brainrot central

You nod, already sliding your hand under the hem of her oversized sleep shirt. Your palm finds the warm skin of her thigh and squeezes. “Yeah. Been thinking about you all day.”

Jay bites her lip, the shy little habit she has when she’s feeling exposed. She shifts on the bed and you can tell something’s on her mind. You tilt your head, thumb stroking her cheek.

“Is there something wrong, baby?”

She hesitates, cheeks turning pink. Her voice comes out small and insecure. “Lately I’ve just… I've been feeling really weird about my boobs. They feel too big sometimes, like they’re in the way or… I don’t know. And I haven’t shaved in a while down there. It’s all grown out and messy. I feel gross.”

Your heart squeezes at how vulnerable she sounds. You lean in and kiss her softly, then pull back just enough to look into her eyes with a filthy little smile.

“Jay… oh my god, you’re perfect. Your tits are fucking gorgeous, so soft and heavy. I love how they spill out of my hands when I grab them. And as for not shaving?” You let your voice drop lower, rougher, because the thought alone makes you clench. “I prefer you unshaved. I love it when your pussy’s all natural like that. Makes you look so fucking filthy and real. Turns me on like crazy.”

Her breath catches, eyes widening a little. “You… you do?”

“Mhm.” You slide your hand higher, fingers brushing the soft curls between her legs. She’s already a little wet, you coat yourself in her slick before bringing your fingers to your mouth. “Lemme have a real taste? Please?”

“O-okay… You don’t have to go all the way if you don’t want t–”

“Oh, shut up.”

You push her gently onto her back and crawl between her thighs, spreading them wide. Jay’s breathing is already faster, her hands gripping the sheets like she’s nervous but excited. You hook your fingers in her panties and slide them down slowly, revealing that pretty puffy cunt covered in dark, soft hair. It’s messy and so fucking hot you can barely think straight.

“Look at you,” you murmur, voice thick with want. You lean in and press a slow, open-mouthed kiss right on her mound, inhaling loudly her warm scent. 

“Don’t do that! Why did you smell me?” She looked terrified for being this wet. 

“Jaybabe, I fucking love your smell. I think you know that,” you mention, looking up at her and arching your eyebrows. She remembers all the times she comes back from the gym and you insist on sniffing her armpits and pussy, or how many times she’s caught you touching yourself with her used panties in your nose. 

She lets out a shaky whimper when you part her lips with your thumbs, exposing the slick pink inside. You don’t rush. You eat her out nice and slow, savoring every drop of her. Your tongue drags lazily through her folds, licking up her wetness mixed with that natural hair. You suck gently on her clit, then dip lower to push your tongue inside her, tasting her deep while her soft bush tickles your nose.

Jay’s hips twitch, her fingers threading into your hair. “Oh god… it feels so good… you really like it like this?”

You pull back just enough to answer, lips shiny with her juices. “Love it. Love how wet and sloppy you get. Fuck and your tits… babe, please...” You don’t finish the phrase because you can’t help the urge to go back to her cunt, lapping between her folds to hear her whimpers. 

“W-what? What were ya ahh gonna say?” Jay manages to say, head dropping to the pillow when you suck on her clit just how she likes it. 

“Spill your tits for me, yeah? The view is already pretty from down here but I missed them too,” you pout a little, resting your cheek on her thigh.

“You’re such a–” She gets interrupted by you taking a bite out of her thigh. “Ow! Alright, alright. There ya go, you bastard.”

You smile dumbly at the view, they don’t even fit in your hand. Light pink nipples already hard, big areolas and heavy, perfect to fidget while you play with her pussy. You pinch her nipples just the way she likes, she’s moaning louder now, thighs trembling around your head as you keep savoring her, licking and sucking like you could do this for hours.

“Sososo pretty,” you mutter, voice muffled and wet. You use your finger to tease her entrance, drawing circles but not pushing inside.

“B-babe, please! Nghh, s’good… too good ah!” Jay is talking nonsense at this point, toes curling every time you graze her sweet spot, feeling the vibration of your lips when you talk.

“Can’t believe you feel insecure about this gorgeous pussy and your pretty tits…” you say as you finally push inside two fingers so easily. “They’re so pretty and ugh! Wish you’d let me ride those tits.”

The whole idea, mixed with your fingers reaching her cervix and your voice teasing her clit makes her cum too fast. She tries to muffle her loud moans with the back of her hand, you don’t let her, obviously. You want to hear every last sound your girlfriend wants to make. 

“So hot,” you whisper, crawling up, leaving a kiss in her mound before attacking her boobs with marks. “Gonna suck them dry.”

When she finally recovers her breath and a little of her dignity, Jay mutters, not even looking at you: “You… you can ride my tits if you want.”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up to her, eyes glistening. “For real?”

“Uh, we can try. If you want… I’m down if you are.”

You practically jump her, straddling her lap before taking her face between your hands and kissing all over it. “Have I told ya how much I love you. It’s so dumb how gone I am for you.”

You try to find his gaze, but Jason covers his face. That's when you see the wet spot at the crotch of his tac pants. He's also hard if the bulge behind the stain suggests anything.

"Couldn't stop it," he says miserably. "Tried everything. Ignored it all day. Please go. Fuck, 'm so sorry, sucha fuckin' creep—"

"Jason," you say, hushed and kind. "It's okay. Hey, it's fine. Pollen?"

He nods, and he looks quite pathetic, standing there with his arms uselessly at his sides, huge cock heavy in his jeans, the zipper stretching from the weight of it. It's always been a passing thought, how much bigger Jason is than you. You have to look up to meet his gaze, and he can move you around easily. Not that he ever touches you; if he does, it's only in an emergency.

It's a little frustrating actually, the way Jason has to complicate everything. This could be so simple if he let it. Let you.

Jason would run for the hills if you pulled down your underwear and rubbed your wet folds against his crotch, like a cat in heat. But his skittish behavior hasn't stopped you from thinking about getting bent over the arm of his couch, one thick forearm wrapped around your belly as Jason pushes into you, hot mouth on your neck. You'd love nothing more.

But this isn't about you or what you want. This is about Jason and how he's, yes, technically sick. His eyes are bright with fever, a flush traveling down his neck and probably spreading across his chest. You know he was working last night—has he been pollened for a day? Pushing through it, ignoring every sign that something was wrong?

"Can I touch you?" you ask, keeping your voice quiet and light, like you're approaching a wild animal.

Jason shakes his head. "No. 'F you do, I'll–I'm gonna—"

Cum. The realization is like a bolt of lightning to your brain. That's what happened not five minutes ago: you felt Jason's forehead for fever, and he's so desperate, body taut like a too-tight violin string, that the slightest touch tipped his body over the edge. And it wasn't enough. Jason came and stayed hard. He's probably been leaking all day, his cock and balls painfully swollen, demanding he tend to his base urges.

You've never seen Jason physically intimate with anyone; you can’t even imagine him jacking off, though you know he must do it. Under the covers, maybe. No—in the shower. Where he could wash it all away as quickly as possible. Your brain goes fuzzy thinking about Jason's huge palm wrapped around his dick, desperately stroking himself until he comes, catching himself with a hand against the shower tiles. Does he have to do it twice for relief? Three times? Does the pleasure overtake him, make him stupid and noisy?

You could do that. Jason's a hair-trigger away from creaming his jeans again. You imagine doing it over and over until his hair is a mess, cheeks blotchy and red, and he's whining, unable to form words.

"I can help," you say gently, like you're being a charitable friend.

Not the truth, which is that this is making you easy and wet, and if Jason wanted to push into you, it'd be like pressing a thumb to the skin of an overripe peach. He'd find little resistance, and you'd gush around him, tight and pulsing. Jason would feel your heartbeat in your cunt as you grew wetter and softer around him, messily sucking him in. And when he came, it'd spill out of you, preparing you for when he'd inevitably have to go again.

"No," Jason says again—the only word he knows. "I can't—'s wrong, don't wanna make you uncomfortable." He sounds wrecked, pleasure and guilt overwhelming him. He wants you, you know that, and he's angry at himself for wanting you like this. No shield to his desires, no self-control. But Jason has only ever been self-controlled. And you've been wishing for months for a crack in that control.

"Jason," you say, lilting and melodious, like a siren song. "Oh, honey, it's okay. Really. I want to. You're sick. You can't fix it alone. Let me help."

"I dunno if I can control myself." He looks at you finally, fear-stricken. "I don't wanna be out of control. You gotta have the upper hand."

You frown. "Jay, sweetie, I trust you. Honestly, I think it'll be okay—"

He shakes his head violently. "No. No, don’t. 'S wrong, all of this is wrong. Just go. I'll wait it out." He grits his teeth, like he can defeat his body out of sheer willpower.

But even more than your desire is your inability to see Jason hurt. Especially if you can fix it. Most of the time, you can't do anything. You aren't strong or skilled enough to go out at night with him, and you aren’t much of a nurse. All you do is bring him food, call him and tell him you were thinking about him, rub your clit and dream about his weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock emptying into you.

This time, you can do something.

You lick your lips, choosing your next sentence carefully. "Maybe there's something that'll make you feel safer. What if I stay on top? Or you keep your hands behind you? Or—"

"Cuff me." The direction is a rasp. "There's some in my bag."

You hesitate. "Jason, you can touch me. I really don't m—"

"Please." His chest heaves. "'S the only way I'll feel okay 'bout this. 'F I know I can't touch you, that this won't happen the way I planned, and you won't get hurt, I can do it."

You press your lips together, debating. You can't work through Jason's guilt and repression in an evening. And the pollen is burning through him; you suspect that it won't release until he cums inside of you.

"Okay," you say. "Do you want to go to your room?"

"No." He sits on the floor against the couch. "Here's fine. 'S what I..."

What I deserve, he doesn't say. You don't comment, instead going to his duffel bag to fetch the cuffs. They're at the bottom and you take them out.

"Key's on the side."

You take the little key out and set it on the coffee table. Then you pause, the open cuffs in your hand. Jason licks his lips and slides down, so he's lying on the floor. His hands go up to the leg of the couch. You understand immediately and fit the cuffs around his wrists, locking them so he's secured around the couch leg.

Your fingers graze the inside of his wrist and he whimpers.

"Too tight?" you ask.

"No, fine," he says breathlessly. He shifts, biceps on full display at this angle. "Don't unlock me till the pollen's gone. Even if I beg, d-don't."

Whatever thread of control Jason still has will disappear once you seriously make the effort to cycle the pollen out of his system. You know how it works; Jason's warned you against it a million times. Yet it's him that's here now, powerless and needy.

You pet his cheek. He grunts.

"Please," he whispers, and you nod.

"I know, Jay. I know, honey."

You pull off your shirt. He squirms, hips bucking.

"Sorry," he says, ashamed.

He looks away as you fully undress, tossing your clothes aside. You're naked and unselfconscious as you crawl onto him. You work on his jeans zipper and pop the button. Jason lifts his hips so you can pull his jeans down. His gray briefs are even darker than his jeans—Jason's presumably either came or leaked pre-cum for hours.

You thumb the bulge, which is a little cruel, but the sound Jason makes is worth it. He keens like a dog, trying to arch and move away from your hand simultaneously, like it's too much and not enough. The cuffs rattle against the couch leg.

"Oh God, fuck," he says, and cums again. You feel the warmth bloom under your fingers, the sticky patch getting stickier. His erection doesn't flag a bit; it's like nothing happened.

If you were meaner, you might work him to insanity this way. The curiosity of how many times Jason can cum without getting soft burns in you, but you know that he's being extremely vulnerable, and you don't want to take advantage.

Still, the urge lingers...

"Sorry, baby," you say, and kiss the corner of his mouth. A little more cum gushes from his cock from that. You feel yourself getting wetter. "I'll get to it now. One second."

Your tits rest against his chest as you wiggle his briefs off. And there's his cock, the product of nearly twelve straight hours of arousal. It's dark red, almost purple, the veins plump. His hair is matted with cum, balls drooping heavily at the base.

He'd be so good for breeding, comes the unbidden thought. It's like everything else Jason does is a distraction; why does he run around Gotham, using his body to fight, to take a beating, to protect, when it should be against yours, pumping you with his cum?

"You're so full, huh?" you say, letting his cock drag against the front of your pussy. The head catches on your clit and you both whine. "Fat, leaky dick with a full load. Do you get like this thinking about me?"

Maybe you're meaner than you thought. You're gluttonous, eyes lasered in on Jason's reaction. His face screws up, embarrassed but helpless to how his cock tightens in warning at the question. Why are you asking? Don't you understand that he's tried so hard not to let you see him like this? Jason's a soldier first, a weapon, a tank. His body is good for bruises, not bites.

"Jason," you say in the voice that can make him do anything. "Tell me, honey."

"Y-yeah, yes," he says, the corners of his eyes wet. "But I control it. 'S not a lot, I swear. I can control it."

"Oh, yeah, I know you can," you say, soothing like a balm. "You're so good. I like you so much, Jay. I've been waiting for ages for you to do something about it. You treat me so well. Why didn't you tell me sooner? Poor baby, so hard you're crying."

He shakes his head weakly. "N-not, not cr—"

You swipe a thumb under his eye, collecting a stray tear. You suck it clean, salt hitting your tongue. "No? I can taste it. That's okay, pretty. Pretty boy, just wanna grab at you every time you stop by. You're so strong, so capable. It's okay now, Jay. I'll help."

You look behind you so you can take his cock in hand, positioning it so he slides home. Jason wails as he lands inside of you, and he thrusts as soon as he's deep enough. He doesn't stop, and you watch his thighs flex, sinewy muscle and fat cushioning you as he fucks you.

"That's it, baby, there you go," you say, cunt tightening around him.

You can't resist it either. Jason's cock fills you so well, almost too much, but in a good way. You feel him in your belly, and you crook your knee up so you get him even deeper. Now his thrusts alight the muscles in your hips, your legs, your stomach with pleasure.

You ruck his shirt up so you can grope his stomach, digging your nails into the fat and pressing until you feel muscle.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," Jason says, back arching from the floor. "Fuck, oh my God, I can't stop, I can't—"

"Don't stop," you order, holding him by his shoulders. You lean in, so your nipple is in front of his mouth. "Will sucking my tits help? Make you cum faster?"

Jason has his mouth on you as a reply, latching onto your breast and sucking. He bites down gently and you moan, grabbing your tit and squeezing so he can get more of it in his mouth. His tongue laves the flesh, hips never stuttering in their rhythm.

Hot cum fills your pussy, almost immediately dripping down your thighs, it's so much. But Jason doesn't stop. He doesn't soften either.

"Oh my God," you say in awe, looking at where your bodies are joined, where Jason's cock slides in and out of you rapidly. "Fuck, baby, you're gonna knock me up. You can't help it. I saw your dick months ago. Just for a moment, saw it swinging, with your huge balls. Couldn't stop thinking about it after that. Touched myself thinking about you mounting me like a dog, big and stupid, fucking me till it stuck. And now it's gonna stick, whether you want it to or not."

Jason cries out, pulling against the cuffs so hard the couch moves and squeaks against the floor. A mix of apprehension and excitement strikes you—can Jason break the cuffs? Probably not... but what if he did? What if he proved just how much at his mercy you really are? What if no amount of reassurances or restraints could stop him in this state? If Jason wants to grab you, pick you up and fuck you with your face to the floor, hand on the back of your neck, maybe there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Your eyes flutter at the thought. You hardly need to put in effort to ride him—Jason's fucking you just fine even without his hands. You kiss his neck, biting down hard, and Jason moans, loud and long.

"Oh fuck, 'm sorry," he says, slurring his words. "I'll finish soon, I swear. Sorry, sorry—"

You rub your clit while he babbles apologies. You're close, and you want to cum before Jason finally gets soft. You ignore his sloppy thrusts and the way the cuffs clink.

"I'm gonna cum," you say, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest. "Stop apologizing so I can fucking cum, Jay."

"'Kay," he says, nodding fervently. "Yeah, please cum, want you t'feel good—"

Your pleasure peaks, clawing up your back. Your nipples are so hard they ache, and your whole body pulses as you orgasm, your pussy gripping Jason like a lifeline.

He instantly follows you, and this time, he cums for much longer, filling you almost uncomfortably so. It leaks out of you, spilling onto Jason's thighs and the floor beneath. He's frozen while he cums, eyes clenched tight as his body finds the relief it's needed for hours.

"Oh," he says, blinking through more tears. The sudden change between animalistic hunger and cool, controlled relief must be whiplash.

Jason swallows hard and looks at you. You curl up against him, letting his softened cock fall out of you. Absently, you rub his still-clothed chest with your knuckles.

"See?" you say, not looking at him. "Was that so hard?"