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The sound of a keyboard tapping and furious mouse clicking filled the otherwise silent room. It was dark, save for a yellowed lamp light coming from the corner, and the blue light of a huge computer monitor. “Left, left, left! Get that brat behind the building.”
Gyutaro’s raspy voice cut through over the muffled sounds from his headset. His eyes were glued to the screen, leaning forwards so that his back curved unnaturally. “Awww, come on man!” He sighed, eyebrows pinching together as another of his teammates got downed.
This was how he spent most of his days. The sun was beginning to rise behind his blackout curtains, not that he cared. His younger sister would be awake by now, probably filming a get ready video for her followers. The last two weeks were filled with videos of her packing her suitcases, her purse, try-on hauls for bikinis. This morning would probably be “get ready with me for the airport” or something like that.
“Let’s third party,” one of his team suggested, a wicked grin twisting Gyutaro’s face at the suggestion.
“God damn kill thief,” he muttered a few minutes later when his wandering companion decided to show back up at the last second and shoot the final shot on three enemies.
“Should’ve reloaded faster then,” his nightmare of a teammate whined at him. He didn’t even know why he was still friends with them.
Twenty minutes later, Gyutaro cracked open his fifth monster energy drink, sipping the bubbles that spilled over onto the lip of the can. He leaned back in his gaming chair, the plush leather cushioning his aching shoulders. It was hard work carrying a whole team.
He stared at the victory screen long after the party ended, basking in happiness for a while instead of starting up another match solo. But a breeze and shaft of light alerted him to his door being opened, so he pulled his headset off one ear and turned a little to see his sister standing in the doorway.
Her long white hair was pushed back with a headband, green wedges stomping into his room without asking. A usual occurrence. “I came to say goodbye before I left.” She said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
Ume had been gushing about this trip to meet with other influencers in Europe for weeks now. She came into his bedroom at least once a day to ramble on about how fun it would be. You’d think she got enough of her excitement out in the lives she was hosting for her followers that lasted most of the day. But Ume always liked to talk about herself and her plans, even to people that had already heard it a dozen times.
“Is it that day already?” Gyutaro feigned ignorance, causing his sister to scowl.
“Yes. I know you know that.” She came further into the room, leaning like she was going to sit on his bed and then pulling away when she thought better of it. Even Gyutaro couldn’t remember the last time he had changed his sheets, so it was probably for the best.
“I’m worried about you ‘Taro! Who’s going to look after you while I’m gone?”
Look after him? He’s the one who looks after her, not the other way around. He pays the bills for their apartment so that his baby sister is free to buy all the expensive clothes and makeup she wants. He’s always made sure she was taken care of, taking up the odd tech job here and there to afford anything she needed while also keeping his schedule mostly free for gaming.
“I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about your pretty face attracting the attention of some scummy human trafficker.”
Ume rolled her eyes to the ceiling, kicking an empty monster can his floor. “Don’t worry about that. I can take care of myself. Besides… “ she said, mumbling the next part so that Gyutaro had to strain to hear it. “‘Zan is coming with me.”
Ugh.
“Great.” Gyutaro groaned, pulling his headset off completely like he really needed to hear this bullshit. “That makes me feel so much better.” Muzan was the creep that had been obsessed with his sister since forever. Ume always said there was nothing going on between them, but the amount of fawning and doe eyes she did at him said otherwise.
“You’ve got to give him a chance Taro! He cares about me.”
“He gives me the creeps.”
“He’s not a creep!” She stomps her foot, scattering a few more cans across the room. “He has almost two million followers.”
“How many followers he has doesn’t mean he’s not a-“ Gyutaro growled out loud, scrubbing his hands over his face. They’d been over this a dozen times before, and he knew there was no winning this argument. “Never mind. Do you want me to help you carry your bags down to your taxi?”
“No,” she waved a dismissive hand, shaking her head. “I tipped the driver extra to come up and carry all my stuff.”
“So then why are you still in my room? You could have texted me all of this.” Gyutaro complained. Ume sent him three hundred texts a day, any one of them could have been telling him all of this stuff without interrupting his gaming. Secretly, he was glad for the chat with her. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Well…” she said, coyly avoiding looking at him in a very suspicious way. “I actually found a friend to look after you while I’m gone.”
“You what?”
“She’s highly recommended!” Ume defended, “she’ll cook and clean, and make sure you’re eating while I’m gone.”
“I don’t need a baby sitter to look after me.” Gyutaro glared, turning his chair fully around to look at her now.
“Well technically she’s a dog sitter…”
“What.” he deadpanned.
“But it’s fine! She housesits too, and it’s basically the same thing. I don’t have time to introduce you, but she already has a key so she should be here tomorrow.”
“I don’t want anyone here!” He growled, almost annoyed enough to stand up. Almost. “I was looking forwards to having the house to myself.”
His little sister rolled her eyes. “No, you weren’t. You barely leave your room even when I’m not here. It’ll be fine, and this way I can enjoy my trip without worrying about you!”
Gyutaro’s energy drink was flat by the time he stopped staring at his empty room. His sister had long since left for the airport, pressing a dainty kiss on his cheek before she did. He hadn’t even stood a chance arguing with her. Sometimes she batted her eyelashes and gave him a stupid empty expression, and he gave her whatever she wanted. A curse of his.
The following day he slept until the late afternoon; energy drinks could only do so much after two all-nighters. Sleep clung to his eyelashes and he rubbed at them, the dark circles beneath his eyes slightly tender. Usually, he’d just wake up to piss and then slink back into his room to start up his computer, but something in the kitchen smelled… not microwaved and it drew him in before he knew what happened.
Lurking at the kitchen entrance and squinting like the light was offending him, he caught sight of the source. The back of a brunette head stood in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot. She was short, and okay most people were short to Gyutaro, but she was like, really short. Couldn’t be more than 5’2, in a knitted brown sweater and an apron tied around her waist that he vaguely remembered Ume wearing once during a (failed) cooking tutorial.
His bare feet didn’t make any noise when he padded into the kitchen, approaching a cutting board with vegetables chopped and waiting. He poked at some broccoli with a finger like it was some alien substance, making a face. There’s a container of cherry tomatoes that he picks up like it’s a bomb, accidentally tipping some over onto the counter with several small bumps.
The girl turns at the noise, and she jolts, eyes widening. “Shit!” She gasps, the wooden spoon in her hand jerking up in front of her for a second like a shield. The woman blinks a few times, then pastes a strained smile on her face, her voice oddly polite for someone who just cursed. “I didn’t hear you come in. You must be Gyutaro, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
Gyutaro glowers, standing there and exuding his unhappy aura all over the kitchen. The silence stretches uncomfortably, once she opens her mouth to try to break the tension, he interrupts her in a deadpan. “You bring all this food for yourself, or are you planning on having a party in my house?”
It’s not aggressive, it’s worse; dismissive. It doesn’t matter that Ume hired her, she’s tottering around his kitchen, filling his house with the smell of food that hasn’t been vacuum sealed. It’s pissing him off, the fact that she’s actually here to babysit him.
He sees her chipper mask crack, just for a second. Her eyes squint, like she’s clocked his attitude, and then it’s gone just as quickly. She smiles again, wider this time, and turns to grab a Tupperware off the counter and hand it to him.
Gyutaro almost doesn’t open it, and he wishes he hadn’t when he did. He just stands there, staring at the container in his hands in disbelief. This complete stranger just walked into his home, lured him from his lair, and then offered him vegetables?
An hour later, if Ume bothered to check her phone since her “I landed safe” text the other day, she would see she had ten missed calls.
Gyutaro doesn’t dare wander out of his room again until three o’clock in the morning. He feels like a child, peaking his head out of his bedroom to see if his parents are asleep yet. It’s humiliating. When he finally makes it to the kitchen and opens up the fridge to retrieve the six pack of monster he’d left there, he sees the previously empty shelves filled with containers of food.
Her first day here and she’d spent it all meal prepping? His lip curls and he slinks back to his room, hoping it would be the last time he’d need to come out for the next twelve hours. Gyutaro would be fine, he’d just treat this like the days his sister was filming in the living room or kitchen and avoid all the common areas. This way he wouldn’t have to see or interact with the squatter in the spare bedroom. Piece of cake.
It wasn’t actually. Three hours later, there was a light knocking at his door. Gyutaro turned slowly around in his gaming chair like he was in a horror movie, staring at the door like it had turned into a large bug.
Ignoring it would work right? He pretended not to hear the next two rounds of knocking, hoping she’d think he was a heavy sleeper. When the shadows of her feet blocking the light from under the door disappeared, he assumed it had worked. Barely twenty minutes later, and all of a sudden his door clicked open and the girl was actually barging into his bedroom.
He wheeled around in his chair, furious. “What the hell?” His voice is horse from disuse.
“Hi, breakfast.” Is all she says, shoving aside his computer mouse and setting the plate of eggs and sliced fruit down in its place.
“You can’t just bust into my room! Who do you think you are?”
“Yes I can,” she says, completely unbothered. It just pisses Gyutaro off more. She slips her phone out from the front of her pocket, turning on the screen and showing it to him.
Boss Ume: He’ll be up at 6, bring him breakfast
He’s not answering
Maybe he’s still sleeping, want me to wait or….
Boss Ume: He’s faking. Bust it in. Trust me.
Gyutaro grits his teeth, turning to glare at the plate of food like it was at fault. She sets down a bottle of water next to it, like he was actually going to drink that. He’s about to say as much when she stabs him in the eyeballs.
Not actually, but she might as well have. His black out curtains are being untacked from where he secured them closed. Sunlight streams in when she pushes them aside, making him shield his eyes with his arms. All Gyutaro can manage is an indignant growl.
“You need sunlight or you’re going to turn into a mushroom.”
He squints out at her, teeth bared like he wanted nothing more than to hiss at her. She was looking around the now illuminated room with a carefully blank expression, taking in the mess. He waited for her to say something, to scold him for the trash or the laundry or the general filth. But she didn’t, just glanced at a stack of empty energy drink boxes and sighed. “I think I should have brought you two waters.”
Gyutaro doesn’t dignify that with a response, just turns his head up to glare at her. “I’m doing laundry later, let me know if there’s anything special you want washed.”
He ignores her. When she finally leaves, he shoves the water aside and grabs an energy drink out of spite. He eats the eggs though, trying not to think too much about how good they taste. Everything tasted better when someone was pretending you were worth feeding.
True to her word, later that day she’s buzzing around his bedroom like a great big housefly, gathering up laundry while he tries to game. If she thought he was going to help her, she was sorely mistaken. He expects some reaction to his passive aggression, but she dutifully ignores it, which just pisses him off more.
A few cans tumble onto the ground with a clang when she dislodges a pile of clothes and trash to get at a dirty hoodie, and he misses his shot in surprise. “What’s that sound?” His teammates voice crackles through their shitty mic and into his ear.
Gyutaro sighed, “I’ve got a pest problem right now thanks to my sister.”
To his irritation, she doesn’t even stop to look at him, Just keeps separating the pile to sort out all the clothes. “Aww man, that sucks. Is she one of those girls with a depression room? I had a girlfriend like that.”
His grip on the mouse tightens so much he can hear the clickers groan. “Less talking, more shooting.”
She interrupts him, setting down a water bottle right next to his computer mouse. “With the amount of cans in this room, you’re gonna die of scurvy.”
Gyutaro rolled his eyes, “energy drinks have plenty of vitamin c.”
“I’m surprised you even know what scurvy is.”
“I’m not stupid.”
His friend on the mic chimes in unhelpfully with a “yes you are.” He doesn’t revive him when he gets knocked.
The washer and dryer is running for the rest of the day. He can hear it from his bedroom, even over the sound of him munching on chips and watching some streamer playing Dead By Daylight. She keeps coming into his room every now and then, and he’s not even allowed to complain about it because Ume had given him an earful when she finally answered her phone.
Even his bed had been stripped down, slightly stained mattress reeking of Febreze and baking soda she’d used to clean it. She barely acknowledged him until dinner, when she brought him a bowl of chicken, broccoli, and rice that he refused to let her set down.
She’d tried to move his mouse like last time, but he already knew that trick. Laid his hand down flat where it had been before she could set the bowl there. When she tried to put it somewhere else on the desk, he covered that too until nearly all his upper body was laying on top of the desk in an effort to cover every inch.
The girl was not amused. She stood there, her carefully crafted façade of professionalism cracking. He thought he had her, even found a smirk curling at the corners of his lips at out stubborn-ing her. And then she was shoving a fork with a piece of broccoli speared on it towards his face. He jerked back, and the second he did she set the bowl down on the table where he had been.
Smug. Disgustingly smug. That was the only way to describe the look on her face. He was fuming, and he hated to admit it, but a little impressed. Then she set yet another bottle of water down next to the bowl, and he crossed his arms like a petulant child.
“The second to last load of laundry is almost done, just have a few more things to wash. If you wanna take off what you’re wearing and leave it outside the door, I’ll bring you something else to wear so I can wash it.”
Breaking his silence, he grabbed his fork and pushed around some rice. He didn’t want her touching his stuff, touching something that was still warm with his filthy body heat. “This isn’t dirty.”
“Ume said that’s the same thing you were wearing when she left for her trip.”
He grunted, “tough. I’m not taking it off.” It wasn’t just about the principle of it. He knew the thing was sweaty, the front slightly sticky from a drink he’d spilled on it earlier. Gyutaro didn’t understand why she couldn’t just let him be filthy and miserable in peace. “Don’t you have anything else to do while you’re here besides bothering me?”
“Your sister is paying me very well to bother you.” In his peripheral, he could see her arms cross. “Just set the stuff outside your door for me to wash,” she said before leaving to go check the dryer.
“This is ridiculous.” He grumbled, shoveling in an angry mouthful of rice. Gyutaro couldn’t believe Ume had actually authorized her to do all this shit. She was the little sister, and she wasn’t even here to chide him into submission. Why did he even have to put up with this?
Ume never did anything like this before. Like she would actually bother to come into his room and harass him this much. Sure, the normal sisterly bossing happened from time to time. But she’d never go out of her way to do all of this. He guesses since she’s paying someone, she can make them do all the stuff she never made the effort to do. Unlucky for him.
Little victories. When she comes back for his clothes, she finds the bedroom door still open. He can almost feel her eyes burning holes in the back of his head, but he doesn’t care. Her presence is looming behind him, a prickling on the back of his neck that he tries to ignore as he navigates Slappy Shores in Fortnight.
She would probably just go tattling to Ume, but he’d already shut off his phone. A tiny runt of a woman, what was she even going to do about it?
Five minutes later his mouse lay upside down on the floor, computer monitor displaying his dead character in the background as he fought for his real life. His hoodie is halfway off one arm, and he’s jerking the other along with his head back to try and release her grip on the hood.
All pretense of sweetness is gone, her teeth are bared at him and they’re both practically spitting at each other. The girl’s feet are somehow cemented to the ground as she claws at his clothes, fingers like iron where he tries to pry them loose.
He’s loosing. It’s a horrifying realization, that the five-foot nothing pretty-girl intruder is actually overpowering him right now. His favorite hoodie is slipping over his other shoulder, any second now she’s actually going to win. Out of desperation, he twists his head violently towards the arm grabbing his hood, chomping down on her wrist.
The woman’s skin is soft under his teeth- he hates how aware of that he is. She smells slightly of lavender, and who even smells like a flower after doing laundry all day? She probably thinks it’s disgusting, a sewer rat gnawing on her in it’s death throws.
“Did you seriously just bite me?” Her shrill voice yells in his ear, and to his chagrin she becomes even stronger. She’d probably be gagging if she wasn’t so busy winning. Instead, his grey hoodie is ripped off his body before he knows what happened, and she throws it behind her to grab ahold of his shorts too.
When she’s gone, Gyutaro is left sitting crooked in his gaming chair in nothing but his boxers, panting and rubbing at the claw marks along his forearm. He’s so out of breath that he even thinks about taking a drink of the water she’d brought him, but he digs his fingers into his palms as punishment for the thought. He couldn’t fall for this, give into her fake kindness. She couldn’t possibly care whether a thing like him died of dehydration if she wasn’t making money off of him. How has it only been one damn day?
The second day goes a lot smoother. Bed freshly made and a basket of folded clothes on the floor, she only comes in to bring him food and water, then takes away his dirty dishes when he’s done. He refuses to speak to her, doesn’t say a word. Maybe the silent treatment was childish, but he didn’t care. He felt humiliated, angry that she’d manhandled him and left him feeling so exposed- and not just physically.
She stopped trying to be sweet, dropping the fake smile. He likes it better that way, the kindness unnerved him. No one was that nice, especially not to him. The stress of it all is really starting to get to him though. His neck feels more tense than usual, and he shuts off his computer in favor of laying down on top of his bed.
It had been a good while since he’d gotten off, and he figured it was safe now that it was after dinner time. He deserved it too, after the hell he’d been put through lately. Maybe working off a little steam could be his reward.
Gyutaro pulls his soft dick from his shorts, giving it a few lazy strokes as he leans back and scrolls through his bookmarks. He clicks to one of his favorite videos, scrolling down to the recommended instead of watching it. He was in the mood for something new, and a thumbnail with some busty woman caught his attention.
The man settled into his pillows, holding the phone at arm’s length and rubbing his thumb over the tip of his cock. The video had just started to get good; he was fully hard and pumping himself steadily when his bedroom door opened again.
His helper is standing in the door, in the middle of saying “how do you turn the ac down” when her voice died. Then she scowls, like actually scowls at the sight of him hastily trying to cover his dick. “I just washed those sheets, you better not get cum on them.”
She’s not even blushing, not even a little embarrassed or surprised. Is he that predictable? That repulsive? He gapes at her like a fish out of water until she closes the door behind her, and he lets out a strangled sort of sound. What the hell?
Gyutaro turns to speak to her the next morning when she brings him breakfast, intending to say something about the night before and her needing to knock. But he’s cut short, eyes suddenly drawn to her chest. She’s not wearing one of those dumb grandpa sweaters of hers anymore, just a tank-top and some pajama shorts. Her pink bra is peaking in places from underneath her shirt, and the top of her breasts are completely visible. It’s like someone poured water on his circuit board.
There’s a little mole on her left breast, cute and dainty on the peach-colored skin. They move with the rise and fall of her chest, and he’s wondering how the hell she kept two things so big hidden. He’s snapped out of it then, literally, cause she’s snapping her fingers in front of his face.
“Eyes up here, dog-boy.” He can’t even be indignant at that nickname after he’d bitten her the other day. “If you’re going to keep ogling me, you better start drinking this damn water I’ve been bringing you.”
Gyutaro boots back online, maybe even more embarrassed than he had been last night. The water? Like, if he’s going to act like a thirsty mutt, he better start hydrating like one. It burns because she’s not wrong, he knows he’s been avoiding the water she brings him on purpose. He covers it up by scowling and gritting his teeth. “If you’re going to keep barging into my room, you better put some clothes on. Nobody here’s impressed with you showing off.”
“I’m literally just wearing pajamas.” She said, pursing her lips, eyebrows raised like she’s thinking poor little incel. She saw right through him lashing out and trying to claw back some shred of his dignity. He wants to win, even this small victory, but she’s not even trying and he’s still losing. “Not my problem you’ve never seen a woman in real life.”
He could strangle her.
Day three, she steals all the empty cans from his bedroom. He argues about getting the money back from recycling, but he’s shut down when she points out he’d have to actually leave his room for that to happen. He goes back to the silent treatment; she was getting paid to mess with his life. Even if she wasn’t, she’d never bother if he weren’t some charity case with a semi-famous sister.
Just like that, his lair is starting to look more and more like a bedroom. There’s no more trash or clothes on the floor, the flytrap hanging in the corner had killed almost all of his unwanted guests, and even that mysterious stain in the middle of the floor had been scrubbed clean.
If you asked him, it was not an improvement. She’d spent way too much time in his room again for his liking, and this time she was wearing skimpy clothes on purpose. He swears! Maybe leggings and a tank-top wouldn’t be considered skimpy to most people, but the way her curves and breasts moved beneath them when she walked? Indecent. He was in hell.
Somehow, he found himself throwing his monster cans into the trash next to him instead of on the floor. His dirty clothes found their way on the ground next to the laundry basket instead of wherever was convenient. Gyutaro had even taken a few sips of water when she wasn’t around to see. But he might have gotten jizz on his sheets on purpose, just to prove a point.
When she finds out, she’s livid of course. She’s saying something to him angrily, but he makes it a point to not hear the words. He doesn’t even have the energy to be angry when she pulls his headset off one ear, scowling at him. “Are you even listening to me?”
“What do you think?”
“It doesn’t even taste bad. I don’t get why you wont drink just one bottle. I even got different brands.”
“Why do you even care?”
“’Cause I always leave things better then when i got them.”
"Are you callin’ me a thing?"
“You're gonna be nothing but a corpse you don't start drinking water. Are you still mad about the other day? I’m sorry for walking in on you, but you really should lock your door or something when you do that.”
“It’s my damn house, why should I have to lock my door? Maybe you should stop barging in were you’re not wanted.” He couldn’t even look at her when he said it, the words were bitter on his tongue, he regretted them almost as soon as he said them. He could see the tilt of her head out of the corner of his eye, like she was trying to look from a better angle to see why he was mad. Stupid woman.
“Are you still pent up? Is that why you’re being so cranky today?”
Gyutaro grit his teeth, “cranky? Like a child?” He’s sulking like a kicked dog, and here she is circling like a smug cat that knocked over a potted plant. “I’m acting like this because I can’t stand you. With your stupid clean clothes, bossing me around. You’re really starting to piss me off.” She rolled her eyes. Like actually, literally, rolled her eyes at him. He could chew glass.
His nails scraped over his thighs, seething with anger. He opened his mouth to bark more insults at her, but all that came out was a wheezing sound when she grabbed his hand and put it on her breast.
It was like his body took a screenshot; every nerve jerked and froze up, Gyutaro looked down at his hand, trying to process what was happening. “What the- what are you doing?” He said, but it lacked his earlier frustration.
It’s horribly calculated, like she’s saying is this what you’re mad about? Fine. Here. “I’ve seen you looking at them.” She said, like it was something normal to just say. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. You’re making my job really fucking difficult.”
Gyutaro feels a horrible mix of sick to his stomach and giddy butterflies. It was so transactional, like his emotions were another problem for her to manage. He didn’t want to be managed. But right now, he can’t even tell if he’s offended or aroused. The worst part is he knows he’s not in control anymore, realizes he never has been.
The hand that wasn’t holding his wrist in place came close to his face and he flinches like she was going to hit him, but all she did was push his mic upwards to mute it. If he’d had the capacity, he might have wondered how she knew how to do that. But presently she was sliding her hand up over his and squeezing, making her breast pool between his fingers. Like nothing happened, like his gut reaction to jerk back expecting pain hadn’t revealed something ugly. He could hardly form a coherent thought.
“A lot of guys would kill to be touching my tits.” She said, leaning closer to his face and making his breath hitch. “They’d even pay me for it. But I don’t want money from you.”
He swallowed past the dryness in his throat, unable to tear his eyes from hers and involuntarily squeezing her on his own. They were every bit as soft as he imagined, he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in them. “What-“ he rasped, “what do you want?”
She huffed in amusement, leaning even closer until her lips were almost touching his ear. “I want you to drink your damn water.” She whispered, then she was grabbing his hand and pushing it off of her. He hopes the three empty bottles he left might be enough for another chance to feel them, even if he didn’t deserve it. It’s pathetic, how desperate he is for her approval no matter what he tries to make himself believe. He almost hates himself for that. Almost.
On the fourth day she made some monstrosity for lunch. A stir fry of nothing but vegetables and a protein shake, which might taste good but he’s in the middle of a dungeon in his game and he can’t be bothered. If he was being honest, he could barely look at her anymore without getting a hard on. He figured it was best if he avoided eye contact at all costs, at least until he was done gaming.
But three times she comes in to bother him about eating. “Gyutaro, I put your food on the table a few minutes ago.”
An unintelligible grunt.
“I made it special for you, I noticed you like snap peas best, so I put extra.”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s gonna get cold.”
“Later, busy.”
The way she’s wormed her way into his routine, just knowing when he’s up and when he’s hungry… he hates it. She’s picking up on what he likes, paying attention to something as small as a preference that even Ume never cared to see. It’s getting under his skin, feeling like she’s claiming territory in a way that rattles him down to his core. He’s trying not to acknowledge it, not to acknowledge her.
The next time she comes in, he barely knows she’s there until his screen goes dark. He turns to see her holding the unplugged cord to his monitor. She’d done it with no hesitation, cold, clean. Before he can even stand and rise to his full height to yell, her hand is on his shoulder pushing him down. “Sit.”
The veins in his neck bulge, borderline about to scream with rage. Then suddenly…
Hand. Down. His. Shorts.
Her wrist is holding the waistband of his shorts open for her hand, the rest of her fingers wrapping firmly about his soft bulge. The anger boiled off of him in a millisecond, not because it calmed him down, but because it had nowhere to go. All he could do is sit there and gape, fighting to hold back the whimper that clawed up his throat.
Gyutaro still doesn’t say anything when she pulls him out of his boxers and starts stroking him up and down slowly. The sight of her thin fingers surrounding his length has his breath hitching. He swells in her hand at an alarmingly fast rate and his face jerks up to look at her when she hisses through her teeth. “Of course you’re big. Such a huge dick wasted on a jerk like you. Typical.” Despite her cruel words, her tone was more admiring than anything. Jerk wasn’t anywhere close to the worst thing he’d been called, but coming from her mouth it didn’t feel like a barb.
He can't believe this is happening. When her thumb rubs over his sensitive tip, stroking back and forth over his slit he grabs at her wrist. His thighs shake a little in overstimulation, the direct pleasure there almost too much.
“Hands off.” This time her tone is fierce and it surprises him enough that he let’s go before he realizes he did it.
She stops the torture and returns to jerking him, flicking her wrist like she’d done it a million times. Her arm flexed a little, but she seemed otherwise unbothered. Meanwhile Gyutaro’s headset had slipped partway off his head, sitting crooked while he gasped and moaned and pushed himself up into her fist.
She bites her lip, stares down at his dick in her hand with a look like she wanted nothing more to touch him. Chose to. Like he was someone desirable and not just tolerable. Gyutaro knew better than to trust it, but fuck if he didn’t believe it for a moment.
He was plummeting towards the edge at an terrifying rate. The closer he got, the less he held back until he was clawing at the arms of his chair and his moans were bouncing off the walls.
He barely lasts two minutes and his tip is spurting out little droplets onto her and his shorts. He bites his lip so hard the chapped skin splits and bleeds, a gutteral sound being torn from his throat.
For a horrible moment he thinks she’s going to keep going, to punish him for it. Almost wishes she would
Her knuckles are painted in his cum, a prettier sight he'd never seen before. She even squeezed lightly at his head to get the last few drops from him. He glanced around half heartedly for something to give her to wipe up, but all of a sudden her hand is in his face, offering
Gyutaro's eyes are round saucers, deep and swimming with vulnerability. She doesn't say anything while he stares at her face, trying to understand if he understood her right.
He barely even hesitates when she raises her eyebrows expectantly. His fingers wrap all the way around her wrist, bringing her fingers to his lips and sucking them in.
Gyutaro doesn't miss the way her breath hitches as he licks her fingers clean, fighting past the bitter taste until he can taste her bare skin. He's even reluctant to let go, like a dog with a treat he's not ready to give up. But when she's all clean she pulls her hand away from him.
She takes a deep breath, huffing it out of her lungs through a smile. “You’ll eat now, yeah? Want me to heat it up again?”
He's too busy staring down at his legs in shock to notice her thighs trembling slightly when she walks from the room.
What the hell is he even supposed to do with himself after something like that? He changes his shorts like he’s on auto pilot, sitting back down heavily in his chair and starting up a battle royal match. He needed time to process this, but in the meantime, shooting.
Maybe he shuts down afterwards, just a little. Deflated, he doesn’t even have the emotional energy to fight back much anymore. He eats what she brings him, drinks his water, even takes the occasional vitamin or two between cans of Rockstar.
She notices, because of course she does. She’s paid to notice things about his well being. Why can’t she just be happy he’s eating good now? Isn’t that enough?
Gyutaro can’t even bring himself to resent her, because at the end of the day its his fault. She actually managed to make him hope and the feeling is so wrong coming from him. There was a reason he stayed in his room all the time, didn’t take jobs outside of his computer, refused doctors visits. There wasn’t any point, not when he'd spent his whole life seeing how normal people reacted to scum like him being in their presence.
She pokes at him like an idiot with a bear, and he hardly snaps at her. Barely glares when she pulls an energy drink from his hand and replaces it with sugar free Gatorade. Its so unlike him that if Ume had been there she would have started screaming at him to get his attention.
Half heartedly, he grabs at the edges of his desk to try and keep from moving when she spins him around to face her, sunken eyes glowering at the interruption. She’s saying something to him, an unintelligible babble that he can’t make out. He thinks she might be able to tell, then out of nowhere it’s like someone turned the volume back on. He can hear the AC in the corner of the room, the whir of the fan on his modem, birds chirping outside his window. Because her lips are on his.
She’s kissing him.
Not like a little peck, but a full kiss on the mouth that she holds there. After three seconds he expected her to pull away gag or retch at having touched him that way, but she takes a lot longer then that. When she finally does move away its slow, not panicked.
“Why did you do that?” it’s not accusatory, just small and unsure.
She smiled, and for a second he thought he could see the blush coloring her cheeks. Laughing a little nervously, like whatever she was thinking she was shy about. She didn’t answer shyly though. “Your orgasm face looks so pretty, I wanted to see if it looked that good when I kissed you.”
Pretty?
Him?
The breath of Gyutaro’s next inhale shook with emotion, hands clenching in his lap when her fingers slid against his cheek to the side of his face. His eyes prick.
It's not manipulation, not more psychological warfare. No, the way she’s looking at him is so genuine and open, the smirk twisting her lips at her vulgarity isn’t in mocking. There’s no teasing or gloating, and she’s not handling him like she always does. Just stroking over his birthmarks like he’s something worth touching. There’s no words for him to speak.
“You’re taking a shower.”
The words that fell on his ears the seventh day might have been a death sentence with the alarmed look Gyutaro gave. “No.” He said, and it was automatic. Like he even had a choice. “I showered last week.”
She put her hand on her hips, and he tries not to watch the way it made her chest jiggle a little. “You think you’re so stubborn? I’ve met birds more difficult than you. I dragged a Saint Bernard into the bathtub by myself, you think you’re going to be a challenge?”
Gyutaro glared daggers at her, crossing his arms. “I said no.”
And he fought her all the way down the hallway too, practically clawing at the walls and door frames like a cat being drown. He digs his heels into the ground, even tries to bite her again when they get to the bathroom. It’s not that he’s scared of the water or anything, it’s about the principal, you know?
She’s turned on the water, still holding his shirt in her fist while she does it. “So help me, I’ll throw you in there clothes and all!”
Which is exactly what she ends up doing, like shoving a growling mut under a hose. Water streams down his face, greasy hair acting like a water barrier so that it just pours off it. At the last second before she can shut the glass door, he’s grabbing her upper arm in retaliation and tugging her along with him.
She practically squeals as the water hits her, scrambling for the door that Gyutaro already has blocked. “I told you!” He said, shoving a finger into her shoulder. “If I’m going down, you’re going down with me!”
Her jaw hangs open in anger, staring up at him through her rapidly soaking hair. For a second there he thinks she might actually hit him. But then she’s pulling her soaking wet shirt off over her head and Gyutaro nearly has a stroke.
He just stands there staring, barely flinching when she balls up the shirt and throws it into his chest with a wet plop. When her hands reach around to unsnap her bra he lets out a sound uncomfortably close to a squeak. “What are you doing?”
She laughs at him, shaking her head. “If you wanted to take a shower with me so bad, all you had to do was ask.”
“What?” He scoffed, “that’s not what this is!”
She gives him an unimpressed look that he barely catches cause his eyes are sliding down to her nipples. They’re pink and flushed, begging for his mouth to bite at them. She’s busy pouring soap into her hands and coming even closer.
Soap and all, she snatches as his hips to tug off his loose, wet basket ball shorts. He’s bare underneath, hadn’t bothered to put on clean underwear despite the fresh stack in his dresser. Even the anxiety of her presence wasn’t enough to stop the excitement of her touching him, his darkly pigmented cock was beginning to swell up and tilt towards his belly.
She doesn’t waste any time once he’s completely undressed, reaching to stroke him with her soap slicked hand. It feels when better than before, a surprised groan bubbling past his lips. Her thumb started pressing into his foreskin in a circle to clean inside, all the sensitive nerves there making it feel like electricity was racing up his spine.
Gyutaro is trembling, clutching onto the tiles of the shower like he might fall over. When she looks at him, she smiles like it’s funny. The sick, twisted part of his brain pollutes his thoughts, turning the smile into her laughing at him. The fact that he’s falling apart over this, that he might be thinking he’s worthy to be touched.
Then her lips are on his and the thoughts melt away. He grabs onto her shoulders, grounding himself for when she slides her hand down his length and onto his balls.
I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum
He cant think of anything else with her slippery fingers fondling him, pillowy chest pressing against his stomach while she kisses the air out of his lungs.
I’m gonna cum while this pretty girl is touching a disgusting thing like me. I’m gonna cum all over myself like a pathetic virgin.
When he’s clean there too, she moves to let the shower head rinse the soap suds from him. Her wet eyelashes cling together, a detail he zeros in on to avoid how she gazes at him with such soft affection. He doesn’t flinch when she comes close again, tilting her head a little like she was trying to read his mind. “Want me to finish you?”
Despite the lump in his throat, he’s nodding eagerly. He cries out when she drops to her knees in front of him and slips the tip of his cock into her wet mouth. Gyutaro doesn’t even get the courtesy to warn her a few seconds later when he cums, bitter fluid painting her tongue and lips.
Like some kind of angel, she’s not even mad. He helps her back to her feet even though he’s even more unsteady than she is, then she’s tugging at his shirt when she gains her balance.
He resists her this time, pulling the ends down while she tries to force them up. When she reaches around and grabs his ass, he's so shocked he stops fighting and she gets the wet thing off over his head. His hands come to cover his belly, his ribs sunken in, torso gaunt and stomach twisted with ragged scars and dark blotches.
She stares for what feels like forever, Gyutaro has insults for her scraping their way up his throat. Instead her hands reach out and slide over his stomach and torso with awe as if shes stroking over defined abs and not his palid, gaunt skin.
The woman has to stand up on her tiptoes to reach his neck, lips pressing hot and open-mouthed against his collar- bone. He doesn’t deserve this, shouldn’t even think about touching her. But he does, he puts his hand on the back of her head, holding her face closer to him and leaning down slightly.
Gyutaro wants to kiss her again, wants to feel more of her. His teeth gnash against the soft flesh of his cheeks, drawing blood. But when she pulls away, he doesn’t stop her.
“Finish your shower, kay? I’m supposed to check in with your sister soon.”
Gyutaro puts little effort into washing his hair, spends most of the time brushing his teeth under the water like some foaming, rabid animal. When he gets out there’s a clean towel waiting for him, and rather that wrapping it over his torso to hide his stomach, he ties it around his waist.
The man hears her voice when he reaches the end of the hallway. He’s sure she’ll yell at him later about the wet foot prints he’s leaving, but he doesnt care. Right now he’s too curious to hear what she’s saying to his sister.
“-promise he’s doing fine. I don’t know why his phone is going to voice mail, I’ll have to ask him when he gets out of the shower …. Yes, he’s in the shower …. Okay, alright. I’ll tell him.... I’ll talk to you tomorrow then ….. yup, goodbye.”
She lets out a tiny shriek when she turns to find Gyutaro looming behind her, it quickly turns into a frown. “Do you always have to do that? Lurk around like some- some silent cryptid?”
For the first time all week, he actually smiles. “Are you alright?”
She nods absently, setting her phone down on a decorative table in the hallway. “Yes, your sister is just worried cause your phone is off.”
“Whoops.”
“Yeah whoops.” She rolls her eyes, “I got an earful. Go get dressed and call your damn sister.”
His call with Ume barely lasts two minutes, just long enough to confirm he isn’t dead and swear he’s not gonna turn his phone off again. Gyutaro tries asking her how her trip is going, but someone in the background is calling her and she hangs up on him. Typical.
That night she comes out of the bathroom wearing one of his old shirts. It’s frayed around the edges and too long, her hair is pulled back in a braid and she’s yawning “goodnight” and heading to her room.
“Why are you wearing that?”
“Huh? Oh, I just…” She pauses, looking down at herself. “It felt really soft and I’m kind of tired of sleeping in tank tops. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? She hopes he doesn’t mind?
Gyutaro is stood frozen in the hallway, just staring at her sleepy expression. For a moment he sees her brushing her teeth in his bathroom sink, leaving stray hairs all over his bedroom, crawling into his bed at night instead of the guest bed. He sees her there forever. And that? That terrifies him.
Past the shaking, his face curls into something vicious. “I do fucking mind. You can’t just go around wearing my shirts.”
She looks taken aback, blinking rapidly. “Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“
“Didn’t mean to what?” He snaps, “didn’t mean to invade every aspect of my life? To act like a prostitute? Steal my clothes? Stop acting like my fucking girlfriend, cause you’re not!”
Her pretty, soft face is marred by the anger suddenly there, and he relishes it. That’s how she should be looking at him, not with adoration, but with hate. “Then why don’t you stop looking at me like you want me to be?”
You could cut the tension with a knife. Her sharp tongue had once again pierced the most vulnerable part of his heart and he was left in ruin. Because she's right, he knows she is. He wants that, wants her. And he hates himself for craving someone that made him feel even halfway decent.
He stalks forwards, every inch of his body language exuding aggression. But she stands her ground, at least until he picks her up off her feet and slams her back into the hallway wall. When his mouth meets hers in more of a hard press than a kiss, she doesn’t fight him.
She weighs almost nothing to him, his body curves around her like he’s caging her in completely. He barely pulls away, then he’s sucking filthy kisses on her neck and fumbling his pants down so he can get inside of her.
“Fucking- finally” she pants out.
Her thighs tremble when he rips her panties away, holding her up with one arm while the other slides through her folds. She’s already a little wet, even though the only thing he’d done to her so far was yell at her. It was something that he’d have dwell on later though, because he was knuckle deep in her cunt and it didn’t feel like he’d need to stretch her for it.
She gasps as he removes his fingers, trying to angle his cock to catch on her entrance. He growls when he finally sinks in, hand tightening on her hip so hard it could bruise. She doesn’t complain.
Gyutaro doesn’t waste any time with gentle movements, his hips immediately begin to thrust up inside of her the second he’s completely inside. Her head smacks against the wall with the force of it, but he doesn’t care.
The little thief clutches at his shoulders like she’s doing anything to help hold herself up, “god yes”
“Your pussy’s so fucking sloppy.” He groans out the insult, shocked at how quickly she was getting soaked. I can’t believe she’s letting me do this.
“Is that the best you can do?” She taunts, thighs wrapping tightly around his thin waist to bring him closer.
Gyutaro fucks deeper into her in response. His head is swimming while he loses himself in her, to her, but the only thing his mouth can produce is cruel. She’s absolutely divine. Her hair sticking to her sweat flushed face, and she’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. “Your pussy is a fucking mess. You’re lucky I’m big or I might fall out.”
“Fuck you,” she pants, nails biting into his shoulders.
She’s perfect, so perfect he thinks he wouldn’t mind her face tattooed on his body. “You already are, stupid. Did all those cleaners damage your brain more than it already was? You’d think a slut like you would know what fucking feels like.”
She kisses him. He could suffocate against her lips, even when they nip his in anger. His movements grow erratic, fucking against her so hard both their bodies are jolted down to the bone when he bottoms out. He hardly wants this to end, but the thought of being allowed to finish inside of a goddess is making his brain fuzzy. “I’d have fucked you sooner if I knew it would get you to shut up.”
“Y-you piece of shit!” the words were practically punched out of her. She looked like she was on the verge of going cross-eyed, her pretty doe eyes lost in pleasure.
“Well are you going to cum or not? Is your pussy broken or something?”
Her eyes do cross then, rolling back as she spasms around him and keens in ecstasy. The squelching of his thrusts grow louder as her orgasm makes her even wetter. He barely has a moment to take in her beautiful, blissed out face before he’s burying himself and spilling deep inside her.
Gyutaro holds her there for as long as she lets him, sweat drips from the tip of his nose and onto her shoulder but he doesn’t care. She catches her breath quicker than he does, tapping his shoulder and pushing against him to get set down. Reluctantly he does, feeling somehow empty inside when they’re no longer joined together.
He waits for the scolding, the regret on her face. He expects it, it’s what always happened the few times he’d been deluded enough to think someone actually wanted him back. When she doesn’t speak, just tries to stretch the soreness out of her hips he almost snaps. Instead, he curls in on himself, his fingernails scraping long red marks on his neck. “Just hurry up and say it already.” He mutters.
“Say what?” She asks, sounding confused. It was a good act.
"Tell me to get away from you.” He said, like that was obvious, “say you never should have let an ugly, disgusting thing like me touch you. Just- just say it so I can get on with my life.”
“I don’t think you’re disgusting.”
It hits him like a ton of bricks, the sincerity in her voice trying to break down his walls. “Damn liar!” He nearly shouts, “what have you been doing for the past week then? Cleaning my trash, making me shower, washing my clothes. The haircare, the teeth brushing, the sheets! I was fine before you came along, obviously you think the way I live is wrong. I’m nothing but a piece of trash my sister pays you to look after, a filthy dog that doesn’t know how to live my life.”
“I’m not doing these things because I think you’re gross! I’m doing them because they’re good for you.” She started to match his volume, getting fired up by his energy. “Because living in a safe, clean space and taking care of yourself will make you feel good. It’s not healthy to never go outside, or to put constant trash into your body. You need water, you need a safe bedroom.” She sighs, her voice softening while she gives him a sad look. “But I don’t think you’re disgusting for how you’ve been living.
“So, you would have liked me even if my bedroom stayed a disaster forever? If you had to walk past piles of trash and dirty laundry for forever, and kiss me when I haven’t showered for days?”
“Yes. But I would have been sad for you, for you to think that’s what you deserve. To be unwilling to accept help when your mental load is too much.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, it’s the truth.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes in frustration, “I swear it’s the truth.”
“Whatever you say.” Gyutaro was tired down to his bones. Unable to take anymore of her sad eyes, he started retreating to his room.
“Gyutaro?”
“What?”
“Kiss me goodnight?”
He stands in his doorframe for a long time, back facing her in silence. Finally, he turns and walks to her, finding her waiting in the hallway for him. The kiss he presses to her lips is uncharacteristically soft, and he can’t help but place another one on her forehead before he disappears for the night.
He feels a lot better when he wakes up the next morning. Or well, technically it’s the afternoon but he doesn’t care. Maybe it had something to do with the water she’d left for him on his nightstand when he woke up.
It’s not long after he wakes up before she comes into his room with breakfast as if on cue. He wonders if she just knows when he wakes up or if she somehow hears his quiet shuffling. Regardless, he stops mid game to eat the food from his plate without question. He hated to say it, but the cleaner his bedroom became the more his mind felt clear. Despite himself, he’s thriving on the structure of it all.
Gyutaro is only halfway through his meal, chugging down a bottle of water when she pulls his attention. Her hands are on his face, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s slow and deep, somehow projecting her happiness at his compliance. He can’t bring himself to care, just pulls her into his lap and holds her close. When he pulls away from the kiss to kiss along her neck, she squirms away giggling. “Finish eating.”
It only confirms it all for him. She’s still here. She’s not running away, not cringing from his touch or resisting his affection. She… she actually meant it all. It should terrify him, and it does. But also, there’s this tiny thing deep in his chest that’s been turned on. Like some kind of pilot light that hadn’t been lit before, warming up his insides.
Gyutaro asks her to stay in his room that night. He even changed the bed sheets, just like she likes them. When she curls into his chest, relaxing against him like she belongs there, he swears he feels his pilot light crackle brighter.
They don’t cuddle for long though. He was beginning to think that he wasn’t the one with a horny problem around here. Not even ten minutes later and she’s gotten him stripped down to nothing, holding his wrists above his head while she rides him. He’s not even allowed to buck up into her without a scathing look, Gyutaro is forced to lay there while she uses him like a toy, just watching her tits bounce without burying his face into them. She doesn’t stop even when he cums, milking his cock and barely acknowledging him in favor of chasing her own high.
“Be my girlfriend.” He blurts out when she’s finally done, before she’s even caught her breath, “please.”
She goes quiet and for a moment he’s afraid he’s ruined it all but then she’s laughing, and the sound is like music to his ears. “Okay. But only if you let me tie you up next time.”
“Fuuuuuck…. Yes please.”