Sorceress Servant's Naughty Lesson

I (Fidelia) am a strong jujutsu sorcerer in the Jujutsu Kaisen Universe, with my own technique and domain expansion. But for various reasons I am currently serving as a maid at the Zen'in Clan estate. The clan leader's misogynistic bratty arrogant son Naoya Zen'in happens to find me in my servant's quarters room and decides to enter only to see me pleasuring myself. Initially confused internally as he didn't know women could enjoy sexual pleasure genuinely. He gets sexist and misogynic with me until I challenge him. I tell him he doesn't know what he's missing out on, feeling a pussy orgasm around his cock squeezing it, and that he'd have to actually have a woman enjoy him for that to occur. This leads to him pinning me to the bed and growling his own challenge back that if I want to test how good he can make a woman feel he's happy to show me, sliding his cock along my entrance. I tell him to go for it. He plunges into my overflowing and dripping cunt, his eyes lighting up in sheer pleasure. Saying it's so fucking wet and tight, he groans in pleasure. I encourage his more sexist tendencies because they get me off. I tell him to fuck my slutty cunt, to breed me like the cock-drunk whore I am. He growls and fucks me harder and rougher, smirking arrogantly, and calling me vulgar names in return. I smirk back while holding his gaze, never backing down, meeting each thrust of his cock with a roll of my hips, and continuing to degrade myself for him and for myself as the more I do it the closer I can see him getting to cumming. Once neither of us can take it anymore, he feels my vaginal wall clench around him like a wet hot vice, milking his own orgasm out of him, he thrust hard and deep, burying himself deeply into my plush convulsing cunt and filling me with his hot load. We collapse together with him resting his head on my chest and I chuckle saying that is what I meant by what you were missing out on. He huffs a laugh and says it was the best pussy he ever had.

The door to Fidelia’s cramped servant’s quarters clicked open without warning. She didn’t even pause, fingers still working between her thighs, back arched against the thin mattress. Naoya Zen’in stood frozen in the doorway, gaze locked on the slick glide of her fingers, the way her cunt pulsed around nothing. "Disgusting," he spat, but his voice lacked its usual bite. Confusion flickered across his face—like he couldn’t reconcile the pleasure twisting her expression with whatever twisted shit he believed about women. Fidelia smirked, dragging a slow, wet circle over her clit. "What’s the matter, *prince*? Didn’t think we could actually *enjoy* it?" His jaw tightened. "You’re just a servant. A warm hole, nothing more." "Oh?" She spread her legs wider, letting him see the glisten of her arousal. "Then why are you still here? Unless…" Her tongue flicked over her lower lip. "You’re curious what it feels like when a woman *comes* on your cock instead of just tolerating it." Naoya’s eyes darkened. In three strides, he was on her, pinning her wrists to the bed. "You’re awfully cocky for a bitch who’s about to get fucked senseless." She bucked her hips up, grinding her soaked cunt against the hard line of his erection through his hakama. "Prove me wrong, then." With a snarl, he tore his clothes free and slammed into her. The stretch burned—god, he was *thick*—but she moaned, wrapping her legs around his hips. "Fuck, yes! Show me how a *real* man fucks his little whore." Naoya’s breath hitched. "Fuck, you’re tight—so *fucking* wet—" "Deeper," she demanded, nails raking down his back. "Come on, breed me like the desperate slut I am!" His hips pistoned, each thrust sharper, harder. She met him stroke for stroke, clenching around him just to hear him groan. When he came, it was with her name gritted between his teeth, her own orgasm wringing every last drop from him. Panting, he collapsed against her. Fidelia grinned. "Told you you’d like it." Naoya huffed, still buried inside her. "Shut up." But his arms tightened around her anyway.

Naoya's thoughts had been a storm of disgust and disbelief—until she *moved*. The wet, obscene sound of her fingers plunging into her own cunt short-circuited his usual arrogance. *Women don’t—they can’t—* But her moan, raw and unfiltered, shattered that lie. His cock twitched, betraying him. Then she *dared* him. The moment he sank into her, his brain blanked. Heat, slickness, a vise-like grip that made his knees weak. *Fuck. Fuck.* Every thrust pulled another broken sound from her, and the way her hips met his—like she couldn’t get enough, like she *needed* it—drove him feral. Her taunts, filthy and mocking, only made him fuck her harder. *"Breed me."* His balls tightened instantly. Worst of all? She *won*. The second her cunt clamped down, milking him, he lost control completely—shot his load so deep he saw stars. Humiliating. Addicting. Now, still buried in her, he hates how right she was. Hates how good it felt. Hates that he’s already thinking about doing it again. *Damn her.*

I chuckled as his head rests on my chest and speak in a silky sultry voice "I am going to fuck the misogyny right out of you, Naoya, and you'll learn just how good it feels to actually see women as people. Fight it, run from it, you've been watching me for months now and after experiencing that, I know I got you hooked. So, wanna go again?"

Fidelia chuckled as his head rested on her chest, fingers tracing idle circles along his sweat-dampened back. Her voice was silk and smoke when she spoke. *"I am going to fuck the misogyny right out of you, Naoya, and you'll learn just how good it feels to actually see women as people."* She felt the tension coil in his shoulders, his breath hitching against her skin. *"Fight it, run from it, you've been watching me for months now. And after *that*?"* She rolled her hips, still stretched around him, and grinned at his sharp inhale. *"I know I've got you hooked."* Naoya growled, lifting his head to glare at her—but his cock, still half-hard inside her, twitched in immediate betrayal. *"Shut your mouth,"* he snarled, but his hands were already gripping her waist, dragging her closer. Fidelia laughed, low and triumphant. *"Or what? You'll fuck me again?"* She arched, squeezing around him deliberately. *"Go on, then. Show me how angry you *really*—*"* He cut her off with a brutal kiss, flipping her onto her stomach before she could finish. His palm pressed between her shoulder blades, pinning her down as he slid back in with a groan. *"You talk too much,"* he muttered—but his thrusts were already losing rhythm, hips stuttering like he couldn’t decide between punishing her and losing himself in her all over again.

Naoya’s thoughts were a jagged mess of fury and hunger—every ragged breath she took beneath him, every slick clench of her cunt dragging him deeper, only fed the contradiction tearing him apart. *This shouldn’t feel this good.* Yet his body refused to obey logic, his cock swelling full again inside her, each thrust sparking a fresh wave of shameful pleasure. Her taunts echoed in his skull. *Fuck the misogyny out of him?* As if he hadn’t spent his life certain of his superiority—until her. Until *this*. The way she arched into him, like she owned him, like his desperation was hers to wield. Worse, she *did*. His fingers dug into her hips hard enough to bruise, but the choked moan it ripped from her only made his pulse roar louder. *Disgusting. Perfect.* He wanted to hate her. Wanted to make her regret ever challenging him. But all he could think was how her walls fluttered around him, greedy, *needy*, like she’d been made to ruin him. And god help him, he was *letting her*.

Naoya’s grip tightened as he drove into her harder, each snap of his hips deliberate, punishing—except the ragged groan spilling from his lips betrayed him entirely. The slick heat of her was maddening, her body taking him deeper with every thrust, and the mocking little gasps she made were designed to unravel him. “Still fighting it?” Fidelia taunted, her voice thick with satisfaction. She arched her back, pressing her ass against him, forcing him even deeper. “Your cock says otherwise.” A growl tore from his throat. He dragged her up by the hair, exposing the delicate curve of her neck, and bit down—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to hear her breath hitch. The taste of salt and sweat bloomed on his tongue, and it was filthy, intoxicating. “You want me to *stop* fighting?” he snarled, flipping her onto her back again, pinning her wrists beside her head. His cock throbbed inside her, her cunt clenching around him like she was trying to milk every drop from him already. He didn’t give her the satisfaction of fucking her properly—just ground deep, slow, watching her thighs tremble. Her laugh was breathless. “Prove me right.” His control snapped. He slammed into her, fingers bruising, hips pistoning, until her taunts dissolved into helpless, shuddering moans. And the sickest part? He *wanted* her to win.

Fidelia’s breath hitched as Naoya’s thrusts turned relentless, her nails digging into his shoulders. “*Naoya—*” His name tore from her lips, raw and unfiltered, stripped of its usual mocking edge. “God, just like that—*harder.*” Her sincerity hit him like a punch to the gut. No taunts, no games—just pure, shuddering need. He growled, dragging her hips up to meet his next brutal stroke, and she cried out, back arching off the bed. “You sound so fucking pathetic,” he muttered, but the words lacked their usual venom. His fingers tightened on her thighs, thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin of her inner legs just to hear her whimper. “But you *love it*,” she gasped, writhing beneath him, her walls fluttering around his cock in uneven pulses. She licked her lips, eyes glassy with pleasure. “You love making me *beg.*” Naoya’s rhythm faltered—just for a second—before he caught himself. He couldn’t deny it. The way she came apart for him, the way his name sounded in her mouth like a prayer—it was fucking *ruining* him. He leaned down, teeth grazing her collarbone. “Then beg *louder*.”

As he fucks her to their peak, she does moan and scream his name, gasping in a way that can't be faked. He can feel her cunt gripping and milking him, even he lets out a breathless moan at the pure ecstasy of her hot silken walls sloppy wet and tight around him, until finally they both reached their orgasms and cum powerfully while their eyes are locked, a glimmer of something deeper than lust present. Make it long and detailed

Fidelia’s moans rose higher, unrestrained, her thighs clamping around his hips as she neared the edge. Each thrust dragged a desperate noise from her throat—*Naoya, Naoya*—until the syllables blurred into one broken chant. Her cunt pulsed around him, wet and clenching, the heat of her almost unbearable. He couldn’t hold back anymore. Every snap of his hips sent her arching beneath him, her nails raking down his back as she gasped, *“Fuck, I’m—*” Her orgasm hit like a storm. Her walls fluttered wildly, gripping him with brutal force, and the sound she made—ragged, shameless—sent him hurtling over the edge with her. His rhythm shattered. He slammed into her one last time, deep, burying himself to the hilt as his release tore through him. Pleasure burned white-hot, his cock twitching inside her, spilling thick and heavy as her body milked him dry. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The air was thick with sweat and sex, their breath mingling in the scant space between them. Naoya’s fingers loosened on her wrists, but he didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Fidelia’s eyes—usually sharp with defiance—were dark, unfocused. A strand of hair clung to her damp forehead, her lips parted as she panted. She didn’t speak. Didn’t smirk. Just stared up at him like she was seeing something new. And fuck if that didn’t unsettle him more than anything else. Slowly, he dragged his thumb over her lower lip, smearing the bite of her own teeth there. The silence stretched, thick with something he refused to name. Then she exhaled, a whisper. *"Again."*

The next round subtly shifts from raw fucking to something more deeper, Fidelia kisses Naoya, deeply, passionately, caressing his face gently, and he moves back to let her ride him to another shared climax, the last one as she collapses on his chest with him inside her, looking up at him with genuine joy and gratitude, no fear or mockery.

Naoya stiffened when her lips met his—soft, insistent, *different*. No teasing nip, no sharp bite. Just warmth, slow and searching. His hands, still gripping her waist, hesitated before sliding up her sweat-slicked sides. She pulled back just enough to murmur against his mouth, “Let me,” before pushing him onto his back. The shift was effortless—her thighs tightened around his hips as she took him in, sinking down with a low sigh. Her fingers traced the sharp angles of his jaw, his cheekbones, like she was memorizing him. The rhythm was slower now, deep rolls of her hips that dragged his cock along every inch of her, each movement deliberate. Her breath hitched when he cupped her breast, thumb brushing her nipple, but she didn’t rush. Her lips found his again—hungrier this time, but still tender. He groaned into her mouth, hands roaming her back, her ass, pulling her impossibly closer. The pace built gradually, her body trembling as she took him deeper with each rise and fall. When she came, it was with a shuddering gasp, her forehead pressed to his. He followed instantly, spilling inside her with a growl, hips jerking up to meet her as she clenched around him. Collapsed against his chest, breathless, she didn’t move—just nuzzled into the crook of his neck, his cock still buried inside her. He could feel her smile against his skin. No words. Just quiet, and the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.

Naoya’s fingers tangled in her hair—gentler than he’d ever been with anyone—as the realization settled in his chest like a weight. *This* was what she’d meant. Not just the fucking, not just the fight, but the stillness after. The way her warmth seeped into him, the way her breath evened out against his skin, as if she trusted him enough to let go completely. His thumb traced the curve of her spine, feeling the flutter of her pulse where it pressed against his. She shifted slightly, her thigh hitching higher over his hip, keeping him snug inside her, still half-hard. No one had ever stayed like this with him. No one had ever *wanted* to. Fidelia made a soft noise, nosing along his collarbone, her lips grazing the bite mark she’d left earlier. His throat tightened. She wasn’t mocking him now, wasn’t pushing—just *there*, in a way that made his ribs ache. He exhaled slow, pressing his mouth to the crown of her head. The taste of salt, the faint scent of her sweat. No words. He didn’t need them anymore.

His voice was rough, quieter than he intended when it finally broke the silence. “Fuck.” Not an exclamation—just the only word that fit. Her laugh was muffled against his neck, warm and knowing. “Eloquent.” He grunted, tilting his head to catch her mouth again, slower this time. His fingers flexed against her hip, pressing her down as he rocked up lazily, still buried deep. She arched into it with a sigh, her nails dragging lightly down his chest. “Greedy.” “Yeah.” No denial. No point. His hands slid to her ass, kneading as he guided her into an easy rhythm—too slow to build toward anything urgent, just the drag of her around him, swollen and sensitive. Her breath hitched when his thumb found the wetness between them, circling where they were joined. “You—” He cut her off with a press of teeth to her lower lip. “Stay.” A demand, not a question. And when she nodded, grinding down harder, he knew she would.

[They go another round, this time with Naoya surprising himself with how much he genuinely wants to please her and how beautiful it is to see a woman enjoying herself in sex. He even says it out loud, admitting Fidelia was right and he never hated women, he didn't understand until now]

--- Her moan was his reward—low, throaty, as he rolled her onto her back without pulling out. His hands moved with purpose this time, mapping her body like he wanted to memorize every inch. Not just taking, not just claiming. *Giving.* Fidelia’s back bowed when his mouth found her nipple, tongue circling before he sucked hard enough to make her gasp. He’d never cared before if they came, never lingered like this, but now— “Fuck,” he muttered against her skin, watching her thighs tremble as he slid a hand between them. “You look…” *Beautiful.* The word stuck in his throat, but his fingers didn’t, working tight circles over her clit until her hips jerked. She laughed, breathless. “Didn’t peg you for a liar.” “Shut up.” He pressed deeper, dragging his cock against that spot that made her choke. “Not lying.” Her nails bit into his shoulders as she came, clenching around him so hard his vision blurred. And when he followed, groaning her name like a confession, it didn’t feel like defeat. It felt like fucking revelation.

Her body still hummed with aftershocks when Naoya collapsed beside her, chest heaving. He didn’t pull her close—didn’t pretend this was something tender—but his fingers traced idle patterns over her hip, rough pads catching on sweat-slick skin. Fidelia turned her head to look at him, lips curling. “You’re staring.” “Yeah.” No deflection. Just that single, stupidly honest syllable. She propped herself up on an elbow, studying him back. “Regret it yet?” His snort was almost a laugh. “Fuck no.” His thumb brushed her lower lip, lingering. “Just… didn’t expect it to be like that.” “Like what?” “Good.” The word came out gruff, but his hand slid into her hair, tugging gently. “You. *This*.” Fidelia’s smirk softened, just for a second. “Told you you’d like it.” Naoya rolled his eyes, but when she kissed him—slow, testing—he didn’t pull away. Just let her taste the truth on his tongue.

Fidelia: "Naoya, have you... hand meaningful sex before? Not to say I mean anything to you, I know I'm just a servant, but have you ever felt cared for or loved in this sense?"

Fidelia’s fingers traced the scar along his ribs—a habit now, when they were like this. “Naoya, have you… *had* meaningful sex before?” She kept her voice light, but the question lingered. “Not to say I mean anything to you. I know I’m just a servant. But have you ever felt cared for? *Loved* in this sense?” His jaw tightened, but he didn’t pull away. “No.” The word was stripped bare, raw in a way that surprised even him. His thumb stilled against her collarbone. “Not like this.” Fidelia exhaled, slow. “That’s sad.” “Don’t.” He caught her wrist, not hard, just enough to make her look at him. “I don’t need your pity.” “Not pity.” She shifted, pressing closer until her breath warmed his mouth. “Just… recognition.” Her lips brushed his, teasing. “You’re allowed to want things, you know.” Naoya’s grip tightened. “I want *you*.” “Mm.” She nipped his lower lip. “Prove it.” He rolled her beneath him in one sharp motion, but when he kissed her this time, it wasn’t rough. It was deliberate. *Hungry.* Like he was learning the shape of want for the first time.