#cuck-ish?????

[yanderepuck]

The banner might be Leonardo.... But he's not your lover.

PLEASE DO NOT ASK ME WHERE THIS IDEA CAME FROM I DO NOT WISH TO TALK ABOUT IT. PLEASE AND THANK YOU. (It's sorta cuck-ish?????)

Side note: this was almost an Arthur/Theo fic rather than a Comte/Leonardo fic. But I write enough Theo smut as it is. I need to push him to the side for a bit.

Comte has been gone for a few days. No, a week now and you are getting desperate. You have been horny for 4 days straight and your thoughts have been anything but straight.

You can't fall asleep.

11 passes.

12 passes.

1 passes.

You while and start to touch yourself. Groping yourself. Fingering yourself. It's not enough.

It's 1:30 and you're in bed mercilessly humping a pillow for some kind of friction.

"Fuck...Abel..."

You softly moan his name as if he's there helping you with your issue.

You think you get enough sexual frustration out to be able to sleep so you lay there. Drifting into a light sleep.

You wake up not long later, tossing and turning. Your fingers made their way inside you as you were asleep. Comte is the very first thing in your mind.

You pull your hand back up and fall back into a light sleep.

You do it again. And again. Thinking of Comte the first moment you feel your fingers deep in you.

It's 3:30.

You can't go back into your sad excuse for sleep. You bunch up your pillow again and start grinding on it.

You had already gotten yourself to cum twice but it's not enough.

Humping is not enough. You need something else. You need something inside you.

You whine, shoving your face into the mattress. "Abel..!" You're cursing him for not being there to satisfy you.

Finally you stop. Not because you are satisfied but because you have an idea and you're not about to talk yourself out of it.

You get out of bed, and go out into the hall. You walk before stopping at a door and letting yourself inside.

You have to be careful where you step, you basically walk on your toes. The only light in the room is fromt.he moon coming through the window so you end up walking into a few things. You get to the bed and get on it, then sit on top him.

Leonardo wakes up when he feels your weight on top of him. He groans, wondering why you're here. "Cara mia? What's wrong? What time is it?"

He tries to sit up but since he's still half asleep you're able to push him back down.

"Fuck me."

Even with that little push, jolting him more awake he still wasn't understanding. "Excuse me?"

"I need you to fuck me," you already started to grind your hips against him, wanting to get him hard quick.

He let out a sharp moan, but quickly stopped. "Cara mia, I don't think-"

You put your hand over his mouth to stop him from trying to talk you out of this. "You told Comte you would take care of me while he is away, no? So take care of me."

You give him a stern look. You're so sexually frustrated that you need to do something about it. Leonardo isn't sure what to think. But the way you keep dry humping him is getting him hard. Hard enough for you to ride him.

You get off of his lap just enough to pull his cock out. You rub him a few times before sitting down on him. You're so wet that his whole cock is able to slide into you with ease.

Both of you moan at the same time. Leonardo knows this is wrong but what is he supposed to do. He's still half asleep and can't think of anything to say to you to talk you out of it, but now it's really too late.

All you needed was to move up and down in him a few times to get yourself to cum again. That's three times. But it's still not enough you want more.

"Goddamn it..fuck me," you wanted it hard, rough enough to have you screaming. You wanted every dirty little thought in your head to become reality.

Leonardo grabbed hold of you and rolled you over so you were on the bed now. Pinning your hands to the bed he immediately starts thrusting into you. You moan louder, spreading your legs more so he can get deeper.

His cock slides in and out of you perfectly with how wet you are

"Ahh- you're b-bigger than Abel," you moan as his cock pumps into you.

Leonardo tries to ignore you and just focuses on his desires now. You buck up your hips, allowing him to get even deeper.

"F-fuck...his cock hasnt t-touched me th-there."

"Shut up," he breathes heavily. He's sort of happy that he can't see much of your expression. He doesn't want to be able to remember it later.

You start to squirm, feeling yourself reaching climax for a fourth time.

"H-he would have loved to watch~"

"I said shut up," he lets go of your arm and holds onto your hips so he can hold you down as he fucks you harder.

"Ahh!" Your toes curl. You experience your best climax of the night, covering his cock in fresh cum.

Leonardo pulls out right before his climax. Pushing your shirt up and leaving a puddle of cum on your stomach.

You both pant, not daring to look at the other.

Leonardo gives himself a moment to catch his breath before getting up, fixing his pants, and finding something to clean you up with.

You then pull your shirt back down to cover yourself. The plan was to get up and go back to your bed, but now you finally feel tired enough to fall asleep, so you stay laying there.

Leonardo lays back down in his bed, already trying to forget what just happened.

~~

Tag list~

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @fang-and-feather @xalxtusxiao @namine-somebodies-nobody @ana-thedaydreamer @evil-quartett @ameyoruakiikemenseries @yrenesposts @p1nkpandomium @tele86 @damekathearasi @lokis-laugh @candied-boys @breadmercury @aquagirl1978 @xenokiryu @nightghoul381 @vampiricpancake @lulu-the-smol-floof @faust-bite

[cocolacola]

some sort of realization

[tteokdoroki]

VOICEMAILS AND DIAL TONES - yuuta okkotsu.

✩ — about. “back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand.” there are rules to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s has. the first being that you tell each other everything. the second, try not to fall in love. all you know, is that you’ve failed at both, and now your best friend is half way across the world without any idea as to how much you truly love him. is that something you can say over text or voicemail? ( 8.7K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, with a happy ending - video banner! characters are in their 20s. coffee-shop!au, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden romance, long-distance, misunderstandings, miscommunication, situationships, arguments, hospitalisation mentions, death mentions (non-major characters), cucking, somnophilia, praise, fingering (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), phone sex-ish, clothed sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampies, fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hi everyone!! jumping on the yuuta hype and dropping this fic i wrote as a commission last year!! it's so interesting to see how much my writing has changed, but i remember having fun when writng this. either who!! i hope you all enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

absence makes the heart grow fonder — at least that’s what they tell you so that the feeling of missing someone hurts a tiny little bit less. 

you’ve always wondered if that were true. if willingly putting space between yourself and the person you loved truly helped soothe the soreness as if it were medication for the body’s aches and pains. perhaps the theory could best be applied to your friendship with yuuta okkotsu. 

he’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember — from the moment he moved in next door, his bambi eyes were big and brown, safe and inviting…who were you to keep hiding behind your mothers leg and deny him an invitation to play on the swing set his parents had put up for him in the garden just over the fence? yuuta was the sweetest boy to date, he was always polite with your parents and asked their permission before taking you into the depths of his cardboard fort in the front yard. 

he would walk home with you from pre-k, your chubby little fingers tightly intertwined and the matching charms on your backpacks swinging about the place jingling with every step you took towards home. when you got to middle school and kids were meaner, yuuta stood by your side while you were teased for being quieter than most. he defended you, his shy, patient best friend. 

okkotsu still walked you home, his pinky finger hooked over yours — greeted your mother with that same shy, yet charming tight lipped smile and offered to help her with cooking dinner with that same airy voice of his. your mother would reward you both with a kiss to the forehead and a plate of warm walnut and chocolate chip cookies and your pinkies — still linked underneath the table.

you were always linked. it’s always been yuuta and you. back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand the butterflies in your tummy and the blistering temperature to the back of your neck and your ears — maybe too naive to understand a metaphorical doctor’s diagnosis of a case of early on-set puppy-love. knowing back then would’ve explained why you wrote yuuta’s name on a heart alongside your own or why you squirmed every time you touched.

there was only one explanation. you liked yuuta, loved him. 

you wished that you’d known what that feeling was…because it's soon ripped from your grip and your whole world changes when rika orimoto enters your lives. she was pretty, had a beauty mark smeared daintily across her cheek and gentle eyes that made you feel safe. she was pretty and yuuta thought that too — inside and out. that’s why they became fast highschool sweethearts and why you were left in the dust. 

rika easily made a mess of him, tearing yuuta into a million tiny pieces that only she could put back together. she asks him out on white-day, okkotsu a bumbling mess by the lockers in between gym class and economics as he clutches her neatly written love letter — hearts over the I’s and T’s crossed ever so cutely. she had done to yuuta what he’d been doing to you all of your lives and you’d hardly seen her talk to him around school until that day. 

much to your dismay, they date throughout the rest of highschool and it nearly kills you, having someone that you were once so close to fade-away into near nothingness with growing distance. life where yuuta has a girlfriend ( that isn’t you ) drains the happiness that you got from being around your childhood best friend. it’s selfish, you know, to have wanted to keep him all to yourself. to have him want you instead of her. 

they make plans for after school, babies with names that start with the same letters as theirs and a wedding that’ll be small and flowery and whatever rika wants because yuuta okkotsu would give the girl he loves the entire world. you so badly want to be her. that person who is the centre of his universe. it should be you, it should have always been you — making plans with yuuta and imagining the perfect ring, the one that he would give you in the front yard of his childhood home. it should be your life with him, one that you’d dreamt up with him…and the sick thing is, you can’t have him — because you’re best friends and you’d be risking it all in the name of childish love.

rika, dies just days shy of your highschool graduation and it changes your best friend. a tragic car accident violently takes her life and okkotsu along with it. he’s a shell of the person he used to be, void of his dazzling smile and the comforting warmth that was unavoidable if you spent even just a minute with him. yuuta used to be like sun rays on a sunday morning but after the incident, he felt like blizzards on a dark november's eve. he lost his love, and you were starting to lose him even more than before.

his first love is memorialised at the graduation ceremony and while everyone sends her their thoughts and prayers — you feel sick to your stomach, knowing that for a brief second you’d felt relieved that your competition was gone. loving him was forbidden, he’d just lost his person and so despite your guilt you had to stick it out. be there for him. be there for your friend above all else and hold him up so that he didn’t sink in the deep water of his own grief. you’d save him, at all costs, you’d stop him before he drowned. 

things start to look up when the pair of you head to college — you both get into the same school and find the cutest little off-campus apartment to share. it feels like a home away from home to you both, since your nights before semester begins are spent attempting to master your mother’s famous cookies while practising how to introduce yourselves since you’re both nervous as hell for this new beginning. everything feels like it was when you were both children and didn’t have a single thing to worry about — except now there’s crippling student debt and a four year workload ahead of you…but you’re both excited, together again and it seems like the distance between you has shrunk just a little.

then your love life takes a turn for the worst ( yet again ) and yuuta finds himself running around town with a new crew of friends that he met in a club run by one of your elective professors, satoru gojo. they stay out later than you’re used to and your best friend comes home smelling different too, of strong perfumes and cigarette butts even though you know he doesn’t smoke. as it turns out, there’s another girl. 

maki zenin.

you don’t like her, and to be fair, she doesn’t like you either. so you keep your distance once more, keep your head down when maki does her faux walk of shame out of your best friend’s room — her thighs and her neck covered in bite marks and scratches, his shirt slipped over her body to cover the rest of her decency. he made her breakfast with your food and tea in your designated mug. it hurts to hear her mewl the sweet syllables of his name late at night while you’re stuck with the soundtrack to your own sobs.

it should be like this, distant — far apart because you care about okkotsu and you love him, so it’d be better to avoid it all rather than get him hurt.

your phone ringing in the distance gently lulls you from your reminiscent thoughts and you scramble to pick it up before you end up with a missed call. 

yuuta’s contact flashes across your screen, framed by light and making him look like an angel. it rings and rings, and you know that you should let it go to voicemail. let the space between you grow so you can protect what’s left of his soul. 

but you were never strong when it came to him. 

and you pick up before he can listen to another second of dial tones.

voicemail #1  - “hey yuuta, i hope you’re good, you’ll never guess who stopped by the cafe today— professor satoru! i haven’t seen him since your graduation! anyways, are you still coming over for dinner tonight? i miss you!”

this isn’t like him. 

even after all these years, from pre-k to college — yuuta okkotsu has never missed one of your calls. after graduating you'd made a promise to one another, to keep contact no matter where life took you, a promise of his own volition. you’d have dinner with each other at least once a week just like when you were kids and catch up on your not-so crazy adventures into adulthood. 

you kept up your end of the bargain as your way of keeping okkotsu afloat — to ground him. he’d seen and been through enough hurt to last him a lifetime and if he had to use you as a crutch for comfort, despite your raging feelings for him, then so be it. so you never missed a call, always checked in and made him something nostalgic and tied to the memories of afternoons where your mother would fill you up with her wondrous baked goods or heartwarming soups.

but still, this isn’t like yuuta to not pick up when you call. 

to feel…more distant than usual and of his own accord. 

panic sets in while you listen to the third dial tone, trying to contact him again. taking a deep breath, you pace around the fridge-freezer in the back of your bakery — one that you’d set up shortly after graduating from your business degree. there had to be some explanation for your best friend’s absence. perhaps traffic? maybe he was on the subway catching a ride over? or maybe he just needed space. he’d been going through a lot recently. yuuta didn’t get a job straight out of college and he broke things off with maki shortly after — they wanted different things and had different aspirations.

even still, with the free time left on his hands, there was too much room for him to think about his losses and his loves…it made you worry for him, it made you panic and chew on your nails just like this. “c’mon yu,” you whisper to yourself, the shaky syllables of your words bouncing off the metal house for your ingredients, muffled by paper bags of powdered sugar and organic flours. “where are you?” 

you can barely hear the automated message telling you to leave a voicemail for your friend over the bustling of your afternoon service. if yuuta hadn’t been off the grid, he’d be here helping you with the customers that know him all too well, the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and the younger ones that twirl their hair in an attempt to flirt over miniature cherry bakewell tarts. except he’s nowhere to be found, and you’re nauseous, worried sick about where he could be and what he could be up to. 

you try his cell one more time in an attempt to grab at his attention. there's something weird about today...as if he’s avoiding you, hiding. yuuta always picks up and you always pick up for him, it’s an unspoken rule.

when you’re met with the dial tones again, you hang up — slumped and distraught. there’s hungry customers to feed and you’re overly friendly college professor waiting on a fresh box of sweets you’d used as an excuse to escape to the back of your shop. yuuta can wait for another call from you. 

but you’re not sure if your heart can wait for one back from him. 

voicemail #2  - “it’s yuuta, we need to talk.” 

oddly enough, silence is comforting to you. it reminds you of your best friend, the nights you’d spend coupled up in your dorm with your fingers running through his silken midnight hair, his head in your lap and the both of you shrouded in darkness. more often than not, you could tell how one another’s days went just by body language and when shoulders were slumped and eyes were droopy — yourself and yuuta would curl up together  and just…take in the quiet. 

be close to one another.

so, you bask in the tranquillity of your quaint little cafe as you clear up after a day's work. you sweep floors, wipe tables clean and arrange the tables and chairs with perfect precision. the only sound that accompanies you is the clink of silverware and porcelain plates as you wash the dishes. it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the slightest noise is enough to make you jump — just like your phone that vibrates deep within your back pocket, startling you as you scramble to dry your hands so you can see if it’s him who’s been trying to get in touch with you.

it’s embarrassing how quick you are to smile when you see a few missed calls and a voice message from yuuta. though you’ve never quite heard the tune of seriousness that plays in his voice before, your heart won’t stop racing at the mere sound of him speaking. your mind wonders…what could be so urgent that he’d need a ‘talk’?’ 

maybe it was a thank you…for always being beside him or maybe he even liked you. perhaps okkotsu had finally come to his senses and realised how much he’d always needed you…how much he loved you.. the racing thoughts in your brain hopefully jump towards a confession from your best friend and you find yourself getting giddy at its prospect. you practically skip, hop and jump to the back of your cafe, switching out your flour stained clothes for one of the spare and cleaner shirts you keep in the back — you touch up your makeup too, brighten the dark circles under your eyes and blot your worry lines with care. 

you even manage to heat up a few of yuuta’s favourite pastries to serve up by candlelight — rehearsing your own words of confession as if they haven’t been looming around in your head for years. 

the bell to your quaint little cafe chimes with his arrival, a rush of cool, late night air tangling with the temperate atmosphere as you lay your finishing touches on the meal you’d prepared for you both. when you look up, yuuta’s eyes have settled on you — warm and inviting as usual, but bright with a light that had been missing from them since you were young. you’ve missed it, the subtle spark that brings life to the coffee brown oasis in his eyes.

he remains as handsome as ever, taller than you by however many heads — limbs long, arms slightly muscular and waist slender, though his build is more like a dancer’s. yuuta okkotsu grew up to be a fine man and you’d be a fool to have not noticed. he crosses the room in short strides, rushing to take you into his arms and hold you close and squeeze you to his chest. yuuta smells like cookies, you note, hardly paying attention while his lips softly brush over your hairline in a sweet kiss.

“hi,” he whispers, voice smooth like melted chocolate dripping through your ears. “i’ve missed you.”

you only hope that he can’t hear your racing heartbeat, it’s speed picking up as you decide that this is your moment. the moment. “i’ve missed you too,” you mumble back, toying with a loose string on the cream cashmere the dark brunette is wearing. “yuuta…i have to tell you something—“

“i-i have something important to tell you,” he breathes out at the same time as you do, almost shy as you both sway in the centre of the room and enjoy one another’s embrace. 

the both of you share a laugh that’s light and airy before you drag him over to a table and set of chairs, forcing him to sit and to eat the baked goods you’d set out for him. “you first, yuu,” it makes you happy to see him tuck in, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “you owe me a story after disappearing on me today.” 

okkotsu nods in agreement, his cheeks adorably full of food and pastry flaked across his milky skin. “‘m sorry, i was sortin’ something out la’sht minute.” 

“yeah?” 

“y-yeah! i’m moving,” yuuta drops the bomb like it’s nothing. “abroad. for a job! professor gojo set me up and it’s s-supposed to help build my confidence and stuff—“ 

your world falls apart in an instant, sucking away the oxygen in your lungs until you feel like your lungs are failing. yuuta is leaving you and this time it’s for real. 

confessing to him now wouldn't mean shit, you’d only be holding him back. your face crumples faster than you can control at the thought and after years of knowing you— okkotsu instantly picks up your change in mood. 

“what’s wrong?” he says your name and even that hurts to hear.

“n-nothin’ yuu, i’m happy for you, really.” comes your broken voice over the quiet, you fake it until you make it.

“really? you don’t look like it.” 

running a hand over your tired face, you force a smile. “really. especially if you think this is what’s best for you.” 

“it is!” yuuta nearly snaps, controlling himself— stopping himself from yelling at you and tearing your friendship apart before he’s gone. “i need this, need’a be my own person. after college, after highschool i didn’t have time for any of that! i need this.” 

needs it more than he needs you.

“okay.” you say simply, blankly.

“okay.” he says back. 

the debate doesn’t last that much longer after that — the room fills with silence as you grieve your faltering friendship. whatever confession you had planned, now forgotten. 

voicemail #3 -  “yuuta! i wasn’t sure how long your flight was but please call me when you land! you’re gonna do great at your new job.”

yuuta doesn’t call after he lands, in fact two entire days pass before you actually hear from him. after the argument, you’d try to stay on good terms as though not to lose him for good — helping him pack and sort out his currencies, buying him language books since you knew he would struggle with the new dialect. 

you figure it’s because he’s unpacking and not because he doesn’t want anything to do with you — and while you make some late night tea, you find that it’s better to imagine him alone in a new foreign country, picture his pretty pink lips struggling to form the vowels of the new language too, envision how he’ll tan under the blistering hot heat and how excited he’ll be to try new things.

its humiliating how easily he can preoccupy your thoughts from thousands of miles away and makes your heart race so fast that it might burst through the bones and flesh of your chest. he occupies your every thought like a fungus crawling across your brain that’s only disrupted by the sound of your phone ringing loudly — making you drop your tea and jump up to answer.

“hey,” the way yuuta says your name sends tingles down your spine — filtering out any pain you feel from burning your hand. he looks good too, dark hair flopping over his eyes, voice gravelly with sleep as if he’s just woken up and you’re the first thing on his mind. “i got your message, s-sorry for not calling i’ve been—“ 

you cut him off, eager to speak and draw the call out for as long as possible because you missed him. “busy? a guy like you must be extremely popular on the other side of the world.” you’re chipper in an attempt to cover how flustered you are and to cheer your best friend up when you notice how nervous he looks.

“not exactly… i’m nervous. e-everything seems so big ‘nd scary without you here…”

without you.

you shake your head over the grainy FaceTime call. “you’ve always done fine without me, you’ll do even better without having to cover for my shyness!” he laughs at that, the sound like a sweet song to soothe your aching heart. “you got this yuuta.” 

your best friend gives you a sleepy smile, one that melts you like a knob of butter on a hot stove and has your knees knocking. “you’re the best, you know that? you always know what to say.”

the static crackles between you and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“i’m always here for you, yuuta.” 

“and i’m glad for that,” he yawns. “i love you.” 

you have to remind yourself that what your best friend says is strictly platonic but you almost selfishly repeat the words back to yuuta until you notice he’s fallen back asleep. 

ending the call, you clutch your phone and burned hand to your chest. 

“i love you too.”

voicemail #4 - “hey sorry i missed your call, time zones can be crazy! work has been catching up with me and, well, i made a new friend!”

for the first week, you and yuuta text everyday while he’s away. you do your duty and act as his crutch like you always have— keeping him company while he works, eats and commutes all on his own. you feel bad that you lap up the attention he gives you over the phone through his loneliness. you could be compared to a desperately hungry stray animal at the way you drink up every little interaction you have. giving pieces of yourself away to keep your best friend happy. 

but as time goes on, okkotsu seems less and less worried about his job — easily slipping into the language here and there, no longer relying on you to stand on his own two feet. the frequency of your communication dwindles to the point where you really feel like you’re oceans apart. 

even yuuta notices the change within himself — the confidence that filters through him when he says yes to the pretty girl who works in the cubicle next to him when she asks him to tag along for drinks with the rest of the office one night which soon becomes a regular thing. he knows that he speaks less with you and that your texts are barely there but he’s sure you won’t mind the distance. you’re a busy girl, you run a cafe, a few days of not talking wouldn’t do any harm.

“oooh, she’s pretty. who is that?”

kasumi miwa is the one to pull yuuta out from the fog of his thoughts. the brunette looks up from his phone, your face flashing across it’s lock screen as the background. a photo where you have your arms wrapped around him from behind and your smile is as bright as the sunshine. miwa is a pretty girl, different from you. her voice is smoother and eloquent where yours is charming and sweet — she doesn’t remind him of home, or smell like the warmth of a chocolate chip cookie…but she is pretty. her presence is enough to make him shy.

he’s caught her looking a few times, her touch lingering whenever miwa passed him paperwork and right now; her cheeks are tinged pink probably from the alcohol the office is drinking inside where yuuta had come out for some fresh air.

okkotsu clicks his phone shut and stands up at full height to face his blue-haired coworker. “i… i haven’t spoken to her in a while. i miss her.” he says wistfully as he gives your name

“well, if i were dating a girl that pretty, i would miss them too.”

“o-oh! we’re not together! she’s my best friend!”

the woman beside yuuta cocks her head, a satisfied grin spreading across the slope of her lips. “you should call her — i’ll be waiting inside.” 

he follows her eyes as she walks off, along with the whiff of her chanel perfume, before his gaze lands on his phone — he calls your phone. 

you answer after the second ring, though don’t speak straight away, letting the silence wear the both of you thin. “how’ve you been?” you say quietly, lacking the chipperness to your tone that you usually have whenever the two of you ring each other up. there’s no hello, no warmth, you’re cold. 

but yuuta doesn’t ask — he’d like to think he knows you well enough not to. he thinks that you’re fine, probably tired from work and it’s late over there too. if he cared to catch up with you, he’d have been more considerate of that.

“good!” the brunette chirps in order to keep the mood light, leaning over a nearby railing. i miss you. yuuta wants to add, but the words feel like cotton in his mouth, sticking unpleasantly to every surface and for some reason they don’t feel right to say— feel foreign. “work’s been good. i think i’m getting the hang of things around here. my co-workers are great, i get this amazing view every morning a-and—“

“and?” 

“i met someone! i think! i wanna get to know her more but she’s been great to me so far…you’d like her!”

hearts don’t make a sound when they break, but if they did— you’re sure that yuuta would have been able to hear yours even from halfway across the globe. over his own ramblings he can hardly make out the shatter of your vital organ as it falls to pieces, cracks into tiny shards with jagged edges that could make you bleed if you tried to put it back together…because your best friend having met someone means he’s moving on. leaving you behind. and he’s too tone deaf to notice. 

through the static of a phone call, okkotsu misses the crumple of your face and the way your throat bobs as you swallow back salty tears and two decades worth of unrequited love. you’re devastated and he can’t even tell, barely noticing the way you rush off the phone while he’s halfway through a sentence.

his brows furrow when he realises you’ve hung up. 

“i take it that didn’t go well?” kasumi questions when yuuta re-renters the bar, her face sympathetic but voice elevated with smugness. 

he shakes his head once. “no, but it’s okay. she’s been busy.” 

he excuses you but kasumi doesn’t let up, pushing for more of yuuta — breaking him out from his shell, stealing and keeping the pearl of his heart for her taking. “don’t be too sad yuuta, you have me and your new friends, we’ll keep you company instead.”

there’s a hidden meaning behind her cherry picked words. she’ll keep him company — and for once, yuuta doesn’t feel guilty for trying to break away from you.

voicemail #5 - “what happened between us yuuta? you used to tell me everything and now you’ve got a girlfriend? i didn’t even find out through you!”

there’s an unspoken rule to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s – you’re supposed to tell each other everything. there’s not been a secret between you in all the years you’ve known each other except for minor white lies that couldn’t amount to major forms of harm. he might have told you that your hair looked fine on days where you’d barely any time to tend to it and you might have told him that he hadn’t been awkward presenting in front of your entire college class… but those were worthless lies. strings of words tied together that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t have any intent to harm.

there were no secrets, no major ones.

until now.

“he’s got a girlfriend, yanno…”

the news is shared with you casually from over the counter one day by your irritating white-haired ex-professor who makes a habit of annoying his old students. he comes in for sweets often and the daifuku you make is his favourite – you offer him extra in exchange for updates on the classmates you used to share since he’s nosey like that.

with every visit to your little cafe, gojo filled you in on everything yuuta had been up to in the blurred weeks and months since you’d last spoken – including his relationship status. “she’s pretty too, long hair. s’blue which is an odd colour, but she’s been good to him, ‘pparently. boosted his confidence.”’ the man cocks his head, watching in real-time as your movements in packing up his order slow down.

your throat bobs whilst you swallow your fading pride in front of your teacher, forcing down a wave of tears. it doesn’t matter how many times yuuta gets over you, moves on from you, finds someone to love other than you… it still hurts. it’ll always hurt knowing that he can fill the other half of his heart with someone that isn't you, while your own stays void and empty.

as always, satoru gojo sees right through your resolve as you total up his order – again forgoing charging him extra for the little tid bit of gossip he’d given you. there’s a shell of someone he doesn’t recognise in place of the girl he used to teach – the one who was once full of life and eager to learn, get out into the world and achieve your dreams. yuuta okkotsu had chipped away at you, the years you’d spent protecting his feelings had caused you to drown in your own.

and gojo could see that, he knew that. he’d been through it before.

he only wishes he had better words of comfort for you.

“you love him, don’t you?” he asks you quietly as you ring him up but you answer with his total in yen instead – sniffling as you do. professor gojo takes his brown paper bag, full of enough sugar to make the heart stop – to kill a person, but even that’s a better death than the heartache you’re going through now. you sniff and he offers you a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach the sapphire eyes behind his shades. “better yet, don’t answer that. i don’t need anymore tears in my daifuku.”

voicemail #6 - “oh fuck yuuji, right there…” “here baby? oh you’re so cute, fuck ‘m gonna—!” “oh… yuuji!” 

( incoming voicemail from - yuuta: “hey, call me back? who’s yuuji? are you okay?” )

yuuta knows that he shouldn’t have kept listening – he should have deleted the voicemail as soon as he caught onto what was happening. it didn’t take a genius to know what was going on, the sounds of skin slapping on skin, your voice wavering with the tune of lust even over the static crackle of the voicemail you’d left. 

he wishes that he’d never heard you moan out like that for someone else, that he wasn’t picturing the faces you’d make underneath the body of another man…but he couldn’t help it. the more he listened, the angrier he felt, the more betrayal flooded his veins and clouded his usually clear judgement. the brunette had no right to be this mad at you, he was supposed to be happy with miwa, supposed to be letting you move on just like he had done from you.

and yet, like a necrotizing parasite – jealousy feasts at the back of okkotsu’s mind. it disrupts his work, distracts him from his girlfriend and fills his mind with flashing images of you being fucked five ways by another man. one that isn’t him. yuuji. who even is yuuji? how did you meet him? were you dating him? you hadn’t talked in so long so the guy had barely come up in conversation. you were best friends that used to tell each other everything and now he felt like you were fucking someone new behind his back. yuuta knew nothing of what that stranger meant to you, he had no idea that yuuji itadori was just some college boy you’d brought home one drunken night – to act as a salve for the burns your childhood best friend had left on you.

it's a temporary fix, yuuji’s tongue laps at your wounds – pleasures you with teeth and tongue until your head is light and you’re almost too dizzy to think properly. in the moment, he felt good, he took care of you…but he wasn’t who you wanted. he wasn’t yuuta.

was it bad that you basked in the jealous rage and attention the brunette had bathed you in? drowning you in a barrage of text messages  the morning after you’d slept with itadori, when yuuta finally had the chance to listen to the voicemail you’d left by accident. it was the most you’d gotten out of him in the months you’d been separated.

yuuta - 7:16AM: hey…did you mean to send that? call me when you’re up.

yuuta - 7:45AM: i don’t think i was supposed to hear that…

yuuta - 8:34AM: who’s yuuji?

yuuta - 8:36AM: are you seeing someone? call me please.

yuuta - 8:57AM: pick up the phone.

yuuta - 9:21AM: it’s not funny anymore. i’m worried. pick up.

you answer your phone around noon, having given yourself the space to think over cooking a hang-over breakfast for yuuji. the sounds of spitting oil underneath frying eggs had provided the soundtrack to your thoughts – helped you pick and choose the words you would say to yuuta before your companion slips out of your apartment and you tell him to grab a pastry from your cafe downstairs on his way out. a little thank you for the night you’d shared.

“what the hell was that?” is the first thing yuuta snarls down the line once your call connects.

you shift your phone in your grasp, as if his seething tone has scorched the palm of your hand. “are we past greetings or somethin’, yuu?” you fail to admit that it hurts you, starting the call without his tender and caring ‘hello’, you feel like an enemy on the battlefield to okkotsu, rather than his friend.

“i think we are well past that, especially with the kind of voice messages you’ve been leaving me.” he says it like he’s disgusted with you, when he really just misses you. craves you. he’s angry at himself and for letting you slip between his fingers into the grasp of another man. not at you. never at you. but even cell phone lines connecting calls from across the globe can’t properly convey the way yuuta feels. “what’s going on with you? why are you acting like this? we haven’t spoken in weeks and you–?”

“why is what i do any of your business anymore, yuuta?” you snap through his flurry of questions, growing heated yourself. “i accidentally left you a voicemail of me fucking someone, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”

“you’re just… not like this. we don’t speak and all of a sudden…y-you’re different!”

you clutch the phone tighter, swallowing thickly. “and who’s fault is that? let me answer that for you. it’s yours. you’re the one who got a girlfriend and left me in the dust. not the other way around!” you argue, trying to sound stern and steady though yuuta can hear the wobble to your words loud and clear. “you shouldn’t have listened, you should have called. you let the distance become a problem between us.”

he scoffs, an action so unlike your best friend. “we’re not children anymore! you should have talked to me about the distance!” 

“i couldn't!” you defend yourself, desperate for the pain in your heart to be heard for once. “you were finally happy again yuuta! that mattered to me—“ 

“you think i'm happy about hearing my best friend get…defiled over the phone?” 

“well you should be! it means I’m not hung up on you anymore, that i’m moving on from being in love with you! leaving you so that you can be happy in your new life!” 

the silence from yuuta’s end of the phone is both too loud and too deafening. 

“you…loved me?” he whispers, switching back to that same sweet tone he always used when it came to you. “why didn’t you say?”

your stupid little confession, the one you’d been holding back for more than half your life, sips out before you can catch it with the tip of your tongue and you instantly feel terrible for weaponizing your crush on okkotsu against him. at least that’s what it feels like you’ve done. “i never told you…because i’m not selfish, yuuta,” you stutter out, your face hot with oncoming and flustered tears. “i-i'm not a selfish person. i wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship or your happiness, not just because i loved you.”

yuuta says your name, but blood rushes through your ears in embarrassment – way too fast for you to catch it, and you hang up before you can humiliate yourself any further.

before you can hear him say that he loves you too.

voicemail #7 - “open up, i'm coming home. please be here when I’m home.” 

the number you have dialled is unavailable, please try again later.

after the slip of your tongue and confession to yuuta— he was met with radio silence. you’d blocked him on every form of social media possible and he couldn’t even blame you. you wanted to be free from him, from that silly and imaginary red string that had kept you tied to his soul for all of these years. it hurt to think when everything reminded you of him, so you buried yourself in your cafe and worked yourself to death because even the sweet relief from life would be better than living without your best friend. 

gojo had stopped by and taken you to the hospital twice since you’d worked yourself into exhaustion — tonight was no different, sentenced to bed rest by your ex-professor and the best doctor he could find. he always did look out for his students.

sleeping your sadness away had caused you to miss a barrage of yuuta’s calls — if you’d picked up you’d have known that he was coming home. coming home for you. in the wake of your love confession, okkotsu had realised how much he needed you and how much he loved you. you had never left his side, no matter what yuuta had been through, and now, nothing feels right without you. 

so he broke up with his girlfriend, took leave from his job and flew halfway across the world for you — to give his message in person. 

it’s near midnight by the time yuuta gets back to japan, the warm yellow of the streetlights illuminating the path right up to your apartment after getting out of the uber. there’s a spare house key, glinting gold, hidden under your cupcake shaped doormat just as yuuta remembers and he uses it to slip inside — dumping his bag and kicking his shoes off at the entryway. his socked feet locate the bedroom with ease, perhaps drawn by your aura and the anticipation of seeing you again.

and there you are, so close yet so far away — your face peaceful and painted with an adorable expression of slumber. okkotsu notes the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the crease between your brow as if you’re having a bad dream. he could fix it… whatever’s plaguing your sleeping mind, he knows that he can, because whenever you touch each other, it’s like your bodies know to relax and that they’re safe.

tiptoeing deeper into the room, the brunette slinks up to the side of your bed and the mattress dips underneath the weight of his knee as he seats himself beside you. you’re so beautiful, so calm. he doesn’t know how he went his whole life without choosing you, choosing other people over you time and time again. “i love you,” yuuta whispers into the dead of the night, brushing a thumb and forefinger over the apple of your cheek — hesitating when you roll into his body heat. “i love you. i’m so sorry.” he says again, while pressing a feather light kiss to that same spot. 

his breath hitches when you reach for him this time, grabbing at the man in your sleep.

yuuta kisses you again, but on your forehead. then your other cheek, your chin, your inner wrists and finally — your lips. each brush of his own against you is increasingly feverish, pouring unspoken emotions into them as he quietly utters the words ‘i love you.’ over and over again. he feels like he has something to prove, as if the brunette has to show you how much he cares for you — leaving a trail of sweet smooches between the valley of your breasts from over your night-shirt to between your thighs that spill out of the loose material.

he only hopes that this is enough for you to forgive him, for you to love him back like he does you.

your best friend… or ex best friend really should feel bad about this, teething on the swell of your thighs— his fingertips sinking into their apex to pry you apart for him. you could end up hating him more for this, yuuta’s slick and drool stained tongue rolling over the seam at the crotch of your panties hungrily, softly as if to test the waters. he takes it as a good sign when your face contorts with pleasure even in your sleep and slots his entire mouth against the sweet treasure between your legs— sucking the juices from the fabric of your underwear.

you taste so good and he’s not even got you properly wet yet. yuuta’s next move is to hook two fingers over the garment to pull it aside — revealing your twitching hot cunt to the cool night air in your bedroom. even your scent is divine, enticing just as you’ve always been and the brunette can’t believe he was too blind to see it before. he presses a chase kiss to your clit, feeling it pulse to life against his lips before said kisses become open mouthed and sloppy— tongue diving into the tightness of your little hole, circling it to flick your flavour back into his mouth. 

his movements start slow, tenderly testing which spots inside your pretty little cunt make you sigh out contently while you slumber but the wetter you get, the sloppier yuuta becomes — lapping at your sex and your clit in eager movements like a kitten at a bowl of milk. you only stir awake when his fingers travel up to grip onto your ass and tug your pussy onto his face, guiding you up and down on his writhing tongue like he’s fucking you for real.

“y-yuu?” you grumble, still finding your footing in the reality of consciousness. “whas’ h-happenin’… oh my god—!”  the questions you have for the mop of hair between your legs, groaning like a starved man into there too, taper into an angelic moan. pretty and airy, like music to yuuta’s ears. once you come to and fully realise what’s going on, your fingers slip into the roots of his hair and your hips buck into his mouth instinctively — even though you should be pissed. even though you should be screaming at him and kicking him off. you can’t help it that this is what you’ve always wanted. that you’ve always wanted him.

“w-what are you doing here?” you manage to ask through a whine, brain fogging up at the way yuuta’s tongue runs laps over your swelling clit. 

he pulls off of you with a lewd pop that makes both of you shudder, two of his slender digits easily sliding into you where his tongue once was — guided by spit and slick. “i came home for you. i love you,” your best friend doesn’t have time to formulate proper reasoning, drunk on your saccharine flavour  like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had the honour of tasting. “f-fuck, i-i missed you.”

yuuta gives you those big puppy dog eyes as he curls his digits inside of you and hits spots you can't quite reach on your own. you should be talking about your feelings not fucking through them but you’ve missed him so much and need him so bad. both of you groan in unison when he brushes over your g-spot, your hips jumping up and his grinding down into your silky sheets. 

“missed you too,” you breathe and yank him up by the hair to meet your lips — making out with him feverishly, swapping the words your mind can’t seem to force you to say, pouring the mixed emotions into him as he finger fucks your tight little hole like his life depends on it.

every movement you make with one another is sloppy and uncoordinated, tongues doused in one another’s saliva— saliva that tastes like you. your moans mingle in the hot and heavy air and you clench down on yuuta’s fingers as they pump in and out of you, his palm slapping against your folds while you leak into the seat of his palm. 

“are you close?” yuuta slurs into your mouth so quietly you almost miss it underneath the lewd sound of your pussy. “i want to make you cum, show you how much i love you.”

blood rushes through your ears, heat pin pricking like needles under your skin. “y-yes. p-please yuu…” 

his thumb dragging smooth circles over the pulsating bud between your blooming pussy lips is all you need to trip over the edge into your high— the knots in your lower tummy unwinding faster than you can register, waves of your nectar flowing from your cunt onto the sheets below and soiling yuuta’s hand right up to his wrist. 

your head tips back into a high pitched squeal, eyes locked away and rolling back while you damn near black out from your orgasm. but your best friend is right there like he should be, sucking love-bites into your neck to ground you. dark tresses of yuuta’s chocolate-like hair tickle at your tingling flesh while he manoeuvres himself between your legs and shifts his pants down enough to let his rock hard cock spring free. 

“c-can you take me now?” he pleads more than he asks, brown and warm eyes trembling with need, anticipation. “i don’t think i’ll last long and i need you.” 

you feel him press at your entrance, his angry red tip glistening with opaque beads of precum— yuuta softly ruts his hips against you, smearing…claiming you with his own essence while he waits for your consent. “i’ve always needed you, yuuta.” you say breathlessly, giving him a small grin and nod when he looks up from drooling against your neck. 

that’s all the go ahead he needs before his thick girth pushes all the way into you at once — weighty and temperate against your ribbed and creamy walls. “‘ohmyfuckinggod,” he whimpers wetly against you. “y-you’re so tight wrapped around me. so perfect i—“ 

“move, yuuta. fuck me, please,” you remind him, tugging on his air and crossing your ankles at the base of his spine. 

“y-yeah okay…g-god you’re so good. so sweet ‘n tight.” with that, he draws his hips back — hesitant at first. brown eyes watch your face for any signs of discomfort and yuuta’s lust driven instincts take the lead when he only notices how blissed out you look. your pretty lips are agasp, forming a pleasure-filled ‘o’ as you mewl and claw at his half-clothed shoulders. “i love you, o-oh god!”

all you can do is whimper in response, fingers drifting up to the nape of yuuta’s neck to tangle in his dark locks— tugging him into you as if it’ll make him hit deeper, churn up your guts and make you see stars. “y-you’re stupid…” you manage to get out, the warmth of your breath glossing his lips as if to taunt your best friend with a kiss. 

“i know…” calloused fingers grab at the backs of your thighs with a bruising grip before yuuta pushes your legs towards your shoulders, both of you grunting and whining in unison when you tighten around him at the new angle. gushing sweet juices that paint his stomach and pelvis.

“y-you shouldn’t have left me,” tears start to brim, collecting in your lash line like diamonds before they hit your cheeks.

you’re so beautiful like this, even when you’re crying— when you’re crying because you’re fucked up on his cock, claiming it with your cream as ur clings to his balls and the veins that spital down his length. 

yuuta’s red hot tip nudges against the soft and squishy spots along your sensitive walls, keeping his thrusts at a rhythmic and passionate pace to make sure the only thing you feel is heaven on earth. your pussy is hot and warm and heaven-like around him, sucking him in so selfishly and tightening every time yuuta’s strong abs grind against your puffy clit. 

“i know,” he sighs dreamily and with an airy voice, licking a stripe from your chin to your cheek as a tear streaks it’s way down it. “won't ever leave you again,” his fingers touch at your face, sinking into the softness of your cheeks as he drags you up to face him. “i’ll never leave you again.” 

“never?” you ask, hiccuping.

“never.” he moans.

you see it there, the love glittering amongst the almond flecks in your childhood best friend’s eyes — he means it, he promises it and you can feel it with every roll of yuuta’s hips into you while he pins you to the bed. he makes love to you and says what he needs to through his actions this time. through your tangled mess of sweaty limbs and fluttering lashes you find okkotsu’s hand, linking them together. 

the sight of your hands meeting one another brings emotions bubbling to the surface of your skin, hot to yuuta’s touch — it's a symbol that you’ve finally come together after being worlds apart for so long. “you’re finally mine, ‘m never letting you go,” his warm breath coasts across the seam of your lips before he dips into kiss you— tongue gliding over yours as it pushes into the depths of your mouth just as his cock does, brushing up against your g-spot and just  kissing your cervix. “you’re always going to be mine.” 

“i-i’m yours,” your eyes roll back and yuuta loses his pace, his entire body twitching the closer you both get. sex taints the air, both in sound and scent, your cunt squelching around him with how wet you are and how much he leaks into you. “g-gonna cum, yuu! make me cum, make me fucking cum.”  you slur out, anchoring the man down to you with your arms around his neck until yuuta’s forehead is pressed against yours. sweaty locks of his hair and all.

yuuta’s body collapses against you and his thrusts switch to sensual grinds that never let up on your spongey g-spot. “f-fuck me, b-baby. ‘m cummin’,” he croons, panting against your lips and with one, two, three more pumps you’re squirting all over him— the pressure unwinds in your lower belly and you’re hit with blinding white lights and your nails dig into yuuta’s shoulder to the point where you leave bright red crescent moons. “that’s it baby, cum for me, make a mess for me. show me you love me— fuck!” 

you’re still trembling with the aftershocks with your orgasm when the brunette follows suit — the warmth of his seed floods your quivering cunt, painting your folds an opaque white before yuuta pulls out. the last droplets of his cum hit your soft tummy accompanied by his high pitched whine  and then he crumples against you, exhausted from the height of it all. 

“i love you so much,” yuuta hums against your skin, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “it’s always been you.” 

“i love you,” you affirm, knowing that no matter what distance is put between you and your best friend (now lover) — you’ll always find your way back to each other. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[simpjaes]

req by 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anon: im also back on my enhypen with two girls bullshit and today’s thought, featuring frat jake, is playing something like truth or dare at a party (i know, i know 😭) and he dares you to make out with jay’s girl .. i don’t mean to make him look like a weirdo but i have the feeling he’d like to watch (like… i think he’d be into lesbian porn….) 🤕

wc: 1k

tags: perv frat jake (definitely likes the idea of watching two women, it's fiction so he's allowed to be weird here on simpjaes), cuck-ish jay, drunk truth or dare, detailed descriptions of making out with a hot nameless girl, implied further sexual gameplay.

"Truth or dare?" Jake is practically crawling in his skin at this point, having hyped himself up for the past ten minutes in game waiting for the questions and dares to become just flirty enough that he doesn't look like the weird one.

After all, it's a fucking frat party. No one is playing truth or dare without the idea of someone either getting naked or fucking at some point by the end of it. At least when all sexes are involved anyway.

And he's looking at you when he asks. You smile mischievously, the alcohol in your system buzzing to the point you feel warm, confident, social, and fucking giddy at playing this game with him.

It's the first time you've been personally invited to one of these infamous frat parties too. Always hearing about the crazy nights and insane antics people get up to in this very house. You weren't exactly expecting to be in what you presume to be Jake's room with one of the other frat guys and his girlfriend either.

Still, in your drunken state, you feel flirty and excited to finally be invited. After weeks of small talk with Jake, you were starting to think he was just being nice. Until you were invited anyway. Until you noticed him sharing consistent side-eyes with his frat brother.

"Dare." You announce boldly, tipping back your cup and finishing off the drink before grabbing at Jakes. He happily lends you his cup while simultaneously stealing Jay's instead.

"Dick." Jay scoffs, tapping his girl's leg and pushing her from his lap (previous dare). "Gonna grab a few bottles before the game gets good," Jay continues, looking Jake square in the eye with a smirk. "Any requests?"

You, Jake, and Jay's girlfriend all offer up a "anything strong" before Jay sees himself out. Only for a moment, you suspect.

And when the door is closed and Jake is sitting, staring at two pretty drunk girls, all he can do is beam that charming ass smile at you before chuckling.

Jay would definitely be annoyed that he's not gonna wait for him to get back, but whatever. "Dare, you say?" Jake says in a half-hearted voice of concern. "You sure?"

You nod happily, sipping the last of the stolen drink and looking to your new friend, Jay's girl.

"Make out." Jake drops the words on you like it's nothing at all to be shocked at. And in a way, it's really not.

Again, frat party, drinks, whatever.

"With who?" You ask, silently and excitedly preparing yourself for him to present himself to you by tapping his lap or something much like Jay did previously for his girl.

But, well, you're not Jake's girl. As much as you'd very much like to be the arm candy of the most charming frat boy you've ever met. And he's not presenting himself.

You watch as his eyes shift from you to her. Back and force twice before that charming smile turns into a bottom-lip tugged between his teach.

"With each other. Make out." You look to her with a smile, entirely willing to put on a show considering she's very pretty. If she's down, so are you. And not entirely for the pleasure of Jake, or anyone else for that matter. Her lips are pretty, and her voice is tender. Quite cute when you watch her, drunk out of her mind but still entirely sweet like candy. She lends you a nod, cheeks flushing but licking her lips all the while as if to gloss them up for you. And so, you do, crawling across the floor of Jake's bedroom just to brace your hands on her shoulders and lean in to kiss her square on the lips. Her eyes beam up at you when you pull back with a cheeky smile, only to dip back in once more, twice more, and then you slide your hands to her jaw on either side of her face and really get in there.

Licking into her mouth, feeling her hands grip your waist and wildly run up and down up until she's blatantly grabbing your ass as she kisses you back with those sweet-alcohol tasting kisses.

"Holy shit." Jay's voice echoes through your ringing ears as you kiss his girlfriend, but you don't stop. Especially when she chuckles into the kiss and only pulls you closer, into her lap by the ass as she skews her head to kiss deeper.

"Check that shit out." Jake says, breath caught in his throat because truly, no matter how many times he sees two girls do this kind of thing in front of him, he can't fucking help himself. "Fuck yeah."

It's so hot for him to see two pretty girls, all breathless with their wet lips and pussies sitting so close together. Damn. Who care's if it's Jay's girlfriend? By the looks of it, Jay seems entirely into it too. And for a minute, you almost forgot that this was a dare. So, you pull back with a gentle smile at her. Landing one more kiss to her nose before scooting back and off of her lap. She looks at you through dark eyes after the act. As if the two of you are no longer just acquaintances, and you choose to take note of that for later. Surely you'll be seeing her again. Only after you've sat back and grabbed a new drink did you take note of the two men in the room. Jay appears to be a bit more touchy with his girlfriend now, you watch him pinch and pull at her with a drunken smile and little hidden whispers before you turn your attention to Jake.

God, you've heard of how fun the guy is. But fucking hell he's shameless. You see the bulge in his pants and the way he spreads his legs out wide with that smile on his face. Only briefly do you note the way he lays his hand across his lap, gently rubbing his knuckles along the length of his hidden cock before he speaks with a new voice.

"Come, sit." He croaks, voice deeper and almost velvety as he uses that same hand to tap his lap. "It's your turn babe, make it good." He follows up after you do exactly as he says, right against your ear, breath fanning your neck. And you can feel the way he intentionally twitches under your ass as a form of encouragement. And of course, you do make the next round even better than the last.

[bucknastysbabe]

criston cole in a greens win au really is the kingmaker if he’s cucking aegon. slapped a crown on the king and now he’s making bastard kids to go on the throne. u go king.

Now I must write a blurb hnghhhh cuckingggg this is prob ass bc I’m sick rotting in bed with flubonic plague but OH WELL

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dayne!reader, greens win AU, Criston is dark and manipulative, Aegon sad sacking around the place, cukolding, exhibitionism, breeding kink, crispy creme pie, infidelity, v!fingering, oral (m!receiving), pnv!sex, no beta I die like Ned stark, jealousy, one-sided-ish

Taglist: @starogeorgina @moncherri @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @valeskafics @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @lovelykhaleesiii

Do Your Job - C.Cole

Criston stopped caring long ago, pulling himself out of the layered filth of blood, gore, and dirt. Bodies of his men. The butcher’s ball they called it. Criston made sure that the Winter’s Wolves, Benjicot Blackwood, and Roddy the Ruin got a nice death by dragon. After some torture.

He saw through with that, as the Hand of the King and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Criston had to attend to such matters. Such as what to do with Rhaenyra’s last child. Or the fucking mess that was Aegon. Aemond was still lurking around Harrenhal— said to return when his child was born. Aegon meanwhile, made Criston’s blood boil. Alicent was a maddened gnat in his ear.

Aegon had been recently remarried to a Dayne of Starfall, seeking out the ashen hair and Valyrian eyes of the Dornish house. She was gorgeous, eager to please, and could suck Criston’s prick under his desk for hours. The adorable queen had trouble with Aegon— considering the man was a bag of shattered bones and burns. The maesters had been attending to the two’s fertility plan.

She was not hard to woo, seeking Cole’s comforts as Aegon still wanted to hoard playthings and whores, uncaring much of his wife at the moment. He bedded her regularly— but they had to be careful with his bad leg and hip. Criston’s little star, beautiful as one, was the shiniest thing in the dreary keep by far. But horribly lonely, so he’d been keeping an eye, asking the Queen to help him with letters and tasks of the realm.

It wasn’t long before she was in his lap crying about how terrible the Red Keep was. Criston had his proverbial claws sunk deep into her by then. He meant his words of praise, how special his star was, and meant doubly on how much he too hated the Keep. Criston’s fingers crawled up her dress as he cooed, bringing the girl to likely her first orgasm since arriving.

They sat together in the Hand’s foyer, Ser Cole writing a letter to some raucous lordling. He ran a hand through his hair and sat back, dark eyes meeting a strange indigo of sorts. “Have there been any advancements with the maesters and your womb?” She shook her head, blush dusting her cheeks.

“Go on, what’s the issue my star?”

She leaned over the table to grip his hands, pleading in her body language. “Do not grow wroth when I tell you this okay?” Criston nodded, there was no chance he would not be pissed. Just a feeling. The Dayne sighed, “He’s impotent but he swears it’s me, I don’t know, they’ve started transferring his, seed, into me. By now I’m not sure, he berates me about it.” Criston’s eyes narrowed and she squeaked.

The smaller figure was picked up by him, striding to the King’s chambers. Where Aegon was like to be making two court favorites defile themselves. The queen begged, “My lord, please, I know you feel strongly for me but-“

He growled, “No!,” then softer, “No. He’s being a fool, a lady’s desire should help the process. I’ll oversee you two. We need heirs to the throne.”

He kicked open the door, startling a half-awake Aegon. Criston gently laid the Queen on the bed then turned to a glaring Targaryen. Aegon’s burnt face twisted in annoyance, slightly slurring, “The hell is going on here Cole?” A goblet of wine sat in front of him— of course he was drinking.

Criston folded his arms. “You’re drunk right now? It’s barely even past midday.”

“Sorry, one tends to get bored when his wife would rather cavort around with the Hand,” he acridly spat back.

She protested from behind, “Alright, I can stay around, it’s fine!”

Criston eyed his star and back to Aegon. He asked “You have a beauty like that and can’t fill her belly with seed? You have the maesters stuff her like a turkey instead? Pathetic.”

Aegon’s form shook with rage, reaching for his crutch, Criston swiftly kicking it out of the way with a clatter. Aegon barked, “I’m your goddamn king, bring that back now! Maybe she’s the one barren, dirtied by lowborn seed!”

That little fucker! Criston’s eye twitched. He had not put his cock into her sacred place but now? Someone had to do the job— and it would be him. The taller brunette forced Aegon’s chair closer to the bed, the king hissing in pain, violet eyes wide. Cole chastised, “Since you’re so smart, I’ll do a little test, see if my lowborn cock has sullied her womb.” Aegon’s soft face pulled into a frown, squirming in position.

Criston began to pull at his gauntlets in quick snaps, then the bracers, and the chest plate along with the heavy shoulders. He decided to keep his chain of hands on as an ego boost. Lowborn cock raised to the second highest position in the realm, doing the highest position’s job.

Dayne stared at him, eyes flicking to the strangely silent Aegon, then back. Criston smiled at the queen, winding a tan hand into her ashen locks. He murmured, “Don’t worry dearest, we’ll have you feeling wonderful in no time, right your Grace?” Aegon remained stone cold— lips pouting.

The hand began to ease off the simple Dornish layers of her dress, baring that gorgeous body. How could she not be fertile? His star was all curves and soft skin, she would be great as a mother. Criston told her that, earning a whine, her legs wrapped around his waist. He panted to the king, “First, they need to be actually attracted to you.”

Cole pressed lush kisses to her neck and shoulders, his big hand testing the waters between her thighs. She was a little wet, not yet how he could get the Dayne, sopping. He rasped just for her ears, “Relax for me, he’s so jealous you might get an obedient king. Gorgeous star doesn’t know her own wiles.” She writhed a bit, tits pressed tight against flat chest.

“Oh, oh, there my Lord,” the blonde panted.

Criston was pumping one finger into her velvet heat, sliding in a second one to crook upwards. His thumb swirled around her swollen bud. He laughed carelessly at Aegon, whose scarred hands dug into the sides of his chair, puffy lips open. The brunette snarked, “See how easy it is not to be a selfish prick? It’s quite rewarding to make your lady come— although I think she’s already too attached to me.”

The king whined softly.

The queen moaned louder, crying Criston’s name and wetting his fingers further. The knight pulled from her full tits, purposely working her cunt over while asking. “Doesn’t that feel good little star? Don’t you wish your King would take care of you like that?” The queen gasped and mewled, cheeks a deep flush, eyes guiltily looking over at the squirming Aegon.

Criston patted her cheek, pressing a kiss over plump lips. Inky eyes and smug lips turned again to talk down to the Targaryen. He added in a dark voice, “Obviously you can’t do the fucking job so I will until you get it up and pump her with a blonde one. Although I am quite attached myself, she’s a wonderful little star. I’m going to fuck her good and thorough. Our first time too.”

Aegon whined, begging, “Ser, stop, I didn’t know, don’t!” But his hard cock was pulsing and the king had made no attempt to call for help. He couldn’t move either, the crutch out of his grasp. Aegon watched Criston work his wife into a peak, her pretty breasts heaving, thighs twitching. Utterly gorgeous. Jealousy swelled within his burnt chest.

The Dayne beauty sloppily mouthed against Criston’s mouth, trailing down to press kisses against his lower belly, grabbing his cock before asking. “You want to impregnate me sir? Give me an heir?” She could almost explode at the thought. Criston nodded, eyes hazy as her plump lips enveloped his cock, hands expert on rolling his balls and the other working in tandem with that warm mouth.

Aegon made a gutted noise.

Criston groaned deeply, watching his length disappear down velvet throat. The queen kept her indigo eyes on him, teary and wide. Fucking beautiful. He swallowed down a weak noise and rasped to Aegon, “She’s quite good at this, willing to please and eager to learn your Grace. But there you are, quickly back to your old ways.” She shuddered at the praise, Criston easing his star off so the real fun could begin.

He murmured, “On your back sweetling.” He pecked her once, shivering at the taste of him. The queen laid on her back, instinctively tucking a pillow under her hips. Criston rumbled, playfully giving her ass a smack. “Good girl, mmm, you just want to be a mama hm?” The shared noises of Aegon and his Queen made the Knight laugh.

He eased himself on top, making sure her thick thighs spread around his waist. The knight laid forward, grinning and nuzzling her nervous face. He cooed, “You’re safe with me star, pretty baby, doing so good.” Her arms slunk around his shoulders, their bodies fitting with together as Criston eased himself into her slick, swollen folds.

Fuck, she was tight and pulsing already, inner walls aiming to milk the man. Lady Dayne cried out, busty tits heaving as she was filled up by Ser Criston’s heavy cock. It was foreign, having so much care put into her pleasure. She moaned in surprise when he bottomed out, rasping nonsense against her neck.

Aegon sniveled now, watching his Queen get something he couldn’t possibly provide. Ser Criston, the crafty fucker, already worked his magic and cock into his queen. The blonde regretted many an action against his wonderful wife— seeing how she mooned over fucking Cole. Cole; a common born conniving oathbreaking madman, he truly enjoyed seeing suffering and agony. But there he was, giggling and gently fucking Aegon’s queen, the picture of chivalry. He needed more wine, and to tug his miserable cock.

Criston hiked her legs up, the back of her knees in the crooks of his arms— a mating press. She cried out, little hands scrabbling at his shoulders, eyes getting teary with pleasure. He moaned low, forcefully fucking himself inside her tight cunt, making sure she could feel every little drag and thrust. She mewled in ecstasy, “Criston, Ser, breed me, breed me please! Ohh I want it, need it!”

He grinned at Aegon’s sobs and pulling of his own prick. Criston teased “You want my seed star? Want to be all pretty and round, knowing your Lord Hand made you swell? Tits and hips so ripe for me, such a pretty mother you’ll make.” She tightened around him, arching her back, practically drooling. He focused on fucking her deep, swiping his thumb around her button, earning the cutest little mewls.

“Yes! Gods yes! Criston,” she howled, clamping down on his prick. He pressed his lips to hers, grunting as he fucked her to the point of no return. He cooed at his cute little star crying out her peak, gushing all over his still-moving cock. She weeped, “Please, give me your seed, want to be a mama, please!” Cole couldn’t deny her request, groaning long and low as his tummy tightened, emptying pump after pump of his cum into her tight pussy. He bit his lip bloody in the process, feeling feral, but the knight wouldn’t tear her skin like that.

He let go of her legs, gently holding her canted hips, humming, “How long do they say wait Aeg?”

A sharp cry, gasp, and tortured, “15 minutes.”

The Dayne didn’t even seem to be worried about her broken husband, smiling and holding Criston’s big hands. She kissed at each knuckle, eyes full of adoration and love. How they should be. How he deserved all along. What a special little star.

The first two came out with brown hair and eyes, sending a familiar shock across the keep. Then the third had ashen hair, just like the Queen. Mayhaps the Targaryen gene wasn’t that strong within Aegon, people whispered. Criston would smile, not indulging a secret. He’d rub her pretty bump alone, let Aegon play the daddy. He did alright enough.

[ncteez]

On Edge. (m.l)

Dating the strict, well-liked, and loving Doyoung came with its hurdles. Normally, the two of you could communicate and work through the downsides, but what if the newest downside of the relationship is learning that his little brother, Mark, has a bit of a thing for you?

ao3 | m.list | minors dni !! | if you read it, reblog it. 

WORDCOUNT― 22.5k

PAIRING― mark lee x fem reader | doyoung  x fem reader

CONTENT― doyoung is 27, reader is 25, mark is 22. boyfriend doyoung, perverted/shy college boy mark, panty stealing, hidden intimacy, needy mark, dom-ish doyoung in smaller/less detailed smut scenes, reader is definitely a switch depending on who she is looking at, uh, brief mention of haechan raging at mark through a headset while he gets pleasured lmao

WARNINGS― infidelity that doesn’t get exposed, foot job but only bc i can’t figure out how to write a scene like this if it’s not her foot lmao

NOTE― not me back at it again with the cheating fics. Idk, i have a thing for mark cucking but also hidden things, and the idea of having both of them :D no, i do not condone cheating..  shoutout to my wife and other ultimate mark fucker @mrkis​ for discussing and brainstorming this shit with me, also for editing it and fixing all of my embarrassing typos.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― infidelity,  rough doyoung, mark listens through the walls, tons of masturbation, he also steals panties and gets caught and embarrassed by reader, mentions of double penetration, lil under the table moment with mark, foot job but i swear im not into feet just hear me out ok? It’s brief i swear, sexting and phone sex, reach-around hand job, mark isn’t entirely subby when he finally gets his dick wet, penetration, pet names, g-spot stimulation, cream pie, unprotected sex, 

             The two years you’ve spent so far with Doyoung can arguably be considered the best of your life. He’s accommodating, listens to all of your problems, touches you in all of the right ways, and he’s even well-liked by your parents. You love your boyfriend enough to spend countless nights at his place just to get away from your own. It’s comfortable there, and feels like home, whereas your own apartment just feels empty without him. 

             The relationship felt very adult. He was the first boyfriend to stay with you longer than a couple of months, the first one to have his own house, job, money, and car. The two of you were equal, comfortable, and happily in love. Anyone could trust that both of you were running towards the path of marriage, and you’d agree with them if it wasn’t for the fact that your eye is dangerously landing on someone else lately.

             In your defense, your eyes didn’t linger before Mark, Doyoung’s younger brother, moved in. You had no interest in anyone aside from Doyoung. But– Mark is really something else. Cute, loud, obnoxious, and even charming at times. Still, you’ve caught him countless times staring for too long at your legs when you wear shorts around the house, lingering in the room when Doyoung has his lips on yours, and even stuttering through conversations with you after a wild night in the bedroom with his older brother. 

             It was cute at first, but as the months went on, you started staring at Mark a little more. You’d note that he gets flustered easily but can’t bring himself to leave any given situation that causes such a reaction. He gets hard sometimes too, you can see it, and occasionally you can hear him take care of it too. 

             The first night you heard it, Doyoung was sound asleep next to you after a long, drawn-out session of putting you in your place(sexually). You were comfortable beside him, listening to his soft snores and finally settling yourself in to close your eyes and sleep too.

             It was so silent, the entire house seemed as empty as it always had been outside of you and your boyfriend, except for the fact that Mark is in this house now too. You shoot an eye open at the sound of a muffled moan through the wall. You could tell he tried to prevent it, noticing that it appeared to be choked back almost as quickly as he let it fall from his lips.

             You lay there, first attempting to sleep but ultimately falling victim to the thoughts of what Mark must have been doing just a wall over. You felt guilty about the images, imagining how cute he must look tugging at himself and whimpering, frustrated at how he can’t make a sound. Mark knows how thin the walls are, you’re sure of it. Even you and Doyoung have tried to be quieter so Mark doesn’t have to hear it and feel uncomfortable. 

             The choked-back sounds he was letting out every few minutes only furthered your thoughts into the danger zone. You realized you wanted to watch him. You wanted to help him. As Mark hit his high, you hear his bed frame hit the wall one time, hard. The image of him lying on his back and fucking against his fist was long gone, now images of what position he could have been in for the bed to hit the wall fills your mind. What was he doing? 

 ~

 “Good morning sunshine!” You sing out to your boyfriend when he rounds the corner in a sleepy show of how much he doesn’t want to go to work today. He’s already dressed but you can see the darkened bags under his drooping, half-open eyes. 

             You don’t often make breakfast for him, not that he minds at all, you just felt guilty about listening in on Mark doing his thing again last night and it’s not something you’re proud of. So yeah, maybe Doyoung gets breakfast every time his little brother jerks off, what of it? 

 “Thanks, babe,” Doyoung smiles at you weakly, looking at the warm breakfast you place in front of him. “What if I just call in today?” He asks almost immediately after, tearing his eyes from the food and up to you who had begun to fix a part of his hair that he seemed to have missed. 

 “Up to you, I’ve gotta head back to my place soon though.” You look at him, hands on your hips now as you give him another once-over. “You look tired, maybe you should call out.” 

             Doyoung takes a moment to think. What would his excuse be to miss work on a Monday morning after already having two days off? He’s sick? That wouldn’t work, he ran into one of his bosses just the night before picking up some groceries. Car trouble? Also wouldn’t work, he used that excuse last time and he swore he took his car to the shop that very day to make sure it was in tip-top shape. Death in the family? That’s just asking for bad karma. 

 “Ugh,” Doyoung sighs, picking up his fork and picking around the plate. It looks delicious, honestly, but work is the last place he wants to go right now. “How are you so awake? We stayed up so late, are your legs even tired?”

             You stop mid-step towards the fridge to grab some juice and turn to look at him. 

 “Doyoung, my legs are killing me, and it’s your fault.” 

             He lets out a small laugh, giving himself a gold star for making you come just as hard as he always did. “Yeah, guess it is my fault, isn’t it?” He prods for more compliments.

 “That aside, are you going to call out or?” 

             He shakes his head, taking a bite and trying his best to enjoy this last hour of freedom before a nine-hour workday. 

 “No, I don’t think I’d have a good excuse today. You’re going home anyway too, I’d just be bored,”

 “Umm–” Mark’s voice chimes in as he scuffs into the kitchen with socked feet. He yawns wide and side-eyes you only for a moment before flopping down on the chair next to Doyoung with his legs spread wide. He looks like such a college boy. Looking equally as tired as your boyfriend and hair far messier, you note his side eye. “Are you saying I’m too boring to hang out with?”

             You let out a small chuckle at Mark’s words, and Doyoung just groans about it. 

 “You’re still just as annoying as you’ve always been. I’d rather be wasting away at a desk than sitting here listening to you talk about the exam you’re not studying for.”

 “I don’t have exams yet?” Mark protests, looking over Doyoungs food and swiping a piece from his plate. “The semester hasn’t even started.”

 “I’m preparing for what’s to come–” Doyoung drones on in a defeated voice. 

 “Fair,” Mark smiles and looks at you. “So, um, you’re going home today?”

 “Yep, gotta go to work too.” You sigh, pointing towards the stove. “Want some food?” 

             Mark shuffles to his feet to make himself a plate with a small “thank you”, and you can’t help but notice how disappointed he sounds that you’re going home today. 

 “You’re coming over on Wednesday though, right?” Doyoung asks, sipping the mug of coffee in front of him and finally allowing himself to enjoy the food you’ve graciously made this morning. If he’s gonna have to go to work, the least he can do is feel lucky that he’s not going in on an empty stomach. 

 “What’s on Wednesday again?” You smile towards your boyfriend’s now narrowing eyes. 

 “You know what Wednesday is.”

 “Hm, no, don’t think I do–” Smiling wider at the way his eyes narrow even further.

 “What’s Wednesday?” Mark asks, setting down his plate and taking a bite. 

 “Yeah, tell him what Wednesday is,” Doyoung says in an annoyed tone, one that you can tell is a joke. He always plays along with your antics.

 “I think it’s like, national fork day or something.”

             Doyoung brings a hand to his forehead with a laugh. “Fork day? That’s all you can come up with?!”

             Mark is just confused, what’s so fucking great about forks anyway?

 “I’m joking. It’s our two-year anniversary,”

             You hear a spoon clatter to the table and a small cough. 

 “Ugh-” Mark groans, picking the cutlery up off the table and wiping the crumbs clean. “That’s cool.”

             Mark can see the way Doyoung looks at him with his reaction, but it genuinely wasn’t intentional. He just happened to drop his spoon at the wrong time and choke on his food. It wasn’t meant to be as dramatic as it sounded. Also, maybe he’s a little shocked that Doyoung managed to have a girlfriend for this long with how much of a bore he can be at times. 

 Especially someone like you. Mark feels shy at the very idea of you, not just because he’s heard what you sound like when his brother touches you, but also because you’re just, like, really pretty and it makes his thoughts go in every direction when you speak to him. Even now, just over a small breakfast, he’s disappointed that you have a job too. He’s sad that he can’t spend time in this house with you alone even though he knows well enough that he probably wouldn’t have it in him to approach you. Or does he? Knowing that from time to time, like when he first moved in, there had been some days where you stayed over and did your work-from-home stuff. He wasn’t well acquainted with you back then enough to come out and sit with you, and he’s likely not acquainted enough now either, but that doesn’t change the fact that he kind of wants to be around you without his brother taking note of the small crush he kind of maybe developed by being around you.

 ~

             Today is expected to be more exciting than your last anniversary. Mostly because it’s marking a second year with Doyoung and solidifying the fact that the two of you have made it this far without any glaring issues that could threaten the relationship. At least, no issues that Doyoung is aware of. You think that these thoughts and images of Mark swimming in your head are a phase. There’s no way you’d ever actually go through with anything involving your boyfriend’s little brother. He’s just kind of cute to see all flustered, even cuter when he tries to hide how he’s feeling regarding you. 

 Mark isn’t  there when you walk through your boyfriend’s door. Unfortunately, neither is Doyoung. Grabbing your phone and checking the time you’re distracted by the glaring text message from your boyfriend that seemed to have been sent some ten minutes ago as you got in your car for the drive over. A little wave of disappointment hits you as you stand alone in the darkened kitchen. 

             Doie: hey i’m gonna be a little late. Boss got a last minute client today like an hour before closing time so i’m gonna be here at least until 8:30, is that okay?

             The disappointment fades away with how good he is at communicating with you. Your last boyfriend who you only dated for like two months always bailed without notice on dates, ghosting you for a full day or two before explaining himself with one of the same excuses Doyoung probably uses to get out of work. You know his job is important to him, and you know the anniversary is important to him. His priority doesn’t always have to be you.

             You: Yeah that’s fine. What am i supposed to do for three hours though?I’m already at your place (sparkly eye emoji)

             Doyoung was great at texting you back too.

             Doie: you could get yourself ready for me to come home ;) 

            You: for three hours?

            Doie: yes???? or you can just go bug mark lol

             The silence in the house tells you that Mark isn’t home.

             You: he’s not here, i figured he went out to give us some privacy?

             Doyoung doesn’t respond for a few minutes, probably because he’s doing something important with his work. By the time you’ve slipped off your shoes and laid against the couch, you get the little ping on your phone.

             Doie: Oh, right, he was gonna go meet with some girl he was talking to. I figured he’d chicken out and not go lol, maybe we really will have the house to ourselves tonight ;)

             Something inside of you twisted at his message. On one hand, you’re happy that you might get the entire house with your beloved boyfriend tonight, on the other hand, you kind of don’t like the thought of Mark losing the ability to get all flustered around you if he’s got someone else doing it for him. Are you jealous? No, but you’re a little selfish. You always liked when men chased you even if you knew it would lead nowhere, even if they knew it would lead to nowhere. It was harmless fun, but now all of your fun is gonna be ruined. The last thing you want to be hearing is Mark railing some girl in his room while you’re trying to sleep. 

             You: oh yeah? lets hope we don’t have to be quiet tonight then, i have //plans//

            Doie: plans? 

            You: better do well on your work so you can come home and see <3

             With that, you set your phone down and reach for the remote. Mark is out with a girl right now? Part of you wonders how he’s navigating it, or if the girl is actually into him. The images in your head are amusing until you realize that you’re not imagining him stumbling over himself with some faceless girl. You’re imagining yourself as the girl he’s out with.

             Still, even on your anniversary, you’re bored and you’ve got some hours to kill. You sort through all sorts of images in your head. From what Mark would do if you were to reject him to what he would do if you didn’t reject him. How he would act if you were leaning in to kiss him, or how he would react if you kissed his neck, started touching his stomach, trailing your hands down– straight until you’re assuming that Mark must be getting a hand job somewhere right now. A little disappointed that it’s not you, you laugh at yourself. 

             Silly thoughts like these are normal, and you’re sure Doyoung has them too. Despite the fact that you’d be weirded out if it were about your little sister if you had one. You’re not hurting anyone passing the time and thinking about how things would go with Mark. Surely not. Doyoung was never shy toward you. Always shooting his shot in charming and convincing ways that have managed to lead to a two-year relationship that’s still going strong. He didn’t leave as much to the imagination at the beginning of your relationship, nor does he now. You can’t even imagine Doyoung being insecure or lacking confidence in anything he does, but then there’s Mark. The little brother appears to live in the shadow of Doyoung. From Mark attending college for the same thing to wanting the same woman that Doyoung is in love with. 

             Are you too full of yourself for chuckling about that? Laughing at the fact that he’s so entirely different from your boyfriend but that’s the exact reason you find yourself fantasizing about the ‘what if’s’ with him? Now the thought of what Mark would do if he knew you were thinking about him this way infiltrates your mind. Would he panic? Surely. Would he blush? Oh yeah, for sure. Would he try to play it off as a joke until realizing you’re serious, visibly shivering as you watch him imagine? Oh– would he tell Doyoung? Would he get cocky? So many thoughts that are both scary, cute, and…hot. 

             You look at the clock on your phone again and realize how slowly the time is passing. Mark’s out getting tugged at by some girl, Doyoung is at work being an obedient employee, and what are you doing? Sitting on the couch in a daze as if you’ve just smoked the biggest blunt full of the most high-quality weed.

             Glancing around a bit, you shake your head at a specific thought. Mark’s room.

 ~

             Against your better judgment and several hours on hand to spend, you find yourself in Mark’s room. You didn’t know why your legs carried you here, but then again you kind of did. Curiosity. You didn’t really plan on snooping or anything, you just kind of wanted to see how he lives when he’s by himself. You wanted to see if he made his bed or folded his clothes, and when you note that the loser definitely does not do either of those things, a flash of pastel blue is catching your attention.

             In the mess of Mark’s room, monochrome colors of black and grey come through the most. From sweatpants to band t-shirts, you weren’t expecting to see a glimmer of pastel silk peeking from under one of his pillows. 

             It wouldn’t have caught your attention if it wasn’t for the fact that you recognize the color and even remember the day you purchased them. Those are your panties stuffed under Mark’s pillow. 

             You find yourself smirking in an evil kind of way as you make your way toward the dainty fabric and pull it from the pillow. You can confirm it now, they’re yours, and you remember wearing them just the past weekend you were over. It was normal for you to leave some of your laundry at Doyoung’s place after staying the weekend, it’s not like you weren’t here multiple times a week or anything. 

             Mark must have taken them from the laundry basket in the bathroom. The thought of him that morning when you made breakfast, acting as casual and normal as ever. The harsher thought of how you listened to him again after Doyoung had fallen asleep the night before, furiously reaching his climax. 

             You spread the fabric against your fingers and laugh at the stain on them. This must have been what he was using that night, thinking of you, surely, right? God, Doyoung would kill him if he found out.

             And just as you go to look around to see if he’s stolen more of your intimate wares, you hear the front door open, and you panic, shoving the panties into your back pocket and rushing out of his room to the bathroom just across the hallway.

             In your slight panic, you manage to stand by the bathroom door and listen to the footsteps coming down the hallway. It’s definitely Mark because Doyoung would have called you to let you know he was coming home. Checking the clock again, it’s barely six and you’ve now got two or so hours pretending that you didn’t just find your panties in Mark’s room. Or, maybe, you don’t have to pretend. Maybe you can just fluster and embarrass him more now. 

             You reach over and flush the toilet and then step to the sink to actually wash your hands because you definitely were just handling cum-stained panties, and then you step out of the bathroom acting surprised that he’s here.

 “Oh!” You exclaim, stepping out of the bathroom and looking directly at Mark through his bedroom door as he’s in the middle of throwing himself against the bed in frustration. “Hey, didn’t think you’d be here today?”

             Mark nearly jumps out of his skin despite knowing someone was in the bathroom. He wasn’t expecting to be addressed by you or Doyoung today.

 “Yeah, me neither.” He groans, throwing his hand over his face. “You scared the fuck outta me–”

 “Aw, why so nervous?” You ask, taking a step forward and leaning against the doorframe to his room, crossing your arms. “Doyoung said you were on a date or something,”

             Mark groans again, lifting his back from the mattress to sit up and shaking his head in defeat. The fact that you’re talking to him right now only makes him feel worse. He’s embarrassed enough by the happenings of the past hour or so, now he has to sit here and answer your questions about it?

 “Yeah, I was supposed to be but she ended up just using me as a ploy.” 

             You only chuckle because of course that’s the type of shit that’ll happen to him, but also like, you’re kind of glad the date wasn’t a date, even if he didn’t know it.

 “A ploy?”

 “Turns out, she was just trying to make some guy jealous. He literally served us. ”

 “Oh yeah? Then what happened?” You question, prying now. 

 “When he was coming up to the table, she told me to kiss her so I did. Then as soon as he walked away, she was back on her phone and texting. She accidentally texted me I guess, saying that ‘the plan is working, he’s definitely jealous’.” Mark mocks the text message in a whiny voice.

             You laugh a little louder this time, eyes darting to the pillow he had your panties tucked under.

 “Why are you laughing? I am miserable.” Mark is casual when he talks about it, but you note that he lets out a small chuckle too. “Why would someone even use me to make a guy jealous?”

             You freeze for a second. Here’s your first opening.

 “Because you’re cute?”

             Mark freezes now too, glancing away from you with what you think is that shyness you’d seen so much before. It was definitely shyness. Out of everything that’s just happened, at least you think he’s cute, but it’s not like he can have you or actually use your compliment as an ego boost considering you’re dating his big brother.

 “Anyway,” You offer an out, noting his avoidance a little more now that you know what he’s been doing in his free time with your personal items. “Doyoung will be home later for our anniversary, sorry for what you’re gonna hear later–” 

             Second opening.

 “I know it’s weird to ask but I left a cute pair of panties last time I was here. They’re his favorite. I can’t find them.”

             Mark stands to his feet quickly and casually throws his jacket over the pillow you had pulled them from earlier. Upon the very mention of your panties, he feels caught like he’s got three shining spotlights directed at him to tell you he stole them. 

 “I don’t know, what color were they?” He awkwardly asks, trying to avoid looking at you, not even questioning that you’re asking him when you’ve never so much as asked what he does in his free time. He can’t even tell that he’s telling on himself right now. 

 “Light blue, silk.” You deadpan, looking at him.

 “Oh, I might have seen them in the laundry. I’ll go look.”

             Before you can even protest, Mark is shuffling past you and rushing towards the laundry room. You follow behind him casually, not in the slightest bit of a hurry.

 “I already checked in here. The dirty laundry too.”

 “Did you check Doyoung’s drawers? He did laundry yesterday, they’re probably in there.” 

             Mark is talking so fast that it’s almost sad. Still, it’s fun.

 “Smart boy.” You compliment with a finger in the air, walking towards Doyoung’s room just to see what Mark would do next when you tell him they’re not there. 

             You lazily look through all of your panties stuffed into Doyoung’s drawers and head back out to Mark’s room. Quietly, you peek around the door and only laugh at him when you see his pillow is overturned and he’s digging through a clothes pile in the corner of his room on the floor. The fact that he didn’t even close his door is hilarious, but you imagine it was an afterthought considering time was against him.

 “Did you find them?” You ask, watching him nervously stop searching and stay in place on the floor facing away from you. You could practically tell the cold sweat that hit him.

 “N-no.” He says quickly. “Did you?” 

 “Yep.” You say, pulling the panties out of your pocket.

             Mark relaxes, choosing to believe that somehow, the panties he had tucked under his pillow managed to walk themselves to the laundry room, step into the washer, then the dryer, and then place themselves neatly into Doyoung’s drawer. Never will he let himself think that you found them, or even worse, Doyoung.

             When his shoulders relax and he turns to look at you, you see him stiffen up just as much as before when you swing the panties around your finger, stopping to present them in a way that shows the massive cum stain. 

 “Guess Doyoung needs to find a new favorite, huh?” You joke, tossing them onto Mark’s bed and walking away. 

             As you walk down the hallway with a smile on your face you can hear Mark’s frantic footsteps rush up behind you. 

 “Wait! It’s not–” He tries to explain the situation away. “It’s not what it looks like!”

 “My panties under your pillow aren't what it looks like?” You turn to face him at the end of the hallway, and with the way he was quickly following you, he runs directly into you and has to stumble back from the close proximity of you in front of him. He’s never even touched you before. Never hugged you, prodded you, or even looked at you for too long when your eyes were already on him. 

 “No,” He goes to say, but you interrupt him. 

 “Mark, you’re lucky it was me who found them and not your brother.” 

 “I know,” Mark stutters out, looking to the floor. “But really, I didn’t mean to-”

 “If you didn’t mean for me to find them, you should have stuffed them further back. They were hanging out for anyone to see, Mark.”

             He stops for a moment. You’re telling him how he should have hidden them?

 “Wait–” 

             Only now does Mark realize your comment of Doyoung needing to find a new favorite pair of underwear before you toss them back on his bed. He’s gotta be thinking too positively to imagine you’re giving him the panties and offering tips on how to keep them from Doyoung, right? Like you only gave them back because you’re disgusted by him, right? 

 “Really, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I took them.”

             And admittance. You feel like you’ve won the game, and you’re definitely in the position to ask more questions. 

 “Why did you take them in the first place?” You ask, taking a step towards him to make him feel overwhelmed. 

             Mark takes another step back, feeling frozen when his eyes glance up at yours. He can’t pull his eyes away this time with the way you’re looking at him. There’s a smirk against your lips and he can’t sense a single bit of anger. Cautiously, he tries to make another excuse. 

 “I don’t know why.” He deadpans, staring down at you as you look at him and take another step forward. 

 “I think we both know why you stole them.” You smile wider, lifting slightly to where you’re just inches from his face. “Did you think of me?”

 “Yeah,” He sighs out, somewhat lost in your gaze as if he has managed to become hypnotized by the way you’re speaking with him. Then he shakes himself out of it, taking a step back with a muttered out string of “I mean, no!” 

                        You close in against him just as you did before, not allowing him to escape the hold you have on him. You’re just as close as you were before he stepped back, and you continue. 

 “You did? Do you listen in on what Doyoung does to me too?”

             Mark takes another step back, this time knowing full well that you’ll just follow him again. And you do, practically walking him back through the hallway and against the wall after passing his room. 

 “I mean,” He admits. “Sometimes.” 

             You smile as he tries to back himself up further against the wall. 

 “Why not all the time?” You follow up, watching the way his lip quivers a bit from the nervousness within him. Unbearably cute is what Mark is at this moment, trapped and caught. 

 “You guys get too quiet, I guess?” He answers as if it’s his own question, wondering if it’s what you want to hear. His belly is doing flips though, admitting these things to you and feeling as if you’ll make fun of him, mock him, tell on him.

 “You’re too quiet sometimes too.” You smile before backing away and turning to walk back toward the end of the hallway. 

             Mark hangs his head wondering what the fuck just happened and if you were actually implying certain things toward him. He can barely bring himself to care that you hear him masturbate. He tries to be quiet, honestly, he does. But it’s hard sometimes when he’s rubbing his cock against the silk of the panties you just gave back to him, even harder when he’s hearing you through the walls and he imagines if you’d make the same sounds for him. 

             Pulled from his thoughts, he hears you turn the volume up on the tv before shouting at him.

 “Oh, and Mark?” You say, waiting for him to respond quietly from out of view.

 “Yeah?” He responds as he makes his way back to his room. 

 “I’ll make sure to be louder tonight.” 

             Mark closes his bedroom door feeling like his body is on fire and like his mind is spiraling into a place where it shouldn’t be. 

 ~

             When Doyoung got home, Mark made it his mission to not step foot out of his bedroom until the two of you were passed out. Thankfully, he had taken a quick bathroom break while also trying to avoid letting you hear that he left his room right before Doyoung came back.

             Mark almost feels like prey right now, but he’s entirely too confused about the entire situation. He tried to be a good person and not fantasize about his brother’s girlfriend by making a tinder profile, but even now as he scrolls through all of the pretty faces, he knows that none of them would just let him steal their panties like you did. Not that it’s a hobby of his or anything, he saw your panties and he took the chance to give him a better orgasm next time around. Now he’s kind of obsessed with the idea though.

             He had already placed the panties back under his pillow and stuffed them further back by now, and hearing you and Doyoung in the living room doing couple-things didn’t really help the confusion in his head. If you’re in there all lovey-dovey with his brother, why did you get up so close to him earlier? Why did you offer to be louder for him? Why did you do any of what you did?

             It felt wrong that everything just made him want you more. Before, he was just being a horny guy, but now he’s like, maybe only horny for you.

             Maybe it’s just a phase, surely it’ll pass. He loves his brother.. Then he finds himself questioning if that’s the truth as the night goes on. 

             Jealousy is a hateful demon. When he hears the shuffling into Doyoung’s room and the giggles coming from both of you, Mark almost wants to hit someone. Why can’t he have that? Why does Doyoung always get to experience the good things in life?

             Not only was Mark used by some pretty girl today, he is now being shown yet again what he can’t have and will probably never have. The jealousy is only worse now, as he faceplants into his pillow and considers moving back in with his parents so that way he can stop wanting what his brother has. 

             The consideration is furthered when he grows frustrated at the sounds of you through the wall. He can even hear Doyoung shush you a few times. Against Mark’s will, his cock starts to grow against the mattress and his thigh, fingers now tucking further under the pillow to find those silk panties that caused his ultimate demise today.

             When he runs his fingers along the fabric, still tucked beneath the pillow, he whines to himself at how pathetic it is for him to keep doing this. Only when he realizes that you’re over there being fucked and being loud specifically for him to hear does he pull them out and roll over onto his back.

             All confusion and worry is left behind now as he replaces those anxieties with the idea of you grinding against him while wearing these panties. He thinks about how you like it, how you move your body, what you’d do with your hands. 

             His cock twitches to be free just a few moments later and he doesn’t think twice about lowering his sweatpants and staring down at himself. He sighs in defeat, noting how much harder he is now compared to the nights before when he weakly worked himself up to the faint sounds of you

             From across the wall though, you’re enjoying yourself far too much. Mark kind of falls into the back of your guilty mind as your boyfriend loves on you. Doyoung came home excited, a hand was on you the entire time from the moment he walked through the door until now. Both hands are on you now as he praises you and pries your legs open. Usually, Doyoung was rougher. He’d do things that drive you insane, edge you, and deny you pleasure over and over again until he felt it was time to let you let go. The added attempts to be silent only made it more fun for your boyfriend, gagging you with his cock, fingers, or even your own panties. Tonight was a little different considering it marks the two-year anniversary of his relationship with you.

             The plan you had for Doyoung tonight was for him to use a new toy on you that you’d bought in secret. He always wanted to try double penetration with you but was never willing to share you, and you don’t mind. You still wanted to fulfill one of his fantasies though, and that’s what the intention was. To your surprise though, Doyoung leaves the toy still in its package on the table and has been eating you out for a solid twenty minutes already.

             He’s focusing on you entirely at this moment and it’s got your head spinning with the way his wet tongue flicks your clit while his lips envelop the entire bud. He’s so good at it, and usually only does this when you’ve been extra good for him like if you willingly choke on his entire length or you let him overstimulate you to the point that getting head from him is painful. 

             His head is between your legs lapping away and all you can do is groan out for him, enjoying the way he’s being gentle and pointed with his tongue. His hands go from your legs to keep them from crushing his head to reaching up to massage your tits. He doesn’t even try to silence you, and you’re thankful to keep your promise to Mark despite not actually trying to right now. And when Doyoung pulls his head back for a breath, he looks up at you and smiles in such a genuine way that it has your heart crashing with the amount of love you have for him. 

             Doyoung loses patience with giving you head after the thirty-minute mark. He wanted to make you come this way and make it last as long as possible, but now he’s feeling neglected and the image of you with that toy you got for him to use is burning images in his mind the more he hears you moan for him. 

 “Changed my mind,” Doyoung speaks out as he pulls back from your core and abandons your clit entirely. He hears you whimper at the loss of pressure and always loved the way you sounded when you did it. He finds himself reaching for the toy a little quicker than he already was.

 “Play with yourself while I get this ready,” He smiles at you, giving you a quick kiss to the forehead before fumbling with the box. 

 ~

             The fact that Mark could hear his brother tell you to play with yourself made him feel insane. Only because of the way you started moaning again and gave him more to think about. The thought of walking in on you one day with your fingers inside of yourself, not quite reaching where you want them to, asking him to take over for you.

             Mark almost wants to put his ear to the wall and takes a moment to ask himself why he wouldn’t do that anyway. He wants to hear you.

             Cock still in hand and tangled against your panties, he shuffles to his feet and presses his ear against the wall. You sound much more clear now, He chokes back his own moan, knowing you’d probably hear it more clearly too considering how loud he is. Knowing you could hear him means Doyoung would also hear him, so he tries his best to hold it back as he starts thrusting himself against the silk in his hand.

             He did well until he heard a choked-out whimper, a slap, and some crude words coming from his brother’s lips. On any other day of listening in, his hard-on would instantly go down hearing his brother but what he says to you through these thin as fuck walls has Mark choking back his own whimper.

 “You like being stuffed with two?” Mark heard at first, followed by another whimper from you. “You’re so wet, it slid right in beside me–”

             Mark can’t even imagine what’s being done to you right now but he can tell you’re loving it in the way your whimpers turn to full-fledged moans that he’s never heard before. 

 “Oh, fuck–” Mark groans out towards himself, looking down at his painfully hard cock against your panties. He starts to move his hand this time, faster than what his hips were doing. Only part of him is trying to match the sounds of skin slapping skin, moving his hand much faster than what he’s hearing happen to you. He’s sure you’d moan like that for him too. Wouldn’t even need two to make you be so loud, surely. 

             And then he’s starting to shake, rolling his head a bit to where his forehead is against the wall. Shamelessly, he whispers his own words to you as he begins to release against your panties. Words of, ‘yeah, you like that?’ and “Better than him, right?” 

             When Mark backs away from the wall, allowing the muffled sound of your loud moaning to be further and further from his ear, he collapses on his bed in a deep breath and then trails his eyes back over towards the wall. You’re right there. You know exactly what he was doing in here but now he can’t tell if you were actually being loud because you told him you would, or if it’s because Doyoung really is that good. 

             The jealousy hits again. It isn’t fair.

 ~

                        It’s been days since your anniversary and now that work is finished, you get to head back over for your regular weekend with Doyoung. Except you wonder how awkward it’s going to be. The soreness between your legs has gotten better but the guilt of how Mark avoided you the next morning got worse. 

             You think you should leave it be, you should just let him have those panties and pretend it never happened, pretend you never flirted with him, and pretend you didn’t tell him that you listen to him masturbate too. You went too far on your fucking anniversary then proceeded to fall even more in love with Doyoung.

             Thankfully, you didn’t go far enough to where it couldn’t be salvaged, so when you leave today, you have the promise in your head that you will leave it alone. You will leave Mark alone and go back to what you were with Doyoung before you ever fantasized about his little brother.

             Except that doesn’t happen because the moment you walk in and see Mark lounging by himself on the couch, shirtless, you find yourself avoiding him more than he was avoiding you. Though he immediately got up with a small apology and rushed towards his room, you had to stop yourself from turning around and going straight back home. Doyoung is there though, back turned towards you as he stirs something in a bowl. 

 “Hey, can you come to help me?” He asks, glancing at you from over his shoulder and showing the smallest glimpse of something smeared against his cheek. 

             Your heart warms at how domestic he looks right now, kicking your shoes off and heading towards him with your weekend bag. 

 “I'll be back in a minute, let me put my bag in your room.” You say, coming up behind him and planting a kiss on his shoulder. He nods to you before you walk out and towards his room.

             Mark’s door is closed and you’re thankful for it as the image of his stupidly attractive shirtless body appears in your mind again. It’s stupid, honestly, you have a whole Doyoung in the kitchen waiting for you, who will probably make you come a minimum of three times tonight, and you’re panic-walking past his little brother’s bedroom because you’re incredibly fucking attracted to him. 

             Stupid. 

 ~

             The self-control you once had is no longer present in your head. The plan to leave it be is less and less attractive in your brain the more you take in the image of Mark in front of you at the table texting away on his phone. You watch him shamelessly as Doyoung goes back and forth in the kitchen. You’re almost completely skewed from his view as you sit here across from Mark. He’s wearing a shirt now, and only glancing at you from time to time but still not saying anything.

             What happened to you avoiding him? No, what happened to him avoiding you? 

             From under the table, you gently kick against his leg to get his attention and his eyes snap up toward you. You look down though, ignoring him instead. But your leg stays there, occasionally kicking against him just to see how long it takes for him to stop reacting to it. 

             Scrolling through your own phone now, you’re swiping through videos, listening to Doyoung clattering through the cupboards, and feeling incredibly warm sitting in front of Mark. You don’t know what’s gotten into you when it comes to him, honestly. (It’s not like you knew how hard he came during your anniversary celebration.) 

             Finally, you slowly trail your eyes back up to his face and note that he does the same, at the exact same time. The two of you share a moment of silence looking at each other. You could almost feel his eyes pull you in without intent. It feels dangerous just to look at him, seeing him in a newer light than what you’d seen in him when it was just amusement on your end. You wonder if he can tell. Probably not.

             He doesn’t look away from you, and you’re not sure why. He just stays still, silent, blinking back at you. Maybe he’s being pulled in too, like a secret agreement communicated just through eye contact. The electricity in the space between the two of you is nothing short of dangerous. Your body almost acts on its own when you raise your lips into a half smile at him and plant your foot on the chair between his legs.

             Still keeping eye contact, you watch him jump at the action but he doesn’t move or push your foot away. Instead, he’s breaking eye contact and looking down, staring down, really, at how your socked foot is planted directly between his legs.

             He doesn’t move, trailing his eyes back to you now with a curious look. You continue, pressing your foot forward just slightly. Mark jumps again and shoots his eyes to the opening of the kitchen. Doyoung is still facing away, stirring something in a pot on the stove. 

             Mark doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, or why he does it, but it’s like his hips press forward out of need rather than want. He knows it’s wrong to have you touching him in any way, even if it’s just your foot. 

             You smile wider, watching the way his face tries to stay casual as he gently scoots forward and presses himself further against your foot. Only now, satisfied, do you look back down to your phone as if you didn’t just do what you did, and like you’re not keeping your foot in place for Mark to grind against. 

             The fact that he’s actually doing that alone is enough for you to feel warm on the inside. All you were going to do was experimentally cross a line to see what would happen. This was a much better outcome than him rushing out of the room in a panic. 

             Offering more pressure against his weak grinds, you can tell he’s looking at you in disbelief and shifting his eyes to keep checking for Doyoung. Mostly because he grinds his hips forward a little harder when he notes that Doyoung doesn’t see anything, and when he moves more weakly, you assume your boyfriend must be moving around and able to easily see Mark fall apart. Alerting him that something is happening, even if he can’t see under the table due to the clean cloth he has draped over the table. 

             You smirk as you scroll to watch another video, feeling his cock harden against your foot, and god, he’s really that desperate? You hate how much you like it, and hate even more that you’re so fucking attracted to him doing this right now. 

             When you glance up, you note that Mark is really trying to concentrate on looking normal, but you can see him so clearly shifting his lower half and you speak up. 

 “Mark, have you seen this meme?” You fake laugh out loud, mostly to stop him from getting too into it and blowing the cover. 

             He jerks his hips back with an annoyed groan, realizes where he is and what’s between his legs, and then jumps into an act.

 “N-no, I don’t think so,” He says nervously, leaning forward to see your phone. 

             You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer over the table, lifting him from his seat and whispering. 

 “You need to stop being obvious–” You whisper before releasing him and turning your phone to show him the video.

             Mark lets out a fake laugh at the video  before seating himself and looking dead into your eyes. Then he feels you adjust your foot again, this time further into his chair and seated directly against his painfully hard erection.

             He doesn’t think he can just sit here and let this go on for too long but he doesn’t want you to stop either. It’s the first time you’ve actually come onto him and Doyoung is right fucking there. Mark decides to take what he can get, even if it’s just out of pity from you. 

             You’re shocked when you feel his hand grab your foot and hold it in place before very harshly  grinding against it. Watching him from across the table, he’s somehow manages to make it not look obvious that he’s practically fucking one part of you, still, you find yourself falling apart at the way he parts his lips and bites the bottom one harshly. He’s focused solely on his phone, brows furrowed, but you can tell his eyes are vacant and he’s only focusing on how he’s feeling between his legs. 

             Just as quickly as he started, you feel him push your foot away and he’s scooting back in his chair. 

 “I left something in my room. I’ll be back.” Mark says sheepishly, looking to the floor and rushing into the hallway.

             You watch him rush out of the room confused, so you look behind you hoping Doyoung didn’t like, make eye contact with him or something. It doesn’t appear he did though, because you see him waist-deep bent over in the fridge looking for something. 

             Mark needed to like, not come in his pants from that. He doesn’t fucking like feet, but he likes you. You offered pressure and he fucking took it. He needed to finish himself off and not have to sit there in cum-soiled pants pretending like it didn’t just happen. Naturally, he came to his room to finish himself off out of frustration. Thankfully he’s close enough to reach climax within two to three strokes, right there leaning against his door. 

             Embarrassed by the small sob he let out during his orgasm, he’s quick to rush to the bathroom and clean up before grabbing a hoodie from his room and throwing it on over the t-shirt, mostly so it does look like he came in here to grab something.

             Not even five minutes pass before he’s sitting in front of you again. Mark feels helpless in the way he can no longer bring himself to avoid looking at you, all the way up until Doyoung peeks into the room and announces that he thinks he’s perfected the soup recipe, and is ready for you guys to come try it. 

             You, on the other hand, didn’t look at Mark after he came back. Not much, anyway. It’s not that you didn’t want to, it’s mostly just that you’re coming to terms with the fact that you just crossed a line and you’re not sorry about it. Even after Doyoung places a spoon at your lips and the soup was definitely the most delicious he’s ever made, and even after he’s got his arm around you at the table, across from his little brother who just eye fucked you while grinding against your foot. 

 ~

             The events of yesterday stayed fresh on your mind even as Doyoung lays next to you half-awake and scratching against his arm before cuddling in closer to you. He was so warm, and all you can do is wonder why you're risking this comfort to have fun with his little brother. You’ve already crossed a line and gone too far. You did exactly what you said you weren’t going to do and exactly what you never thought you could do. You’re probably not going to be able to stop even if you wanted to try again, so you opt to just–not think about when it’s gonna happen again or if it’s gonna happen again. 

             Saturday almost flies by and before you know it, all three of you are lounging in the living room to watch a movie. Usually, Mark isn’t as present when you’re with Doyoung but since everything started, he makes himself known much more. He includes himself in things and engages in more conversation. You wonder if it’s because he’s waiting for you to do something again. The worst part about all of it is that you can tell Doyoung is enjoying the time he’s spending with you and Mark together. 

             Even during this movie, Doyoung doesn’t think twice when you lean against him and throw your legs over Mark’s lap to get comfortable. Alternatively, Mark thinks three to four times over when you do it, opting to keep his hands at his sides when he steals a glance at you and notes that you’re comfortable under his brother’s arm. 

             The movie goes on like that and Mark can’t help but feel like it’s taking forever to be over with. Then again, he’s staring at your legs on his lap more than the movie on the screen. It gets worse when there's a jumpscare and your legs are tensing up and moving around against him. At least this time it’s not your fucking foot and he’s got a calf muscle to work with. 

             You did it both intentionally and unintentionally. You weren’t exactly throwing your legs on him to get him to rub against them or anything, it was mostly just to fluster him, but Mark proves himself as someone with zero self-control once again. You feel him twitch under your legs and shamefully, it makes you wet. Like, incredibly wet actually. And in your defense, it’s not like Mark hasn’t seen this happen before, never in an intimate setting like this, but you really can’t help yourself knowing that if you want to get fucked, you’ve got Doyoung right here to do it for you. 

             Adjusting yourself, you pull your legs from Mark and take a second to focus on his lap. The tent in his pants was obvious, but Doyoung pays no mind as his eyes stay on the screen. You watch the way Mark covers himself quickly and looks at you. As he looks at you, you move a bit to look at Doyoung.

             Without warning, your boyfriend is thrown off guard by you suddenly kissing his neck. Mark doesn’t have self-control, and neither do you. You’re not trying to dangle your relationship in front of him, really, you’re not. It’s not your fault that Mark got hard and that caused a chain reaction in getting you wet. 

             Doyoung pulls back to look at you in confusion, smiling but also trying to dodge your kisses against his neck. 

 “Hey, hey slow down–” He turns his face to whisper into your hair. “It’s weird with Mark here.”

             You ignore his whispers and continue to kiss against him, moving your hand dangerously close to his upper thigh. 

             In a way, Doyoung can’t believe that you’re really acting like this in front of Mark. Sure, the two of you have kissed in front of him, and Mark has walked in on some steamy makeout sessions, but it was never intended to be in front of him. Then again, Doyoung knows how needy you can get and how selfish you can be when you’re wanting something specific from him. 

 “Okay, okay–” Doyoung whispers out again, gently pulling himself from the couch and grabbing your hand. 

 “Hey Mark, I think she’s getting tired.” Doyoung laughs with the obvious lie. “Can we finish the movie another time?” 

 “Uh, sure.” Mark responds, knowing full fucking well that you’re turned on because of him. The movie hadn’t played even one sexy scene to get you all riled up. 

 ~

             Come Sunday morning, you were just as turned on as you were the night before. You can feel your body heating the moment you even think of Mark, but Doyoung satiates you well enough. Even there against the bathroom wall as the two of you take a shower. 

             Doyoung took note the night before that you enjoyed it when he humiliated you for doing those things in front of Mark. Asking you if you were really so desperate that you’d let just anyone see you acting the way you did. He plays off of that today too. 

             Waking up hard wasn’t anything weird for Doyoung, and usually the morning showers end up as morning sex sessions anyway. You seemed more willing and awake this morning than any other time, and he’s thankful for it. 

             When he’s got you pressed against the wall as the warm water runs down your back, he doesn’t hesitate to plunge into you all the way with a comment of how much wetter you get when he degrades you. In a way, the punishment and degradation feels deserved, because you are embarrassed by how much you want to touch Mark.

 “You love when other people can see how much you want me, don’t you?” 

             You nod against the cold bathroom tiles, feeling his cock pressing deeply inside of you and making your legs feel weak. You do love when other people can see, but what you mean by that is you love when his little brother can see. 

             Mark, from across the hall, once again hears it all because it wakes him up. Doyoung hadn’t even attempted to keep his voice down while talking to you. 

 “Going so far as letting Mark see? How desperate were you?” 

             Mark’s ears perk up at the sound of his brother saying that, already stirring in his pants at the very idea of you getting off to that. How desperate were you? He wonders how you answer, or if you do. He wonders if you were desperate for him or if it was really for Doyoung.

             Without much more thought, Mark can’t go another day with you here right now. It’s becoming a bit too much, a bit too real, and honestly, he thinks he’s the desperate one right now. Wanting to barge into the bathroom, shove his brother away, and have his way with you. He could never. You’d never let him go that far surely. 

             And by the time it’s all said and done, you leave the bathroom lightheaded and Mark appears to have left the house to do something else.

 ~

             The week passes normally up until Thursday night. You’re rummaging through your cabinets for something to make for dinner when your phone goes off. Assuming it’s Doyoung again, complaining that Friday never comes fast enough, it’s Mark sending you something through instagram, and he’s drunk. 

             MarkLee99_ sent a photo: 

 MarkLee99_ : guess who got drunk on a thursday night and is regretting the fact that i wanna talk to you? 

             Never did you want a paper trail or some type of proof that you and Mark are involved in this weird….thing together. His message isn’t even sexual, it's just a bit intimate that your boyfriend’s brother is sending you selfies while drunk even though you came onto him first. He’s attractive, and entirely too cute right now trying to approach you via fucking Instagram because he won’t do it to your face. Then again, Doyoung is always around. 

 You: let me guess, you’re the one drunk on a thursday night and will probably say some shit that will make you not be able to look me in the eye tomorrow?

 MarkLee99_ : ding ding ding! what’re you doing? 

You: texting you and trying to find food, im hungry. what about you?

MarkLee99_ : bout to make another drink and pretend i don’t have your panties under my pillow

MarkLee99_ : …because i do

             Wow, Mark is bold and confident when he’s drunk. You find yourself smiling over it. You’d never guess or even assume he would try to make conversation with you about that of all things.

 You: oh yeah, you’re definitely drunk

MarkLee99_ : am i being too weird? 

MarkLee99_ : because you’re the one who started it

You: me? I started it? You stole my underwear! 

MarkLee99_ : you’re the one who let me keep them

You: that’s……fair….

MarkLee99_ : so… :) 

             Shy boy is no more at this moment and you almost feel caught off guard. Reminding yourself that he’s drunk, you try to set a boundary in your head and change the subject.

 You: what are you drinking?

MarkLee99_ : found some of my brother’s expensive whiskey, gonna tell him you drank it, he wont be mad then

You: you’re gonna tell him that I drank his whiskey, when he knows I don’t even like whiskey?

MarkLee99_ : yep

             You laugh at his stupidity, finally finding a snack for yourself and settling on the couch with your phone in hand. 

 You: and you’re drinking on a weeknight again, why?

MarkLee99_ : because i want you 

             Oh.

 MarkLee99_ : and i know im not allowed to, but it’s really hard to like, not, i guess

MarkLee99_ : i know im being weird and im sorry, just really drunk rn and wanna talk to you thats all

MarkLee99_ : or we can pretend i never message you and you can delete the messages

You: no, i think you’re being cute. You can calm down, it’s okay

             It’s definitely not okay, but you want it to be. You’re about to do some not okay things too, and cross those boundaries you literally just now set.

 You: so, they’re still under your pillow? 

MarkLee99_ : yea

You: when was the last time you didn’t have them under there?

MarkLee99_ : yesterday

You: oh yeah? 

MarkLee99_ : yea i washed them when doyoung was at work…um

MarkLee99_ : can you maybe wear them again

             God, he really is that desperate. 

 MarkLee99_ : please? you can leave them in the laundry like last time and ill just grab them

You: i’ll think about it 

MarkLee99_ : okay…so…uh….did you like the selfie 

You: i like seeing you in person more, it’s fun when you’re all flustered and stuff, trying to pretend you don’t like it

             Mark is giggling to himself like a schoolgirl, focusing on your messages and hoping to god he doesn’t forget the things you’re saying to him. He’s going to have to delete these messages as soon as it’s over though, for sure. At least he’s not drunk enough to forget the glaring issue at hand here.

 MarkLee99_ : i don’t like it because i always have a boner now lol i feel gross always having to go to my room and take care of it so things dont get weird

You: maybe ill take care of it for you someday, who knows?

MarkLee99_ : wait what

             You’re cheating. As if you haven’t been already. This is blatantly against your moral code and you literally do not care. 

 You: are you all flustered now?

MarkLee99_ : maybe,,,,

You: would you want me to? instead of you having to always run off to your room where I can’t see? 

MarkLee99_ : you’re doing this on purpose, you wouldn’t actually wanna

MarkLee99_ : would you?

You: guess you’ll just have to find out eventually

You: flustered now?

MarkLee99_ : yea, wanna see?

MarkLee99_  sent a photo: 

You:  jesus christ

You: you’re like, really big. I mean, I knew from feeling it last weekend but like, that was my foot lol

MarkLee99_ : yeah what even was that about? i felt so stupid doing that

You: you looked hot when you did it tho

MarkLee99_ : am i really that big? 

You: mark, look at it. im shocked you don’t already have a girl to bury it into yet

MarkLee99_ : could have one ;) 

You: ….yeah

MarkLee99_ : yeah? 

MarkLee99_  sent a photo: 

             Okay, it’s getting to be too much now. You can feel the warmth pooling into your panties already and you wonder if he would be just as eager to lick it up as he is to text you right now. You spread your legs wide, deciding on if you should do it. You’re already cheating, the guilt couldn’t get any worse anyway. 

 You sent a photo: 

 MarkLee99_ : oh fuck 

MarkLee99_ : you’re wet?

MarkLee99_ : sorry i wasnt expecting that

MarkLee99_ : can i save it

You:  :) 

 You sent a photo: 

 MarkLee99_ : you should give me those panties instead

You: okay, ill put them in the basket tomorrow night 

MarkLee99_ : will you still wear the other ones too?

You: you want //two// pairs?

MarkLee99_ : yeah :( 

You:  if it’ll make you keep being cute like this 

             Mark is blushing, flushing, and shaking all at once, one hand on his length  and the other texting you. He’s saved the photos anyway, boring holes into them with the thought of what must be behind that thin layer of sticky and wet fabric. He wants to put his face there, he wants to smell you and swallow you up. 

 MarkLee99_ : can i call you?

             A sharp feeling of fear but an even bigger feeling of arousal hits you. 

 You: I’m waiting. 

             You didn’t have to wait long, watching the bubble of him typing something to you disappear and instead getting a phone call. You know Mark had your number, and you had his, mostly for communication purposes for Doyoung. Never was this supposed to happen. 

             When you answer the phone after taking a deep breath, your eyes are nearly popping out of your head. Mark is shameless. All those nights of hearing him muffled through the wall now coming through crisp and clear on the speaker. If you close your eyes, it’s like you’re in his room with him. 

             You don’t speak, and instead listen. You had expected him to answer the phone stuttering, trying to dirty talk but ultimately failing. It appears his drunken state offers him more than just liquid courage, but liquid lust as well. For a moment you stop and contemplate hanging up. Mark is drunk and you can’t help but feel as though you’re taking advantage of him. Then again, previously sober he basically fucked himself against your foot at the dinner table. 

 “Feel good?” You ask with a chuckle. You can hear the movement of his body through the speaker and you’re aware that through the lack of slapping sounds that your panties are probably silencing what his hand is doing. 

             Mark barely answers. A quick “mhm” ringing through your ears with his deep breaths. This isn’t typically how phone sex would go, considering dirty talking is what gets a person there. Maybe Mark has never done this before, then again, maybe he gets off on knowing you’re listening to him while also alone. 

 “Can you–talk?” Mark asks weakly,  his hand stilling for a moment to focus solely on the image he has pulled up over your phone call. He can barely comprehend that you’re on the other line and he’s looking at your pussy pressing against slick panties.

 “I like hearing you do this,” You say quickly, not very good at this type of thing yourself despite knowing how it should usually go. You slowly start to trace your fingers against your panties, wondering if Mark would be gentle like this too, nervous even. 

 “Yeah?” He asks with a small, choked moan as he begins to move his hand again. “You’re not weirded out?”

 “If I was weirded out I wouldn’t have sent you photos.” You snap, frustrated suddenly with the whole situation that this is your boyfriend’s brother. “Stop calling it weird–” You trail off, listening intently to the shifting sounds you hear through the speaker. 

 “Doyoung isn’t home right now,” Mark suddenly admits, and you can feel the arousal disappear almost instantly as you hear his name. The reality hitting you, but still not caring enough to stop.

 “Don’t talk about him right now, This isn’t right but–”

 “But what?” Mark asks, this time pulling his hand away completely and wondering if you realized you fucked up. Hoping you won’t tell Doyoung, hoping this never gets found out. 

 “I can’t stop thinking about you.” You let out, finally pressing your fingers beneath the lining of your panties. “I know it’s wrong.”

             Like music to Mark’s ears, he feels the eagerness in his body swell to the point that it’s difficult to maintain. Doyoung has everything that Mark wants. A good career, a nice house, needed life skills. All of those things could be obtained with hard work and effort for Mark, but you. You were the one thing he was never supposed to have. You were the one aspect of Doyoung’s life that Mark wouldn’t have the ability to work his way towards, but he did. He has you right now, in this moment, and he feels like nothing could break him. He knows it’s wrong just like you do, but Mark is selfish too. 

             He doesn’t think you meant to feel this way, because he always sees the good in people, and if you were doing this with any other man he would definitely snitch on you if he found out. But you’re doing it with him and he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt at this moment that he wants to fuck his big brother’s girlfriend, and it appears she wants to fuck him too. 

             A small part of Mark’s brain is anxious though. That little still-sober sliver of his moral code trying to fight its way to the front. Does he go with his heart or with his brain? Should he stop? Will he be able to look you in the eye tomorrow? Will he be able to ever look his brother in the eye? He isn’t sure. Both his heart and his brain tells him to go for you, the only thing telling him not to is the thought of his brother. The good news about that is, with you on the other end of this line, Doyoung doesn’t exist to him any longer as he goes to speak.

 “You can have me, you know.” He almost whispers, staring down at his heavy cock resting against his belly, panties left dangling off the tip. “I wouldn’t say no.”

             Those were dangerous words. Words you know you shouldn’t accept or be turned on by. 

 “I bet you wouldn’t–” You cut yourself off in a deep breath, pressing against your clit and rubbing harshly. Mark isn’t even talking much, just offering himself on a fucking platter to you.

 “Oh, shit, are you?” Mark swallows hard, the reality that you might actually be touching yourself on the other line sending waves of heat down his body in waves. He thought it was just him and only had the hopes that you wouldn’t start making fun of him for it. 

 “Oh shit, oh fuck.” He says, quickly moving his hand to grip against his cock and already feeling too sensitive from the short moments of neglect. “Where are your hands?” He adds.

 “In my panties.”

             Mark groans, dropping his phone by his ear on the pillow and using his other hand to grip something, anything as he opts to imagine your fingers sliding beneath the panties you’d shown him in the photo.

             You can tell he’s holding his breath, focusing on feeling good in the way he releases short, quick groans every now and then. You keep yourself silent though, trying to hear him, trying to imagine what he’s doing while thinking of you. 

             The wetness between your legs is being spread by your fingers as you scissor your lips open easily, letting a small groan roll off your tongue for him to hear. Satisfied by his responsive deep breath and sigh, you finally plunge your fingers in. 

 “Can you hear it, Mark?” You ask, lowering the phone a bit so that he can hear your fingers slide in and out of you with a wet sound. 

             He chokes on his end at that, swiping the panties off of him to replace the feeling of fabric with the feeling of his closed fist. His precum smears beautifully, offering him the sensation that if he squeezes hard enough, he can imagine that he’s fucking into your warm and wet pussy. He can hear how wet you sound and it’s driving him up a fucking wall not being able to physically see you do it in front of him. 

 “This is all I'm going to think about tomorrow–” He groans out, tightening his fist even more and bucking his hips into it. “You sound so,”

 “Wet for you?”

             That’s all it takes before Mark is gasping out a string of curses, the orgasm both sending him into a sobering world of pleasure and an even drunker state of wanting you to himself. Strings of white spurting all along his belly and going as far as his chin, he throws his other hand up and bites hard against the skin on his knuckle as he works through it. He doesn’t want to moan, he wants to hear how fast your fingers are moving. He wants to think about how you must be imagining him right now, feeling good and breaking the rules for him. 

             Finally, after an embarrassingly long orgasm from Mark, his room goes silent and his ears tune in to the speaker on his phone. You’re cooing, letting out pretty little breaths between the smacking sounds of your palms coming into contact with your clit as you work yourself through it. He can’t believe you’re doing this with him, and even after his own orgasm he’s still incredibly aroused despite his cock softening. 

 “You still there?” You groan out. He can tell the phone is closer to what your hands are doing than it is to your face, but he doesn’t mind.

 “I’m still here–” He swallows hard, catching his breath as he practically studies the audio you’re feeding to him. 

 “I bet that felt good,” You compliment his orgasm that was glaringly obvious on your end. You imagine he doesn’t even recognize that his hand was audible against his cock, and the sheer speed you heard of what he was doing made your clenching walls ache with everything you shouldn’t be wanting.”Wish I could see you right now–” 

             Mark did contemplate face timing you instead, but that was crossing more of a line in his head than just calling you. Plus, he would have probably hidden himself from view the entire time. It’s not like he expected to actually have you fucking yourself on the other end of the line, but here you are, and here he is, cum all over him. 

             He snaps a quick photo for you, and in your head you whimper a small yes, because you can hear the shutter from his phone.

 “Send it,” You demand softly, pulling your phone from your stomach and holding it in front of your face. 

             He does as you ask and feels embarrassed by the pools of cum all over his stomach. The photo consists mostly of his chest down. You can see his plush and bitten lips at the top of the photo though, and his quite big softening cock lying spent against his stomach, smearing some of the cum across his belly. 

             Mark listens to your reaction and hum of approval when you look at the photo, a small blush fanning his cheeks out of pure adoration for you rather than lust at this moment. He listens intently, unsure of if you’re going to work yourself to orgasm or hang up on him before he gets the chance to hear it. 

             The point is, Mark is getting a part of you that only Doyoung should have, and he will be damned to pretend he doesn’t like it. 

 ~

             Waking up with an immense amount of guilt in your head, you almost bail at going to Doyoung’s house this weekend. You’ve already called out of work simply because you find yourself thinking of Mark more than you should, and the guilt only wavers from you feeling like a piece of shit, to almost being a thought that you can push aside. 

             Doyoung would kill Mark if he found out, and you, what would he even do with you? Break up with you? Insult you? The thought of him finding out is the only reason you feel guilty. Because you still don’t regret showing Mark, letting him hear you, or hearing and seeing him. In fact, you don’t intend to stop either. You want him too much at this point, and he seems to be in the same place as you when it comes to this situation. Mark wouldn’t tell on you because then he would be telling on himself. 

             After all, he only moved in with Doyoung so he could taste freedom outside of his parent’s house. The strict curfews, the password protected websites despite him being a fucking adult, the supervision of his own money and belongings. Doyoung knew the pain of living there, and that’s why he accepted Mark with open arms. 

             Doyoung was a good brother and an even better boyfriend. You and Mark on the other hand. Mark’s an awful brother and you’re an even worse girlfriend. He didn’t deserve any of this, and he doesn’t deserve any of what’s to come either. You’re in too deep with Mark now, and the glaring attraction is too strong to ignore. 

             Never in your life did you think you could find yourself being unfaithful, let alone with your own boyfriend’s sibling, yet here you are. Only guilty if you get caught. 

             Mark had texted you at least three thousand times with apologies. Admitting that his head hurt too much this morning to be realizing what the two of you did. He said he wouldn’t approach you when you come over, apologized again, and then promised to never tell Doyoung and to never hold it against you if you think he’s weird for doing all of that to you.

             Reading over his string of messages, you realize that Mark is blaming himself. He feels like he’s taking advantage of you and wanting you to feel secure and safe in something you did without a second thought. 

             On his end though, Mark is in his room staring at the two photos you sent to him the night before. Partially wondering if it was all just a dream at first, those pictures of you were the truth of how you felt towards him. And when you never text him back he doesn’t think too hard about why.

             When you still show up at that day, he doesn’t question that you’re not eye fucking him the second you walk in through the door either. 

             Mark was once again lounging on the couch when you walked in and Doyoung was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t texted you either. Awkwardly, Mark speaks up before you can question it.

 “He told me to let you know that he was gonna be late again. Said something about knowing you’d spam him with needy text messages while he’s in a last-minute work meeting.”

             You look to the floor for a second, wondering if the real reason Doyoung didn’t text you personally like he always did is because he found out somehow. 

“Oh,” You sigh, slipping off your shoes and feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. 

 “He doesn’t know, don’t worry–” Mark assures you as he stands to his feet and heads towards his room. “Sorry about last night, I won't do that again.”

 ~

             You’ve been slouched against Doyoung’s couch for at least an hour by now and your mind is still doing a back and forth between taking advantage of this alone time with Mark, or worrying about how you shouldn’t be left alone with him at all.

             The glaringly obvious issue in your head right now is the fact that you’re alone with Mark and you’re not upset about it. Mark assured you that Doyoung didn’t find out, and the fact that Mark is the best source of finding out exactly what Doyoung knows is more of a comfort than anything to you right now. 

             Thinking back to the night before, you remember releasing your orgasm on the phone and hearing him compliment you through it. You have the photo of him saved within your gallery, hidden from your too-trusting boyfriend’s eyes. It was the first time you’ve ever seen Mark’s lower half bare. He really was huge. 

             It’s not even shocking to you at this point that you can feel guilty and anxious one moment and immediately switch into some sex-starved beast at the very thought of Mark. 

 “maybe ill take care of it for you someday, who knows?” The text message you sent to him spreads across your thoughts, knowing full well that you’re probably going to get intimate with Doyoung later, the least you can do is let Mark have some first if he wants it, right? 

 You cautiously stand to your feet with a deep breath. The fact that you allow yourself to continuously dig the hole deeper for you to never be able to pull yourself out from inside. Maybe it's just what Mark does to your thoughts? The images of him are too good to be able to ignore, the guilt not nearly enough to make you stop wanting him. 

 Doyoung isn’t in your mind when you reach into your bag and grab the soiled panties you had soaked completely the night before, and Doyoung barely exists at all in your thoughts when you make your way down the hall and lean against Mark’s closed door. 

 “I wouldn’t say no.” was what Mark had messaged you before, guess now is the time to find out. 

 Opening his door without so much as a knock, Mark doesn't appear to notice you at all as his back stays turned and he focuses on the screen in front of him. The large headset is sitting comfortably on his ears and you’re sure that the volume is up far too loud to be healthy. You can hear his friend’s yelling directions, where enemies are hiding and where they’re headed next. 

 You smirk for a moment, noting how much of a typical college boy Mark is. Messy room, messy hair, messy relationship with his brother’s girlfriend. You can imagine he feels pride in what he was able to do with you, and that’s not even an ego boost on your end. You wonder if he’s told his friends anything at all. Not about who he likes or who he’s been getting intimate with even if not too-directly, but like, that he’s been getting fed sexual fantasies by someone in general. You wonder if he talks you up, then again, what if he hasn’t mentioned it at all.

 “Where were you last night anyway?” You hear over the too-loud headset as you come up behind Mark with the panties in your hand. 

 “Busy getting laid, unlike you losers.” Mark boasts, but you snicker at how he’s both lying and telling the truth.

 “Bullshit–” You hear another insult coming through his headset before you finally are right behind him. 

             Part of you wants to prove him right so his friend’s think he’s cool or something, but then again, what if they recognize your voice? Surely these are his friends from back home, some two to three hours from this city. Surely they don’t know you, right?

 “No, really.” You lean down against Mark’s headset and speak in a tone that isn’t too common for you,  and he freezes. 

 “No fucking way,” A deeper voice sounds through his headset and you can’t help but feel happy for him in the way they, for some reason, can’t believe Mark’s got some girl in this city interested in him. 

             When Mark tries to turn his body to look at you, you hold the chair in place. Knowing yourself how headsets work, you lift his mic until it clicks, hoping to god the mute function works like it’s supposed to and start talking.

 “Don’t move, keep playing if you want.” You say, dangling the panties over his head and lowering them in front of his face.

             More arousing than gross, you watch Mark’s face fall forward against them. Part of him can’t believe you’re really doing this right now despite leaving his messages on read. But you are, and these are the panties that he thought about all last night and most of today. He really meant it when he said that would be the only thing he would be thinking about, and here you are, keeping the promise of giving them to him.

             Reaching up and clutching the panties, Mark tries to turn towards you again. 

“Stay,” You say. “And don’t be loud.” You lower his mic into place where he is no longer muted and listen as his friends go from talking shit to starting up another game. 

             From behind his chair, you’re a little shocked at how good he is at following what you say. He doesn’t move, but you can hear his breathing and the way he struggles to balance it in order to remain some-what normal sounding to his friends when they address him. His fingers are shaking against his keyboard as the game starts, and you think he’s probably thought about this happening to him hundreds of times before. 

             Gamer boys always want this kind of thing. Some girl prodding and tugging at them, sucking them off under the table as they boast to their friends how they can be getting head and still getting gold damage by the time the match is over. 

             All you can think about right now is being the person to fulfill his fantasies. More turned on by the idea that Mark must want it so badly from you. When you reach around him, lying your hand against his lap, he’s already incredibly hard and stares down at it as the countdown screen on his game begins. 

             From out of sight, you don’t want Mark to see you. You want to see how badly he does through this, because it’s not only cute but actually fucking hilarious. It’s the first time you’re moving on him rather than him grinding against whatever you have to offer.

             Ignoring the call outs of enemies in game through his head set, both of you spiral into a world of your own again when you grab his length from over his sweatpants and just–you just hold him for a moment. The weight of it grows much heavier as he somehow manages to get insanely hard at the fact that you’re in the room with him and your incredibly used panties are sitting right there too.

 “Jesus–” Mark groans when you grab him, but his friends seem to pay no mind to it. Gamer talk and all. 

 “Jesus is right, you haven’t moved from that fucking building you cuck-” Some guy shouts from his head set.

 “Shut the fuck up Haechan, you’re literally in bronze,” Another man shouts.

             Mark is silent save for a sharp inhale when you squeeze your palm around him. He knows if he even tries to talk shit right now that all of his friends would just fucking know how desperate and embarrassing he is around you. That’s the last thing he needs.

             Finally, after a few moments of palming him through his pants, you dip right in. He doesn’t shy away from it either, spreading his legs from under his desk and lifting his ass up slightly so you can pull the pants down to release his length. 

             Even bigger than the photos, thicker than you genuinely imagined now that you see it from over his shoulder. Mark tries to turn his head this time to look at you, but you’re quick to catch his cheek and turn it back to the screen. 

             Gripping him again, Mark sighs into his mic and his friend’s screaming goes silent. You’re quick to lift his mic into the muted position just to offer some sort of escape from embarrassment now seeing that he’s incredibly willing to let you do this while his ego is on the line.

 “You want them to hear?” You ask, feeling his hips slightly buck into your grip. That sends shivers down your spine, finally feeling it for the first time.

 “I don’t care–” He sighs again, thrusting his hips up harder. “Just touch me,”

             The way he says it, for some reason, sounds so fucking broken that you could honestly swirl this chair around and impale yourself on him without so much as a second thought. But you contain yourself, now moving your grip up his length and thumbing over the head to feel the little beads of pre-cum. 

 “Alright, sweetheart,” You compliment, lowering his mic for the last time and wondering just how much he’s going to let his shithead friends hear.

             For a few moments, you gently jerk him off just to see his hips chase your fist. He’s needy in the way he moves his body but very fucking good at acting as you start to count each kill he manages to get through this. 

             By the time you hear his friends praise him, you feel a little competitive yourself. Shy, needy, desperate little Mark thinks he can get through a game the very first time you actually touch him? Perhaps he thinks he is giving you what you want, but what you want is to see him fall apart. 

             You move your hand faster, watching him from behind as he chokes up and slams his head against the headrest of his chair, nearly knocking the headphones off of him. 

 “Fuck,” Mark moans, knowing full well that his friends wouldn’t suspect anything if he says such a thing. 

             You know that was for you though, so you continue. The rhythm of your hand moving from a slow drag to something painfully fast and unfathomably good. Mark’s head is spinning, thrusting his hips up and gripping his computer mouse so tightly that he thinks he could crush it in his grip. 

             When his pre-cum is offering more lubricant for an easy slide up and down, your pace remains fast and you can squeeze harder. 

             Mark can’t hold himself back anymore, slamming his head against the headrest of his seat yet again, this time his headset sliding off of his head and falling into the floor. He lols his head from side to side as he finally lets out a moan, shooting a hand to your wrist and holding it in place so that he can fuck up into it. 

             You gasp at that, his grip harsh and far less gentle than you’d expect. The muffled screams of his friends are blatantly obvious and you can’t bring yourself to care if the mic muted itself during its descent to the floor or not. 

             He’s choking back little groans, releasing your wrist and staring down, then grabbing it again before fucking up harder. You can tell he has no idea what to do, what he should do, or what he’s going to do and it’s so fucking endearing. 

             He tries to turn to see you again, but you do your best to remain behind him as you grab the base of his cock and cause him to groan in pain.

 “Let me see you,” He nearly sobs in a frustrated way, and for a moment you contemplate letting him. 

 “Let me hear you.” You respond, keeping that same, painfully tight, grip against him and dragging it up to his head, enveloping it and sending sensitive shocks throughout his body. 

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Mark wiggles under the painful grasp, but his hips still chase when you drag your hand back down. He’s no longer being quiet, no longer pretending to care about his dead character on the screen, re-spawning and dying every few seconds. He’s a free kill for any enemy player right now and you can tell his friend’s are pissed in the way the screaming from the headset gets louder despite the distance. The chat box on screen is being spammed just as aggressively, and Mark can barely even open his eyes to process it. 

 “You were playing so well,” You coo out, shifting forward a bit and placing your chin on his shoulder. “What happened, Markie?” 

             He softly moans at the nickname, eyes half open as he glances down at how fast your hand is moving compared to your soft, balanced voice against his ear. He turns his head quickly, trying to catch you off guard, but you pull away.

 “So needy to see me,” You chuckle, working him up and knowing that he’s got to be close with the way she shamelessly moans in the most annoyed, frustrated way. 

 “Let me kiss you.” He grunts, bucking his hips aggressively, now chasing in full that painful grip you’re keeping against him so well. “I’ll keep my eyes closed, please,”

             You contemplate again giving him what he wants, but you figure he’s already getting more than enough. 

 “Oh? You’ll keep your eyes closed? Don’t you want to look at me?” 

             Mark is desperate now, hands moving to the armrests of his chair as he grips them hard, hips wildly stuttering in your grasp. 

 “Fuck, yes.” He lets out, dropping his head with a deep breath and then throwing his head back with an even longer moan. 

             You can’t tell if that was him answering you, or simply reacting to what his body is feeling, and you don’t really care. He’s already there, walking on the thin line of orgasm and willing to take whatever it is you give him. He no longer wants anything, he’s just experiencing. 

             You watch him from behind very closely, the shiver running from his toes straight to his ears was obvious enough.

 “That’s it,” You whisper from behind. “I know you want to.”

             Mark’s entire body tenses against the chair, you can feel it stress from the way his legs spread wider and his hips go from quick thrusts to short, drawn out drags against your palm. The image of him doing that between your legs washes over every single one of your thoughts. He would do that, burying himself so deeply as he spills out inside of you, thrusting in and slowly dragging his hips out, just to thrust in again to push his seed impossibly deeper.

 “That’s so hot,” Mark comments with a deep breath, and only then do you realize the small moan you’d let out during that intense thought of him. His come is spilling out in loads and all you can do is watch him get through it. 

             Finally, after making a mess of him, you smile to yourself. A job well done. 

             You opt to make a grand exit, saying nothing after releasing his cock and sauntering out of the room in silence to leave him to his thoughts. You could still hear his friends screaming through the microphone, and he doesn’t even call out after you. Mark must feel on top of the world right now, because you know that you do.

 ~

             Doyoung came home later than last time, tired and droopy. He found himself drawn to you more than usual, noting that your eyes were sparkling a little brighter upon walking through his door. 

             You put Mark in the back of your head much like you always tried to do when Doyoung was around you these days. Your love for your boyfriend is still blatant and honest when you’re next to him, not at all feeling pity for Mark having to see it. Mark should know who it is you love, despite the fact that you jerked him off a mere few hours ago.

             When Doyoung is next to you, when his arm is around you and his eyes are on you, you don’t question for a second that everything you’ve been doing behind his back will come back on you, and it’ll be well deserved pain. But there’s still a part of you that hopes you can keep Doyoung forever and always be happy beside him. You’re actively betraying him, his own flesh and blood is helping you dig this hole deeper and deeper. So deep that Doyoung can’t even see the bottom where Mark’s got his hands on you. 

             Fully intending to keep them both, you find yourself feeling more fulfilled despite the awful moral. Doyoung isn’t willing to share, but Mark is. And you, you don’t have to share.

 ~

             Saturday was as normal as always. Mark pops in and out of his room, not even once acting as if something suspicious is going on. If anything, Doyoung is a little more happy to see you spend time with Mark when he’s not in his room. It was awkward at first. Mark’s always been shy but it seems like he’s loosened up after realizing you’re a permanent part of the picture for as long as you’re with Doyoung. He’s endeared by the way you bully his brother the same way he does. 

             Even that little crush Mark had on you when he first met you appears to have fallen into more of a sibling-like relationship to Doyoung. He thought it was cute that Mark had a crush, after all, it’s you. Doyoung fucking fell head over heels when you gave him attention and wouldn’t be caught dead releasing his grip on you once he asked you to be his girlfriend. The point is, Doyoung knew Mark had a small crush but was pleased to see it turn into something more casual and comfortable. He likes his life, loves his girlfriend, and loves his brother. Nothing could get better than spending time with the two of you, even if Mark jumps up to go be a recluse in his room from time to time.

 ~

 “Mark,” Haechan grits through the mic. 

 “What?” Mark responds, throwing his arms behind his head as he smiles to himself through the webcam.

 “You should be embarrassed.” Haechan argues. “We didn’t wanna hear that shit.”

 “I muted him.” Jeno says with a shrug through his webcam. 

 “Yeah, me too.” Jaemin follows up, all eyes now falling to Haechan with a red face.

 “I was in a tight situation! I couldn’t tab out!” Haechan defends himself easily, still a darker shade than usual.

 “I think she wanted you guys to hear,” Mark laughs quietly, whispering. 

 “Why are you whispering?” Jeno asks, leaning forward towards his camera as if Mark was about to whisper out again, this time with a deeper secret. 

             Instead, Mark shifts his eyes and changes the subject. As much as he would love to tell his friends that he’s managed to get a handjob (not the foot thing) from his brother’s girlfriend, he’s sure they’d have a little more respect for him. But it feels like a betrayal to say it out loud, regardless of how hot the idea is in his head.

 “Because my brother is with his girlfriend and it’s weird if they know what happens when they’re not here.” Mark deadpans out to his friends, who nod their heads in agreement. 

 “She left her panties,” Mark goes to say, removing his hands from behind his head and sitting up from his relaxed position. “Wanna see?”

             Haechan was, obviously, the first to nod his head and Mark didn’t really need the others to agree anyway, because they’re a group of college guys who are always either talking about getting laid or how to raise their rank when playing competitive games.

 “Damn,” Jeno laughs as he sees the thin fabric come into view. “Are they dirty?” 

 “Oh yeah,” Mark boasts, spreading out the fabric and bringing them close to the camera. 

 “Y’all are gross.” Haechan waves them off, averting his eyes and trying to pretend he’s not interested.

 “Mark’s full of shit, he probably bought those and was being weird with them. That’s definitely his load we’re looking at, guys.” Jeno cuts in. 

 “You heard her talk to him through the mic, there’s no way he’s lying.” Haechan, for some reason, argues for Mark.

 “Uh, no I didn’t. I had him muted the second I saw his hero standing in the middle of the map without moving.” Jeno argues back.

“I lied, I didn’t mute him.” Jaemin finally admits. 

             Mark can’t stop smiling. The fact that he can barely believe what happened himself is enough not to argue. They’re your panties, that’s your scent in them, and that was your hand wrapped around him yesterday. 

 ~

             Waking up on Sunday felt, again, normal. You hadn’t heard Mark through the walls the night before but Doyoung sure did. He mostly drowned out the sounds by putting in his headphones though, unlike what you would have done. Doyoung did, however, wake up hard considering the two of you passed out the night before without so much as a lingering hand.

             To his dismay, you groan at his roaming hands as he wakes you up. Doyoung knew you loved being woken up this way, but he knew to stop if you made a sound like that.

 “What’s wrong?” He says, pulling his hand back and instead, placing it in your waist so that way he can pull you closer.

             You don’t respond, cracking an eye open and immediately feeling your head pound at the sunlight shining through the windows. You feel bad that since thursday, the only intimacy you’ve had has been with Mark despite being in love with the man against you. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that you immediately, physically, feel like shit this morning, you’d be jumping Doyoung’s bones. 

 “Head is pounding.” 

 “Ah,” Doyoung smiles, hugging you against him and rubbing circles against your skin with his thumb. “It’s okay, you can sleep in. I’m gonna go make some breakfast.”

             Your boyfriend’s good mood doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does your headache. You take him up on that offer and immediately fall back to sleep.

             Later, you wake to Doyoung gently patting your cheek. 

 “You want some food? Might help?” 

             You nod, squinting your eyes and sitting up a little too quickly. You glance around as he turns away and heads back towards the kitchen, and then you stretch your arms out. Things feel too fucking normal for you to be doing what you’ve been doing. This headache is well fucking deserved, surely. 

             Making your way into the kitchen, you note that Mark’s bedroom door was open and he wasn’t in there. He also wasn’t in the kitchen or living room. 

“Where’s Mark?” You ask casually, sitting down at the table and rubbing your temples.

 “Said something about one of his friends coming to a city nearby and wanting to go hang out with him. Probably Haechan.” 

             Your heart starts beating in your ears at the thought that you really thought Doyoung wouldn’t know any of Mark’s friends? Sure, you thought that maybe they were just online friends, or maybe people Mark met after Doyoung moved out of his parent’s house, but you recognize that fucking name. Thankfully, you had changed your voice just slightly as you spoke to Mark the other day. Surely this isn’t what would ruin the entire arrangement.

 “Ah,” You groan. “Finally we have the house to ourselves and I have to wake up with a migraine?” 

 “It’s okay, really.” Doyoung smiles, sitting a plate of food down in front of you. “Besides, we both know you like the thrill of needing to be quiet.” 

             He’s joking, you know he is, but it was the truth before this whole thing with Mark started. 

 “If we really wanted to be alone, I'd be at your apartment every weekend.”Your boyfriend adds, planting a kiss to the top of your head and heading towards the medicine cabinet. “Little weird that it has to be my brother that we are keeping quiet from, but whatever.”

 “Didn’t know i’d be this into it, honestly.” You admit, feeling open enough to at least tell him that you’re very into the idea of someone hearing you. You just won't admit that you want it to be Mark.

 “I mean, I personally am not into this type of thing. It’s a little uncomfortable for me.” Doyoung sits down and hands you two painkillers. “But I doubt he’s actually listening. I apologized after the first time and he said he usually just puts in headphones and goes to sleep.”

             You hold back the smile of Mark’s blatant lies towards Doyoung. 

 “So I guess I don’t entirely mind feeding into your little fantasies of being heard, or caught, or whatever.”

             Your boyfriend waves off the conversation with a smile, ultimately willing the fact that it is weird to him out of his head. If that was a new thing you realized you liked, the only way you would have found out is by having someone else in the house when the two of you do those things. Unfortunately, it was Mark. In Doyoung’s head, he was mature enough to discuss it like an adult with his brother. Guidelines and rules, moving Mark in wasn’t going to change his sex life with you, if anything, he had already told Mark to invest in some decent headphones or earplugs because he’s gonna hear some shit. 

             You allow the conversation to die as you work up an appetite. Thankfully Doyoung was an amazing cook, though he only did it one or two nights a week considering how spent his job makes him feel. You’re thankful he cooked this morning, and even more thankful for these two little pills that will hopefully knock your headache out within the hour.

 ~

             Come Monday, you’re thankful you get to work from home. You sleep in and try your best not to think about the fact that Doyoung knows the friends that heard you be intimate with Mark. You’re even more thankful for this week away from your boyfriend’s house because, even though you’ve processed everything, you feel like you should probably be alone for a while and really think about what you’re doing.

             When Mark is around or texting you, it’s hard to think straight because you genuinely want him so fucking bad. And when Doyoung is beside you, or texting you, all you can do is imagine a future with him.

             The once bright, clear future of Doyoung in a tuxedo standing in front of you at some extravagant altar becomes a little more foggy at the thought of where Mark would fit into it. Would he be behind Doyoung, watching him marry you to start a real life together? Would he be somewhere in the crowd, waiting to object and expose you for the awful girlfriend you are? Or even worse, would he not be there at all? Running away and disappearing never to insert himself into your life or his brother’s life ever again?

             You don’t want to think about the future right now. Everything you’ve been doing has been so selfish and so fucking fulfilling that you can’t bring yourself to feel any amount of pity for Doyoung and the way he trusts you fully. You never once gave him a reason to not trust you, and you think maybe Mark hasn’t given him a reason. 

             But god, he shouldn’t trust either of you at all. He’s at work, making money, living his life with a supposed loving girlfriend all while offering his little brother an ounce of freedom. What does he get in response to his hard work and kindness? His brother wanting to tongue fuck his girlfriend? And worse yet, his girlfriend wants it even more than his brother does? 

             Your mind is burning through scenarios all day if you have it in you to feel bad. Another scenario involves you, married to Doyoung and sneaking Mark out of your bed when Doyoung returns from work. Even more scenarios of Doyoung finding out and hating you forever, leaving you and meeting someone better. How could you have them both and keep it going? Is something like that even possible?

             Then you get a text.The glaring reality blows right past your head when you’re expecting it to be Mark but you see Doyoung’s name on the screen. You still feel just as excited though. 

 Doie: good news and great news

You: oh? :o 

Doie: Good news: co worker has family issues and had to drop out of the business trip coming up.

             You were about to question why that’s good news, but then Doyoung quickly texts again.

 Doie: great news: i am now being asked to attend the event and it could get me a pretty big promotion. 

You: You’re gonna go right?? When is it?

 Honestly, the way your heart swells at your boyfriend moving up in the world could knock anyone on their feet. No one would ever guess what you do behind his back, because again, you haven’t lost an ounce of love for this man and you probably never will.

 Doie: I leave tomorrow if I accept.

You: how long is it? do you need help packing since it’s such short notice?

Doie: only three days, so i’d be back on friday and still get to see you this weekend

You: it’s a win/win! i can come over tonight since i’m working from home today.

Doie: you good to sleep over and drop me off in the morning at the airport? i can give them an answer now so they can work out the transport and get the tickets transferred to me. 

You: you didn’t need to even ask me first!! you should have immediately said yes! I’ll be over tonight, i’m proud of you

Doie: love you babe :) 

             And so there it is. The glaring issue about to become a blatant, full blown affair. And like, you don’t want to get it twisted. You are so fucking proud of Doyoung and so fucking glad that everything in his life appears to be rushing him straight to major success, but also, he’s going to be gone for three days and that’s three days to try and get over this whole Mark phase(which is unlikely). By using Mark. By fucking him, specifically.

             It doesn’t help that just a few moments later, presumably after Doyoung lets Mark know the plan, Mark is texting you.

 Mark: Doyoung’s leaving for 3 days

You: yep :) 

Mark: ….do i even need to say it

You: nope

Mark: gonna clean my room

 ~

             Dropping Doyoung off was weirdly bitter sweet. His confidence was through the roof as he kissed you goodbye. He even  asked for a second kiss for good luck after rushing back to you a few seconds later. You knew he’d do amazing for this event, even with it so last minute. Everything Doyoung did was with effort and thought put into it. 

             That was the sweet part anyway. The bitter part is the guilt finally coming to you like it should have weeks ago. The fact that Doyoung is walking off to get on an airplane and Mark is at home cleaning his room to fuck you in it. It’s obvious that you don’t deserve either of them. 

             Still, the guilt hitting you now is unnerving. It took so long to come, and only consumes you when Doyoung isn’t around to nearly witness the infidelity? Shaking yourself of disgust, you head out of the airport and still find yourself pulling into Doyoung’s driveway.

             You sit in your car for a moment. Thinking back on all of those small moments with Mark, wondering now if you still want him or if those moments were enough to satisfy the curiosity of your boyfriend’s brother. Even through the guilt, you still want him. 

             Stepping out of your car and walking up to the door felt too unfamiliar and nerve wracking, hearing your heart skip beats and your body melt away into the hole you fucking dug for yourself. However, the moment Mark opens the door and looks at you, before you could even unlock it yourself, every single guilt ridden thought disappears. 

             You don’t know what it is about him, and surely you’ve never felt this way before, because goddamn is it a blinding kind of feeling. Thinking back as you look at him, he seems different now despite having the same face and body language. Before, Mark was cute with his little crush. Weird even, with the way he lingered for too long to see you kiss his brother. Now, when you look at him, he looks like he isn’t at all the cute, shy little brother. He’s Mark, a man with wants and needs that have your name written all over them. You can’t fucking help yourself, and now being able to indulge yourself fully along side him, Doyoung is drowned out in the back of your mind.

             Mark is still shy and timid in the way he moves but he knows just as well as you do what’s about to happen and isn’t at all shying away from the fact that he’s about to fulfill every dirty little thought he’s had about you since he met you. Hell, since he saw photos of you that Doyoung sent before he ever met you.

             On cloud nine, Mark is timid when he, for the first time, makes a move on you. It’s shocking that he did it at all, if you’re being honest, but you lean into him. All he does is grab your hand, a touch that wouldn’t raise suspicions at all in Doyoung if he were to see it, but to you it’s the most intimate thing he could do at this moment. Because he’s leading you, and his eyes are hungry and unable to pull from you. 

             Not a single fucking word is said, everything already spoken and understood with nothing more than the look when he opened that fucking door. Mark leads you to his room, and the energy in the air is so electrifying it scares you. Never has a touch to your hand, or a leading pull to a bedroom made you feel so weightless. You think back to when you held his length in your hand, you had all of the power that day. Now, you don’t think Mark realizes what he could get away with. You’re falling into the same mindset you have with Doyoung, one where you want, need, and could beg to be touched, but you still yourself from falling too far into it. 

             Mark is even more gentle when he lets your hand go and turns towards you with a deep sigh, as if he’s preparing his entire being for what’s coming. Both of you like a deer in headlights, as if this wasn’t intentional or planned, you smile at him. 

             Mark lets out a nervous laugh at your smile, shaking his head and looking down. He’s already stiff beneath his pants, which are conveniently unbuttoned and unzipped. Even you, shamelessly wearing a dress with no panties. Doyoung thought it was for him, and he damn well did fuck you this morning while on a confident-high before you took him to the airport.

             You knew Mark could hear it, and he didn’t appear to care. Because in all fairness, Mark did not give a fuck. Because he knew you weren’t his at that moment, but you fucking would be before the night is up. The next three days, you’re his. Even if he never has you again.

             That deer-in-the-headlights look from Mark fades as his eyes take you in without hiding it for the first time. You imagine he will fall apart if he were to trace his hands under your dress and find that you are completely bare, you imagine you would fall apart much faster if he touched you at all.

             It happens so fast. Too fast, almost with the way he steps up to you confidently. You just now realize that he’s taller than you when he skews his head and looks down at your lips. His breathing is uneven and you can tell he’s doing his best to be confident because you haven’t made a move towards him at all like you usually would. 

             Looking up at him, you want to reach up and grip his hair. His lips are so plush, clearly freshly coated with chapstick. His skin is practically glowing save for the few blemishes that the fringe on his forehead covers, you find yourself wondering if he’s taking this moment to study you too.

 “I’m having a really hard time holding back,” Mark whispers out, inches from your face. 

 “Then don’t.” You encourage him without doubt, hoping that he can break past that last little boundary the two of you haven’t crossed yet. The one where he can kiss you, touch you, have you. Only because you can’t bring yourself to do it at this moment, for some reason.

             The feeling of his lips touching yours was more bruising than you think he intended them to be, but the desperate feeling was all the same as your own, you think. Never had you actually stopped to think of kissing him or how he would go about it. Like running in blind, you’re learning that Mark knows what to do with his tongue, how to pace himself despite not wanting to, and how to reach up and hold your fucking face in a dreamy way. 

             His hands are cupping your face, kissing you like you’re his girlfriend. He still moves his lips in a hungry and desperate way though, in a way that has you struggling to breathe by the force of it alone. 

             When his hands drop from your face and fall to your waist. Every new place he touches feels like it’s set ablaze. You press forward against his chest, walking him back as you continue to kiss, all the way until he falls back on his bed with an ‘oof’ sound. 

             Still, his face is slack as he stares up at you now, eyes struggling to stay trained on your face for too long as you begin to take off your jacket and reach over to pull at his shirt. 

             So badly you want to see him shirtless again, but he doesn’t argue, eagerly lifting it off of his body and lying back again. 

             Now that the initial intimacy has been established, you finally feel you coming back to yourself, thinking more clearly and finding a small list in your head of things you want and need to do for him. Starting with letting him really look at you.

 “I know how much you like my panties, but–” You smile, standing in front of him and trying to keep your eyes averted from his length threatening to break through his pants. 

 “Let me see,” Mark urges you, tilting his head with a swallow and training his eyes on your thighs. 

             He thinks you must be wearing the prettiest pair today, for him, not for his brother. But when you lift your leg and straddle him, his face contorts to confusion and then to pleasure when you sit against his cock. Of course, with the fabric covering his length, he still can’t tell that you’re not actually wearing any panties at all.

 “You wanna see?” You ask for his clarification, bunching your dress up in your hands and preparing to lift it so he can see your bare folds sitting against him. 

             Mark blinks at you, nodding his head and nibbling on his bottom lip. He’s doing everything in his power not to reach up and grab your waist just to guide you on him. He’s afraid to move too fast, he’s afraid to embarrass himself with how fucking desperate he is for you right now.

 “Look,” You say, nodding between your legs and lifting your dress.

 “Goddamn,” Mark gasps as his eyes focus on the fact that you’re leaving a small wet spot against his pants. That’s your pussy on him. 

            Without a second thought his hands are on your waist, pushing and pulling you forward and backwards against his length. You blink hard at the sensation of the fabric rubbing against your lips harshly, and then open your eyes to look at him again.

             He is still staring between your legs, almost losing himself to this alone. Then again, it’s the first time he’s ever seen you bare and he cannot get past the fact that Doyoung gets to see it whenever he fucking wants. 

 “I can feel it–” Mark chokes, referring to your wetness seeping through his pants and onto him. 

             You smile at him, now moving your hips on your own as you pull his hands away and push them to lay above his head. If he thinks this is good, you want to see how fast he reaches for you again.

             It’s so easy when you lift yourself up, and incredibly cute in the way his eyes follow your core when you lift. He doesn’t even realize that you shove his sweats down and sit right back down, this time coating him in full with your slippery juices. 

 “God, fuck,” He moans in disbelief, and just as expected his hands shoot to your waist and hold you down against him. You’re not sure if it’s intentional or not, but he’s incredibly sexy in the way he moves without thinking. 

 “Fuck?” You question cutely, forcing your hips to slide up his length despite him trying to hold you there. 

 “How are you always so wet?” He questions in a whimper, letting you move and instead grabbing the hem of your dress himself and holding it up so he can watch you slide against him. 

 “How are you so big?” You try to compliment, feeling him between your folds and wondering just how deep he could fuck you if he so wanted to. “So, so big.” You groan out this time, feeling the head of his cock bumping against your clit every few seconds.

             Mark obviously doesn’t answer, his fingers are gripping your dress so tightly and his eyes are burning the image of you doing this into his head. He never wants to forget this moment of feeling you against him for probably the first and last time, because in all realness, this can’t happen again if he thinks too hard about it. 

 “I want to fuck you so bad,” He admits. “Just this once, please.” 

             You nod cutely, swiping his hands away from your dress and lifting it off of you in full.       His eyes are now glued to your tits and whatever it was he was saying is long forgotten as he watches them move when you slide up against him again.

             The way he shuts up is entirely too arousing. You can see him thinking about you, practically able to see him process every part of your body on top of him. 

 “Take your pants off, quickly.” You finally say, frustrated when you slide back and off of him. 

             He does as he’s told when you stand to your feet in wait, and instantly he’s lifting himself and grabbing you, pulling you right back on him. 

 “You’re so fucking hot,” Mark whines, pushing your hips against him and keeping himself upright, careful not to fall back against the mattress so he can plant his lips against your neck. 

             You feel a bite and pull back from him, hips stilling.

“You can’t leave any bruises–” You scold him, and he simply nods and goes back to kissing against your neck and shoulder.

 “Right, wouldn’t want him knowing that I fuck you better, right?” Mark mocks the situation as a whole, using reality as a form of ego boost, hoping to god that you lean into it rather than run from it.

 It makes you a little angry, but you get it. Mark’s confidence must be through the roof because never would you have imagined him speaking to you like this, or mentioning his brother at all.

 “Prove it and maybe i’ll play along.” You try to challenge him, but you know that he might actually be right. His size is definitely bigger than Doyoung’s, but can he work it the same way, or better? Can the shy, timid little brother actually satisfy you the way your boyfriend does?

 Mark pulls back from kissing your neck only for a moment, moving to your lips and wincing at the feeling of your folds sliding against him still, maybe he did get a little too cocky there. 

 “Prove it?” He breathes against your lips, gripping your waist tighter and guiding you up. 

 You already know what he’s doing and don’t shy away from it. Usually there’s foreplay, and you’re sure he wanted to do more than just fuck you, but too little too late. You’re hungry for it and so is he, if the sounds between you are enough to go by. 

 Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lift yourself and allow his hand to disappear between the two of you. You can feel him position himself right at your entrance and all you need to do is sink down. You don’t yet though and instead look at him.

 He stares back at you with anticipation, and when you sink down just a tiny bit, he’s lunging his lips forward and kissing you again. Continuously as you sink down inch by inch, feeling him stretch you out in a searing type of pleasure, Mark just groans into your mouth. You can feel his chest heave against you as he feels your walls start to envelop him and when you’re finally seated, he pulls you down with him as he falls against the mattress.

 There, in a hug, his mindless kissing becomes even more vacant as he holds you in place, fucking his hips up and into you in an aggressive pace. His lips release from yours and his moans come out strangled, breathless, and entirely desperate for you.

 He’s deeper inside of you than any man has ever been able to reach without the aid of a toy, and the head and thickness of it is far better than any plastic could ever be. You imagine you sound just as desperate as he does right now. Unable to wiggle in his grasp, you just take it. You were well versed in that, at least.

 Mark holds you there for at least a full moment, feeling you clenching and drenching his cock in a way that makes the slide easy and pleasurable for him. His hips can move much faster this way, but the fear of coming too quickly forces him to slow his movements and open his eyes.

 Your legs are spred out over his own, his cock is buried into you completely, and you fucking just take it? God, No wonder Doyoung is in love with you. 

 Mark’s arms release you from the hug and he uses one hand to lift your face.

 “Sorry,” He says before getting a look at your face, but he ends up losing any thought in his head when he notes how blown your pupils are, face still contorted in a silent moan as you bounce yourself against him now.  

             What he was gonna say was that he was sorry he lost control for a second, but what he ends up saying now is “Oh my god, I want this so bad.” 

             Despite that Mark is getting everything he wants at this moment, all he can do is look at you and watch you grind your clit against his pelvic bone chasing a pleasure that he knows you’re feeling intensely right now. He thinks of himself in pity, all those nights of wanting exactly this and never knowing that he actually fucking gets to do it.

             Without thinking, Mark doesn’t even know why he does it, but he keeps his cock buried deeply into you and knocks you over. He follows your body, adjusting himself behind you and pulling your leg up and draping it over his hip. There, he slips out of you only slightly to hear you whine at the loss. You’ve gone so silent save for moaning and he thinks he’s in love with you. Stuffing you again, he smiles at the way you throw your head back and look at him from behind you. 

             One hand now reaches around you and cradles one of your tits, the other snaking between your legs and experimentally tapping against your clit. 

 “Damn, Mark,” You manage to say in a more stable voice, realizing that he’s really fucking you in the spooning position now? Of course he fucking would. It’s such an intimate position, and the angle, you could argue, is one of the best you think you’ve ever felt. 

 “Hm?” He hums against your shoulder, feeling your body jerk as he fucks his length into you repeatedly. “Feels good, right?” He asks, moaning himself this time at the way you close your legs around his hand and grind back against him.

             He’s quick to abandon your clit to push your legs open again, draping it right back in the same spot over his own legs. He can imagine how spread out you look, despite not being able to see it in this position. He’s heard time and time that women like this angle, and now’s the chance to test it.

             This time, when you reach back and pull his face to yours, now kissing him with more force than you had before, he imagines the rumors were true. His fingers find their way back to your clit. 

             Mark’s moving his hips with intent now, trying his best to control how good he feels so that way he can focus on yours, and after one particularly deep thrust, he notices that you jolt and shiver.

 “Oh my god, did I find it?” He asks, experimentally pressing his hips up the same way. 

 “Fuck-” You choke out, your body jolting without intent again and feeling shockwaves of what you can only describe as mini orgasms shooting throughout your muscles. “Right there, keep doing that,” You frantically encourage him, mouth falling slack against his lips. 

             He does, pressing his hips harder this time in the same pay. Repeatedly hitting the soft spot inside of you and ultimately sending you into a world of something you’ve, strangely, never felt before in terms of sex. 

             Mark watches you roll your head back, moaning out with a slack and somewhat pained face as he does it. He cannot fucking believe he found your g-spot on the first try and he will be damned to stop now. 

             He focuses now, grunting at the way your walls clench him so tightly each time he hits your spot with the head of his cock. He’s determined to make you come, make you babble out strings of his name and how good he feels. He needs you to feel so good that you’ll never think twice of letting him do this again, and again, and again, no matter how close you could be to getting caught. 

             His hips are going at a pace faster now than he thought possible, and with his fingers working your clit paired with his cock driving into the single most pleasurable spot inside of you, you find your body tensing up and your mind erasing every thought and memory. It’s so much to feel at once but you feel too weak to stop him for just the smallest moment of collecting yourself. 

 “Are you going to?” He asks, broken with his own moans and deep breaths as he does his best to keep pace and work you through it. “I know you want to.” He manages to breathe out, mimicking your own words from the time you had him in the palm of your hand. 

             And you do want to. So you fucking do. You come hard around him, clenching him so tightly that Mark stills his hips in disbelief at the way your body moves when you release. He can barely get the words out when he speaks, feeling you drench him with liquid fire. “You’re squeezing me so tight–” He chokes out, jerking his hips back and trying to pull out of you for his own release.

 “Do not pull out,” You groan as your orgasm continues to choke you of your breath. “Let me feel it, do it.” You demand, pressing yourself back and enveloping the inches of him that he had pulled from you.

 “Fuck. fuck.” He moans out louder this time, hands gripping your waist and holding you against him as he shakes behind you. You can feel him twitch inside of you as he shoots those thick, white ropes of cum against your walls. For a brief moment you remembered when he released from your hand, pressing himself slowly and roughly into your first. You were right. 

             Mark buries himself as deep as he can go, only grinding back a few centimeters before pressing himself flush against you as another spurt paints the flesh inside of you. You feel so full, and he’s packed so tightly in you  that you genuinely think this is the first time you’ve ever actually felt a man come inside of you. Like really feel it. 

             When he’s done, he’s so fucking fast to pull out of you. It shocks you, actually.

 “Where are you going?” You ask, looking behind you as he backs away from you momentarily in a panic. 

 “I–” He pauses, looking at you and the way your eyes look back at him in a different type of panic. “Don’t know.” He says, getting back onto the bed and reluctantly putting his arms around you in a hug.

 “I don’t know how to like, end this.” He admits against your shoulder, still reeling from the fact that it happened, but now in a post-nut state of mind and kind of scared of how much he loved doing that with you. 

 “End it?” You ask, pulling away from him. “You want to stop?”

 “You don’t?” He asks, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes. 

 “I mean, we both know what we are doing…” You trail off, sitting yourself up and fully aware that the guilt will always hit you at random times, but still, you want Mark. “And we still kept doing it.”

 “Yeah, but–” 

 “But?” You ask, turning your body to face him as he sits himself up now. The nakedness of your bodies is not at all embarrassing at this moment. 

 “Mark, I don’t think I can like, not want you if you still want me.”

             He nods his head reluctantly, wondering if this is you offering the fact that you’re willing to straight up, blatantly, and shamelessly cheat on Doyoung with him.

 “Ugh,” Mark puts his face in his hands and then runs his fingers through his hair. “This is so fucked up.”

 “Yeah, it is.” You admit, leaning towards him. “But If you never tell anyone,”

 “No, no! I wouldn’t.” Mark throws his hands up defensively. “I only feel bad when you’re not here.” He says questioning himself. “I don’t think I’d be able to like, not ever do this again.”

 “So we are both in this same little fucked up boat?” You ask. 

 “I guess so.” He laughs at himself, and then at you. “If he ever finds out, you know i’ll be found in a ditch somewhere, right?”

             You laugh, despite it being the worse fucking joke in the world. Running hand in hand with Mark into a fire that you both fucking searched for. 

 “Well, I’m not gonna fucking tell him.” You say, pressing the important matter at hand. “The point is, Mark, I need you to understand that I’ve never cheated on anyone.”

             Somehow, he lightens the mood.

 “Damn, I must be special.”

             You guess he is.

  ~

[hazelfoureyes]

so for your poll on if vox has a normal dick or not, my thought process is no because i hc that the tip glows (like his claws) and he comes battery acid LMAO also idk if this is the right place to be saying this i just wanted to remain anonymous instead of replying iykwim

I CACKLED

No no the inbox is always the safe place to say shit because if its truly too much I just won’t reply to save us the mutual shame

Ugh battery acid dick needs to be caged and cucked. I can imagine Val having a normal ish dick but… Vox? Is… is it skin? Is it a dildo he attaches? Can he change it out? Is it blue?! How do I WRITE SMUT FOR THIS COCK

Does Vox have a normal dick?

[denial-permanente]

Why do you think that in porn and in erotica the man in chastity is always a very submissive beta cuck, who ends up watching his wife or gf get pounded by a dude with a massive dick?

After all strap ons do exist so it's not like sex is completely off the table.

🔒 Tom here. Porn is a fantastic microcosm of capitalistic economics. Porn is almost always one of the first things that people experiment with when they have new technology. You can find naughty French Daggeurotypes (early photographic process) from the 1800s.

To answer your question, my guess is that the sissy cuck chastity porn is the most widely consumed, and that those who watch it are willing to pay for it. That is there's a higher demand fo| it than there is for romantic or softer porn featuring a man "Foxing" his wife or Domme.

Or from another angle, maybe sissy beta cuck porn is easier to make. You don't need much of a script (gosh, did the recent 2023 writers strike have any effect on porn scripts? 🤣), you just need two guys in a room with a woman.

I have seen stills (shots taken from movies) with locked men wearing strapons, but it's almost always in a bdsm context.

And again, I'm going to mention that one of the reasons that I started this blog is because I really have not run across very much that aligns with how @mrs--edge and I live this. Most captioned images on other blogs also run toward the sissy beta cuck humiliation side. There's really not much featuring "normal" women or masculine locked men. Maybe more vanilla-ish couples just aren't looking at porn?

[who1ssheesh]

If you're still doing it I can't wait to see the prompt with squalos s/o being buds with Xanxus 😂

Squalo's S/O being buds with Xanxus

Pairings: Squalo/Reader, Xanxus/Reaser (PLATONIC)

Notes: yes. absolutely. i live for those two idiots. This one is long af compared to Xanxus' one and I can't explain why. But I had so much fun with this, Xanxus is a soulmate in a bro-ish way????

Warnings: good ol swearing, brief mentions of sex (not much really), probably OOC and terrible english (ur not my teacher ha ha)

• First of all, holy shit that’s impressive?

• Second of all, must be mentioned that Xanxus kinda….doesn't see women as friends? He looks at them sexually right away. Or so he thought

• Third of all, Squalo gotta be terrified

• Fourth of all (that's a lot of counting) Squalo situation is not having any drama as Xanxus' does, he is a pure comedy gold and so is his relationship with you. That's what no daddy issues does to you, but what do i know

• Not comedy as if a clown comedy, but a good harsh bri'ish comedy - insert Utopia reference. Squalo is more than confident in you since you obviously date for some time for him to move in with you and therefore reveal you to his boss.

• I'll tell you a secret btw, Xanxus probably guessed he has you because Squalo is a loser cuck and started to act differently.

• I think Xanxus doesn’t give a shit enough to just bust into Squalo’s apartment for any stupid reason as if it’s his own. So if you at least haven’t heard of him as your boyfriend’s boss, you’re going to meet him in person

• Xanxus coming up and breaking your door just to nap:

🧍

• Squalo never told Xanxus where he lives, that bitch just knows

• Never in his life Xanxus expected to see one day a shmoll girl there and not hear screaming at the top of one’s lungs. He still says Squalo is a fucking virgin loser femboy ugly ass haha lol lmao, he can’t be deprived of those shitty jokes…

• I mean it, Xanxus can get pissed seeing you too being lovey-dovey but I'll expand this drama later

• Xanxus is basically your adopted stray cat, deal with it

• Squalo won't say this out loud or says this very...covertly and probably insults you along the way, but anyways he really appreciate you dealing with all that bullshit. He does indeed value strong character - you don't need to wield a big sword or shoot a gun, but going through his path even though you can be confused or scared means much. He knows a lot of cowards who can shoot a gun, so...Squalo looks much deeper than that. Shark, ocean, DEEP, get it<<<<<<</////??????? I'll see myself out.

• He is lowkey terrified but...also chill? Unlike Xanxus, he doesn't overthink (at least not much). He of course draws a line at some things - at first Squalo was really mad at his boss staying...alone....with you....at you house (he is jealous) cause Xanxus is immoral bitch and would try to fuck you if he wants to.

• Also is you start gossiping or making fun of him with Xanxus, holy shit Squalo is quick to start raging. It's one thing to gossip and laughing at some bud, but doing so about your partner is a huge red flag for him. If you have any problems. come straight to Squalo he is an adult and prefers just discussing problems.

• Well, Xanxus also will certainly not respect you for trying to spill out your bullshit on him and talking shit about his captain. He has standards. (And not because he is a little uwu girl and actually deep DEEP like ocean bottom deep cares about Squalo)

• “The fuck happened here?”, Squalo is on edge, to say the least, seeing stains of blood around the apartment and you cleaning it with a clearly annoyed expression

“So your boss-“

“My boss?!”

“-got over again”

“AGAIN???”

• So, the situation: Squalo, as a person who values trust in relationship the most, is really pissed (sad….) you’re keeping the truth away from him, and you, thinking he’s aware his boss is chilling around since…..well, Superbia is his right hand, makes sense?

• You didn’t know about their burning hate for each other. Gotta be jealous, his love to you will never be as true, fiery and emotional as his undying HATE!!!! for Xanxus

• You screaming “get a fucking room, deepshits” when they start arguing again

• You probably got Xanxus with an insult. Obviously. Sorry, you’ve signed a pact, nothing in your life will be normal again, just like your boyfriend (he’s a little unstable. Just a little)

• Xanxus haven’t been around your house for long - leaving more work for Superbia and leaving right after, quickly patching a quick wound and stealing alcohol, of course

• You’ve been quieter than a mouse, thinking you shouldn’t be involved in Squalo’s business, but one day Xanxus was noticeably not feeling good, ready to pass out, so…you helped him obviously

• Xanxus being Xanxus didn’t thank you, got pissed because air was too warm for his liking or smth and was whining that actually you did a poor job tending his wound

• “Bitch, I will kill you in your sleep?” sent him away, he honestly found this hilarious (we’re talking about your audacity here)

• You got a chuckle out of him, whick you didn't think about much at first, but a Squalo's shocked expression said everything. You can be proud

• Lowkey Xanxus doesn't separate you two together in his mind, you both are a one Superbia homunculus in his mind. Maybe that's why Xanxus with Squalo's s/o feels so....included for all three of you compared to other way around lol

• Even your jokes are on the same line istg

• Xanxus feels even...bittersweet.

• He is...kinda cautious? He knows Squalo is capable of getting out from the devil himself (remember how may times he "died" in manga lol), but you...well...he double checks every visit. Xanxus is very brutal and, unbothered and nonchalant but very smart. Makes sure no one is on his tail.

• Don't get me wrong, it's not in a sweet family way, but you kinda start having dinners together? Both are bitching around but you notice in the end they start having a human conversation instead of their regular unga-bunga

• Xanxus likes this

• Xanxus feels home

• Unlike Squalo, he can't show his devotion to save his life, so you just know there is a "useful friend of a friend that can solve some problems with a call". But I'll tell you, Xanxus will double-check if something is serious, not just throw problems as subordinates.

• Mafia is not flowers and sunshine. Those two have had a conversation "what to do if Squalo dies". Xanxus probably threw a glass at him and said to not be an idiot, but he didn't say no. You're the first person he can call at least an acquaintance, so...

• Well, that counts when we talk about older Xanxus, I'm sure he is mellowed out by that time (+ just enough time for you and Squalo to establish your relationship)

• He's not the type to get over at 2am if there's a problem lol. Maybe he can miss a call cause he's a heavy sleeper. But if anything, you have his subordinates at your place.

• He will teach you to drink. Will laugh his ass off when you fail to beat his ass at drinking competition again and Squalo is having a heart stroke on the background

• Xanxus will turn you in a copy of himself just to piss ofs Squalo lol

• You learning his mood by the intonation he says 'trash'

• Also you calling him janitor or sum in return. Varia horrified you dare to do this, and Xanxus laughing. He still shoots your way though...

• If you're not Italian, you MUST teach him swearing on your native language. Also tell him if there is any local alcohol (of course)

• "Yeah, I teached him coupla words", you laugh, looking obviously happy being a useful friend and having a surprisingly cozy chat with Xanxus.

Squalo is very confused by that. "What the fuck, but he DOES know this language already?"

• I'm sorry but so many sex jokes. Xanxus doesn't give a shit what you do there in the bedroom (until you invite him over ahaha joke unless), but he's going to be a little shit

• Xanxus is 12 yo btw.

• "Can you suck him off so he shuts the fuck up or smth?"

• LITERALLY LOOKING AT SQUALO "NO BITCHES????"

• This idiot fools around sometimes and throws 9-yo-school-bully insults lol

• "He said he wants to marry /insert random woman name/ when he grows up". 25+ y/o Squalo looking at him just:

🧍

• I hope you two have a cat. Xanxus will feed it. Raw meat and everything a fluffy boy shouldn't but it's Xanxus we're talking about. Literally a teenage edgy teen "ITS NOT A PHASE MOM" at your house.

• Naps on your bed ONLY to leave hiss smell of tabaco, whiskey and a heavy cologne. He 100% heehaws thinking about this - Squalo will NEVER be able to have sex if there is reminding him of Xanxus, like an instant turn off. You always try to complain to Xanxus about this absurd situation but start laughing to the point of crying, Xanxus becomes HYSTERICAL at these moments.

• He will teach you how to shoot. Usually he just drinks there and says you're pathetic while you try. But he keeps inviting you himself, so....Xanxus is a little sappy shit. You only use Squalo's photos as a target, so you get sad a bit and probably tell your boyfriend afterwards. He will say he wants to kill you both or smth.

• Xanxus bringing you ideas in your bed. "Hey so you can tie him up and beat to death as a foreplay".

• He will make you rank up bodies of other women he finds hot. Also if you're a girls' girl, Xanxus will ruin this completely. Basically like "just by looking at her tell be if she's a bitch"

• Xanxus enjoys if you talk shit about someone cause he is the same way.

• He will drag you into his shitty gang ideas. If Squalo could go gray-headed again, he would.

• Squalo looking at you both beaten up anf almost getting caught by the police: "why are you like this."

• To be honest, you may be having a serious talk with your man. Squalo is unironically worried, he did a LOT to keep you away from mafia but here you are. If you are very good at convincing (20 CHA lol), he can just a little bit become convinced that you getting hardened can be useful for mafia life "just in case".

• Also MAYBE he can notice the influence Xanxus has on you. Feminine clothes change to leather jackets and grunge, your knuckles even being bloody way too often, you may be smoking more frequently. Squalo is kind of chill with you finding you identity, but if you start wearing feathers in your hair HE LOOSES HIS MIND

• Xanxus will personally train you, if you ever discover your flame. They will have a fight about this with Squalo.

• Xanxus is proud of you tho. One day he will say this, I'm sure

• People know your bond, they know he does appreciate your opinion even in Varia business, and even anything happened he knows Varia is in the right hand - Squalo is more than competent and there is a little angry copy of himself so Xanxus' spirit always haunts Vongola till the end of time. hehe

• You are a badass little sis. He has never had a family, but that...feels nice.

[daenystheedreamer]

thoughts on visenya+rhaenys's dynamic? like... what was their deal.

i dont like enemies/jealous over aegon but i also dont like perfect lesbians or lesbians who just ignored aegon. both are a bit boring to me. i like a visenya who thinks she's better than rhaenys, that she's escaped the patriarchy better (by gaming it) and a rhaenys who somewhat pities visenya, thinks visenya is lacking/missing out because she doesnt share in rhaenys' love of love. i think they're a united front against non-targs though.

nsfw ish? under the cut, just my hc of their sexual relationship. not csa but tw csa for general targ gothic family ick

i think they did have some kind of a sexual relationship, perhaps as children experimenting and fooling around. love if visenya is using at as a power thing like she's cucking aegon and rhaenys is trying to show her love the only way she knows how, the only way her family has taught her. i think visenya has a cuckuldry kink i think she had fun cucking aegon. fun visual: visenya rhaenys and aegon on vhagar's back, rhaenys/visenya doing ungodly things to that pusswa and aegon on the hotel cuck saddle.

[fluffypotatey]

OK SO! the tommyinnit 101. technically this isn't really tied to an smp though.

so first we must start at the very beginning. the dream smp. in late 2020-early 2021, the dream smp was at the height of its popularity, and tommyinnit played one of its most prominent characters (tommy, henceforth referred to as c!tommy). now the thing about c!tommy is that both he and cc!tommy (idk if i've talked about the c! vs cc! divide before but that is its own 101) were under 18 at the time, and therefore if you shipped his character with anyone about 70% of the fandom would tear you apart.

honestly dsmp isn't too relevant here, though, except to introduce tommy and tubbo. you see, in a world of straight men using their little block guys to flirt with one another, tommy was Very vocal about loving women. being Straight was part of his Bit in the same way that being Annoying and playing the able sisters music from animal crossing was.

anyways in late 2022 he uploaded a vlog of him and tubbo getting married, tubbo mostly against his will. they pulled out all the stops- got an ordained minister (their friend scott, who you may recognize from the life series 101s) to do a little ceremony, had a lot of their friends acting as different members of the wedding party, even signed and filed real paperwork!

yep. that's right. they signed legal fucking paperwork. i've heard that tubbo didn't even know it was a marriage certificate, he thought it was a waiver for being in the video or smth. that's right, known straight man tommyinnit tricked his best friend into getting Real Life Legally Married to him, presumably just for shits and giggles.

This fact went unnoticed until mid-late 2023. tubbo was playing on the QSMP with some other people (i know FitMC, not sure who else), and was joking about going to Vegas and getting married to Fit. and then tubbo realized he was still married to tommy.

also, around that time, tommy wrote and published (to wattpad) a rpf crack fic called Tommy x Tubbo Love Triangle, where tommy leaves his Real Life Girlfriend molly for tubbo (molly dies directly afterwards because it was so romantic) and then he and tubbo kiss without tongue. tubbo was not consulted during the production of this fanfiction.

after learning about the marriage, tubbo started working to get a Real Life Divorce from his Real Life Friend Tom. tommy refused to sign the paperwork. if any of this ever goes to court tubbo fully intends to livestream the whole thing.

around 2 months ago, tommy did a parody of "I'm Just Ken" called "I'm Just Tom," in which he begs tubbo not to divorce him. it must be seen to be believed. idk if the link will work in an ask but i need you to see it https://youtu.be/laAPXcxjDlI?si=wPQM3ZJHBIv11Cfr

also if you're wondering how molly, tommy's Real Life Girlfriend, feels about all of this? she thinks it's hilarious. for the past month or two-ish (?), tommy's been doing a stand-up comedy tour in america (because they are all british), and at the same time tubbo's been doing a subathon (aka tubbathon bc it's tubbo) (a subathon is a twitch stream with a timer on it. the stream ends when the timer finishes out, and whenever someone subscribes to the streamer's channel more time is added) (the tubbathon is still going btw and isn't slowing down anytime soon). at one point molly came onto the tubbathon, and tubbo bought her a new phone bc hers was shit. (directly afterwards tommy posted a vlog about it, saying he felt like he was being cucked by his gay husband)

fans have dubbed these three the nightmare polycule, and it's not hard to see why.

and then, finally, this morning (last night in england time), tommy and tubbo were on a phone call. tubbo (gay) encouraged tommy to "say the f slur!" and tommy said, and i quote, "I'm bicurious, so I guess I could say like a fifth of it. [Tochat] Hear that, ya -ggots?"

i needed to tell you all of this so that you would understand the full insanity of all of this. there are some bits that don't really translate unless you were a dsmp fan in the 2020-2021 era, but i need you to see the ongoing insanity this man creates. he had been planning to use that joke for his live comedy show

ok uh

wow

i some pointers on his singing voice (a bit too belty there, that'll damage the throat later, some vowels need rounding)

hilarious that he rhymed Tom with arm

reading this was like a fever dream

molly is me tbh this is the most hilarious drama i have ever read

his comedic timing is beautiful

what the fuck

[tteokdoroki]

If you still want thirsts, this has been plaguing my mind for like weeks now. Just the thought of you wanting to have sex with Nagi but he’s too lazy, so Reo fucks you up and makes you cum while Nagi’s watching to get you sensitive and overstimulated so Nagi doesn’t have to do too much work and to get Nagi in the mood and motivated to fuck you. Then after, while Nagi’s fucking you, Reo jacks off to watching Nagi cum in you while you’re fucked out of your head and he’s worked up. Brainrot fr

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, smut, creampies, male masturbation, oral sex (reader receiving), possession, cucking (?), threesomes (ish), overstimulation, edging, pro player!reo, pro player!nagi, afab!reader.

just the idea of nagi letting his baby be used by other people when he can’t be bothered fucks me up !!! it’s not that he doesn’t wanna fuck you, it’s just that he needs a little motivation — nagi is a guy who works by points and reward systems, he needs a prize at the end in order to have him do something. when he’s extra tired from practice he can easily slip out of the mood, even if you whine and beg, plead with him with your fingers splayed against his broad chest.

so nagi does the next best thing, has his best friend step in for him with the promise of getting you nice and ready for your little cunt to cream around sei’s cock. all the work done by reo.

he watches with greedy greyish eyes, milky hand wrapped around his milky shaft as he fists it to the tune of your muffled squeaks each time reo’s fingers and tongue hit that special spot inside you. “don’t hide your face, pretty thing. let reo see how good he’s making you feel,” nagi goads quietly, head rolling back against the back of the chair he’s seated in across the room.

between his soft, dreamy moans and reo’s ravaging slurps at the juices between your folds — you can hardly stand it. not knowing whether you’re crying out for seishiro’s thick cock or more of his best friend’s mouth on you. the purple haired player rubs your clit in soft circles, getting you close enough to feel your sex dribble juices into his mouth but not enough to cum. the sensation makes you writhe in the sheets and beg for nagi to come over and fuck you stupid.

eventually he can no longer stand it, nagi’s pupils blown white and his cock a leaky mess from hearing how wet and pathetic you sound. he easily manoeuvers reo out of the way, throwing his weight on top of your trembling body and using it to thrust his hips into you nice and deep. nagi whines and whispers, chasing the rewarding heat of your cunt wrapped around you because god — he missed it, missed having you like this.

you leave scratches on his back, tug at his hair and nothing is enough to calm you after having your orgasm denied by reo over and over again.

“so noisy, angel,” nagi sighs lazily, but the way he pounds your pussy tells a different story. “didn’t know you needed it that bad.” he’s mean without meaning to be, condescending at best and it does nothing but make your pussy twitch, arousal bathing nagi’s cock in its safe heaven inside of you — destroying you and your brain from the inside out.

you hiccup, wail, back arching — just a little more, need to be a little closer. but then reo’s behind you, taking your head into his lap while your body falls limp and at the mercy of your hungry boyfriend. one that wants nothing more than to devour you.

“play nice nagi, they were so good letting me prep them for you.”

“such a pain t’watch. shoulda been me, not you.” seishiro growls in response. his sudden possessiveness triggers a spasm in your cunt and a shock wave of pleasure from the chemicals in your brain right down to clit. you’re close, so close and all it takes is another wild buck of your hips before you’re cumming hard and fast for nagi. “that’s it, angel, give it t’me. i want your cum. so good f’me.”

seishiro is right behind you, his mop of sweaty white hair dropping to your neck whilst his load paints your insides in a similar shade — seeping out from between your folds with how thick and viscous it is. he collapses on top of you in exhaustion, lulled to sleep by your dying moans and the hand in his hair that doesn’t belong to you.

reo stays seated behind your head, playing with nagi’s loose strands before kissing your forehead sweetly — after all, it was because of him that you got seishiro’s cum in you at all.

[chase-omega]

In Breath of Fire, a human woman marries an anthropomorphic wolf man. They even kiss on screen. Breath of Fire fans didn't complain.

In Octodad, a human woman marries an anthropomorphic octopus man. Octodad fans didn't complain.

In Roger Rabbit, a human woman is married to an anthropomorphic rabbit man. Roger Rabbit fans didn't complain.

In Regular Show, a human-ish girl makes out with an anthropomorphic raccoon man. Regular Show fans did not complain.

And don't get me started on what happens in Guilty Gear… And Guilty Gear fans did not complain.

OH BUT AS SOON AS THERE'S A TINY BIT OF ROMANTIC TENSION BETWEEN A HUMAN WOMAN AND SONIC THE HEDGEHOG, SUDDENLY THAT'S WHEN THE INTERNET EXPLODES.

NO, IT'S NOT THE SAME AS BESTIALITY, YOU FUCKING INBRED CUCKS!

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi

I was wondering can we get a size difference with both Aegon, Aemond with a female reader.👀

YOU GOT IT! It went a little more Aemond-ish but I hope you enjoy anyways :)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Open relationship, teasing, cucking a wee bit Targaryen style, size difference, Aemond’s huge dong, pnv!sex, reader is actually Aegon’s gf

Kink Bingo - Size Difference

Your eyes widened dramatically, Aemond’s huge hand clamping over your drooling mouth. Aegon stumbled into his room drunkenly, ambling to the bed and flopping down. Next to you getting dicked down within an inch of your life by his brother. Aegon rolled onto his belly with a sigh, already puffing away in slumber.

Your eyes met Aemond’s sole violet orb, wickedly grinning above your heaving frame in the darkness. His lips traced your ear while he breathed, “Be quiet, we don’t want to share right now do we?” You nodded obediently, too focused on being practically split in half by his cock. Although through the haze of your thoughts— Aegon’s pretty lips on your skin would be nice.

Your whine was muffled by Aemond’s palm as he returned to rolling his hips up, stuffing cock inside your tight pussy. You never understood how he made it fit, but damn if it wasn’t perfect. Aemond’s hair made a silver curtain around your vision, him smiling down cruelly. He loved anything that involved cucking Aegon.

The blunt head of his cock rubbed maddeningly against your silky sweet spot, sending uncontrollable twitches up and down your body. You mewled, wetting Aemond’s palm. His toned body covered your own head to toe, broad chest rubbing against your sensitive tits. He tutted softly, “I know, it’s hard to be so quiet when you’re full up on my cock.”

He grinned wider, hips canting over and over into you. Your lower belly was tight and awash with heat, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Aemond’s other hand came around to thumb at your clit, dragging his calloused fingertip up, down, up, down. Your thighs clamped around his hips, small hands gouging the flexing muscles of the blonde’s back.

You were close, so fucking close, everything felt like fire on your body. You writhed around Aemond’s cock— more like aborted little movements with how speared and held down you were. He purred, “Are you going to cum on my cock next to your sleeping boyfriend? Hm?”

You shook your head, embarrassment rearing it’s laughing face. Aemond was so good you couldn’t help yourself. The younger brother spoke your thought aloud, “He can’t fuck you like I do, I see why you roll over and spread your legs for me.”

He pinched your clit, sending you reeling and thrashing over the edge. Aemond’s larger body still had you caged in but he couldn’t stop the bed shifting wildly underneath. You babbled under his hand, eyes rolling up and shedding hot tears. The Targaryen grunted at the sudden rhythmic pulsing around his dick, burying it as deep as he could in reaction.

A sleepy huff sounded off next to your ear, you too busy getting slapped around with pleasure. Aemond snorted, “Don’t leave your princess alone all night and maybe I won’t have to take over.” He fucked into your swollen pussy for effect, removing his palm to release your strained cry.

Aegon whimpered, “S’not fair— fuck you Aemond!”

You looked to him in horror, apologizing, “S-sorry!”

Aegon’s pouting lips split into a grin at your pretty red cheeks and tears, petting your cheek. He hummed, “Next time you wake me up sweetheart.” You nodded eagerly, preening at your other lover’s attentions. Aemond snapped his hips and tone, “Sure, I guess. Stupid idiot needs to learn how to fuck anyways.”

Aegon hissed, “I do too know how to fuck, let me have her now, you’ve got your fill!” He shoved at Aemond’s shoulder childishly. You squirmed again at the shifting of his cock.

You cried out again at the thought of your favorite brothers taking turn after turn on top of your pliant body. Both of them covering you up with their bodies and cocks.

[realhankmccoy]

fuckin cracks me up that Americans think of Blood Meridian as postmodernist.... ahahahahaha... this stupid fucking country. there's a lot of them who think it is, too. I guess they didn't notice the Bible literally materialising in it. I guess they never read a Cormac McCarthy interview? I guess they don't know what a western crossed with Stephen King written in a flat modernist style that -- oh how it would displease Harold Bloom, perhaps, to hear it -- clearly has Hemingway in it?

Who reads that book and thinks 'PoMo?'

anyhow at least that idiot who got it wrong tonight -- as he always gets everything wrong -- wrote a few good lines creepin on me before devolving into the standard issue conservative cucked stuff implausible seams showing about pussy (drag is only magical if you're convincing, hunty, and so is straight drag) and trying to use too many big words like Elon does in order to 'sound more intelligent' which obviously doesn't work when these people don't know the reason big words exist and how to use them... like saying you're 'aspirationally Jewish' which is still driving me up the wall... Elon says so much stupid shit.

so yes if that idiot had his shit together and realised he's an idiot and what to fix, i mean 3/8ths of that post was solid and probably his best writing in years, notwithstanding the massive glaring error about Cormac McCarthy, he who is quite comfortable with good vs evil, he who probably votes Republican -- being pomo. I mean what the fuck is Republican pomo anyhow? What would that even be? The whole Republican thing is an infantile longing for order, not the postmodernist project of sewing disorder.

Notwithstanding how it annoys me that I'm an influence on the idiot, for it has never been about control and narcissism with me (the idiot only projected this upon me because that's how Trump is and that's how he, as Trump's cuck, is) I actually don't like influencing anybody, probably because I don't like myself very much and don't need to be seeing any more of myself in the world. It actually just grosses me out and depresses me to see anything inspired by me. 100% of the time I think art inspired by me sucks, and why wouldn't I? I don't even like any of my art. That's not a posture, kids. I can't think of a single thing I've ever written that I'd feel comfortable handing to anybody like it's any good. This isn't some noble thing, either. I just don't like it. I don't like the sound of anything I have made, pretty much. And why would I? Why would I when I was programmed by the parents and the community to know my total insignificance and still am despite occasional moments where they try to make me feel like I have some? The overwhelming --

But whatever, it doesn't really matter as I believe in the Sagan stuff about our insignificance anyhow, at the same time believing in the signficance of everyone and all the small things, which I then have to apply to myself, because leaving yourself out is not objective, and then when I extend that to myself, the whole thing blows up because the forces that drive me don't compute.

Now, there is a sewing of disorder in the Republican as it generates chaos trying to get what it wants -- 'divide and conquer' and i know some awful liberal-ish money conquest women who also think that way.

That's not the same thing tho. That's like, Papa Hemingway with a John Wayne streak.

I really will never quite understand why Harold Bloom hates Stephen King but wets himself for Blood Meridian. It's like a boring Stephen King novel. Sure, I guess it's more formally literary but also you know, more formally boring. The Judge -- I feel like Mike Judge would do better in a Beavis & Butthead film. But Mr. Bloom didn't really watch MTV.

Nope, kids, I just didn't get it. Usually Harold Bloom is somebody I agree with almost across the board, but I just don't get it. Perhaps it's a HETERONORMATIVE THING, much like Tarantino fanboys are.

anyhow i kinda feel bad for that idiot cuck having to find every sticker on the sticker sheet and apply it to itself because it's so typically american these days.

it's so... 'i'm every woman' only it's not succinct, it's just embarrassing, like these americans always trying to elbow on top of each other in their rat race in which they're always a tool, always a derivative, never truly the Boss that they want to be, for their is always a bigger boss, and the biggest boss is Trump.

rather than dabble and wander between the whole sticker set of crowns and swords and cups and pussy and cock, why not just grow a pair of balls and commit to something outré

i mean look at it this way: even somebody who committed wholeheartedly to the entire Princess sticker sheet is more of a man than some idiot who can't figure out which Lucky Charm he feels like today. oh, i remember that age well... sometimes i felt like blue diamons, other times green clovers... and always like green trees, limited.

and there's always man of them to eat again and again

but when i see like a Canadian trans woman commit wholeheartedly to being a 5-yr-old girl, now that takes balls. that takes courage.

you either want to muddy the waters to seem deep, like Nietzsche says, or you want to clarify something or choose a course.

nothing this idiot cuck ever does smacks of courage. it is courage free. they have some good ability to pay attention to television at times, for whatever that's worth. maybe they are best suited for television analysis for geeks into the details of television shows. it's very American, caring a lot about your shows and the details.

hey, credit where due, it's American but i sure don't have the patience to figure out every detail and quote about some crap on tv.

so, yes, there's a toddler with a sticker sheet who wants to be a princess, but a real princess would jump in all the way if she had some balls:

and let us not think this is about emasculation, it's about people who are trying to be a sticker sheet generalist and paste them all onto themselves willy nilly in ways that i only find tragicomic, camp and kitsch

for example why not choose this sticker sheet? the reason is because the idiot cuck has no balls

as a channel-surfer of nuclear suburbia, it's too much sustained focus for the cuck, who is used to using the clicker to go through all the shows... a masculinity crippled by tv, much like Rabbit Angstrom ended up at in middle age

being that i am FUCKING BORED with systemic cucks maybe they can work on that but i doubt they're capable of it any more than they're capable of buying me a steak because

what's a toddler in front of a tv gonna be capable of?

seriously tho who thinks this guy is PoMo at heart?

he's such a conservative western christcuck who is terrified by the pomo world he finds himself in. that's what The Road was all about, kiddos. That's what everything he writes seems to be about. I don't share his terror... I'm liberal and we're not as big of cowards. OH IS AMERICA GOING TO COLLAPSE I'M SO SCARED

"a comedown of revolving doors"

either you're a chickenshit male or you're a female with far more guts, apparently. Cormac was a chickenshit. Emily Haines was not.

yes, you know, the American conservative is correct here, more correct than Harold Bloom I think.

'conservative pessimism' is what Cormac is i suppose Harold could be described as a conservative pessimist

too -- even as Harold's politics were with the Democrats, certainly he was trying to conserve literature in a sort of you know, different form of conservation -- there's a big difference between a 'conservative' and a 'conservationist', kids.

slip in a little Jesus

i dunno kids, i think there's something that neurotically went wrong with Harold Bloom, maybe frustration with feminism and identity politics and anarchists and deviance, that made his brain glom on to McCarthy a bit too aggressively is my theory cuz it truly has long been probably the main thing about Bloom that i can't get on the same page with... McCarthy enthusiasm

but i was spoiled by all that Stephen King at a young age, you see, and Stephen is far more imaginative and dreamlike than some writer of a fuckin' dark western.

but even... i mean i'm sorry, where's the Literature in McCarthy? Bloom never really seems to explain it. he just goes on and on about the character the Judge and the foreboding and the collapse of western civ... i mean, whatever dude ya never seen those themes before? Themes and ideas aren't discussing the LITTY RAT TURD or whatever ghost in the machine where did it go, where's Cormac LITTY RAT TURD if that's what this is all about? I just did not quite pick up on it, mmkay?

As for that cuck who is incapable of being exactly what i say its incapable of

it should find a sticker set that isn't just the generic all-encompassing one the parents always hand to the kids

and have the balls to go for it

David Bowie committed to different ways of life -- different personas -- for long periods of time -- it wasn't a costume party you flip in and out of like Lady Gaga who didn't understand it, you know?

like, read a book on method acting

i've been through a lot of looks and places and focuses and lifestyles in a lightweight curious fashion, more of a discovery zone than a statement

do you really want to look back on how you played king or bro every other day for years i mean zzzzz what are you a conservative? are you Elvis? Because he played the king as often as you do, princess and he was a Republican.

Bowie played the Goblin King briefly and it was explictly an evil role, portraying royalism as the establishment to be defeated.

Meanwhile there's Gaga in a crown with her Bad Romance posse and fake druggy fake decadence (the counter of albums sold and the ensuing profits is the most honestly thing about that video and what it's all about) which is just pathetic, the garishness of proudly capitalistic -- as proudly capitalistic as Trump

establishmentarian re-enforcement of daddies who owned 24 hotels or whatever thanks Gaga blech

anyhow, any deviance would be a good idea rather than copping from my page and being YET ANOTHER AMERICAN THINKING IF THEY SHOULD DON THAT COWBOY HAT FOR POWER.

how many times on this blog now have i talked about how much this video pissed me off when 'Greater Albania' Bugs Bunny here gets her rodeo on

Dua Lipa is just more of this push for Warner Brothers to turn music into a Barbie product in the kids' bop aisle at Wal-Mart. Her lyrics don't even gel in this dumb song or her stuck up tone wrecks it... it comes across as totally fake and there being no real 'love' at all which is probably the truth, ain't it? But she sings the lie.

That White Town song she samples is better than her song, and i doubt Bugs Barbie or Lola Bunny Lips or whatever she goes by is capable of gender-bending.

This is what good music used to be, kids. Chaka Khan gets what adulthood is about -- it's not about rabbit tricks (which are rooted in retaliatory fear of being eradicated and then turn into aggro, which is a pervasive mentally unhealthy and effectually sociopathic and repetitively abusive cowardice and sickness in most americans, from Trump to Swift) and it's not about Trumpian conquest and taking.

[kankuroplease]

you have AUs? What kinda AUs??

I have my founders AU which is kind of large in terms characters some infighting in future between relatives because some of my followers went and shipped one sister with Tobirama and the other with Madara. Full of OCs ranging from an akatsuki member and one clueless daughter of Orochimaru ✨

I have my tattoo shop au that is centered around a tattoo shop ran by Kakashi in the Uchiha territory (featuring team 7). The Uchiha and Hyuga Yakuza families having a delicate peace agreement that more than a few people on both sides are ready to revoke at any given moment. Has KakaObiRin, ShiKagu, HashiMadaMito, MinaKushi, ShikaNaru (fwb), NejiTenMichiLee’s love square thing, FugaMiko, GaaSaku, SasuSaku (past tense), SaiIno, GenYam, ItaHana, HinaTone (who’s trying to convince Ko cuck him), KankuKibs, Gai’s dojo, kindergarten teacher Iruka, Naruto’s little sister, and Madara fucking half the population but being a decent-ish father to Obito, Shisui, and his three daughters.

Both of them have tags saved in my search options on here 🖤