#no one knows how to sit and appreciate an image anymore

[micocorie]

꒰ ☘️ ꒱ # a most troublesome affair ˚ ₊ ݁♬

azul x gn!reader

idk what i'm going for with this one tbh i just wanted to see azul suffer😈

"oh, you mean azul?" you raised a brow, picking aimlessly at the potatoes on your lunch tray.

"the one and only." your friend nodded intelligently, leaning over the table and stealing one of your tomatoes, then promptly ignoring your glare.

"yeah, i like him. it's kinda crazy, i know." you looked up at the ceiling of the cafeteria, cringing at yourself for how you lost your voice at the end there. it's still a bit awkward to admit who your crush is, even if you're just regaling a friend.

"i mean, just a year ago i would've said 'azul is such a bumptous prick!'-" you exaggerated an annoyed yell to make a point, "but now i'm out here daydreaming about him, or whatever..." you felt a little flustered saying it like that, even if it was true.

well, the cafeteria is packed, so it's not like anyone would hear you, right?

the woefully, dreadfully horrible phrase 'azul is such a bumptous prick!' seemed to echo far too long in azul's head, freezing him into place at the entrance to the cafeteria. jade paused beside him, raising an intrigued brow and voicing a little hum of amusement.

"oh, dear. well, isn't that just terrible?" jade's voice was tinged with a mocking undertone and he thoughtfully placed a hand on his chin.

"huh. i'm suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore." azul tried his best to keep a neutral expression, but something tells him he wasn't doing a very good job at that. that something being jade's evil grin.

"why not? you seemed very eager just a moment ago." jade feigned surprise.

"you... i mustn't say it. such phrases are bad for my image." azul sighed in exasperation, looking at his friend askance.

"it seems that refraining from using foul language hasn't prevented a certain someone from-"

"i'd appreciate it if you stayed quiet." azul's entire face twisted with a mixture of pain, embarrassment and anger. mostly the former two.

he doesn't really mind being called that by anyone else in the world. suffice to say, he's heard much worse. the issue is that it's you who said it.

you, his (now presumably unrequited) crush.

.

"hey, what's up with azul today? he looks like one of those dried octopi you'd find on a skewer at festivals." floyd questioned, motioning towards azul who looked like he had had his soul sucked out of him by force, sitting behind his desk with a comically crestfallen expression.

"oh, did i not tell you yet?" jade smiled mysteriously and azul perked up in alarm.

"you are not going to rub it in right in front of me." he pleaded more than anything else, but alas, his pleas were ignored.

"today at lunch, he heard a... special someone announce that he was, and i quote, 'a bumptious prick'." jade interlaced his gloved hands, his smile widening a fraction.

"oooh, lil' shrimpy used a fancy-schmancy word and everything." the way that floyd immediately knew who jade was talking about sent a burst of proverbial lightning through azul.

he doesn't remember ever telling floyd who he likes. as a matter of fact, he doesn't even remember telling jade who he likes. he should've known that they'd find out through nefarious means.

"you know, a good friend would be comforting me right now." azul leaned his forehead onto his interlocked fingers, his elbows on the table.

on this day, azul realised that having a crush is a surprisingly troublesome affair.

[ghostedgary]

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x fem reader)

You had always been their sweetheart.

Soft, tender, and gentle- the heart of their home. The warmth in the spaces between them, the one they curled around after long days of violence, soothed by your touch and your voice, the way you cared for them without hesitation. No matter how much blood stained their hands, no matter what nightmares haunted their sleep, you were there. Unshaken. Unyielding in your love, hands gentle and soft as you cradled them close and warm.

So they had never needed to know about the things you kept buried.

The past you refused to unearth. The things you could do, the person you had been before them- before you had a home to call your own, before you had people who held you just as carefully as you held them.

They didn’t need to know, and you didn’t need to think about it.

Until they went missing.

You first learned something was wrong when John’s daily check-in didn’t come.

It had always been a habit of his, something he did without fail, no matter how far away he was. Just to let you know I’m breathing, love. That was what he had said, years ago, the first time he had explained it to you. You had teased him for it- What, you don’t trust me to not burn the house down?- but he had only smiled, voice steady and sure when he told you, I like knowing you’re safe.

It had never failed. Not once. Even when he himself could not text you, Lasswell herself assured you they were fine and merely had to be careful.

But now came the silence.

No messages. No calls. No updates.

You tried not to panic. They were on a mission, after all. Maybe something had gone wrong with their comms, or maybe they had been forced to go dark, and Lasswell was busy. It had happened before, and they had always come back to you, whole and alive, pressing their faces into your neck, murmuring apologies and reassurances.

But then a full week passed.

Then two.

And no one would tell you a thing and Lasswell wasn’t picking up, either.

You had tried- had called, had knocked on doors, had pushed until you were met with polite deflections and stone-cold refusals.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that information is classified.”

“There’s nothing we can share at this time.”

“We appreciate your patience.”

Patience.

As if you would sit here, helpless, and just wait. Hopeless, and helpless, and unable to do a single thing to help then.

No. No, you had done that before. You had waited before. And it had cost you everything.

You weren’t that girl anymore. You weren’t a victim of circumstance, hoping for scraps of kindness, praying for someone to do right by you.

If no one would help, you would do it yourself; because they were yours, and they were the best thing that have ever happened to you, and you weren’t going to lose them.

Tracking them down was easier than you expected.

You had spent years curating the image of someone soft and harmless, someone not worth keeping secrets from. And people loved to talk. Especially when they thought you were just a grieving, desperate woman trying to find a lost fiancé and his friends.

All it had taken was a few well-placed words, a few tearful looks, and doors had opened.

It had taken only days to pinpoint their last known location, then. After you’d hunted down Laswell, and had her help you. Though you were glad to see that she was working to find out where they were, as well, and merely lacked the manpower because of some general named Shepherd.

You filed the name away for later thoughts.

A warlord with connections to arms smuggling in Eastern Europe. An old base, abandoned by one regime and taken over by another. And your men had been sent in to dismantle it.

But they hadn’t come back. MIA, the reports said.

You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t care for those three letters. You moved.

You gathered supplies, mapped out your route, planned your approach with the precision of someone who had done it before. You emptied old caches, dusted off weapons you hadn’t touched in years, and set off.

The infiltration was clean; a single shadow among many, slipping between patrols, cutting down obstacles with silent, brutal efficiency. Years it may have been, you hadn’t gotten as rusty as you’d feared you’d be.

You had never been squeamish. You had learned long ago that softness had no place in survival- but it could thrive and bloom in the aftermath, a stubborn weed that eventually makes way for a full bouquet.

But this was different.

This was fury burning in your blood as you carved a path forward, every movement precise- you couldn’t afford any less.

You didn’t stop, no matter what.

Not until you found them at last, and your heart ached something fierce abd sharp in your chest.

Caged. Beaten. Bound but not broken- and drugged.

I should have been more rough, you mourn for a split second. An easy death was more mercy than what was deserved.

John’s head lifted first, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Love-?”

Then Simon, bloodied but breathing, his body sluggish with whatever chemicals they had pumped into him. Every part of him was covered in blood and cuts.

Johnny’s voice, then, hoarse and raw, full of disbelief and worry. “No. No, you’re not- this insnae real-“

And Kyle, whose breath hitched as you knelt beside him, gentle fingers brushing against his bruised face.

They thought they were dreaming; they thought you weren’t real.

And maybe that was a… mercy.

Because if they had been clear-headed, if they had seen what you had done to get here, if they had watched the way you had cut down anyone in your path with merciless efficiency-

They would have looked at you differently.

And you couldn’t bear that. To have their illusion of your gentleness shattered like that…

So you played along.

Whispered reassurances, pressed kisses to sweat-damp foreheads, untied their bindings with careful hands. You coaxed them to move, guided them through the corridors you’d emptied, wiped away the blood that dripped from their skinz

And when they sagged against you, too dazed to fight, too lost in the haze of their drugged delirium, you held them-

Kept them safe, and brought them home.

Later, they woke in a hospital, clean and stitched and safe.

You were already there, fussing over them, your voice soft and sweet, your fingers gentle as you pressed cool cloths to fever-warm skin, brushed stray curls from foreheads, adjusted pillows and blankets with quiet determination. Dressed in something white and pink, the colors of innocence, nails cleaned of blood even if your hands will never be truly clean.

You looked the same as ever.

Pretty and delicate, their lovely girl, their tender-hearted sweetheart.

And for all that had happened, all that they had suffered, all that you had done-

They never suspected a single thing, and you didn’t tell them; didn’t tell them that there had been no extraction team. That there had been no grand military rescue- not even from the the same military that had abandoned them.

(His name was General Shepherd. You will not forget it- you’d need to carve his name on the bullet you’ll save just for him, after all.)

That it had been you.

Only you.

Only Laswell knew the truth, and she would keep your secret because she understood what it meant to protect the people you loved.

And if you had to carry this weight alone to keep them from ever looking at you like you were something other-

So be it.

You sat beside John, pressing a kiss to his temple as his fingers curled weakly around yours.

You smiled at Simon when his hand brushed against your knee, seeking reassurance, seeking you, his eyes tired.

You let Johnny hold you, his arms tight around your waist as he mumbled something unintelligible against your shoulder, still half-lost in the remnants of the drugs.

And when Kyle murmured: “At leas’ you’re safe, pretty.” His voice thick with sleep-

You just smiled and ran your fingers carefully through his hair, and held them the way you always had.

And pretended that everything was exactly the same.

(Part Two)

[yojeongin]

it’s too bad you’re married to me | m.l

→husband!mark lee x f!reader | ft. jaehyun + jungwoo

genre: smut, angst, tragic romance, miscommunication, marriage au, 2000s au

synopsis: all mark ever does is use weaponized incompetence to get out of small tasks you ask of him. when he finally realizes you resort to his close friends to do what he can’t— nothing can prepare him for what’s in your pandora box; now karma is set in motion.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm denial, cum swallowing, jealousy, toxic relationship/love, insecurity, vomiting, work field harassment, mental health deteriorating, self sabotage, smoking, mentions of poor eating habits/self care, pregnancy, mark is a horrible husband. this is for the people who only know toxic and bad relationships, woohoo (...)

wc: 19.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | part 2

© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: it's been a year since I last updated the happy together series, I guess I lied when I said the stupid girl incident wouldn't happen with this one but hey it's finally over! this is an epilogue for happy together but can be read as it’s own part. yn’s character here isn’t the same as happy together, this is a completely different yn!! fun fact I came up with this before happy together lol

‘No one wants to think about it. About how your love may run out or hang by a thread because it’s that big, not able to be supported by one person alone. To even have the fleeting negative thought race in your mind. No one wants that.’ — April 25, 2004.

Life was sweet, it was a new romance never felt before (at least in your case). The type to make your heart swell at any sweet action. He was tender, sweet, and attentive. Whatever you asked of him, he’d have for you, ready and in your hands. Mark used to go out of his way for you but slowly the small things became a burden and any little task, he never wanted to do anymore.

Even so, now as you sit on your knees in between his legs, hearing his grunts from the pleasure he is enduring, you put off your own pleasure for his as long as the satisfaction of him feeling loved continues.

With his cock stuffed deep in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. Mark held onto the messy comforter while you kept going. Your nose hitting his pubic bone, staying still for seconds just so he could feel the warmth of your throat around him.

At that feeling Mark allowed a disgruntled moan, loud and perfect. His hips buckle forward, causing you to gag. Tearing up and finger nails softly claw his thighs. That’s the most damage you allowed yourself to cause him. His hand wraps around your hair, the sting of his pulling mirroring the one of your clawing, he was relentless unlike you.

“You’re so good to me. You feel so good, fuck!” He groans, eyes tightly shut. “I love when you gag around me, it feels so good. As if your throat still hasn’t gotten used to me after all these years, pretty girl.”

Raking your nails on the lower back of his thighs, he hisses. With his hands holding onto your head, his thrusts get harder— almost as a counter attack.

The hand you had on his thigh comes in contact with his balls, pinching them where he likes. Playing with and twirling them. Mark’s thrusts become slow but harder, hitting the back of your throat more painful, nothing you wouldn’t take unwillingly, though. He knows you can and will take anything he gives you.

That’s how you knew he was extremely close. When his thrusts were rough and slow, the grip on your hair became tighter when he pushed you further down, becoming extra sensitive to the way you handle his testicles. 

“Ah~ y/n… Please, just a bit more. Ahh…” He pants, stopping his thrusting momentarily until you pinch his scrotum, to which he whimpers loudly. Some sweat had accumulated on his neck and forehead. Glistening, he looked so beautiful, much more than he already is. Mark’s eyes were closed but he could feel your lingering gaze on him. He could feel the penetrating stare that looked at him with adoration.

When he couldn’t handle it furthermore and his thrusts against your throat were becoming sloppy, Mark’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at you, giving you one of his most tender smiles. You never got used to the way he looked at you. Even when he gave you his coldest glares, there was always a sense of adoration to them. 

So one can only imagine the warmth and giddiness you felt when he looked at you this lovingly. Lovingly enough that he removed one hand from your head and placed it on your cheek. Thumb caressing your flesh, soft strokes contradicting the ones abusing your throat.

“What I wouldn’t do to be like this with you forever.” The words contradictory and cheeky to his caring caress, almost conniving. 

Mark’s hips jolted forward, disgruntled moans left his lips but his eyes never left yours. Even after he screwed them shut momentarily from pleasure, he’d always open them to let you know how good he felt. Head thrown back, trying to regain his breath and calmness after the orgasm you had just given him. His hand strokes your head softly whilst you gaze up at him lovingly, your head resting on his thigh. 

“Morning,” your voice snaps him out of it, looking down at you with a smile. “Really good morning.” He chuckles in a breath, leaning down as much to give you a soft and tender kiss, tasting himself on you. Pulling apart, Mark stands up, helping you up from the aching position you were in. Rubbing your knees momentarily to soothe the pang. 

It didn’t take long enough to forget his care and make his path to the kitchen, you trailing behind like a lost puppy, ignoring your ache just to start the day for both of you. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” Your soft voice squeaked against his ear, making him turn to you slowly. A gleam of hope on your part as always.

“What is it?” You could see his emotions coursing through, already looking for excuses as always. “Just— can you pick up an order at Cafe 7 Dream? It’s for Venetia’s pregnancy leave party but I don’t have time to pick it up. Please? During your lunch break?”

Your eyes still glimmer with hope knowing well what his answer already is. “Oh… baby, you already know I can’t. I don’t even know where it is.” He ran a hand through his hair, walking past you after giving his famous apologetic pout. 

Back to him, hopeful smile faltering, slowly closing your eyes disappointed but not surprised knowing the predicted outcome. You sigh quietly, basking in the background noise he made. Opening and closing the fridge door and pans moving around the stove top as if he truly had intentions to do something.

“I guess, yeah… it’s fine I’ll figure it out then.” Defeatedly, you make your way to him, watching him play with the knobs as if he didn’t know how a damn stove works, you only interfered when he opened the egg crate. Rushing to him you took it all off his hands, his faux complaining making you roll your eyes, him oblivious to how it wasn’t playful anymore. “Go shower, you’ll be late.” Still, your voice held no annoyance. 

He chuckles, completely oblivious to your feelings as always. “Or we could shower together…” he suggests, not over the morning rendezvous. Wanting more and more, never satiated.  

You didn’t have it in you to smile at him, shaking your head and dismissing him as you crack the eggs over the pan. He giggles, towards the bathroom, placing a playful slap to your ass on his way.

The walls were thin. You could hear the sound of the toilet flushing, the water running, and your thoughts bouncing off of them. Torturing you with the words and feelings you try to repress all the time in order to live in peace and in love with him.

You loved him. More than anything, to the point it was extremely painful despite him being yours. You’ve fought hard trying to make your love for him unconditional, there was no backing out anytime.

Moments like these in which he shut down your pleas, all you could do was restrain yourself from the ill thoughts your tired brain tried to throw at him. You couldn’t let anything get in between the both of you, not even yourself. 

So instead you rather stand in front of the stove, moving the spatula around to make him his beloved sunny side up eggs. Funny enough, you hated them but if he wanted you to love them, you would.

Coming out of the bathroom, steam painting the mirrors and windows. Mark dries his hair with the towel sitting atop his shoulders, a sniffle leaves him, pulling the chair from the dining table, smiling at you with a ‘thank you’ rolling off his tongue while you set down his dishes and drink right in front of him. 

“You’re not eating?” He questions the moment you sat beside him with just a pouch of Konjac Jelly. You could only smile and shake your head, suckling on the nozzle to get out the contents. You weren’t eating then and there, you just didn’t want to tell him you were getting breakfast with your colleague on your way to work. 

Mark nodded before digging in on the yolk with his spoon, that expected smile on his face.

He talked and talked after every bite and chew. Mark was well aware of how much you liked to hear his voice, especially in the morning before he left you for work. Head resting on your palm as you watched him stack his plates, a smile plastered on your lips from his presence alone. 

“Want me to drop you off? You’re gonna have to hurry though.” The clanking of the bowls on the sink as he passed water over them knowing you’d wash them eventually; making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and finish getting dressed. 

Shaking your head as a response, he waits for your explanation. “I’m walking the entire week, don’t worry about me. Maybe I'll take the bus.”

How couldn’t he when both of your jobs were a tad bit far from home. It didn’t help that most of the time you got out late. At least he was thankful Jungwoo could drop you off whenever he wasn’t able to pick you up or simply didn’t feel like it.

“You know I don’t like it when you ride the bus, it’s always filled with… men at these hours. Take care, okay? Call me once you arrive or if something happens.”

Despite your smile of approval, what was he going to do when he can barely take care of himself?

Mark’s lips fell against yours the moment he opened the door to the apartment, towering over you for a few kisses before pulling away. “By the way, can you pick up my suit from the cleaners either later or tomorrow? I have a meeting at the end of the week.”

He was giddy asking you for a favor, clutching his backpack, ignoring the way you tried to not let your emotions show through your face. “Yeah… I’ll do it after work.” Your soft voice, trying its best to hide that tinge of bubbling vexation.

Mark smiled, a giggle leaving his throat whilst his hand caresses your cheek. “I’ll see you at night, baby.” You couldn’t answer, he had bolted towards the elevator. Only the daily bittersweet taste lingers once again.

Shutting the door behind you, your eyes immediately travel to the pile of dishes he left for you on the sink, not even allowing your sighs to escape by how familiar this scene has become. It was rather frustrating for Mark to not notice your obvious signs of unhappiness with him. He knew you loved him, perhaps more than he loved you, which he tends to ignore to not throw himself off.

But that love he thinks you have was blinding him from all the realities of how dysfunctional the relationship was. It was pitiful that his friends were the only ones to actually notice them.

“Markie, morning!” Johnny’s cheerful voice booms against his ear, hand softly patting the younger man’s shoulder as he signals to follow him and Jaehyun to the break room while handing him a cup of coffee. 

Mark returned the greeting to both of the men standing in front of him, conversing as if he didn’t see them almost daily. From joke after joke, Jaehyun’s phone beeped constantly, the other two ignoring it as he checked it with a giddy smile plastered on his face; Johnny asks if they’d like to get lunch during their break.

Mark immediately agreed to the offer, taking some of the last sips from his coffee. They spoke about restaurant options but upon Jaehyun not answering, rather typing, the blackberry keys louder than his coworkers, the two turned to ask again.

“Jaehyun, you’re down for lunch?” Johnny questions, making his way towards the trash can, depositing away his cup, the eyes on the ‘7’ icon turning to Mark. Jaehyun hums in response, putting his phone away before actually speaking. “Uh, maybe next time. I have something to do.” An apologetic smile, Johnny understanding but Mark lets out a teasing chuckle. 

“Lunch with a special friend?” 

“Actually, I’m helping your wife.”

He didn’t want to make it obvious but Jaehyun put enough emphasis on ‘your’. “She asked for a favor and I always say yes, so...” Jaehyun shrugs, sipping the last of his own coffee.

The air was shifting to hostility the more Mark’s expression began to change, slowly but surely. His eyes followed every move Jaehyun made, ignoring how all the 7’s glared at him, even his own. Johnny was no fool, if Jaehyun couldn’t feel the building hostility, Johnny was clearly feeling and seeing it. His eyes advert from both men as he watched how quickly a mood can be annihilated.

“Always? What do you mean, always?” Mark turns his back to the other two —almost to shield himself from the accusatory numbers—, throwing away his not empty cup and going to the sink to wash off the stickiness from the coffee that spilled on the sides.

The second oldest man mustered a shrug, taking a cup from the water cooler and pouring some in to get rid of that coffee taste on his tongue. Bitter coffee taste, the one lacing Mark. “I mean, I can’t say no to her… if she’s busy and can’t run an errand she asks me to run it for her and in return she bakes me a cheesecake. We all win!” Johnny smiles at Jaehyun at the mention of the desert and his unconvincing naivety.

Mark didn’t speak, his mouth forming an ‘O’ at the realization that the reason you always baked was not for you or your coworkers but for his friend. For doing something you had originally asked of him. Just in the past month you had baked six cheesecakes and all of them after you asked him for a favor that he turned down. All this time he thought you were just baking for pleasure but now he knows Jaehyun helps ease your stress. Jaehyun, not Mark.

“I’m gonna head back…” Johnny’s voice broke him out of his train of thought, the elder’s eyes adverting from his two younger friends before opening the door. Jaehyun announces that he’ll follow behind, leaving Mark to his own thoughts for just a second.

One could call that the start of his demise. If anything Mark would’ve been better off knowing you did everything on your own but now he felt an unjust slight resentment that you ran to one of his friends. Guilt, if you will, for his own faults.

He didn’t let the thought go the entire day and it didn’t become better once you had arrived back home with groceries and his suit in hand. Worse off, he saw you struggle with the heavy items but he made no effort to help, rather analyzed the components in your hands. Contrary to you, upon seeing him, a warm smile spreads on your face. Putting everything down and going up to him to envelope him in an embrace and a tender kiss.

“Hi…” your breathy voice showing obvious signs of agitation. 

“Hey… why are you so late?” He questions, accusatory for something he’s not sure what he’s looking for yet; a minute frown as he looks through the contents of your grocery totes. Cream cheese, graham cracker, sweet condensed milk… a pit in his stomach formed, a growing feeling of confusion followed.

“Another cheesecake?” He questions, taking out the items and starting to put them away. To say you were taken aback was an understatement, your chest swole and you felt some relief seeing he was actually helping. You nod, holding onto the back of a chair to catch yourself. Mark hums, turning to look at you. Upon seeing how sunken and dull you were looking, his expression turned to one of concern.

“Have you eaten?” Mark asks, his hand reaching to caress your cheek. “Yeah! We had a dinner party for Venetia’s leave.” ‘I told you about it..’ you want to add. No matter, you knew it was futile with how he hums in response. It was true about the dinner part but you hadn’t eaten there, Jungwoo and you had decided to blow it off and go to a soup bowl restaurant instead.

He hums again, putting away all the other groceries and leaving just the cheesecake items. “Seventh cheesecake this month isn’t it?” 

His piqued interest sounded hostile and cold, eradicating any sense of relief that he cared. “Yeah, why not?” Responding with a smile and knitted eyebrows, Mark didn’t add more. In turn, he took his items from the living room to the bedroom, opting to continue working there. 

Looking at the empty spot he left, a sigh left your lips before continuing to fulfill your part of the deal with Jaehyun. You didn’t know if the sigh was from relief or grief. Regardless, his care was too good to be true. 

The next morning he had woken to your spot on the bed empty and cold, a building resentment and loneliness starts to grow when times before he didn’t feel them. Odd. 

Giving himself a few minutes of rest time until he decided to get up and do his daily routine. By the time he had reached the table, his breakfast was covered to keep the warmth in, glowering when he noticed it was slightly warm but getting cold. A note on the side of his dishes. 

‘Decided to head early. Sorry in advance if the food gets cold. Love, y/n’

A small heart next to your name, Mark smiles to himself. As he ate his breakfast, his concerns and the slight jealousy he had gained overnight dissipated. He felt foolish for questioning your relationship with Jaehyun. What was there for him to be jealous of? Hell, Jaehyun was taking care of the burdens he didn’t want to, that’s a win-win situation, no? Jaehyun gets his treat, you remain content, and he isn’t bothered. Yeah, he can now think clearly and see that’s fair. Nothing ever comes out of your close friend being nice and considerate of your wife, right? 

Hmm…

Nevertheless, Mark shakes his head with a goofy content smile whilst he drops his dishes in the sink, passing cold water over them. You picked up his suit yesterday and today it was hanging, freshly steamed furthermore. His shoes clean and shiny by the door, food you cooked for him in his system, and overall a lovely note you wrote him. Mark knows you love him and only him, what a stupid little preoccupation yesterday was.

“Dumbass.” He chuckles to himself, squeezing a plushie he had gotten you that ever since, you left on the bed, your smell on it; you’d always be near him and oh how he loved that security. Surely he has to let you know how he adores your love.

Walking towards your desk to look for whatever piece of paper, he sat on your chair, opening the drawers and searching for at least a sticky note.

Upon finding the nearest notebook, Mark pulled it out along a pen. Opening it to where he could find a clean page; he stumbled on multiple pages of frantic writing and numbers written all over. Sometimes they went down and sometimes they went up, if the number was higher than last, a large ‘x’ crossed it in red. He didn’t think much of it, maybe something to do with work statistics?

Curiosity still got the best of him, he’s never seen you write messily. Everything you’ve written has been tidy and neat, so this was interesting. Flipping through the pages, he found two lists. They read the same thing but the one on the left had more x’s whilst the one on the right had check marks, sometimes nothing.

Pick up cleaners,

fix the leak in the kitchen

pick up order from cafe 7 dream

find a new car inspection place

pick up Venetia’s leave cake

Those were all things you had asked him to do and things he had told you he couldn’t do on account of all the excuses he made. All striked through, ink bolder and fresher the more recent the task was. All those crosses were for him and he figured all the check marks were for Jaehyun.

Some of the stuff seemed too intimate for Jaehyun to do for you. Picking up the cleaners? Fix the leak? Find a car inspector?

Jaehyun had no responsibility to find any of this stuff for you but there he was doing what Mark couldn’t and that jealousy he felt yesterday was back again. That meant you hadn’t picked up his suit yesterday, right? It was Jaehyun who had done so and his grubby hands must’ve left oils for you to steam it again?

God, no… he was being irrational again!

The more he flipped through the pages, Mark read the small and longer paragraphs. Most of them written frantically and showed obvious frustration. It seemed to be completely full of vent paragraphs. You wrote down your desperations and thoughts, often seeming angry and saddened. He cared for all that but they became unreadable the more upset you became as you went on. 

Few things that made his head pound and chest start to rip apart were how many times he read two names over and over: ‘Jungwoo’ and ‘Jaehyun’. You met them through him, he had brought them into your life but now he was finding that to be a mistake. 

Ironic, isn’t it? You spoke so well of them. Every paragraph regarding them was neatly written and cohesive. For the most part you were just thanking them for making your life easier.

‘Keep forgetting to look for new posts, Jungwoo has been helping but he seems kinda down when he does.’

‘Dinner coordinator keeps bringing the same catering and it’s growing tiring, seaweed treats are hell. Thank god Jungwoo took me out instead. — 03.29.08, 22:37.’

Last night’s date. You had told him you ate at the company dinner but instead went out with his friend and didn’t think to tell him, opting to lie about it. He knew you loved him but now he was questioning if the amount was just as big as he thought.

‘Wonder if Jaehyun is getting tired of these favors and cheesecakes. I don’t think he even finishes an entire one in a month and I’ve baked seven for him, I fear for his fridge. It’s not as big as I thought now that he moved. Nevertheless, thank god I can count on him to actually do these favors for me.’ 

The last part stung horribly. It didn’t seem to be a jab on him from how you wrote it but he took it as such given he always did something wrong when you asked him to just so you would stop or he’d make excuses for the same reason. He now took issue with you preferring Jaehyun’s and Jungwoo’s help over his. 

He also hadn’t told you Jaehyun moved apartments so there was no reason for you to know how big his fridge was. It stung more that neither of his friends told him about the close friendship they held with you, his wife. 

The last note on the paper is what caught his attention; ‘Lunch with Jungwoo at Cafe 7 Dream, 12:30 today.’

It’s only 08:35 in the morning as of right now; he got dressed and put away all your stuff trying his best to make it seem like he didn’t rummage through. As he buttoned up his shirt all he could think about was going to said cafe and seeing what it was all about. A part of him told him to stop being stupid, you and Jungwoo were friends too given the company you two work in, so a lunch shouldn’t be bad. But he couldn’t shake off this uncertainty.

His day went monotonously. From the moment he made his way out of the apartment, to his daily drive through the freeway with a clear view of a big ‘7,' not drinking his daily coffee with his colleagues, to now being back in the car, looking at that same ‘7’ he sees daily while he roams for a parking spot.

Whatever was playing on the radio was static and the air around him stuffy, not even the rolled down windows being able to aid him. It was around 12:53 in the afternoon when he had arrived and parked a few spots away from the vast window of the cafe. Bringing down the sun visor, fingers strumming on the steering wheel, and his lips pursed, eyes roaming the area— Mark had spotted you and his friend in the outdoor section. 

His initial jealousy wasn’t present right now, he was mostly focused on the image that had never been presented to him: you were visibly upset. Throughout your six years of being together, you always remained calm and even when he spewed vile things towards you during one-sided arguments you never cracked.

Maybe that’s why you’ve lasted this long. He could say whatever he pleased and kept off his chest while you never gave him a negative reaction. For the most part whenever you didn’t respond in the arguments he’d angrily walk out of the situation to go meet with his friends while he left you to scribble your feelings onto the journal he stumbled upon just today.

Your arms flailed, hands forming into claws that whenever you were spewing something that angered you, clung to your flesh, leaving dents on it— must have been that intense if he could see those forming. Your hair was disheveled but your clothes intact besides the pantyhose you were clawing at earlier. You didn’t look dull anymore but you did look on the brink of angry tears.

In contrast to you, Jungwoo leaned back on his metal chair, hair kept well combed, suit intact and ironed, with a shit eating grin on his face as he nodded with everything you said. His words were slow, helping Mark in reading his lips and only being able to read just that sentence: “Let it all out, you don’t deserve this.” Every time he said those words, you’d slump over the table, head resting on your hands and nodding to yourself.

The perplexed expression on Mark’s face never left. His eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, leaning in against his wheel as if any of that would help him listen to the conversation. It worsened when Jungwoo took a small box from his pocket, handing it to you in which you’d give him an apologetic smile for ranting to him while also being thankful.

He didn't understand where all this came from. You have always been so calm, never letting things affect you let alone smoke. Hell, you're the reason he stopped smoking but here you were doing what he used to do with his friend.

At this moment he didn’t understand why he had rushedly gotten out of his car and inside the building. All the courage he mustered to go inside dying whenever he saw the both of you stand up from the table after paying.

His heart was palpitating in horror. He couldn’t excuse why he was there this time, he told you he didn’t know where this place was so it would only worsen your already horrible mood. Not to mention, he had nothing to say. How would he start the conversation? “I know I’ve lied to you about this place but what the fuck is your deal with Jungwoo and Jaehyun? What’s your journal all about?” No, he can’t let you know he’s been snooping, let alone have you think he’s jealous.

Mark could only follow behind a group of people walking to the counter, hiding amongst them and hoping you stayed enthralled in your conversation to not notice him. At least he was thankful he could finally hear the conversation but that dissipated the moment he heard Jungwoo’s voice.

“If you keep pushing away and shutting off your frustrations with him this won’t end well. You can’t just conform to keep him with you and let him do all he’s doing. You can’t let him act the way he does and hope he changes without asking. You know what my grandma would say? If you don’t speak, God won’t hear you. And he’s not hearing you. Are you not miserable in the relationship?”

It stung. It painfully stung deeply in his heart that he truly felt he was having a heart attack right now, cardiac arrest— whichever. It sounded oddly familiar.

“Mark says, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.’ So which is it?” Jungwoo laughs, shrugging. “Seems God can’t make up his mind or he's fucking with us just because he can.”

Sadly for the both of you this was only the start of your demise. As for the following weeks, Mark had begun to dig deeper into this madness he was slowly learning he had created. Every time he was home alone, Mark began to read the notebook he had found. Your writing didn’t become any less incomprehensible but he was starting to learn what certain loops meant.

He wouldn’t say your writings were enjoyable, rather more concerning than anything but this is the closest he’ll get to truly knowing you. It still baffles him that after six years of being together, you were capable of hiding this much from him. The only time he could recall you actually being mad was the time both of you crossed paths with one of his childhood friends.

The atmosphere turned hostile and tense as the older male reprimanded him for not inviting them to his wedding to which Mark said he did, he even gave his mother the invitation directly to give to them. The look the two shared had made your insides churn, in that instance you wanted to cut your own chest to relieve that sting within.

You could handle a lingering look and his friends' questioning remarks whenever speaking to you, but what killed you was that it took him a week to regain his dignity after he bid him goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The words: “They long to see you.” Cascading from his lips, but Mark smiles tenderly and awkwardly.

Mark only recalls you giving him blank stares and taking a while to answer him, conversations non-existent unless he started them. But Jungwoo got to see you tear your desk down, shred paper after paper, and cry in agony at the same time that entire week, knowing well what the older man had meant, you weren’t stupid after all, he’s not the only one who’s read someone’s secret stash of letters. 

That’s the only time he thinks you’ve been mad at him or resentful enough. If only he knew how many fits Jungwoo has experienced and cleaned. But while you might not be foreign to an empty bed, Mark was. When he felt your side of the bed still neatly made and the duvet cold, a sense of fear made him shoot up. 

He had gotten home before you that day once again, trusting that Jungwoo was giving you a ride not long after he arrived like always. After a few hours of working on some data and analysis to the point of not being able to eat the dinner you had woken up early to cook for him. Mark had decided to rest for a while not thinking of taking a nap until his eyelids feel heavy and his slumber commenced.

That was around 6:43pm, now it’s midnight with no signs of you in the bedroom and if he knew anything from those six months of living with a married couple— one of the spouses was up to something.

That’s where his fear rose and his chest started to constrain his breathing. You would never do anything to hurt him, right? Mark knew you loved him. Yes, you love him, you’d never do anything of the style. You're not her.

You're not her...

Opening the bedroom door with such force; he startled you, jumping once the doorknob slammed against the wall. His fears dissipated the instance his eyes laid on your sitting figure. Crouched over your desk with a pen on hand and arm covering the pages of that same notebook. While he was relieved to see you, now he was worried of what else you could add to wreck his nerves.

“When did you get home?” His raspy voice questions. You shrug, taking his presence, closing the notebook and shoving it into one of your desk drawers. 

“Maybe an hour ago? Jungwoo got quite drunk so Jaehyun took a while to pick us up.” 

Mark knew what jealousy felt like, he’s experienced it in the most hateful way and over all these years he trusted you enough to never feel this strongly ever again but his friends were starting to test his patience. It may be subconscious and a self inflicted fear but Mark knows what friends can do. 

“You didn’t say you were going out with Jungwoo.” That pitch of irritation laced his tongue, every word getting louder the more he shook his slumber away. His eyebrows furrowed unconsciously. He really didn’t want to have any reaction but he can’t reap what he sows.

Mark always started like this when an argument would ensue. You could handle his vile words and reproaches but you had a presentation tomorrow and the last thing you needed was for him to treat you like shit at midnight. You’ve had enough of your supervisor for that. 

“Company dinner meeting, Mark… I told you about the presentations.” Your voice was betraying you with how whiny it came out. But could anyone blame you? You had been ecstatically talking about this for almost a month, even Johnny knew about it. It just seems the man you married couldn’t be bothered enough to remember. 

Mark tried his hardest to pick at his brain and recollect the memories of you telling him. It was of no help that you hadn’t written about it in your journal either. All he had left was to deflect. 

“You could’ve called me to pick you up, though? Why did you have to call Jaehyun?” 

“Would you have gone? You've been sound asleep the while I've been here.”

Your tone took him aback, this was the first time he could hear some attitude and mocking in your voice. He didn’t know whether to be happy that for once you spoke to him like this or angry that the mention of Jaehyun was eliciting this response, almost as if you’re defending him.

Noticing the look of confusion on his face, you retracted any possibility of continuing this ensuing argument. Just like him, you’ll avoid any further action.

“Go back to bed, love. I’ll be there in a bit.”

He didn’t listen, just sunk his feet deeper into the tile, processing the whiplash of your actions. On the contrary, you walked past him to the bathroom, forgetting to turn off the stereo system, hoping your nightly ritual would help you not think about these happenings. Him? He’ll sulk like he is not at fault.

‘Oh, I think you’re holding the heart of mine. Squeeze it apart, that's fine…’ The melody mocks and lulls him goodnight. 

A similar situation happened days later. The days building up to that night, you hadn’t asked him for any favors. Times before he’d be glad but now he grew weary. The only outlier was that you weren’t baking, so had the rewards gone further than sweet treats? How far could you go?

No! Stop! Mark knows you’d never do anything like that, you’re not her, that’s a huge reason he fell for and married you. You ar– were perfect.

But then, why haven’t you asked anything of him yet? Was it truly futile now?

Deja vu hit, the bed was cold beside his own spot, your plushie thrown to the floor (the only difference), no sign of you, but the second he swung the door open, there you were. Sitting mindlessly on your desk, scribbling things he couldn’t see but knew he would struggle to understand later. He approached slowly, the only light source the lamp before you.

“What are you doing?” His voice is curious and soft in comparison to last time. You shrug like before, scribbling. “Nothing.” Precise yet somehow cold. No matter how much closer he got, by only a step, you shut the journal, throwing it in your drawer and turning the lamp off. He didn’t know how to take it, your actions swift and nonchalant but regardless you still made the effort to kiss him goodnight on the way to complete your night routine. 

01:48 read the stereo system. Mark hums, this night’s song mocking him again while his eyes look into the darkness and curves of your desk, directly at the drawer that held all your grievances. He contemplates it but it’s no use tonight.

‘I love him so much, it just turns to hate. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake. And someday you will ache like I ache.’ He chuckles, turning it off.

The next day was enough. You had left before him again, no reason as to why either but later he had learnt that Jaehyun had gotten into the office late with a Cafe 7 Dream drink in hand and not bought by Johnny.

He had taken your absence as an opportunity, looking at the positioning of things in your desk carefully to remember how he’d put everything back. Slowly but surely, he took the journal out, opening it to the new pages.

With the journal in hand, he steps into the kitchen, sitting on the dining table where his warm food rested. Warm enough to let him know you left not long ago. Effortlessly, he uncovers it, sliding the plates towards him and standing up to get a drink. The ice-cold water pitcher sat in front of him and he began his tasks.

‘Guilt floods me every time I ask Jaehyun and Jungwoo for favors. Is this excessive? Poor Jaehyun looks so tired, I think I have to ease it. He may claim it’s fine but how much cheesecake or danishes can someone eat without feeling the weight of burden grow as fat around his muscles?’ “What a way with words,” Mark scoffs to himself, accidentally biting the inside of his cheek, his teeth scolding him.

‘Jungwoo on the other hand is probably exhausted from my complaining. I see this as my karma for all the times I told friends to leave their bummy boyfriends. I get it now. This feeling is too strong. I can't just end it, I think… Regardless, I do need to stop with the favors, hell they’re easy so I can do them but it’s nice to not hear them complain or make excuses instantly. That’s selfish of me but I deserve some self indulgence from time to time. No… not at their expense at least...‘

00:59 at the time you began writing that.

He didn’t like that. He’s read enough for the past few weeks but nothing like this. The bummy part even less.

He won’t deny that he wished your food got stuck in his throat and suffocated him so he can drop dead with your journal in hand and true guilt arises in you when you find his body but that’s not him, that’s his jealousy and anger speaking. Maybe he was getting influenced by your entries, this is something you would say just not to him.

Mark scoffs again, sighing heavily, and pushing his chair to get out. He leaves the food uncovered and dishes dirty to complete his morning routine. Despite his anger he puts back your journal not counting on the wet back from the water pitcher but flaws are meant to happen when you’re letting frustration blind you. 

The day went in a blur from then until lunch. Snapped out of his trance by Johnny shaking his shoulder and their manager next to the taller man, Mark gave the two a fish out of the water look. One that made his manager pinch the bridge of his nose but shook it off while Johnny on the other hand gave him a questioning look. The man wasn’t stupid, he could see how distant Mark had been and at most kept to himself despite trying to act like everything is fine and bond with him and Jaehyun, but he’s not that great at covering the heart on his sleeve.

“Here, take the intern with you and ask for the lunch platter at Cafe 7 Dream, the meeting is in less than an hour and we still aren’t prepared.” The manager rushedly spoke, handing him his credit card, the gray hairs on his side seemingly growing with every word he spoke. It was a large investment meeting and he needed to secure this but he had been so careless that their hospitality was a wreck. 

Nevertheless, Mark agreed, the new intern standing behind the other two men that he hadn’t noticed her until she popped out, startling him a bit. She was young and timid, he hadn’t heard her speak but that little jump she caused him made her laugh apologetically. 

That’s the most verbal communication they had through the ride to the cafe. The radio was adamant on playing TVXQ and she enjoyed it while he focused more on the sounds the tires made and the honking from outside. Even when they arrived at the cafe they didn’t speak, if anything their expression said it all. He seemed tired and uninterested while she was indifferent with only polite smiles to her senior.

Crossing the threshold of the first doors, a familiar figure stops in front of him much to the other’s confusion when his indifference turns into a content smile. No matter how frustrated he was with what he had read, an inkling in him will always remind him of the affection he has for you. “Y/n, hi!” He exclaims, turning to you a hand reaching for your shoulder. You’re not too sure how genuine his giddiness is but in the moment for Mark, it’s the most sincere thing ever, more than you have ever been.

It’s not enough to convince you though, with your eyes flitting between him and the intern as he kisses your cheek and the other stands awkwardly behind only flashing you a quick greeting smile before looking around.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice broke the interactions, a hint of annoyance and to an extent accusatory over something that you haven’t voiced, turning to her again before looking back at him. The young girl wasn’t quite sure of how you felt but knew it was a safer bet to go order before their boss called, clenching his ass from how fast time went and he didn’t have things ready.

Clearing her throat, “I’m going to go order… The card?” She extends both hands, Mark takes out their manager’s card and hands it to her who bolts to the register. It doesn’t take Mark long to turn to you, smile slowly faltering, seeing your stare. Unsure if it’s a glare or if that’s how you look at someone when no longer adoring.

“Manager sent us to get something for a meeting.” He brings his smile back, hoping that would help. Yet, you hum and that’s all he gets. It takes a few seconds until your mouth, like a fountain, unexpectedly spouts something. “I’ve asked you to get things for me from here but you always say you don’t know where this place is.” A soft huff leaves you while forcing a smile. You can feel warmth rush from your skull down to your feet. It’s not pleasant, at all, but you can’t lose your cool right now. Not in front of him.

Perhaps if this had happened before reading your entries, Mark would have dismissed it but now he was growing knowledge of your behavioral cues and he can see your hands go behind your back, allowing your nails to cling onto your bare skin.

He musters a sigh and looks at his watch, the meeting was near. “We can talk about this later, pretty girl.” His hand reaches your arm to stop you although he makes sure to not let you know he knows about your little habit.

You shake your head, smiling up at him and going in for a kiss. “No, it’s cool, it’s fine. I just– don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later at home, okay? Okay.” You didn’t wait for a response and habits don’t die so he found it preferable to drop it. At least he’ll probably read about it in your journal soon and not have you complain in his ear.

Of course you’re not going to be in his ear when you’re on your phone frantically typing something and soon putting it to your own. Seems you’ll be blowing someone else’s ear off and it’s likely the poor loser will be Jungwoo. With every motion, flailing arm, and facial contortion– Mark knew enough of how this little thing made you feel and all he could react with was a grunt.

On weekends, by the time he began to rustle in bed and stretch, he’d be greeted with kisses and tight embraces. They often made him giggle but this weekend was much different. Once again, he woke up with the plush on the floor, a cold bed, and the window closed with only the racket outside the bedroom door. Everything was muffled but if there’s something he identified was the smell of food being made and those two laughs he’s known very well for quite a while now.

With some surprise, he jolts up. His body aches from the lack of stretching but his feet don’t care and drag him out of bed. Opening the door he’s met with Jungwoo and Jaehyun bickering about how heavy the couch was, soon to shift their attention to the movie that had been playing through broadcast TV. On the other hand he turned to look at you taking out things from a cabinet, Jungwoo rushing to help, a screwdriver in hand as he inspected the door– it creaked.

“Morning…” He greets, stretching a bit and hiding his yawn behind his arm. You make way towards him but the other two were quicker, taking his hand and continuing their greeting-shake. By the time you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, your arms around his torso in a hug like they should’ve been when he woke up. Jaehyun and Jungwoo throw each other a glance, one you both miss but that they mask with their teasing towards Mark.

“Morning? It’s nearly two.” Jaehyun begins, “Can you blame him? What does he have to do on a lovely Saturday?” Jungwoo continued but it came out rather bitter despite trying to be playful. Mark manages to laugh just like the rest of you, it doesn’t change the warning look you throw at Jungwoo who ignores it while removing the cabinet door, showing more chipped parts to it.

“Can you help me find something, then?” Mark dismisses the other two, looking directly down at you. Without hesitating you nod, walking to the room with him, your grasp on his torso not falling, rewarded with a tender smile of his. Unbeknownst to you two, the other pair give each other a glance again, although this time it lingers on each other. Disappointment and exhaustion painting itself on their features before going back to the favors.

The wooden door shut behind you two, Mark makes way to the restroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, leaving you situated on the bed and confused. “What are we looking for?” You question with some excitement as if this was a task you truly wanted when making him happy was enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?” He finally speaks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hair strands damp. “They’re just fixing some stuff.” You ease softly, smiling up at him as he stares at you. 

His hand perched on your shoulders, pushing you down on the mattress and met with a surprised squeaking giggle that he shut immediately with a kiss. Those same hands wrapped around your body pulling you flush against him as his tongue works against your own.

Lips became slick by the moment but he felt so much pour into that kiss. So much longing and desire. A mixture of lust and guilt and that balance may be why he felt the need to keep you here in this room with him and not out there with those vultures.

Possession is the word he’s looking for.

His hands began a journey down your body, feeling every curve until they rested on your hips. Inching closer to the hem of your shorts, teasing their entrance under. It was enough for you to gasp quietly, feeling his cold damp fingers while he kissed you, smiling into it. He swallowed every word and protest before you could even spew them. 

Your own hands on his hair, lips submissive to his. A moan when you feel his digits fully in between your legs. You shake your head but not in protest but rather of how much you needed his touch. “Say something…” He whispers against your lips, no smile on his face. “Please…” You beg, his fingers making slow circles to not hurt you but enough to get you to lubricate and use that instead.

The scene was greedy and lustful but ultimately, he was reminded of those two out there and the reason as to why they were present lingered. Was the couch and cabinet door that important that you had to call the little crew? No matter how displayed you are for him, with your hands holding onto him, lips kissing his own, and legs open for his own disposition– Mark was still aggravated.

Softly he pulled away from you, caressing your face with his free hand while his fingers went to work. “Why didn’t you ask me to help instead of them?” He tries to seem soft spoken like his caresses but those become rougher the more he speaks. “Would you have done it?” There he knew how much little faith you had on him and the scene from a while back repeats.

“I’d go to the end of the world for you, Y/n.” Mark confesses into the kiss, neither of you too sure how truthful that was. His fingers make their entrance into you, slowly moving to elicit a response. Your body ran hot, his clothed figure above you, silently begging for you to at least believe a fraction of what he said. Those pleading and mopping eyes as he pumped his ring and middle finger, increasing the pace.

You believe me like a God,

‘You’re being so cruel.’ You want to tell him, to engrave it in his brain but it instead came out as a pleased disgruntled moan, one he took as accepting his lies. Mark smiles, head tilting to the side before lowering it to begin kissing your chest. Tongue lapping on the dents your collarbones create, whispering his ailments in them to the point of flooding and creating lakes that flowed down to your perked nipples after unbuttoning your blouse. His tongue, scorching and velvet against them. Granted was a jolt and a gasp when you felt his mouth wrap around one, biting softly to soon suction on the tit.

I’ll destroy you like I am.

Teeth grace your goosebump filled skin, kissing where his teeth left razor marks. Threatening crimson to spill only to be a false alarm, lingering pain and pleasure was all that was intended to reside. His fingers slowed the pace, blunt thrusts per second that left an ache between your legs when his palm came in contact with your outer skin, but oh how good it felt when his fingers hit your sweet spot. It doesn’t help that by this point he had inserted a third finger, the stretch causing so much more need within you.

His mouth travels up the path he created after years of savoring your body. Tongue feeding the dried stream, cool when its source disappeared to carve marks on your neck. It was so juvenile but he wanted you to go out of that room with some swelling for those two to see. Eliciting another moan from you, Mark’s free hand softly comes up to your mouth, covering and sealing it with shushes against your ear.

“Do you want them to know what we’re doing?” He whispers in the same location, you shake your head fervently, feeling hazy and growing even more needy. “Good girl.” He grins, removing his hand to hold your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. His teeth gracing your lower lip, softly nipping it to soon ease the pain he’s caused with his tongue– as he always does.

His fingers kept working their magic between your legs despite the constriction of your shorts, his wedding band no longer feeling cold inside of you but the fact that he didn’t think about removing it made you feel more aroused. To feel that metal piece unite you besides legality but through flesh and body.

Mark must have felt your growing arousal, especially with how much easier it was to ease his fingers within you. The clamping of your walls, more of a clue. In this instance he wanted to be cruel, and he attempted so. His hand stopped moving, rapidly getting out of your shorts and causing a desperate groan to leave your lips, legs quivering from the abrupt halt.

Just as he was going to cause a drought to the land of your skin and mouth, your hands took a hold of his body. Wrapping around his shoulders to hold him near, causing him to stumble slightly but not to topple over you; able to hold himself up. He won’t deny that knocked the wind out of him to a degree, feeling like in any instant he could have crushed you but pride and satisfaction soon filled him.

“Please, Mark… let’s finish at least.” You beg, your voice drunk off of his touch and whiny from how long it had been since you received anything from him. “Yeah? You want that?” He questions, making fun of you with that smug grin on his face, remaining features feigning compassion. He smiles at your desperate nod, mimicking the motion when he laughs quietly, kissing you again. 

Swallowing every single one of your silent moans that he told you to keep quiet to not let those two outside know what he was doing to you. Thing is, he did want them to know, he wanted them to see how fucked you will look once he is done with you. He wants them to see how your legs spasm when trying to walk and see how marked and irritated your neck is. He’s simply making fun of you right now and you’re falling for it because you will be anything he wants. Even a fool.

His hand slowly slides off your shorts and panties, caressing your warm legs in the process. His once calloused fingers from his creative days that he left behind now soft and tender. You held his face in between your own hands, making sure he never kept too much distance between your lips, that fresh taste of mint still lingers on his tongue.

“But do you deserve it?” Mark immediately stops his caressing and kissing, the words echoing in the cavern of your mouth, you swallow them. His gaze is cold but curious, scanning your own for a response, a witty one.

In this instance he tries to remove his touch from you, your grip on him despite how his knee teases its clothed friction against your exposed and destitute clit. He had been denying you an orgasm for the past fifteen minutes, depriving the other two from knowing what was going on but Mark didn’t care, he was luxuriating in this.

“You’re being so cruel.” You finally say the words that had been covering the walls of your brain and heart. Needy yet angry tears prickling the corner of your closed eyes. It wasn’t just lust but the fact that he was playing dirty when you’re so vulnerable and in dire need of getting something from him. For once.

“You think so?” His knee stops, eyebrow quirking, shit-eating grin falling. You nod, a pout forming, making things worse. ‘Did you really have to cry now?’ He asks himself, huffing as he shakes his head, pulling down his sleeping shorts.

“You jump to conclusions so quickly, it's always such a shame.” He doesn’t dare look directly at your face as he speaks this, knowing that the constraint and squeeze of your heart was showing. No, instead you’re met with the warm feeling of his spit falling off his tongue onto your cunt, some on the tip of his cock.

To be given something forced you to shut your eyes, a moan of relief enclosed within the four walls of the bedroom you shared with him. It became louder when you felt the intrusion of his dick within your walls, his mouth covering yours to drown those sounds. He likes to cherish these sounds for his own entertainment.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust to him, the girth feeling foreign despite how familiar you are with every inch and crevice of his body. Slowly, he picks up the pace, raising your leg to prop it beside him. “See how things turn out when you’re patient?” He asks, searching for your eyes but they’re shut.

The most he gains are pleasured moans in the crook of his neck. Mark can’t figure out how satisfied he is with that answer, so his hand opts to slap the inside of thigh, causing you to whine but reward it with kisses to his neck.

To be fair you didn’t think this could last long. Not when you abstain from self gratification, knowing that only he can bring you to an orgasm and given it’s been a while since you two slept together, an orgasm was long overdue. The friction of his pelvis on your clit while he thrusted was not helping. Just feeling that extra sense of overstimulation while his shaft filled every nook and cranny of your cunt, feeling his length bulge in your stomach.

Holding your body to his, your face buried in his neck begging him to please let you come. The hand beneath you pushing you flush against his own body. If it wasn’t for his shirt as of now, he’d be more vocal with how well you’re both feeling his cock go in and out of you. For now he’s relying on his sweet words, worshiping how well you’re taking him.

Specifically: “Feel how perfectly you were meant for me, pretty girl?” He grabs your hand holding his shoulder, pressing it against your stomach and for some reason that makes you feel like you could come any second now, begging him silently to let you. To please grant you this one thing.

“Fuck, Mark… just give me this, please…” You cry out, eyes screwed shut, lashes wet from pained and pleasured tears. You felt it in your core, you felt how bad your body clamored for some release.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks, his own words struggling to come out unlike the pre-come lining your walls. “As much as you.” You claim, fingernails clinging to his skin, a shallow groan leaving him. He likes to know how much you need him and if you were going to the lengths of hurting him to leave your message, so be it.

With every thrust, your nails dig deeper into his shoulder blades, sliding down his back. Whether he was picking up masochism or basked in the pleasure of the sadism he inflicted, Mark felt it. He felt how he gave out before you. Spurts of come followed with desperate deep moans that you swallowed in dire need of your own release.

But he was cruel. Very fucking cruel that the second that he stopped spasming and decorating your walls, his actions halt. For a few seconds he holds his position, head on your chest trying to relax his body full of adrenaline. If he was to look at you, he knew your face would beg him for your own release.

After a minute or two he pulls away slowly, taking his shirt off and reaching for the wipes inside his night stand. He warms them with his breath, moving them around to disperse the heat, only to lay them flat between your legs to clean off anything that fell out (although not much), propping your legs up and laying some pillows behind your back so you could rest for now.

Tongue poking his cheek before sighing and turning his back to you. “That’s cruel.” He didn’t say anything furthermore, his voice harsh and cold. Locking the bathroom door behind him and leaving you sprawled on the bed, arousal immediately terminated and the only feeling was of regret for saying what you did and letting things go this far. You couldn’t cry either, the other two would probably cut you off this time for good. So you’ll deny your body from letting out its emotions again. Afterall, Mark has made you be so resilient in that aspect.

Jungwoo’s and Jaehyun’s tasks were complete by the time Mark had gotten out of the shower, lunch too. The entire time underwater he spent it beating himself for the decisions he’s made to let things go this way. A month ago he was content thinking his wife loved him despite his flaws but Jaehyun’s big mouth made him unravel slowly that he was doing more harm than building an eternal home. Mark was resentful, he’s not going to deny that. He hated how quickly theatrics and how easy things he saw as fine can fall.

It stung more that you were laughing uncontrollably with the other two, seemingly neither had anything to mention of the marks on your neck or the completely different outfit you have in comparison to the shorts and blouse from earlier. Hell, Jaehyun is sitting in his chair rubbing salt on the wound and you are not saying anything upon noticing Mark; it sucked the life out of him. A slug in a bath of salt.

“Sit, I’ll fix your plate.” You smile at him as if nothing had happened in the four walls of the bedroom, your conformity noticeable. By this point he had taken the cold seat he was unfamiliar with. Sitting across from you was not something he was accustomed to, not in his own home at least, but here he was, watching two men who actually do drop everything for you. Two men that were his friends first, cracking jokes just to make you smile and laugh at which you did, enough to hunch over, something you haven't done with him in a while. 

Mark had blocked out the conversation completely, watching your moves and theirs. Your facial expressions and where your hands landed from time to time. That deafness fell when you placed the plate before him. The presentation made it obvious that others had gotten to your food before him. The mixture of ingredients painting the canvas of his plate faster than prior times when he was the first to cut through the masterpiece of your dishes. This time it was tampered and by the looks of Jaehyun’s still neatly moved around plate, he was the one to break through first.

Throughout lunch Mark tried his best to not speak, only replying when spoken to or agreeing in some sense. Things got worse when your cell phone kept buzzing and buzzing uncontrollably on the kitchen counter that made the other two give each other a glance, this time, not gone unnoticed by him and piquing his interest further.

The incessant buzzing continues, enough that Jungwoo sighs before lolling his head to give you a weird look. “Is it that dick?”  

‘Oh?’ Mark thinks to himself, an eyebrow raising as he begins to chew slower. Your glare towards Jungwoo to hush him is futile when Jaehyun joins. “Haven’t you told him to stop bothering you after work?” He sounded angry, the type of rage Mark should have, not Jaehyun. In his mind: Jealousy and that made his feelings worse.

How selfish.

“What dick? What are you guys on about?” Mark was so annoyed and frustrated at this point that venom laced every single one of his words, spraying it as he flayed his hands. Your silence made it worse, more painful was that you did so while Jaehyun and Jungwoo took it upon themselves to explain. The two, immensely tired of you not saying anything, of not speaking up.

Jungwoo goes first, he knows, they work together for Christ’s sake. “What’s his name? Ah, whatever… Y/n’s floor colleague has been bothering her for a while, you should know.” He frustratedly shakes his head, fork digging into his plate without noticing the look Mark throws at you. “Yeah…” He mutters, eyes never leaving you, all knowing he’s lying and upset.

“You should really report him, Y/n-ie.” Jaehyun breaks through, forcing Mark’s neck to snap and look at him. He was just making things worse because all Mark could feel was his lunch rapidly collecting in his throat. Cutlery dropping from his hands.

‘Y/n-ie’?! What an insolent fuck! That’s what Mark thought of Jaehyun. How dare he use a diminutive for you? Who the fuck did he think he was? Not even he, Mark, your husband called you that. What a fucking asshole.

How selfish.

A coward too, he wouldn’t know how to react either way. Instead he revels in your words as a distraction. “My boss seems to like him a lot. The only one getting in trouble would be me.” You sigh, fork moving food around. Mark looked between you and your actions, you noticed him, that you took a few bites to make him stop.

“Why don’t you apply to where we work?” He suggests, chewing what was on his fork, now using it to point between him and Jaehyun. Foolish to not grasp yet how that would mean seeing Jaehyun more and having it rub in his face that even under the same roof you’ll run to him for favors.

You liked the idea, it was easy to notice how much you perked up at the fact that he suggested being together 24/7 no matter the different departments.

Jungwoo had other plans, “Then you’d leave me alone.” He pouts childishly. On other occasions he’d laugh too and call him cute but he doesn’t think he can see Jungwoo as fondly as before. “Move to my floor instead.” He continues to test the waters but is met with a kind giggle and shrug from you.

The afternoon transpired with finishing lunch. Jaehyun had insisted on cleaning the dishes while Jungwoo the pots. Mark on the other hand sat on the couch, eyes often stealing glances on how you interacted with the other two. If you tried to clean, they’d reject the idea and tell you to just go sit and do what Mark is doing: nothing; an obvious jab. 

Ending their visit with discussing the kick-back Johnny was hosting at his place in a few weeks. Something about the Champions or US Open? You’re not sure. You were growing more worried about Mark, that you ended up telling whoever to just text you the deets. They smiled with a nod… and a kiss to your cheek as a goodbye while waving to Mark who perked at the scene. He felt his eyes warm and heavy. Not sure if they were tears beginning to form from jealousy or insecurity. 

You throw him an acknowledging smile while making your way to the bedroom. He stood up, leaving the TV on to follow behind. Before you could open the closet door to fetch something to sleep in, you feel his arms wrap around you. There was desperation to his grab, his hold was rough. Your back hit his chest, feeling his exasperated breath on your neck. Soft kisses at first but nipping soon after to leave his name all over you again, claiming you since it seemed like the others weren’t being repelled.

“Mark?…” You call out, his hands knead your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?… Why did you keep–” ‘everything’ he wanted to say, “that from me?” 

“Come on–” you intend to plead but he’s not letting it go. “Why?!” He asks exasperatedly against your face while he leaves wet kisses on the skin, pleadingly. “I didn’t want to burden you.” You confess, a whine at the harsh grasp.

“You’re my wife! I need to know these types of things, Y/n. You can’t just keep things from me, how can we be good to– how can it be good for us?” He exclaims; angry and wailing all at once.

‘How can we be good together like this?’ He wanted to say, biting his tongue to not tell truths while sober. Mark didn’t know what it was, but it hurt. He had been thinking about this for weeks. How to ask you overall about the things you’ve hidden from him but now that he has the chance to bring it up, he can’t help but feel resentful and pained. 

Why did you trust Jaehyun and Jungwoo more than him? He’s your husband.

He expected that once married, loyalty would be granted to him no matter what, one way or another. Just like she had granted it to Donghyuck despite how flawed their marital logic was.

Sure, he made things worse but would the universe be cruel enough for him to be in Hyuck’s shoes years later? He deserved it, he knew, something at least, but that ill side of him– what he had learned from her plagues him and demands you to love him unconditionally. To do things on your own without the help of others even when he’s the one to deny you any aid, when he’s at fault.

Mark is miserable and he expects you to be so too… even more than you already are.

Misery loves company.

His hands stopped their harsh kneading, turning you around to look at him. His tired and weary eyes looked straight into yours. But while he felt resentful and confused, you felt odd. Why was he acting like he cared all of the sudden? It was strange and while you appreciated it to an extent, you also hated it.

You weren’t used to it at least, and you weren’t sure if this act would last. You don’t want to admit it but that voice hidden in the vault of your heart loathes him more than anything.

“Okay…” You nod. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you things more often, yeah?” 

“Please…”

You nod and he nods, pleadingly; he’s not content and neither are you. 

After that discussion, the day transpired as if nothing had happened. He had returned to the living room leaving you to do whatever while he kept his distance. Only answering with hums and nods whenever you come out of the room.

Did you mind? No, it was so normalized it didn’t make you angry anymore. You actually felt like things were back to normal and this was sufficient enough. Mark on the other hand tried everything to ignore how he felt or regulate those emotions since he wasn’t too sure who he was mad with. 

By the time he had figured he was over it, you had fallen asleep alone like all those times he did weeks prior. A warmth filled his chest at the thought. An inkling telling him to wake up before you do the following day just to leave that dissatisfaction you had left in him, not accounting with how disappointed you were with him already that it wouldn’t affect you in the slightest.

He wouldn’t do it, though. Not because he cared enough, but because he wasn’t planning on waking up early to be petty. What he will do is go back to the living room and let his fingers roam like Thing until those crumpled and messy pages sat on his lap and he laid on the couch, stereo system on.

Instantly he’s met with those familiar sharp corners and loops. Numbers, increasing and decreasing significantly. The larger ones bold from rage, the decreasing one's neatly written with smiley faces next to them. He still couldn’t figure out what they meant but he surely enjoyed the recipes you kept adding to the journal and the doodles of how they turned out. Although, he felt that they lacked so much substance.

All of these felt either welcoming or asked that he be eradicated from this earth for the way he’s breaching your privacy, acting like an over controlling strict father despite being your husband. Almost like his dad, but don’t tell him that or he’ll throw a fit. For having lived so many lives, he's surely turning into the worst version of himself.

Through more flipping to see if he missed anything, he came across some interesting notes. All which made his stomach churn and that pride he would once feel, turned to– well, some type of disgust and concern…

‘I’ll do anything for him but every day I’m going insane with tense trials. It’s fine. If I have to go insane to stay with him I will.’

Mark sighs heavily, hands covering his face to soon slide off hoping his flesh would fall with them, groaning to himself.

Fuck, he loved you. In a fucked up way he did but how much could he endure knowing things aren’t fine and dandy? Sure, his first instinct is to try and fix things but there’s also that part that won’t let him strive for any change and it’s winning.

Change hasn’t been the kindest to him in the past. Hell, it’s the reason he’s morphed into what he is now but you accept him this way. That’s what the incessant and pestering part of him told him to let things be and just act like he doesn’t know what you truly are.

He should be glad, no? To know that you love him so much that it’s killing you. Yet, he isn’t. He’s not sure why, maybe because of his deep buried true morality but he has also grown to be selfish and he wants to relish in the glory of your love until you hit a breaking point.

For once he doesn’t want to be a Bernal character and it seems this is where he is slowly breaking that pattern— albeit, he is not enjoying it either. 

Perhaps it was the hour, his growing resentment, anger, and hurt, or he was overstimulated that caused the music in the background to tremble and clog his ears the longer he kept reading. Lists upon lists of things you had to do at work followed by entries on how much longer your hours would run every instance you paid no mind to that dick that the guys described.

Countless entries of your boss calling your attention after that asshole complains. Instances in which, despite how many pictures of Mark you put up in your cubicle, he makes an effort to make them disappear any time you’re not near. On company dinners, Jungwoo and you make it your life’s mission to slither away from the crowd– to be seen but not noticed, enough to not be reprimanded when you’re miles away from danger.

‘Jungwoo mentions in passing every opening in his floor as an incentive to ask for a transfer. Going as far as getting letters of assistance to request my temporary time in the department. Hours to days, they have been great but not everything lasts. With just one foot back inside in my department, the entire mood shifts and it’s back to reality.’

Mark doesn’t understand why his chest aches every time he reads your journal. Perhaps there’s a moderate amount of empathy but he also feels hurt knowing you’re hiding so much from him.

Years worth of things and even if you don’t say it, you make it known you hate the person he is. Mark is sure that if you weren't attached to him like you are, you’d loathe him the way you loathe everyone who has wronged you. He wonders how long it will be until your love runs out and he will finally become one of them.

He shouldn’t expect it but if it happened with Donghyuck who promised to never leave him, of course it can happen with you who he has wronged just as bad as his brother, even if you do everything in your power to prove him wrong. Mark tends to bite the hand that feeds him, if he gnaws for far too long, surely there will be consequences.

03:46, a warm night in 2008… Aggravated and nauseous from making your suffering about himself, Mark dictates that it was enough meddling for the day. Tiresome and bleary-eyed, head thumping achingly with the music debilitating him; Mark stands up frustratedly to turn off Sinead O’Connor angrily screaming ‘you’re a liar’ over and over making him forget about the journal on his lap.

The vegan leather taunts him with its loud thump against the floor, screeching as he picks it up but in the process he drops some notes. “Fuck me!” He curses frantically, knowing you’ll definitely know he’s been snooping when none of these end up where you originally placed them. He starts to panic, he feels his heart race dangerously, his aching head is now spinning, flipping through pages to see where he can put these in, yet in the process he stops.

“Don’t beat yourself up because of him. I’ll always be on your corner and so will Jungwoo. I love you, y/n. – Jaehyunie ♡”

I love you, y/n… Not ‘we love you’ but ‘I. I love you’.

Mark’s blood runs cold, his eyes bulge. In that moment he feels his chest and heart compress, squeezing the life out of him.

This is what Mark’s fears came to. He worried so much about your unconditional love becoming conditional, that the universe allowed him to see the incriminating clue that told him that sooner than later that was to happen. Right?

 ‘Dinner on me today! NO buts! Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?! XOXO — Snoops XD.’

The pitch black ink taunts him, questioning how recent or how old these must be. The handwriting felt juvenile with every smooth corner and small bottoms. The top of every letter felt bubbly and messy when connecting. Jaehyun’s could still be neat when messy and for some reason that bothered Mark more.

Unbeknownst to Mark, the papers were crumpling between his shaky fingers. As shaky as his breath restraining whatever he was feeling. ‘Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?’ Mark repeats to himself that same question for a hundred more times, each making him more angry. ‘Who else but her husband? Me!’ He wants to yell at the top of his lungs. Drill it in the minds of everyone in your shared circle. He was capable of taking care of you!

But being capable doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t nor put effort into doing so.

No, Mark didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to jump into conclusions of infidelity or anything down that rabbit hole. He knew you wouldn’t do it. He wants to think that, he wants to believe it. You’re literally ruining yourself for him, so why would you do all that to throw it all away? Regardless, he can’t swallow the lump in his throat. 

He also once thought him and Hyuck would be in each other’s lives until they died. It later turned into him believing Hyuck would fade into the shadows of this earth and not ever see him because she would be his, choosing him, but that didn’t happen. In fact it was the opposite. He also didn’t become the renowned artist he was in his college years with a list full of connections that left him when he fell from grace. 

He didn’t end up thriving in the studio where he was meant to start over and is now in a dead-end design engineering job because of his father and his connections, not Mark’s. Did he know anything about it going in? He knew the word design but oh god how far can connections go if he landed something like that.

Even you, he met you because of his father, and the bells of the life he avoided for years rang incessantly letting him know no one can run from their faith. No matter how hard they try.

It didn’t matter if he was or wasn’t in Hyuck’s shoes, it only mattered that he now knew how much pain Hyuck was going through seeing his wife rejoice in the care and love of men he considered friends. That and the fact that he was making your unraveling all about himself, at least they can share that too.

He couldn’t understand how you acted so peaceful and put together when during lunch he’d visit the cafes you frequented with Jungwoo and found you the same as the first time. Exasperated, vexed, and angry with a cigarette between your fingers when you two were to leave.

A chuckle on his lips remembering all the times you pestered him to quit smoking because you wanted him for many years to come. Now he’s not sure if you want to be with him as much, no matter how many times you write about it.

“You’re still a liar, you’re still a liar, you’re still a liar!”

Monday rolled around in which Mark swore to not allow Jungwoo another lunch date with you. Furthering his selfishness and restricting your moments of relief so he could take that time up. You wouldn't mind, right? It’s him after all…

It goes to say that when he stepped through the ample threshold of your floor with a cute little bag in his hand and some drinks in the other, that confusion crossed your mind before that thought was pushed back by adoration. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a warm smile. You felt like a child whose parents never showed up for any activities but this one. That childish glee and relief of knowing that you are loved. “Can’t pay my wife a visit?” Mark retaliates with a cheeky smile, leaning in to give you a short but sweet kiss.

You want to say it felt like when you first began dating. So sweet, tender, and soft. How he was before you married and his facade fell, showing how dependent he was. His small acts of love come through.

You want to believe it so bad that you’re willing to push back the tiny voice in your head trying to force you to question what he wanted out of you if he was willing to visit you this far.

“Well yeah,” You giggle in an effort to leave your desk. “Come, let’s go to the rooftop.” Your hand takes a hold of his wrist, pulling him along until that incessant blob of human flesh presents itself right in front of you both, blocking the way. 

“Well look at that. Your husband, right? Didn’t think you’d like the soft ones…” A mocking grin slapped on his face, arms crossed against his chest. He wasn’t much taller than Mark but he sure was confident to take a step closer to you both. Mark opts to carry all bags in one hand, twisting his wrist to hold your hand rather than you him.

You sigh, looking for ways to respond but Mark doesn’t give you time, walking around him with you in front, ignoring any calls from him to go back for a conversation. Such an insufferable man, Mark was aware but to you, this moment, you were still treating it like one of your earlier dates. His attentiveness and courage of protecting you. You missed that Mark and any resentment from marrying him faded for now.

“That’s him?” Mark breaks the silence, the walk to the rooftop consisting of him complaining from these few seconds they met. If he thought this much from only that timeframe, you wonder how long he would have lasted in your shoes. 

You responded to his complaints with nods and hums, taking a seat across from him on the bistro table. He laid back on the chair relaxed, if it wasn’t for his babbling one would think he wasn’t really affected.

“And, I mean, he’s such a dick.” He groans, sitting up straight, his roll of eyes halting upon noticing you pick at one half of the sandwich. 

Mayo wiped off, pickles on the bundle of used napkins, the turkey they touched on top of them, chunks of old avocado added to the tower. “What are you doing? Why are you picking at your food all of the sudden?” He leans against the table, elbows on the glass to be closer to you. In that instance, you stop your actions, looking at him through lashes before raising your head.

“Mark, I don't like these. I thought you knew by now…”

Fuck.

“No, yeah, I know. I’m sorry…” His hand leaves his chin, stretching it to hold yours. “Sorry, I forgot to check the order at the cafe, I didn’t want traffic to get me.” You smile at him, he smiles at you. You know he’s lying but it’s the thought that counts. “Plus, I think I came at the perfect time. Imagine I had come later and he had bothered you more?” His fingers squeeze yours, a little too hard if you say so. 

He’s received with a shrug. “He’s a dick, like you said.” You giggle softly, pulling your hand away to wipe them with another napkin. “He doesn’t react like that with Jaehyun, though. Does everything to avoid him.” Your head tilts, reassembling the sandwich to presentability. 

“Jaehyun?” You gave him that same look as when he questioned you seconds earlier, except it was softer and almost incriminating. You didn’t mean it in any form, more casually but after his findings, Mark can’t say he’s too happy with this information.

“Oh, well, when you can’t bring what I ask you to, I… sometimes ask Jae. So, they've met before…” Your gaze lowers, taking the other sandwich half onto your hands. “I think he’s scared of Jae, to be honest.” You giggle in attempts to break whatever tension you felt from your husband.

‘Jae, Jae, Jae. Christ, what a broken record.’ Mark thought, an urge to roll his eyes at the mention of his coworker. For fucks sake, he was the last thing he wanted to think about or even see. The only reason he saw him today was because of work but that should be it. He shouldn’t be hearing or thinking about his name here with you. Let alone hear it coming from you, his wife.

Stretching your hand towards him, you smile. “Here, eat the other half. These are huge on their own.” He took it, lunch soured by your incessant need to bring up Jaehyun and that dickhead from earlier.

Was this how he was paid? Making an effort to be a good husband just to have things be thrown in his face?

Lunch ended not too long after, he was on his own lunch break after all. It goes to say that his drop off and goodbye bid seemed lackluster in comparison to his greeting.

“Um, and don’t forget to file a floor change.” He gave you a tired smile and a quick kiss. It was the last thing he said to you while fixing any pictures of you two on your desk —three missing now— before heading towards the elevator. 

Like an act of a malice-meaning demon, when reaching the twelfth floor, the doors yanked themselves open like a grand introduction to a world renowned boxer or an all-show wrestler, showcasing that smug pug-faced asshole. A silent chuckle upon placing himself next to Mark who slumped against the railing and mirror walls.

Mark greeted him with a huff, head lolling similar to his eyes. The feeling got worse when he heard him blubbering, “At first I thought that the other guy was her boyfriend. You know, tall, dimples; suits her better.” He nods to himself, egging Mark’s ringing ears.

Here they went again. Bringing Jaehyun into every conversation. It’s made worse knowing that this idiot felt even Jaehyun could be your partner. That no matter how many images of Mark you display, to the world only Jae was good enough for you. Because he’s the only one who shows up.

“He seems like an actual man or that guy from the floor below. The orange haired one, a little weird but he surely goes out of his way to not let me have some fun for the day.” He laughs, snorting at his abhorrence. He turns to Mark, swallowing that disgusting lump of mucus in his throat, hand itching to come in contact with Mark’s smooth cheek. A pat of mockery. “She’s doing charity work with you.” 

Ironic, Mark would say. Ironic that he thinks you’re doing charity work with him when this idiot was never an afterthought. The older man insists on glaring at Mark, not letting their gazes drop, seeking any response from Mark even when the elevator rings, letting them know they’ve hit the garage lobby. He felt victorious feeling as if he had struck a nerve when Mark hopped off without a peep. Only for his triumph to be shut down shortly after.

“No wonder she has never mentioned you before. You’re repulsive to even think about and a sorry excuse for a man.”

A disgusted scowl replaced Mark’s poker face, glaring at the once mocking jackass whose face had sagged, shock turning into anger that he didn’t know how to express before the doors closed, making his target disappear from view.

Mark might have felt great in the moment but things could only go worse for you. He didn’t think about the consequences of his actions. He never did. He didn’t think about how it would affect you at work and the repercussions you faced for the weeks to come. Mark hadn’t processed he was at fault until your journal became frantic, pages with holes from how hard you wrote on them. Crumpled from the anger you couldn’t express besides abusing those pages.

He didn’t notice because he was indulging amongst the side notes and words highlighted with your tears about how scared you were of losing him. Your quick remarks on how you felt him pulling away or acting odd. Imploring to whichever higher being to not take him from you if that was the case. While you’re wallowing in the pits of your sadness hoping he won’t leave you, Mark enjoys the feeling of warmth seeing your desperation.

It meant you loved him, right? With how things were going on with Jaehyun, Mark took any crumb of your love that only felt real when you wrote about it. It’s hard to understand why he didn’t feel it was real when it came from your lips but it did when you confessed to the things you’ve put yourself through for him. For him, not Jaehyun, him, Mark. That felt like love.

Right, only on paper it felt like love. Not like now that you found yourself in Johnny’s kitchen with Jaehyun next to you like a guard dog, chewing your ear off with whatever he was saying despite your look of anguish. A worrying look to Mark and the likes of his— well, your friend it seems.

He had been enjoying the final match with Johnny, Yanyang, and the other coworkers they shared. You had been sitting by his side for most of it but it wasn’t until a few minutes ago that Jaehyun pulled you aside, asking for your help to make some drinks for the rest of the guests but now he was holding you hostage, begging you to drink some water.

Mark figured the drinks you had were getting to you and Jaehyun could tell. He won’t say he’s fond of that fact. That Jaehyun knows you well to the point he can tell when you need to be cut off.

Mark tried not making it obvious but when only his head isn’t turned to the TV and the host is making sure his guests are having a good time, well it’s hard to miss. Johnny notices it too, how Jaehyun was fixing you a slider, the words: “You haven’t eaten well, stop trying to fool me.” sternly spewing from his mouth.

No mayo, no pickles, no condiments at all. Just a plain cheeseburger slider. He knew how you liked it by heart and that’s something that makes Mark’s heart pound in hate.

The feeling becomes worse when your whispering turns frantic and almost audible for the rest to hear. Your words whining like you wanted to cry about how hellish work has become after Mark’s visit. Jaehyun shakes his head, hands pressing against the counter to lean against with an angry look on his face. That infamous look of hollow cheeks and sunken dead eyes. He wanted to say something but knew it was best to be a shoulder to lean on.

“And don’t tell me to talk to him about it because what’s the use?! You know how he is. I love him, I do but—” Your hands come in contact with your forehead, shaking it a bit, “Why can’t he just be a tad bit like you?…” You hiccuped, hands slowly sliding down to your mouth as you shut your eyes. It wasn’t a sign of regret but exhaustion, vile stuck in your throat. 

Jaehyun’s face softened, standing up straight to turn to you. To some form of comfort, his hand extends to rub your back, pulling you in for a side hug while you try to hold in whatever you feel. Jaehyun understands your words come from a place of hurt but confessions like that can be taken wrongly.

“Why can’t he be just a tad bit like you?...” Just like Mark had, who now felt his heart shatter. Disillusioned and hurt, stupid for thinking that you would want him no matter what. Worse off, it was Jaehyun who you confessed that to. Someone that everyone thought was a better fit for you.

I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.

Johnny took it upon himself to raise the volume of the TV, sparing Mark from any more anguish and saving your business to be heard by the other guests who by the graces of God were more interested in who would win the Stanley Cup this season.

His attempts didn’t work. Mark felt his world crashing down on him in this instance. He wanted to go out and scream, cry even, at the reviving memories flashing through his head. He’s seen this before— no, he’s experienced this.

Her cries to him about Hyuck to soon commence their affair in that same instance. If that was to happen in these walls, Mark thinks it’s his time to take a leap out of Johnny’s apartment balcony.

So when you leave me, I should die. I deserve it, don’t I? I can feel it getting near.

The vile stuck in your throat had been persistent on coming out, enough to push Jaehyun out of the way to run towards Johnny’s bathroom. It’s amazing how enthralled with the game his guests were to not notice anything happening behind them. To not feel Mark’s radiating poison as he watches his wife and ‘friend’ rush towards the bathroom, door slamming behind him. If it wasn’t for Jeno’s and Yangyang’s cheering scream, they would hear you hurl the slider into the toilet bowl, crying along with self-disgust.

Mark couldn’t hold it in anymore; abruptly he stands, ignoring Johnny’s sympathetic look. Not only for him but for you too, aware of Mark’s own flaws. He had thoughts of barging in and blowing Jaehyun’s ear off with his barking. Questioning you about what was going on, but he slowed down when he heard you hiccup and cry before and after vomiting. Jaehyun’s soothing hushes to you making his head spin but innocent enough.

Innocent until he opened his mouth. “Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, it’s okay, pretty girl.” Jaehyun coos into Mark’s eardrum through a megaphone to imprint the notes of his voice onto his brain. 

Pretty girl. That’s his pet name for you, Mark’s pet name. Hurt floods him when you make no effort to correct him and present this fact.

Since when have you become someone else’s pretty girl?

He couldn’t take it any longer, angrily slamming the door open to watch Jaehyun soothing you with backrubs, holding your hair as you went.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Mark spits out venom, mimicking that of a cobra. His eyes widened by hot fury as he approached you two. You wanted to speak, but the invasion from your gut stopped you, tears being the only thing you were able to respond with.

Jaehyun on the other hand gives him a look as if to tell him to calm down, that everything was fine, more worried about your well being than Mark’s insecurities. “Just helping her out, calm down.”

It aggravated him how collected Jaehyun’s words were, how little mind he paid him or how you made no effort to have Jaehyun stop giving you supportive squeezes (almost like you weren’t fighting for your life).

Mark huffs, hands taking purchase on his waist watching you two, the volume to the television and the guests drawn out by your heaving. He whispers, walking towards Jaehyun with that same menacing look– eye roll worthy, Jaehyun would say.

“I just fucking heard you, she’s my wife. What the fuck are you trying to do?” His finger rose to poke at Jaehyun’s shoulder. The taller one of the two feeling offended by Mark’s accusations and thoughts that he’d snake him like that. Jaehyun was not Mark.

“Sorry, that’s on me,” Jaehyun slaps Mark’s hand away, creating some distance. “I'm just helping her—” “Back the fuck off, she’s my wife…” 

Tired enough by this facade, Jaehyun scowls at Mark, pushing past him towards the door. “Then don’t be a shitty husband and she won’t have to seek other people to do what you can’t! I know how to respect marriages well enough, if anything I’m just helping her. Something you should do for once in your fucking life.”

Jaehyun bites back, watching Mark’s face falter as he slams the door behind him while you continue your sobbing. Overwhelmed by your bodily reaction but mostly for what just ensued in this room. With no form to defend yourself and Jaehyun. Hurt that Mark thought you two would betray him like he’s done to those before you.

You believe me like a God, I’ll betray you like a man.

In that instance Mark wanted to run to Jaehyun and gouge his eyes out, rip his stupid freshly bleached hair out, and beat him until he was nothing else than liquid matter. The words rang horribly inside his head to the point he was seeing red, his vision blurred and stars were floating in his eyes.

History was repeating itself and he was finally paying his wrong doings. He thought Jungwoo and Jaehyun were his friends but Hyuck thought the same of him and now he’s found himself in this predicament.

You're sweet, you're lovely. You go out of your way to make Mark happy so it was him all along. He's the problem and karma is finally making him pay the price.

Jaehyun understood it was his fault for being careless and using pet names but can one blame him when he was worried? Someone has to if not the one who bowed to do so. Even when he’s gone from eye sight, Jaehyun’s efforts are felt through Johnny who knocks on the door. Mark opens it slightly, Johnny standing before him with a glass of water and baking soda. Telling him about how Jaehyun sent him before leaving; for you to swish your mouth with this and drink some sparkling water to soothe your stomach ache.

Mark took it without a word, nodding at Johnny before shutting the door in his face as if this wasn’t his home. You were up on your feet by the time Mark turned around, lid closed as you flushed the toilet, reaching the sink to rinse your mouth before taking the glass from his hand. No words from either of you.

He looked at you through the mirror, arms crossed and factions softening upon noticing how tired and sick you looked. Gauntly, lips and eyes puffed out, and cheeks streaked. It was best to go home after that incident, only giving Johnny an apologetic goodbye while the rest of the guests paid no mind. On your end you were out of the apartment already, embarrassment laced on your face. 

And even through the car ride, all you could think about was Mark’s words and actions. Memories of Mark smugly telling his ex-best friend words Jaehyun spat at him flooded his vision, making it dangerous for him to be driving. To his side you grunted in discomfort, feeling as if vile was to rise from you again but he paid you no mind, made no effort to comfort you, more focused on his own feelings.

The look Hyuck had on his face eight years ago was the one Mark mirrors this night. One way or another one will pay for all their sins and you were his cross.

He didn’t talk to you for the remainder of the night. Didn’t care enough to question why you fell ill or how frightened you were about the possibility that this may be it, that this was his excuse to leave you behind.

The thoughts, his actions and words clouding your mind through your shower, skin care routine, and brushing your teeth. Spending minutes upon minutes doing the latter, disgusted by yourself. Brushing away all the vile you wanted to throw at him but instead ended down Johnny’s plumbing. For only Jaehyun to hear and understand.

Mark laid down on his side by the time you came out of the bathroom. You knew he was angry, his stiff body making no effort to move even when feeling the bed sink under your knees. He tried not to move when he felt your arms wrap around him seeking comfort in his warmth, but Mark wasn’t willing to give it to you. Without a care if he hurt you, which is what he did.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Your words made his eyes open. Startled, his body hardens under your touch, almost like your upcoming tears were freezing him on the spot. Damp on his sleeping shirt but hot on his back. He turns abruptly, pushing back a bit in the process. “What are you even ta—”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!” You cut him off, voice raising to something he’s never heard before. “You’ve been so distant. More than usual and I can’t take it anymore!” Your palms cover your eyes, pushing back tears, forbidding you to look at that mocking grin on his face as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

You’re the one who grows distant when I beckon you near.

His voice on the other hand makes sure you know how he feels. “You think so? I think this is the closest I’ve been to you.” He chuckles, taking into account that look of confusion on your face as you put down your hands, resting them on your lap. “Why don’t you tell me anything, Y/n? You tell Jungwoo everything. You ask Jaehyun to do everything for you. I’m your husband, why don't you don’t you trust me enough?” 

Your confusion falls, disgust and anger replace it. “When I ask anything out of you, you never want to nor know how to do it.” Your voice was hurt, head shaking a tad with every syllable, hate laced into each one. He hated how much your reaction resembled Jaehyun’s.

He doesn’t want to admit you’re right, “You ask the most absurd of favors.” He scoffs, sitting up to be face to face with you. “Are you fucking serious? You’re a grown man who can’t cook or clean for himself. Up until I saw you at the bakery I thought you didn’t know where it was but then I saw you with another girl there.” You huff, arms flailing like when you’re with Jungwoo. 

There would be some satisfaction in him to know your true self is here talking with him but bringing old news made him groan. “I thought you said it was fine and we’d drop it there.” He takes into account the glare you’re throwing him, smoke coming out of your ears the longer neither of you speak.

If he had known a few drinks would do this to you, he would have not let you drink. The thing is, Mark pays no mind to you to not notice you’ve drank mocktails all night. He was more worried about Jaehyun than you.

“It’s not fine when you’re with some other girl to a place you keep avoiding when I ask you to go. Is it because of her? Is she the one taking my place now?” Your voice came out choppy, acheful, with the question, inhaling and exhaling to calm yourself down.

He on the other hand doesn’t take it kindly, annoyed that you’d think about him that way but that's what he’s been thinking about you, so what difference does it make? It would not be his first rodeo, so are you that insane to think of him like that?

I’ll betray you like a man.

Mark stands from the bed, crouching to eye-level with you as if you were a child he’s lecturing. “It’s not because of her, I don’t give a fuck about her! I barely know her, she is just an intern, and hasn't been there for a month now! We were sent by my boss!” His fingers poke his temple, in a form to tell you to get it through your head.

“But I’m right? You don’t love me anymore.”

Mark stands up straight in disbelief with your words despite none defending his case coming from his own mouth. He could see how your heart was crushing with every passing second.

The truth is hiding in your eyes and it’s hanging on your tongue. Just boiling in my blood. 

“All this time I thought you were calm… level headed— but you're the opposite... you don’t talk to me, you tell Jaehyun and Jungwoo everything. Why can’t you tell me everything? Why can't you need and trust me?” His voice softens, calming down.

“Because you don’t ever want to listen to me! I can’t need you when you do everything in your power for me not to!” Truth is, he did know how to clean and cook for himself, he's done it before but he's grown selfish and dependent.

Your outburst left him speechless, all the sighs he had to give stuck and dispersed through every crevice of his interior, poisoning his flow. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t want to believe it.

“I give and give and give but I never receive! I love you so much, it's become so painful that I rather let it slide than be far from you.” You crawl closer to the edge of the bed, hoping to minimize the distance between you two. The feeling of proximity only seems to feel farther, leaving room for a blizzard to rest between you two.

Mark knows he’s not man enough, your coworker said it. He knows he doesn’t help or take care of you, Jaehyun and Jungwoo told him so. None of these men had to tell him for him to know he doesn’t deserve you. It just so happens to be that Mark is selfish and wasn’t able to process it until now. He swore he believed you through writing but now, with you telling him directly— reality is forcing itself upon him.

“I think we should take a break.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“What?” You ask confused and startled, looking up at him with fury in your eyes. “What? Don’t be fucking stupid. We’re married and we’ll stay this way! It's not as easy as you let out, asshole.” You sniffle, getting off the bed now, approaching him despite the gap he’s formed between you two. In all senses. 

“You’re just not who I fell in love with anymore.”

You wanted to rip his hair out, claw his skin and inject your pain and love into him so he could understand what you felt. You knew he was selfish but how fucking stupid could he be? 

“You’re so— you’re no fucking better than anyone else. You fell in love with the idea you made of me. Whatever the fuck that is! Any chance you get to see the real me you shut me down, Mark! Why can’t you just love me?! Not the stupid girl you thought I was.”

Your cries stopped, hands taking purchase on his arms, squeezing tighter with the adrenaline of wrath coursing through your veins. You were tired, tired of his foolishness and in times like these, you weren’t going to let him ruin what you’ve built.

“You fell in love with an idealized version of me too, if you’re still this in love.” Mark gulps, making no effort to move but his eyes felt heavy and tired. Hurt even, not sure if for himself or for you, empathy winning for once. Pity sounds better.

You think that I can’t see what kind of man that you are. If you’re man at all.

“I see you for who you fucking are. You’re selfish, you don’t want to do things for others unless you’re getting something out of it. You weaponize your incompetence for me to do things for you. You’re insecure especially with other men around me because you think of yourself exactly the opposite as them unless they’re more pathetic compared to you.” Your finger poked his chest, reminiscing on how he began berating Jaehyun.

“You’re especially jealous of your friends because they offer more for me than you do and that’s your fault.  You project your insecurities and mistakes onto them and me because you’re a bad friend, husband, and ultimately a bad person. Yet I’m still with you because I love you— even with everything you put me through and how you can’t help but compare me to— to her! Get over it and through your head, that was loneliness and you were the easiest victim. No one leaves their husband for someone they don't love.”

Like the pathetic man he was, he broke down. No amount of swallowing and gulping down the knot in his throat would go away. Tears streamed down his cheeks upon hearing you project onto the world what you had whispered to the toilet bowl earlier. Mark wasn’t aware that you knew about Hyuck and her but he wouldn’t doubt if you had come across letters from them both in the past just like he came across your journals. 

Having you voice what he had been thinking about since that experience caused his world to finally see true color, despite you being purposely vicious. He knew what that fling meant for her, for Hyuck, and for him. It just so happens that it meant more for him and here he was taking it out on the only person who has stuck by his side.

You loved him but you also hated him and that was more than clear to him now.

“Better reason for us to take a break. You deserve better… I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.” He sighs, sniffling, throwing his head back to not let any more tears shed. 

“I don’t care. If I go without you I’ll—I…” you clinging your nails to his shoulders trying to cut off your words. You knew what you wanted to say wasn’t healthy, not for you and not for him. Mark knows this, weeks of reading your entries allowing him to understand what goes within the walls of your brain. 

"Y/n please stop... you’re hurting me." It doesn't change the fact that feeling it was worse than reading it. “Then you’re a coward who would die within an hour in my shoes if I treated you the way you treat me.” You sternly and ferociously spit. He wails before doing the only thing he knew would calm you down. 

Leaning in, he kisses you, meekly. Pouring in the love he once had for you and the remaining he has now. But your body rejects it, feeling how phony it is. Pushing him off, running to the restroom to repeat the happenings of earlier. Mark sighs in relief to have you not corner him but in this instance concern floods him.

He follows you to the bathroom, standing by the door frame with crossed arms. Watching you hold your hair like Jaehyun had done earlier. Tears back in your eyes as you continue to lash out your rage against the white porcelain that's witnessed this on other occasions. Although this was one that should symbolize happiness, yet it’s clear you both won’t take it as such.

Mark took a look at his watch, 11:28PM. “Come on, get your shoes. I’ll take you to urgent care, you probably just need some electrolytes.” He approaches you, aiming to help you up but you resist, shaking your head defeatedly. 

“I’m not drunk.” You let out through gritted teeth. “No?” He questions smugly, annoyed at your rejection. “They were mocktails. These are normal symptoms.” He gives you a quizzical look. “Look in the drawer, Nancy Drew.” You huff, mocking him for his detective work these past weeks. It was only natural he’d find out eventually if he kept meddling in your journals.

With furrowed eyes, and look remaining, Mark pulls at the white drawer, the cold metal burning his warm hand. He digs and digs through piles of papers. All bills or old letters neither of you cared enough for. Reaching the bottom Mark feels something solid wrapped around a newer piece of paper. In comparison to the yellowing pages, this was white and bright, tied with a rubber band around the solid material.

He throws you a quick glance while taking it into his hands, unraveling the rubber to open it and come to view with three sticks, all with matching two-pink stripes. Any ounce of hope to restart is gone with the weight in his hands. Disappearing when he read the paper.

‘Laboratory report Patient: Y/n Lee. Sampled collected: May 15, 2008. Report date: May 20, 2008 Status: Pregnant Gestational age: 5-8 weeks.’

Mark reads it over and over, finally having the courage to look at you. His eyes wide and dim, reflecting on your cold angry ones. This was it. It was his life. What you would have taken as a beautiful moment, you can now agree this seals your faith. The look you gave him mirroring his misery. At least now you both were on board for once, basking in the fact this was a deadend no matter what.

You both know nothing will get fixed, all there is left is to pretend for the life that’s growing within you. Wreckless as ever, and the cycle of life continues. An innocent life to suffer the trails of a failed relationship for years to follow. That’s all Mark knows, that’s all you know. Generational curses don't end with either of you.

if you liked happy together: it’s too bad you’re married… to me, you’ll enjoy: stupid girl !

join yojeongin’s taglist to be up to date with future work!

taglist: @haknyeonsju @seungjiseyo @theskzvibe @wonyofanclub @lovingvoidgoatee

[thinkinonsense]

ok so i had a thought😏😏 dbf!logan takes ur virginity and from then on u guys hook up whenever u get a chance (all the time). one night he gets done dicking u DOWN and u say u love him and he’s all like “we can’t do this anymore kid” very ANGSTYYY

i love you, i'm sorry- dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader

part two *mdni

"i love you, logan."

four little words that would send your world crumbling before your feet. the older man lifts himself from in between your chest, both of you panting post orgasm. nights like this had become a bad habit for the both of you.

from the moment logan first slipped off your panties in this exact spot a year ago, you had been wanting to tell him how you really felt. you wanted to tell him how you craved his touch when he wasn't around, how you adored the way he took care of you and most importantly, how this didn't feel 'casual' to you anymore.

seconds turned into minutes of silence, desperately waiting for logan to say something; anything.

"lo, are you going to say some-"

"we can't see each other anymore, kid." he says, avoiding eye contact with you as he pulls out.

"what?"

this wasn't real. that's the only sentence that your brain could form as you watch him put his boxers back on. you laid there on his bed, naked, vulnerable, with his cum dripping out of you and he can't even look you in your fucking eyes.

"ya' heard me." logan says, putting a cigar in his mouth and tossing your dress on the bed next to you.

"what happened?" your voice was trembling on the verge of rage and heartbreak.

"i told you a year ago not to bring that 'love shit' in here."

a year ago when he took your virginity. he promised to be gentle and to care for you. guess that didn't extend past sex for him.

you scoff, pulling your sundress over your head. "you didn't say that when you said you love how tight i fit around you or when you said you love how well i know you. was any of that even true?"

logan ignored you as he lit his cigar and waited for you to leave. you stand up and walk over to him, touching his chin and turning to so he's facing you.

"look me in the eyes when you kick me out of your bed." you spit angrily at the man you adored endlessly.

all logan could see was your eyes full of tears and your red puffy lips, trying to keep yourself together. deep down, he knew he deserved all the shit in the world thrown at him for him for breaking your heart. you would never understand why he had to be so cruel but his intentions were never to hurt you like this. it killed him.

"find someone your own age to love, kid." logan says, twisting the knife.

"don't call me kid, logan!" you yell at him. "i'm not a fucking child!"

"then stop acting like one!" his voice boomed back at you, spurring on more tears.

who had he turned into? you couldn't recognize the man in front of you. this wasn't your logan.

"so, you're just going to let me leave like this?" you cry, glaring at him. "give up everything we have all because you're afraid of me loving you?"

you didn't expect an answer, he already shoved your hand away from his face, no longer wanting the image of your broken heart haunting him.

logan wanted to tell you everything, explain why he can't accept your love because it will put you at a greater risks, but logically, logan knows he has to let you go.

"in ten years, when your ass is still sitting drunk on one of my fathers bar stools and he shows you photos of me and a man who can appreciate me for more than sex, a man who can admit he loves me back, you'll remember this moment because this will be the last time you ever fucking see me." you tell him rather calmly as you collect your shoes and purse.

logan watches you do as he asks and leave. if he was a better man, he would have done it differently; but then again, if he was a better man, he never would've fooled around with a twenty-something year old.

the front door slams with a broken sob escaping your lips. from the bedroom, logan could hear your car engine starting and that's when he could allow himself to grieve the life he would've had.

[jelijinxy]

MEGAN AND MANON THREESOME

-🧭

Is three a crowd? - Manon Bannerman & Megan Skiendial

Synopsis: Megan and Manon have a silent feud with each other about you, till they come to a conclusion

Pairings: Megan & Manon x Fem!reader

Genre: Smut? Bro idk lol

—————————————

Working with KATSEYE was never supposed to get complicated. It was supposed to be fun. Expanding your brand, your knowledge, your connections.

You were hired as their lead producer; trusted with polishing their sound, shaping their image, and helping guide one of the most talked about girl group into stardom. The group had chemistry, ambition, and undeniable talent. But what no one warned you about was the the silent tension between Megan and Manon that seemed to sharpen every time you were in the room.

To everyone else, it might’ve looked like creative friction. But you knew better. They weren’t fighting over choreography or vocal lines.

They were fighting over you.

It started small.

Megan would always ask to stay behind after rehearsals, her tone casual but her eyes saying something else.

"Just wanted to go over a few notes,"

she’d say, but she’d end up sitting on the edge of the mixing desk, watching you too closely, the silence stretching out longer than necessary.

Then, the next day, Manon would beat her to it; showing up early, offering you a coffee because you ‘work hard’

“You don’t have to take it,”

she’d say, soft and cool.

“But Its just something to show my appreciation for your hard work”

She’d lean closer when she said it. Her voice always dropped when no one else was around.

They never confronted each other directly. Instead, it was subtle.

Manon would roll her eyes when Megan spoke during meetings. Megan would “accidentally” cut off Manon during takes. Both of them found reasons to be around you, and neither one was willing to back down.

You weren’t blind. You also weren’t immune.

You liked the way Megan’s confidence softened when she looked at you. You liked the way Manon’s calm cracked, just slightly, when your attention drifted to someone else. You weren’t used to being the one caught between two flames; but something about the slow burn was addictive.

And they knew it.

One night, after a long studio session, you were packing up when the door opened and they both walked in.

Together. Smiling from ear to ear like they just solved an unsolvable equation.

You blinked.

“Thought you guys left with the others.”

Megan smiled first.

“We figured you could use a hand.”

Manon crossed her arms, leaning against the wall.

“Or maybe... we just needed to stop avoiding the obvious

You raised an eyebrow.

They exchanged a glance; a rare, silent truce between them.

Megan was the one to step forward.

“We both like you. That’s not news, right?”

Manon added, her voice low and even,

“And we know you like both of us. So maybe it’s time to stop pretending this has to be some dramatic, choice, when you can just enjoy us both”

You looked between them, heartbeat louder than you liked.

“Are you… suggesting-”

Megan smirked. Cutting you off.

“More like offering a solution.”

Manon tilted her head, gaze unwavering.

“A shared one.”

The room was quiet, but the air was thick with something electric. You weren’t sure what stunned you more; the fact that they’d finally addressed it, or the fact that they’d somehow found a way to agree on this.

You let out a breath, suddenly aware of how warm it had gotten.

Before you know it.

Manon was kissing you and Megan’s mouth was latched onto your neck. You felt hands fumbling with your belt as the slowly pushed you onto the couch.

“You could handle both of us right?”

Manon asked, your head nodded without thinking.

After that night, there was no tension between the girls anymore. You fucked it out of both of them.

____________________________________________

No comment again.

[chelseeebe]

bump n’ grind

a lil continuation to gimme a hand wherein our lovely reader helps eddie out after an embarrassing mistake.

18+ mdni. again, mostly just smut. maybe some angst towards the end i guessss. eddie munson x female reader.

eddie’s on cloud nine.

his head floating well above the pretty pink room he was currently in.

not entirely sure how he ended up here but also not at all angry about it. a night of rum and beer had lead him to this.

sarah.. savanna.. something, sits atop of his lap, bouncing off of his thighs like a jacked up rabbit.

he’s clawing at her back, trying and failing, to keep a steady grip on her wild body. appreciating the soft squeaks that left her mouth with every bounce.

and before he can really think about it enough to stop his mouth, he says it. wanting to dig his own grave the second his lips spread.

a long, drawn out iteration of your name.

she stops, immediately. breathless as she grips his shoulders, “what’d you say?”

his cock aches and his cheeks burn, any hope that she’d just ignore it and continue had flown out of the window, “what?” acting clueless, “i didn’t.. didn’t say anything.”

eddie knows full well what had slipped out of his loose lips, muscle memory from the embarrassing amount of times he had whined your name while imagining that it was your hand wrapped around his cock instead.

“you said somebody else’s name,” she frowns, sounding far too close to a possessive girlfriend rather than the one night stand that she actually was.

“did i? i don’t really remember.. does it matter?” with full sincerity, wondering if she was going to stay on his dick or climb off and throw him out.

“if i’m having sex with someone, i at least expect them to know my name,” she scowls, clambering from his lap to the empty space next to him.

“shit,” he mumbles, head in his hands, “fuck. i’m sorry,” sobering up instantly, embarrassed by his blunder.

she sighs, taking pity on his pathetic self, “is she your ex or something?” re-dressing herself with an old t-shirt, rightfully putting an end to their encounter.

“no..” eddie frowns, shaking his head, “she’s my.. my friend.”

best friend actually. making it all the more confusing and complicated. he’d spare her of all the gory details, for her sake.

“oh,” the girl gawps, stifling her laugh. “you should tell her,” leaning over to grab her phone, no doubt to tell all of her friends about eddie’s embarrassing freudian slip.

he’d deserve it.

-

eddie perches on the end of your bed, not daring to move any closer for fear of losing it and touching you like he dreamed of doing.

it had been four months, two weeks and five days since you’d jerked him off in that tiny bathroom.

not that he was counting.

and still nothing more had happened between you. a few instances where eddie had thought you were close but nothing of any real consequence.

nevertheless, a day hadn’t passed since where he hadn’t thought about it at least once.

he’s memorised every single frame of that video, all the times you pant and twist your hand. the exact second his phone falls onto the counter and the video changes to an image of the back of his head.

every. last. detail.

you jab your foot into his back, peering over your phone screen to frown at him, “what’s wrong with you?”

eddie sighs, letting his shoulders slump, still staring at the torn ac/dc poster he had ripped off the wall for you. it reminds him too much of times where things weren’t so complicated.

“i hooked up with someone the other day,” he states monotonously, uncaring anymore about telling you what had really happened.

“okay?” you jab him again, “why are you sad about that?” confusion echoing.

“i’m not sad.”

you sit up, the mattress shifting behind him, “then what the fuck’s your problem?” leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder, in that similar position you were in all those months ago.

sometimes he wishes you’d never touched him. that he had just settled with chrissy and you had never been an option. not that you really were now, still unobtainable, taunting and teasing him.

“i said your name,” he exhales in one big breath, “i said your name while i was having sex with her.”

his shoulders felt lighter now, despite you still resting on them. something about the relief of finally letting you know how he felt. embracing his stupidity.

“really?” your mouth falls open, “holy shit, that’s funny,” he can feel your hands creep up his back, sending shivers over his skin.

eddie shakes his head, at a loss for words. he could see how you’d find it funny, but he couldn’t see the humour in it himself. in fact, it was a marker for the absolute desperation he felt towards your new complex relationship. not only had you taken over all of his waking thoughts, but you’d somehow subliminally crept into his intoxicated mind thoo.

“what were you thinking about? when you said it,” you pry, head twisting around to look at him.

“you.”

“me?” you rasp, right into his ear. “what about me?” feeling your breath against his cheek, transporting him straight back to wayne’s cramped bathroom.

his eyes fall shut, like he’s in some humiliation ritual, getting off to the way you teased him so.

“that video.. that stupid video,” he whispers, tuned in to every twitch of your fingers on his back, your soft breaths in his ear.

“oh,” he can hear the smirk in your voice, unwilling to open his eyes to see it again, “is that it? just the video?”

he doesn’t understand why you’re asking so many questions. obviously enjoying the way he squirmed under your touch, antsy and reluctant to say anything.

“i was.. picturing you were her,” he squeezes out, blood rushing to not only his cheeks, but his cock too.

“aw,” you coo, hand sliding higher, “tell me how it felt,” voice thick with desire, fingers circling around his shaking shoulders.

“good..” his eyes squeeze together, feeling his jeans shift uncomfortably, “not as good as you did,” almost begging, pleading for it.

you hum, your other hand finding the top of his thigh, dangerously close to the tent in his jeans.

if you kept this up, he’d cum all over his fucking pants.

you squeeze the skin, a low grumble from yours lips, “what position were you in?”

oh god.

“w-why?” eddie chokes, seeing stars behind his eyelids.

“i just wanna know, eds.. so i can picture the scene.”

his head tilts back, allowing you the opportunity to creep into the crook of his neck, traces of your lips just barely touching the sensitive skin.

“please tell me,” you mumble, vibrating against his trachea, making his toes curl, grounding himself with the rough carpet.

“she was on top,” he spits, balling his fist around your blanket.

it didn’t feel real between his fingers, poorly substituting your body for the cotton.

“oh,” you shift, the bed frame creaking as you clamber into his lap, resting atop of his thighs. “like this?”

he doesn’t open his eyes. can’t, not without cumming his pants right there. but he can feel you, perched just below his crotch,

“what’d she do now? hmm?” dragging your nails down his chest, your fingers prod at his skin, forcing him to flop back against the mattress.

the space allows you to shuffle upwards, your cunt brushing against his aching cock, leaving him no choice but to turn into pure mush beneath you.

“fuck,” he breathes, daring a glance in hopes to keep the image ingrained in his mind forever.

your hips begin to grind against his crotch, groaning softly with your palms flat to his chest.

“you like that?” you purr, rocking back and forth on top for he rough denim of his jeans.

“i need you.. fuck, please,” he keens, fingertips so firmly pressed into your waist that they’d leave indentations for days.

you don’t respond, sighing softly as the friction between you grows stronger, cruel and twisted in the way you tease him.

he doesn’t understand what all of these almost-encounters mean. it’s like you want him but not fully. holding yourself back for the right moment or perhaps just trying to keep him going until somebody else came along.

his hands slide around to your ass, moving with every jerk and cant of your hips. gruff, frustrated sighs leave his mouth, mixing somewhere in the air with your whiny moans. need and urgency ricocheting around the walls of your room, yet neither one of you prepared to take it all the way.

“jesus eds, are you gonna cum?” you breathe, as much as this was for his benefit, you were getting off as well.

that alone makes this other worldly. even if he was doing absolutely none of the work, you were writhing and gasping just as he was.

it’s almost incomprehensible how much you using him to get off was frying his brain.

eddie was about to combust, the closeness of it all, so near and yet still so far apart. two layers of clothes felt like a million miles. finally brave enough to open his eyes, hoping to keep this image seared into his brain forever.

“yeah.. yeah i’m gonna cum,” he whines, jerking his hips up to meet yours, rocking against each other in perfect rhythm, “please.. oh fuck- fuckfuckfuck,” his cock positioned perfectly between your folds, covering your pajama shorts with your slick.

“good boy,” you breathe, fingers twisted into his shirt, tugging at the fabric, not letting up on your torturous grinding.

your tone is somewhere between mocking and sincere, but he doesn’t care. doesn’t have the brain capacity to if he’s honest.

his cock twitches against his boxers, hips shuddering into the air as an uncomfortable warmth overtakes his crotch.

“oh god.. shit,” the sudden realisation of the mess in his pants, how grotesquely down bad he was for you, hits all at once.

your lips curve, shuffling down to the top of his thighs. you don’t exchange words, just a sly glance that erupts into giggles. leaning down to peck his lips as your hands let go of their hold on his chest.

eddie’s hands don’t move, gripping onto your hips, hoping you’ll stay there for the rest of eternity. not only had he cum in his pants, he had done so at a disturbingly fast rate. a few minutes of what was essentially dry humping had left him sticky and full of shame.

“are you ever gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, practically begging for your mercy, needing to know for his own sake.

he likes to think that if you said no, he’d be able to walk away with his dignity, to never let this embarrassing display for pathetic yearning happen again.

yet deep down, he also knows that that’ll never happen. you could string him along forever and ever and he’d never do a thing about it other than cherish the moments you let him touch you.

your laugh topples over, slinging your leg over his waist to kneel beside his lifeless body, “one day,” kneeing him softly in the side, “go get changed, i’m hungry,” climbing off of the mattress, disappearing from his eyesight.

his head flops back onto the bed, sweaty and exhausted, ignoring the feel of his boxers clinging to his skin and the inevitable wet patch seeping through to his jeans.

an insatiable churning in his stomach for more, for you.

but eddie is eddie, so instead of doing any of the things that he really wanted to do, he rolls off of your bed with a sigh, shimmying out of his jeans just as you’d asked him to.

[peachylynnie]

when you have a crush on a fictional character

word count: 200-300 per lead contains: lads men x reader, established relationship, headcanons on crack, jealousy (they have beef with a fictional character), some plushies were harmed in the making of this post, lots of manga spoilers, cursing, violence, and links to images/videos (so you know what the characters look like) a/n: i had so much fun making this. it's ironic too since THEY'RE fictional. listen, it was either this or ur kpop bias (im missing taehyung like a mf). again, bc these are headcanons, i'm not saying i'm right. reblogs and comments are always appreciated! tagged: @vvintqz (another xavier headcanon) lads masterlist

xavier

gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen (manga spoilers below)

thought you would enjoy the series since the two of you watch a lot of anime together

but now he regrets suggesting it.

he regrets mentioning the manga too

since the damned character wears a fucking compression shirt in the manga

he swears if he hears the words "my glorious blue eyed king" leave your mouth one more time

he's going to slice your gojo plushie into a million pieces with his sword (he thinks shoving it under the bed is already too much of a mercy)

why are there so many "no lube, no protection" comments under every gojo instagram post?

why are you liking every single one of them?! (you like them bc it's funny, but he is NOT amused)

will glare at you so hard if you ask him to cosplay

would honestly rather cosplay lumiere

this man is scowling whenever gojo appears on the screen

arms crossed, lips pouted, hand reaching for the sword type shit

turned off the TV when that one breathing scene came on (i had to link it)

jumped for joy when he died though lmao

never has he ever been so happy to see a literal body cut in half

you're just sitting there mortified while he's all sunshine and rainbows

he wants to find the author and give him a big hug

xavier 🤝 gege #1 gojo haters

zayne

sakusa kiyoomi from haikyuu (manga spoilers below)

he honestly doesn't know how to react at first

a volleyball player who acts like a jerk, has less than TWO minutes of screentime, and wears NEON attire? (he respects his obsession with hygiene though)

actually questions you at one point

"is that your type?" "do you want me to be like that?" "are you into volleyball players?"

you have to explain it's not like that at all, you just think he's cool

that assures him a bit

but when you start reading the manga

his worries return ten-fold

not only because the character appears more

but because the character doesn't wear neon anymore and has compression sleeves (that's HIS thing)

frowns when he looms over your shoulder

and sees you screenshot EVERY PANEL he appears in (is this a thing or am i the only one)

gets so confused as to why you're referring to the character as omi whenever you call your friend who's an atsumu girlie (i'm an osamu girlie)

he's half grateful the msby black jackals (he begrudgingly learned the team name from you) haven't been animated yet

his face is priceless when he walks into the shared bedroom

and sees a sakusa plushie there

wants to freeze it with his evol

instead he just awkwardly picks it up and makes it face the wall (he doesn't want to see you upset)

rafayel

brant from wuthering waves

"YOU LIKE A PIRATE WHEN THERE'S A WHOLE MERMAN RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU?!"

he's so sulky and petty about it

bashes the character whenever he has the chance

"he's a pirate, i bet he smells bad."

"ew, why does he talk like that?"

"he can summon a giant anchor? big deal. i can summon an entire ocean."

you find this situation really funny

since the whole reason you like brant in the first place is BECAUSE he reminds you of rafayel

it's the theatrical mannerisms and flashy outfits (the sea too)

but you don't tell him that (he'll probably act more offended anyway)

whenever he catches you playing the game

he sighs dramatically and falls on the couch

head on your lap and trying to distract you from the game

"replaced by a stinky pirate, how could this be?"

"can't believe you're playing a game when there's a hot, rideable fishie right in front of you"

he's flabbergasted when you reach for your wallet

"wait, IT'S A GACHA GAME?!"

cue him running around with your wallet and you chasing after him

"no way, cutie. last time you spent like fifty dollars on identity v for some skin."

when you try to correct him that it was for a danganronpa collab (and that it was less than fifty dollars)

he snatches your phone

now he's running with both your wallet and your phone in hand

sylus

yomi from gokurakugai (manga spoilers below)

listen

you started the manga because the character LOOKS LIKE him (just hair down)

he has silver hair, red eyes, and composed mannerisms

literally when you see the panel of him appearing with a jacket hanging from his shoulders along with some slacks shoes

you have to sigh because

you are NOT beating the allegations

the "i have a type" allegations

sylus is honestly amused

see he would actually READ the manga

not even online

he would buy physical copies of it

and have it in your bookshelf

since he knows how much you HATE the pop-up ads on the website you use to read

also because he wants to see what you're so excited about

so imagine your face when you walk into your shared bedroom

and see your boyfriend in all of his gorgeous glory

wearing his signature bathrobe

a wine glass in one hand and...

THE MANGA IN ANOTHER?!

THE ONE WHERE YOMI IS ON THE COVER TOO?!

he chuckles at your dumbfounded expression before standing up and walking towards you (the manga's still in his hand btw)

"what's wrong, sweetie? i thought you liked this series, given how much you've searched for this character on pinterest."

you gulp when he pins his hand on the wall

"would you like me to wear my hair down?"

caleb

chrollo lucilfer from hunter x hunter (manga spoilers below)

see the other guys are...relatively grateful these characters are fictional

this guy actually WISHES this bastard of a character was real

why?

so he can plummet him into the ground

because why are you squealing every time this pale, grown ass man with a tattoo on his forehead and an open fur coat appears on the screen???

here's the thing

caleb was excited to start this show with you since he heard it's good

and it is!

he loves the nen system, has a soft spot for killua, and would honestly kill for gon

but now, whenever you suggest watching the show, he's grumbling and insisting you guys watch something else

he would rather die than tell you this

but one time

he slicked his hair back in front of the mirror to see if he looks like him (oh the aura loss)

he also read the manga

but only to see how often chrollo appears so he can be prepared

was excited for the hisoka vs. chrollo fight (since he's hoping the latter dies)

actually enjoyed it too since both characters used their abilities so creatively

threw his phone when hisoka lost

and punched your chrollo plushie with his metal arm

you made him buy you another one

a/n: not me exposing all of my fictional crushes. here are some other characters i considered: seba natsuki, kei uzuki (sakamoto days), levi ackerman (aot), phainon (hsr), yoru (gokurakugai), beom tae ha (tears on a withered flower), theo lapileon (my in laws are obsessed with me), shinso hitoshi, dabi (bnha), choso kamo (jjk) (my beloved), and reigen arataka (mp 100) (solely for shits and giggles).

[dollfacefantasy]

Some Extra Lessons

pairing: professor!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: professor kennedy’s got it bad for one of his students. little does he know, you feel the same way for him.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, thigh riding, fingering, edging, age gap (36/college aged), teacher/student, daddy kink, sir kink, praise/degradation

word count: 7k

a/n: hey everybody. hope everyone had nice holidays if you celebrate them. and happy new year! i'm not sure how i feel about this one but eh. i got things cooking so stay tuned 🫵. as always, thank you for your comments and reblogs. smooches <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

Mondays and Wednesdays. Those are fast becoming Leon’s two favorite days of the week. For most people, they’re probably the worst days. The first day back to work, and the other right in the middle of the week; when they’ve already had enough but it feels like the weekend is still years away. But not for Leon. Not anymore. Those days are now sacred to him because they are the days he gets to see you.

You’re his favorite student this semester by far, no one else even comes close. He noticed you early on in the beginning weeks, quiet but attentive. You would sit off to the side by yourself, always taking notes or scanning what was on the board.

It made him feel like such a perv when he first noticed his own lingering gazes and heart palpitations when you walked in the room. He tried to justify it. It wasn’t everyday he had someone like you sitting a few rows away from him, hanging on every word he said.

He’s only human, he tried reasoning. He couldn’t help but always notice the cute little outfits you wore to class, teasing just enough of your body to keep him ogling you for more. You did your hair in pretty styles and coated your pouty lips in shimmery gloss. He had to force his eyes to move around the room to other students when he spoke. His natural instinct was to keep them locked on you while his head filled with images of his hands squeezing those cute tits or his cock sliding between your shiny lips.

Despite those fantasies, he left you alone. It was wrong, inappropriate, he told himself. He shouldn’t be lusting after his student, let alone pursuing her. You were just a sweet girl trying to get an education. He couldn’t let his perversions interfere with that.

But as the weeks passed and more classes went by, he got to know you. You seemed pretty shy but not insecure. In class, you’d do your work alone, but if there was ever a lull in his lecture, you’d raise your hand to offer an answer, help him out a little. That was how he had bridged the gap between you two even though he hadn’t meant it as anything more than what it was.

He had just dismissed everyone, making a corny joke about the poor grades he’d given so far on an essay that had been due. A small smile graced your lips. Sure, the joke wasn’t that funny, but you had a fat crush on Mr. Kennedy so everything he said was a little funny.

You were scrawling down a few remaining notes before you would leave for the day when you heard his voice call your name. Immediately, your head tilted up to look at him. He beckoned you over with a wave of his hand. You were still wondering what this could be about as your hands slid your notebook into your backpack and your feet carried you towards him.

“Yes, Mr. Kennedy?” you say softly when you approach his desk. You rest your palms on the edge of the table as you await the reason behind this encounter.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you for your participation. You know, I appreciate that, and I know it’s not fair to you to have that expected of you when you didn’t sign up for it,” he begins.

“Oh, it’s no problem, sir. I really don’t mind,” you say, smiling at him.

“Sir? So polite,” he jokes with a smile of his own. The remark had come out before he could stop himself with a mental scolding about being normal with you.

Your cheeks burn, and you glance down at your shoes timidly. Your heartbeat was already faster than normal just from having his eyes focused on you alone. With him teasing you, it felt like your chest was going to explode.

This was the closest you’d ever been to him, the most you’d ever spoken to one another. Up close it was even more apparent how handsome he was. He didn’t look like any other professors you had. His blonde hair fell into his face and partially obscured one of his eyes. His shirt was undone a button lower than was probably professional.

“And I wanted to tell you that I got your email about your late assignment,” he says. He could see your embarrassment. He would have felt more guilt about causing it if you didn’t look so precious like that. He pushes those thoughts away though as you look up again, anxiety in your eyes. 

“Oh yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I promise you that it’s a one time thing. I don’t normally have that problem, and I just wanted you to know that. Didn’t want you to get the wrong impression,” you say.

He cuts off your apology with a chuckle and places his hand over yours, covering your manicured nails with the rough skin of his palm. 

“It’s alright, honey,” he says, “I can tell you’re a good girl. I don’t mind giving you a break.”

Good girl. You shift in place upon hearing those two words. It’s like a small match ignites in your belly, inching closer to the larger fuse.

So naive. So well-intentioned. That’s what he saw looking at you in that moment. He could almost see into you, see your mind trying to figure out a response, to discern if he was purposely flirting or clueless like you.

Your eyes cast down, and a shy smile breaks out on your face. After wrapping up the conversation and finishing with a soft murmur of “Thank you Mr. Kennedy,” you practically skip out of the room. A swirl of almost every good emotion you’ve ever felt blooms in your chest because of his attention.

He smirks, watching that sweet ass sway back and forth as you bound up the steps to the door. How you seem to walk with your shoulders back and chest out after the small praise he gave you. God, he was practically drooling. He imagined himself looking like a cartoon character, silhouettes of hearts in his eyes and his tongue rolled out of his mouth.

But no, this was wrong. Point blank, it’s that simple. Or at least it should be.

After that day, he relented a little. He decided that some slight teasing was harmless. But he swore it would be just that, nothing further. That small voice in his head tried to defend it. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy the attention. You’d blush and fidget in your seat when he shot you an amorous look. Or you’d smile and flit your eyes away as he’d tuck some hair behind your ear when he’d come over to your desk after class to ask if you understood everything.

And as he weakened, your infatuation intensified. These classes became the highlights of your week. You’d fantasize about the pet name he’d call you on Monday or how his eyes would roam over your body on Wednesday. Walking to class, ringing through your head was simply Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy. While you traveled home, he danced through your mind to your thoughts about him that sounded like a love song.

Even with the huge torch you carried for him, you could never work up the nerve to make the big move. Every time you’d imagine sitting in his lap, your lips moving with his, all you could think about was what if it was all in your head? All those little looks and sweet words just blown out of proportion in your mind. Could you handle baring your soul to him if he reacted with anything other than reciprocation?

These questions bothered you as the semester went on, but nothing really changed. Leon was the same way, of course, all while you were unaware. He could only imagine how freaked out you would be if he made any attempt on you.

Lately, the two of you had been spending more time together. You were staying after class more to get “additional help.” Lingering around his desk, you’d timidly started approaching him, and he was happy to give you the aide.

Today, he dismisses everyone else before waving you over with a smug smile. You grab your things and scamper down to his desk with your own happy expression. You slide into the chair he pulled next to his seat. You open your laptop and start showing him the things you didn’t understand. In reality, you understood just fine, but for the sake of being around him, you’d bite your lip and look up at him through your lashes as if you’d missed entire classes worth of information.

“I just have trouble with memorization. I get confused between the words and their definitions,” you explain.

“Oh alright,” he responds softly, eyes scanning over the screen and then finding your face, “There’s a couple of things I think could help. Acronyms, stuff like that.”

He starts explaining the strategy to you, but like always, you have to fight a mental war to stay focused. You nod along, trying your best to act attentive. It was so hard though because… he’s him. 

You scoot your chair a little closer to his to get a better view of the laptop and notice his breath hitch. Your body freezes, but instead of feeling that familiar fear of rejection come over you, confidence begins simmering inside your chest. The change in his breathing meant something, he was reacting to this too. Maybe you could do this after all.

For now, you try to act natural, moving along the conversation with another question.

“Is there anything else though? Because I struggle to attach the definitions too, not just remember the words,” you say, leaning in a little more.

He turns his head to look at you completely, eyes locked on yours. You felt like you were losing your footing a little staring into them. “Mhm. I can show you how to link the two. Break down the word to get the meanings of the parts and…” he continues on as you zone out.

His voice was huskier now, and that simmer of confidence continues to build within you. You keep nodding with every pause in his speech, your doe eyes looking up at him.

“That makes sense,” you say when he finishes, still unable to look away. Your heart pounds as you make a decision. You place your hand on his thigh. You try to act natural, as if it’s just a casual gesture of affirmation. But you can see in his eyes that he knows better.

“Yeah? Do you need help with anything else then?” he asks slowly, watching your face for reactions.

“I think so,” you say as your voice grows a little breathier.

“What is it?” he asks. He leans in a little more and you can feel his hot breath fanning over you.

“I have some more questions…” you say.

“About?” he says, eyes dropping to your lips for a moment.

Head tilting down, your foot moves over to lightly brush up against his leg. You bite your lip, looking the most timid he’d ever seen you, which was saying a lot. But you force yourself to keep going while you have this burst of hope.

“Some special tutoring…” you offer.

“Special tutoring?” he repeats with a raise of his eyebrow, looking down at your foot rubbing at his ankle. He hesitates but decides to then take your hand and stand up. “If we’re discussing something like that, we should probably go to my personal office. Wouldn’t want us to get interrupted by the next class in here.”

“Oh yeah,” you immediately agree. You grab your stuff and your fingers link with his as he leads you out of the classroom, down the hall to his office. Passing bulletin boards of flyers and other students heading to their next class, you realize it probably looks a little odd to be holding his hand, letting him guide you around. But it just turned you on more, feeling dependent, controlled.

After a while, you reach the door with the stick-on placard reading “Leon Kennedy.” Your heart pounds as you shuffle through the entrance. The office was a decent size, having a desk, some book shelves, and a small loveseat in the back corner of the room.

He slides past you and walks behind his desk, taking a seat in his chair that was clearly much more comfortable than the generic one in the lecture room. It dawned on you though that that was the only other chair in the room. There was the couch, but that was too far away from the desk for your purposes.

You approach the desk, similar to how you did all those weeks ago when this first started. He looks up at you with hesitant desire in his eyes.

“Why don’t you c’mere?” he asks.

“Ok,” you respond shyly. You drop your stuff near his desk and pad around it to approach him. Standing between his muscular thighs, you almost can’t focus from the volume of your pulse in your ears. His eyes look you up and down, more overtly than they ever had in the past. It now felt like you were hurtling towards a collision without a possibility of stopping.

After a moment of silence, he rips you from your thoughts. “Go ahead and ask your questions,” he says.

“Oh yeah,” you say, perking up a little since you had nearly forgotten about your facade of innocent curiosity. “I was just wondering if I could maybe start getting some… extra help.”

He chuckles and leans back in his chair. The maneuver gives you a better view of his broad chest and sculpturesque arms. You feel even more flustered, and you know it’s about to get worse because he obviously picks up on it.

“I don’t really think you need extra help quite honestly. Your grade is fine, and you seem to understand a lot, even the tedious things you ask questions about,” he says, a subtle arrogance on his face as he drags this out.

“No, I really think I do,” you say softly, shifting back and forth in place.

His eyes look up at you with a knowing glint. He shakes his head with a smirk as his gaze falls down to your legs that couldn’t stand still.

“With what? Like I said, even those things you pretend to not know, you obviously do. You ace every test, and while I’d like to believe it, I don’t think my advice is that helpful.”

As the words left his mouth, Leon knew he was getting into dangerous territory, leading you to a place neither of you could just return from. The rational part of his mind was slamming on his mental brakes to no avail.

You were in a similar place, your mind racing and trying to decide whether to go for it or not. After a quick moment, it was as if a bright neon sign flashes in your mind. The words telling you to try. You decide on moving forward and ignoring the other part of you that’s telling you to turn around and walk out the door right now.

You sit on his lap, straddling him with each of your legs on either side of his thigh. You look down as your fingertips drag along the waistline of his pants. 

“I just think there are other things I could learn from you,” you say, your voice shaking from your nerves.

“Tell me what they are,” he breathes. His own heart slams against his ribcage at your gesture. His natural instincts scream at him to pull you close and take what he wants, making his fantasies reality.

“It’s easier for me to show you,” you say. You felt if you had to speak anymore you might lose your nerve, so you go all in. You lean forward and connect your lips. With feather light kisses, you move your mouth on his.

At first, he doesn’t kiss back, and fear zaps through you. After a moment of shock though, he reciprocates. Your hands slide up his chest while he grabs your hips to pull you closer. The two of you go at it a little longer with soft smooches. Then he feels your tongue swipe against his bottom lip.

He pulls back and looks at you. He couldn’t do this. But God, just look at you. Your chest heaving with your heavier breathing, those plush lips wet with saliva, pretty eyes looking at him like a pleading puppy. He groans and runs a hand over his face and through his hair. His head falls back against his chair.

“Sweetheart… we shouldn’t do this,” he says, not looking at you to try and keep his resolve.

You bite your lip as your eyes widen with anxiety. “Did I do something wrong?” you say, shaky voice returning.

You try to keep it together. He still wasn’t looking at you, but you silently vow to yourself that you wouldn’t cry from the rejection. There would truly be no coming back from that. It would be hard enough seeing him on Monday as it was. If you shed any tears, you’d have to drop the class regardless of how close the end of the semester was.

“No, honey. I did. I just… it’s wrong,” he offers weakly, not convinced of his own excuse, “I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I’m sorry.”

Despite your internal promise, you felt barbs scraping at your throat with each swallow. Hot, stinging tears pricking at your eyes. You try to push it all back down, spare yourself some dignity.

“But- But don’t you-” you start, cutting yourself off to maintain your composure. You take a deep breath before finishing. “Don’t you like me?”

Leon cracks his eyes open and looks down at you. A critical error. He felt like such a dick. There you were, still on his lap, lip quivering, eyes lined with tears and full of uncertainty. He managed to make this into what he wanted to avoid, a complete mess.

“No- I mean yes, I like you a lot. That isn’t the issue here. We- I… we just can’t do this. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it go on this long,” he sighs, hands falling to your hips to move you off his lap.

Now, tears were really threatening to fall. You grab his shoulders to stabilize yourself and stop him from lifting you up. Your mind scrambles for an argument that could work.

“Why?” is all you can manage. As if you didn’t know.

“Baby, I’m your teacher. It wouldn’t be right,” he says, forcing himself to remain unaffected by the kicked puppy look you had going on, “I have to stay objective, and that’s hard enough with a cute little thing like yourself.” He smirks at the end of his statement and rubs your cheek, trying to lighten the mood.

It doesn’t work, your eyes are fixated on his belt buckle as a part of the strategy to keep your tears from leaking out. You subconsciously lean into his hand on your face though, a gesture that makes his heart melt. You just nod faintly. Think, think, think, think, you tell yourself. 

“But it won’t be like you’re cheating for me. I get good grades. It’s not like I’m fucking you to pass…” you reason.

“I know that, sweetheart, and you know that. But you have to understand. Think about it. What if people found out? I’d be risking my job, and I can’t imagine it would go well for you either,” he says softly, stroking some of your hair behind your ear.

“No one will find out,” you say. Your head tilts up so you can look into his eyes.

He immediately looks away, afraid he would cave if he stared into those sweet spheres of desire. You catch this, realizing it may be your way ahead.

“You’re a sweet girl, honey. Pretty and smart. The kind any man would be lucky to have. If this was a different situation, I wouldn’t hesitate. Not for a second. But it’s not,” he says, looking pained.

You push your lip out a little more and let one tear fall from each eye before quickly wiping them away,  smearing the warm liquid across your cheek. Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around him and press yourself to his chest. You look up at him, forcing him to make eye contact.

“I don’t want any man though,” you say quietly. You keep your stare locked on him, your eyes big and vulnerable to accentuate your point. “Please, sir.”

His cock jumps at the title leaving your lips. He sucks in a breath and tilts his head back. “Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says with a hushed groan.

You scoot forward a little bit, your hips grinding down on his lap with the motion. Your nose drags against his throat as you nuzzle his neck. You lay a kiss to his pulse point before murmuring, “Just a few more kisses? Then I won’t bring any of it up again. Pretty please.”

“Kisses…” he trails off, pondering the idea. Just a few more kisses. An obvious lie. But one he would at least pretend to believe just so he could have those sweet lips on his again. “Fine, but that’s it. You understand?”

“Mhm,” you respond without thinking. You lean up and kiss him. It’s not soft or gentle like the first time. This go is passionate from the beginning. Lips move together, and again, your tongue works to gain entry to his mouth.

The two of you make out for definitely more than a few kisses. Your hand slides up from his shoulder to the base of his neck, lightly tugging on his hair. He groans and squeezes your waist. You gasp between kisses at the sensation and grind your hips down again in response.

He grunts as he feels it, his cock getting a little stiff at the feeling. You do it again with a whimper. This time his fingers dig into your flesh, holding you with more authority.

“Be good, only a few more kisses, remember?” he grunts against your lips.

Continuing to kiss, you take a break from moving your hips and push your body against his again. Your soft tits push up against his chest. He tries to draw back, feeling cracks in his resolve as the warm globes meld with him. The backing of his chair stops him from getting too far away though. He grunts and his grip gets more firm, trying to keep you in a suitable position.

“Stay still. Think I’m giving you more than you asked for anyway. Don’t make me cut it off here,” he mumbles before going back in.

It was risky, but you felt like you had him. You felt him half hard between your legs and could feel his breath coming out in longer puffs. You do it again, rolling your hips on him, dragging your cunt over his bulge through the layers of clothing that separated you.

He growls and nips at your lip before harshly lifting your hips off his lap. You’re hovering above the growing tent in his jeans. You lightly rock them a few times with a pout, testing to see if you can get any kind of friction.

“What did I say?” he asks.

“It’s not fair, sir,” you whimper, ignoring his question.

“Oh, it’s not?” he says, maintaining his stern demeanor, “What’s so unfair?”

“Leading me on,” you huff.

Mix a bit of truth in with your seductive game, and you have him now. Real guilt and frustration swirls with the lust in the pit of his belly. He was all in now. There was no way you were leaving this office without his cum leaking from you.

“I told you what you were getting. You thought you could get away with being greedy,” he chides. He lifts you even more and puts you on your feet in front of him, between his thighs again. “Take your pants off.”

Your eyes widen. This was going to happen. Your fingers make quick work of your jeans, snapping the button and dropping them to pool around your ankles. You step out of them and nudge them to the side. He smirks up at you, standing there in your tight t-shirt and frilly pink panties. Of course, everything about you was cute.

His hands return to your hips and pull you on top of him. This time you aren’t on his lap though. You land on his thigh. You look down at the limb beneath you and then back at his face.

“Don’t play dumb now. You wanna rub that needy pussy on something, go ahead,” he says.

“But-“ you start before he cuts you off with a sharp smack on the ass.

“I don’t want to hear any complaining. You should count yourself lucky I’m letting you even do this,” he says as his hand rubs and kneads the cheek he just slapped, “Normally, I wouldn’t accept my little girl just doing whatever she wants like that. But because it’s your first time, I’m giving you a break. Gonna help fix this problem you’re having, thinking from between your legs instead of with that pretty little head.”

Your entire face heats up as he lays into you like that. You start rocking your hips, dragging yourself on his clothes thigh. You watch his face for approval as you go, but his eyes are transfixed on your lower body at the moment.

“There you go, baby. That’s right,” he says encouragingly before cracking you on the ass again, “Little faster. Wanna see how bad you’ve been wanting this.”

You do as he says, rolling your hips with more speed and force. The fabric of your panties begins to dampen with your arousal as you press onto it. Whimpers fall from your lips as you grind your swollen pussy on his muscle. He gives you some help, guiding your movements by holding your hips. You softly gasp a few times, biting your lip as you continue to rut against him.

“Look at you,” he coos. Your tits bounce beneath your t-shirt as you ride his thigh. “Been thinking about this a lot, sweetheart? Dream about this while you’re sitting in class, hm? Humping my leg like a dumb little puppy.”

“Yes,” you choke out and toss your head back. A guttural moan leaves you, and he chuckles, giving your hip a tighter squeeze.

“Quiet, babydoll. Don’t want anyone outside this room hearing. I don’t think they’d believe this is just some ‘special tutoring,’” he says.

You keep up your grinding, your pussy sensitive to the rough fabric of his pants even through your panties. He tries to help you quiet down by pulling you closer and cradling your head against his shoulder, muffling your sounds against his shirt. The cloth becomes wet with your spit as your hushed moans spill out.

After going for a little while longer, he can tell you’re getting close. It’s obvious in the way your hips sputter every couple of thrusts, how your voice is getting whinier, how your body contracts every few moments. Your hands curl into fists, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers, “Getting close, baby? Think you’re gonna cum soon?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper.

“Aw, so polite,” he teases just like he had those weeks ago, “Well, tell me when you’re right there. Gonna make it extra special.”

You nod obediently and continue working yourself to the high point. Your breaths become sharper and movements get more erratic. You feel the band of pleasure stretching inside you, ready to snap.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum, “ you ramble out.

“Not yet, you aren’t,” he says. 

With a menacing grin, he yanks your hips up and flips you around. Mind spinning from the sudden loss of pleasure, you whine and squirm on his lap. A pointless struggle seeing how your soaked panties were faced out away from any potential source of friction. Your back’s flush against the warmth of his chest. You can feel his heartbeat thudding behind you as his hands curl around the back of your legs and bring them up so that your feet are planted on his thighs. Your head slumps back against his shoulder, turning to look up at him, pleading frustration projecting from your eyes.

One of his arms snakes around your waist while the other comes up to stroke your chin with his thumb. He looks down at you, eyes full of amusement as he toys with you.

“Now that was really unfair, wasn’t it pretty girl?” he taunts.

You arch your back off his chest with another whine before collapsing against his broad form again. You nod, feeling the sparks of ecstasy dwindle within you.

“You’re a tease,” you huff.

“I am?” he mocks. 

He begins trailing his hand down your front, stopping level with your breasts. He squeezes them gently with some firm caresses from his fingers. Then he lowers his hand further and slips it beneath your shirt. Your breath hitches as he begins stroking the soft skin of your belly up to the valley between your breasts. His palm slides beneath the cups of your bra, feeling the bare skin of your chest. He alternates between each. The rough pads of his fingertips drag over the sensitive flesh of your nipples, giving them tender pinches that draw hushed mewls from you.

“So soft, baby,” he whispers with a kiss to your temple.

It felt nice, made your breasts feel heavy and achy, begging to be touched. Had your head hot and airy, unable to control the way you melted against him or the sweet noises that escaped you. But you couldn’t really enjoy that because your pussy was still throbbing, still desperately searching for the orgasm that was stolen from you. You squirm again, pushing your ass back against the bulge you felt growing in his pants.

“Please, sir. Please,” you whimper, “Wanna cum.”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against the side of your head, but his tone remains rough and commanding. “I think the next thing I gotta teach you is patience.”

Retracting his hand from your bra, he smooths it back down your stomach to the hem of your panties. His fingers fidget with one of the strips of lace on the garment while he stares into your eyes.

“You know, baby, I think you’re the tease here,” he breathes. He rubs the skin just above your panties and then moves under the fabric. His digits glide through your slick folds, the touch meandering, just at the border of giving you pleasure. “I mean, I think you know what you’ve been doing.”

“What?” you say, struggling to take in his words when you were fixated on his touches to your center.

“You act like a dumb little doll, sweetheart, but I know you’re not. I know you know how to play. Parading around in those pretty outfits, something always on your lips, always saying ‘yes sir,’” he whispers. His digits circle your clit at a painfully slow pace. He brushes over it slightly, giving you hope before flattening his hand over your cunt. You get ready to whine about the teasing before he pushes two fingers inside you.

“Mr. Kennedy,” you gasp, head pressing back further against his shoulder.

“Oh, and how could I forget my favorite, ‘Mr. Kennedy.’ But I think it’s about time you start calling me Leon, babydoll. No need to be so formal anymore,” he says as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right.

You shake your head and whimper. His palm rubs down on your puffy clit with every thrust of his hand.

“Oh no?” he teases, “You like Mr. Kennedy taking care of you, making you feel good?”

Your eyes roll back as you nod. “Mhm. Yes… s-sir,” you say.

You stumble over the word ‘sir.’ Leon catches it immediately, and he’s certain he knows why. He knows what you really wanted to call him.

“Mmm, good girl,” he purrs in your ear, seeing the way the praise pulls extra gasps from you, makes your eyes all glossy, “You’re so sweet, baby. So precious.”

He lays it on thick, trying to get you to crack and say the word on the tip of your tongue. His fingers massage your sensitive spots as they consistently slide into your dripping cunt. You bite your lip, more whimpers coming from you. You look up at him again through your lashes.

“Thank you, sir,” you say, voice all soft and dreamy as you start climbing to that high.

“Of course, babydoll. You deserve it,” he says into your hair, “But you know, I still think ‘sir’ is too professional. Makes me feel like I’m at work. Plus, I get the feeling you have another name in mind too.”

“I- I do?” you ask, looking up at him curiously. He smiles at your naivety and the way you try to get your words out around your whimpers.

“Oh yeah. I can already hear it, sweetheart. You like being taken care of, being doted on. I can see it. All you want is to be a good girl for…”

“Daddy,” you whine, your eyes squeezing shut.

“That’s right,” he chuckles. He speeds up his fingers, delving as deep as possible. A quiet squeal erupts from you, and he hushes you while kissing your cheek a few times. You try to keep your noises down even as your hips buck and your heels dig into the meat of his thighs.

“Daddy I- Daddy, Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you moan.

“Aw, but I don’t want my baby to cum yet,” he mocks. Just as quick as the release had built in you, it was gone. He pulls his fingers out of your hole, and your eyes widen. You whimper in disbelief, hips squirming as if they could find that sensation again if they were positioned just right.

“Daddy!” you practically cry.

“Thought I told you to be quiet,” he says, taking his fingers, still wet with your slick, and shoving them into your mouth. You hum around them in surprise at first, but in no time, your tongue presses against the skin, tasting yourself on him. He pumps them in and out a little, a smaller version of what he had been doing moments earlier down below.

“There you go, baby. Like I said, no complaints. Just shut that silly mind off and focus on Daddy’s fingers,” he murmurs. He watches with approval as you do exactly that, your eyes fluttering a bit as you clear your thoughts out. “Such a fast learner.”

Your pussy still aches with a need for him, but it’s more tolerable when he’s cooing in your ear while your lips are around his fingers.

“Bet my pretty girl wants to cum so bad right about now,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear.

“Mhm,” you hum as you take his fingers further into your mouth.

“Well, you know why Daddy didn’t let you cum yet? It wasn’t just to be mean to you,” he says.

He hears garbled “I don’t know” come from you. He strokes your hair with his other hand.

“It’s because,” he starts. He removes his fingers from between your lips and scoops you up. Next thing you know, your back is against the hardwood of his desk. You’re looking up at him with hazy eyes, slowly blinking as you take in his words. “I want you to cum all over Daddy’s cock.”

In mere seconds, his belt clanks against the floor, your panties are gone, his fly is undone, and his dick is out, rock hard. It’s flushed and leaking precum as he moves it to your entrance. He pushes the tip in first, teasing you by holding himself there.

You whine at the slight intrusion, wiggling your hips for more. Jutting your lip out a bit, you look up at him with a pout. “Daddy…” you plead weakly.

He shakes his head with an amused smile, but it works. He pushes the rest of his length in, filling you up completely. As he slides in, a long groan leaves him and his head tilts towards the ceiling. He grumbles something along the lines of “so fucking tight.” Your fingers reach downward to grip the edge of his desk. It felt like you were already there again, right on the brink of release.

After a moment of just taking in the feeling, he begins thrusting. He pulls his hips back and pushes them forward again. His cock slides between your walls with no resistance, the perfect fit. You were already pulsing around him, sucking him in deeper. A deep laugh rumbles from his chest.

“You're gonna cum already, baby. I’m that good?” he mocks. He thumbs your clit, sending a burst of pleasure through you that makes you clamp down on him. He grunts and starts thrusting a little harder.

You’re whining quietly, but you can’t hold back the yelp when he pinches your clit. You cum on the spot, gushing around him. You babble incoherently and buck your hips. The high was higher than any euphoria you’d ever felt. You’re panting when it’s done, but he’s still going.

He’s smirking down at you, rocking his hips all the while. “Did I say you could do that?” he asks with a light spank to your clit.

You gasp and arch your back off the desk. “No!” you whine, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“I’m sure you are.” Another spank. “You’re lucky it’s your first time, and I’m giving you a break today.”

You nod quickly. “Thank you Daddy,” you mumble.

He keeps thrusting, seamlessly going between hard and fast and slow and deep. The motions shake the desk back and forth, sliding inches on the floor each time. You feel like there’s gonna be scrape marks when you’re done.

You also feel like you’re gonna have marks from the way he’s gripping your hips, battering your sensitive pussy. You were so worked up from all the teasing that the overstimulation didn’t even faze you. Your head just droops back, hanging off the edge of the desk. 

It’s harder to keep track of how loud you’re being when you’re this out of it. He smiles at your needy whines and pulls your thighs forward so your head is back on the desk. He leans forward, covering his body with yours and grinding his hips deeper than before. His hand comes up and covers your mouth.

“You better hope no one hears, pretty girl. We didn’t lock the door,” he pants.

You moan against the flesh of his hand and your walls tighten their grip on him. He growls in your ear at the sensation before a low chuckle comes from him.

“Oh, you’d like that? I should’ve known,” he teases, “You’d love for someone to come in and see how good you’re being. What a sweet girl you are, being used by your teacher. Love for them to see all the things Daddy’s teaching you.”

A strained cry bubbles beneath his fingers, and you nod, feeling shameless about your fantasy. He nuzzles the side of your head and keeps thrusting as deep as he can. He knows you’re getting close again, and this time, he’s right there with you.

“Come on, sweet baby. Give Daddy another one. I know my precious girl can do it. You were wanting it for so long,” he grunts.

Your whole body seizes as another orgasm rips through you. Your whines and cries are fortunately muffled by his palm, but he feels your drool leaking against his skin. His own eyes squeeze shut as he gasps and moans. His hips jerk, pounding into you a few more times before he cums. He bites his lip to silence his own noises as he spills into, filling you to the brim.

Both of your chests are heaving in the end as you take in gulps of air. He slowly pulls out and pushes some of his hair out of his face. You're both half dressed, his pants down to his knees, shirt unbuttoned. You, nude from the waist down and bra shifted out of place beneath your shirt. 

The two of you stand up, you on shaky legs, and pull yourselves back into shape. You pull your panties up and follow them with your jeans while he does the same with his pants. He then falls back into his chair and takes you with him.

He just holds you to his chest for a little bit, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head. You don’t say anything either. You curl up into the affection and stroke his forearm gently.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs before squeezing you a little tighter.

You’re both so into it, not caring about anything beyond this office at this moment. That is until you catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall.

“Oh… Mr. Kennedy,” you start as you slowly untangle yourself from him and stand up, “I probably should get going. I have to meet my friend to study soon.”

He’s not happy about losing your body on his, but he smiles at your words.

“Alright, honey, but seriously. It’s Leon from now on,” he says.

“Ok,” you laugh with a nod, “Leon.”

You grab your things and give him one more sweet look before turning to walk to the door. He pats you on the ass and kisses your cheek.

“See you Monday, baby,” he says.

[callmecallmecrazy]

My Best Friend's Sugar Daddy

Back, back, back again! Big departure for me, himbos! And another big departure, gay sex! So beware. Please enjoy!

And remember, comments and likes are always appreciated!

*****

“Where the hell is Sit-guess?”

“Spain. Barcelona.”

“How do you know that?”

“It says so on his post.”

“Oh.” Amir and Neil continued scrolling through their phones.

“Well, it looks like he’s having fun!” Amir joked to an apoplectic Neil.

“In a speedo,” Neil shook his head in jealousy poorly masked as disgust.

“I mean, look at that body.”

“Yeah, but like, he didn’t used to look like that,” Neil stumbled over his words in his ill-contained anger. “He didn’t dye his hair blonde either, but people can look how they want,” Amir replied with a shrug, trying to diffuse Neil.

“I swear he used to mock those K-pop dudes who dyed their hair.” Neil continued his tirade as Amir rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“And now he did it. Neil, calm the fuck down. Jae-sung can look how he wants to look, act how he wants to act, date who he…” Neil cut him off.

“I’m not jealous of his boyfriend.” “Really? Cause, you were when we met him-” Neil interrupted the teasing, louder this time.

“And it’s Jai now, according to Instagram. J-A-I.”

“Eww,” Amir laughed and kept scrolling. “Pretty trips.” “Another beautiful day at the beach with Radden. Life is an adventure and I’m so glad to grab it. Hashtag gay boy. Hashtag beach. Hashtag beach life. Hashtag gay. Hashtag muscle. Hashtag speedo. Hashtag-” this time Amir cut him off.

“I get it Neil, Jae-”

“With an I,” Neil chipped in quickly.

“With an I,” Amir rolled his eyes to pure white as he repeated dramatically. “Is living life as a boytoy and not returning our texts anymore. Ever since he got a new boyfriend.” “Sugar daddy.”

“Whatever, I’m not interested in the merits of their relationship. I am interested in how he got that body. Rockin’.” Amir said while unconsciously rubbing his belly. He was the fat one of their little gayboy squad. Jae-sung had looked like a weightless twink while Neil at least lifted weights regularly. None of them was likely to catch eyes in a crowd, assuming anyone saw them at all. Mostly due to them all being short guys, Amir being the tallest at 5’6” and three quarters. It was what first bonded them together.

“PEDs, roids, illegal injections,” Neil flippantly replied. Amir choked back the desire to throttle Neil. He’d always been the jealous type, and until six months ago when Jae-sung disappeared off the face of the earth, the hot one in their little gay trio. And the snub from Jae-sung stung worse once they stumbled across his new instagram filled with luscious trips, hot men, and a head to toe makeover turning twinkish Jae into muscled, blond stud Jai. 

“Holy shit! New post!”

“So?”

“What do you think, instafans? Always wanted to get my eyes done and @RadXZaddy paid for it. Loving the new me!” Neil read aloud as Amir refreshed.

“What happened to his eyes?” “He got that fucking eye lid surgery. The one he always called ‘anti-chi-’,” Neil coughed in place of finishing the word. Amir stared at the image long and hard. Was it true, did he really get the surgery? Jae-sung had bitched about stuff like that a lot. Maybe he was misdirecting? Or maybe it was something else.

“It’s that fucking boyfriend,” Neil said as though reading his mind. “All of this! He looks like some fucking doll practically now.” “I mean,” Amir spoke slowly. “He’s an adult.” “Look, this guy is clearly doing something to him. This can’t be a healthy relationship.” “Let’s say I agree,” Amir tentatively began. “What do you want to do? DM him? I don’t think he’ll reply. I mean, he’s got a lot of followers who I bet send messages. And he hasn’t returned our texts.” “They’re going to Balmora’s for brunch Sunday,” Neil said triumphantly.

“What?”

“In the comments, someone asked if they were going to be at some party, but he told them they were back here and had reservations at Balmora’s. Which does not require reservations, but apparently he has gone full insta-shallow.” “So, are we gonna go to Bals for brunch?”

“I just made a reservation,” Neil cheered triumphantly. Amir almost chimed in reminding him that you didn’t need a reservation for brunch at Balmora’s but decided to not push things.

“What time are they going?” “I don’t know,” Neil shrugged.

“What time are we going?” “At opening, and we’ll drink until they arrive. I asked for a table by the gate so we’ll see them come in.” “This feels kind of icky,” Amir sighed.

“Our friend has apparently fallen under the sway of some fetishy muscle daddy. We’d be bad friends if we didn't intervene. And they have bottomless mimosas.” “It’s a date,” Neil’s eyes never left the phone so he didn’t see the concern on Amir’s face.

-----

They pair arrived at Balmora’s when it opened. Their waiter was visibly annoyed when they said they were meeting friends who were always late and they’d be waiting to order until they got here. He huffed off as the pair watched him leave.

“He’s cute,” Amir said while sipping on a mimosa.

“I think we fucked,” Neil scrunched his face and stared into the sky as he tried to remember.

“I love how you act like any remotely attractive guy we meet has had sex with you,” Amir admonished. “What? I’m being serious!” “Sure thing Neil, I’ve known you for ten years. Your sexploits don’t fool me.” They clinked their glasses together and started chatting about other topics while keeping their eyes firmly on the gate. Their flippant waiter brought carafe after carafe of mimosa as the pair drank away the time. Finally, their quarry arrived.

Radden and Jai rolled in like a pair of movie stars. Radden’s big and powerful legs caused him to strut suggestively, an oversized package in the front bouncy playfully in his tight khakis. He wore a shiny oxford shirt buttoned halfway, leaving his smoothed bronzed pecs well on display. Jai followed a step behind, rolling his hips in a strange, mincing way. He had silver cowboy boots with an oversized heel, shiny white jeggings, and a pink crop top that hid the tits but exaggerated his ripped abs and tiny waist. Both of them had several bracelets and rings on and expensive sunglasses covering their eyes. Amir and Neil stared in shock for a moment, instagram was one thing but seeing it in person was still shocking. Neil recovered quickly and stood up.

“Oh my god, Jai!” He dragged himself up and grabbed his ex-friend into a tight hug. Jai squirmed a bit before hesitantly hugging in return.

“We haven’t seen you in forever!” Amir joined in, genuinely happy to see his friend. “How have you been?”

“Oh umm, hi, girls,” Jai’s voice had a small affectation to it, a bit of high pitched squeak that reminded Amir of guys who watched too much Drag Race.

“Are you having brunch? Are you meeting people? We have seats at our table!” Neil rambled quickly. Jai seemed completely overwhelmed. A throat clear behind the boys silenced everyone.

“Jai, babe, who are these boys?”

“Oh my gawd, this is my boyfriend, Radden,” Jai introduced the older and much taller hunk with the lustful adoration of a first kiss.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Amir smiled and waved slightly.

“And we haven’t seen you since,” Neil poked his finger into Jai’s hard pec, and then did it again and again. “Those are nice tits, Jai,” Neil admired openly. Jai perked up and puffed them out proudly.

“Well, we should eat with your friends!” Radden smiled with overly bright veneers. 

“Uh, okay,” Jai sort of stuttered. “But like, I didn’t know if you wanted to.”

“I have been hogging you, Jai. I’m sure your friends want to catch up!” He sat down cheerfully and took a swig from the latest mimosa carafe. “I told him he needs to keep in touch with his friends. But young guys get so caught up in relationships. Not that I mind having him all to myself. But everyone needs some girlfriends.” Neil and Amir glanced at each other curiously.

“Wait really? Jai, did you just blow us off?” Neil frowned. Jai kind of stuttered for a bit, flitting his hands in the air.

“Okay, like, I’m sorry I got obsessed with my hot daddy boyfriend.” Even with the sunglasses on, the boys could feel the eye roll underneath. “I felt bad at first, but we were taking trips and he hired me a personal trainer and a nutritionist…”

“You hired them?” Neil questioned Radden.

“After he asked,” Radden continued drinking straight from the carafe, his eyes scanning the restaurant for a waiter.

“Yeah!” Jai indignantly replied. “We were going to hot parties and cool beaches. I didn’t wanna be the ugly guy. And then I figured you guys would be judgmental about it that I didn’t wanna tell you.”

“Just so we’re clearing the air,” Amir stepped in. “You did all of… this,” he waved his hands in the air around Jai. “Because you wanted to be hot? Mission successful.” Jai giggled.

“And you didn’t want this,” Neil grabbed the carafe out of Radden’s hands to refill his own beverage.

“I liked him before, I like him now. I mean, I’ll admit, you are fucking sexy as shit now,” he rubbed his hands lecherously on Jai’s crotch. “But mostly, I just like Jai either way.”

After a moment of silence at the table, Radden spoke again. “So, we relieved you of your concerns? You weren’t very subtle about it. Not that the booze probably helped.” Amir and Neil blushed intensely and looked down. “I, personally, think it’s very good that Jai has such devoted friends. And I look forward to getting to know you both!” He finally flagged down a waiter and ordered more carafes in addition to shots. Jai, Neil, and Amir passed around a set of sheepish apologies.

-----

One month, several parties, two weeks attending exercise classes, and one shopping trip later, Neil and Amir found themselves climbing the steps to a private jet to join Radden and Jai on a fabulous holiday. Radden invited them to some island resort across the Pacific, and the boys never even considered saying no. Sure, the past month has been kind of odd. Jai wasn’t acting for Instagram– in real life he’d seemingly embraced being hot and shallow and catty. It caused a change in the friend group dynamic; Neil and Amir were suddenly demoted to Jai’s entourage instead of being an equal part of the trio. But on the other hand, they were dragging new suitcases filled with new clothing onto a private jet.

Neil and Amir oohed and aahed over the luxury of the plane, while Jai lectured them on the differences between PJs (private jets) and his newfound preferences among them. For his part, Radden seemed content to enjoy an herbal cocktail and admire the boys. Amir noticed he did a lot of that, just kind of looked at them. Lots of people looked at Jai– that came with hotness. But Radden gazed with more intensity, the primal energy of a seasoned hunter measuring prey. Still, he had been nothing but kind and pleasant and Amir liked him quite a bit. Aside from the obvious physical differences, Jai seemed very happy and well treated and you couldn’t want a lot more for a friend.

Radden disappeared at the start of the flight. The others didn’t even notice as they were already popping champagne and talking vapidly about things they’d seen on social media. The booze flowed as they gossiped about everything. Eventually, both Jai and Neil decided to get some shut eye, leaving a wide awake Amir extremely bored before Radden reappeared.

“So what exactly do you do, like for work?” Amir, slightly drunk and flushed, saddled up next to Radden. He laughed in response.

“I’m a trust fund baby!” He offered a toast from his champagne and brayed louder. “I mean, my family owns several businesses. Lots of luxury resorts actually.”

“Like White Lotus places?” Radden laughed again.

“I guess so. They tend to be, no offense, places normal people never hear of.” “None taken.” “You’re pretty easy going. I like that,” Radden reached out and brushed Amir’s cheek, who giggled and blushed in response. Radden exuded charm and charisma on a celestial level. “I seem to have won over Neil, too.”

“Oh, he has a crush on you,” Amir blurted out.

“Really?” Radden cocked his eyebrows in lurid interest.

“Did, I should say,” Amir backpedaled quickly. “You don’t remember it, but the night you met Jai, you met us too. And Neil hit on you pretty hard. And you turned him down.” Both men giggled. They continued having their pleasant conversation, though Amir couldn’t help but notice that Radden’s eyes kept drifting to Neil. Amir hoped he wasn’t going to say anything. He’d just put his friend group back together and didn't need it falling apart again.

“You should get some rest, darling,” Radden rubbed Amir’s shoulder tenderly. Amir bit his lip and blushed more. “Might as well take advantage of all the luxuries on board!”

-----

The four of them made for a strange pairing. Neil and Amir were dressed in cute pastel shorts and t-shirts that could come from any of a dozen stores or brands. Radden wore sharkskin trousers with a pleat as sharp as the namesake’s tooth. A linen button down with one hole buttoned in the middle, the fabric flowing around him like Fabio in a wind machine, covered his chest. Jai’s hot pink button down shirt tucked into white shorts. The orange hue of his skin made the pink seem to glow on him. The lobby was open air and spacious with gorgeous employees in white trousers and shirts helping guests. Gigantic marble pillars and floors, all in white, gave the space a heavenly look. A piano tucked in one corner belted soft melodies from its tuxedoed player. Jai dragged the boys along, their mouths agape at the divine monstrosity. Radden was already headed towards check in.

The man behind the desk glowed unnaturally, white teeth and painted skin ripped with muscles underneath his staff polo. Radden turned to the others.

“You boys give me your passports and head up to the room,” he offered Jai some woven bracelets that were apparently room keys. They slipped them on without thought.  “I’ll check us in.” Neil immediately pulled his passport out and handed it over, but Amir hesitated.

“Should… is it okay to just give you our passports? And you already have a room key?” Radden shrugged.

“Yes, perks of money. And they have to scan them for check in. It’s totally normal, promise!” He flashed that award winning smile and Amir’s resistance melted away as he handed his little blue folder over. “It’s top floor, Jai, obviously. You boys freshen up!” He sauntered up the counter with a spring in his step, and all three of the boys watched his muscled ass shake from side to side in the tight pants.

“God, I wanna fuck him,” Neil didn’t even bother hiding his desire. Amir tried to shush him but Jai was already replying.

“He only tops.” “So much for you being verse,” Neil snickered.

“He’s got a hot cock,” Jai crudely replied. “And I’ve always loved sucking dick.” Amir nodded along as they ambled to the elevator. At least that hadn’t changed. Jae-sung had always been the kind of guy who’d suck off a stranger in a bathroom for the thrill of it.

The top floor was one giant suite, balconies lining every side with windows overlooking a jungle paradise and pristine cabanas where gorgeous men paraded around in tiny swimsuits while being served by dutiful staff who were tanned and toned clearly on display. Jai took himself to the master suite, while the other two slummed in smaller, though still luxurious rooms, to the side. They shared a bathroom, and Neil almost immediately walked through to Amir’s side with a swimsuit in hand.

“Just straight to a swimming suit, eh?” Amir laughed as Neil dropped trou immediately, putting his pale buttocks on display as he pulled up a camo patterned, square-cut swimsuit. Neil had a nice body, not an excellent one, but nothing to sneeze at. He obsessed over the really fit guys, the ones with huge pecs that look unnaturally glued on. Neil took a few moments to pose in the mirror, restyling his hair (which was too short to really change) and assessing his physique.

Unconsciously, Amir reached down and tugged at the modest pudge around his waistline. He was the “fat” one of their trio: Neil muscular, Jai thin, Amir fat. Although in straight world he’d be unremarkable. Still, he was the one with the baggy trunks that came to mid thigh. Which was a shame, because if he had any trait that made men stare, it was his derriere. Voluptuous, almost feminine in its curves, but distinctly masculine in muscularity. Amir wanted to look better, he always imagined what he’d look like with a trim waist to really set off his ass but he’d never really found the motivation to get there. Probably the same lack of motivation that kept Neil thinner than he wanted.

“Hey dolls,” the whimpery voice of Jai snapped him back to reality. Jai, formerly thin, was now ripped and toned and his body painted in iridescent orange that made it all pop just so. He blew a kiss in the air, which Amir thought was meant for him but then he realized he was standing in front of the mirror.

“Cute suit,” Neil commented with uncontained envy. Jai was in a hot pink speedo that rode high on his hips, sinking in the deep cuts of his Apollo's belt and clinging to his body like it was already wet.

“Jealousy’s an ugly color, Neil,” Jai quipped confrontationally. “Kind of like that suit. Kidding!” He offered the last word like a bitchy teenager who’d just been called out. Neil replied with a middle finger as he sucked his gut in even more.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Amir asked, hoping to break the tension.

“Party? Relax. Drink.” Jai said all the words dully, as if reading off a teleprompter.

“Where?”

“I dunno, around the pool probs. That’s usually where the hotties hang during the day. There'll be parties and clubs at night.” “You’ve been here before?” Neil asked, clenching his abs as hard as possible to his red faced reflection.

“Here here? No, but these places are all pretty similar. Spa, gym, pool, second pool, hot tubs, clubs, restaurants. It’s all about mixing and mingling.” Amir changed into his black suit and pulled on a loose fitting top that hid his arms. Not from embarrassment but from the sun. Neil finished dressing himself with a tank top.

“Wanna look around?” Amir offered.

“You guys take a walk. I’m gonna wait for Radden.”

“Where is he? Checking us in couldn’t take that long.” “Oh, he’s probably flirting with a manager or booking appointments. He loves a spa day.” Jai spent several minutes discussing the multitude of expensive spa time he’d experienced over the past few months, including the lurid detail that Radden always wanted a blowjob afterwards. Amir had never minded the sex talk; it was pretty normal among homos. But the way Jai described it always felt kind of… icky. Very Radden centric. Radden wants a blowjob. Radden only tops.

The pair left to explore, Neil started complaining about Radden and Jai, but Amir distracted him with the buildings, pools, clubs, and every hot man they walked past. Radden had said this was a gay resort, but Amir hadn’t expected it to be entirely men top to bottom. Every employee was a work of art. The guests ranged from ultra mega hot to merely passable, but they all exuded a level of wealth he couldn’t really begin to comprehend.

They went into a shop that sold nothing but tiny swim briefs in a variety of colors and patterns. Amir found some that look suspiciously similar to the one Jai was wearing, in a range of neon colors ordered like a pride flag. He tried to show Neil but found him outside the store.

“Goddam, look at those!” Neil’s voice rang green with envy for all to hear. He was slack jawed, staring at a dark-skinned (though Amir had no idea how natural the color was) man in an orange swim brief that made his dick look terrifyingly massive. But Neil hadn’t even noticed that. Instead, his eyes were fixated on a pair of thick juicy pecs that rose like dough from his chest, pushing out wide and broad, forcing the nipples down, almost underneath the curve of the muscle. They were so prominent and hard, Amir felt certain he could probably balance a drink on them.

“You should probably stop staring.” “I wanna touch ‘em.” Neil gasped. “I wanna grab ‘em and lick ‘em and ugh. Ugh. I want to have a pair on me!” He grabbed his own, not unnoticeable chest, like a pair of breasts and shook them for an imaginary audience. Then he deflated visibly.

“I’m sorry Neil,” Amir didn’t really know what to say.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m being dramatic.”

“And jealous.” “Is it obvious?” Amir burst out laughing despite Neil’s seriousness. He silenced himself and offered a quick apology.

“But yes, it is obvious.”

After a few more minutes of walking and admiring the resort and the men, Neil finally spoke up again. “I want a body like that.”

“Well, ask Jai. Or hell, ask Radden since he’s probably the one who knows how to get it.” He wasn’t sure how old Radden was, but he was definitely hot.

“Is that weird?” “He paid for us to come to an expensive resort for two weeks. I don’t think anything is weird at this point.”

“Why did we agree to come to a strange resort with our friend's new boyfriend?” Neil asked suddenly, giggling and shaking his head.

“Because we wanted to be featured on some murder mystery podcast?” Amir replied with a playful shrug.

—--

They didn’t see Jai or Radden until dinner. Their phones pinged with a dinner reservation notification that didn’t have an RSVP option. The place had several restaurants and this one overlooked the ocean with rattan furniture and excessive candlelight. Jai, dressed in a skintight, white shirt that looked like it chafed his nipples, offered droopy, drunken eyes and a giddy smile as they walked up. Radden also wore white, though his wasn’t spray painted on. He had a blush across his cheeks, likely from booze but seemed to carry himself better than Jai.

“Evening, dolls,” his silky voice greeted them calmly. He stood up and offered Neil a fake handshake before pulling him into a hug that pressed Neil’s face into his chest and then seated him next to himself. Amir was grateful to take the seat between his friends.

“We walked around. This place is gorgeous,” Amir answered when asked about their day.

“We went to the spa!” Jai burst out in rapturous giggles.

“Nothing better than a massage to start a trip,” Radden cocked a smirk at Jai as he spoke and Amir remembered Jai detailing Radden’s post massage routine. “Speaking of, I booked you two with some stuff for tomorrow.” He pointed quickly between Neil and Amir as he spoke. Radden reached over and tenderly rubbed Neil’s shoulders while devouring him with his eyes. Neil shyly looked away, but glanced back to see Radden glowering at him. The shoulder rubbing seemed to intensify.

Amir, eager for a distraction, chimed in. “You didn’t have to do that.” “But I wanted to!” Radden insisted with almost childlike glee.

“What, uh,” Neil’s voice broke as Radden seemingly plunged his fingers into a knot deep within Neil. It took Neil several seconds to recover. “What did you book?”

“Massage. Facials. Is there something else you’d want?” Radden’s voice tried to play soft and coy, but there was always something slightly predatory about it. He punctuated his question by tapping Neil on the chest then rolling his finger in circles around his nipple. Neil gazed into Radden’s eyes like a starstruck superfan.

“Umm, I mean, I did wanna ask you… stuff,” Neil was never one to be shy or bashful. He’d never once stuttered when complaining or asking for a refund. But he was down bad for this hunk. Neil tried to turn his face away, but Radden slipped his hand under Neil’s chin and directed his face towards his own before leaning in so close they were almost kissing.

“And what’s that?” Neil flushed red and rolled his eyes like having an orgasm. Amir looked at Jai who seemed content just sort of staring off into the distance. He’d figured his new bitch personality would assert itself, but apparently he was the passive in all aspects of this relationship.

Neil seemed to hesitate before responding, or maybe it was just the orgasmic release he was experiencing from Radden’s hands. When he finally responded, it was a moany, breathy voice unlike his normal one. “W-workout tips? Like, how, how are you so hot?” Radden’s face lit up like a kid who got their birthday wish after blowing out the candles.

“Oh, I can definitely help with that! After dinner, I’ll take you down to the gym. Jai and I already did our workout today. But I can get you set up. You’ll be absolutely amazed what good nutrition and a trainer can do. You won’t believe how quickly it can work.”

The rest of the meal was less dramatic. Radden swapped between being kissing and controlling with Jai, ordering for him and chiding him for slouching, and then being weirdly physical with Neil, brushing him or touching him or just peering into his eyes with devoted passion. 

Amir felt like he was watching it all from the outside, and he partially was. His presence at the table went almost entirely unnoticed unless he spoke up. He didn’t really mind. He’d enjoyed some cocktails throughout the day and the wine with dinner. By the end of the meal, he offered a quick goodbye as Radden directed Jai and Neil towards the gym, one arm hanging over the shoulder of each. Amir turned around after a few steps and watched as Radden shifted his hands to grope the cheek of each boy’s butt as they went.

It was weird. Really weird. The kind of weird that a less sleepy Amir might have thought about more. But right now, all he really wanted was to sleep off the travel and the booze and wake up tomorrow morning refreshed and ready.

—--

Amir had literally never felt so relaxed in his entire life. The massage removed tension he didn’t even know he had and the facial left him physically energized and on a strange emotional high. Everything just seemed really great!

He hung around the room afterwards, expecting Neil to show up from his sessions, but he never did. Eventually, he tired of waiting and slipped on his bathing suit to hit the pool. It was packed with well-to-do men with harsh six-packs, juicy pecs, and bubbly butts. Designer labels clung to their suits and shoes and sunglasses like branded grades on cattle.

This was not a place of modesty. Everyone else was wearing something tight and vibrant, usually a well cut speedo though a few did have short little legs on the sides, usually older gents. No one wore black. Except Amir, whose baggy, black swimsuit might have made him feel self-conscious if he wasn’t still high on post massage endorphins. Fortunately, he was still feeling delightfully relaxed and at ease and just in a generally pleasant mood.

He’d meant to bring a book or something to do, but instead found himself slurping down cocktails brought by attentive staff and just sort of staring at the hot men and the beautiful water. He should have been bored or restless, but anytime his mind started to wander it just fizzled out. This was good enough; being here was good enough. Being happy. His empty brained revelry ended when a dark shadow cast over him. He glanced up to see a muscular, older man in Dolce and Gabbana staring down at him happily.

Radden made himself comfortable on the lounger with Amir, cozying up like an intimate friend, and placed one hand on his thigh.

“How are you feeling, Amir?” His voice oozed sensuality.

“Good, really good.”

“I’m glad,” Radden purred while drifting his hand high on Amir’s thigh, brushing under the hemline of his swimsuit. “I want us to have fun. Whatever that means to you.” He whispered the words with unspoken meaning that made the hair on Amir’s legs stand on end.

“Yeah, thanks,” Amir’s voice, intended to be strong but strict, instead came out small and wimpy.

“Of course, darling. And you know, if there's something you want, feel free to ask.”

“Mmhmm,” Amir couldn’t do more than moan as Radden’s hand reached further up his leg, brushing his manicured fingers into the slip between his thigh and hips.

“Good, glad you understand,” he finished with a kiss on the cheek that made Amir’s heart flutter. He pulled back and turned to leave, and Amir took the moment to admire the absolute size of Radden’s package, bouncing happily in a seafoam speedo. His mouth watered uncontrollably. A part of him wanted to call out, to say something to keep Radden’s attention, but it was quelled by the arrival of a staff member, bronzed to perfection, offering him another beverage with an obscenely white smile. He took it with a drunken grin and immediately slurped down the fizzy beverage.

He stayed for hours, applying some sunscreen the resort supplied and just admiring the patrons. Jai and Radden occasionally passed through, offering small waves before talking with other couples. It got more rambunctious as time wore on, younger guys became looser and freer, flirting aggressively and dancing sexually on the men with the most expensive watches or sunglasses. They flashed brand labels he’d never heard of but found himself obsessing over, wondering what they were, where they came from, and how much they cost.

Amir was not a fancy dresser. There was a part of him, the part that scrolled social media too frequently, that always imagined what it would be like to be like that. To parade around a hot (probably chemically altered) body in designer clothing, acting carefree. Peacocking about just to show off the goods, otherwise why the hell would you work so hard to have them. D&G sunglasses, Versace speedo, some silly, expensive bracelet that looked like it came from a vending machine. He watched as one guy, unnaturally tanned with jet black hair swept backwards like an ominous tidal wave, bounced his bikini briefed buttocks on the face of a man wearing tons of jewelry who seemed absolutely enthralled. Amir could be like. Maybe. Maybe he could be the hottie with the body acting a fool for laughs or gifts or fucks.

That bizarre train of thought actually snapped Amir back to reality. He laughed, feeling like he’d probably just woken up from a silly dream resulting from too much sun and too much booze. He resolved to sober up for the night, eat dinner, and head to bed.

—--

Amir hadn’t seen any of the others since the afternoon. He got food at a grab-and-go type cafe and ate in the privacy of the room. Initially, he’d hoped to see Neil and catch up about the day. He wondered if he’d seen him passed out by the pool. But the need for sleep came quickly, and before he knew it, he’d stripped off his clothing and crawled into bed in a pair of cheap boxers he kept just for sleeping in.

Amir awoke in the dark of the night to a slamming cupboard and running water. He heard muttering from the other side.

“Neil?” he went to the door and whispered.

“Oh, um, heyyy, Amir,” his voice was drawn out and slurry, sounding both drunk and stoned.

“You alright? I haven’t seen you all day.” “Yeah,” the h sounded like a relieved sigh. “I was at the spa. It was really fun. I’m gonna go back tomorrow.”

“Wait really? What did they do?” Amir jiggled with the door but found it locked.

“Just like, a massage and stuff. It was so relaxing. I really needed it.” “Oh, okay,” Amir felt like he was talking at a club where the other person was only half hearing what he was saying. “You need anything?” “Sleep, I’m super sleepy. Just gonna rinse off and sleep.” Amir wanted to ask Neil some more questions but he found himself drawn back to his bed and fell asleep without effort.

—--

It turns out Neil wasn’t the only person hitting the spa the next day. Radden had seemingly booked treatments every day at random times. Massages, facials, cleansings, steams, saunas, manicures, foot scrubs, acupuncture, Amir kept getting notices on his phone of another booking, with easy check-in and constant reminders. And he went. It felt a little too aggressive, a little too showy. But then again, he had happily flown here on Radden’s PJ. It’s not entirely shocking that he’d throw money around like a drag queen throwing shade.

The first few days rolled together. After yet another session where handsome staff doted over him obsessively, if he didn’t end up lolling around a pool or on a beach, Radden or Jai were grabbing his attention, insisting on hot tubbing or checking out guys or dancing or eating or doing shots. Each day, he kept not seeing Neil. And while he wanted to worry, every time it crossed his mind, Radden seemed to pop up out of nowhere to distract him with another drink, another event, another shopping trip.

Despite the fact that they seemed to own everything in the shop already, Radden and Jai always took a cruise through the resort’s stores each day. And they always picked up some new designer piece, whether it was a shiny watch, tight swimwear, or just some generic piece of trash that would likely sit on a shelf for a few years before being tossed in a refuse pile. He’d watched Radden try on pair after pair of spandex swimming suits in pastel colors with floral prints that Jai seemed to ooh and aah and agonize over. Jai spent nearly an hour obsessing over turtle shell engraved bracelets that all looked the same to Amir. Each time, Radden always tried to get Amir to try something on. Amir’s attempts at resistance became more and more perfunctory each time.

“What about these?” Radden handed Amir a pair of square shaped, black sunglasses trimmed in gold around the lenses. They looked good. Amir put them on, admiring how they framed his face, the harsh lines perhaps a bit too bold for his square face. He turned his head, admiring the cut of his jaw line when he noticed the sides had the most ostentatious logo he had ever seen. D&G embossed on a golden plaque attached on each side. It was utterly, completely, fabulously ridiculous. He wanted them so much.

Amir couldn’t even hide his desire. “I mean, I like them,” he tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably. “They’re probably really expensive.”

“Nothing’s expensive, babe,” Radden winked as he whisked the glasses off Amir’s head, an AmEx Black already in his other hand. They were bought and back on his face within seconds.

He couldn’t stop admiring his reflection in the mirror. Amir liked it. Really liked it. Liked it on a level he hadn’t even imagined liking something before. All the sun and spa treatments had given his dark skin an almost ethereal glow, like spit-shined leather. Soft and supple but strangely masculine. He felt imbued with a strange confidence, a need to sort of strut, to puff out his chest and stick out his butt and hold himself with all the attitude of a needy social media influencer.

After that, it was a little easier to let go and just sort of flow. Radden wanted him to add tanning sessions at the spa and soon his skin had taken on an artificial sheen that matched Jai. He refused to hop into a swim brief, but accepted designer shirts and sandals. Soon, he was misting himself with aromatic colognes from brands he’d never heard of while sipping on champagne, real champagne, and gossiping about celebrity plastic surgery.

And still, Neil was nowhere to be seen. He heard him, each night, in the bathroom, and could see the remnants, opened toothpaste and used floss, of his activities. But he hadn’t come face to face in days. And that should have worried Amir. Really it should.

He knew that it should. But he didn’t care. He was having fun. Real fun, the kind of fun you see people on TV having. Everyday was just another party. Every man was a stunning stud with bulging biceps and hard cut abs who flounced and flirted without a care in the world. More and more, he spent afternoons chatting with overly muscled hunks with jaw implants and waxed bodies who giggly happily about getting fucked and who only worried about the calorie count of a cocktail and who was paying attention to them.

—--

Jai started taking him to an early morning aerobics class where swarms of beautiful men with perfect (and likely plastic) jaws and chins shoved their nuclear tanned muscles into shiny lycra that hugged each and every curve and striation as though desperately clinging onto a lifeboat. Mister Giant Pecs, the one Neil has drooled over, was shirtless, wearing peach color tights that shimmered in the morning light and did nothing to hide his massive bulge. Another stud with huge blond hair and an unending, dopey smile was shoved into a yellow leotard that sunk between his ass cheeks and wasn’t big enough to cover his pecs, instead the straining fabric nestled underneath his pecs. With the thin straps rolling over his shoulders, it looked like a window into his chest.

Amir wanted to die. Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one who was struggling. Sweat, scented with poppers and booze, seeped out of every man as they strived to cut the teeniest bit of fat or water from their bodies to be just a smidge hotter, make the waist just a bit smaller, make Daddy just a bit harder.

But the atmosphere of the class was infectious, cotton candy in event form. Despite the grueling workout and the aching pain, like he’d had teeth extracted from his muscles with no drugs, everyone was happy. The instructors had the wild enthusiasm of theme park guides, every man in the class giggled and groaned with each new movement. Vapid pretty boys constantly encouraged him to push harder, stretch further, breath deeper. And he did. Each time a little better, a little harder, a little tougher.

He had never felt so much pain and so much pleasure simultaneously. The dopey fun and physical arrogance on display made him horny and competitive. And before he knew it, he was prancing to a Britney song alongside the rest of them. Afterwards, he asked Jai to sign him up for every additional class they had.

—--

Another day, another shopping trip, Radden clenched Jai’s speedo clad buttocks with one hand while keeping the other tightly wrapped around Amir’s waist. The physical contact, the almost pathological need for it, from Radden had initially bothered Amir. But now, it just was. That was Radden. He was gonna hold and touch and rub and kiss and there was nothing Amir could do to stop it. Nor did he want to anymore. It felt like getting attention from a movie star.

Without warning, Radden shoved baby blue briefs into Amir’s face, rubbing it in like a chloroform soaked rag intent on knocking him out. It was stretchy and sexy. But what really caught Amir’s eye was the waistband. He’d seen it dozens of times on internet “models” and obscenely wealthy trophy boys. The repeating Grecian pattern of Versace. God, he wanted it so fucking badly. 

But there was no way, no power in heaven or earth, that could convince him to put such a tiny thing on. There was no way he was walking around this palace of sin with fat rolls hanging out while everyone else looked like they were sculpted from the world's most perfect marble by the most talented hands to ever carve stone.

Just looking at the suit made him kind of hard.

He wasn’t sure what it was, specifically, about that waistband that infested his mind so effectively. Perhaps it was the almost vulgarity of it, the prominence of the label, the idea of having a brand instead of a personality. He loved it. He hated himself for loving it. And that kind of made him love it more.

But he would not wear them. Not today at least. Radden insisted on something, anything other than his basic black suit. In the end, Radden made him try on a pair of floral print jammers that had the illusion of being loose while still fitting tighter than his underwear. The flowery pattern (a sort of shimmery orange on a blue suit) seemed to glow on his body.

“Those workout classes are paying off,” Radden purred in his ear like a sex deprived vixen. Amir knew, knew knew knew, this was messed up. He might not have been fat per se, but there had definitely been a noticeable ridge around his waist that should, at this very moment, be spilling over the side of the elastic waistband, flipping it upside down underneath the roll.

But it wasn’t there. He wasn’t cut. There were no visible abs or even hints of. But his waist, while thick and stocky, formed a smooth line from his rib cage down to his hips. The suit fit fine. Not the aesthetically superb bodies all those other boys had. But he honestly felt so fucking sexy in it. His skin radiated and glowed, his face looked light and heavenly. Wrinkles and lines that should have dotted his face had seemingly vanished under the skin treatments and massages. His skin looked weightless, ageless almost. Vivacious. He barely even processed Radden buying them.

Radden made him wear them out of the store. His previous suit was left in a trash can. Amir felt different. It made him want to walk differently, to feel the tight fabric glide across his thighs and sink into his ass crack. He rolled one leg over the over, causing his buttocks to sway behind him. And he giggled happily when Radden’s rough hand possessively groped his spandexed ass.

—--

He paid more and more attention to the vapid himbos. No longer just admiring their asses or envying their pecs, but really focusing on their behavior. They were all so bouncy, there was no other word to describe it. They moved with a spring in their step, every time they got excited they seemed to jump up and down which caused their massive pecs to tremble and their gorgeous asses to shake like a rap video. Every movement oozed sexuality, their confident struts or rolling hips and puffed out chests were obvious. But it was the little things, the way a guy bent over, forcing his ass out just a bit too much, or how another seemed to just touch everyone whenever he spoke, that drew his attention. There was a need to show-off and a need for validation, each reinforcing the other.

Speaking of, one of those hyper muscles himbos, this one with a gravity defying quiff and a lime green speedo containing an ass that shook gloriously with every movement, was rubbing a giant black dildo between his pecs while two older men groped him lecherously. The himbo seemed to be having the time of his life, titty fucking himself to ogling onlookers. And Amir had to admire, those were the nicest pecs he’d ever seen. Huge, round, high and tight, luscious hard mounds of striated muscle that would never be contained by a shirt or jacket or sweater, permanently on display. Which is surely the point. No one spends that much time, money, and energy making those perfect meaty globes without wanting to show them off to the world. It made him think of Neil, ever envious of perfect pecs. In fact, this dude would probably make Neil cream himself on site.

But as he got closer, he couldn’t help but notice that despite the bronzed, smooth skin and blissful smile, that face was awfully fucking familiar.

“Neil? What. The. Fuck?” For a brief moment, the mental fog Amir had been under thinned. The image of his friend, formerly uptight and always on the verge of arguing, titty fucking himself in broad daylight and laughing like a moron snatched him fully to reality.

“O.M.Geee! Amir, like, yay! Where have you been?” Neil’s voice had never been deep, but it had always contained a sort of rough edge, like he was moments away from shouting. But now it was airy and empty, Loud but soft, like it couldn’t ever be angry or sad. “Where have you been?” “The spa!” Neil licked his lips lasciviously to the delight of the older men. Neil giggled in response as one of them groped his pecs aggressively.

“What happened to you?”

“Umm, I dunno. Radden set me up with some super fun treatments! Because, like, he said I was being so fun and he wanted me to have fun!”

“Listen Neil, something-”

“Niko, Radden wants me to go by Niko now! Isn’t that, like, so fucking cute!” Yes, it was fucking cute. This version of Neil was halfway between adorable and cum-on-sight-able. His now long hair was unnaturally blond and voluminous. The face was the same, just prettier somehow: the cheekbones a bit stronger, the jaw a bit more defined, the eyes a touch wider. The body, on the other hand, was absolutely astounding. It wasn’t even like Neil had improved. No, this titan’s body looked like a gymnast on steroids. The waist was minuscule, the pecs bobbled out in front of his body like floating balloons. His thighs were thick and veiny, seemingly like they should move mountains as he marched, but instead slipped over each other with dainty precision.

“Listen, Neil-“

“Niko, baaaabes!” Even the correction has such an air of passive joy that Amir almost forgot what he was saying.

“Niko,” Amir continued, the name slipping through gritted lips though it tasted like silk as he said it. It felt good to say. Calming and soothing. Fun. “But like, Niko… what happened?”

“When?” He bounced his pecs obliviously while sipping on a neon green drink with a curly emerald straw.

“When you, umm…. With Radden?”

“Oh!” Niko's voice perked up when Amir said his name and he couldn’t help but notice a stiffening in Niko's speedo. “Yeah we, like, talked. I told him I wanted to be hot. And he helped! He is sooooo sweet!” Niko giggled, like schoolgirl giggled, and then grabbed Amir’s hand and placed it on the curve of his pec right over his nipple. And then bounced them happily, causing Amir’s fingers to rub over his nipple as Niko’s eyes rolled back into his head.

Amir was taken aback. He and his friends were many things, but not sexually active with each other. It seemed gauche. And many a queer groups had broken up over break ups and jealousy and hook-ups. But the most shocking thing about it was how not Neil’s type Amir had ever been. Neil liked guys who looked like they walked off the cover of a fitness magazine, plastic sheen and all. But now, here he was, forcing him to rub his nipples while making orgasm faces with no shame or embarrassment.

It was hot. So fucking hot. And for a brief moment, that hotness was all consuming.

But then Radden arrived. Somehow, Niko became even bubblier, his sexual aura spiking to eleven as he ran and jumped into the much taller man’s arms and proceeded to make out like two guys in a porno. Again, soooo hot. But then Amir remembered Jai and wondered how he’d feel. But there he was, another pink speedo covering his essentials and pink sunglasses over his eyes. He had a snotty smirk on his face as he sauntered up, drawing the hungry eyes of men nearby.

“Listen slut,” Jai commanded. The pair stopped kissing but Radden still held Niko, whose arms and legs were coiled around Radden’s body. “I’m the boyfriend. You’re just a side piece, got it.”

“Babe, that’s, like, soooo hot!” Niko might have twirled his hair if his hands were free. Jai looked satisfied at the response.

“I’m the queen bee. You’re just a fun, dumb fuck doll. Fun and dumb,” Jai’s words had all the venom of a teen queen.

“And I need to be filled with cum!” Niko responded obliviously. Jai just laughed and agreed. 

“I need a refill. We’re going,” Jai ordered Niko, who nodded like a golden retriever. He took one last gooey kiss from a satisfied Radden before bending over backwards, his legs still around Radden’s waist, and then performing a backwards handspring to right himself. Radden swatted his ass as Jai grabbed his hand and pulled him away. They minced towards the bar together, swishing their hips to show off the prime real estate to the pleasure of everyone watching.

A smug Radden wiped his face and watched lecherously as the two sauntered off. Amir, on the other hand, immediately turned and hustled the other direction. He slipped past a trio of bangable bros in tight suits who were playfully grabbing at each other’s crotches. Through the lobby, past the shops, swiping his bracelet for the elevator and immediately heading upstairs to his room.

Weird things were going on in his head. Things and thoughts that didn’t make any sense. Watching Nei-Niko… Niko make out with Radden was weird, right? Radden was Jai’s boyfriend. But Jai didn’t care. Maybe they had an open relationship? That would at least make sense. His brain kept dancing around the actual questions he wanted to think: what the hell had happened to Neiko. Neiko. Ne-ne-Niko.

Ugh, it made his head hurt. Surely, the booze didn’t help. Nor did the sun, the workouts, the protein, the long nights and endless debauchery. He felt very lightheaded and not like he had the previous days. His head felt dizzy and uncomfortable, not the effervescent fluffiness that had been slowly turning his brain into cotton candy. He felt like vomiting or maybe passing out, but then a very strong set of arms wrapped themselves around him and pulled him into a muscular body so tightly he almost gagged on the scent of Armani cologne.

“Feeling alright, doll? You ran away so quickly, I knew I needed to come check on you,” Radden whispered in his ears. Amir couldn't tell if he wanted to push off or snuggle in. He settled for doing neither, simply looking up to stare into his wondrous eyes. He reached down and cupped Amir’s face like Hamlet holding a skull. “You are so very pretty. You know that, right? All three of you, honestly. You just need a little touch up.”

Amir wanted to fight back, to squirm and pull away, but he also wanted to sink into Radden’s eyes and voice and just let himself dive into his muscled body like some romance novel slut.

“Jai had those pretty, pretty lips that just NEED to be on a dick. And Niko, well, those pecs are the stuff of dreams and now he can live out his fantasies of being a cum whore in peace. But you, you dear, sweet, Amir, you have a glorious ass. And I bet a pretty pink hole under there that is just quivering to take me.”

Amir bit his lips and looked at Radden with eyes made of melting butter.

“You’re going to look so hot taking my cock and squealing like the little whore I know is inside you.”

“But first,” Radden pushed Amir back, analyzing him coldly. “You need to get some work.” Amir tried to speak up but Radden shoved a thick finger in his mouth, silencing him. “Nothing major, nothing you don’t want. Just a hot body, bigger muscles, really turn that ass into a work of art. And tousle the hair, fill the lips, you know I think a big bottom looks great with a bit of a pelvic tilt. Not too much, don’t want to ruin a prize bull. But you’ve got those beautiful features and some bronzer wouldn’t hurt. No, no, Daddy’s got it all worked out. You just need to hit up the spa starting tomorrow.”

Amir didn’t speak, lips sucking on Radden’s finger in surprising delight. He tasted salty and musky and his brain couldn’t help but obsess over what his cock would taste like.

“It’ll take a few days, you know. But don’t worry. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. And your friends won’t even notice you’re away. After all, they’re just dumb cumsluts now. Don’t you think that’s so hot?”

There wasn’t room for disagreement. Amir just nodded, eyes wide as he stared into Radden’s brown orbs.

“Good. Remember, Daddy knows best. And starting tomorrow, you’re gonna do what Daddy says.” He ruffled Amir’s hair affectionately and pulled his finger out of Amir's mouth with a loud pop. “Now, get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day, beautiful.” Amir’s brain felt mushy and odd, like the grey matter burst into rainbows and glitter that made it impossible to do anything other than smile and nod. He stripped off his wayward bathing suit and threw himself into the plush comforts of his bed with nary a thought in his head.

—--

Amir awoke to a pair of gorgeous men in tight, white uniforms knocking on his door, offering him a fluffy robe and slippers, before ushering him down the service elevator straight into the spa. The air smelled like honeysuckle and buttercream while an army of men of all shapes, colors, and ethnicities kept busy tending to their work.

He stripped at a locker before being directed to a sauna where he spent a few minutes soaking in the heat before being put under a cold shower and then moved to a steam room filled with overpowering oils. His body was scrubbed, then he swapped between hot and cold tubs before returning to a massage table where a man of unknowable ethnicity treated his body like unmolded clay and pushed and prodded his muscles into a new shape. Then facials and more scrubs, microneedles embedded into his face, and then a man who looked like a circus strongman pulled and twisted his hips in strange ways that made his back pop constantly.

He spent most of it wearing noise cancelling headphones that played soothing chants backed by repetitive static. The only interruption came when he was given orders: turn over, stand up, sit down. No one ever explained what was happening, only what to do. Which was fine with him. He felt an overwhelming calm echoing around inside his skull, making it feel as though his brain wasn’t present at all.

The day ended with Amir strapped down on a table while a collection of long needles were inserted throughout his body, along the edge of every major muscle group. And then they began pulsing. Tingly, nearly painful, waves of electricity spasmed through his body, each moment feeling like he’d just worked out his muscles to their fullest, only to immediately be forced back into the exercise at a higher weight or greater intensity. All the while, he could do nothing except twitch and drool as the physical exertion overpowered what little remained of his brainpower.

Before he knew it, he was again wearing a robe and slippers, consuming recovery beverages the texture of mucus, as the techs took measurements and prepared him for tomorrow. He stood up dizzily and was gently escorted back to his room by hypervigilant attendants.

The process repeated over several days. New treatments were introduced. Sterilized needles were inserted into his lips and along his jaw and chin that injected strange, stiff gels that made him feel like he’d been stung by a bee. His hair was wrapped in foil and subjected to treatments under an old fashioned hair dryer while he was allowed to watch porn videos of hot guys looking rapturous as they got railed by older men.

Soon the massages were followed by waxing, where each tiny little follicle of hair anywhere below his neckline was evicted from his body with resounding glee from a babyfaced technician with red hair spiked sky high. The muscle twitch needles followed again, sending larger and larger pulses of electricity through every inch of fiber in his body, thrusting his pecs and pulling his lats and crunching his abdominals over and over again. It hurt tremendously, but like a gym burn, like he’d just exceed his limits and immediately set new, higher goals. The needle placement slowly changed, further apart as he muscles responded to the stimuli and sustenance, as they grew into a bulky, masculine form like a gymnast in his prime. Those sessions were always followed by intense stretching where his legs were slowly pressed into perfectly straight lines, front to back, side to side, and over his head.

The back popper happened more frequently, moving up and down his spine, seeming to snap things into place. It kept feeling deeper, like the change happened further inside the spine, altering his stance outright. He began spending extra time right at his hips, pushing his buttocks back and forth in a small thrusting motion. His thumbs remained firmly pressed against Amir’s butthole the entire time, creating a not unpleasant sensation throughout the process.

The chanting began forming into words. Fun words. Things that made him want to have fun. To be fun. To not worry or think or stress. Instead, he focused on how good it felt to be pretty, to wear pretty clothes, to make men horny just by looking at you. God, he wanted men to get hard just seeing him! Wouldn’t that be the life, to be so fucking sexy that hot guys just threw themselves at him? And he’d want them all. Want to take them all. Want to be filled by their hard rods past the point of sanity, until he was just a writhing and moaning mass of muscles and rainbows.

He was constantly hard. And leaking. And harder muscles made his brain leak, too. Pesky thoughts and fears just drained out as his personality got polished and shined and plasticized. Nothing deep, nothing interesting. Surface. Hot. Fun. Dumb.

—--

Time became meaningless. His days were just cycles of being tended to in one way or another. It felt right. It felt like what he deserved. Another massage, some lotion, hair styling, and then suddenly things changed. The attendants took him to a large room with a circular multi-panel mirror. Andd he saw himself for the first time.

He was GORGEOUS!

Every inch of his dark skin, denuded of hair, now shone in amber brilliance, luminescent, obviously artificial, and perfectly smooth. No human on earth naturally had this color. It was a testament to tanning and skincare, a proclamation that the person who cultivated this amber glaze obsessed over their physical appearance on a level most people could only dream of.

Amir’s face had been cute, charming even, in the right lighting. But now it would stop traffic. His cheekbones rode high and wide on his formerly blocky face, giving it some harsh angularity that put runway models to shame. His lips were fuller, pinker, and hung ever so slightly open, a constant seductive pout. Bushy brows had been plucked and laminated into dark blades, inviting people to stare into his wider eyes whose brown color looked a bit lighter now, woodier with fantasies of forest greens amidst the bark. And on top of it all was bleach blond, pure white hair, mostly swept back but a few loose curls dangled just above his left eye.

But that was just the start. Amir’s body, previously thick and slightly flabby and devoid of any visible muscle, now shamed Apollo. His lats spread wider than his chest, reshaping him into a stunning male hourglass, thick, wide shoulders that cascaded into meaty pecs before tightening into hearty, natural abs– the kind of abs that existed for more than vanity, they suggested that he could bend or twirl into positions unimaginable by an average man.

All of that was nothing. Below his abs, his body ballooned out into the most delicious, curvy, round, perky, prominent, aggressively sexual ass he’d ever seen. This ass wasn’t a dumptruck, it was a fucking pickup truck because men would be riding in the back constantly! It was perfect! Huge and high and muscular with just the perfect level of fleshy bouncy that shook and wiggled with every step. It belonged on the Mount Rushmore of asses, a thing of such phenomenal beauty it just begged to be used.

And the thought of being used, of being fucked until dawn by some aggressive mega-dicked top with the stamina of a breeding ox just filled him with such passion, such lust, he couldn’t help but bite his lips like a vixen hoping to entice men. He wanted, no he needed, to be seen. Not as a person but as a sexual object. 

God it made him feel so hot.

He stood, utterly transfixed by the myriad of flawless reflections that cooed back at him with ravenous, sexual hunger in their eyes. His hips tilted forward slightly, a little curve in his lower back, that caused his ass to jut out a bit further, a bit higher, a bit more enticing, like a fleshy bait to lure cocks to his hole. Never, in his life, had he stood in front of a mirror totally naked and felt nothing but admiration for the form before him. It had no flaws, no worries. There was nothing to improve. He looked like an Olympic gymnast with a great plastic surgeon who made millions of dollars on OnlyFans doing nothing more than exposing his body and offering sultry looks.

“Well, well, well,” the deep, breathy words came from behind Amir. He turned to see Radden, in a leopard print Versace speedo and a delicate linen button down left open to show off his pecs and abs, clapping softly as he admired Amir’s new form. “You look perfect,” he purred. Amir might have blushed, but instead he just posed, pushing out his glutes more and puffing up his lips as though offering a kiss. Radden strut over, the leopard print covered package bounding from side to side in a mouth watering and hole wetting display. Amir looked up expectantly as he approached, eager for more approval.

Radden didn’t say more, he just took in the sight of Amir’s altered form, playing with the curls in his hair and patting his muscles as though inspecting a product. He cupped Amir’s balls with one hand, gliding his fingers across their newfound smoothness in gentle appreciation. His other hand nestled up inside Amir’s gigantic booty until one finger was firmly planted on his butthole. Amir bit his lip and released a lush, porny moan that he would never, ever have made before. But now it slipped out as naturally as blinking.

“Good boy,” he whispered erotically into Amir’s ear. Amir whimpered submissively in response and then his face twisted into a lustful smirk as he began rolling his butt, slowly snaking Radden’s finger inside his hole. Radden let him continue for a few moments, proudly baring down on his latest conquest before pulling off as Amir released a squeaky whine.

“Not yet,” Radden put a finger over Amir’s lips. “We still have work to do. Now,” he turned the technicians with dispassionate professionalism. “Is everything as ordered?”

They confirmed, laying out a list of detailed improvements Radden had commanded: lips, cheeks, muscles, glutes, brain, personality. Amir just stood silently, not paying attention, as the details of his own transformation were laid bare. He did catch a few words, specific measurement of pelvic tilt, gluteal curvature, reformatted personality type. But none of that was very interesting. Radden, looking so serious and business-like, was more fun to watch. Despite being dressed in a showy speedo, he still commanded the room and the men in it like a ruthless CEO acquiring a rival company. Amir got hard again.

“Now that that’s settled,” Radden returned his attention to Amir. His voice dropped the harsh tones he’d addressed the help with and adopted the cloyingly sweet tones he used talking to his boytoys. “We just have a few more things to do, okay baby?” Amir was given a collection of jewelry, a turtle embossed bracelet, a dainty little silver chain, and a tiny stud in his nose. With grandiose flourish, as though introducing this season's debutante, he produced a tiny pair of baby blue fabric with a Grecian design on it. The Versace swim briefs from earlier. Amir clapped giddily and reached for them, but Radden shushed him and insisted on dressing him like a doll. He stepped into the swimsuit and Radden slid the tight fabric over his smoothed and enlarged legs, forced it backwards over the luscious rump of his titanic ass and pressed his cock and balls downwards as he allowed the waistband of the suit to snap around his tiny waist.

Amir creamed himself immediately.

“Now that’s my beautiful boy,” Radden cooed. “Oh, and one final note. Since you are such a good boy, aren’t you?” Amir nodded eagerly. “See, you’re almost perfect now, so pretty, so stupid, so obsessed with cock and cum that you’ll treat your body like a holy temple dedicated to the pleasures of homosexuality. And that temple deserves a good name, doesn’t it? Not Amir. That’s so boring, so lame. You wanna be fun and simple and stupid and hot, right doll?”

Ami was so hard, despite having just cum, that not a single drop of blood was pumping to his brain. His vision blurred and a bystander could almost hear the whirring clink of broken joints as Amir’s mind stopped and slowed and ceased. His face nodded in agreement.

“Good, cause I think it would be soooo hot if you were named Rio. R-I-O. Fun, right?” Sparkles, rainbows, a sun exploding into atoms, nothing could quite explain exactly what happened inside his head at that moment. Only that the words broke something, or rather fixed something, permanently.

“Tell me your name,” Radden’s command was strong but seductive, a dom coming home to roost.

“I’m Rio!” Sparkles, rainbows, cotton candy exploded inside his head.

“Again.” “I’m Rio!” Sweet, charming, hyper sexual, and completely and utterly devoted. Rio, freed from Amir and his body and brain, shifted just a bit. A bit cockier, looser, gaining full comfort in his new form and function like a prisoner freed from shackles and now standing upright.

Radden walked next to Rio and grabbed his glutes aggressively. Rio forced them back into his hand with a subtle moan. Radden slapped his glutes and watched them jiggle.

“Now, we’re gonna go back to the room and you’re gonna show me that pretty hole I paid for. And I’m gonna fuck you so hard that anything left behind in that pretty head of yours is gonna melt. I’m gonna turn your hole into a cavern. My cock is going to become your God and salvation.” Rio’s eyes fluttered and his heart raced at the promise of a good fucking. He needed it, like fundamentally needed it, as much as he needed water and food. Without another word, Radden slipped the D&G sunglasses over Rio’s eyes. The perfect finishing touch for a trophy.

Radden’s hand pawing as his newfound ass, Rio paraded through the main lobby like a hero from war. He could tell people were looking at him, knew they were devouring his ass with their eyes, knew they were envying Radden’s huge hand on his bulbous mound. It felt fucking great.

They were both hard and leaking by the time they got the room. Briefs were stripped off unceremoniously, though Radden didn’t bother taking off his shirt. He hoisted Rio up and fireman’s carried him into the master suite. Rio didn’t spend a second taking in the massive luxury of the room, superior to the practically pitiful room he had by comparison. His entire brain focused on the massive erection riding up from Radden, the purple head bobbing several inches above his bellybutton and dripping with semen.

Unceremoniously, he flipped Rio on his back and pushed his legs over his head, forcing them straight and insisted he keep the toes pointed. All the body reshaping Rio had undergone meant that it was completely natural. Radden admired the hole, praising its color and shape, and then with brutal efficiency, plunged his hard cock inside.

There was nothing romantic about the sex, no emotions, just need. Rio wasn’t his boyfriend after all; he was just a hole. And Radden pistoned in and out of him like a beast releasing years of pent up aggression as only sex can. For Rio it was more sparkles and rainbows. A cock, a huge cock, thrusting inside of him and treating his body like a fleshlight was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. He didn’t touch his own dick. He didn’t need to. His prostate was what mattered now; the top’s cock is what mattered now. He’d cum when they did, once they dumped their thick loads inside him and left him sweaty and leaky and ready for more. Rio would always be up for round two. And round three.

It ended quickly but ferociously, with Radden releasing a primal cry into the sky, veins bulging across his neck as the spasming rod inside Rio sent them both into orgasmic bliss. Rio’s own cock blasted out and launched his cum directly into his mouth. He let out a stilted moan as he slurped down his own cum with glee.

—--

Everything was soooo much more fun now. The boytoys got up, worked out, looked hot, and tended to Radden’s sexual needs. Otherwise, they did whatever they wanted. They’d flirt with other hot himbos or rich old men. They got shitfaced drunk and grinded their sweaty bodies on dance floors. The trio even ended up in a gymnastics contest, donning leotards and doing flips and cartwheels with relative ease, although their exaggerated physiques kept them slightly off balance.

Radden kept them color coded for convenience: pink for Jai, green for Niko, blue for Rio. Everyday he picked out matching swimsuits with flashy designer labels prominent and loud. Rio’s collection of high-end sunglasses grew daily as Radden shopped with him, happily choosing the perfect pair for his newest toy.

They still had the spa daily, though now the whole foursome went together and got their facials and massages. Jai still sucked Radden dry after a good massage, but Niko was on hand for a tit fucking while Rio kept his bussy clean and lubed just in case Radden needed to blow off some steam. And of course, any other guy who caught his fancy. Rio’s sex drive had turned from mild to insatiable. He LOVED it. But he never felt satisfied. Within minutes, he’d be ready to search for another dick, another load, another guy to flirt and flounce with.

Rio was hot as fuck, horny as hell, dumb as a rock, and could not have been any happier.

They’d have to leave soon, unfortunately. Rio briefly thought about his passport, what had happened to it, but that thought soon dissolved into nothingness. Radden would take care of anything important. His purpose wasn’t to stress or worry. That was for ugly people. Himbos like him were supposed to be hot, fun, horny, and available. And he loved it.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hi! I love your interpretation of the yan batfam so much bdnfbfkjfnd I was wonderong how you think Dick and/or Jason would react to a rather compassionate batsis?

She's definitely not on board with their obsession but she can understand where their coming from and gives them like ACTUAL compassion.

Ik you said Dick enjoys having a positive image in front of others most of all his younger sister, so how would he react to her seeing his flaws but still, being kind? Jason strives to be "normal", so much so he spirals sometimes, but like what would knowing/experiencing genuine closeness (not pity or false pretenses) change?

Idk if either of them would redeem their bad habits, but am curious to know what being truly seen and accepted would do to them, especially by someone they care about so much. The bats can have their walls pretty high up after all

A/N: sorry about the late responses. I've been out of it the past few days.

context dick context jay

Okay so when you are dealing with yanderes... you are dealing with extremely unstable people. There are so many ways thus could go but here's just one

Dick

Maybe your compassion makes Dick chill out a bit with his unhealthy tendencies. I think initially he'd still be uncomfortable and bothered that you can see right through him. You can see all his flaws and you don't revere him like the others which is bad. It will still anger him and he'll try manipulating you into loving him like everyone does at first.

A heart to heart with him could work. You acknowledge you know he's crumbling and has really horrible coping mechanisms but that doesn't mean that you don't love him. That you respect him even more because you see just how much passion he puts into everything that he does. It isn't his fault he craves so much validation when he had the upbringing he had but he doesn't have to pretend to be someone he's not to please you. That even if he doesn't smile as much or be selfish sometimes that you won't love him any less. You give him a space to be authentic with you with no judgment.

"erm,,,okay. I'll keep that in mind."

He's a bit taken back by it and doesn't know how to exactly process what you just said. I've mentioned before that he doesn't exactly know how to just be himself because for most of his life he was always being someone that others needed.

He's still on guard for a while. He will dip his toes in the waters by maybe not smiling as much with you or rescheduling your hang out session to go out on a date just to see your reaction. Did you truly mean it when you said he was allowed to be selfish? He was fully expecting you to hate him but seeing just how unbothered you were made him go...oh!

I think this shifts his obsession with you. He's still very much yandere but i think he's much more child-like ? I mean Dick still is obsessed with you and all that jazz but before, he wanted to be the best older brother/father figure. His happiness was dependent on how much you needed and revered him. But now you're becoming his safety blanket for when he's stressed, tired or upset. WIth you he can just lay on your shoulders without speaking and you won't even mind. He can be kind of assholey or dark and you will understand he's just in a mood and what he says never leaves the two of you. You won't take away your compassion or love based on how he acts...the first non-transactional relationship he's ever truly and it's pretty great. He finally feels like a brother and not like he's playing house anymore.

Don't get me wrong, he's still your older brother who gets on your nerves but there's just this mutual appreciation there that lacks with the others.It's clear to the others that he loves you just a bit more than the rest. When it's movie/game nights, he will allow you to sit it out or not tag along to restaurants. He's very protective and defensive over you. He doesn't feel as much of a need to do all that stupid crap with you because if he wanted your time, he could have a peaceful moment on the rooftops with you instead.

Jason

Hmm..i think Jason will just always feel a bit outcasted. There are plenty of people who do care about Jason in the comics but it's hard to relate to someone who's been through what he's been. It's just so unique to him. He knows you don't truly understand what it's like to have spirits of the Lazarus haunting you in your sleep. He knows that you cannot feel the pain of being replaced by someone you're now forced to see as a brother.

When i wrote my last piece a few people took it as me saying the reader found Jason to be odd. Really what it was is that Jason put those thoughts into his own head because he internalized the joke because of his own insecurities. The reader was perfectly fine with Jason being a little off...it made sense as he would've just come back from being dead and is trying to find a bit of normalcy.

It's funny though because while he's trying to be "independent" it's painfully clear he's still very much attached to you and is still unknowingly mimicking you.

I think though if reader sat down with Jason and explained he doesn't need to change or be "normal" because you love him the way he is, maybe he will relax a bit. But i think there would always be voices in Jason's ears telling him he needs to be perfect. My version of jason is around 20-ish year old who is a bit emotionally stunted and disoriented because he's just coming out of the pit. After a few years of being integrated back into the family he'll understand that you actually do love him as a brother and he serves a great purpose even if that purpose doesn't look the same as Dick's.

[mimiamorewon]

obsessedneighbor! Takuma

♡ཱ. — MDNI + reblogs appreciated

cont: fem! reader, oral (f receiving), mutual masturbation, semi-public sex + risk of being caught, Nanami is your dad (non-incestual), slight voyeurism/exhibitionism undertones WC: 2.3k

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who was first introduced to you through a friend, not knowing you were related to Nanami. 

You, who just happened to be his age.

And live right across from him.

And be his exact type. On paper.

…That same night he’d prayed to the gods.

You never thought much of Takuma at first. To you, he was just some guy with a quiet demeanor. But when he first introduced himself to you, you had no idea he was connected to Nanami. That was the night you learned that Takuma had been living right across from you for a while and, unbeknownst to you, had already started making himself familiar with your life.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who happened to live right across from you, & would intentionally leave his window open just to get glimpses of you either through your window or when you occasionally stepped outside to take out the trash, pick up the mail, or take the dogs on walks in the early morning light.

It wasn’t intentional at first, but over time, Takuma realized that he was captivated by you. The way you carried yourself. The way your laugh sounded from your window when you chatted with your friends. And before long, he found himself observing you more than he cared to admit.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who quite literally memorized your entire schedule on accident from how much he watched over you.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, whose mind would wander during those quiet moments when he’d catch sight of you, once catching a glimpse of you in the skimpiest shorts ever through your window, and hasn’t stopped thinking about it since. It had been so fleeting, just a flash through the window, but it was enough to drive him insane.

The image of you in his mind stretched out in front of him, the curve of your thighs, the delicate arch of your back… it almost haunted him. His attempts to capture the moment in a photo were futile, but he didn’t really need one. His imagination did all the work for him.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who has the wildest fantasies planned out in his head. The ones that invaded his mind at night. The ones he couldn’t shake.

He’d imagine you riding him with wild abandon, kissing his neck as you moved on top of him. His hands gripped his cock, trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly as he imagined the sweet praise you’d whisper in his ear. How you’d beg for more.

But Takuma wasn’t just some pervert staring at you from afar. No. He took the next step. He convinced his family to invite yours over for dinner. It was the perfect opportunity to get closer to you. To see you in a different light. Not just as the girl he watched from a distance.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who was now sitting across from you at the dinner table, doing his best to play it cool, but every time your gaze flicked in his direction, his heart skipped a beat. You simply had no idea how badly he wanted to reach out and touch you, to pull you into his arms and whisper all the things he’d been thinking about for months.

The conversation flowed casually, Takuma joining in occasionally, but all he could think about was the way you moved, the way your lips parted when you laughed, and how your fingers lightly brushed the edge of your glass. He caught himself staring too long a few times, quickly averting his gaze before you noticed.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who couldn’t focus on a single word of the conversation anymore. His thoughts clouded by the overwhelming desire to have you. To touch you. To make his vast fantasies a reality. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d follow you around the house all night if it meant getting a moment alone with you.

He’d been waiting for this moment. Now that you were so close, he could hardly control himself.

As dinner went on, Takuma kept glancing at you, wondering if you noticed the seemingly one-sided tension building between you two. When you finally excused yourself to the bathroom, Takuma’s heart raced immediately. He waited for a moment, his breath catching as he realized the opportunity he’d been waiting for had finally arrived.

He stood up quickly and quietly, his movements so sudden that he almost tripped himself, his pulse pounding in his ears as he slipped out of the room. The hallway seemed endless, and his steps were heavy as he approached the bathroom door, barely containing himself as he stood outside.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who was now standing on the other side of the bathroom door, silently debating if he should go through with it. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the handle.

When the door creaked open, your figure caught him by surprise. Standing there, unaware, the soft glow of the hallway light casting shadows over your face. His chest tightened.

“Takuma?…” you asked, surprised.

He didn’t respond right away, his heart hammering as he stepped forward. His hands gently cupped your face. “W-what are you—”

“Tell me to stop,” he snapped, cutting you off. His tone stern and his face way more serious than usual.

You didn’t.

All you could do in that moment was look up at him. Why hadn’t you stopped him? You didn’t know your damn self. Maybe it was the fact that you were already sexually frustrated, but the desire in Takuma’s eyes was unforgiving. It set a fire inside your stomach, heat trickling from your core and up to your cheeks.

Your silent obedience took him by pleasant surprise, slightly hesitant before pulling you in for a kiss that was far more desperate than he had intended. His lips were hungry, demanding, and when you didn’t pull away, Takuma’s hands immediately slid down to your waist, pressing you into him.

He backed you against the cool bathroom wall, his lips leaving yours to trail down your neck, his breathing shallow. “I couldn’t wait anymore,” he murmured, his fingers fumbling to unbutton your blouse, “‘m sorry,” he let out in between kisses.

You didn’t push him away. Instead, you found yourself just as eager, your hands tangling in his long brown hair as you kissed him back once he came up from your neck, deepening the kiss with a hunger of your own that surprised you both.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who was now trembling with anticipation, his hands shaking as he undressed you, his breath hot against your skin. “I need you…” he whispered, as if the words alone would somehow make this all feel real.

He thought that he might just lose control at the utter thought of you. The way you smelled. The way your body responded to him. It was enough to make him dizzy.

But just as Takuma was about to lower himself, his hands reaching for the waistband of your pants, you heard something. Footsteps approaching.

You suddenly heard three heavy knocks come from the other side of the door.

You both froze.

“Everything alright in there?” came Nanami’s voice, calm as ever.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, whose hands remained on you, now hesitating to travel any further. His eyes met yours, wide with realization, but he said nothing. You both stood there for a moment, frozen, before you adjusted yourself hurriedly, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

“Y-yeah,” you croaked. “…Just a minute!” you called out, barely able to keep your voice steady.

Takuma’s eyes remained on you. The thought of being caught in this moment excited him even further, his cock slowly rising. “Shit,” he whispered, still trying to catch his breath, his heart pounding. His body was still desperate.

“All right, sweetheart. Just checkin’ on ya’.” As the heavy footsteps receded, Takuma exhaled a shaky breath, but the tension between you both hadn’t gone away. His face was washed with a mix of frustration and desire.

You hesitated before speaking, your voice barely a whisper. “Takuma, what the hell…?”

He shook his head, now barely looking at you. “I… I don’t—”

He stopped, his words trailing off as if he was trying to collect himself. All you did was look down, getting a good look at Takuma’s erection, swallowing hard.

He was embarrassed, to say the least.

Was this the plan? Yes. Did he think he’d get this far? Absolutely not.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who was now dropping to his knees on your bathroom floor, kissing down your stomach, mouthing “sorry” against your skin even though nothing about this felt remorseful.

His fingertips slipped beneath the waistband of your pants with trembling urgency, peeling them down along with your underwear, his breath already catching in his throat. He looked up at you once, eyes glazed and almost reverent. Like he was about to worship something sacred.

And he did.

He dove in like he was starved, like he’d been dreaming of this exact moment for months (he had), and now that he finally had you in front of him, taste and scent and warmth and all- he wasn’t going to waste a single second.

His tongue flattened against your folds before you could even brace yourself. It was a greedy, slow lick, from bottom to top, as if he needed to memorize every inch of you. You jolted, hand flying to his shoulder for balance, the other threading through his long, brown messy hair.

He moaned into you like he was the one being touched. The sound low and guttural, the vibration sending heat shooting up your spine. His grip on your thighs tightened, thumbs spreading you open further, face buried like he couldn’t get close enough.

“F-fuck, Takuma,” you whispered, breath stuttering.

Your knees buckled a little, and he followed the movement, mouth never leaving you. His nose bumped your clit, then his tongue circled it, slow at first. Torturously slow. Then faster and more focused.

You could tell he did some sort of research by the way he calculated each motion that landed on your pussy.

obsessedneighbor! Takuma, who did, in fact, look up videos of how to make a girl cum a few nights prior.

Each flick of his tongue pulled another breathy sound from your lips. Your back arched against the bathroom wall. His hands gripped your thighs like he was holding himself in place, like if he let go, he’d lose his mind.

But what you didn’t notice at first, what you couldn’t see from above, was his other hand slipping down between his legs.

He unzipped himself with shaking fingers, freeing his cock just enough to wrap his hand around it. The relief was immediate. His palm was already slick with pre cum, and the moment he started moving short, desperate strokes timed with the way his mouth worked between your legs, he knew he wouldn’t last.

Not like this.

Not when you sounded like that.

Not when your fingers were tangled in his hair, tugging him closer. Not when your thighs trembled around his ears.

Your body jerked when he sucked harder at your clit, and Takuma’s hips jolted forward into his hand with a strangled moan.

He was shaking. Fully trembling. And when your head dropped back and you gasped out his name, just once, ragged and breathless, he came.

Right there on the bathroom floor.

His forehead pressed against your stomach as his cock pulsed in his hand, hot and sticky between his fingers, cum spilling across his knuckles in messy spurts. You followed suit shortly after, Takuma continuing to lick you through it, cumming in his mouth as he didn’t let a single drop get wasted. It was like his orgasm only made him hungrier. Like he could stay there forever if he could.

By the time he pulled away, his face was flushed, lips swollen and chin wet. His breathing was ragged. He looked up at you- dazed. And more pussydrunk than he could’ve imagined.

You both just stood there for a few seconds, languor as the shared heaving from your orgasms slowed down eventually. The bathroom lit soft and quiet, and the sound of silverware faintly clinking in the background from the dining room.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who was now sitting across from you at the dinner table, head slightly bowed, hands tucked safely in his lap, face still flushed with something he hoped didn’t look as obvious as it felt.

He hadn’t spoken a word since you both returned.

Neither had you.

But you could feel his eyes on you. Sneaking glances when Nanami wasn’t looking. Watching the way you lifted your glass, the way your lips pressed against the rim, the way your leg bounced faintly beneath the table like your body hadn’t fully recovered from what just happened.

You could barely even bring yourself to look at him, really.

Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew if you did, you’d remember too clearly the way he looked on his knees. The mess on his hand. The fact that you were still sore, sensitive and wet.

You stabbed a piece of food with your fork a little too hard.

Across the table, Takuma cleared his throat softly and reached for his water. You watched, from the corner of your eye, the way his fingers gripped the glass. His knuckles were still slightly pink from scrubbing them too hard in the bathroom. You smiled to yourself.

And then, your foot brushed his under the table.

Just a small nudge. Accidental. But he flinched like you’d shocked him.

You finally looked up.

He was already staring.

His lips parted slightly, and his gaze dropped to your mouth. You shifted in your seat, biting the inside of your cheek.

Nanami sighed contently beside you. “Nice to have a quiet dinner once in a while.”

You almost laughed.

obsessedneighbor!Takuma, who had your taste still on his tongue and the way you moaned his name echoing in his head, nodded politely.

“Mhm,” he replied, voice slightly hoarse. “Real… peaceful.”

You didn’t say a word. But under the table, your foot pressed against his again. This time on purpose.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

[dixonsgirl93]

Reminiscence

“I’ll tell you something.” You mentioned, breaking the momentary silence in the car. “I sure miss Dominos pizza.” Your mouth watered at the memory.

It was clear as day, sitting in your living room with a dominos pizza box next to you on the sofa, tv remote in the other hand. The lighting was dim since it was the evening. With nothing to do the next day and no worries about being eaten.

“Nah, Pizza Hut is better.” Daryl grumbled next to you. He was leaning against the window with his elbow on the door, seemingly without a care in the world.

“What?!” You sat up and faced him as much as you could strapped in.

He turned to you and, upon seeing your expression, tried and failed to hide his smirk. “What?” He echoed.

“Pizza Hut??” You shook your head dramatically. “We’re not friends anymore, Daryl.” You promptly turned away to prove your point.

“Don’t tell me yer breaking up with me?” His tone was dry with a hint of sarcasm. It was a good job you were faced away because you almost laughed at that.

“I definitely am.” You turned back to him, feigning anger. “How dare you cheat on me with Pizza Hut!”

He smirked at you for a moment, probably waiting for your smile to break loose too. “Fine. You win. Dominos is better.”

“You’re just saying that-“

“Neither of you are right.” Rick piped in. “It’s Papa Johns.”

You and Daryl turned to Rick in the driver’s seat, bewildered.

“What?!” You and Daryl said together, looking at each other and your laughs finally broke free.

“Knew that would work.” Rick muttered to Michonne in the passenger seat.

“Yeah.” She chuckled, looking back at the two of you as your laughs died down again.

Silence filled the car again but this time the air felt lighter.

“I never got pizza all that often.” Daryl broke the silence again and you felt the others stiffen, knowing Daryl didn’t open up often. “But when I did it was always Merle who ordered it. He’d have the meatiest, spiciest pizza he could and I’d have pepperoni.” He was quiet for a moment, reliving the moment. “He’d always put on this show that I could never follow, didn’t care for it but it was one of those moments where everything felt normal. We felt like a, I don’t know, real family.”

Nobody responded straight away, rather letting the words and images they conjured to sink in, imagining Daryl and Merle sitting on a couch, each with a greasy slice of pizza each. For some reason, you struggled to picture it.

“Where did he order from?” You asked.

He smiled a bittersweet smile and said without looking up, “Dominos.”

“He had good taste in pizza.” You teased, playfully nudging him.

“He would have gloated so much if he heard you say they were better.”

“Doesn’t matter either way now, though.”

“Because he’s gone?”

“What? No because we can’t…order…pizza.” Your voice trailed off, realising how idiotic you sounded to be prattling on about pizza when Daryl was still mourning his brother. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. You’re good.” He smiled flat-lipped at you, looking a little uncomfortable at the turn in conversation.

“You know, we could probably make some pizza…” Michonne said it carefully, as though wanting to give both of you a gift of sorts without wanting to disappoint you if it turns out you couldn’t. “We have bread and tomatoes in the farm… we could probably make cheese…”

You leaned forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I appreciate that but you don’t have to worry. We were just reminiscing.”

[cherryredstars]

Hello cherry!!! Could you do a scenario where the reader is really hypersexual? But was too afraid to ask Miguel to do it multiple times a day and then one moment she can't take it anymore and begs for him to dick her down while Mig is just really suprised but also very happy and reassures her that he likes that she is so into him? Thank uuu in advance! 🩷

Pairing : Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Slight Oral Sex, Female Masturbation, Sexual Touching, Penetrative Sex, Slight!Mean Miguel

A/N: She’s a long one…

Unedited

He leaves your body with that satisfying hum.

Light sparks of aftershock run through your body, shaky legs threatening to close around his head as he laps the remaining release dripping from you. You sigh happily, fingers running appreciatively through his hair before he pulls away with a toe-curling suck at your clit.

“Thank you, Miggy.” You giggle, feeling that tension leave your body as it buzzes.

Miguel gives you his crooked smile, mouth still glistening with slick before he wipes it away with the back of his hand. “Anytime, cariño.”

You giggle as he flips you over, sliding up your discarded bottoms and patting your ass in his usual signal that you’re good to go. You smile at him over your shoulder, elated now that the consistent throbbing between your legs has ceased and you kiss him one more time in thanks.

You carry that happy, satisfied buzz for the next two to three hours. Humming to yourself as you go around the house doing your tasks without a single distraction while Miguel works in his little home office. Everything seemed to be going fine, tasks being completed without a single stumble. But you can feel that sharp dive approaching as the lingering effects of your last orgasm dies down. Then, you find yourself back in that disoriented, far-away state. Your eyes unfocused and staring down nothing as a discomfort settles between your thighs. Your clothes feel too tight on your body, and a rush of images of Miguel tearing them off rush into your head.

You feel guilty, sitting down and rubbing your thighs together in hopes of it going away. You don’t want to disturb Miguel again, and you bite your lip as you try to suppress an annoyed groan. You’ll have to take care of it yourself, then. Not like that ever works. No matter how long you press a vibrator to your twitchy clit or how many fingers you use to work your entrance, something is wrong. You’re too aware of the sheets sticking to your skin, or your fingers get too tired, or your orgasm just doesn’t build.

It leaves you more frustrated than anything, tears building in your lash line because it all just doesn’t work. You feel more uncomfortable than before, the stimulation at least providing something despite being unsatisfying. You don’t want to disturb him, but you don’t wanna be like this for the next few hours before Miguel decides he’s in need of a meal or a break. There is no guarantee that he’ll be done anytime soon or even have the energy to indulge you afterwords.

Absolutely defeated, you sniffle as you make the way into his office. You knock hesitantly before opening the door, calling out his name with a pout stuck on your face when he looks up at you and smiles softly. Your feet drag as you make your way to him, climbing into his lap once he makes room for you. He can feel your hot breath on his neck, and he wraps his arms around you as he strokes your hair.

“What’s wrong, huh?” Miguel murmurs, ignoring the way you slowly grind against him. He knows what you need, finding it amusing that you’re trying to sneakily work him into a state of excitement.

Instead of answering him, you whine into his neck. His chest vibrates under you as he chuckles, his hand wrapping around the nape of your neck and tugging you away so he can see your face. Your eyes are glossy, and he rubs at your lower eye a bit harshly to collect the build up of water at the corners.

“C’mon, princesa, use those big girl words.” He coos, thumb rubbing over your fluttering pulse. The look you give him is pitiful, and he smiles a bit wider.

“Need you.” You mumble begrudgingly, rolling your hips against his.

Miguel’s smile twitches, and he moves in one fluid movement as he lifts you up and makes room for you to lay on his desk. His hands dance around the waistband of your pants, his fingers running up and down the length of it teasingly.

“Such a needy girl, hm?” Miguel hums, slipping his hand up your shirt and caressing the smooth skin. You squirm under him, and his other hand squeezes your hip in a warning. “Stay still now.”

You try your best to relax into the hard wood of his desk, breath stuttering in your lungs as he drags your shirt up to reveal as much skin as possible without taking it off completely. You watch fascinated as his fingertips explore your smooth skin, eyes darkening the longer he looks down at you.

He makes slow work of removing your clothes, uncaring as he discards them to the floor and stuffs your panties in his pocket. You hold your breath as his fingers run over your thighs, slowly spreading them and revealing your glistening folds to him. He hums in appreciation, using both of his thumbs to further spread them apart to examine your irritated clit.

“Poor thing,” Miguel coos, running his finger through the slick coating your skin. “So worked up and for what?”

You whimper, stomach caving in on itself as he plays with your wetness. It clings to his fingers, little silky ribbons breaking as he moves along. He can feel your heat pulse under the pads of his fingers, and he meanly pinches your twitchy clit. He chuckles at the choked sound that fumbles from your lips.

“So needy…” He mumbles, giving your fluttering cunt a sharp slap. Your back arches, and Miguel grabs your ankles and pulls you flush against his hardened crotch.

You eye it hungrily, seeing the strain it puts in his pants. If you were to lift your hips the slightest bit, you can feel it poke at your folds. The idea makes you salivate, but not as much as watching Miguel fish his aching cock out of his pants. There is a thin shine of precum smeared over the tip, probably staining the inside of his pants. His cock slaps against your stomach as he lets it rest, the weight burning against your skin.

You can feel a small bead of precum dropping from his tip and onto you, mouth watering for a taste. However, his cock goes further away from you as it drags down your body as Miguel steps back. His head nudges your clit, kissing it. His hand wraps around him, thumb just under the swollen tip as he lightly teases your clit with small slaps. Arousal leaks from your hole, and Miguel is quick to smear it over him.

“Open nice and wide, hermosa,” Miguel whispers almost to himself, slowly pushing into your tight entrance.

He groans as your hole parts to swallow him, suctioning around his length. You keen under him, and he shushes you before he bottoms out. The crown of his dick presses into your cervix, massaging the opening with every twitch. The feeling of finally being filled after wanting it so desperately brings tears to your eyes, and you shut them to savor the feeling.

You’re pulled from your tranquil moment by a harsh thrust, jolting the desk and you. You gasp as you grab onto Miguel, nails digging into his forearms as he holds your legs around his waist. He does it once again, grinning at the way your mouth falls open as a tide of pleasure washes over your body.

“Gonna give you want you need, don’t worry.” He coos, his hips beginning to piston in and out of you at a steady pace.

A wobbly ‘okay’ and a barely recognizable head nod is all he gets from you, mind already foggy from the way he forces your walls to part over and over again as he feeds your cunt his cock. Your gooey walls spasm repeatedly around him, thanking him for each thrust. It makes him growl, seeing the pure, primal need your body has for him. He rewards you with fast, tight circles on your clit that cause your legs to lock around him and tiny cries to spill from your lips.

The burning build of a release bubbles in your stomach, and a series of whimpers and moans are your best bet at warning Miguel. He takes little notice, already aware by the way your cunt practically milks him in a plea to not pull out. With a few whiny breaths and sharp pinches to your clit, your body shakes as you come. Miguel coos gentle praises at you as he tries to get his own release out of you.

Your body buzzes so intensely as you climax, unsure if the overwhelming warmth in your body is because of satisfaction or the fresh load of fertile seed Miguel pumps into you. Either way, it leaves you melting into his desk as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm. You lay there with your eyes closed, lazy smile on your face as content fills you. This was exactly what you needed, and you sigh happily as Miguel slowly massages your skin.

You open your eyes slightly, whining when he picks you up and takes you to straddle his lap as he sits in his chair. It jostles his softening cock inside of you, and you make a noise of discontent as you snuggle closer to him. His large hand holds you flush against him, rubbing over your heated skin slowly as he gets comfortable.

“Just sit still and relax, yeah? Got work to do still.” Miguel murmurs into your skin, littering light kisses to your shoulder and neck as you yawn. You tiredly nod, sinking into him.

You’re fine as long as the buzz remains.

[ronearoundblindly]

Can-can I ask something? For Steve and alpine in the companion animal au?

Steve obviously cat sits for bucky which means a lot of hours doing not much of anything unless he’s called into the office (heh) so he’d probably be spending some of that time drawing alpine don’t you think? So when he’d be drawing her as a cat, does reader like him doing this or does he try to do it while she’s sleeping? Would she catch him doing it? and then what about drawing reader as a human? Would he ask reader or would he do it surreptitiously on the sly? I’d like to think he’d have pages and pages of it, especially considering he takes all those beautiful photos of her on his phone. Not sure if you want to make this in anyway in the direction of spicy but I leave that up to the writer’s discretion!

Ok, OK! What if Steve has you get involved in the art with him though??? He gets non-toxic fingerpaints--or knowing him, he just squishes up some berries for you to dip your paws into--and lets you walk all over the paper. He'd use whatever pattern came out of it to create an image, like maybe he grinds up spinach or whatever and has you pat down a bunch of 'leaves' for a landscape he's working on 😍. Right, anyway, that's not what you asked, whoops! Warning: they finally KISS!

Artist's Discretion, part of Companion Animal (see previous or series)

Cats are freaking hard to draw. You're constantly moving around, even adjusting in your sleep, so he does quick sketches to get the general position right. Steve then spends a lot of his downtime filling in the details by memory.

He's annoyed he can't capture how soft your fur is in the pencil strokes, but since it's soothing to sketch, he keeps going.

THEN he learns your secret, and you only see the notebook with him, not open, not anymore. You never figured out if Steve wondered at your compliance to spread your paw out sometimes, because doing what he asked made him look at you so fondly. (Eventually, Steve gets bossy, once he knows you can follow his instructions to pose, but that's another story about how you're both annoyed and flattered that he wants to draw you a lot.)

There are pages and pages, but you only see them by accident.

Bucky and Steve have taken you out to a restaurant, chumming it up, talking about the good ol' days, when they both clock a riotous group of girlfriends loudly cackling at their booth. The women are drinking, having a good time, telling stories with their hands, and boy, do their hands swing wildly.

"No, no, I'll tell you exactly what she did when he said that--"

Bucky can see she's about to stand, oblivious to her surroundings. Steve can see the server with a tray stacked high raising over a patron's head to get to the table catty corner. Like lightning, they branch out and connect, narrowly averting disaster without a single drink spilled or laugh lost, but Steve's fast move knocked his notebook to the floor.

That's how you see. There are pages and pages of you, a very specific part of you.

You hustle to get the book replaced as the boys accept appreciations and apologies. If Steve notices, he says nothing, but you have an idea.

See, Bucky bought you this lovely dress, bit stretchy and billowy, so that if you transform by accident, you can wiggle out easily (or put it back on quickly). As the check is paid and you get up to leave, you tug the sleeve off of one shoulder, revealing that stretch of landscape Steve’s been drawing on repeat.

You aren’t positive it’s because you did that, but Steve walks back to Buck’s apartment very slowly. Bucky gets impatient and goes ahead while you hang back with Steve.

There’s always been chemistry. You’ve always known you are attracted to him. What you aren’t sure of is if Steve’s interest in you is merely fascination with something strange or true attraction.

Steve is kind and affectionate, but…maybe he’s just comfortable with you…maybe there’s a bit of pity for how you ended up meeting.

He chats about the weather, his eyes landing everywhere except your exposed décolleté, his hands fidgeting, passing his notebook back and forth between them.

Too lost in thought about those pages, you’re not processing his words until just outside the front door.

“—so scratch me or something if this is unwanted, okay?” Steve finishes, turning to face you.

He’s close. Close enough that his downturned gaze perfectly aligns with that bare skin on display.

Did he…is he implying what you think?

But there’s no time to think before you’re being nudged by his nose to tilt higher and an inch to the left, lips catching yours as shock parts them. Your eyes shut. You only feel the gentle graze of Steve’s hand trailing up your sleeve, his fingertips somehow gentler still as they map the curve of your shoulder, clavicle, and neck.

He’s unpracticed but unhurried, testing the waters of touch, never diving in until he’s sure. His thumb catches beneath your jaw, applies pressure to keep you right where he wants you, and releases after moving his angle. Three inches to the right. Even closer. So there’s barely a breath to pass.

Steve’s arm snakes around your waist, the worn leather corner of his sketchbook digging into your lowest rib because he is too lost to notice how his weight presses against you.

Forget chemistry. This is combustion, both of you freely tossing fuel on the fire, heat licking your face, tears forming in otherwise dry surroundings, and coming back for more.

Senses heightened, you and Steve startle at the door flinging open, caught lead-handed in the act by an utterly unfazed Bucky.

Everyone stares for a long moment until Buck squints and simply shuts the door again.

Steve chews his bottom lip and steps away (but not far). “Not…unwanted then,” he mumbles.

You’re struggling to swallow your grin and compose a response.

“GoodNiGHT, punk” comes rattling through the wall.

Smile breaking free, your eyes lock with Steve’s.

“Very, very wanted.”

He beams, shyness taking over once more, fiddling with the notebook you now sport an imprint of on your back.

“Okay…” his cheeks are flushed a hotter red than you’ve ever seen “…okay then. Good. I’ll…”

Steve awkwardly shuffles back into your space, kissing your cheek, sweet and innocent as always—well, almost always.

“I’ll see you later.”

🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈

[Next Part: Codename: Agent Alpine]

[multi-stays]

Whipped Cream

Paring: Bf Bang Chan x Gf FemReader

Genre: smut 18+, fluffy

Summary: Channie is awoken with a craving for some Whipped Cream but has nothing to eat it with……….. or does he?

Note:Happy Thanksgiving Y’all

✨💜warnings below the cut💜✨

_________________________________________

Warnings: oral sex!F receiving!, food play, straight kinky, smut 18+, reader is smol, is set after Thanksgiving

Proofread:still no sorry, if there’s an error comments are appreciated, only because I just thought about it Happy Early Thanksgiving 🍁

P.s I know there’s a few days still til Thanksgiving but it’s close enough, right? WHO cares

Walking over to the fridge wasn’t something you’d ordinarily be doing at 3 AM but knowing there was leftover pumpkin pie with your name on it made you dying for a slice.

Sneaking out of bed wasn’t an easy task, you knew better then anyone that your boyfriend Chan was a light sleeper. If you were caught you’d be forced to share and never would you hear the end of how tired he was. Being as quiet as possible you snuck out, making sure you closed the door behind you so the fridge light wouldn’t disturb him.

A few floor boards squeaked and the clock on the wall chimed causing you to jump. You were in the clear, you got out your pie and squirted a generous amount of Whipped Cream on top. Sitting back in your chair you enjoyed the sweet flavors of the pie Han made with you on Thanksgiving.

Only a few minutes had passed and the pie was already gone, thinking about how long it took you to make, it seemed pointless for how easily it disappeared. You adored every second of it tho, all the members at your place hanging out, eating to their hearts desire and not caring about their idol image.

Channie decided it was a good idea to get together every year on thanksgiving and come to an agreement about what to write on a thankful leaf to have as a “personal keepsake”as he so calls it. Some of the members thought it was a great idea, being able to look back and see what they all were most thankful for that year, others not so much.

Deep in thought you didn’t notice your boyfriend creeping up from behind you. His little face peeked at you from where he stood in the hallway. You turn to face him surprised by the way his face looked, awake and not like someone who had just been sleeping.

“I thought you were sleeping” you got no response from Chan, instead he walks over and put his arms around your neck slipping his hands down to your boobs, cupping underneath them like they were hand warmers.

“Something wrong?” You ask with a giggle but still no response, he pulls you from your chair and turns you by the chin to meet his gaze. Looking at him you see he’s staring not at your eyes but your lips, you hadn’t even noticed the Whipped Cream still on your lips from minutes ago. To nervous yet curious as is to why your boyfriend was acting so strange.

He swipes his thumb across your lip and finally answers with a soft “no”, before taking it in his mouth, moaning as he sucks on his finger. His eyes were shut and you could now tell he had a motive for his actions.

His movements were subtle but precise, like a lion stalking his prey he was trying to be sly and not startle you with his plan to make you feel good and have some fun at the same time.

“I was just not tired anymore and was awoken by the sound of the Whipped Cream bottle”

“I’m sorry babe I tried to be quiet, I know it’s hard for you to sleep” you said in a whine

“I was invaded with a thought” he said putting his hands around your waist.

“I don’t know just thought maybe I could eat some Whipped Cream, ya know?”

“You want some Whipped Cream?”

“Yea” he said in an instant, almost proud of himself.

Turning towards the counter to grab the bottle you can feel his hand slide to your thigh, the other still on your waist not letting you go from his hold.

“Here then silly have some” you said squirting some on his lips.

He giggled “I’m not the silly one, silly i need something to eat it on”

“There’s no pie left so you’ll have to get something else”

He licked the cream off his lips and rested his forehead against yours, now mere inches away from your face, you could smell his minty breath blowing into your nose.

“I want to eat it off of you Puppet”

Your breath hitched in your throat, flustered and probably beat red. The confidence in Chan’s voice making it harder for you to keep your composure.

Pulling you closer, Chan placed a sloppy wet kiss at the corner of your mouth. Slowly he crept his hand up to your neck and leaned into you further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. He pushed you back into the wall and kept you there, pressing his body against yours.

You don’t know from where but you found your confidence again, probably from realizing even tho he’s incredibly hot and the most sexy human being you’ve ever placed your eyes on, he’s still just Chan. The same Chan you go on long car rides around town with belting out your favorite songs together. The same Chan that kisses you to bed every night and says “I’ll see you tomorrow Puppet” making you feel safe and comfortable with him at all times.

You broke away from the kiss and teased him, taking of your top and spraying a small amount of Whipped Cream on your nipple. Quickly you knew you had to run, especially after that stunt you just pulled Chan was prolly rock hard and you haven’t even touched him yet.

Once inside, you laid down on the bed and made yourself comfortable while awaiting Chan’s next move.

“No need to worry Puppet, tonight’s about you and making you feel all good and taken care of, I promise”

He said it like he needed to reassure you, like you would run away if he didn’t say it. You knew Chan and reminded yourself of that, all nervousness and anxiety gone by his lil side smile and messy bleached curls that fell in his face.

Chan went to the cavern between your boobs, licking the sweet remains of the Whipped Cream that melted and slid there. Your foot found its way to Chan’s hard member in his pants, a reassuring smile against your skin as you rubbed it ever so slightly.

“God Puppet you taste so sweet” he said in between sucks.

You were squirming underneath him barely able to keep your composure with his big cloud like lips attached to you.

“Off” was all you could get yourself to say as you pulled at his shirt, he obliged pulling it over his head in one swift motion discarding it somewhere across the room. The satin feel of the skin on his pecks sent quivers down your spine, thinking of what other parts of your body would feel like dragging against it as your finger so effortlessly did now.

One breathy kiss on your skin led to the next, Chan slowly making his way down to your clothed cunt. All you had on was underwear so Chan could have easily slipped it off, but no. He did it oh so gently, delicately placing his fingers under the thin fabric and sliding it down, like you would brake if he hadn’t done it so excruciatingly slow.

He spreads open your folds pumping two fingers in, your tight walls surrounding him earning a breathy moan to escape from his lips.

“Fuck Puppet your so wet for me and I haven't even touched you yet”

Topically you didn’t want to look, to shy or embarrassed to do so but tonight was different in so many ways. You desperately wanted to see Chan pleasure you, watch him as he pumped his fingers inside you. Watch as the rings on his bony fingers disappeared and reappeared wet and glistening in the soft light. See Chan’s visual approval and the shudders that leave his body when he knows it feels good.

When Chan feels you are ready he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, savoring your essence left on his skin, something you’ve only ever seen him do so seductively.

He cocks his head and looks at you with a devilishly cute smirk, almost to cute especially when having sex “you had your late night snack now it’s my turn” grabbing the bottle of Whipped Cream from the bedside table he sprayed a small dollop on your clit. The feeling was cold but soft and you were already so wet and so desperate for friction you could care less what was on you as long as Chan accompanied it.

Chan stared at your vagina for a few seconds smiling like an idiot, felt like hours to you just laying there all worked up and horny whilst your boyfriend admired his work.

“What is it baby I’m wasting away” you whined, clawing at his arms in desperate attempt to make him move, blink even.

“I’m sorry Puppet your cunt is just to cute, your glistening folds and an adorable bundle of nerves now fashioned with a cute dollop of Whipped Cream.”

Feeling ashamed for having whined at him, you hid your face in a nearby pillow and tried your best to stay still as Chan drug his finger over your clit, pushing some of the Whipped Cream down your slit.

He then snaps, waisting no time diving nose first into your sweet wet pussy, devouring every inch of you, sucking the Whipped Cream off you and lightly flicking your clit with his tongue.

His large frame towering over you despite him being between your legs. You were always short and small, called a runt sometimes in school, but Chan swooped in and made you feel safe, with being so large and as muscular as he is it was easy to feel so. Accompanied with all his praising words he sorta became like your safe haven.

You were a mess head flung back and your eyes sealed shut, hands roaming for something to pull. As Chan prodded his wet tongue at your hole, your hands bolted to his hair, softly tugging at his roots trying to make him go further in your sex.

His movements were sloppy, your bed was a mess, your breathing was out of control, but you felt hot, rocking your hips into Chan’s face practically suffocating him between your thighs.

Chan knew you were close before you did, was probably very easy to tell from where he was “I know your close Puppet so just move me where you need me and I’ll help you.”

You pawed at Chan’s chest as he sprayed some more Whipped Cream on your soaking cunt, couldn’t even tell cause of how wet you felt. He pushed your legs up and started again, reattaching himself to his little bundle of nerves, sucking and licking in all the right places as you rode out your high.

After you cummed all over Chan’s face you were completely out of it, unable to move from how hard your orgasm hit you. All you could feel was Chan’s soft kisses around your groin and occasionally the warm feeling of a wet washcloth. Water slowly turning cold as he gently washed away all the Whipped Cream that may have been left on your fragile and sensitive skin.

Chan flopped down beside you pussy drunk and almost completely incoherent, staring off into space.

A small “cold Channie” was all you could mutter out, still high on your orgasm and tired from being up so late.

“Ok” he huffed while pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist, wetness from your oozing cunt now all over his bare stomach. Noticing he didn’t mind you snuggled closer to him, breathing in the musky smell of his faded cologne.

You let yourself be put in a trance by Chan’s small touches, flicking your hair back out of his face, rubbing small circles on your back with his soft fingertips, and the small gruff groans that he would make when you tried to move in closer, if that were physically possible.

The small up and down movements from Chan breathing and the moonlight coming from your open window soon sent you to sleep. You couldn’t tell if Chan was actually asleep or not, his eyes were shut but usually it takes him a couple agonizing hours of staring at the wall before he’s sleeping.

You felt safe like this with Chan so you didn’t let yourself worry too much. Could that have been selfish………. probably yes, but you just enjoyed his slow breaths as he rocked you soundly to sleep.