Drunk Adachi can't get hard and angrily fucks his fleshlight while limp, growing more frustrated with himself with each stroke

Author's Notes: duran looking out for me years ago....

Tohru made it a point not to drink too much whenever Dojima would drag his ass to the bar. Dojima would get sloshed out of his mind. It was embarrassing hauling his superior into his shitty sedan, even more so when the man could barely stand on his own and fight with him. There wasn’t a point in getting anything more than a slight buzz. Someone had to be the responsible one, and he, Tohru Adachi, was the whipping boy of the department. So, no fun for him. Once Dojima was home, all tucked in in his futon and out like a light, he crashed into his bare apartment with a twelve-pack of cheap beer and even cheaper sake. He cracked open a can and went to town.

The pale, inoffensive but utterly tasteless ale stained his palate. Frustration boiled inside him as the weak carbonation fizzed on his tongue. He hated this fucking town, he hated this job, he hated how his superiors treated him and he hated being so broke that he couldn't afford decent booze. One can turned into two, and two turned into four, and so on and so on. Warmth swirled in his chest and blossomed under his skin, staining it a bright red that'd probably remind him too much of his old man when he drank. Tohru huffed. He felt light and heavy at the same time. It was as if the air around him was frozen or made of jelly. Shit, he probably went a little too hard. The buzzing of his phone pulled him back to earth, just for a moment. Groggily, he got up, staggered to the kitchen counter, and flipped open the phone.

Narukami.

His lips quirked but his expression stayed the same. It was as if he didn't know whether to smile or to frown.

'Thank you for bringing my uncle home safely. Goodnight.❤️'

A laugh escaped him as he read the message at least a dozen times. The hiragana swam across the tiny LCD, as did the little heart. What was that supposed to mean?

Right, right.

The little bitch thought she was subtle. The way she'd lean into him whenever he was at the Dojima's. The way she'd rush to her room and come back with glossed lips and a tank top that did her no favors in the chest department. He still looked though. She was literally asking for it. Of course, the near-constant offers to cook his lunches or dinners for him did little to hide her intent.

He should really teach her a lesson one of these days. Teenage girls were always such vapid sluts or complete teases. No in-betweens. He wondered what she'd turn out to be if he took her offer for dinner one day. Sneak up on her while she chopped vegetables, her back turned to him and took a handful of her surprisingly cute ass.

The thought started him off.

Tohru huffed.

'Oh, what the hell,' he thought to himself.

Within a minute, Tohru slathered lube onto his limp cock, and the fleshlight he only saved for ‘special occasions’ was in his other hand. He huffed. He imagined Yuka in his lap, her perky ass grinding against his cock as she looked over his shoulder wantonly. Her tight little cunt glided across his tip.

‘C’mon, Adachi-san,’ she whispered with a shake of her hips.

He huffed once again. The entrance to his silicone toy brushed against his still limp cock. He thrust upwards only for his cock to flop around uselessly.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Was he fucking serious?

Throwing the toy aside, he gripped the base of his prick and desperately stroked his softness. Arousal no longer pumped itself through his veins but he didn’t care. It was about pride at this point. Long gone were the fantasies of fucking his superior’s cock tease of a niece. It was about getting hard, jerking off and going to damn sleep. Sweat rolled down his brow as he stared at his cock as he stroked. His foreskin rolled back and forth to reveal his drying head as the lube in his hand began to dry and grow slightly tacky.

He didn’t care. He just didn’t care. He just wanted to cum already.

The sound of his angry, laboured breaths filled the tiny apartment as did the sound of his hand smacking against his sticky skin. Blood refused to rush to his cock and instead buzzed loudly in his ears. He tightened his grip on his cock. He imagined it was that stupid cunt Mayumi Yamano’s pussy or ass around it. It changed nothing. He imagined himself trying to fuck that high school girl’s throat as she tried to scream for help. It did nothing. Not even imagining those sluts that Yuka hung out with worshipping his woefully soft cock, full balls, or twitching asshole changed anything.

Nothing he could do or imagine made him hard.

Tears of frustration welled in his dark eyes as he chomped down on his bottom lip. His face was wet with sweat, tears, and snot, and maybe a hint of blood from how hard he was biting himself, and yet his cock stayed dry and soft. Pathetic.

Groaning, he let go of himself and flopped back onto his bed, giving up.