curious cat
there's a steamy website being shared around the boys. what could possibly go wrong with checking it out?
nerd!roommate!gojo x camgirl!reader wc. 8k cw/tw. explicit sexual content, masturbation, use of toys, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, creampie, oral sex, unprotected sex, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, shameless smut 18+ mdni
Satoru thinks the idea of him typing down the website on his PC’s browser is stupid and embarrassing.
Of course he’s watched porn countless times before, but that's on his phone. He hasn't tried it ever on the 49-inch ultrawide curved monitor sitting on his desk. The experience would be different, sure, but he knows he’s not that shameless.
Yet.
Besides, he has you as his roommate. He thinks it’s an indecent move to watch porn when you’re literally just on the other side of the dorm. So whenever it was his ‘me time’, he always makes sure you're out or you're in class somewhere across the campus.
He had already imagined many worst-case scenarios of being caught by you. Would there be even any chances you’d open his bedroom door? While the probability is ten percent or maybe even less, it is never zero.
Hell, you barely leave your room. The walls are incredibly thick and soundproofed, and both of your rooms sit at the opposite ends of the unit, at that—it still feels mortifying.
But curiosity follows him everywhere. The guys from his program have been talking about the site so much. They’re crazy about it. Some even mentioned having already spent a hundred bucks for just one mere streamer. He thinks they’re stupid—they’re wasting their precious money for absolutely nothing.
www.girlsoncum.com
“Really? Girls on cum?” He asks Suguru, who willingly showed him the website on his phone.
This guy’s shameless to the roof.
“Hell yeah. A play on the word camera, d’you get it?”
“You think I’m dumb? ‘Course, I get it.”
“Your words, not mine,” Suguru raises his hands in a fake surrender. “You should check out user sultrykitty when you look it up later. She’s one of the best.”
And now, this is the dilemma Satoru has officially put himself into. It’s simple, really. He could either ignore the entire existence of the website or he could search it up and see for himself what the boys have been raving about.
Being a natural, curious man who has his own needs and wants, it's only normal that he chooses the latter. He’s just a man in need of a hot release, after all.
Satoru stands up abruptly from his gaming chair and silently makes his way to the door. He twists the doorknob and pulls the door open. Slowly, he peeks his head out. He doesn’t remember seeing you come out of your room but it’s a Tuesday—for sure you’re gone the whole day.
His keyboard makes an annoying clicky sound as he presses each letter to the website he had been shown to. When he hits the enter key, he knows he was in for a ride.
A small page pops up, a disclaimer in bold letters that he is about to enter a website strictly for adults—no minors allowed—and that he had to confirm he is 18 or older.
Satoru scoffs, already clicking ‘Yes’ before he even finished reading.
The page transitions into a sleek black and pink layout, rows upon rows of thumbnails filling his monitor with suggestive thumbnails and titles that makes his throat dry up.
Satoru’s fingers hover over the mouse, his throat tightening as he clicks the ‘Hot’ tab at the top of the screen. The page refreshes instantly, flooding his wide monitor with an even more dizzying array of thumbnails—girls in skimpy lingerie, girls biting their lips, girls arching their backs against bedsheets or gripping the edges of gaming chairs with long, painted nails. Some wearing masks, teasing anonymity while others stare boldly into their cameras.
The variety is overwhelming and his pulse kicks up a notch when he realizes just how many of them are live, little red dots blinking beside their usernames—proof of real, breathing women moving on the other side of his screen right now.
His eyes darts across the screen, scanning the usernames until one snags his attention like a fishhook.
🔴 sultrykitty | let’s play and get naughty :3
The thumbnail is modest compared to others, just the curve of bare shoulders and a black lace mask across the upper half of her face. Suguru isn't exaggerating; the moment he clicks on her stream, the chat explodes in a frenzy of dollar signs and emojis, messages scrolling too fast to read. The camera angle is low, tilted up just enough to show the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, and the way her fingers trail lazily over her own skin like she has all the time in the world.
“Ohhh, big spenders tonight, huh?”
Her voice drips honey-sweet through Satoru’s headphones as she drags a fingertip along her collarbone. The chat explodes again, a blur of usernames and dollar amounts he can't keep up with.
Shirtcumstains: fuck ur so hot
DaddyDark69 tipped $100 DaddyDark69: You look extremely good today, Kitty!
“Awww... thank you, DaddyDark69,” she purrs, dragging out the ‘Daddy’ in a way that sent an involuntary shiver down Satoru’s spine. “You always tip so well. Should I play with my tits for you? Or do you wanna see something else first?”
Maximo135 tipped $50
Pieter6767 tipped $70 Pieter6767: let me taste you baby
“Alright, let’s see what my kittens wanna see tonight,” she coos, tilting her head as she skims the rapidly scrolling chat. Her fingers—nails painted black, Satoru notes—traces idle circles over her stomach, dipping just below the waistband of her lace panties before pulling away teasingly.
The chat erupts in protest, demands for her to go lower, to stop teasing, to give them what they paid for. She laughs, low and throaty, and Satoru realizes his nails are digging into his chair.
His breath hitches when she finally hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her panties, rolling them slow enough to make the chat lose their minds. The curve of her hips, the smooth dip between her thighs—his grip on the chair tightens as he leans forward, pulse hammering in his ears.
“Mmmhhh… tell me boys,” she hums, spreading her legs and thighs wider. “What should I use tonight? Your choice.”
Cowboybear00 tipped $20 Cowboybear00: Please use the tentacle dildo
Getwreckedson tipped $35 Getwreckedson: the pink clit sucker plssss kitty
Trojanhorsey: y'all suck real bad xD Trojanhorsey tipped $50 Trojanhorsey: the rabbit vibrator is clearly the best choice you stupid fucks
“Boys, please don’t fight over the chatbox,” she laughs, leaning back against the pink pillows. “Actually, kittens, nevermind what I said. I got something new for you guys today.” she reaches off-screen with a smirk that sends cold sweat prickling on his neck.
She pulls out a sleek, black toy—one of those high-end vibrators with app and remote connectivity, the kind Suguru had joked about hacking into during a hangout last week.
The chat explodes.
Her fingers dance over the toy’s control with ease, the tip already glistening under the lights. “Should I start slow?” She muses, dragging it down from her stomach to her pussy. “Or-” Her thumb flicks a switch. The sudden, buzzing whir makes her gasp, back arching off the bed as the vibrator kicks to life against her inner thigh.
“Oh fuck- okay, okay, that’s-” She giggles, breathless, and Satoru’s brain short-circuits.
DaddyDark69 tipped $200 DaddyDark69: Turn it up higher baby, I wanna hear you scream
“You’re real greedy, DaddyDark69,” she pants, her fingers trembling when she cranked the intensity up another notch. The vibrator pressed flush against her now, the sound wet and obscenely loud in Satoru’s headphones.
He should close the tab. He should leave.
Instead, his free hand drifts shamelessly to the bulge in his sweatpants, hips jerking when she moans—high and needy—as the toy circles her clit.
“Shiiit, shit-” Her thighs clamp around the vibrator, muscles fluttering on screen. “You guys—ah! You’re gonna make me cum before we even-”
Satoru tugs down the band of his sweatpants, just enough to free his cock. It's already stiff, straining against his boxers. He doesn’t even remember getting this hard. His palm presses against the outline of his erection, hissing through his teeth at the contact before finally pulling himself out.
The contrast is obscene. The cold air of his room against his flushed skin, the heat of his own grip as he swipes his thumb over the leaking tip. On screen, the woman whimpers, her back arching off the bed as the vibrator pulses against her clit.
He matches his strokes to the rhythm of her moans, his fingers tightening around his cock as she gasps, “Fuck, fuuuck, fuck—right there…” His hips jerk forward into his fist, the wet sound of his hand moving over his cock.
He can't look away. Not when she rolls her hips so desperately against the toy.
“You guys wanna see me cum?” She bite her lip and whine.
The chat explodes, tips flooding in, but Satoru barely registers them—his entire world narrows to the way her thighs tremble, the way her fingers dig into the sheets as she fucks herself against the vibrator. His own movements turn frantic and his breathing ragged, his free hand grips the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles ached.
“Oh my god! I’m cumming! I’m-”
The words dissolves into a gasp, her thighs clamping as she shudders through it. Satoru’s vision whites out.
He just fucking came.
The first thing that registers to him is the thick wetness dripping from his glasses. The second is the warm, sticky mess on his fingers, the proof of his shame smears across his palm. He tips his head back against the chair, the aftershocks still rolling through him in lazy waves.
The screen shows the woman catching her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she giggles at the chat’s demands for an encore.
Her fingers slides through the slick mess between her thighs. She hooks two fingers into herself, spreading her pussy open for the camera. The chat erupts into a frenzy—dollar signs and fire emojis flooding the screen.
Satoru doesn't bother about wiping himself clean. He grips his cock again, mouth dry as he watches her drag a fingertip through her own wetness.
“Hmm... look at how ruined I am,” she breathes, voice husky from moaning. “All for you.”
Satoru smears his cum over the tip of his cock as he watches her circle her clit again. The angle of the camera catching every detail. The way her folds glisten, the way her entrance flutters when she dips a finger inside with a soft gasp. His grip tightens around himself, fingers slick with his cum as he drags his hand lazily along his cock.
His eyes stays glued to the screen where sultrykitty arches her back, biting her lip as she adds another finger inside herself. The vibrator presses back against her clit, its buzz audible through the layers of her whimpers.
“Fuck, you guys,” her voice cracks as she rock her hips, the toy vibrating mercilessly against her oversensitive nerves. “I can’t—ah—decide if this feels too good or—nngh—if it’s gonna kill me.”
The joke lands somewhere between a moan and a laugh but Satoru just swallows, his own hips twitching forward in time with her movements. She's relentless, fingers pumping in and out of herself while the vibrator turns her thighs to jelly, her moans pitching higher—breathier—until they barely sound like words at all.
DaddyDark69 tipped $500 DaddyDark69: Squirt for me, Kitty
Her lips part in a silent gasp before she lets out a shuddering exhale. “You’re really testing me tonight.” She shifts the vibrator lower, pressing it flush against her entrance where her fingers work, the toy buzzing against her knuckles.
The effect is instantaneous—her entire body jerks, a high-pitched whine tearing from her throat as her thighs shake violently.
“Oh god, oh my god!”
A low groan punches out of Satoru's throat before he can even smother it—half-stangled and desperate—as her body convulses on screen. The sound feels too loud in the silent room, even with his headphones on. He slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes darting toward the door like you might burst through it any second.
“F-Fuck,” he pants against his palm, hips stuttering into his own fist. "Shit."
“I’m close!”
Satoru’s vision whites out again, his orgasm crashing over him so hard his knees knocked against the desk. Cum streaks across his stomach in hot, messy ropes. He hisses as he milks himself through it, every twitch of her body mirroring his own.
He hadn’t come this much before. Ever.
Her body jerks—a sudden, violent arch of her spine that sends the vibrator slipping from her soaked fingers. Her moans fractures into gasps as the first spurt hits the bedsheet. The sheets darkened instantly, the liquid spraying in erratic spurts across her thighs.
FartSucker333 tipped $100 FartSucker333: daaamnnn that was so fucking hot kitty u did so well
SexSailor tipped $250 SexSailor: you're my favorite girl, kitty. wish i could lick you up clean rn
Satoru's breath catches as she laugh breathlessly, her fingers now lazily circling her clit while the vibrator lay discarded beside her. The camera catches every twitch of her legs, the way her hips jerk when she tease herself, overstimulated but refusing to stop.
His own cock twitches pathetically in his hand, still wet with his own mess. He can't look away.
"Mmhmmm, that's right, my kittens," she coos, her voice still quite shaky from the aftershocks. Her fingers trail lazily through the mess on her thighs before she swiped them across her tongue. "You've been so good to me tonight. But all good things have to end, don't they?"
The pity in her voice is performative, but the way she shifts her legs closed betrays how wrecked she really is.
She sighs, then stretches her arms above her head with a satisfied hum, the movement making her tits bounce enticingly. "As much as I'd love to keep playing with you all night..." She taps her lower lip, feigning regret while the chat erupts in protest. "Kitty's got an early day to get ready for tomorrow."
The lie slips effortlessly from her tongue, punctuated by a wink that sends another round of tips flooding in.
The screen goes black, leaving Satoru staring at his own reflection—glasses smudged, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted—like some pathetic loser who'd just been gutted by pixels and a voice. His fingers twitches on the mouse, hovering over the X button. The silence presses against his eardrums, a stark contrast to the relentless moans still echoing in his skull.
Fortunately, the tissue box is just beside him. He grabs some and wipes his sticky fingers clean then take his headphones off. When he pushes himself out of the chair, his legs wobbled slightly but he steadies himself quickly.
The livestream had really gotten him that weak in the knees.
Satoru grabs his glasses off his face to clean them with the hem of his shirt. The smear of cum comes off reluctantly, leaving the lenses streaky. He sighs and tosses them back on before cracking his door open, listening for any signs of movement in the dorm.
The living room and kitchen are still empty.
He pads toward the bathroom, still half-hard and aching, when the door at the opposite end of the hallway suddenly creaks open.
You step out, wrapped in a pink bathrobe, your hair slightly damp at the ends like you’d just showered. The robe was tied loosely, gaping just enough to reveal the smooth skin of your collarbone.
Your fingers pause mid-air, hovering near the belt of your robe as you blink up at him. “Oh. Hi, Satoru.”
Satoru swallows thickly. “Uh… Hey.”
Your gaze flicker down—just for a fraction of a second. His sweatpants are loose. He shifts his weight, subtly angling himself away as the heat crawls up his neck.
“I didn’t know you were home,” you say, tilting your head. The movement made the robe slip slightly off your shoulder. His brain short-circuited.
“Y-Yeah. I was… studying,” he manages, voice strained. “Didn’t know you were too.”
You nod and the two of you shuffles awkwardly toward the bathroom, the hallway suddenly feeling narrow. “Are you going to…?” You trail off, gesturing vaguely toward the door. The flush creeping up Satoru’s neck deepens as he adjusts his glasses with nervous fingers.
“Ah- yes, but you can go first,” he blurts. You grin, stepping closer—close enough that the scent of your shower gel, a mix of something vanilla and strawberries, tangles with the musky aftermath still clinging to him.
“Oh, come on, I insist.” You say, sarcastically rolling your eyes.
Satoru stiffens, pushing his glasses up again. “Ladies first,” he mutters stubbornly.
“Fine, but only because you’re being weirdly chivalrous about pissing.”
You move to sidestep him when something catches your eye. A faint, milky streak glazes the left lens of his glasses. Your nose wrinkles.
“Uh. Satoru?”
“Yeah?”
You lean in, squinting. “There’s… something on your glasses.”
Satoru’s fingers fumbles against the frames of his glasses, nearly dropping them in his haste. “O-Oh!” he stammers as he yanks them off his face. Your laughter bubbles up, the kind that makes his stomach flip with humiliation.
“Did you forget to clean up after your snack?” You tease, before finally stepping in the bathroom.
The bathroom door clicks shut behind you, leaving him standing there like an idiot, glasses clutch in his trembling hand. He stares at the closed door, pulse hammering as the sound of running water fills the silence. His mind races.
Did you notice? Did you know?
Satoru drags a hand down his face, fingers pressing hard enough to leave red streaks on his skin. He shuffles back to his room.
His gaming chair creaks under his weight when he collapses into it, the leather still warm from where he’d been sitting earlier. The monitor had gone to sleep but the reflection staring back at him on the black screen is worse. His white hair messy, lips bitten red, glasses smudged with—god, he can't even think it. He wipes them clean again, with proper cloth and antibacterial wipes this time.
“So? Did you watch her? Worth the hype or what?”
The library’s fluorescent lights buzzes overhead like a relentless mosquito in Satoru’s ear, but nothing else is louder than Suguru’s shit-eating grin across the table. If it isn't for some assignment, he wouldn’t meet up with him at this hour.
The tip of Satoru’s pencil snaps. He stares at the broken lead embedded in the worksheet.
“I literally don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, shoving his glasses up his nose.
Suguru snorts, slouching back in his chair. “That’s bullshit,” he flicks a crumpled gum wrapper at Satoru’s chest. “Did you jerk off to her?”
The library’s AC hums. Satoru’s throat clicks when he swallows again.
“Be honest?”
“Fuck off, Suguru.”
Suguru leans forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on his interlaced fingers. The grin never leaving his face. If anything, it widens, sharpening at the edges.
“Hmkaaay,” he drawls, dragging the word out. “Still. You didn’t answer my question.”
Satoru rolls his eyes and shoved Suguru’s half-empty worksheet toward him. “Please shut the fuck up.”
The key turns with a click louder than usual in the quiet dorm, and Satoru freezes mid-step when he hears laughter—bright, unguarded, and unmistakably yours—spilling from the living room. He blinks, adjusting his glasses as if they might be distorting the scene.
You’re all curled up on the couch in an oversized hoodie, legs tuck under you, eyes crinkling at the corners as you laugh at something on the screen. There’s a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, the buttery scent lingering.
His throat goes dry. In all the months you’d shared this space, he’d never seen you like this. You are always a phantom in the dorm, slipping in and out of your room as if allergic to shared spaces.
He must be dreaming.
“Oh, hey,” you say, noticing him hovering in the doorway like a startled deer. “You’re back early.”
Satoru’s brain short-circuits. Early? He isn't—he checks his watch out of habit, then realizes you're right. Maybe if Suguru isn't being an ass, he still probably wouldn’t be home by now.
“Yeah…” He manages, gripping the strap of his backpack lighter. “What’re you watching?”
You snort, tossing a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Some terrible rom-com movie my friend recommended. It’s actually so bad, it’s good.” You pat the empty space beside you. “Wanna join? There’s still plenty of popcorn.”
He should’ve said no. He should’ve mumbled something about assignments and bolted to his room.
But he doesn't.
“Sure,” he hear himself say. “I’ll just get changed real quick.”
“Okaaay!” You call after him, already turning your attention back to the screen as Satoru shuffle down the hallway.
The moment his bedroom door click shut, Satoru facepalmed so hard his glasses dig into his forehead. What the hell is he thinking? He had never voluntarily spent time with you outside of awkward hallway encounters and the occasional text if either of you are home or not. Now, he's about to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch.
His pulse throbs in his ears as he yank off his hoodie. Satoru exhales sharply through his nose.
Fuck it. He's not backing out now.
When he emerges, you’re already stretch out, taking up more couch space than before. Your socked feet nudges the popcorn bowl toward him in silent invitation. On the TV, some actor delivers a cringe-worthy pickup line with dramatic sincerity.
“This is the part where the female lead supposedly finds him charming,” you deadpan, tossing another kernel into your mouth. “Tell me, Satoru, would that line work on you?”
“Uh… I don’t know? It wouldn’t, maybe?”
Satoru’s knees bump against the coffee table when he lowers himself onto the couch, leaving just enough space between you two that his shoulder wouldn’t brush against yours. Except the moment he sits, the cushions shift, sliding him half an inch closer than he intends.
“Relax,” you say without looking away from the screen. “I don’t bite.” The corner of your mouth twitches like you know exactly how stiff he was sitting.
You know why he’s acting like this. It’s because you haven’t been exactly a good roommate to him. You’re always bedrotting in your room and even if you went out to get a glass of water, Satoru would be in his. You both even have your schedules printed and pinned by a magnet on the fridge—they never match up. Whenever you had vacant time, he’d be in his back-to-back lectures. And even if you two are free, you are either out with your friends and he’d be in the library, studying his ass off.
Satoru exhales through his nose, forcing his shoulders to loosen as he grabs a handful of popcorn. The butter coats his fingers, sticky and warm, and he focuses on that sensation rather than how your knee brushes his thigh when you shift positions.
The movie plays on—some convoluted plot about mistaken identities and grand romantic gestures—but his attention keeps snagging on the way your lips purse before laughing or how your fingers curls into the hem of your hoodie whenever the protagonist do something particularly stupid.
“You’re not even watching.” You remark halfway through a car chase scene, nudging him with your elbow.
Satoru jolt slightly. “I- uh…” His glasses slips down his nose and he pushes them up with an absentminded flick of his finger, eyes darting back to the screen where the protagonist is now dramatically swerving through traffic. “I am watching.”
You snort, tilting your head. “Then tell me why the billionaire CEO just jumped out of a helicopter.”
His mouth opens, then closes. The billionaire CEO had done what?
“Because…” He trails off, scrambling for an answer. “Because… it’s symbolic?”
A laugh burst out of you, loud enough that he feels the vibration of it through the couch cushions.
“Oh my god, you’re not really watching!”
Satoru’s ears burn as you grin at him, your knee bumping against his thigh again. The contact lingers—just a second too long—before you turn back to the screen, still chuckling. He exhales sharply, fingers twitching against the popcorn bowl. Butter smears his thumb so much now, but he barely registers it over the sudden awareness of your proximity. The scent of your shampoo—something faintly floral, like lavender and vanilla.
“You’re missing the best part,” you whisper, nudging his shoulder with yours. On screen, the billionaire CEO or whatsoever is now dramatically confessing his love mid-air, parachute billowing behind him like some kind of romance-novel cliché.
Your yawn cracks through the movie’s absurd climax, stretching your arms up until the hoodie ride up just enough to reveal the dip of your waist. “Well,” you sigh, rubbing at your eye with the heel of your palm, “I’m getting a little sleepy now. Are you gonna finish the movie?”
Satoru shakes his head so fast his glasses nearly slide off.
“No,” he croaks, then cleared his voice when his voice cracked. “It’s terrible.”
The corner of your mouth tugs up as you unfold yourself from the couch, knees popping audibly. “Agreed.” You stretch again, this time with a little groan that punches straight through Satoru’s gut.
“G’night, Satoru,” you hum, already shuffling toward the kitchen with the popcorn bowl.
He stand abruptly, knees knocking the coffee table again. “Good night.”
The moment you get to the doorway of your bedroom and the door click shut, Satoru collapses back onto the couch. The cushions still hold the warmth of your body, the faint scent of lavender and vanilla clinging to the fabric. He drags a hand down his face.
He knows he's fucked up.
Few weeks later, Satoru finds himself on his gaming chair.
The glow from the monitor cast sharp shadows across his face as he hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard. It's past midnight, the dorm's dead silent. He shouldn’t—he really shouldn’t—but his traitorous fingers type the URL anyway.
The familiar black and pink interface of the website loads with a taunting swiftness. When he clicks the ‘Hot’ tab, there she is, sultrykitty, already on live.
🔴 sultrykitty | play with me & exciting announcement!
Satoru’s breath hitches as the screen fills with the sight of her, sprawl across pink bedsheets in black lace that barely contains the swell of her tits. The lingerie is skimpy, the fabric straining with every breathy laugh she lets out while her fingers trace idle circles around one peaked nipple.
“Aww, you guys are so generous tonight,” she purrs.
His throat goes dry when she hooks a finger under the lace and tugs, exposing more skin to the dim bedroom lighting. “Who wants to see how wet I am already?” She murmurs, and his mouse hovers over the tip button before he catch himself.
“Before we really get into it tonight, kittens,” she says, deliberately dragging her fingertips down the lace of her panties with such slowness. “I’ve got something very special to share.”
The chat erupts instantly—question marks, dollar signs, and demands for her to spill already. She laughs, low and throaty, tilting her head just enough for the camera to catch the coy curve of her smirk beneath the mask.
“Next week marks my one-year anniversary on this little corner of the internet. And I thought… why not celebrate with something extra?”
Her fingers hooks into the waistband of her panties, teasing the elastic before snapping it back against her skin.
“Here’s the deal, whoever tops my tip leaderboard tonight will be the subject for my first Fuck-a-Fan event, with the chance of being part of my livestream next week.” Her voice drips with honeyed mischief as she leans closer to the camera, the swell of her tits pressing against the lace. “Clocks ticking, kittens.”
Satoru doesn't know what got to him but something in him snapped. Must be the raging horniness in his system, but he's sure he wants to join in on the challenge.
A small, C-shaped pink vibrator hums to life in her palm after connecting it to her phone. She taps on the phone screen twice, adjusting the intensity until the toy buzzes loud enough for the mic to pick it up, her lips parting in a silent gasp as she tests the vibration against the insides of her thighs.
“Someone’s eager,” she teases the chat, her own thighs pressing together instinctively at the sensation.
The toy slides in effortlessly, her pussy already slick from the rubbing earlier. She exhales through her nose, fingers trembling slightly as she push the small pink toy deeper. The vibrator pulses inside her, the buzzing hums.
“Look at that,” she breathes, voice already light as she twist the toy halfway out, then back in.
Satoru palms himself through his shorts, his cock already stiffening again at the sight of her skin flushing pink under the toy’s vibrations. “Who wants to see how deep I can take this?” She murmurs, lifting a flesh-colored dildo with protruding veins around the shaft. She brings the toy to her mouth and sucks on it like it’s the real thing.
He pulls his cock out before he realize what he's doing, the ache in his groin overriding any rational thought.
NaughtyFrog55 tipped $2000
“Wow. Thank you, NaughtyFrog55~” She coos. She slides the dildo lower, dragging the tip through her slick folds before pressing it just against her entrance. “Should I?” She teases, biting her lip as she glance at the rising tip counter.
DaddyDark69 tipped $3500
“Guess that’s a yes, then.”
The toy sinks in slowly, her thighs trembling as she rocks it deeper. Satoru’s own grip on his cock tightens, his breath coming in shallow bursts as she arch off the bed, one hand pinching her nipple through the lace.
Satoru knows he’s not much of a spender, hence why he called the other boys “a bunch of stupid motherfuckers” when he learned that they spent their allowances for some girl on screen.
The numbers on his screen blurs as his fingers twitches over the keyboard. He types in an amount. It's nothing, really—just a fraction of his monthly allowance, barely noticeable among the zeroes collecting dust in his account. His parents had wired him enough to live comfortably every month, not that he ever indulged in other things other than the occasional gaming setup upgrade.
But now? Now his pulse thrums against his throat as he watches the tip leaderboard refresh.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, clicking the payment tab. The confirmation screen loads with excruciating slowness, his stomach twisting as the website processes the transaction.
CuriousCat tipped $5000
The cat exploded. The dildo in her hand stuttered as her eyes flicked to the notification, her lips parting in genuine surprise.
“Hmm… someone’s feeling generous tonight,” she purrs, shifting against the pillows as the dildo slides deeper. “What do you want, CuriousCat? Want me to ride this harder? Or-” She taps her phone screen, the vibrator inside her kicking up a notch. “Should I make myself cum for you right now?”
Satoru’s thick and hard cock twitches in his grip, the heat in his gut coiled tighter as she moans—high and wanton—arching her back to take the full length of the toy. The leaderboard refreshes again, his username blazing at the top.
DaddyDark69 tipped $5500
A snarl rips from his throat. His fingers flew across the keyboard, adding another thousand without hesitation. The chat devolved into a frenzy, users spamming shocked emojis as the numbers climbed. On screen, she laughed, breathless and delighted while rolling her hips in slow, filthy circles.
“Looks like we’ve got a competition,” she says. “Better step it up, CuriousCat.”
He would. God help him, he would.
The wet squelch! of the dildo plunging in and out of her folds fills his headphones—a filthy, rhythmic sound that makes Satoru’s cock twitch violently in each of his strokes. She arches off the bed, thighs trembling as she quickens her pace, the swollen veins of the toy glistening with her slick every time she pulls it out halfway before slamming it back in.
“Oh! Oh, oh- fuck,” she gasps, her free hand scrambling to fondle her breasts, her moans pitching higher with every thrust.
Chat notifications explodes across the screen, but Satoru barely registers it all. His entire world narrows to the way her hips stutters when the vibrator inside her pulses harder. Her throat works around a broken whine as she fucks herself on both toys.
“Mhm- yes, yeeees, just like that,” she whispers, her voice fraying at the edges as her thighs clench around nothing. The dildo slips from her fingers momentarily, slick and glistening, before she grabs it again with a shaky laugh. “Oops. Someone's—ah—making me lose my grip…!”
Satoru’s own hand moves faster, his thumb swiping over the leaking head of his cock in time with her ragged breaths.
The moment he hear her sharp inhale, Satoru knows. She's just seconds away from high. His grip tightens around his cock, strokes turning brutal as he chases the same edge.
“F-Fuck, I’m-” Her voice cracks, fingers digging into the sheets as the vibrator inside her pulses mercilessly. The dildo slips from her grasp entirely, flopping onto the bed as her entire body seizes.
Satoru comes with a choked gasp, his vision whiting out as his cock twitches in his fist, spurts of hot, warm cum splattering across his stomach. His fingers tremble as he clicked something on his keyboard.
CuriousCat tipped $10000
The woman on screen is still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly when the notification flashes. Her lips part in genuine chock, eyes widening behind the lace mask.
“Oh my god,” she breathes. “CuriousCat, you-” A disbelieving laugh escapes her as she drags a shaky hand through her sweat-damp hair.
“Guess I’ll be seeing you next week, kitten. I’ll be sending you an e-mail for the deets!”
Satoru’s stomach drops.
His lungs burn as if he’d been sprinting. The realization crashes over him—he’d not only spent an obscene amount of money, but he’d just won the chance to meet and fuck her. On camera.
Live.
He swallows thickly, staring at the mess on his hands, then back to the screen.
“Fuck.”
The hotel keycard feels like it's burning a hole through Satoru’s pocket. He adjusts his glasses for the tenth time in two minutes, staring at the sleek door of Room 1207 like it might swallow him whole. His reflection in the polished brass numbers look ridiculous—wide-eyed, flushed, his usual white shirt swapped for a button-down he’d agonized over in the mirror back at the dorm.
He had even fucking bought a bouquet to make things romantic than they seem.
His thumb hovers over the door sensor. He can still leave. Can still pretend he’d chickened out, that CuriousCat had ghosted her. But his stomach twists at the thought of her—sitting in that room alone, waiting for some faceless stranger who’d paid to fuck her.
The keycard beep. The lock click.
The first thing he sees is the tripod, then the camera and sleek laptop on the table. The figure sitting on the edge of the bed turns—slowly—and Satoru’s blood turns to ice.
The robe slips from her shoulders as she stand up, red lace clinging to her curves. The mask is gone, but the smirk is painfully familiar. Satoru’s knees lock. The keycard slips from his fingers and hits the carpet with a dull thud.
“Satoru?”
The silence is absolute.
It's as if fate is fucking you up real bad. What are the odds that your highest tipper is your fucking nerd ass roommate.
You laugh, a sharp, disbelieving sound that bounces off the room walls before clapping a hand over your mouth.
“Oh my god,” you wheeze, shoulders shaking as you double over. “Oh my fucking god-” Another peal of laughter escapes, high and slightly unhinged, while Satoru stand there like a deer in headlights, the bouquet of roses dangling limply from his hand.
“CuriousCat? Are you serious, Satoru?”
Satoru’s ears burn so hot he's surprised they aren't steaming. His feet moves backward before his brain catches up. “T-This is a mistake-” His voice cracks like he’d swallowed glass, fingers loosening around the bunch of roses still clutched in his fist. “I should—I should go. I’m sorry-”
You cross the room in three strides, bare feet thumping on the carpet.
“No! No, don’t leave,” you say, fingers curling around his wrist before he can bolt. The contact sends a jolt through him, his pulse hammering under your grip.
Up close, he can see a smudge of mascara under your eyes. Proof you had already done your makeup for the stream. He takes a whiff of the scent of your perfume—vanilla and something sharper, like champagne.
Satoru’s throat works silently. The bouquet’s wrapper crinkles in his grip.
You tilt your head, studying him with an intensity that makes his stomach flip. “You spent ten thousand dollars just to walk out?” A slow, wicked grin spreads across your lips. “That’s really pathetic, Satoru.”
His glasses fogs.
Your fingers curl into the front of Satoru’s button down before he can blink, dragging him forward until the roses crush between your bodies. The scent of petals mixes with the sharp, heady musk of his cologne. His breath hitches when your knee nudges between his thighs, pressing just enough to make him twitch against you.
“Maybe fuck the livestream,” you murmur against his mouth, your hand sliding down to palm him through his slacks.
You kiss him like you are starving. Teeth and tongue and no patience. Satoru’s hands flutter useless at his sides before gripping your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. The taste of him is unexpectedly sweet.
Your grip on his shirt tightens as you nip at his lower lip, a low hum vibrating in your throat when he groan. The control is slipping—Satoru can feel it in the way your hips rock against his waist, the sharp little exhales puffing against his skin.
Then, in one deliberate motion, he steps forward. You stumble back with a surprised noise, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the mattress. Satoru doesn't let go—not until your thighs press into the bed.
“Wait-” You start, but the word dissolves into a breathy laugh as he push you down, your hair fanning across the crisp white sheets.
Satoru hovers over you, one knee planting between your thighs. “You always talk too much,” he murmurs, voice rough. His fingers traced the edge of your lace bra. “Always teasing.” The pad of his thumb brushes your nipple through the fabric. You arch into his touch.
“Satoru-”
The sound of his name, wrecked and wanting, unravels something in him. He kisses you again, deeper this time, swallowing your moan as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. The lace stretches taut.
Satoru pulls back just enough to shrug off his button-down in one sharp motion, the fabric sliding down to pool on the floor. Your breath hitches.
Where the hell had those abs been hiding? The sharp V of his hips disappears into his slacks, his chest and arms corded with lean muscle that flexed as he reach down to remove his slacks.
“You’ve been hiding that under those hoodies?” You blurt, eyes skimming the defined ridges of his stomach.
You always knew you got hots for your nerd roommate.
The sheets crumples beneath you as Satoru’s fingers hooks into the waistband of your panties, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of your hips. Then, he tugs them down.
“You’ve watched me do this before,” you whisper.
The mattress dips under Satoru’s weight as he pushes you further back, his hands sliding under your thighs with a roughness that makes your breath catch. He doesn't break eye contact. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your inner thighs, spreading you wider until the cold air of the room hit your slick folds.
You expect a hesitation from him. Awkwardness. Not the way his tongue swipes up your slit in one long, filthy stroke that arch your back off the sheets.
“Fuck, Toru-” Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at the white strands as his mouth sucks your clit with such precision.
His glasses presses uncomfortably against your thigh, but the discomfort evaporates when he curls two fingers inside you, crooking them just right to drag a broken moan from your throat.
The vibrations of his answering groan against your clit sent shocks through your limbs. He's relentless—lapping and slurping at your juices like he's starving. The wet sounds are so obscene and when you dare to glance down, the sight of his flushed face buried between your thighs short-circuited your thoughts.
“You taste better than I imagined,” he rasps against your skin, his breath hot.
The admission punches a ragged laugh out of you before his mouth returns with renewed urgency, his fingers speeding up in a rhythm that matches the desperate roll of your hips. Your thighs trembling around his head.
“I’m gonna cum! Oh, shit, I’m-”
Satoru’s response is to sink his teeth into your inner thigh, the sharp sting tipping you over the edge with a cry that echoed off the walls. He doesn't let up, drinking down every twitch and pulse as you come apart beneath him, his fingers milking you through it until your legs shake too violently to hold them open.
Only then did he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking his fingers clean as he surveys the mess he’d made of you. His glasses are askew, his hair a disaster.
“Want more?” He asks, voice soft.
You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands are on you again. His touches are maddeningly light—barely there, and you squirm, fingers clawing at the sheets.
“Please, hurry up.”
“Ah-ah. Patience.”
His fingers traces idle patterns up your stomach, skirting the underside of your breasts before finally cupping one through the lace. He rubs slow circles over your nipple, the fabric rough against the hardened peak.
“You’re still wearing too much,” he says. His fingers hooks into the straps of your bra. Luckily, the clasps are at the front—his fingers find them immediately. The cool air hit your bare nipples. “Better.”
You can't wrap your head around whether the person in front of you is truly your nerd roommate back at the dorms. Satoru is always quiet and sheepish around you—tripping over his words whenever you talk to him. If you don't know him better, you'd think he’s a whole lot different person.
Satoru hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, his gaze locks onto yours as he pushes them down. The fabric slides past his hips—and holy fuck—your eyes widens at the sight of him springing free. Thick, veined, and already leaking at the tip, his cock stand at attention, the flushed red head glistening with pre-cum.
He smirks, an expression so foreign on his usually shy face. He wraps around his length, giving him slow, teasing strokes that make you almost drool.
“Like what you see?”
You reach out without thinking, your fingers brushing against the heated skin of his shaft. It is intoxicating—the weight heavy down as you trace a thumb over the swollen head, smearing the bead of pre-cum around it.
“Need you inside me,” you whimper. “Please.”
Satoru grips his cock then drags it through your slick folds with a groan. He slaps his length against your clit once, twice—before rubbing the tip in slow circles that had your hips jerking off the mattress.
“Fuck, look at you,” he pushes his glasses up, then swipes a finger through your wetness. His glasses are fogged, his usually neat hair sticking to his forehead as he lines himself up. “So fucking wet for me.”
You brace yourself for the pressure. Satoru doesn't ease in, he sheaths himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke, your back arching as your walls clench around him. His hips stutteres, a broken groan escaping him.
“Shiiit… you’re tight,” he grits out, fingers digging into your hips hard.
You barely had time to adjust before he pulls out almost entirely, only to slam back in with a snap of his hips that made your vision blur. The pace is relentless from the very start—no teasing—as if he had been waiting for this.
One particularly sharp angle had you seeing stairs, your nails raking down his back as he hits that spot just right. Satoru hisses at the sting, his rhythm faltering for a split second before he redoubles his efforts, his thumb finding your clit to rub rough circles that matches the pace of his hips.
“Mhmmm—nnghh!” you could only mumble your way through the ferocious pleasure. “Pleasepleaseplease!”
Drool trickles down your mouth and drips on the sheets below you. His pace never falters—still quick and unrelenting. Until it stutters but he makes sure that in every thrust, the tip of his cock hits the entrance of your cervix like a kiss.
The grip on your hipbone tightens as Satoru suddenly rolls you onto your side, his movements startlingly oozing with confidence. One strong hand hitches your leg up over his shoulder, spreading you obscenely wide while his other arm pins your waist down against the mattress. The angle is brutal. Every thrust now dragging his cock along your clenching walls.
“Look at you,” Satoru pants, his glasses fogging as he fucks you into oblivion. “Taking me so deep like this, fuuuck- you feel so good.” The wet slap of skin grows louder as he picks up the pace, his balls slapping against your ass with each snap.
His glasses slides crookedly down his nose, sweat beading along his forehead as he hold himself there, buried deep, while his fingertips dig crescent moons into the flesh of your thigh.
“I’m close. I’m so close—can I cum inside? Please?”
You barely recognize the desperate, unraveled version of him. The way his cock twitches inside you, the frantic flutter of his pulse beneath your palm when you slide a hand up his chest.
Your head bobs in response. “Yes! O-Oh my god, yes!”
Satoru’s entire body tenses then he flips you on your back, completely facing him again. He shoves your thighs wider, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise as he fucks deep into you.
The first spurt of warmth flooding you pulls a choked out moan from your throat. His head drops to the hollow of your neck, his groans vibrating against your skin as he pumps his cum deep, his cock pulsing inside you. You clench around him reflexively, milking him through it until his fingers tremble where they grip you.
“Yeah… fuck, you feel so fucking good,” his words dissolves into a shuddering exhale, his forehead pressing against your damp skin as he ride out the aftershocks. “I’ll fill you up reaaal good.”
He came so much you can feel him leaking around the edges where you're both still joined, the wet sound filthy when he finally pulls out with a wince. His cum oozes out of your flushed pussy almost immediately, the sight of it pulling a dazed laugh from you. Satoru’s ears burn redder than you’d ever seen them.
His hand shake as he pushes his glasses up his nose, his chest still heaving.
“That was…”
You arch a brow, stretching lazily beneath him as you drag a finger through the mess between your folds. “Speechless?”
Satoru’s grin hit you like a lightning strike. Before you can even process the sudden shift in his expression, his arms hooks under your knees and shoulders, lifting you off the bed with such strength.
“Hey! Put me down! I’m still sore!”
Your protest dissolves into breathless laughter as he carries you through the suite then to the bathroom. The sudden brightness making you squint.
“Nah uh. I want round two.”
Looks like the curious cat just found his cockiness.