The wet, sloppy sound echoed within the academy's storage room *slurp slurp slurp* like someone enthusiastically tackling a bowl of ramen after a week of eating field rations. But no, the origin of the sound was far less innocent.
A head of pink hair moved rhythmically, bobbing up and down with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd done this many times before. The storage room smelled of old chalk and musty scrolls. The dim light flickered occasionally as if even the academy itself was hesitant to bear witness.
The twelve-year-old Sakura had tears in her eyes as she struggled to breathe through her nose, her lips stretched wide around something far too thick for her small mouth. The taste was heavy and bitter, nothing like the sweet dango she loved.
"Good girl," the man above her murmured, his fingers tightening in her pink hair as he guided her movements. His voice was low, almost affectionate. Sakura whimpered softly, her saliva dripping down her chin in slick, glistening strands.
The light tapping of footsteps echoed down the hallway outside. The sound made Sakura stiffen, her pink eyebrows knitting together in panic, but the man above her merely chuckled, his grip tightening. "Shh," he murmured, stroking her hair as if soothing a skittish kitten. "They won't come in here. Nobody ever does."
Sakura's throat convulsed as she fought the instinct to gag, her small hands clutching at her skirt. The bitter taste clung to her tongue, but worse was the warmth pooling low in her stomach, a traitorous, squirming shame that made her face burn hotter than any academy training session. She hated this. She hated *him*. And yet, when his fingers twined in her hair just right, when his voice dropped to that velvet murmur, her body *listened*.
The footsteps outside soon faded away, swallowed by the academy's maze of hallways. The man exhaled, a slow, satisfied sound, and Sakura felt his thumb brush along her cheekbone, smearing the dampness there. "See?" His voice was honeyed, amused. "No one cares what happens in here."
Sakura's stomach dropped, but her lips kept moving, her tongue dragging along his length in practiced strokes. That was the worst part, how easily her body obeyed, even as her mind screamed. She could still feel it, that creeping warmth in her chest, the way her skin prickled whenever he touched her. Like her nerves had been rewired to crave his hands.
Masato Kirishima. That was the man's name, though he hadn't always been called that. In another life, in another world, he'd been nothing special: a faceless office worker drowning in spreadsheets, a man who'd lived and died without ever tasting power.
Twenty-five years ago, when his consciousness first slammed into this world, he'd been as weak and confused as any other infant. Now, at twenty-five, he had clawed his way up to the rank of special jounin and had become an instructor at the ninja academy. His reputation was polished to a gleaming sheen, "Kirishima-sensei," they called him, voices tinged with respect. If only they knew.
A year earlier, Masato had finally awakened his goldfinger after more than two decades of being reborn. He had long since given up on the idea of getting cheat abilities. Who would've thought that his innate talents would suddenly bloom in his prime?
A smile curved at his lips as he enjoyed the way Sakura's throat fluttered around his shaft, the vibrations sending pleasant shivers up his spine. Her body moved on its own, obedient to the imprint he'd woven into her over weeks of careful proximity, stolen touches, and whispered compliments after class.
This was all thanks to one of the two abilities he had awakened. Yin Charm: the Yin Charm is a terrifying psychic ability that works exclusively on the opposite sex. An insidious, patient art, like ivy creeping up a wall. It was slow, inevitable, and utterly inescapable once rooted.
The Yin Charm was way more potent than any genjutsu. It was quieter, and took hold much *Deeper*. Like a drop of ink in a clear pool, spreading lazily until the water itself turned dark.
Genjutsu could be broken by a sharp pain, a burst of chakra or the right mental discipline. But the Yin Charm? Once it took root completely, it was game over. The imprint didn't just force compliance; it made the body *want* to comply, as naturally as breathing. And the cruelest part? The mind stayed aware the whole time. Aware, helpless, and slowly *hungry* for it.
Masato had tested the limits of his ability thoroughly before risking its use on Konoha's precious little flowers. The first subjects had been civilians, bar girls, market vendors, easy targets with soft minds. Their bodies had responded beautifully, eagerly even.
Ninja were trickier. Their discipline acted as a buffer, delaying the imprint. But delay wasn't denial. The more he layered the Charm, by being in close proximity to the target, through lingering touches, and with the special pheromone he secreted, the faster their resistance eroded.
Layer by invisible layer, it built pathways in the female nervous system. A single moment of eye contact could plant the seed. A brush of fingers against skin laid the first brick. His pheromones, subtle, addictive and impossible to consciously detect acted as mortar, binding each interaction into something permanent. The young, inexperienced Sakura hadn't stood a chance the moment he had set his sights on her.
Masato's fingers trailed idly down Sakura's flushed cheek as she worked, his thumb catching a stray bead of saliva at the corner of her lips. As long as his barrier was in effect, No one would hear the wet, rhythmic sounds. No one would see the way the pink-haired girl's knees trembled against the wooden floorboards.
This was his second ability, Void Barrier: an invisible dome of energy that bent light and sound inside itself like water swirling around a stone. To the outside world, the storage room was empty, just another forgotten corner of the academy where dust settled on unused training dummies and outdated scrolls. If someone glanced inside, their eyes would slide right past the scene unfolding within, unable to see or hear what was taking place.
The Void Barrier was a masterpiece of subtlety. It simply *was*, like the stillness of undisturbed water. Masato didn't need hand signs or even conscious thought to erect or maintain it. The barrier formed instinctively whenever he willed it, wrapping around him and his chosen space at will. The icing on the cake was that the barrier also had excellent defensive capabilities.
The slurping grew louder as Sakura's cheeks hollowed, her tiny throat had a huge bulge as she worked around his cock with a desperation that wasn't entirely her own. Her pink brows furrowed, tears mixing with spit slicked her chin, but her lips never slowed... couldn't slow, not with the way her body thrummed under the Yin Charm's insistent pull. Masato exhaled through his nose. "Mm. You're getting better at this," he mused, thumb brushing the damp corner of her mouth. "Aren't you?"
"Hm..." Sakura whimpered, the sound vibrating deliciously around him, but her head kept bobbing, her tongue flattening along his underside in a way that made his fingers twitch in her hair. Two weeks ago, she'd gag the second he pushed past her lips. Now? Now her little nose bumped against his pelvis, her breath hitching wetly through flared nostrils, and still she didn't pull away.
His dick was still deep in Sakura's throat when the distant chime of the academy bell echoed through the halls, three sharp rings signaling the end of lunch period. Masato exhaled through his nose, amused by how Sakura's body tensed at the sound while her lips remained locked around him, her tongue flicking instinctively against his dick.
"Well, time to wrap things up," Masato murmured, more to himself than to the pink-haired girl still dutifully swallowing around him. His fingers tightened in her hair as he held her firmly. Then he began pistoning into her throat, slow at first, savoring the way her tiny nose wrinkled with each push deeper, the way her tear-streaked cheeks hollowed as she struggled to accommodate him. The wet, choked sounds she made were almost musical, a symphony of her absolute submission.
"Gluk gluk gluk!" the wet, rhythmic gagging continued, Sakura's throat fluttered like a trapped bird as Masato fucked her face with slow, deliberate thrusts. Her tiny hands clawed at his pants, knuckles white, but her lips stayed sealed around him, saliva spilling down her chin in thick strands. The sound was obscenely loud inside the Void Barrier's cocoon, each glottal choke echoing off the shelves of dusty scrolls.
Her nose bumped against his pelvis, her pink brows knitted together in distress, but her tongue still swirled obediently around his tip, her throat muscles massaging him in tight, involuntary pulses. Who would've thought the innocent little Sakura could swallow an eight inch cock like a pro?
"I'm coming," Masato murmured, voice low as his fingers tightened in Sakura's hair. The words weren't a warning, they were a command, one that made the pink-haired girl's throat flutter around him in reflexive obedience even as fresh tears welled in her green eyes. Her fingers scrabbled weakly against his thighs, she knew what was coming, but her lips stayed locked around him, her tongue dragging along his underside in slick, practiced strokes.
The first hot pulse hit the back of Sakura's throat like a kunai to the windpipe. Her eyes flew wide, emerald irises drowning in panic as the first thick spurt flooded her esophagus. Her gag reflex kicked in violently, nasal passages burning with the sour tang of his semen, but Masato's grip in her hair held firm, forcing her to swallow convulsively as rope after rope erupted down her narrow throat.
"Hah..." Masato exhaled through his nose, a soft, satisfied sound as Sakura's throat fluttered around him in helpless little spasms, her tiny fingers twitching against his thighs. The overhead light cast jagged shadows across her tear-streaked face as she swallowed his dick, her nose wrinkled in disgust even as her tongue dutifully lapped up every last drop.
Masato pulled out with a slick pop. A strand of cum and saliva still connected her bottom lip to his glistening cock before popping.
"Cough cough cough!"
Sakura collapsed forward onto her hands, coughing violently, strands of pink hair sticking to her damp cheeks. She gasped for air between wet, ragged coughs. Her tiny body convulsed as if trying to expel not just his release, but the shame, the violation and the creeping warmth between her thighs that betrayed her own thoughts.
Masato watched her, idly tucking his cock back into his pants. His movements were unhurried, almost lazy, as if he'd just finished grading papers rather than violating one of his students. He adjusted his belt with a satisfied sigh. He reached down, tucking a damp strand of pink hair behind her ear with mock tenderness. "Clean yourself up," he murmured. "Classes resume in five minutes."