#masturbate together

[dreambailey]

Masturbating is fun.

[crybabygirlwithcoffee]

I need a dom daddy to grope me and touch my cunt until im dripping down my legs, shaking, whimpering mess 🤭

[meanbitchaliras]

mean! bully! reader spits on gojo and he gets hard.

tags : feminine mean reader × nerd gojo satoru

(reader is indicated to be plus size, but my smaller princess can read this too obviously, gojo is submissive here)

ALSO POSTED ON A03

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78492931

Gojo Satoru was not a loser. Of course he was not. A prodigy, the best of the best. The man studied at the most prestigious universities in the world, fully funded scholarship, not that he needed one. His family was undeniably wealthy. Even so, with plenty of connections and shit ton of money, he pursued everything he had with his own intellect. Currently he is doing a major in aeronautical engineering, he worked hard for it, too hard.

 Satoru's white hair, bright blue eyes stand out like a sore thumb among the dozens of students in the courtyard. He towered over most of them  standing tall at approximately 6 feet and 4 inches. He walked with his usual confident stance– well, fake confident stance. Anyone could tell he was pretending to be unbothered, but he couldn't mask it well, his eyes were wandering left and right behind the thick glasses. He looked like he knew it all, and he was, yet he lacked feeling normal in social settings. Satoru was smart, intelligent, a genius, but his awkwardness was evident to anyone who spoke to him.  And you did speak to him, on a regular basis. He was your favorite victim after all. Satoru might have been gifted, he might have been a pure vessel of talent, but he was also pathetic. So pathetic, so timid, so small. What a fucking loser. 

 “There you are, I was looking for you in the cafeteria.” You said twirling your hair with your finger, nails freshly painted with your favorite color, he noticed it, obviously because you had made him pay for it. You looked up at him, your long eyelashes batting at him with a cunning manner, eyeliner making your eyes look more pronounced.

 “I don't eat at the cafeteria, you know that. They don't serve healthy food, cooking so much together at the same time destroys the taste of the dish.” He said, trying not to look at your body. 

Fuck. Your body. His fucking bane of existence. So soft, so plump, so fucking ethereal. You were a big girl, and you showed it off, rightfully so. Standing there in a pink dress that ended at your mid thighs, the end swaying occasionally in the wind giving him slight views of your thick thighs, your chubby legs looking more pronounced because of the high heels you wore. You always wore high heels. He wanted to ask you, several times before, isn't it impractical? Isn't it annoying? Doesn't it hurt? If it did, could he pick you up and carry you around? Or maybe let his hands work at your feet, massage it so nice that you call him a good boy. 

“Are you talking back, Satoru?” You raised your eyebrow with a scoff, how dare he speak like that? He was supposed to apologize for not being there.  

“I-I wasn't talking back….I was just…”  You smiled as he stuttered. Good. Turning back you make your way to the exit, he followed, obviously.  

Your place is near and it's not hard to get there even quicker when you make him carry your stuff. Satoru looked somewhat odd with a designer pink bag under his arm, his left hand carrying your big baby blue water bottle, and your small Coach purse which didn't fit in the other bag, on the other hand he carried your morning coffee. At first glance it may look like it was another case of a cute  couple, but he knew better than that. He wasn't your boyfriend, he hadn't proved himself as deserving till now. Satoru was beneath you, always had been, since the day you laid your eyes on him. That is why he always walked five steps behind you, not that he minded. Your ass looked so perfect in that little dress.  

Satoru sat on your room's floor on the pink carpet, doing your assignment like a good boy as you scrolled through your closet looking for outfits for the party at night. You didn't ask him to, didn't have to. He knew his place. He would not want to upset you more after this morning. 

 “This purple one or the red one?” You asked him to hold up two dresses. The purple one was a strapless dress, with precise and small work done on it, it looked more appropriate for a picnic rather than a party.

  The red one on the other hand was another mini dress, but this one had thin straps, the main material was slightly shiny with a slit around the right thigh. The main issue though was the neckline. It was scandalous, going as low as it could get. His eyes went wide as he looked over it. 

 “Staring like a fool, so this one i guess huh?” You disappeared into the bathroom taking the red dress. He sighed, he didn't know how to control himself around him. It was easier to understand theorems, to apply formulas. They were predictable most of the time, they followed steps, even if he got a question wrong he could start all over again.  With you, it was different. If he had messed up even a little bit, he couldn't start over. Satoru never knew what goes down behind your doll eyes, he didn't understand what it meant when you smirked looking down at him. Were you satisfied or were you mad? When you tilted your head and crossed your arms, were you planning something or it was just a habit you had. What did it mean when you would slap him hard and then trace your fingers along the mark? What did it mean when you would pull on his hair and then rub his head like a dog? 

“Stop staring at the wall like an idiot.” You emerged from the bathroom wearing that dress. 

 Fuck.Fuck.Fuck. 

 You looked gorgeous, the color made your tan skin pop, the way your big tits were placed, the generous amounts of cleavage even showed the mole you had on your breast. The material hugged your body like skin, he could read the curves of your round soft tummy and the dip around your hips. Then you shifted slightly, the dress riding up ever so slightly around the slit because it was so tight. You looked sinful, so perfect, standing before him knowing damn well you were his wildest fantasy. He felt a familiar stirring in his pants. 

“Say something stupid.” You ordered with a smirk. You knew you looked hot, it was a given. But you had to hear it from his mouth. 

 “I-It….um…Y-you…you look good.” He managed to say. 

“Only good?”

 Satoru shook his head, “You look really…pretty.”  

“Boring.”  

He looked up, “Y/n. A goddess, you look like a goddess. You are perfect.”  

You felt satisfied enough. “Hmpf, of course I am, you don't have to tell me.”

 You roll your eyes and turn your back to him, walking to the vanity table checking yourself in the mirror. His eyes followed, and then his throat went dry. It was backless, of course it was.  

“Just because I am bringing you to the party doesn't mean you are a part of the group. I need someone to click my pictures.”

 “Yes, Y/n.” 

 “Don't talk to anyone there.” 

“Okay, Y/n.”

 “Don't drink.” 

“Okay.” 

 “Don't stay too close, or too far.” 

 “Okay.”

  “Don't look at any girl there.”  

He nodded.  

“Goddamn, you are agreeing to everything, will you get on your knees and bark if I told you to?” 

 He stayed silent. Not because he was disagreeing, but because he could already imagine it. He had already been slapped by you a few times when you were angry, you were handsy, you pinched his cheek when bored, pulled on his hair when annoyed, threw things at him one time when you were drunk. 

 “Shit,” you walked up to him and he played with the pencil in his hand, “you would, you would get on your knees and bark.”  

Silence.  

“Look at me when I am speaking to you.”  Satoru looked up expecting to see an evil smile or a smirk, but you had this calm but calculating look on your face.

 “Get on your knees and bark.” 

Satoru couldn't afford to hesitate, and he wondered why, you were from a stable and comfortable background, not as wealthy as him, you never blackmailed him with anything, never bullied him before anyone. You were cruel when no one looked, like right now. Your power over him was natural, as if fate was always supposed to play out this way.  So he did it, he got on his knees. Satoru's face was burning, and he felt this strange churning in his stomach. His hands were shaky and he couldn't face her. With his hands behind his back, face turned to his left, he opened his mouth. 

“W..w-woof…” You laughed, the same mocking laugh when he was being pathetic. 

“The Gojo heir can't even bark properly? Don't fucking piss me off. Look at me while you do it, dog.”

 He gulped, the feeling in his stomach intensifying, his pants getting tighter by the second. Satoru looked up at you again. 

“Woof…woof..” 

Was he tearing up? Maybe he was. It was so humiliating, he felt so small, so damn small. But it felt so right. Being on his knees before her, seeing her smile when he did bark. 

 “Good boy.” 

 His cock was rock hard and he knew you could see it. He wasn't small and by the way he was leaking pre cum he was sure he had a wet spot on his jeans already.  

“Don't you think good boys deserve treats?” 

You asked him as you stepped closer. Satoru whimpered, nodding along.  

“Open your mouth then.”  He didn't need to be told twice to open his mouth like the loser he was. He waited eagerly for her to do something, his heart thumping so loudly in its cage. You spit directly on his tongue exactly three times before you tell him to swallow. He moaned when he swallowed and opened his mouth for more.  

Greedy little dog. 

 Satoru whimpered when you spat, he loved the way you tasted, he would take anything you gave him. You stepped right before him and pulled his hair back.  

“You little loser, you like this huh? Being spat on like a common whore?” You asked him, feeling hot inside your core yourself. His crush on you was obvious, but the way he was willing to degrade himself for you raised another level of excitement within you. Satoru nodded. 

 “Look at yourself, getting hard because I am mean to you. Is this what you are?” You pressed on his crotch with your feet earning a moan from him. It's desperate, it's loud, he didn't hide his eagerness as he pushed against your feet. You rubbed it across a few times, feeling his thick length against the palm of your feet. 

 “What are you gonna do about it? You dog, getting hard just because I put on a little dress. So fucking pathetic.”

 “I can't help it. You are so pretty, so beautiful, I can't help it.” 

 “Can't help being a little bitch.”  

“Y/n, please…Can I touch myself? Please?” 

 You scoffed, “Tch. No control over yourself.” 

 “Please, I will be so good. Please. I need to get off. I'll make you so proud. Let me…” 

 You sat on your bed, crossing your legs, “Get off then.”

  He unbuttons his pants in a hurry, pushing his boxers down to reveal his impressive size. It's long and thick, and had a curve to it with a purple looking head, already leaking ore cum as if he was a teenage boy. He worked his hands up and down, eyes not leaving your body. He moaned when his fingers brushed over the head, whimpering when got to the base. 

 “Y/n…So pretty, you are so perfect….Fuck…”

 He panted religiously, biting his lips hard enough to draw blood. 

“Play with your balls too,” you said, your cheeks feeling tingly. This was unexpected but it was so fucking hot. You felt yourself getting wetter, wanting to finish yourself, but you could wait. He did as he was told, his free hand going his heavy balls, fondling with them as his other hand pumped his dick. Satoru could feel himself getting closer and closer, and with your hazy eyes over him, he was so sure that he couldn't get back from this. 

 “My beautiful Y/n…I'm so fucking close Y/n.”  “Cum then.”

  He finished soon after that, ropes of white liquid spurting over his abs and some on your carpet, it was an obscene amount of cum and you wondered if he would produce the same amount if he was balls deep inside you. He panted, hand working over his length as he got off his high.

 “T-Thank you…Y/n. For letting me.” 

 You uncrossed your legs, “Don't thank me and come here.” He crawled to you, brain not working to its full capacity just yet. You spread your legs, showing the wet spot on your lace panties.

 “Take care of this like a good boy will you?” 

Satoru didn't know what good deeds he did in his previous life for this absolute blessing. You were a goddess sitting before him, looking so beautiful with your legs spread, your fat cunt hidden behind the thin layer of your panties.  His fingers moved slowly between your thighs, he looked up asking for permission, you nodded. He gulped, pushing your panties down your thighs.  

Oh god.  

You were so beautiful down there, your plump lips glistening with arousal, he bit his lip as he touched around on a fold, carefully spreading your lips with his fingers. He was  getting hard again seeing your insides. He rubbed his fingers around it, earning a soft moan from you, making him feel slightly easier. 

 Satoru leaned in licking a stripe along your slit making you moan, you tasted good, so fucking good. He had dreamt of this moment so many times before, waking up in the middle of the night with soiled pants. But here he was, face buried between your thighs as if he was a starving man. As he got confident his licks got deliberate. 

 “Oh…god…Fuck..Satoru..” You whined softly feeling him suck, pushing his tongue inside you while he moaned himself. He pulled back, inserting one finger inside you, pushing it back and forth slowly, then two. You grinded against his digits, your own fingers never went as far as he did. He found your clit, immediately going to lick on it, sucking on the little bundle of nerves with fervor. 

 “Ah..fuck…yes..like that..” You gave him better access, your back arching. He was good. So good. His tongue was warm and his fingers soon found your G-spot. He felt your walls tighten around his fingers, making him add the third finger, scissoring your wet cunt and stretching you out. Satoru still sucked on your slit, lapping at your juices. 

What felt like hours later he bit on your clit, earning a yell from you as you felt yourself orgasm, your thighs shaking, lips parted, nipples hardened against the dress.  Satoru didn't stop, he ate you out as you came, drinking your juices eagerly, giving small licks to your sensitive clit.  His face was glistening when he pulled back, you looked down on him, feeling satisfied and then intrigued again.  

“Got hard again?” 

 He nodded, looking intoxicated.  

“Wanna cum again?”  

“Y-Yes please Y/n.”

You took off your dress, throwing it in a corner of your room. Your heavy breasts now bare, fat puffy nipples hardened from the arousal you just had, “You stretched me out real good just now, why don't you come up and find out if your pathetic cock fits or not?” 

 He lost his virginity that night, turns out he did fit, he fit so fucking well that you milked him dry until passed out. Even then that was the best outcome he could ask for.  After all, Gojo Satoru was a pathetic loser.

[nalasoskunk]

aren’t you so pretty when you touch yourself?ೄྀ

cw!!⪼masturbation. soft dom reader. fingering. handjob. praise kink. choso being overwhelmed and submissive. voyeurism (him watching you). slight overstimulation. very soft aftercare.

the room is quiet except for the faint rustle of sheets and your own soft breathing. you’re lying on your back in the middle of the bed, legs comfortably spread, one hand slowly circling your clit while two fingers of the other press lazily inside yourself. the slick sounds are quiet but unmistakable in the stillness.

choso sits at the edge of the mattress, completely still, dark eyes fixed on every small movement of your fingers. his long hair falls loosely around his face, and those marks under his eyes look even softer in the low light. he doesn’t touch himself yet — just watches, chest rising and falling a little heavier with each passing second. his sweats are already tented, the outline of his thick cock obvious, a small wet spot darkening the fabric where he’s leaking.

“you look so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. “the way your fingers move… how wet you’re getting. is that all for me?”

you hum softly, eyes half-lidded as you look at him. your fingers keep their slow rhythm, sliding in and out with wet little sounds.

choso swallows hard, his gaze dropping back down between your legs. his hands rest on his thighs, fingers twitching like he’s fighting the urge to reach out or touch himself. you can see the way his cock twitches in his sweats every time you let out a quiet moan.

“keep watching,” you say gently, voice warm but with that soft command underneath. “don’t look away.”

he nods immediately, lips parting on a shaky exhale. “i won’t. i could watch you forever.”

you smile at that, spreading your legs a little wider so he can see better. your fingers glide through your folds, collecting slick before you rub slow, firm circles over your clit. a soft sigh escapes you, hips rolling up into your own touch. choso’s breathing gets heavier, his own hand finally drifting down to palm himself through his sweats, squeezing lightly like he’s trying to relieve some pressure without fully giving in.

“take them off,” you tell him, still touching yourself. “let me see you too.”

choso obeys without hesitation, lifting his hips to push his sweats and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free. it’s thick and flushed, the head shiny with precum that beads at the tip and slowly drips down the shaft. he wraps one large hand around himself and gives a slow stroke, eyes never leaving your pussy.

“fuck…” he breathes, the word slipping out like he couldn’t stop it. “you’re dripping down your thighs. looks so warm… so soft.”

you let out a quiet moan at his words, sliding your fingers deeper inside yourself, curling them just right. your other hand keeps working your clit in steady circles. the wet sounds grow a little louder as you get more turned on from his gaze.

choso matches your pace without even realizing it at first — slow, deliberate strokes of his hand up and down his cock, thumb occasionally swiping over the sensitive head to spread the precum. every time you moan or your hips twitch, his grip tightens and his breath hitches.

“does it feel good?” he asks, voice hoarse. his eyes are glassy, completely focused on the way your fingers disappear inside you. “touching yourself while i watch?”

“so good,” you whisper, biting your lip as pleasure builds. “especially knowing you’re touching yourself too… because of me.”

he groans quietly at that, hips bucking up into his fist once before he forces himself to slow down again. “it’s always because of you. everything is.”

(better be)

the two of you fall into a shared rhythm — your fingers pumping in and out of your soaked pussy, his large hand stroking his thick cock in time with your movements. the room fills with the quiet, intimate sounds: wet squelching from you, the soft rhythmic slide of skin on skin from him, and both of your heavy breathing.

choso’s free hand grips the sheets tightly, like he’s anchoring himself. his chest is flushed, nipples hard, long hair sticking slightly to his forehead. he looks so pretty like this — lost in the sight of you, trying so hard to stay controlled even as his strokes get a little messier.

“you’re getting close, aren’t you?” you ask softly, noticing the way his thighs are starting to tremble. your own fingers speed up just a fraction, rubbing your clit faster while you curl them against that spot inside you.

he nods, biting his lower lip.

“y-yeah… watching you is too much. the sounds you make… the way you’re shining… i don’t know how long i can last.”

“then don’t hold back, baby,” you murmur, voice gentle but firm. “cum with me. let me see how good it feels for you.”

your words push him closer. choso’s strokes turn a little faster, a little tighter, his thumb pressing firmly over the head on every upstroke. his eyes stay locked on your fingers, watching them plunge in and out, coated in your slick.

you feel your orgasm building fast now — heat pooling low in your belly, thighs starting to shake. “choso… i’m close—”

“me too,” he gasps, voice breaking. “please— let me see you cum. i want to watch you fall apart.”

that does it. your back arches off the bed as your orgasm hits, a soft, broken moan spilling from your lips. your walls clench around your fingers, slick dripping down as you keep rubbing your clit through the waves. choso’s name falls from your mouth like a prayer while pleasure crashes over you.

the sight of you cumming is what breaks him.

choso lets out a deep, wrecked groan, his hips stuttering as thick ropes of cum spill over his fist and onto his stomach. he keeps stroking himself through it, slower now, drawing out every pulse while his eyes stay glued to you, drinking in every twitch and gasp.

for a long moment the only sounds are your shared heavy breathing.

then choso shifts, moving closer until he’s lying beside you. he doesn’t bother cleaning up yet — just pulls you gently against his chest, one arm wrapping around your waist. his skin is warm, heart still racing under your cheek. he presses soft, almost shy kisses to the top of your head, his cum-smeared hand resting carefully on your hip.

“that was… so beautiful,”

he whispers against your hair, voice soft and hoarse.

“watching you like that… touching yourself because of me. and cumming together… i don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you.”

you smile, nuzzling into his neck and tracing lazy patterns on his chest with your fingertips. “good. because we’re not done yet, baby.”

he lets out a quiet, content hum, holding you tighter. his free hand finally moves down between your legs again, not to tease, just resting there gently, feeling the warmth and wetness.

“can i touch you now?” he asks, almost shy, even after everything. “i want to feel how wet you still are… and maybe make you cum again. with my fingers this time. if you’ll let me.”

you tilt your head up to kiss him slow and deep, tasting the quiet devotion on his lips.

“go ahead... touch me. we’ve got all night.”

choso’s fingers rest gently between your legs, not moving yet, just feeling the warmth and the slick mess you made. his breathing is still uneven against your hair, his chest rising and falling under your cheek. the sticky warmth of his own cum is smeared across his stomach and your hip where his hand rests, but he doesn’t seem to care. he just holds you closer, like he needs the contact to stay grounded.

“you’re still so wet,” he whispers, voice hoarse and awed. his fingertips glide slowly through your folds, careful, almost reverent. “even after you came… it’s dripping. because of me?” he said with dumb doubt

you hum softly, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “mhm baby. always because of you.”

he lets out a shaky breath, and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh where it’s already starting to harden again. choso has always recovered fast, but tonight it feels like he’s barely softening at all.

you shift a little, guiding his hand with your own. “go on. touch me properly. two fingers, nice and slow.”

choso whines and nods against your neck, obedient as always. he slides two thick fingers through your slick before pressing them inside you, inch by inch, until they’re buried deep. the stretch is perfect, and you both moan quietly at the feeling. he curls them gently, searching, until he finds that spot that makes your hips jerk.

“ right there? ma’am” he asks, voice low and focused, like he’s memorizing every reaction.

“right there,” you breathe, rolling your hips slowly against his hand. “just like that. good~ boy.”

the praise makes him shudder. his fingers start moving in a steady rhythm — slow, deep pumps that make wet sounds every time he pushes back in. his thumb finds your clit and rubs in careful circles, not too fast, just enough to build the heat again. he watches your face the whole time, dark eyes intense and glassy, drinking in every flutter of your lashes and every soft gasp that escapes you.

“you feel so good inside miss” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“warm… tight… squeezing my fingers like you don’t want to let go. i could do this for hours.”

you reach down between you and wrap your hand around his cock. he’s fully hard again, thick and hot, still a little sticky from his last orgasm. choso’s breath hitches sharply when you start stroking him — slow, matching the pace of his fingers inside you.

“ah— fuck,” he groans, forehead pressing against yours. his hips twitch forward into your fist, but he tries to stay controlled. “your hand… feels too good princess i’m already leaking again.”

you can feel it — fresh precum dripping over your fingers as you twist your wrist on the upstroke, thumb brushing over the sensitive head. every time you squeeze a little tighter he lets out these quiet, broken sounds, half-whimper, half-moan, that go straight to your core.

the two of you move together like that for a long time — slow, intimate, completely focused on each other. his fingers curl and thrust inside you while your hand works his cock in steady strokes. the room fills with the wet sounds of skin and slick, mixed with your shared breathing and soft praises.

“you’re doing so well, choso,” you murmur against his lips before kissing him deep and slow. “making me feel so good with your fingers… such a perfect boy for me.”

he whimpers into the kiss, fingers speeding up just a fraction before he catches himself and slows back down. “i want you to cum again,” he whispers when you pull apart, voice trembling with need. “please. i need to feel it around my fingers. want to watch your face when you fall apart.”

you smile, tightening your grip on his cock and stroking faster. “then make me cum, baby. and you can cum with me again.”

choso’s eyes flutter shut for a second, overwhelmed, before they open again — darker, more desperate. he adds a third finger, stretching you fuller, and his thumb presses firmer circles on your clit. his thrusts turn deeper, more purposeful, hitting that spot every single time.

your orgasm builds slower this time, a warm wave rolling through you instead of crashing. you keep stroking him through it, feeling his cock throb and twitch in your hand, the head slick and swollen.

“choso— i’m close,” you gasp, hips grinding down onto his fingers.

“me too,” he chokes out, voice wrecked. “can’t hold it— you feel too good—”

you cum first, walls clenching hard around his fingers as pleasure washes over you in deep, rolling pulses. your hand keeps moving on his cock, and that pushes him over the edge right after. choso groans your name into your neck, hips jerking as thick ropes of cum spill over your fist and onto both your stomachs, pulse after pulse until he’s trembling and oversensitive.

for a long while neither of you move. his fingers stay buried inside you, gently rocking through the aftershocks, while your hand loosens its grip but doesn’t let go.

choso nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses along your skin. his voice is barely a whisper when he speaks.

“i love you,” he says, simple and raw. “love making you feel good. love when you touch me. love everything about this… about us.”

you card your fingers through his messy hair, holding him close. “i love you too, choso. you’re so good for me.”

he pulls his fingers out slowly, bringing them up to his mouth to lick them clean with a quiet, satisfied hum. then he reaches for the sheet, gently wiping the mess from your skin and his own with careful, tender movements.

once you’re both a little cleaner, he pulls you fully into his arms, your leg draped over his hip so you’re pressed together everywhere. his cock is soft now, resting warm against your thigh, and he seems perfectly content just to hold you.

“can we stay like this a little longer?” he asks, almost shy again. his fingers trace slow patterns on your back. “i just… want to feel you. all of you. no rush.”

you smile against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly settle.

“yeah, baby. we can stay like this as long as you want.”

he lets out a soft, content sigh and tightens his hold, like he never wants to let go.

fin🏁

a/n🦅:omg i actually lovr thisr

one of my fav scenarios ever

[evan-mahros]

[sholawilde]

[graceywritess]

“CAUGHT” ⋆˙⟡ sub!billie x top!reader, Gxg imagine

contains: masturbation, mentions of watching p0rn, fingering, dirty talk, and more.

──── ୨୧ ────

the apartment smells faintly of rain and the cedar candle that’s been burning low on the coffee table since morning. you push the front door shut with your hip, keys jangling as they drop into the shallow ceramic bowl by the entrance. your blazer is already half-off one shoulder; the day dragged, meetings bleeding into one another until the clock finally let you go at six forty-three.

you kick your loafers off right there in the hallway, left one thuds against the baseboard, right one cartwheels a little farther, and the cool hardwood kisses the arches of your feet through thin socks. relief spreads up your calves like cool water. you don’t bother hanging anything up. coat stays draped over the arm of the couch. bag hits the floor with a soft clunk.

the living room is dim, only the hallway light spilling in behind you. billie’s sneakers, chunky black moon boots, are neatly lined up by the door, laces tucked inside. she’s home. your pulse does that stupid little skip it always does when you know she’s waiting somewhere in the apartment.

you pad down the hall, floorboards creaking under your weight in that familiar way. the bedroom door is closed. not latched, just pushed to. a thin bar of warm lamplight glows under the bottom edge, butter-yellow against the dark wood.

you hesitate for half a second, then turn the knob slowly, easing the door open without a sound.

the first thing that hits you is the sound: soft, rhythmic clicks layered beneath breathy, broken moans, tinny through laptop speakers turned low but not low enough. the air feels thicker in here, warm and heavy with something sweet-musky—her skin, her arousal, the faint trace of vanilla from her lotion.

billie’s on the bed.

knees bent, thighs splayed wide, black oversized hoodie shoved up to bunch under her arms. sports bra rucked above her breasts, nipples peaked and flushed dark against pale skin. one hand works steadily between her legs, two fingers sliding in and out, slick and shining in the lamplight, while the other grips the edge of the open laptop perched on a pillow in front of her. her head is tipped back against the headboard, lips parted, cheeks blotchy red, eyes half-lidded and glassy as she stares at the screen.

she doesn’t hear you at first.

then the door gives the tiniest creak.

her whole body jerks like she’s been shocked. hand flies away from her cunt with a wet sound that makes your mouth water. the other slams the laptop shut, sharp clap echoing in the quiet room. she yanks the duvet up to her chin in one frantic motion, eyes huge, guilty, glittering with embarrassment and leftover heat.

“shit! fuck!” her voice cracks, still thick and hoarse from moaning. “you’re… fuck, you’re early.”

you don’t answer right away.

instead you step fully inside, nudge the door shut behind you with your heel. the latch clicks softly. you reach back and twist the lock, another small, deliberate sound that feels louder than it should in the charged silence.

billie’s watching you like she’s waiting for anger, for teasing, for anything.

you let a slow smirk curl your mouth.

“caught you,” you say, voice low and rough from the day.

she swallows hard. you watch the bob of her throat. “i- i wasn’t—”

“you were.” you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your trousers. the fabric is still warm from your body. “and you looked fucking gorgeous doing it.”

her eyes flick down to your hands, then back up to your face. pupils blown wide. she doesn’t deny it this time.

you pop the button of your slacks. drag the zipper down slow, obscene rasp in the quiet. shimmy the material over your hips; it slides down your thighs, pools at your ankles in a soft heap. you step out, kick them aside. your blouse comes next—buttons slipping free one by one until cream silk parts down the middle. you shrug it off your shoulders; it flutters to the floor like a surrender.

now you’re standing there in only black briefs and socks, skin prickling in the cooler air outside the hallway. your nipples tighten instantly under her stare.

billie’s tongue darts out, wets her bottom lip. her breathing is shallow, quick.

you climb onto the bed.

mattress dips under your knees. she scoots back instinctively but the headboard stops her. you crawl over her legs until you’re straddling her thighs, duvet bunched between your bodies like a soft barrier.

you reach for the laptop.

she makes a small, embarrassed noise, half whine, half protest.

“relax,” you murmur.

you flip it open.

screen wakes instantly. paused frame: two women, skin flushed and gleaming, one with dark hair spilling over the other’s pale thighs, mouth pressed to her cunt. timestamp reads twenty-three minutes and twelve seconds. title bar is blunt, filthy: needy girls scissor until they squirt.

you press play.

sound blooms—wet smacks, high-pitched whimpers, murmured “yeah, just like that, fuck—” in a husky voice. you nudge the volume up two notches. now you can hear every detail: the creak of whatever surface they’re on, the hitch in the receiving girl’s breath every time the other’s tongue flicks over her clit, the slick glide of skin on skin.

billie’s eyes lock on the screen again. pupils so wide the blue is almost gone. her hands are still clutching the blanket like it’s armor.

you lean down until your mouth brushes the shell of her ear—warm breath making her shiver violently.

“it’s okay,” you whisper, lips grazing cartilage. “you don’t have to hide it.”

she exhales shakily.

“i—i didn’t mean for you to—”

“i know.” you nose along her jaw, inhale the bergamot-and-sex scent clinging to her skin. “and i’m glad i did. keep going.”

she makes a tiny, wounded sound in her throat.

“i can’t—with you right here—”

“you can.” you sit back on your heels, giving her a few inches of space. your hands rest light on her knees, thumbs stroking slow arcs over soft skin. “you were doing it so pretty when i walked in. clit all swollen, fingers buried deep. don’t stop now just because i’m watching.”

on screen the women shift—dark-haired one slides two fingers inside, curls them, pumps slow and deliberate. the other arches, mouth falling open in a silent scream, thighs trembling.

billie’s hand twitches under the blanket.

“touch yourself,” you say quietly. “let me see how you like it.”

her gaze flicks to yours, searching, nervous, hungry.

then, slowly, she lets the duvet slip down to her waist.

breasts bare, flushed pink at the centers. stomach quivering with every breath. she slides her right hand back down, fingertips brushing through the neat triangle of dark hair before parting slick folds. the moment she touches her clit she gasps—sharp, needy sound that shoots straight between your legs.

you hum low approval.

“good girl.”

she bites her lip so hard the skin blanches.

you reach behind you, unhook your bra with one hand, let it fall forward. nipples pebble instantly in the air; you feel her eyes drop to your chest, then lower. heat crawls up your spine.

“take yours off too,” she whispers, voice wrecked.

you hook thumbs into the waistband of your briefs, lift your hips, drag them down your thighs. cool air hits your soaked cunt—you hiss softly at the sudden exposure. kick the underwear off the end of the bed; it lands somewhere near your trousers.

now you’re both bare.

she’s staring openly, greedily taking in the way your thighs glisten, the way your clit peeks out swollen and dark.

you settle beside her, propped on one elbow so you can watch her hand and the screen at the same time. your bare thigh presses hot against hers; skin-on-skin contact feels electric, sparks skittering up your leg.

billie starts moving again—slow, slippery circles over her clit. every time she passes over the hood her breath hitches. her other hand drifts up, cups her breast, pinches the nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling slow.

the porn keeps going: slick sounds growing louder, moans climbing higher, one girl begging “harder—please—make me come—”

you can’t resist anymore.

you reach down, spread your own lips with two fingers, feel how drenched you are—hot, slippery, aching. your middle finger glides over your clit and your hips jerk involuntarily.

billie notices immediately.

her gaze snaps to your hand, then back to your face.

“together?” she breathes.

“together.”

you match her rhythm—slow, teasing circles at first. pressure builds steadily, heat coiling tight in your belly. every whimper she lets out makes your clit throb harder, like there’s a wire connecting the two of you.

on screen they switch—now the one who was receiving straddles the other’s face, grinding down slow and filthy. thighs flex, muscles jumping under skin. you can see the other woman’s tongue working, see the way the rider’s hips stutter every time it flicks over her clit.

billie’s breathing turns ragged.

“fuck—this part—” she chokes. “watching her ride her face—god—”

you glance at her. her fingers are moving faster now—dipping inside every few strokes, coming out coated and shiny. the wet sounds from her cunt are louder than the laptop speakers.

“you like that?” you ask, voice rough. “watching her grind down, take what she needs?”

she nods frantically. “yeah—yeah—fuck—makes me so wet—”

you speed up your own hand. your clit pulses under your fingertips—hot, swollen, desperate. you can hear your own wetness now—soft, obscene clicks that match hers beat for beat.

the room smells like sex—musky, sweet, warm. sweat beads along your hairline; a drop slides down your spine.

billie’s free hand reaches for you suddenly—fingers curling around your wrist, nails biting skin.

“touch me,” she pleads. “please—need your fingers—”

you don’t hesitate.

you slide your hand over hers, guide her fingers away. she’s soaked—hot, puffy, dripping. you circle her clit the way you know she loves—firm, steady pressure, no teasing, just relentless friction.

she cries out—sharp, broken. hips buck hard into your palm.

“fuck—yes—right there—”

you lean in, kiss her hard. her mouth opens immediately; tongues slide together, messy and desperate. she tastes like mint gum and salt and her own arousal—she must have sucked her fingers clean earlier.

when you pull back she’s panting against your lips, pupils blown black.

“inside,” she begs. “need them inside—please—”

you push two fingers in—slow at first, letting her feel every inch, then deeper until your knuckles press against her entrance. she clenches hard around you—velvet heat gripping tight. you curl them, stroke that spot that makes her sob.

“there—fuck—there—”

you pump steadily—deep, deliberate thrusts—thumb still working tight circles over her clit.

she’s trembling all over—thighs shaking, stomach jumping with every breath. sweat shines on her collarbones, between her breasts.

on screen the woman comes—loud, shattered moans, hips stuttering violently, thighs clamping around the other’s head as she rides through it. you see the glisten of wetness on the giver’s chin, see the way her tongue keeps moving even after.

billie watches, transfixed.

“she’s coming—oh god—she’s coming so hard—”

you feel billie’s cunt flutter wildly around your fingers.

“you’re close too, aren’t you?” you murmur against her throat, teeth grazing skin.

“yes—yes—don’t stop—please—”

you don’t.

you fuck her harder—faster—curling on every inward stroke. your own hand is back between your legs, rubbing frantic circles over your clit. the dual sensations—her tight heat squeezing your fingers, your own clit throbbing under your touch—push you right to the edge.

billie’s hand flies to your hair, gripping hard enough to sting.

“gonna—gonna come—fuck—”

“come for me,” you rasp. “let me feel it—let me feel you soak my hand.”

she does.

her whole body locks up—back arching off the mattress, mouth open in a silent scream that breaks into a raw, keening cry. her cunt clamps down hard—rhythmic, pulsing waves that milk your fingers. wet heat gushes around you, drips down your wrist, soaks the sheet beneath her.

the sight—the sound—the feel of her coming undone—tips you over.

your own orgasm slams into you—sharp, blinding, hips jerking against your hand as pleasure spikes white-hot behind your eyes. you moan her name—low, wrecked—into the crook of her neck. your cunt clenches around nothing, fluttering hard, slick running down your thighs.

you keep moving through the aftershocks—gentle strokes for her, soft circles for yourself—until she whines from overstimulation and you both slow, then stop.

the porn is still playing—another scene starting, softer, slower kisses and wandering hands.

you reach over with your free hand, close the laptop with a quiet click.

silence rushes in—broken only by both of you dragging in shaky breaths, the wet sound of your fingers slipping out of her, the faint rustle of sheets.

billie turns her face into your neck immediately. her lips brush your pulse point—soft, trembling kisses.

“that was…” she trails off, laughs breathlessly. “fuck.”

you chuckle too, press a lingering kiss to her temple. sweat-salt skin under your lips.

“yeah.”

she nuzzles closer—whole body lax, heavy with satisfaction. her heartbeat still hammers against your ribs.

“you’re not… mad?” she mumbles after a minute.

you pull back just enough to meet her eyes.

“mad?” you repeat. “baby. i came so hard i forgot my own name because i walked in on you fucking yourself to girls scissoring. why the hell would i be mad?”

her cheeks flush again—deeper this time—but she smiles, small and shy and pleased.

“just checking.”

you kiss her slow—lazy, lingering. she sighs into your mouth like she’s melting.

when you separate you rest your forehead against hers.

“next time,” you say quietly, “leave the door open.”

she laughs—soft, sleepy.

“noted.”