the side, capturing the profile of her flushed face as she struggled with the weight and size of the cock in her hands. “So go ahead,” he murmured, “worship it. Like you were meant to.”

Her breathing grew heavier, shame tangled with something deeper, more confusing. Her hands began to move faster—still awkward, still uncertain, but no longer hesitant. The slick glide of precum over her fingers gave her strokes more rhythm, her palms slipping smoothly along his thick shaft with each pass. She gripped him tighter, her thumbs now brushing under the heavy head on the upstroke, earning a low grunt from above. The weight of him in her hands, the heat, the way he pulsed eagerly with every pass—it all overwhelmed her senses.

Water trickled down her wrists and arms, droplets mingling with the thick sheen of arousal coating her hands as she finally began to stroke him with more intent, each motion now a quiet act of reluctant submission—and slow, undeniable acceptance.

Daiki watched with hooded eyes as Hinata’s delicate hands moved faster now, her palms gliding more confidently over his slick, veiny shaft. The sight was intoxicating—her on her knees, soaked from the shower, strands of indigo hair clinging to her flushed cheeks as she focused solely on his cock. Her brows were furrowed, lips parted as she panted softly, the heat of her breath washing over the swollen head each time her strokes neared the tip. It was almost enough… almost. But not quite.

Damn, he thought to himself, jaw tightening slightly as another pulse surged through his cock. That pretty mouth of hers would feel so much better than just her hands. He let the thought settle for a beat, the mental image of her lips stretched around his girth burning into his mind before he acted.

Without warning, Daiki’s free hand moved with purpose. He reached down and cupped the back of her head, fingers slipping easily through her soaked hair until he had a firm grip. Hinata gasped, startled, her hands faltering on his shaft just as he guided her forward. The thick, flushed tip of his cock smacked softly against her cheek with a wet thump , leaving a streak of precum in its wake. Another gentle push, and the mushroom-shaped head dragged along her lips, smearing them in a sheen of his arousal.

Hinata whimpered, her hands instinctively pressing against his thighs, lips trembling as the heat and weight of him dominated her senses. She could feel the veins pulsing against her skin, the slickness coating her mouth, and the sheer size of it resting right against her face—an undeniable reminder of what he expected next.

Daiki chuckled lowly, amused by her hesitation, his voice dipping into that smug, unrelenting tone. “Come on, Hinata,” he murmured, keeping his grip firm as he tilted her face to align perfectly with the tip. “Just use your mouth already. You know that’s what this was always leading to.” His cock throbbed against her lips, the warmth of her breath making it twitch again. “Unless you'd rather I show your husband what his perfect little wife is really good at...”

Hinata trembled at his words, the humiliation cutting deeper than ever as the slick weight of his cock rested against her lips. Her eyes, wide and glistening, lifted to meet his, searching for even the faintest trace of mercy—but Daiki’s gaze was unwavering, hungry, and gleaming with cruel satisfaction. The soft hum of the water, the steam clinging to their skin, it all blurred around her, leaving only the heat of his cock and the pulse of dread and confusion thrumming in her chest.

“I… I don’t want him to see me like this…” she whispered, her voice cracked and trembling as her lips brushed the underside of the swollen head. “Please… d-don’t show him…” Her breath hitched as another pulse throbbed against her mouth. “I’ll… I’ll do it. J-Just don’t let him see…”

Her lips parted slowly, reluctantly, as she leaned forward—one hand still wrapped at the base to steady him. The fat tip spread her mouth obscenely, stretching her jaw with just the head, and already her cheeks were tinged red from the strain. The texture shocked her—the skin velvety-soft over rigid heat, slick with her own juices and his precum, coating her tongue with a salty, musky tang that made her entire body shiver. The taste was thick, masculine, impossible to ignore.

Daiki groaned deep in his chest, his hand still cradling the back of her head. “Fuck… That’s more like it,” he hissed, hips twitching slightly forward, his cock slowly slipping past her lips. Her tongue instinctively flattened beneath the underside as her mouth adjusted to the girth, warm and wet around him. The sheer tightness of her lips made his breath catch—every inch that disappeared past her mouth felt like heaven.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his tone rougher now, ragged with pleasure. “So much better than your hands… God, your mouth was made for this.” He kept the pressure light on the back of her head, letting her pace herself—for now—while savoring the warm suction and the soft, hesitant swirls of her tongue around the underside of his crown. Her muffled breath came in little hums, the sound vibrating around him as she began to take him just a little deeper.

Hinata’s jaw ached almost immediately as she tried to take him deeper, but Daiki’s cock was simply too thick. Her lips were stretched to their limit, the corners of her mouth tugged painfully wide around the swollen head alone. Drool already began to collect at the edges of her lips, mixing with the steady trickle of water from above, creating a warm, wet sheen that dribbled down her chin. Her soft, plush lips formed a tight seal around the crown, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she instinctively sucked in, tongue pressed flat and quivering beneath the underside.

Her hands remained at the base of his cock, fingers trembling as they attempted to stroke the portion she couldn’t possibly fit. It was a hopeless contrast—only the top few inches were in her mouth, yet more than half of his veiny length still pulsed outside her lips. Every attempt to sink lower made her gag softly, her throat tightening reflexively, her eyes watering as her body fought against the sheer girth being fed to it.

Daiki tilted his head back with a groan, the sight and sensation of her lips stretched so tightly around his cock nearly making his knees buckle. “Fuck… look at you,” he growled, one hand gripping the back of her head tighter now, not pushing—just anchoring her there, feeling the subtle vibrations of her moans reverberate through his shaft. “Can barely fit the tip, and you’re already drooling all over yourself…”

Her tongue fluttered helplessly along the underside, tracing the thick ridge where the head met the shaft, desperately trying to respond, to please him, even as her body trembled with each breath she stole through her nose. Every time she pulled back just a little, a soft pop echoed as the suction briefly broke, only for her to slide forward again, her lips gliding over his slick skin. Strings of saliva clung between her lips and his cock as she moved, the mess growing with every bob of her head.

Hinata’s eyes were glazed, lashes wet from the effort, her brows knit together in discomfort and shame—but she didn’t stop. Her hands stroked faster to compensate, working in tandem with her mouth, her fingers slick with a mix of saliva and precum. She could feel his veins throb against her tongue, could taste every inch of his arousal—and despite how degrading it felt, how much her body trembled with exhaustion and embarrassment, she continued.

The red recording light on Daiki’s phone blinked steadily, unblinking and unrelenting, capturing every humiliating second from above—Hinata on her knees, lips stretched tight around the head of his cock, saliva cascading in thick strands down her chin, dripping onto her bare breasts below. The lens zoomed in slowly, detailing the way her lips formed a trembling ring around him, the raw strain in her jaw visible, her cheeks flushed a deep pink from exertion and embarrassment.

Daiki watched through the screen for a moment, utterly mesmerized by the way her mouth looked wrapped around his girth. Every time her head bobbed forward, the tip vanished into her lips before her throat seized in protest. Her gag reflex fired instinctively, her whole body jolting with a wet choke, and yet she still tried to take him deeper. Strings of drool connected her lips to the base of his cock when she pulled back, her breath ragged through her nose as she prepared to slide forward again. Her hands gripped tightly near the base, stroking faster now in sync with the desperate rhythm of her mouth.

He could feel it—every hesitant swirl of her tongue around the crown, the way her lips sucked tighter as she tried to please him, even while her body rebelled. Her tongue trembled beneath him, struggling to maneuver with what little space she had, licking around the flared ridge of his head as she gagged softly again. “That’s it,” he murmured under his breath, lowering the phone slightly to get a better angle of her mouth sloppily working his cock. “Keep trying. You’re not quitting until I feel those lips kiss the base… or you pass out trying.”

Hinata let out another stifled choke, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as the thick head rammed against the back of her throat again, her entire body shuddering with the effort. Her moans were muffled, wet and trembling, the sound only adding to the obscene squelching of her mouth sliding over his slick shaft. Drool spilled freely now, coating his cock and dripping between her fingers as she pumped the rest of his length, desperate to give him more than she physically could. Each time she tried to force herself lower, her throat clenched tighter, another soft gag escaping as she fought her own limits.

And all the while, Daiki’s phone recorded it all—every gag, every tear, every humiliating attempt to devour something too big for her mouth to handle.

Daiki’s restraint began to slip as the heat, the sight, and the wet, sloppy sound of Hinata’s mouth around his cock overtook him. His hips began to roll forward, subtle at first, then more deliberate. Each push forced more of his thick girth past her trembling lips, earning deeper, wetter gags from the kneeling kunoichi. Her throat convulsed with every intrusive inch, the tip of his cock bullying the tight ring at the back of her mouth, pressing harder with each shallow thrust. Hinata whimpered around him, the sound muffled and broken, her throat vibrating as she struggled to breathe, saliva overflowing from the corners of her mouth in glossy rivulets.

What she didn’t expect—what made her shudder with quiet horror—was the warmth that had begun to build between her thighs again. The humiliating sensation of wetness returning, unbidden, undeniable. Her body trembled with it, torn between panic and a confused, instinctive need for more stimulation, even as her lips burned and her jaw screamed from the stretch.

Daiki groaned lowly, then grunted as he gave a final push—only to pull back, dragging his cock from her mouth with a slick, wet pop. Thick strands of saliva clung between them, stretching from her tongue to the swollen head of his cock and down to her chin in long, glistening strings. She gasped raggedly, blinking through tears, her lips puffy and red, chin dripping with spit as her chest heaved from the effort.

He looked down at her like a conqueror surveying his prize, his smirk widening. “Damn… You look like you’ve done this before,” he said with a low chuckle, eyes dragging slowly from her ruined face to her bare, heaving chest. “But I bet you haven’t, have you?” He pointed his phone down at her again. “Go on. Hold those fat fucking tits together.”

Hinata hesitated only a second before complying, her hands shakily rising to cup the full weight of her breasts. She pressed them together, creating a tight, plush valley of warm, trembling flesh. Her skin was flushed, slick from the steam and her own drool, nipples stiff from both arousal and the cool air. She avoided his gaze, ashamed—but she did it. His cock twitched at the sight, still slick and glistening, as he stepped forward and pressed it between the pillowy softness.

Daiki hissed between his teeth, staring down at the obscene image—her perfect tits encasing his massive length, her hands barely able to hold them together tightly enough. The thick shaft pulsed through her cleavage, the tip visibly poking out the top by nearly three full inches. The contrast was obscene: pale, trembling mounds of breast meat swallowing his cock, drool still trailing down her chest in slow drips.

“Look at that,” he said smugly, angling the camera to get a perfect view of it all. “I knew they were big—but I didn’t realize they were the perfect fit for this monster. Naruto ever do this with you?” His voice curled with derision, savoring the taunt.

Hinata, eyes wet and jaw sore, finally shook her head and whispered, “N-No… I’ve never… n-not with Naruto…”

That did something to Daiki—his cock throbbed eagerly between her tits, precum bubbling at the tip. His grin widened into something darker, more primal. “So I’m the first to fuck these tits?” he laughed, voice thick with excitement. “Goddamn, of course I am. He doesn’t deserve you. What’s he gonna do with these perfect fuckpillows—kiss them goodnight?” He gave a slow thrust, sliding his cock between the compressed valley of her breasts. “Nah… you were meant for this.”

Daiki adjusted his stance slightly, angling the phone just right as he began a slow, steady thrust between Hinata’s tightly pressed breasts. His cock glided easily through the plush valley—slick with drool, shower water, and his own arousal—each stroke met with the soft friction of her warm, yielding skin. Her cleavage wrapped around his shaft like a silken vice, the pillowy softness of her breasts molding perfectly around his girth as he began to establish a rhythm. Wet squelches filled the steamy bathroom as his cock slid back and forth, disappearing into the trembling mounds and re-emerging with a glistening sheen each time.

Hinata’s fingers curled instinctively around the sides of her breasts, trying to keep them pressed tightly together under the weight and pressure of his thrusts. Her knuckles were pale, trembling, her entire body flushed with exertion and embarrassment. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him—instead, her eyes remained half-lidded and downcast, fixed on the obscene sight between her breasts as his thick shaft pumped through her cleavage. Every few seconds, she’d flinch as the fat, swollen head of his cock reappeared from the top, precum smearing across the upper swell of her chest and chin in slick, glossy trails.

The tip throbbed with each forward roll of his hips, and more than once, it smacked audibly against her lips, leaving a sticky mark each time. Her mouth parted involuntarily on contact, a soft gasp slipping out as the massive head nudged her lips aside. Her face—red, glistening, and coated in a mix of spit and sweat—twitched subtly with every impact. Her expression was a broken mix of shame, breathless effort, and stunned resignation, her lips trembling as they brushed against the underside of his cock over and over again.

Daiki kept the camera trained on her face, zooming in slightly as he caught another moment where the crown of his cock thudded lightly against her lips, leaving a fresh string of precum trailing downward. “Look at that face,” he muttered behind the lens, breath hitching with pleasure. “Made for this. God, you look so fucking perfect with my cock sliding through your tits.”

The camera picked up everything—the faint whimpers from her throat, the wet slap of skin on skin, the tremble of her arms as she held her breasts in place while he used them like his personal toy. Her flushed chest bounced with each thrust, nipples stiff and poking out through the gaps in her fingers, her entire body rocking ever so slightly from the force of his movements.

And yet, she didn’t stop him. Even as the fat head of his cock tapped her lips again, leaving another glistening smear, she simply exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering with shame as her grip tightened—still holding her breasts together, still letting him fuck her chest like it was his right.

The slick sensation of Hinata’s breasts wrapped tightly around Daiki’s cock was nothing short of euphoric. Every stroke dragged his thick shaft through the warm, soft valley of her chest, where skin met skin with a seamless, wet glide. Her cleavage, still coated in a combination of spit, shower water, and his leaking precum, created a lewd, almost obscene shlick with every forward thrust—a sound that echoed softly beneath the patter of the running shower. The friction was perfect—her breasts were so supple, so malleable, they clung to him with a suction-like smoothness that made each slide feel like her body was sucking him in, pulling him closer to climax with every stroke.

Daiki groaned low in his throat, the hand holding the phone gripping tighter as he kept the camera aimed down at the sight of her working his cock with her tits. The other hand hovered possessively on the back of her head, not guiding her anymore—but there to watch her reaction up close, to feel the tension rise in her posture. His cock twitched violently between her breasts, veins bulging along its slick surface as the pleasure built like a coiling spring. The tip continued to slap and drag across her flushed face, the fat mushroom head smearing a fresh trail of sticky precum along her cheek, across her lips, and down the bridge of her nose.

Hinata’s breathing had turned shallow, her lips parted in stunned gasps each time the head of his cock throbbed close to her mouth. She could feel it—how he grew harder, heavier with each thrust, how the heat pulsing through his cock turned blistering against her skin. Her hands tightened around her breasts instinctively, pressing them closer, milking him. Her expression was distant and dazed, eyes half-closed, mouth slightly agape, unaware of how inviting she looked at that exact moment—until it happened.

With a sharp grunt and one final thrust, Daiki’s hips jerked forward—and he came hard.

A thick, hot rope of cum shot from the tip, splashing directly across Hinata’s cheek and lips. The force of it made her gasp in surprise, only to receive the next heavy stream straight into her open mouth. More followed—another spurt hitting her nose and dripping into her cleavage, while the rest erupted between her breasts, pooling in the slick valley and oozing downward in slow, creamy rivulets. The camera recorded every burst, every jolt of his cock, every twitch in her stunned expression as his orgasm painted her chest and face in thick, white lines.

Hinata blinked, stunned, as she tasted the salty warmth on her tongue—her lips sticky, her cheeks splattered, her chest coated in heavy streaks. Her breath trembled as her body remained motionless, frozen in the afterglow of his climax, thick drips of cum sliding between her breasts and down her stomach like hot wax. The sensation was overwhelming—heat, shame, and the sheer weight of it all lingering on her skin as Daiki exhaled a satisfied groan above her, cock still twitching between her sticky, ruined tits.

Daiki's phone remained steady in his grip, the camera unwavering as it captured every vivid, obscene second of his climax. The lens recorded the exact moment the first hot rope of cum splashed across Hinata’s cheek, how her head jerked slightly in surprise, lips parted and glistening as the next thick spurt coated her mouth. Her eyes fluttered, unfocused and dazed, as more followed—his seed painting her in long, gloppy streaks, splashing across the bridge of her nose, dripping into the crevice of her cleavage, trailing down between her breasts in slow, sticky rivers. The way it clung to her eyelashes, how it dripped from her chin and pooled onto the slick tiles beneath—every frame was raw, intimate, and utterly humiliating.

To Daiki, it was perfect.

“Fuck… that’s art,” he muttered under his breath, panting slightly as he zoomed in, capturing the way his cum gleamed against her flushed skin, how her lips trembled under the weight of it, some of it glistening across the soft pink of her tongue. Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, her hands still cupping her breasts out of habit or shame—he couldn’t tell. The camera picked up the subtle twitch of her thighs, the stray bead of cum sliding from the tip of his cock to the curve of her breast.

Then, with one final slow pan of her ruined, cum-splattered face and dripping chest, he stopped recording.

Still breathing heavily, Daiki lowered the phone just briefly to tap the screen—then raised it again. Click. He snapped a still photo of her face, covered and dazed, lips parted as another drop of his seed slid down to the corner of her mouth. Click. Another picture from above, capturing the full display: her kneeling, hands squeezing her slick breasts around his cock, the creamy mess dripping from her skin in thick, obscene strands. Click. One more of her looking up, dazed and shivering, his cock still nestled between her breasts.

He finally stepped back, dragging his cock free with a wet, sticky pull, strands of cum stretching between them. “That’s one picture gone,” he said with a lazy smirk, casually scrolling on his phone. “Hope you’ve got a lot more in you, Hinata. We’ve got… plenty more to delete.”

Daiki didn’t give her much time to recover. With one hand still casually holding his phone, he reached out with the other, gripping Hinata’s upper arm and pulling her to her feet. Her knees wobbled beneath her, legs slick and unsteady from a mix of water, arousal, and the lingering warmth of his release still clinging to her skin. She gasped softly, blinking in confusion, lips still tinged with the taste of his climax as he turned her around.

“Up,” he muttered, voice rough and commanding.

He guided her toward the bathroom counter, her bare feet slipping slightly on the wet tile as he pressed her forward. Her soft, flushed body met the cold marble edge of the vanity, her hands instinctively bracing against it as her reflection came into view—face streaked with drying cum, eyes wide and glassy, mouth slightly open. Her breasts, still sticky and glistening, hung freely, the mess between them trickling downward in lazy trails. Behind her, she could feel him move in close—his warmth, his breath, the slight brush of his body against hers.

Then came his hand.

Without warning, Daiki’s fingers reached between her thighs and forced them apart. Hinata gasped, body jolting as his hand slid upward—fingers splayed—until his middle and ring fingers suddenly plunged knuckle-deep into her soaked folds.

“Ahh—!” she cried out, her voice breaking in a breathless moan, back arching as the sudden invasion sent a shockwave of sensation tearing through her core. Her thighs trembled violently, muscles spasming as her hands gripped the edge of the counter tighter. Her folds clenched instinctively around his fingers, slick and hot, practically sucking him in with how wet she already was. His fingers were long—longer than Naruto’s, thicker too—and the way he curled them slightly as they filled her made her legs nearly give out.

“Fuck,” Daiki breathed lowly, staring at her reflection as he worked his fingers inside her slowly but firmly. “You’re soaking… You liked that mess on your face, didn’t you?” His fingers slid in deeper, twisting just enough to graze that spot that made her breath catch in her throat, her mouth opening in a silent cry.

Daiki set his phone down on the counter beside Hinata, propping it up just enough to perfectly capture her reflection in the mirror—her flushed, wrecked face still streaked with remnants of his release, strands of hair clinging to her cheeks, eyes wide with conflicting emotions. He adjusted the angle slightly, ensuring the frame caught every twitch of her brows, every flutter of her lashes, and the full view of her heaving chest pressed against the vanity. The red recording light blinked back to life, casting a quiet glow in the steamy haze of the bathroom.

Behind her, Hinata could feel the weight of his gaze before his hands left her hips. The sudden absence of touch made her shiver—though not from cold—and a heartbeat later, she heard the wet sound of his knees meeting the tile behind her. She gasped softly when his breath brushed over her inner thighs, hot and heavy. Her knees instinctively pressed inward, but Daiki’s firm grip parted them again with ease, leaving her bare, open, trembling.

Her entire body jolted as he plunged a third finger into her dripping pussy, the stretch immediate and intrusive. “Nn—ahh…!” she cried, voice soft but laced with breathless shock. Her walls fluttered around the added girth, her body slick and embarrassingly receptive, the sound of his fingers thrusting into her filling the space between her gasps. The pressure of three thick fingers moving inside her was overwhelming—deep, insistent, almost punishing in how precisely he curled them to drag along her most sensitive inner walls.

Then came his tongue.

Hinata choked on her next breath as Daiki leaned in and dragged his tongue along her swollen, trembling clit. The contact was deliberate and slow at first, wet and smooth, sending a jolt straight through her spine. Her knees buckled slightly, hips shifting in protest—and yet she didn’t pull away. Instead, a soft, involuntary moan slipped from her lips, eyes fluttering half-shut as heat pooled in her gut.

“W-Wait… Daiki… s-stop, y-you shouldn’t—ahh…!” Her words came weak, tangled between breathy gasps and a growing, confused whimper. Her protest lacked force, overridden by the treacherous way her body pushed back into his fingers, seeking more pressure, more friction.

Her eyes met the mirror again, and what she saw only deepened her shame. Her reflection—a flushed, panting woman being fingered and licked open from behind, three fingers knuckle-deep in her soaked folds, and a mouth working skillfully against her pulsing clit—looked nothing like the composed shinobi or loving mother she knew herself to be. Her lips parted, a shuddering moan escaping as her hips began to rock instinctively with his rhythm, the shame in her eyes slowly blurring into a dazed, helpless haze of arousal.

Daiki’s tongue moved with deliberate precision, flicking in slow, firm strokes over Hinata’s swollen clit while his three thick fingers worked her from within, curling and thrusting with a rhythm honed to her every twitch and gasp. The wet heat of his mouth contrasted sharply with the powerful stretch of his fingers, creating a maddening fusion of sensations that Hinata had never experienced—never even imagined. Her entire body trembled against the edge of the counter, her nails dragging across the slick marble as she fought for stability. Each time his tongue circled her aching nub, her thighs jerked, and her hips rocked instinctively backward into his hand, her breath coming faster, softer, needier.

His fingers were relentless—pushing deep with each stroke, parting her folds and rubbing against the spongey patch buried inside her that made her gasp sharp and high. He rotated his wrist just enough to let the pads of his fingers press with focused intent, stroking upward with rhythmic, wet sounds that filled the steamy air. Her slickness dripped freely now, coating his hand, her inner walls clenching down with fluttering desperation, practically sucking his fingers deeper.

Hinata’s entire body was burning. Her breasts, still sticky with the remnants of his earlier climax, pressed against the cold counter in sharp contrast to the molten pleasure building low in her belly. Her clit throbbed against his tongue, every swirl and flick amplifying the pulsing pressure that had begun to spiral out of control. “Ahh—n-no, I… I c-can’t—!” she cried out, her voice breaking as her thighs clamped weakly around his head, her heels lifting off the floor as her toes curled.

Daiki didn’t stop—his tongue flattened and dragged across her clit with one long, wet stroke, followed by a sharp flick. Then another. And another.

The pressure exploded.

Hinata’s orgasm tore through her like a wave crashing against a crumbling dam. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream before the first, shattered moan escaped her lips. Her body convulsed violently, hips jerking against his hand, thighs shaking as the muscles in her core seized in pulsing contractions. Her pussy clenched tight around his fingers, coating them in a sudden, gushing warmth that spilled down his wrist and thighs, mixing with the sweat and water between her legs. Her vision blurred as her head fell forward, hair veiling her face while her reflection in the mirror showed a woman undone—shuddering, mouth agape, eyes glazed with the raw, helpless bliss of release.

And Daiki, still knelt behind her, watched it all with hungry satisfaction—his fingers never ceasing, his tongue giving one last slow lick to her throbbing clit as she fell apart in his hands.

With one final, languid lick over her trembling clit—slow and indulgent, as if savoring the last taste of her orgasm—Daiki withdrew his tongue and stood up. The sound of water dripping from both their bodies filled the space between her panting gasps as he rose behind her, towering once more. His chest pressed to her back, hot and slick, his cock sliding easily up between her cheeks, settling heavy and throbbing against the small of her back. The head rested just above her tailbone, thick and veined, slick with leftover spit and pre, smearing along her spine with the slow grind of his hips.

Hinata’s body flinched slightly at the contact, but she didn’t move away—her strength was gone, hips still trembling, inner walls pulsing with aftershocks. Her arms were barely holding her up, palms flat on the counter’s edge, shoulders slumped in the aftermath. Her eyes blinked open slowly, dazed, and caught her reflection once more.

The woman in the mirror barely looked like her.

Her skin was flushed deep pink, glowing with the heat of climax and arousal. Droplets of water still clung to her indigo hair, strands plastered to her face and collarbone. Her lips were parted in a lingering moan, saliva glistening at the corners, and her breasts hung heavily, still marked by streaks of cum trailing slowly down between them. Her eyes—wide, glassy, and shining with a haze of lust and shame—were the most changed of all.

Daiki leaned in slightly, his cock grinding slowly along the curve of her ass. His voice, low and thick with desire, broke the silence. “Damn, Hinata…” he murmured, smirking as his hands slid down to her hips, thumbs brushing over her soft, trembling skin. “I knew you had a nice rack, but this ass…” He gave a slow thrust, dragging his cock along the crevice, smearing more of himself against her. “Perfect. Just the right shape—soft enough to sink into, tight enough to grab.”

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against the side of her neck. “You were made for this. All that elegance, all that fake innocence… and now look at you.” One hand reached up and pushed aside a wet strand of hair to better see her face in the mirror. “Mouth open, tits messy, legs shaking. Face like you’re begging for cock, even if you don’t know it yet.” He tilted her chin ever so slightly with his fingers, making her watch herself. “This is who you really are, Hinata. And trust me—I'm just getting started.”

Daiki’s cock slid down from the small of Hinata’s back with a deliberate motion, the thick shaft dragging along the cleft of her ass before nestling firmly between her trembling thighs. His hands gripped her hips possessively, holding her steady as he tilted his hips forward, the head of his cock pressing flush against her slick, swollen folds. She jolted, gasping softly as the heat and weight of him kissed her entrance. Then he began to move—slow, shallow grinds that let the broad, pulsing crown drag up and down her slit, rubbing directly against her sensitive clit and parting her folds slightly with each pass.

The sensation was maddening—he was so close, his cockhead pushing and teasing with just enough pressure to threaten penetration, yet always pulling back before giving her more. Hinata’s breath caught in her throat every time he nudged forward, her knuckles whitening on the counter as her hips twitched reflexively. Wet sounds echoed between them, her arousal coating him completely, making every glide of his shaft a loud, messy taunt against her overheated flesh.

Then, just as the swollen head pressed again against her entrance, Daiki stopped.

With a low grunt, he stepped back half a pace, his cock sliding wetly down her folds before springing free, bobbing with a heavy twitch. Hinata whimpered at the loss of contact, her body still aching, still open. But she didn’t have time to question it before she heard the familiar click of his phone being picked up from the counter.

He brought it up and tapped the screen a few times, adjusting the camera, angling it from behind to frame her perfectly—bent over the counter, legs parted, skin flushed and glistening, her folds puffy and soaked from both climax and anticipation. His cock, thick and glistening, hovered just behind her, perfectly aligned with her entrance, the tip teasing her with its presence.

A smug chuckle escaped him as he began recording once more. “God damn…” he murmured, angling the shot to capture everything—her messy face in the mirror, her soaked pussy, his cock sliding teasingly along her folds. “Opportunities like this don’t come often. A slut like you ? Bent over, dripping, practically begging for cock?” He leaned in closer, making sure the mic caught every word. “I’m gonna make sure I remember every fucking second of this. Every twitch, every moan, every time you clench around me like you were made for it.” He rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance once more, slowly circling it against her soaked heat.

“Because sluts of your caliber?” he added with a low laugh. “They don’t just fall into your lap… but when they do, you make damn sure to capture the moment.”

Just as Daiki angled his cock once more, positioning the fat, swollen head against Hinata’s soaked entrance, the thick sound of her wet folds parting around him filled the bathroom in sticky, rhythmic squelches. Her body tensed beneath his grip, her thighs trembling as the sheer heat of him kissed her opening again—hot, slick, and demanding. Her breath hitched, chest pressed tightly to the counter, the weight of her own anticipation choking her as Daiki leaned forward, grinding just enough to make her lips part and her folds stretch obscenely around the blunt pressure of his cockhead. 

Then, without warning, the sound shattered. 

Click. The front door swung open with a loud clatter, echoing down the hallway. 

“Mom! I’m home—but only for a bit!” Boruto’s voice called out casually, bright and oblivious, his footsteps already padding across the wooden floor. 

Hinata froze. Completely. 

Her entire body went rigid, her head snapping up from where it hung in shame. In the mirror, her eyes widened with panic, mouth opening in silent horror, her breath caught in her throat. The remnants of her arousal and submission still clung to her body—her breasts still glistening with dried cum, her hair stuck to her cheeks, her pussy flushed, dripping, and fully exposed as Daiki’s cock hovered just behind her, poised and ready to claim her completely. Her reflection was that of a woman caught—ruined, submissive, and moments away from being fucked, with her son just down the hall. 

Daiki didn’t move. His smirk only grew wider, more wicked, as he glanced at her reflection and lowered the phone just enough to keep recording. The tip of his cock twitched against her entrance again, making her twitch in horror. 

“Ohhh,” he murmured, low and mocking, voice barely audible over the sound of Boruto rummaging through the kitchen. “Looks like we’ve got an audience nearby… You better stay quiet, Hinata.” 

The camera light kept blinking. His cock pressed just a little more. And Boruto’s voice called again. 

“I’m just grabbing my stuff—I’ll be out in ten!”

Daiki’s smirk twisted into something darker as Boruto’s voice echoed down the hallway—casual, oblivious, and completely irrelevant. The tension in the bathroom had turned suffocating, the steam now mixing with something far heavier: the thick silence of shame, and the thundering heartbeat pounding in Hinata’s ears. Her breath hitched, her fingers twitching against the edge of the marble countertop. 

But Daiki didn’t hesitate. He didn’t flinch. 

Instead, he lifted the phone in his right hand, positioning the camera directly behind Hinata’s parted thighs, perfectly angled to capture the moment in crisp, humiliating detail. Her folds glistened—flushed and swollen, twitching with the aftershocks of her last orgasm—just as the fat, slick head of his cock pressed against them, ready to force its way in. He adjusted the frame, then gave a smug, quiet chuckle as he tapped the screen. The red recording light blinked back to life. 

“Smile for the camera,” he murmured darkly, just inches from her ear. “This is the exact moment you stop being Naruto’s wife… and become my cumdump.” 

And then, without waiting, he pushed forward. 

The thick, heavy crown of his cock breached her entrance in one slow, brutal thrust. Her folds parted around him with a lewd, wet stretch, hugging the swollen head tightly before it finally slipped inside. The camera caught it all—how her pussy opened around the girth, how her thighs trembled, how her slickness coated his shaft as he pushed deeper. Hinata gasped, her moan barely restrained, but still loud enough to echo faintly against the tiled walls. 

“Ahhh—!” she whimpered, her voice soft but unmistakably pleasured, the shame in her eyes clashing with the way her body greedily sucked him in. 

From down the hall, Boruto called out again. “Mom? You okay?” 

Daiki didn’t stop. He didn’t slow. 

His hand gripped her hip tighter, cock buried halfway into her, and he leaned over her back, cock still stretching her wide as he brought his mouth close to her ear again. “Let him hear,” he whispered, phone still recording every inch sinking into her. “I’m not stopping. Not when you’re this fucking wet. Not when your son is right there and you’re still taking cock like it belongs in you.” 

And with that, he pushed deeper.

Daiki’s thrusts grew deeper, steadier, each one accompanied by the wet, unmistakable sound of his cock gliding in and out of Hinata’s soaked folds. Her pussy clung to him tightly, stretched to its limit, the slick walls fluttering with every deep plunge. Each movement forced soft, breathless moans from her lips—delicate and trembling, like the sound of a woman still trying, and failing, to hold onto her composure. Her voice broke with each gentle cry, the sweet, feminine sounds painting the air with a sensual vulnerability she could no longer mask.

“Ah… ahh… nn—Da… Daiki…” she gasped softly, her body rocking forward against the bathroom counter with each thrust, the cold marble a poor contrast to the heat flooding between her legs. Her hips trembled beneath his, quivering from the rhythm he was carving into her, the dull ache of being stretched only fueling the shameful pleasure rippling through her with every motion.

Daiki’s free hand slid up her back slowly, fingers splaying along the arch of her spine before curling into the damp strands of her indigo hair. With a swift, confident motion, he fisted it near the base of her neck, forming a makeshift ponytail and yanking her head back so she could see her reflection again. Her mouth hung open, cheeks flushed and sticky with streaks of dried cum, eyes wide and glassy as they locked with her own ruined reflection.

“Keep looking,” he growled behind her, his voice low and commanding, lips close to her ear. “Watch what you look like when I fuck you like you’ve always needed.”

Her soft, broken moans filled the bathroom again as he picked up the pace, hips slapping wetly against her backside, the sound almost masking the distant, growing footsteps just outside.

And then—

“Mom?” Boruto’s voice came again, closer this time. Muffled, but no longer far away. Right outside the bathroom door. “You sure you’re okay?”

Hinata’s eyes went wide with terror, her body tensing in Daiki’s grasp. Her moans caught in her throat, but her pussy only clenched tighter around his cock—betraying her, pulsing with involuntary arousal even as shame consumed her. Her lips parted to speak… but nothing came out. Only the sound of her trembling breath. Only the sound of Daiki’s cock plunging into her once more.

Hinata's body was trembling beneath the force of Daiki's thrusts—her hips rocking forward against the counter with each deep, deliberate stroke, her fingers gripping the marble surface until her knuckles turned white. The wet slap of his cock against her soaked folds echoed off the tiled walls, the obscene rhythm in stark contrast to the chaos storming behind her eyes. Her mind was torn between panic and overwhelming pleasure, caught in the cruel tug-of-war of sensation and shame.

Daiki’s grip in her hair tightened, pulling her head back just enough to force her to watch herself. Her reflection in the mirror was pure debasement—eyes glazed with confusion and desire, lips quivering and slick with saliva, face still stained with streaks of his earlier climax. Her chest bounced with every thrust, breasts swaying beneath her, nipples taut and flushed, and her thighs shook with each slap of his hips. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to form words, but the moans spilled out first—soft, trembling, each one laced with guilt and pleasure.

“Ah—nnnh… I… ahh—!” she whimpered, her voice fractured, high-pitched with effort as Daiki's cock pushed deep again, forcing a sharp gasp from her lungs. Her body jolted, clenching tight around him, her inner muscles betraying her with every quiver and pulse.

Outside the door, Boruto's voice came again, closer, more concerned.

"Mom? You okay? You’ve been in there a while..."

Hinata’s heart lurched, terror gripping her—but Daiki didn’t stop. He ground deeper, slower for just a moment, the head of his cock pressing against her deepest wall as if to remind her who was really in control.

With her face flushed and lips trembling, she finally forced out a reply between staggered breaths, her voice barely audible over the sound of running water and slick flesh.

“Y-Yes, sweetie… I… I’m fine…” she managed, voice soft and shaky, her breath hitching mid-sentence as Daiki gave an extra-deep thrust that forced her to choke on the last word. “I-I’ll be out… soon…”

Boruto paused on the other side, then called back, “Okay! Just checking!”

The sound of his footsteps retreating slowly down the hallway was a momentary relief—but in the mirror, Daiki’s smirk returned with full force, his eyes locked on hers.

And his thrusts didn’t stop.

From just beyond the bathroom door, the sound of Boruto’s voice called out again, cheerful and casual—completely unaware of the depravity unfolding just feet away. “Alright, I’m heading out now!” he shouted, the shuffle of his feet and rustling of his gear echoing faintly down the hall. “Probably won’t be back until late!”

Hinata’s entire body was a battlefield of tension. Her knuckles were still white against the edge of the marble counter, shoulders trembling beneath Daiki’s grip, and her thighs quivered with every precise, relentless thrust of his cock inside her. He was moving at a steady pace now—deep, slow strokes that dragged every inch of his thick shaft along her soaked walls, making her feel every vein, every pulse, every deliberate grind of his hips against her ass. The obscene sound of skin meeting skin filled the space, only occasionally muffled by the hiss of the still-running shower.

Her mouth was open, lips trembling as she struggled to contain the sounds rising in her throat. She bit down on her bottom lip, hard—so hard it nearly drew blood—trying desperately to muffle the breathy moans that escaped her with each thrust. But they came anyway. Soft, involuntary, desperate.

“Ahh… nnngh—”

“Mmmh… d-don’t—ohh…”

Each time Daiki buried himself deep inside her, she let out another trembling sound, her efforts to stay silent shattered by the unbearable pressure building in her core. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat and water dripping from her breasts as they bounced lightly with the motion, the mirror reflecting every subtle flinch of shame across her face.

Daiki leaned in over her back, breath hot against her ear, one hand still gripping the makeshift ponytail of her damp indigo hair. “You’re not even trying to be quiet anymore,” he murmured smugly, his voice a low, teasing growl. “What if he turns around? Comes back in? You gonna let him hear how wet you are for me?”

Hinata squeezed her eyes shut, another moan spilling out as he drove deep once again—her body betraying her, her pussy fluttering around him with every slow drag out, every wet slap back in. Her lips moved in silent panic, mouthing no even as the pleasure made her walls pulse eagerly around the girth of his cock.

And from down the hall, Boruto’s voice faded with the creak of the front door.

“Love you, Mom!”

Hinata’s breath hitched—and another moan slipped free, high and trembling, as Daiki’s cock pushed deeper still, claiming her inch by inch.

Hinata’s ears barely registered the soft thud of her son’s footsteps darting down the stairs, each step echoing dully over the sound of her own ragged breaths. The distant clack of the front door swinging open, followed by the sharper click of it closing, signaled his full departure. The final line of fragile safety—gone. 

And Daiki felt it. The moment Boruto left the house, Daiki’s composure cracked into something more primal. His grip on Hinata’s hair tightened sharply, the slick strands of her indigo locks wound tightly around his fist like reins. He yanked back hard, arching her spine until her chest lifted from the counter and her face was fully visible in the mirror—flushed crimson, mouth slack with pleasure and desperation, pupils dilated and rimmed with glassy tears. Her breasts hung heavy and sticky, still streaked with the faint trails of his previous climax, trembling with each ragged breath. 

“That’s more like it,” Daiki growled, his voice low, thick with lust. “No more interruptions. No more holding back.” 

With his other hand, he angled the phone again—steadier now—aiming it directly between her thighs. The frame was perfect. Her spread legs, her soaked folds stretched obscenely around his cock, and every glistening, squelching thrust captured in vivid, humiliating detail. The red recording light blinked mercilessly, documenting each moment with crisp clarity: the way her pussy clung to him, the creamy sheen left behind as he pulled out only to slam back in, deeper, harder. 

Daiki’s hips pistoned with purpose now, full force behind every thrust. His cock plunged into her wet heat with slick, wet slaps , the sound echoing through the foggy bathroom. Her ass rippled with each impact, soft flesh catching his pelvis again and again, the lewd rhythm impossible to ignore. Her inner walls clenched around him wildly, her body reacting even as her mind screamed for control she no longer possessed. 

“F-fuck… ahh—ahhh!” Hinata moaned, her voice rising uncontrollably with each punishing stroke. Her hips rocked forward with every thrust, trying to brace against the counter, but he just yanked her hair tighter, using it like a handle to keep her arched and vulnerable. The position made her feel completely exposed—face flushed in the mirror, her pussy being used, fucked raw while the camera watched like a silent judge. 

Daiki leaned in close, voice heavy in her ear. “Every. Single. Inch,” he growled, emphasizing each word with a brutal thrust that made her legs buckle. “You feel that? The camera sees it. So does the mirror. And so do you. ” 

Hinata moaned again—raw, broken, and unmistakably pleasured. Her eyes locked onto her reflection, unable to look away, as her body quivered under Daiki’s relentless, unforgiving rhythm.

Daiki’s rhythm turned savage—relentless. It was no longer just lust fueling his movements; it was something deeper, darker. Each thrust slammed into Hinata with punishing force, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing like thunder in the tight, steamy space. His cock drove into her soaked, trembling core with merciless precision, stretching her, reshaping her with every violent plunge. Her pussy gripped him like a vice, soaking wet, clenching desperately around his cock even as her body was rocked forward against the counter again and again. Every stroke felt like an invasion, each deeper than the last, and it was destroying her—breaking her down into something Daiki couldn’t stop chasing.

He wasn’t just fucking her.

He was using her.

Daiki’s face twisted into a scowl as he looked down at her ruined form, eyes burning with unspoken resentment, lips curling with cruel satisfaction. With a grunt, he reached for the phone again, holding it in front of them for just a moment—getting a perfect shot of his cock pistoning in and out of her soaked folds before he slammed it back onto the counter at an angle, letting it record from the side. It caught everything: her tits bouncing wildly with each thrust, the cum-slick curve of her ass slamming into his groin, her face reflected in the mirror—flushed, glassy-eyed, slack with pleasure and shame.

“Bet Boruto wouldn’t believe it if he saw this,” Daiki growled, voice venomous with every thrust, his words ragged between heavy breaths. “His proud, perfect mother… bent over like a bitch in heat—moaning for the guy who used to beat the shit out of him in class.”

He yanked her hair harder, arching her back to the brink, forcing her to look into the mirror again. Her moans came in soft, broken waves, lips parted, her voice trembling with every brutal slap of his hips.

“You think I forgot how many times he tried to act better than me? That smug little look he always had—like his mom and dad made him untouchable?” His hand slammed down on her hip, holding her in place as he drove forward again with bone-deep force, making her entire body jolt. “This is payback,” he hissed, “and your body’s the payment.”

Hinata could barely respond—her voice lost beneath the breathless gasps that slipped from her lips each time he bottomed out. Her pussy throbbed wildly around him, her legs shaking, and her reflection in the mirror told the truth her mouth couldn’t: she was falling apart under the weight of his fury, and it was working. He was absolutely ruining her.

And Daiki knew it.

Every ounce of his strength, every grudge he’d held onto, was now buried in the force of his thrusts, slamming into her without mercy, without pause. He braced himself, muscles tensing as his hips continued to drive forward, as though determined to leave her body molded to the shape of his cock.

And all the while, the camera kept rolling.

Daiki leaned in over Hinata’s back, his chest pressing against her spine as his cock drove deep, again and again, without mercy. Her body rocked beneath him, hands spread against the slick marble counter, legs trembling violently with every impact. Her ass met his groin in rhythmic, wet slaps, and her pussy—stretched and dripping—sucked at his cock like it never wanted to let go. Each thrust was a brutal claim, every inch hammering her deeper into a haze of raw pleasure and humiliation.

His breath ghosted against her ear as he spoke, voice low, mocking, and dripping with cruel satisfaction. “Wonder what Naruto would say,” he whispered possessively, his hips not stopping for a second. “Seeing his precious wife like this… bent over, dripping, moaning like a whore while some punk from his kid’s academy class wrecks her from behind.”

Hinata whimpered, her head shaking weakly, but the sound that escaped her throat was anything but denial.

“A-Ahh… ahhh—Daiki… I… I c-can’t…” Her voice cracked with a sob, but the soft moans that followed were laced with a twisted, breathless pleasure. Her thighs shook as another wet squelch echoed through the bathroom, her pussy clenching tight around him with each thrust, as if her own body refused to let him go.

“Oh, but you can, ” he snarled, his hand tightening in her hair, tugging it back so she couldn’t look away from the mirror. “You are. You’re taking it. So fucking well. Look at you—Naruto’s loyal little wife, so full of me you can barely stand.”

Hinata’s eyes were wide in the reflection, glassy and shimmering with tears, but her mouth was open now—no longer resisting, but surrendering. Her moans grew louder, sweeter, more wanton with every thrust, each one building into a breathless cry of broken desire.

“Ahh—ahhhn! D-Don’t… st-stop, I… I c-can’t s-stop…!” she moaned helplessly, her voice lost in the pounding rhythm of Daiki’s cock slamming into her soaked, overstimulated pussy. Her breasts bounced beneath her, the mirror catching every shame-soaked detail—her mouth slack, her hips rolling now to meet each thrust, her body welcoming him.

Daiki’s grin widened as he watched her crumble completely beneath him. “That’s it,” he growled. “Fucking admit it. Your cunt was wasted on that loser. It was always mine. You were meant to be used like this.”

Her cries filled the room now, unrestrained and needy, her slick body convulsing beneath his with every stroke. And Daiki—cock buried deep, thrusts still relentless, degrading words pouring from his lips—knew she was his now. Her moans were the proof.

Daiki’s rhythm became animalistic—no longer measured, no longer teasing. The slick, obscene sounds of their bodies colliding echoed louder than ever through the steamy bathroom, each thrust harder, faster, and deeper than the last. His cock hammered into Hinata’s soaked, trembling folds with punishing force, the wet slap of skin against skin mixing with her rising cries. Her pussy clenched wildly around him now, her slickness making every stroke feel impossibly wet and intense, his length dragging along her sensitive inner walls like it had been carved just to ruin her.

With a final tug, Daiki released her indigo locks from his fist, letting her hair fall like a soaked curtain around her flushed, bouncing shoulders. His hands immediately shifted, gripping her tightly just below her collarbones, fingers digging into the soft, sweat-slicked flesh of her upper arms. He pulled her back into him with every thrust, using her body like a sheath, like a toy built for no other purpose than to be pounded into submission. The new leverage gave him deeper access—his cock slamming home with brutal precision, her thighs trembling violently as she tried to hold herself upright.

Hinata’s voice rose, high and desperate, each moan now laced with something more than shame—something that tasted like surrender.

“A-Ahhh—Daiki! I—I can’t—! I-it’s too… ahhhnn!”

Her words devolved into a wail as her body seized in his grasp. Her back arched hard, her spine curving beautifully as she was forced to ride the crashing wave overtaking her. Her inner walls clamped down on him like a vice, milking his cock with desperate pulses as her climax hit her like a surge of lightning. Her hands scrambled across the countertop, searching for something— anything —to ground her, her fingers slipping uselessly against the marble. Her eyes fluttered open wide, then fluttered shut again, lashes trembling as she gave a soft, shattered cry of pleasure.

Her entire body shook—thighs spasming, hips jerking, her pussy convulsing around him with rhythmic, fluttering tightness that spilled even more of her juices down her legs. Her breasts bounced with every shallow thrust he continued to deliver through her orgasm, full and heaving, nipples stiff and tinged a deep pink from the heat and friction. Her face in the mirror was nearly unrecognizable—glazed eyes, parted lips, cheeks flushed and glowing, every inch of her soaked in lust and satisfaction.

And Daiki watched it all.

Smirking, sweat trailing down his own neck, hands gripping her tighter as he thrust through her orgasm, savoring the way her body broke around him—how she no longer resisted, how she now welcomed everything he gave.

Daiki’s pace grew erratic—deeper, rougher, driven by raw need and the overwhelming tightness of Hinata’s pussy still fluttering around him from her climax. His breath came in ragged pants, hips slamming forward with a desperate urgency now. Every inch of his cock was coated in her slick arousal, her body having completely yielded to him, wrapped around him like it belonged to him. The tight, wet heat sucked at him with each thrust, urging his release closer, demanding it.

Sweat rolled down his back, his hands gripping her shoulders so tightly his knuckles whitened. Her soft body rocked against him, every bounce of her ass driving him deeper, every clench of her walls making his breath catch.

“Fuck—Hinata…” he groaned, his voice guttural, primal, his control slipping with each pulse of pleasure rising in his gut. “I’m gonna fill you up… stuff you full of my cum…”

Hinata’s eyes widened in the mirror, her mouth opening to respond, her voice dazed and fragile. “N-No… D-Daiki, you can’t—!” But her protest came too late, the words breathless and crumbling under the intensity of what her body had just endured.

With a final, brutal thrust, Daiki buried himself to the hilt inside her, his cock twitching violently as the flood came.

“Ahhh—f-fuckkk…”

He groaned through clenched teeth, his body jerking against hers as the first thick surge of cum erupted from him, blasting deep into her womb. His cock pulsed hard inside her, throbbing again and again as he unloaded with reckless intensity—hot, heavy ropes of seed flooding her already sensitive core. The sheer volume of it was staggering, forcing its way into every inch of her, thick and molten, coating her walls and pooling deep inside. A wet squelch echoed as her overstimulated pussy squeezed him involuntarily, forcing some of his release to spill out, dribbling in slow, creamy streams around his shaft and down her trembling thighs.

Hinata gasped sharply, her lips trembling as her head dropped forward, indigo hair cascading down like a curtain. Her inner walls pulsed helplessly, greedily milking every drop, even as the thick warmth of his climax began to ooze out around the base of his cock.

She couldn’t speak—her voice had abandoned her completely.

Exhausted, breathless, and trembling, she felt her knees begin to give out. Daiki’s strong arms wrapped around her waist, steadying her for a moment as she leaned back against his chest, her heart pounding against her ribs. Her face remained lowered, eyes half-lidded, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as shame warred with the afterglow of devastating, undeniable satisfaction.

Her pussy, still stretched wide and slowly leaking, continued to pulse faintly—marked, bred, and undeniably filled.

Daiki’s chest rose and fell against Hinata’s back, his breath still ragged from the intensity of release. Her body was trembling beneath him, flush with heat and soaked in sweat, her back arching gently with each shallow breath. Her eyes remained fixed on the mirror—glazed, distant, her mouth slightly agape, lips trembling in the aftermath of being completely claimed. Her face was the portrait of exhaustion, shame, and a reluctant, overwhelming satisfaction that clung to her like the sweat dripping from her brow.

Daiki released his grip on her shoulders, reaching forward to grab his phone from the counter. The red recording light blinked steadily, still capturing everything, but he stopped the video—only to switch it immediately to photo mode. He stepped slightly back, angling the camera at her flushed face, still framed perfectly in the mirror. Click.

Her expression—half-lidded eyes, streaks of dried cum on her cheek and chest, the way her lower lip quivered as she panted—was immortalized in a single image. A woman dazed, ruined, and owned.

“Perfect,” Daiki murmured with a crooked smirk, then lowered the camera. He stepped back further, positioning the phone to capture the real moment he wanted. Her legs were still trembling, spread slightly, her glistening folds stretched wide from the brutal pounding she had taken. His cock, still twitching and glistening with a mix of slick and seed, was buried to the base inside her one last time.

“Let’s get a proper finish…” he muttered to himself.

With a slow, steady pull, he began to withdraw.

The head of his cock dragged from her soaking pussy, and the moment it slipped free with a slick, obscene sound, a gush of thick, white cum spilled from her—like a dam breaking. The camera caught every detail: the first rope of seed oozing from her stretched entrance, followed by a messy, continuous stream that splashed down the insides of her thighs, dripping onto the tile below in sticky, uneven globs. Her pussy spasmed softly, fluttering as more of his load dribbled out, unable to hold the sheer amount he’d poured into her.

“Look at that,” Daiki whispered behind the camera, watching the feed live on his screen. “Can’t even hold it all.” His cock gave a lazy twitch as he hovered the lens over her leaking core, the wet sounds of her ruined folds still faintly audible as her body reacted to the loss of fullness.

He chuckled, stepping in closer, lowering the phone slightly to capture the sticky mess trailing from his cock to the drooling lips of her pussy. “And to think…” he added, his voice lower, more possessive now. “You’ve still got plenty of orgasms left to rip out of me.”

The recording resumed—blinking red, capturing everything.

And Hinata, breathless and dazed, remained still… the mess of their union dripping from her, marked by the truth her body could no longer deny.

Hinata remained slumped against the bathroom counter, her body trembling with the aftershocks of what had just been done to her. Her chest pressed to the cool marble, now smeared with sweat, cum, and condensation from the lingering steam, offered no comfort—only a stark contrast to the overwhelming heat radiating from her flushed skin. Her legs were still spread, weak and trembling, a thick mixture of Daiki’s seed slowly dripping from between her folds, trailing in lazy, wet rivulets down the insides of her thighs. Her arms barely supported her, fingers twitching slightly as she panted, dazed and silently trying to process the chaos left in the wake of his touch.

Behind her, the rustle of clothing broke the silence.

Daiki pulled his pants up leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world. The wet slap of his cock against his thigh as he tucked it away was audible, and he didn’t bother hiding the satisfied grunt that followed. He looked down at Hinata, still bare, still leaking, still not moving—just breathing hard, her hair falling over her shoulders in damp, tangled strands. Her reflection stared back at him from the mirror, dazed and pink-faced, lips still parted from all the breathless moans she could no longer deny.

“You know…” he began, voice smug and unhurried as he buttoned up, “I’ve got a hundred more ways I want to fuck you. Could bend you over the dining table next time. Maybe in your own bed— his bed.” He stepped forward, reaching out to drag a finger down the curve of her ass, tracing the lingering mess between her thighs with casual arrogance. “Or maybe I’ll have you ride me on the living room couch. Face the door. See if you can make me cum before anyone shows up.”

Hinata whimpered softly, her breath hitching again as she squeezed her thighs shut instinctively—but it was too late. Her pussy still throbbed faintly, dripping another lazy stream of his cum onto the tile between her feet. Her face turned to the side, hiding partially in her hair, but Daiki saw the color blooming again on her cheeks.

“I-I… y-you c-can’t…” she stammered, her voice soft and cracked, thick with shame. “T-That was… j-just this one t-time…”

Daiki leaned down, still shirtless, his breath brushing hot against Hinata’s ear as his fingers lazily trailed down the curve of her spine. She flinched, more from the intimacy than the contact, her trembling body still bent over the counter, barely able to hold itself up. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and her eyes fluttered shut, unable to face her own reflection any longer. The thick, slow drip of his release still slid down her inner thighs, a visible reminder of what she’d let happen.

He smirked, watching her shift slightly, trying to close her legs despite her exhaustion. "You know," he murmured, voice low and smug, "every time I cum inside you, I delete one of those pictures. Every single orgasm I have because of this body…" He traced his finger down to her thigh, scooping up a strand of the creamy mess smeared across her skin, then wiped it along the swell of her ass like he was painting a brand. “…another video gone.”

Hinata’s lips parted slightly, and a weak, mortified breath escaped her.

"So if you really want that phone clean," he continued, gripping her hip for emphasis, "you better be ready to help me empty every single one ."

Her head turned just slightly, her cheek resting against her arm, and through her tangled hair, he saw the flush deepening across her face. Her voice was soft, barely audible over the faint patter of water still dripping from the shower. “T-That wasn’t… p-part of the deal…” she said shakily, the heat in her voice betraying the conflicted storm brewing inside her—fear, shame, and something far more dangerous.

Daiki chuckled darkly, pulling his shirt over his head as he looked down at her used, glistening body, still folded over the counter like an offering. “Sure it was,” he said, his tone mockingly casual. “Every orgasm earns you a little redemption.”

He reached for his phone again, tilting it ever so slightly to catch her reflection one last time—flushed cheeks, parted lips, sweat-slick skin still glowing in the aftermath. Her eyes briefly met his in the mirror before she quickly looked away, biting down on her trembling lower lip.

“You better pace yourself, Hinata,” he added with a crooked smile as he slipped his phone into his pocket. “I’ve got a lot of data to delete.”

Daiki stood at the doorway, fully dressed now, his presence still filling the foggy bathroom like a heavy shadow that refused to lift. Behind him, Hinata remained draped over the counter—still bare, still dripping, her flushed body trembling with exhaustion and shame. Her breasts hung heavily, marked with fading streaks of dried cum, her thighs slick with the thick mess steadily oozing from her stretched, overfilled pussy. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and steam… and the reality of what had just happened.

He paused for a moment, hand on the doorknob, and cast one final look over his shoulder—gaze lingering on her ruined form, her damp hair plastered to her cheeks, her body still twitching softly in the aftermath.

“Hmm…” he mused aloud, lips curling into a smirk. “I wonder what’s gonna happen first.”

His voice dropped into a slow, taunting rhythm, each word deliberate. “Will you actually manage to make me delete every picture… every video …” He chuckled, glancing down at the faint bulge already reforming beneath his zipper. “Or will you break first and admit you love this? Admit you’d rather be my obedient little cum dump?”

The words hit her like a punch to the chest. Her face flushed darker, her legs instinctively squeezing shut even as his release still dripped between them.

For a moment, she didn’t answer.

But then—her lips parted. Her voice was soft. Shaky. But real.

“…I-I’ll try,” she whispered, not daring to lift her head. Her hands curled into the towel beneath her chest, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “I’ll… earn them back…”

Daiki’s grin widened.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, stepping out of the room with lazy confidence. “You’d better hurry though, Hinata…”

His voice faded as he walked down the hall.

“I take a lot of pictures.”

And the door clicked shut behind him, leaving her there—breathless, broken, and already questioning whether she’d lost more than just her dignity.

Hi Everyone let me know if you would like to see future chapters of this story. And if it should just stay Hinata or bring in other women. Please let me know. Also let me know your thoughts on stories like this, if you enjoy the longer or shorter format stories.