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it's only sex (it's not)

also known as, incelbur is an old friend that you take pity on by taking his virginity after one too many drinks. vaguely based on It's Only Sex by Car Seat Headrest and this erotic audio that sounds like a certain british guy.

-=-

first actual fanfic and not just a blurb or rambling train of thoughts. been wanting to do one for a while since i heard the audio linked above. you don't have to listen to it to understand the story or anything but would recommend lol. this took me like 10 months to finally finish because i wasn't ever happy with it, but you guys deserve something from me. thanks for your continued support.

warnings: porn with plot, incel language/misogyny, alcohol use, drunk sex, implied suicide ideation, loss of virginity, mild exhibitionism, dubious consent, afab fem reader, unprotected sex, slapping, degradation, dom!reader x switch!wilbur, spitting, reader lowkey treats him badly (but he deserves it), mummy kink.

wordcount: 4501

dont like, dni. please just block me and move on.

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The other night I cried while thinking of having sex with you Not out of desire or shame but some subconscious impulse to feel pain I wiped my tears on my face and neck and the backs of my ears And said, "Now it's sweat, now it's sweat, it's sweat now"

-

he couldn't stop staring at her. there wasn't any other girls there, they didn't really like him and his friends. he hadn't noticed her for the longest time, she was just one of the boys. but time, puberty and now at a reunion between some highschool friends he barely recognised the girl sitting across from him

it had been at least five years since he'd seen her, back when she was an awkward teenager who played video games with wilbur and his friends. he always thought she was sort of funny looking, with her crooked teeth and uneven eyebrows, he wasn't surprised she got bullied by the stacys and chads at their school. he honestly felt sort of bad for her since she was such a low value female.

in the last five year's wilbur hadn't changed much. he'd gotten taller, but he was all skin and bones. his hormonal acne had left his skin uneven and he was pretty sure he was already going bald so he kept his curls long so they fell over his forehead. he dressed exactly the same as he did in school, and his hygiene wasn't any better.

yet looking at her now, with her perfect hair and curves it felt like a punch in the gut. it wasn't fair, why had she been blessed to grow into a 10 when he looked like a 4 on a good day? he would be a such a good boyfriend, he's a nice guy but females never gave him a chance since he wasn't a chad. he was in his 20's and hadn't even had his first kiss, let alone a girlfriend. it made him angry. resentful.

they're drinking now, and sharing where they've been since they graduated. one friend tells them he's engaged, he's got an important corporate job. another says he's finishing his degree to become a doctor, he's moving to the big city. they don't have time to play video games like they used too, they're proper adults now with responsibilities.

-

Just to see you It's such a treasure But when I feel you My flesh yields no pleasure

And honey I'm cultured I'm very sex positive So what is this feeling? It ain't so positive

-

wilbur doesn't have anything exciting to say, nothing meaningful has happened to him. he still lives at home much to his mother's annoyance, he works at a corner store and gets paid minimum wage. he is even more active on the internet than he was as a kid, scrolling reddit and playing video games until his eyes burn. he complains about females with other likeminded men, they are the only ones who can match his high intelligence and they feed his ideologies.

she says she's just finished university and moved back to their hometown, she's got an average job but she loves it. she smiles as she talks, she's excited about the future. her optimism makes his stomach twist in knots, and he's chugging the last of his drink to wash the jealousy from his mouth.

its been a few hours but it feels like days with how drained wilbur is. his friends are trying to keep him engaged but his resentment radiates from him almost as strong as his BO. so he drinks, and he drinks until he feels like he's going to vomit if he has another. he sinks into the couch, watching them laugh and play a video game from his spot in the living room.

he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling, being met with posts that fuel his anger. he knew coming here was a mistake, he should have just said no and stayed home. maybe he came because he hoped his friends would be just as miserable as him and he'd feel better about himself. but of course they're doing amazing, of course they've succeeded in all the ways he deserves to but never does. he's checking on his phone how to drive home, he doesn't even want to say goodbye. they aren't his friends, not anymore.

and then she sits next to him.

she says she missed him, and he feels like he's being punked. no one misses him, no one thinks about him even when he's in the same room. she smiles while she talks, and it makes him feel sick. he isn't sure why. now that she's sitting closer he can smell her, the perfume she's wearing must be expensive the way it floods his senses and makes him dizzy. it has to be the perfume, no other reason.

he tells her he's missed her too, which isn't exactly true. he hadn't thought about her much at all after graduation, his focus on other females he'd tried and failed to court. they barely gave him the time of day and it fuelled the flames of resentment that hung heavy in his heart. at this point he assumed all the femoid's worth marrying had already lowered their value by fucking chads.

but not you. you're giving him time, blessing him with your attention. he isn't quite sure why, is it to make fun of him later? find out his secrets and betray him? he assumes the worst, but you're just smiling and offering to get you both another drink. maybe you're actually being nice, as unlikely as that sounds to him.

he follows you to the kitchen, the other guys are sat around the tv laughing loudly as they drink. it quieter in the other room, it makes his thoughts ring louder in his ears. you're quick to fill the silence by grabbing two drinks from the fridge, and he indulges in a look at your ass when you bend over to do so.

you ask if he has a girlfriend and he has to grip the counter with his free hand so he doesn't fall over. he says he doesn't, and makes some bitter comment about how all the girls in this town are all bitches. you ask if that's changed now you've moved back into town. he shrugs, making some joke that you don't count. you wouldn't want to know what's really on his mind right now.

one drink turns into two, and he's pretty sure he's more than tipsy now. the slight haze in his vision makes you glow in the evening light, your features highlighted in a way he's never seen them before. you ask him what his plans are, and he says he was gonna drive home. you tell him it's not safe, ignoring the way he shakes his head dismissively.

-

I can't tell you if I like it, I like it What happens if I don't like it? I like it I can't tell you if I like it, I like it What happens if I don't like it? It's only

OK, so I've been reading all the sex blogs And they all talk about how OK it is to be gay And straight and bisexual and asexual And have sex however you like

-

you put a hand on his arm, the touch burns the skin under his hoodie, and you tell him you're already planning on spending the night here and he should too. he says yes. of course he does. he's annoyed at his own optimism. but you care about him, you don't want him to drive home drunk. you want him safe. you fucking care if he's alive or not.

he isn't used to that sort of consideration.

the sun has set and the house is dark, most people have gone home except for the stragglers on the couch. the host; an old friend who's name he can't remember, with you and him sharing the last of the beer. he's spoken more to you than any girl in the last six months, and it makes his cock ache in his skinny jeans. he considered running upstairs and dealing with it in the bathroom, but that would mean leaving your side. you'd probably fall for the other man in the time he was gone.

the host (what was his name again? henry? andrew?) is better than him in everyway. he has his own house, he's handsome with a good job. if you talked to him for even a minute you'd realise what a waste of space wilbur is and forget about him again.

but henry/andrew yawns, stretching his arms above his head and says he's going to bed. he grabs some blankets and pillows from a wardrobe and tell you guys to sleep on the couch. you thank him for his hospitality with a hug, wishing him a goodnight. wilbur grumbles his own thanks, but he's more pleased to be alone with you than anything.

he helps you make the beds on the two couches, grateful as you offer to take the shorter one since his legs don't fit. you say you aren't quite tired yet, and decide to put a movie on the television. the volume is low and the space suddenly feels much more intimate.

is this what a date would feel like? wilbur hasn't got a clue. you take a seat next to him on the couch, your thigh pressing against his own. he thinks about grabbing it, digging his thin fingers into the plush flesh until it bruises. the movie is playing but he isn't paying attention, his mind filled with thoughts of you. your scent, your warmth, only you.

he feels like such a simp, a pathetic excuse for a man as he imagines a future with you by his side. he'd look after you if you just gave him a chance, he could shape you into the perfect wife. train you to clean his house and cook him dinner, he'd work a well paying job and keep you barefoot and pregnant. you have so much potential, he just has to make a move.

but that nagging feeling of insecurity stops him. he would probably just mess it up and you'd hate him, like every other worthless female that has come into his life. why the fuck should he try anymore.

wilbur wasn't quite sure how it eventually happened. maybe it was pity, maybe the alcohol had lowered your inhibitions, whatever the reason the next morning he would be thanking a god he didn't believe in. he made some comment about the movie and you laughed. not a forced chuckle, your face lit up and your eyes scrunched, the sound bubbling from your chest. it made him.... happy. something unfamiliar. you lift your head to look at him beside you, and suddenly he is very aware of how close your face is to his own.

you close the distance, soft lips pressing against his own chapped ones. it's awkward, he doesn't even close his eyes or move as you kiss him softly. you taste like cheap beer, but since this is his first kiss and he can't remember the last time he brushed his teeth, he isn't exactly in a position to complain. when you pull back and blink at him, he doesn't even breath. this is further than he has gotten before, and he can't mess it up yet.

-

But I don't care about hundreds of hypothetical people And their hypothetical sex deals I care about me, and my sex deal! What about my problems?

Baby, my body Constantly betrays me I try to betray it I only hurt myself Yeah, yeah

-

"sorry, i shouldn't have done that without asking first. i didn't mean to upset you-" you start to apologies but at this point he can't even hear you over the ringing in his ears as his blood rushed through his veins. suddenly he grabbed your shoulders, pushing you back against the couch as he caged her against the cushions.

he kissed you this time, sloppy and overly eager. swapping spit and clashing teeth as he forces his tongue into your mouth. its his first time ever kissing someone, and he does his best to copy what he's seen in films. although he's too desperate, letting out little groans and whines as his hands squeeze your shoulders to keep you pinned down.

it doesn't take long for you to reciprocate his advances, hands sliding around his long neck as you kiss him back. he know's you're drunk, you aren't thinking straight and will probably regret it tomorrow. he didn't even really ask you, just assumed it was okay since you kissed him first. a good man would slow down, stop and consider what he was doing. but wilbur wasn't a good man.

your thighs wrap around his waist and his pelvis slots against your own, causing him to groan. his big hands slide down your sides then back up under your shirt, cupping your tits. god, boobs are amazing. warm, big, soft. it's better than he imagined, and of course you weren't wearing a bra- you must have planned this. such a slut, but its okay because he can fix you.

he's dry-humping you like a dog, messily kissing your face and lips as he rolls your stiff nipples between his thumb and fore finger. you start moaning now, and it makes his cock ache. he's making you feel good, you're enjoying this. he was doing something right for the first time in his life. for a brief moment he considers the people sleeping upstairs, how anyone could walk down and see him groping you on the couch but he can't bring himself to care.

"holy shit, you're so fucking soft. you wanted this, didn't you?" he practically snarls the words, all his deepest, darkest thoughts coming out before he can stop himself. "gonna fucking ruin you. make you mine. needed a real man like me to take charge. all you females are the same."

he shoves your shirt up until its around your armpits, and he stops kissing you so he can mouth at your tits instead. your fingers tangle in his brown curls and he lets out a growl of approval, his hands already moving to unbuckle your jeans.

you whimper his name and he struggles to get the tight denim down past your thighs. you lift your hips off the couch to help him, you want this. you want him, you're letting him touch you. some how you're attracted to him, even though he's too skinny and hasn't showered in nine days.

"y-you gotta be quiet, i don't wanna get caught." you whisper into his ear as your own hands trail down so you slide a hand over the obvious bulge in his pants. he practically growls, yanking your jeans the rest of the way off your legs and throwing them to the floor. he's never had someone touch him before, and he is already stupidly close to cumming and his pants aren't even off.

-

It's only sex It's only It's only sex C'mon, sexual desire, speak!

I want to hold you tight I want to feel your love physically I want to sleep with you But only in the literal sense

-

"why? are you embarrassed?" he asked, voice low in his throat as he used one hand to grab your waist as the other pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. he gave himself a few frim strokes, knowing he must smell since he hasn't even looked at soap in days. "if you're gonna be a slut and put out so easily, you can't be shy about it, that's more pathetic."

your cheeks flush as you stutter out a reply, your cheeks flushed as he attempts to penetrate you but he's moving too fast, the mushroomed tip bumping against your slick folds as he whines. insulted by his words, you decide to take charge and teach the sad man above you a lesson.

with strength he didn't expect you to have, you manage to push him back until he is sitting on his knees. he doesn't have time to react before you're straddling his lap and spitting on his dick. you swat his hand away to jerk him off himself. the insulting words he was throwing your way die in his throat as he looks up at you. this wasn't how it was supposed to go, men aren't supposed to let women dominate them. and yet, here he is a babbling mess when you lean down to run your tongue over his sensitive weeping slit.

you spit and slobber over his cock, and he can't help but notice how big it looks next to your face. he grabs the base and slaps it against your cheek, earning a sharp bite on his inner thigh that makes him whimper pathetically. the sound clearly pleases you as you continue to cover his shaft in your salvia.

his balls feel heavy, and he's confident if you keep this up he won't even manage to get inside you properly. every time he tries to touch you, your slapping his hand away and glaring at him. he's a little nervous, he never imagined a femoid having such control over him. he's an alpha male, he's supposed to be dominant and claim you. now he's whimpering, begging. it's pathetic. he feels ashamed, but the pleasure from your both and hands is making him too dizzy.

"shut up wil, do you want to get laid or not? you keep being a bitch i'll let you die a virgin." you say, using one hand to stroke his length as the other slides between your thighs to rub yourself. he opens his mouth to protest against your insulting words but you don't give him the chance, squeeze his cock tightly at the base so his back arches.

"don't deny it, i know you're a virgin. i can tell by the way you're trying so hard to impress me. it's kind of cute." she chuckled, but he doesn't find it funny. he's insulted by you, and yet his cock doesn't soften and he doesn't make any move to stop you. its kind of... hot, seeing you in charge. this isn't how he dreamed of this moment going at all.

you make quick prep of yourself, rolling your clit with your palm as your fingers slide inside you. he can hear the wet sound of your fingering, and he knows he should probably offer to help you out but he isn't in a position to ask for anything when you start kissing and sucking at his neck.

"please, i-i'm sorry, i never thought i'd get this far with a fema- i mean, girl..." he struggles to speak, his hips lifting off the couch to try and chase your hand when you stop stroking him. instead you pull your hand from your cunt and slide the slid fingers forcefully past his lips, the slightly salty taste of your arousal coats his tongue as he does his best to lick your digets clean. you praise him, and it makes his dick somehow harder.

"you gonna be good for me? you gonna let me take care of you, fuck some sense into your stupid head?" you murmur into his ear, fingers tangling in his greasy hair as you hover above his lap. he nods, whining as he reaches for your hips. once again you push his hand away, glaring down at the pathetic excuse for a man.

"ask permission to touch, i'm doing you a favour. be grateful." she says, eyes darkening as he nodded. he clenches his fists, blunt nails digging into his palms as he starts to beg.

"please, l-let me touch you. wanna f-feel your soft skin, g-grab your ass." he's vomiting out words quickly, his tongue working faster than his brain. he should be embarrassed, and maybe tomorrow morning he will be. but right now all he can think about is you, and how heavenly you'll feel wrapped around his dick.

-

I can't tell you if I like it, I like it What happens if I don't like it? I like you I can't tell you if I like it, I like it What happens if I don't like it? It's only-

I can't tell you if I like it, I like it What happens if I don't like it? I like it I can't tell you if I like it, I like it What happens if I don't like it? It's only-

-

you give him a surprisingly soft smile, nodding at him. his hands jump to your hips, fingers digging into the soft skin of your love handles. you're still half wearing your shift, and his own is stuck to his chest with sweat. but he isn't thinking about how uncomfortable and gross he is, instead he watches in awe as you grab his cock and position him at your entrance.

he feels like throwing up, cumming and crying all at once when his engorged head pops inside your entrance. his fingers dig in harder, no doubt leaving bruises. all he wants to do is pull you down and get as deep inside you as he can. so he does, yanking you down and bending his knees so he can lift his hips up and press even deeper inside you.

it feels better than his hand, but it's short lived bliss before your hand slaps across his cheek. he stares up at you like you have three heads, gobsmacked you've done that to him. he deserves it of course, but he hasn't had a female ever stand up to him and punish him for his greedy behaviour.

your hands press into his shoulders until he's lying flat across the couch, and you start to bounce on him. hard and fast, all his words get lost in his throat and he resorts to whimpering your name instead. you seem pleased by him, a smirk on your face as you ride the fuck out of him.

it feels good, you're tighter than he expected. pussy feels better that it looks. its pulpy, warm and so fucking wet. he could die right now and be a happy man. he just might get a heart attack, considering how fast his heart is beating and the way he's struggling to breath.

he feels his orgasm coming on way to quick, he can't help it. you feel too fucking good, its better than a dream. he tries to slow down your bouncing with his hands but his limbs feel numb. you're laughing now, you can see how close he is by his facial expression.

"look at you, so close already? what happened to the alpha male you were pretending to be before?" you tease, grabbing his jaw and squeezing his lips so you can spit into his mouth. he feels so degraded, like he isn't worth anything to you. which he knows it true, and it makes his cock throb with need as he desperately tries to hold of his orgasm.

"p-please let me c-cum, wanna f-fill you up." he's whimpering, tears sliding down his reddened cheeks as his hips rut up into you. he can feel his cockhead slamming into your cervix. "please, please... let me cum in y-you, wanna g-get you pregnant."

you laugh again, nails digging into his shoulders as you slow your riding, rolling your hips in a painfully slow rhythm that has him sobbing. he knows he doesn't deserve to finish inside you, you deserve so much more than his pathetic genes fertilising your eggs. he doesn't deserve to procreate, and yet he keeps asking.

whining and whimpering as his hips try to lift off the couch but you've got him pinned against the couch. he's a lot taller than you, but he's too skinny to try and switch the power dynamic. plus with how much blood is flooding between his legs, he can hardly think straight.

"f-fuck, mummy please. let me cum, i-i know i'm ugly and g-gross but i wanna f-finish so bad." the nickname slips past his lips before he can second guess himself, and it makes him so ashamed. he shouldn't find it sexy but now he's even closer to finishing as you rock yourself against him, his thick length rubbing against your tight walls.

you're smiling, clearly a fan of the nickname yourself as you begin to bounce once more. leaning forward to whisper in his ear, you give him permission to cum and he could cry with joy. he starts to thrust up into you, already imagining how good it'll feel to spill his seed inside you, fill you with his virile cum.

but that fantasy is short lived as when he is about to finish you lift off of him, wrapping your delicate hand around his length and jerking him off with quick strokes. it takes a few seconds before he is letting out another pathetic sound as his cum spills all over his stomach, pooling around his belly button.

-

It's only sex (it's only sex) It's only- It's only sex (no, it's not) It's only sex It's only- It's only sex It's only sex It's only-

-

his vision goes white, and he is vaguely away of your weight getting off of him as he lies limp on the couch that is now soaked with his sweat. he's panting, and his limbs feel numb. he should feel angry, you just treated him like some sort of subservient manchild and yet he can't bring himself to be upset. not when he just had the best orgasm of his life.

he manages to blink his eyes open when he feels something wiping against his stomach, his vision clearing as he looks down. you've put your clothes back on, at least your shirt and underwear. now you're cleaning the mess from his stomach with the gentlest touch you've shown him all night.

wilbur doesn't talk as you pull his jeans the rest of the way down, pulling his boxers back up and getting him comfortable. you're really living up to the nickname as you mother him, making him feel cared for despite your earlier treatment.

eventually your getting back onto the couch, draping yourself across his scrawny chest and nuzzling against his neck. one long arm wraps around your waist, and he feels content. maybe he did die tonight, because this feels too good to be true.

"thank you mummy.." he murmurs, and he can feel you smile against his neck. he knows tomorrow will probably be filled with regret and shame, but right now he's happy to fall asleep with a pretty girl in his arms and pretend he is worth your attention.

────୨ৎ────

ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ, ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴀɪ.

・・・・・

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