Deathstar District

You could count the number of Zen’in clan members that had faced Mahoraga off your own hand, because after a certain number, they had given up. 

The “untameable”, the dog that bites the hand that holds its leash. A great power nobody could wield.The greatest waste of talent, just floating around unclaimed within the 10 Shadows Technique. 

Until you, of course.

Notably, there had been a few great tries. Some sorcerers had managed to get a gritty hold upon the beast before being inevitably flung off, and the Fushigurou boy had been smart enough to use its vicious and undefeatable presence as something other than a controllable weapon. And of course, before the fall of Sukuna, Mahoraga had been given a chance to feel the thrill of being handled and owned by a winnowed master. The greatest appeal of Mahoraga -demonstrated so destructively by Sukuna- was his adaptive technique. Anyone would die to get their hands on it, so much that it claimed the lives of several clan members who were greedy enough to try and have a taste.

A shame, you muse to yourself. The narrow-minded reach of the Zen’in’s astounded you. They really thought so little of the magnificent creature Mahoraga was. Bloodshed? Victory in combat? All great only if you were a mule of war and shallow ego. To your utter delight, you’ve found the shikigami has a knack for just about anything if you put him and his wheel to it. 

You were the curious type, and it's a wonder you haven’t killed the cat with how much you’ve been toeing the line. Your body is burning, muscles taught and bruised all over from your previous tussle, but you had wrenched the genie’s lamp out of the devil's lair, and now was the time to enjoy your three wishes. 

Perched so politely between your legs, on his knees, was none other than the hulking presence of Mahoraga himself.

The shikigami is two and a half times your size, a bulking mass of muscle and power, and he’s all yours to play with, as you had so successfully managed to tame him. As if he’s just a scolded dog, you nudge him at the cheek with your knee, enjoying the way he shivers a little. 

When Mahoraga is tamed, he practically becomes one with its master, a deep and irreversible bond. He is you, and you are him. Of course, this explained why Sukuna was so successful in wielding him in combat, other than his own set of skills in jujutsu sorcery. And also why your sweet shikigami was acting so shy. 

He knew, through your now unbreakable bond, exactly what you wanted to do with him. 

Gently, you reach a hand out to cradle him by the jaw, tracing your pointer finger down the sharp outline and stopping close to his chin. Obediently, he follows your touch, leaning into it subtly and chasing after your fingertip.

You’re sure the many men who have tried to claim him would call him pathetic if they knew the state their most prized weapon was currently in, but to you? This was beyond any kind of physical prowess on the battlefield. Here, with Mahoraga kneeled and keening at your touch, you couldn’t possibly ask for a better reward. 

The fight had been hell, but with the way Mahoraga watches your hand fall away from his face reluctantly, you feel the pain and strife was absolutely worth it.

Even without eyes, you can tell he’s watching you, trained on your movement, and he makes a sound when your hand finds his face again, this time playing with the sprouting wings at his sockets, distracting him gracefully as your foot moves to press between his legs.

He jolts at first, and all 10+ feet of shikigami twitch. His hands are around your waist, immediately clutching to support himself, but when you tut at him, he releases his hold on you reluctantly with a little whine. You’d been teasing him for a while now, little gentle touches here and there, and you’d even given him a little kiss, teeth against teeth, pulling away before he could really get a taste and watching with utter delight as you watch the Shikigami slowly unfold from arousal right in front of you. 

The Zen’in’s couldn’t have possibly thought of using Mahoraga for anything other than useless dick-measuring contests against other sorcerers. You would be the first to actually experiment, and so far, your little creative idea has sprouted nothing but good results. As if eager to prove himself of his obedience, the Shikigami had tentatively rolled his hips forward, tensing up when you push the blunt of your foot down on the poor thing’s crotch, the contact making him tight like a ball of fresh yarn. As skilled and threatening of a Shikigami as he was, it still took time for the adaptation to kick in. It didn’t come from no-where, or else the Divine General would be a walking cheat book. Sukuna would’ve blown up the world in the few hours he had access to him with power like that. But you weren’t disappointed, no, quite the opposite. This would only mean you’d get to take all the time in the world training your sweet little pup.

You had already begun to unravel him, and with another purposely stroke of your foot, his hesitant rolls of his hips become more purposeful, more eager, and soon enough he’s breathing shakily, a damp spot wetting the fabric of your sock as he shamelessly humps you like an animal in heat. Those massive clawed hands are bundling up your bedsheets at the sides of your thighs, staying true to your action of commanding him not to touch you unprompted. You didn’t even need to say it, but Mahoraga already knew what you wanted. A little more, and you were sure he’d be perfectly in tune to give you just what you need. 

You’ve been marvelling since you’ve had him under your control, from the moment you summoned him. It was almost a painful distraction, to not pop an embarrassing boner mid-battle from the sheer beauty of him finally real and in front of you. The tail-like appendage that sprouted from the back of his head curls around your ankle almost affectionately, and you wonder if he’s even conscious of how attached he’s starting to become to you, or if it’s that bond between you and him that has him acting like this without him entirely knowing. 

How cute.

Using your hand to motion him to back away, you stand up from your bed, watching with amusement as Mahoraga sulks while he pulls away from you, clenching his legs together almost like he’s embarrassed. A stark contrast to how he’d been so eagerly chasing his arousal against your leg just seconds ago. You think maybe he’s too shy to continue, accidentally making a blushing virgin out of a dangerous Shikigami, but then you watch as he kneels back on the floor to reposition himself, one hand disappearing between his legs, and he looks up at you with an expression you swear is something pathetic as he starts to palm himself. The sound of the Shikigami’s shaky pants that are soon accompanied with a wet squelching of his fingers sinking into himself all go straight to your dick. 

He’s preparing himself. For you.

“Now where’d you learn to do that?” You muse, taking the cue to start undressing, slipping off layers of robes until you’re bare, and Mahoraga whines at the sight of you. 

Hypocritical really, when the pornographic view is clearly the Shikigami himself, who’s thighs are starting to shake from the pace his hand is going at between his thighs. He stops then, suddenly, sensing your desire, and slowly, he crawls towards you, on all fours, slick dripping down his thigh and leaving a wet trail in his wake. 

Taking his hands into yours, you guide the massive creature to where your makeshift bed is, pushing him down to the spread of blankets and pillows you’ve made. You’re like a bird herding its mate to his nest, eager to press Mahoraga into it and breed him full with your seed. He sprawls awkwardly for a moment, arms out like a bit like a starfish and wings fluttering at the side of his head in a flustered movement, but then he parts his legs, tail-like appendage flicking towards you, almost like he’s beckoning you forward.

And it’s more than enough of the confirmation you need. 

You’ve been restraining your patience for so long, trying to be a good role model for a Shikigami still learning how to take cock, but no more of that. As soon as you’re on top of him, you’re pressing another kiss to his mouth.

You kiss him like waves crashing against sea-rocks, abrasive and hungry and parting away only to come back for more, again and again. His fangs clash against yours in a messy fit, but as soon as he finds a rhythm against you, he’s learning, adapting, changing himself to suit you. Speaking of change, you’ve noticed that Mahoraga has quite a few assets for you to take advantage of. The Shikigami is huge, much like the rest of himself, thick cock tapping against his abdomen in full arousal the more you kiss and explore him with your hands. The girth would please you if it weren’t for the fact that you weren’t the type to be putting it to any use. Which Mahoraga didn’t seem to mind at all, as he eagerly guided your hands past his bobbing cock, and amidst your curiosity, you heard the resounding click of the wheel above his head turning in one motion. Gently, he presses your fingers against a warm and pulsing slit. 

Adaptation was indeed his finest skill, and the Shikigami had chosen to hone it to craft an aching cunt for you to fill and breed. 

He jolts when your fingers sink in, just two for now, dipping in to test the waters, and he makes a hoarse cry as you slowly stroke the entrance, pressing deep to play at sinking in, only to pull back. It doesn’t take long before his hot breath is fanning over your throat, clinging to you like he’ll die if he lets go and desperately rocking his hips down three of your fingers, soon to be four. 

Your wrist movement is practiced, a repetitive stroke of how you’d imagined it in your mind ever since you had been bestowed the 10 shadows technique. Your ancestors would smite you down for defiling their most prized Shikigami, but you couldn’t give a lesser damn, not with the great Mahoraga whining for your cock, at your disposal on your bed.

You move him closer to you just slightly, letting his hips sit against your thighs so you can comfortably line up the tip of your cock to kiss his wet pussy lips, and he says a garbled mix of your name and “please” before you’re snapping your hips forward to thrust in. 

Four fingers were nothing compared to your cock, but Mahoraga wasn’t exactly just any virgin. For a moment, his walls flutter and clench desperately, taking the intrusion shakily, and the shikigami’s back draws up into an arch, muscles twitching with tension, but then he’s slick and easy to slide into after a couple thrusts, and the wheel clicks again as you bottom out, fully sheathed in the tight embrace of Mahoraga’s cunt. He tightens around you. Arms and legs wrapping around you and even pressing his head to nuzzle against the top of your head before he tries to move, but you beat him to it. Your first full thrust is experimental, but when the Shikigami doesn’t falter from the rut of your hips, you pick up the pace, going from an eager fuck to a pounding rhythm. 

His whiny pants turn to full blown moans, claws sinking into the meat of your back, threatening to tear. A particularly mean thrust that gets the tip of his cock rubbing between your abdomen and his clit pressed up against you has him keening, a pleased sob tearing its way out of his throat as his cunt tightens threateningly around you, close to an orgasm.

“Not yet.” You snarl, hands digging into the flesh of his hips, and you’re maneuvering him down to greet each thrust. 

For such a big Shikigami, he seems so small against you like this, and you are handling him surprisingly well. He’s achingly vulnerable, grinding down to meet each time you fuck into him, and his mewls are becoming shaky, breathily higher in pitch, and as hard as he seems to be holding on for you, the poor thing is drastically close to orgasm. 

Click. 

Changing position, you push him down into the soft layering of blankets and pillows across the floor, and he follows you easily, a fluid motion. He calls your name between whines, wet folds clenching rapidly around you, and you switch the pace, brutal and animalistic like it’s your mission to have him bred, and it doesn't take long before he’s cumming instantly, wet slick gushing from his cunt and thick white ropes spurt from the tip of his cock simultaneously, coming untouched with a wail. The wings at his head are flared out and taught with pleasure, trembling through his orgasm and softly panting. 

The wheel has turned several times but you’d not been counting at this point, burying your face into the crook of his neck just as your own cock bursts deep inside him, heavy thick seed spilling into his womb. Mahoraga shudders, clamping around both you and your cock, not wasting a drop of what you have to offer. Your back is scratched raw, dried blood crusting at the corners of some of the deeper wounds, and he almost seems apologetic with the way he traces the edges of them with a clawed finger. 

It’s a gorgeous sight, looking down at the strongest thing your entire clan has slaved away to dominate, only for you to succeed and claim him like this. The Shikigami’s chest rises and falls heavily, taking in as much air as he can get, thighs fallen to the side and covered in slick and sweat. From his shoulders-up he’s a rosy flushed colour, wings pink at the tips and joints, and shyly folded, as if trying to cover his face.

Beautiful.

When you try to pull out however, instead of complying, his legs tighten suddenly around you, hands coming to paw at you almost pleadingly. His wings have unfolded slightly, and though eyeless, it’s like he’s peering at you. 

“Again?” He pleads.

As a proxy, you’re expected to keep your cool, totally professional self all together, even in the most unique of situations. You can’t be a north star if you blink in and out of sight, can you? You’ve survived hollow after hollow, ethereals ten times the size of the bangboo you send in to play as a living talking compass to your customers. And yet, none of the many years of such situations could prepare you for this.

Dating an Intelligent Construct was already a gamble few were willing to take. When cold metal and grinding gears replace warm flesh and blood, it’s easy to feel repelled. It’s unnatural, unsettling to the normal boring human. But you’re not just anyone, no. You’ve decided to keep the Cunning Hares beloved Starlight Knight as your personal lover.

 That is, your personal lover who’s currently humping your leg like a rabbit in heat.

“C’mon Manager, I’ve waited all day.” The sweet and needy hum of your cyborg is like sweetener in bitter coffee, and you spare a glance from your phone to look down at the pitious thing that is your boyfriend. 

The other reason 90% of humanity preferred to have a partner of the same species, was because it was predictable. Easy to manage. After all, you can’t get the surprises Billy comes with, with the average person. The constant need for repairs and top-ups to his metal body was pricey, but your pockets were deep enough to plate him in gold and still have enough to afford anything New Eridu offered. The reward of being such a high-end proxy, the legendary so-called ‘Phaethon.’ 

A certain pressure against your shin drags you back into reality, Billy’s face pressed against your knee, and if he had eyeballs, they’d be glazed in tears. Mockingly, you reach down to tug his head away from you, fingers grasping him by the white tufts of his hair, exposing his throat just slightly. 

Apparently, that was the right move to make, throat cables flexing as he swallows, a soft moan leaving the cyborg. 

“Manager…” He pouts, all breathy, and his hips twitch against your foot. 

“If anyone should be complaining, it’s me.” You raise an eyebrow at his pathetic stance. He’s almost entirely naked, shirt and bold leather jacket stripped. 

His belt is askew and loose, unbuckled purely from the amount of desperate grinding he’s done on your sneakers to get some kind of friction to the obvious heat between his legs. There’s a growing wet patch between his legs that stain his jeans like a filthy truth, knees parted to splay himself all over you like a true dog desperate for his master’s bone. It’s almost cute that despite the debauched image he’s presenting himself in for you, he still has the audacity to feign innocence. 

“I didn’t know,” he whines, wriggling in your grasp, but there’s no real strength in it, as if he isn’t fighting the hold you have on his hair at all. “I swear, I was thinking for the best! And Lighter said to wait for you, so I waited.” 

You drag your eyes over his figure, unimpressed. Billy’s in absolutely no state to be denying you, after everything. Especially in this state, nearly entirely undressed and curled up around your leg. 

“The best.” You drawl slowly. 

“And the best seemed to have been installing a drive that would increase your heat instead of suppress it?” 

See, Billy wasn’t just any mech. At least, not at the moment. The idiot had gone and got himself a virus a while ago that made him so hungrily, insatiably horny every now and then. It was almost like some sexy form of a menstrual cycle, kicking in every month and not leaving until he gets his desired serving of a dicking down. It was a little funny at first, and you were never one to deny breeding your favourite cyborg, alongside Lighter. You three had even found something of a fix to this temporary issue, until they could get the bug out entirely. It was simple. Go to Enzo, pick up a little extension and make sure it’s installed properly in the mech in question. 

Somehow, Billy had not only managed to fuck that up, but make it do the exact opposite of it’s original effects. 

Now, you’re no saint. You adore listening to Billy beg to fuck every now and then and doing exactly that. Sometimes, if you’re feeling it, you’ll even watch him bump purses with Lighter when you’re feeling extra freaky and lazy. But this month, you’d been jam-packed with commission after commission, and with Billy being your only form of security, you had specifically told him to make sure he keeps his head on straight for at least a week extra, until he gets his current commission finished. 

Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen. 

You had come home rather late in the evening, drenched in sweat and carrying your things back home after a long, long day, only to find a whimpering Billy in your bed, palming between his legs and nuzzling against your pillows. 

And now here you were. 

Billy inches closer, now fully covering your foot with his pelvis, hips bucking down in an attempt to chase a hint of release, and you can feel the dampness of his jeans, the twitch of his arousal beneath the starchy cloth. It almost makes you break and give him everything he needs. Almost.

“Poor you.” You croon, your hand finally releasing the grip on his head, threading through the white waves of hair and settling at the nape of his neck. “If it weren't for the fact that it cost me a leg’s worth of dennies for that stupid hard drive, I’d feel bad for you.”

..You did, but you weren’t going to admit that just yet.

Billy makes a pitiful sound that’s halfway between a moan and a whine, leaning into your touch, and you do your best to ignore the heat that stirs in your groin at the simpering display of desire and affection. 

Gently, you push Billy off of you and away at an arms reach distance. He whines and tries his best to cling, but eventually stills, fidgety and clearly still very horny. 

“Until you tell me exactly how you managed to screw up this bad, I’m not fucking you.” You’re not usually mean. Heck, you love to spoil your sweethearts. But you had been working yourself to the bone, and this was really going to set back your work schedule. You deserved to be petty about this. 

Billy opens his mouth, but before he can speak, you raise a finger to silence him, wagging the digit in the air. 

“Ah, one moment.” Readjusting yourself momentarily, you lean back into your chair and look towards the door of your bedroom. 

“Lighter, come in now.” Your voice changes, from deadpan and gravelly to sweet. 

The door creaks open, and like the good boy he is, the champion of the outer ring steps in, eyes flickering between Billy’s shivering figure on the floor to you, calmly sitting cross-legged at your desk. 

You swivel a little closer to Lighter as he enters, a simple and innocent smile on your face that betrays the sin stirring in your mind. 

“Billy here’s been having a bit of trouble following simple directions, so I think it’s up to you and I to give him a demonstration, hm?” 

Lighter blinks, and you can see the gears shifting in his head. It’s nothing obvious, no glimmer in his eyes or movement on his face, but his ears get just a bit pinker. 

“Sure, proxy.” He hums, and you beam up at him.

“Good, very good. Strip and take a seat.” You pat your thigh casually, as if you’ve announced an order for coffee instead. 

And like clockwork, Lighter casually slips everything off, studded jacket and black jeans slipping off to accompany where Billy’s clothes had been tossed aside. When his fingers come to pull at the scarlet scarf around his neck, you click your tongue.

“Keep that, actually. The sunglasses too.” 

God knows why he wears them indoors, but he manages to pull them off with a charm you’ve grown to enjoy.

Lighter’s eyebrow arches curiously, but he doesn’t question you, leaving the shades and scarlet garment around his neck loosely and shifts to seat himself on your lap. He’s casual with it, but polite. Legs swinging over to straddle you because he knows that’s just how you like it, and his half-hard cock bobs slightly with the movement of it. He does his best to ignore his own growing arousal, and you give a pleased hum when he settles against you. 

You waste no time, one hand holding his waist to steady him while the other comes to palm at his cock, and Lighter jerks a little in surprise despite seeing it coming, a sharp intake of breath at the first stroke against his shaft. Billy, who’s practically vibrating on the floor from how much arousal is radiating from him, hasn’t taken your eyes off of you once. He hasn’t even paused to glance at Lighter, who gives an appreciative moan into your neck when you thumb over the slit of his cock. It beads a pearly drop of pre-cum in response, and with a few more heavy pets, it’s standing at full attention, just as eager as its owner. 

“Proxy,” Lighter breathes, shaky slightly. 

“Manager-” Billy cries, high pitched and crackly from the floor, and you hush him instantly with a click of your tongue. 

“I didn’t give you permission to speak.” The words are spoken flippantly, as if they don’t make Billy wilt a little, and he tucks his legs together as if trying to bundle himself and his arousal into himself. 

Despite himself, he only makes a small, pitiful noise that sounds almost like a weak whistle of a kettle, and Billy obediently silences himself. 

“Good boy.”

Both of them react to the praise, Billy shuddering on the floor whilst Lighter arches into your touch, a breathy whine escaping him as your hands pick up the pace on his cock. 

Lighter is nice and thick, not too long, but the amount of pre he always spurts makes up for it. Some would call it messy, but you love how responsive his body is to you, weakly spilling milky white over your knuckles as you stroke, and he’s begun to thrust up against the fist-shape your hands have made in tandem. The rhythm is filthy, the sound of wet skin slicking against each other and his low moans filling the room while he makes a personal fleshlight out of your hand. 

The champion in your lap twitches, spine arching up all pretty at a sudden squeeze of your fist against his weeping member, cries pitching higher, and he writhes a little in your lap. You can tell he’s close, but he’s holding himself back, or at least trying to, waiting until you give him the word to come. 

“Billy.” You finally say, and the cyborg jolts as if he’s been electrocuted. While he’s got no blood to get him blushing, his face is lit up with a soft glow, his signature way of blushing, and you notice he’s been not-so-secretly grinding against his own hand that’s been shoved down his pants. 

Billy’s eyes stray between your hand roughly pumping Lighter’s flushed cock to your relaxed eyes, your posture still slack and leaning back in your leather swivel chair like you don’t have two feared killers begging for a slice of you. You’re fully clothed, yet these two are nearly entirely nude and soaking their panties. It should be humiliating, but Billy just fights back pants and moans of his own at the sight of you getting Lighter off. 

“You want to tell me what happened with Enzo’s stuff?” You speak low and soft, like you’re speaking to a little puppy that’s accidentally peed on the carpet. 

Your puppy whimpers in response, buckling over slightly, and he crawls towards you, metal knees hitting the floor and scooting towards you. On your lap, Lighter grips your bicep tight, riding up the short sleeve of your tee,nails digging crescents into your bare arm. He’s shaking, just slightly, like the hum of an airplane in the distance, but you know he’s desperate for release, barely holding on with the way you’re sinking your thumb repeatedly against his slit. Your hands are almost entirely soaked, and the scent of sex is heavy in the room as Lighter whines something like a plea into your ear, eyelashes dotted with moisture and a drip of saliva sliding over his chin.. 

It’s the picture of sex. 

“I put it through my computer, because I wanted to know what was in it.” Billy blurts, and he looks like he wants to touch you, Lighter, to touch both of you. He instead claws at the wooden floor, metal fingers leaving light scrapes across the wood, something you’ll look at fondly with the memory of all this in the future. 

As for your own hands, they speed up in pace against Lighter’s cock, and he can’t help himself, lurching forward to bite into your shoulder to stifle the mewl building up in his throat. 

“And I- I forgot to close it, and I guess while I was doing my own stuff, it could’ve gotten transferred over. I dunno, I was drunk.” He says miserably, and you can’t help but laugh at that. 

“Lighter, you can come.” You say, and Lighter lets out a muffled wail against your collar as he does, white ropes of thick cum spurting from his tip and over your fist. Some of it manages to splatter against the arm rest, and most of it lands on your shirt. When he’s finally spent and gently slumping against you, you offer Lighter a gentle kiss to the temple before signaling him to get off. 

“Leave your scarf.” You murmur, and he gently shucks it off, getting as little of his spend as he can on it. 

“I’ll draw you a bath in a moment.” You mumble between kisses, lapping the excess saliva off the corners of his mouth and giving him another soft kiss to his nose before letting him go, and he makes a soft grunt of acknowledgement, eyes softening at your affection. 

When his footsteps finally fade, you turn to look at Billy, poor sweet Billy who’s on his knees still and looking up at you with wide hazy eyes. 

There’s heat radiating from the construct, a subtle sensation you can feel from the steadily climbing temperature of your room and even through the cloth of your pants, from where your legs are just a few inches away from the cyborg. His thighs are trembling, and suddenly his hand and knee position on the floor makes much more sense. 

You reach your hand out, the one covered in Lighter’s white seed, and gently clean it off with a spare napkin. Then, you pick up the scarf and curl your fingers into a beckoning motion. Billy doesn’t hesitate, practically scrambling towards you like a rabid animal, but unlike before, this time he doesn’t immediately get to grinding against your foot. 

You tie the crimson cloth around the construct’s neck like a makeshift collar, tugging for good measure and taking immense pleasure in the way Billy has to lean uncomfortably forward to follow the motion. He nearly topples headfirst into your lap if not for your second hand coming to nudge under his chin and guide him to look up at you. 

“The next time I ask you to do something, you’ll do exactly as you’re told, understand?” Your voice is unthreatening, but firm as an anchor, and Billy nods at lightning speed. 

“Yes, please, I promise Manager. I won’t do anything out of your orders, I didn’t mean to mess up, I-” Your foot gracefully sweeps under him to press right between his legs where it’s practically soaking, and his voice breaks off into a whine full of static. 

“Manager-” 

“Off.” You nudge at his belt with your toe, and Billy wastes no time in practically tearing off the remnants of clothing on him. 

All while he’s wrestling off a sneaker, you stand and bend down to pull him up onto his feet in one grand motion, his shoe rolling off to the side as you do so, and he’s like a big lanky metal cat when you dispose him onto your bed, belly up and slightly disoriented. All that’s left on him is his boxers, which you peel off with little dignity to expose the treat beneath. The cloth’s completely soaked through, and when it’s off, you can’t help but breath a slight chuckle at the slight. 

For a combat model, he’s incredibly advanced. You know for a fact that even for an outer ring desert-dweller, they don’t exactly come packing with what he’s got, but by the ethereals are you thankful. 

His cunt is soft, made of a kind of silicone that’s somewhat squishy when you apply the right amount of pleasure, and it molds to the touch it receives, or more specifically, the shape of your cock. Whatever self-lubrication system he’s got is working overtime, pussy lips glossy from the amount of slick oozing from the slit, and it twitches as you openly admire him. 

“Don’t stare.” Billy wheedles, hands coming to paw cutely at your arms, and when you let him go to undo your belt buckle, you can practically see his pussy pulse with anticipation as the tent of your erection is finally freed from the combines of your pants. It unfurls with a lewd fwop, heavy member sticky with your own arousal, and you palm over it in self indulgence. You hadn’t gotten to touch yourself once throughout the whole ordeal of Lighter cumming in your lap or when Billy had so cutely grinded on your foot. 

You yank at the scarf-collar before Billy can get his hands on your dick, and he practically wails with deprivation, but takes his hands back. 

“Just sit back, pretty.” You coo, hands tucking beneath Billy’s knees and folding him into a more vulnerable position. His hips face you, cunt twitching from the sudden exposure to cold air, and he shudders, another whine trilling out of him. He’s so warm, like a toasted oven, and there’s puffs of hot air venting out from Billy’s faceplate. He writhes a little, hips desperately trying to buck up towards you. 

“You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you?” His legs come to perch up on your shoulders, kneecaps sliding close to your ears, and you rub his thighs in comfort, big hands cupping the metal plates, and Billy practically sobs as you lean down to lick a long strip up between his legs. 

His slick isn’t exactly flavoured, but it doesn’t taste like nothing either. An unspoken sweetness that’s hidden within it, the way vodka tastes when you really get it in your mouth. You eat him out like he’s your last meal, and you’re on deathrow, and Billy wraps his thighs suffocatingly tight around your head. Not that you’d mind if this is how you go. The cyborg sobs and hiccups as your tongue laps over his sensitive folds, taking your time to map out the shape of his cunt before you really dive in.

“Manager!” He cries and arches right off the covers, and you can feel him clench around your tongue, silicone folds fluttering open to take your tongue in before they’re closing around it tight, like it’s desperate to keep you inside. The hands at his thighs come to grip at his waist, then his hips, and pin him down, rough enough to keep him in place as you have your meal. 

There’s a little nub, much softer than the usual silicone his cunt’s made out of, something special that whatever genius invented knew exactly what they were doing when they did it, and when he finds the sensitive little path and laves his tongue over it, Billy mewls, thighs spasming, and then he’s squirting, spilling over your nose and chin like champagne that’s been popped. 

“...Holy shit.” You gasp between his folds, and the vibration of your voice goes straight to his makeshift clit. 

“Manager,” He pants. “I’m- I don’t think-” 

“You’re a whole lot more sensitive than last time, huh?” You’re musing to yourself mostly, but with the way Billy’s face lights up in mock-blush confirms it. 

“How do you think you’re going to take my cock like this?” You feign a disappointed sigh, pushing yourself up to crawl over him. 

Billy’s hands circle your shoulders, grasping at your back, and he lets out a silky whine when the tip of your cock kisses the hood of his cunt. 

You’re not exactly small, no. The first time you had bedded the cyborg, he had shouted–rather embarrassingly– ‘holy monster cock’ before Lighter clocked him over the head. But it had been a while since that, and now when you nudge against the slick entrance, it eagerly flutters against it. You tap the tip against the sticky wet entrance, watching as Billy bites out little curses and complains, and you distract him with a big wet smooch to that screen of a face of his, before slowly sinking in. 

The reaction is immediate, the stretch of your length making him clutch you like a lifeline. It takes a minute before you’ve bottomed out, balls tapping against the wet surface of his taint, and he’s panting, short little ah’s and poorly hidden whimpers escaping him. Despite his attempt to remain as unaffected as possible, his cunt is telling a different story. It practically throbs with pleasure around you, clenching, then gushing out another fresh wave of slick. If he was warm outside, he was practically searing on the inside. It’s velvety and hot, the cyborgs pretty pussy sheathing you perfectly, and while you try to keep yourself at bay, you can’t help but buck into it.

“Manager, wait, I- ah-” 

His legs find themselves locking around your waist, and what becomes shallow rolls of your hips are now eager half-thrusts, pulling out half way and watching the way his pussy stretches around your length, clenched tight each time you rear back and rippling when you sink back in, the wet resounding smack of skin on silicone. 

It’s easy for you to lose control like this, Billy’s lewd cries echoing through the room as you shift from a simple pace to a pounding one, and if not for his metal skin, you’re sure he’d be bruised in the morning after with the way you’re slipping out all the way to the tip before slamming back into him. Belatedly, your hand comes to roll over the makeshift clit of his, and the combined stimulation of your cock bullying your way into his cervix and the constant rubbing, he mewls your name with a crackle of static, and he’s squirting again, spilling over your abdomen. The clench of his cunt from orgasm is tight, the wet and warm channel squeezing you just right, and you know from the building burning heat in your gut that you’re achingly close. 

Your hips snapping forward with fervour, almost animalistic, and you practically burrow yourself into his cunt as your cock spills with seed, stars and static bursting behind your eyes as you curl forward and clutch the cyborg beneath you close as you fill him full with your come. The legs around your waist tighten, another soft mewl of pleasure coming from Billy at the feeling of being filled full with your seed, and he thanks his lack of ovaries for being allowed to take it raw from you every time. 

You can feel the metal of Billy cooling down almost instantly, the ventilation system coming to a slow, and you gently reach one hand to comb through Billy’s hair. 

A beat of silence.

“Maybe you ought to fuck around with Enzo’s shit more often.” You murmur, giving Billy’s oversensitive cunt an experimental roll of your hips. 

He yanks the cloth leash out of your hands, face aglow and lower half of his body still trembling from impact.

A/N: I originally wanted all 3 of them (you, billy and lighter) going at it but I couldn't think of a position where both of them could be bottoming for you that had billy in the center so I thought to just cuck the poor guy instead LMAO. Oops. I promise I'll do more of them/lighter content in the future.