#she isn’t drawn this rough looking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simpjaes · 3 months

Text

serial-sweetheart (s.jy & p.sh)

Dating the strict, well-liked, and loving Sunghoon 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, Jake, has a bit of a thing for you?

MDNI!!

WORDCOUNT― 23.6k

PAIRING― shy jake x afab reader | sunghoon x afab reader

CONTENT― sunghoon and reader are 24, jake is 21. boyfriend sunghoon, perverted/shy college boy jake, panty stealing, hidden intimacy, needy jake, dom-ish sunghoon in smaller/less detailed smut scenes, reader is definitely a switch depending on who she is looking at, uh, brief mention of heeseung raging at jake 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 your foot lmao, there are intimate things happening between reader and jake in like, almost every fuckin scene.

NOTE― if you’ve read this before, it’s because i wrote it for a different band on my other blog(@/ncteez). this is a revamp of that fic, freshly edited and updated.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― infidelity, rough sunghoon, jake 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 jake, 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, jake isn’t entirely subby when he finally gets his dick wet, penetration, pet names, sexting, g-spot stimulation, cream pie, unprotected sex,

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The two years you’ve spent so far with Sunghoon 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 weren’t for the fact that your eye is dangerously close to landing on someone else lately.

In your defense, your eyes didn’t linger before Jake, Sunghoon’s younger brother, moved in. You had no interest in anyone aside from Sunghoon but, Jake 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 Sunghoon 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 Jake 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, Sunghoon 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 Jake was in this house now too. You shot 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 laid there, first attempting to sleep but ultimately falling victim to the thoughts of what Jake 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. Jake knows how thin the walls are, you’re sure of it. Even you and Sunghoon have tried to be quieter so Jake 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 that night. You realized you wanted to watch him. You wanted to help him. And when Jake hit his high, you heard 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 and replaced with images of what position he could have been in for the bed to hit to wall like that. What was he doing?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Good morning, sunshine!” You sing out obnoxiously 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 Jake doing his thing again last night and it’s not something you’re proud of. So yeah, maybe Sunghoon gets breakfast every time his little brother jerks off, what of it?

“Thanks, babe,” Sunghoon 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.”

Sunghoon 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,” Sunghoon 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.

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

He lets out a small laugh, giving himself a gold star for making you cum 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–” Jake’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 Sunghoon 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 Jake’s words, and Sunghoon 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?” Jake protests, looking over Sunghoon's food and swiping a piece from his plate. “The semester hasn’t even started.”

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

“Fair,” Jake 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?”

Jake 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?” Sunghoon 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?” Jake asks, setting down his plate and taking a bite.

“Yeah, tell him what Wednesday is.” Sunghoon 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.”

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

Jake is just confused, clearly.

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

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

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

Jake can see the way Sunghoon 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 Sunghoon managed to have a girlfriend for this long with how much of a bore he can be at times.

Especially someone like you.

Jake 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 Sunghoon 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 Sunghoon is aware of.

You think that these thoughts and images of Jake swimming in your head are a phase. In fact, you hope they are. 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.

Jake isn’t there when you walk through your boyfriend’s door. Unfortunately, neither is Sunghoon.

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.

Sunghoon: 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

Sunghoon: 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 Sunghoon 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)

Sunghoon is great at texting you back too.

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

You: for 3 hours?

Sunghoon: yes???? or you can just go bug Jake lol

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

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

Sunghoon 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..

Sunghoon: 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 twists 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 Jake 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 Jake 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//

Sunghoon: plans?

You: better get done with work soon so can come home and see <3

With that, you set your phone down and reach for the remote.

Jake 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.

Even on your anniversary, you’re bored and you’ve got some hours to kill anyway. You sort through all sorts of images in your head. From what Jake 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 Jake 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 Sunghoon 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 Jake. Surely not. It’s just a fantasy and nothing more.

It will never be anything more.

Besides, Sunghoon 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 Sunghoon being insecure or lacking confidence in anything he does, but then there’s Jake. The little brother appears to live in the shadow of Sunghoon. From Jake attending college for the same thing to wanting the same woman that Sunghoon is in love with.

Now the thought of what Jake 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 Sunghoon? 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. Jake’s out getting tugged at by some girl, Sunghoon is at work being an obedient employee, and what are you doing? Sitting on the couch in a daze.

Glancing around a bit, you shake your head at a specific thought.

Jake’s room.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Against your better judgment and several hours on hand to spend, you find yourself in Jake’s room. Because of course you do.

You don’t know why your legs carry you here, but then again you kind of do. Curiosity. You don’t really plan on snooping or anything, you just kind of want to see how he lives when he’s by himself. You want to see if he made his bed or folded his clothes. 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 Jake’s room, monochrome colors of black and gray 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 Jake’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 Sunghoon’s place after staying the weekend, it’s not like you aren’t here multiple times a week or anything.

Jake 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 Sunghoon 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, Sunghoon 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 Jake because Sunghoon 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 Jake’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 Jake through his bedroom door as he’s in the middle of throwing himself against the bed in frustration. “Didn’t think you’d be here today?”

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

“Yeah, me either.” He groans, throwing his hand over his face. “You scared the fuck outta me–”

“Ah, you seem frustrated. Why?” You ask, taking a step forward and leaning against the doorframe to his room, crossing your arms. “Sunghoon said you were on a date or something?”

Jake groans again, lifting his back from the mattress to sit up and starts 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 our drinks. ”

“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’.” Jake 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’m miserable.” Jake 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?”

Jake freezes now too, glancing away from you with what you think is that shyness you’d seen so much before. It’s definitely shyness, if his quick-flushed cheeks are anything to go by.

For Jake, out of everything that’s just happened to him, 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. “Sunghoon 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.”

Jake 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 warn you of the panty thief.

“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, Jake is shuffling past you and rushing towards the laundry room. You follow behind him casually, not in the slightest bit of a hurry with a cheeky smile hidden from his view.

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

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

Jake is talking so fast that it’s almost sad. If you could pinch his flushed cheeks right now, you would.

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

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

Jake 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 Sunghoon’s drawer. Never will he let himself think that you found them, or even worse, Sunghoon found them.

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 Sunghoon needs to find a new favorite, huh?” You joke, tossing them onto Jake’s bed and walking away.

As you walk down the hallway with a smile on your face, you can hear Jake’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 with a deep swallow of nervousness, but you interrupt him.

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

“I know,” Jake 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, Jake.”

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

“Wait–”

Only now does Jake realize your comment of Sunghoon needing to find a new favorite pair of underwear before you tossed 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 Sunghoon, 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.”

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

“You don’t? Try and think of a reason then.” You ask, taking a step towards him.

You can see how that single step forward overwhelms him, so much so that he takes a 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 avoid your question.

“I don’t know why.” He repeats, 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 Sunghoon does to me too?”

Jake 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 Jake 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. It’s a horrifying thought.

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

Jake 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.

“Jake?” 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 be loud tonight.”

Jake 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 Sunghoon got home, Jake 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 Sunghoon came back.

Jake almost feels like prey right now, additionally, he’s confused about the entire situation with you.

He tried to be a good person and not fantasize about his brother’s girlfriend by making a profile on a dating app, 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 Sunghoon in the living room doing couple-things doesn’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 loud for him? Why did you do any of what you did?

It feels wrong that everything just makes 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 Sunghoon’s room and the giggles coming from both of you, Jake almost wants to hit someone. Why can’t he have that? Why does Sunghoon always get to experience all the good things in life?

Not only was Jake 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, 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 Sunghoon shush you a few times.

Unfortunately, against Jake’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. It’s instinctual at this point, despite how shameful he feels. He seriously just can’t resist touching himself when he hears you, even through the frustration and annoyance.

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 at the image, 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, you’re enjoying yourself far too much. Jake kind of falls into the back of your guilty mind as your boyfriend loves on you. Sunghoon 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, Sunghoon is 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 though, tonight is a little different considering it is the two-year anniversary of his relationship with you.

The plan you had for Sunghoon 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 is never willing to share you, and you don’t mind that at all. Still, you wanted to fulfill one of his fantasies, and that’s what the intention is.

To your surprise though, Sunghoon 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.

And when Sunghoon pulls his head back for a breath, he looks up at you and whispers a small “happy anniversary, baby–” before smiling in such a genuine way that it has your heart crashing with the amount of love you have for him.

He dips back in after the loving words, hugging both of your thighs with his arms and burying his face into you for another ten minutes before, well, he grows a bit bored. He wants to make you cum 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 is burning images in his mind the more he hears you moan for him.

“Changed my mind,” Sunghoon mutters as he pulls back for a breath and leaves your clit entirely abandoned.

He hears you whimper at the loss of pressure and honestly, he’s always loved the way you sound when you do it. He finds himself reaching for the toy much quicker than he originally planned, soothing you through your disappointment with a fond voice.

“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 Jake can hear his brother tell you to play with yourself makes him feel insane. Only because of the way you start moaning again and give him even more to think about while over here all alone.

Fuck, 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?

Jake almost wants to put his ear to the wall.

Wait, why shouldn’t he? 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 when he chokes back his own moan, knowing you’d probably hear it more clearly too considering how loud he is.

Knowing you can hear him though? That means Sunghoon can also hear him, so he tries his best to hold it back as he starts thrusting himself against the silk in his hand.

He does well until he hears a choked-out whimper, a slap, and some crude words coming from his brother’s lips. On any other day of listening in, his cock would instantly go soft hearing his brother but what he says to you through these thin as fuck walls has him biting his lip in an attempt to silence his own moan.

“You like being stuffed with two?” Jake hears at first, followed by another whimper from you. “So wet, it slid right in beside me–”

Jake 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–” Jake groans out towards himself, looking down at his painfully hard cock against your panties. Dripping, absolutely an utter fucking mess in his own palm over you.

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. He’s shamelessly out of breath when he whispers his own words to you as his cock begins to fucking weep his cum against your panties. Words of, ‘yeah, you like that?’ and “Better than him, right?”

And when Jake 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’s doing in here but now he can’t tell if you’re actually being loud because you told him you would, or if it’s because Sunghoon 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 Sunghoon. Except now you wonder how awkward it’s going to be. The soreness between your legs has gotten better but the guilt of how Jake avoided you the next morning got worse.

You went too far on your fucking anniversary then proceeded to fall even more in love with Sunghoon.

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 Jake alone and go back to what you were with Sunghoon before you ever fantasized about his little brother.

Except that doesn’t happen because the moment you walk in and see Jake lounging by himself on the couch, shirtless, you find yourself avoiding him more than he’s avoiding you.

Though he immediately got up when you walked through the door with a small apology and rushed towards his room, you had to stop yourself from turning around and going straight back home. Sunghoon is here though, back turned towards you as he stirs something in a bowl.

“Hey babe, can you come help me?” Your boyfriend calls out, 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 lends you a short nod in response, turning his attention back to his mixing bowl with a smile plastered across his face. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t miss you, honestly.

And as you make your way down the hallway to Sunghoon’s room, you note how Jake’s door is closed. You’re thankful for that, as the image of his stupidly attractive shirtless body still appears to be fucking burned into your brain.

It’s stupid, honestly, you have a whole Sunghoon in the kitchen waiting for you, who will probably make you cum 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.

Ridiculous.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

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 Jake in front of you at the table texting away on his phone.

You watch him shamelessly as Sunghoon goes back and forth in the kitchen. You’re almost completely skewed from his view, thanks to the wall separating the kitchen and dining room, as you sit here across from Jake. He’s wearing a shirt now, rude, and is only glancing at you from time to time.

He’s not saying a damn thing to you though, which is annoying.

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 instantly, pretending as if you weren’t kicking him to get his attention at all. All so you’re the one 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 Sunghoon clattering through the cupboards, and feeling incredibly warm sitting in front of Jake. You don’t know what’s gotten into you when it comes to him, honestly.

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 can 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 and silent, blinking back at you.

Maybe he’s being pulled in too, like a silent 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. Jake jumps again at the feeling and shoots his eyes to the opening of the kitchen.

Sunghoon is still facing away, stirring something in a pot on the stove. Thank fuck.

He’s not strong enough to push your foot away. In fact, he can hardly comprehend the situation at all, or why he presses his hips forward out of need rather than want. He knows it’s wrong to have you touching him in any way whether it’s your foot or not, this is not okay to be doing. But god, he yearns for you so badly. He’ll take anything, everything he can get.

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 that, and like you’re not keeping your foot in place for Jake to grind against.

The fact that he’s actually doing this at all 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 is a much better outcome compared to him rushing out of the room in a panic.

It doesn’t take long before you start giving more pressure against his weak grinds. Each time you glance up just to get a look at his poker-face, you can tell he’s looking at you in disbelief and shifting his eyes to keep checking for Sunghoon.

You can tell he grinds harder when Sunghoon isn’t at risk of seeing, and he moves more weakly when his alarm bells are ringing. If anything, the fact that Jake is falling apart in front of you and trying to pretend he isn’t is enough to have you pressing forward more.

You smirk as you scroll to watch another video, feeling his cock twitch 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 again, this time because you really can’t help yourself at this point, you note that Jake is really trying to concentrate on looking normal despite his body obviously shifting back and forth under the table.

He’s insanely obvious, and already it makes even you panic at the fact that he’s really losing his ability to remain calm.

“Jake, 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 back into an act.

“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 as quickly as you can.

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

Jake lets out a fake laugh at the video, shifting his eyes to you apologetically before seating himself back down and looking dead into your eyes.

There, he feels you adjust your foot again, this time further into his chair where you can blatantly feel how desperately hard he’s gotten over this.

Jake can’t just sit here and let this continue for too long, despite really, really fucking needing the touch. And it sucks, considering it’s the first time you’ve actually come onto him and it just has to be with Sunghoon barely even a room over?

God, fuck. Fuck!

Right here, right now, Jake decides he’s going to take what he can get, even if it makes you feel sorry for him.

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 makes it very obvious as to what he’s doing but still, you find yourself falling apart at the way he parts his lips, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to hold back a moan.

Then, 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.” Jake 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 Sunghoon 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.

Jake needed to like, not come in his pants from that. Not in front of you. Not in front of his own fucking brother.

He doesn’t even fucking like feet! But, well, 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. So, naturally, he ran 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 actually came in here to grab something.

Not even five minutes pass before he’s sitting in front of you again. Jake feels helpless in the way he can no longer bring himself to avoid looking at you, all the way up until Sunghoon 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 Jake 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 Sunghoon places a spoon at your lips and the soup is definitely the most delicious he’s ever made.

Even after he’s got his arm around you at the table with that same loving smile plastered on his lips, sitting across from his little brother who just eye fucked you while grinding against your foot, you struggle to decide who you’d rather look at.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The events of yesterday stay fresh on your mind as Sunghoon lays next to you half-awake and scratching against his arm before cuddling in closer to you. He’s 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, 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, Jake isn’t as present when you’re with Sunghoon 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 Sunghoon is enjoying the time he’s spending with you and Jake together.

Even during this movie, Sunghoon doesn’t think twice when you lean against him and throw your legs over Jake’s lap to get comfortable. Alternatively, Jake 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 Jake 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 Jake proves himself as someone with zero self-control once again.

You feel him twitch under your legs and shamefully, you immediately feel arousal drip between your legs. The fact that he gets you so riled up so fast will always be a mystery to you, honestly.

The good news? Being turned on isn’t so bad right now, considering you have Sunghoon right here to help you take care of it without much convincing.

Adjusting yourself, you pull your legs from Jake and take a second to focus on his lap. The tent in his pants is obvious, but Sunghoon pays no mind as his eyes stay on the screen. You watch the way Jake covers himself quickly and looks at you in confusion.

As he looks at you, you move a bit to look at Sunghoon.

Without warning, your boyfriend is thrown off guard by you suddenly kissing his neck. If Jake doesn’t have self-control, neither do you.

And in your defense, you’re not trying to dangle your relationship in front of him, really, you’re not. It’s not your fault that Jake got hard and that caused a chain reaction in getting you wet.

Sunghoon pulls back to look at you. His face is somewhat concerned but still, he’s smiling as he makes attempts to dodge your kisses.

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

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

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

“Okay, okay–” Sunghoon relents in another whisper, gently pulling himself from the couch and grabbing your hand.

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

“Uh, sure.” Jake responds, knowing full fucking well that you’re turned on because of him and now you’re gonna go fuck his brother to take care of it.

This is so annoying.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

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 Jake, but Sunghoon satiates you well enough. Even there against the bathroom wall as the two of you take a shower.

Sunghoon took note the night before that you enjoyed it when he humiliated you for doing those things in front of Jake. 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 Sunghoon, 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 Jake.

“Getting off on the thought of other people seeing how wet you get for me?”

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.

Jake, from across the hall, once again hears it all because it wakes him up. Sunghoon hasn’t even attempted to keep his voice down while talking to you. Why? Because even he is far too turned on to pay attention to anything outside of this bathroom right now.

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

Jake’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 Sunghoon.

Without much more thought, Jake 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 Jake 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 Sunghoon again, complaining that Friday never comes fast enough, you’re shocked to see that it’s Jake sending you something through instagram.

And he’s drunk.

SimJake_ sent a photo:

SimJake_: 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 Jake 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, Sunghoon is always around, so maybe that’s why he hasn’t done anything about it.

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?

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

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

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

SimJake_ : because i do

Wow, Jake is embarrassing 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

SimJake_ : am i being too weird?

SimJake_: because you’re the one who started it

You: me? I started it? last time i checked, you’re the one who stole my panties?? you pervert????

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

You: that’s……fair

SimJake_: 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?

SimJake_ : 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?

SimJake_ : yep

You laugh at the audacity, 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?

SimJake_ : because i want you

Oh.

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

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

SimJake_ : or we can pretend i never messaged 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?

SimJake_: yea

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

SimJake_ : yesterday

You: oh yeah?

SimJake_: yea i washed them when Sunghoon was at work…um

SimJake_: can you maybe wear them again

God, he really is that desperate.

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

You: i’ll think about it

SimJake_ : okay…so…

SimJake_: um….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

Jake 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.

SimJake_: 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?

SimJake_ : 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?

SimJake_ : maybe,,,,

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

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

SimJake_ : would you?

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

You: flustered now?

SimJake_ : yea, wanna see?

SimJake_ sent a photo:

You: jesus christ, you’re…

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

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

You: you looked hot when you did it tho

SimJake_ : am i really that big?

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

SimJake_: could have one ;)

You: ….yeah

SimJake_: yeah?

SimJake_ 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:

SimJake_ : oh fuck

SimJake_: you’re wet?

SimJake_: sorry i wasnt expecting that

SimJake_: can i save it

You: no

You sent a photo:

SimJake_: you should give me those panties instead

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

SimJake_: will you still wear the other ones too?

You: you want //two// pairs?

SimJake_ : yeah :(

You: ill think about it

Jake is blushing, flushing, and shaking all at once, one hand on his cock 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.

SimJake_ : can i call you?

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

You: okay…

You didn’t have to wait long, watching the bubble of him typing something to you disappear and instead getting a phone call. You knew Jake had your number and you had his, mostly for communication purposes for Sunghoon. 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.

Jake is shameless.

All those nights of hearing his mans muffled through the wall are 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. Jake 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.

“Feels 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, your panties are probably silencing what his hand is doing.

Jake barely answers. A quick “mhm” rings through your ears alongside his deep breaths as a response instead. This isn’t typically how phone sex would go, considering dirty talking is what gets a person there. Perhaps Jake has never done this before, then again, maybe he gets off on just knowing you’re listening to him at all.

“Can you–talk?” Jake 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 Jake 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.

“Sunghoon isn’t home right now,” Jake 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?” Jake asks with a hopeful voice, this time pulling his hand away completely and feeling his heart double in speed.

“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 Jake’s ears, he feels the eagerness in his body swell to the point that it’s difficult to maintain. Sunghoon has everything that Jake wants. A good career, a nice house, needed life skills. All of those things could be obtained with hard work and effort for Jake, but you. You were the one thing he was never supposed to have. You were the one aspect of Sunghoon’s life that Jake 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 Jake 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. So what if he he wants to fuck his big brother’s girlfriend? You reciprocate the fucking feeling.

A small part of Jake’s brain is still 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, Sunghoon is pushed to the back of his mind.

“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 are 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. Jake isn’t even talking much, just offering himself on a fucking platter to you, and it’s driving your body to fucking yearn.

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

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

“In my panties.”

Jake 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 dripping mess 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, Jake?” You ask in a breath, 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 cunt. 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 Jake 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 through this, he wants to hear just how fast your fingers are moving, how fast you’d want him to fuck you. 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 Jake, 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 fuck yourself. 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–”

Jake 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” at the sound of the shutter from his camera.

“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.

Jake 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, Jake is getting a part of you that only Sunghoon 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 Sunghoon’s house this weekend. You’ve already called out of work simply because you find yourself thinking of Jake 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.

Sunghoon would kill Jake if he found out, and you, what would he even do with you? Break up with you? Insult you?

Still, the thought of him finding out is the only reason you feel guilty. Because you still don’t regret showing Jake, 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. Jake wouldn’t tell on you because then, he would be telling on himself.

After all, he only moved in with Sunghoon 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. Sunghoon knew the pain of living there, and that’s why he accepted Jake with open arms.

Sunghoon was a good brother and an even better boyfriend. You and Jake on the other hand? Jake’s an awful brother and you’re an even worse girlfriend. Sunghoon doesn’t deserve any of this, and he doesn’t deserve any of what’s to come either. You’re in too deep with Jake now though, 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.

Jake had texted you at least three thousand times with apologies throughout the night and morning. 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 Sunghoon 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 Jake 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, Jake 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, these pictures of you are the truth of how you feel towards him though. At least last night, that’s how it was. So, when you never text him back today? He doesn’t think too hard about why despite his heart feeling shattered by it.

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.

Jake was once again lounging on the couch when you walked in and Sunghoon was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t texted you either. Awkwardly, Jake 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 Sunghoon 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–” Jake 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 Sunghoon’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 Jake, 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 Jake and you’re not upset about it. Jake assured you that Sunghoon didn’t find out, and the fact that Jake is the best source of finding out exactly what Sunghoon 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 Jake’s lower half bare. He really is huge, and it’s a shame, really, that you want it so badly.

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 Jake.

“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 Sunghoon later, the least you can do is let Jake 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 yourself? So deep that you’ll never be able to pull yourself from it? It’s laughable at how tiny of a worry that is in your mind when you know that Jake is seething in his bedroom right now.

Maybe it's just what Jake 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.

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

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

Opening his door without so much as a knock, Jake 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 Jake 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?

Why does that thought upset you?

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

“Busy getting laid, unlike you losers.” Jake 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 friends 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 Jake’s headset and speak in a tone that isn’t too common for you and he freezes.

“Now, hold on–” A 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 Jake’s got some girl in this city interested in him.

When Jake 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 Jake’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, Jake tries to turn towards you again.

“Stay,” You say. “And hush.” You lower his mic back 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.

Maybe not with you, but still.

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 the fantasies you assume he has. More turned on by the idea that Jake must want it so badly from you than admitting how badly you want it to be true.

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 Jake to see you. In fact, you want to see how badly he plates this game through this, because it’s not only cute but will actually be fucking hilarious. Especially because 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, 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 more hard at the fact that you’re in the room with him. Plus, for Jake at least, your used panties sitting right there only drives his cock further to pulse and beg for your hand.

“Jesus–” Jake groans when you grab him.

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

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

Jake 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 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 let his cock spring free.

You silently gasp noting how Jake is even bigger than the photos gave him credit for, thicker than you genuinely imagined now that you see it from over his shoulder. Jake 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 with a chuckle.

Gripping him again, Jake 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 desperately, thrusting his hips up harder. “Please, just don’t stop.”

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 sheer amount of pre-cum spilling out of him

“Alright, Jakey.” You soothe, 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 Jake 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.

“God,” Jake 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. Jake’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 essentially drenching your palm, the slide of your hand keeps a fast pace, pulling groans out of him every few seconds.

Jake 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 falls into the floor. He lols his head from side to side as he finally lets out a full-throated 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 each moan that threatens to be too loud, and honestly, you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He goes from releasing your hand just to stare down at the way you grip him, to grabbing it again and fucking into it harder.

It’s way too endearing seeing him like this.

He tries to turn to see you again shortly after, so desperate to kiss you, so desperate just to fucking see what you like like when you’re doing this to him, 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.” Jake writhes 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 Jake 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, Jakey?”

He softly moans at the nickname you’ve now used more than once, 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.

“Wanna see me so bad, huh?” You chuckle, working him up and knowing that he’s got to be close with the way he 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?”

Jake 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. “Give it to me.”

Jake’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,” Jake comments with a deep breath, and only then do you realize the small moan you’d let out during that intense thought of him. Especially as you watch his cum is spill out in loads, leaving a mess all over himself and your hands.

Finally, after making a mess of him, you smile to yourself and do your best to appear not as flustered as you actually are.

Either way, 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. Jake must feel on top of the world right now, because you know that you do.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon comes home later than he did last time, tired and droopy. He finds himself drawn to you more than usual, noting that your eyes are sparkling a little brighter upon walking through his door.

You put Jake in the back of your head much like you always tried to do when Sunghoon is 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 Jake having to see it. Jake should know who it is you love, despite the fact that you jerked him off mere hours ago.

When Sunghoon 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 Sunghoon 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 Sunghoon can’t even see the bottom where Jake’s got his hands on you.

Fully intending to keep them both, you find yourself feeling more fulfilled despite the awful moral. Sunghoon isn’t willing to share, but Jake is.

And you, you don’t have to share.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Saturday was as normal as always. Jake pops in and out of his room, not even once acting as if something suspicious is going on. If anything, Sunghoon is a little more happy to see you spend time with Jake when he’s not in his room.

It was awkward at first. Jake’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 Sunghoon. He’s endeared by the way you bully his brother the same way he does.

Even that little crush Jake had on you when he first met you appears to have fallen into more of a sibling-like relationship to Sunghoon. He thought it was cute that Jake had a crush, after all, it’s you. Sunghoon 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, Sunghoon knew Jake 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 Jake jumps up to go be a recluse in his room from time to time.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Jake,” Heeseung grits through the mic.

“What?” Jake sighs nonchalantly, throwing his arms behind his head as he smiles to himself through the webcam.

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

“I muted him.” Jay says with a shrug through his own camera..

“Yeah, me too.” Jungwon follows up, all eyes now falling to Heeseung, who is avoiding the camera and scratching the back of his neck with a shrug.

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

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

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

Instead, Jake 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.” Jake explains, receiving a nod from everyone.

“She left her panties,” Jake now adds in a cheeky voice, removing his hands from behind his head and sitting up from his relaxed position. “Wanna see?”

Heeseung was, obviously, the first to nod his head and Jake 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,” Jay laughs as he sees the thin fabric come into view. “Are they dirty?”

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

“That’s so gross.” Heeseung waves them off, averting his eyes and trying to pretend he’s not interested.

“Jake’s full of shit.” Jungwon chimes in quickly, only to be shut down by Heeseung’s weird need to defend.

“You heard her talk to him through the mic, there’s no way he’s lying.”

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

“Well, I lied, I didn’t mute him.” Jungwon finally admits. “Still, though. There’s no way she gave you those.”

Jake 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 Jake through the walls the night before but Sunghoon sure did. He mostly drowned out the sounds by putting in his headphones though, unlike what you would have done. Sunghoon 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. Sunghoon knows you love being woken up this way, but he also knows to stop if you’re making a sound like this over it.

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

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 Jake 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 Sunghoon’s bones.

“Head is pounding.”

“Ah,” Sunghoon 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 Sunghoon 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 Jake’s bedroom door is open but he isn’t anywhere to be found.

“Where’s Jake?” 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 Heeseung.”

Your heart starts beating in your ears at the thought that you really thought Sunghoon wouldn’t know any of Jake’s friends. Sure, you thought that maybe they were just online friends, or maybe people Jake met after Sunghoon 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 Jake 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? What lousy luck.”

“It’s okay, really.” Sunghoon 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 Jake 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 Jake.

“I mean, I personally am not into this type of thing. It’s a little uncomfortable for me.” Sunghoon 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 Jake’s blatant lies towards Sunghoon.

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

In Sunghoon’s head, he’s mature enough to discuss it like an adult with his brother. Guidelines and rules, moving Jake in wasn’t going to change his sex life with you, if anything, he had already told Jake to invest in some decent headphones or earplugs because he’s gonna hear some shit otherwise.

You allow the conversation to die as you work up an appetite. Thankfully Sunghoon is 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 Sunghoon knows the friends that heard you be intimate with Jake. 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 Jake is around or texting you, it’s hard to think straight because you genuinely want him so fucking bad. And when Sunghoon is beside you, or texting you, all you can do is imagine a future with him.

The once bright, clear future of Sunghoon in a tuxedo standing in front of you at some extravagant altar becomes a little more foggy at the thought of where Jake would fit into it. Would he be behind Sunghoon, 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 Sunghoon and the way he trusts you fully. You never once gave him a reason to not trust you, and you think maybe Jake hasn’t given him a reason either.

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 Sunghoon and sneaking Jake out of your bed when Sunghoon returns from work. Even more scenarios of Sunghoon 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 Jake but you see Sunghoon’s name on the screen. You still feel just as excited though.

Sunghoon: good news and great news

You: oh?

Sunghoon: Good news: a 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 Sunghoon quickly texts again.

Sunghoon: 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.

Sunghoon: I leave tomorrow if I accept.

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

Sunghoon: 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.

Sunghoon: 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!! you should have immediately said yes! I’ll be over tonight, i’m proud of you babe!

Sunghoon: love you :)

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 Sunghoon 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 Jake phase. By using Jake. By fucking him, specifically.

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

Jake: Sunghoon’s leaving for 3 days

You: yep

Jake: ….do i even need to say it

You: nope

Jake: gonna clean my room

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Dropping Sunghoon off is weirdly bitter sweet. His confidence is clearly through the roof as he kisses you goodbye. Even after he walks away, he quickly rushes back to you and asks for a second kiss, citing it’s for good luck. You knew he’d do amazing for this event, even with it so last minute. Everything Sunghoon did was with effort and thought put into it. You’re not the only person who sees it either.

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 Sunghoon is walking off to get on an airplane and Jake 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 Sunghoon isn’t around to nearly witness the infidelity? Shaking yourself of disgust, you head out of the airport and still find yourself pulling into Sunghoon’s driveway against your better judgement.

You sit in your car for a moment, thinking back on all of those small moments with Jake, wondering now if you still want him or if those moments were enough to satisfy the curiosity of what could be.

As expected, with a huff, you accept the fact that 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, especially with the fact that you can hear your heart skip beats and your body melt away into the hole you fucking dug for yourself. However, the moment Jake opens the door and looks at you, before you can even unlock it yourself, every single guilt ridden thought disappears.

Before, Jake 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 Jake, 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, Sunghoon is drowned out in the back of your mind, as usual when you find yourself alone with Jake.

Jake 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 Sunghoon sent before he ever met you.

On cloud nine, Jake is timid when he, for the first time, makes a move on you himself. It’s shocking that he does it at all if you’re being honest, but you lean into him on instinct. All he does is grab your hand, a touch that wouldn’t raise suspicions at all in Sunghoon 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 word is said, everything already spoken and understood with nothing more than the look when he opened that fucking door. Jake leads you to his room, and the energy in the air is so electrifying that 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 Jake realizes what he could get away with. You’re falling into the same mindset you have with Sunghoon, one where you want, need, and could beg to be touched, but you still yourself from falling too far into it.

Jake 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.

Jake 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 already. Even you, shamelessly wearing a dress with no panties. Sunghoon 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 Jake could hear it, and he didn’t appear to care because in all fairness, Jake did not give a damn. 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 Jake 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. Well, you knew he was taller than you, but at this moment he seems so much bigger than usual.

His breathing is uneven as he stares at your lips 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,” Jake whispers out, inches from your face. “This is going to be embarrassing for me.”

“Don’t hold back.” 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 is more bruising than you think he intended them to be, but the desperate feeling was all the same as your own, you think. Never have you actually stopped to think of kissing him or how he would go about it. Like running in blind, you’re learning that Jake knows what to do with his tongue, how to pace himself despite not wanting to, and how to reach up and hold your face in such a way that you feel like this could very well be a dream.

A perfect dream.

His hands are cupping your face though, you can feel the way his fingertips press into your cheeks as he makes his attempts to deepen the kiss. And fuck, he’s 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 lick into to kiss, all the way until he falls back on his bed with a happy and dazed ‘oof’ sound.

Still, his face is slack as he stares up at you, 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 do you want to see him shirtless again, and 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 come 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–” You smile, standing in front of him and trying to keep your eyes averted from his length threatening to break through his pants.

“Yes, god, let me see it.” Jake 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.

Jake 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.

“Oh god,” Jake 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 on his lap. 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 Sunghoon gets to see it whenever he fucking wants to.

“I can feel it–” Jake chokes back in a happy groan, referring to your slick 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 pussy 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 folds.

“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 already so wet?” He questions in a groan, still trying to process the fact that this is actually happening. His grip on you loosens, letting you move and instead grabbing the hem of your dress himself and holding it up so he can watch you slide against him better.

“How are you so big?” You try to compliment back, 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.

Jake 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 suddenly, out of breath. “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 jiggle 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, Jakey.” You finally say, frustrated that clothing always gets in the way of things.

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,” Jake whines, pushing your hips against him and keeping himself upright so that your tits are pressed right up against his own, careful not to fall back against the mattress so he can plant his lips against your neck. “Oh my god, you have no idea.”

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

“Don’t–” You scold him, and he simply nods and goes back to kissing against your neck and shoulder, because if that’s the only thing he can’t do in this situation, he’d be a damn idiot to argue with you about it.

“Right, wouldn’t want him knowing that I got you this wet, right?” Jake mocks the situation as a whole as his confidence blooms, using reality as a form of ego boost, hoping to god that you lean into it rather than run from it. “He’d know I do it better.”

It makes you a little angry, but you get it. Jake’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 at a time like this.

“Prove it and maybe I’ll play along.” You try to challenge him, but you know that he might actually be right.

His size rivals his brother’s, but can he work it the same way? Can the shy, timid little brother actually satisfy you the way your boyfriend does?

Jake 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 lend a pause, staring at him for a moment. Looking straight into his eyes and recognizing that for the first time in over two years now, you’re about to fuck someone that isn’t Sunghoon.

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 so desperately that any doubt in your mind withers away with all that guilt you know you shouldn’t be ignoring.

Continuously as you sink down inch by inch, feeling him stretch you out in a searing type of pleasure, Jake just groans into your mouth with wet kisses. 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 without giving you any time to adjust. 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.

Jake holds you there for at least a full minute, 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 cumming too quickly forces him to slow his movements and open his eyes in a breathy moan.

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

Jake looks at you lovingly, wishing so badly that his brother wasn’t in the way of having this all the time. And then? his arms release you and he’s lifting your face with one of his hands, thumb and pointer finger pinching your chin.

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

“Sorry, I just–” He says before getting a look at your face. Glancing between both of your empty eyes, 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 start to grind yourself against him. Chasing the pressure he was just slamming into you.

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

Despite that Jake 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, Jake 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 into the big spoon position and pulling your leg up to drape 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. So fucking in love.

He makes quick work to stuff you again and smiles at the way you throw your head back, opening your pretty and glistening eyes just for a split second to look at him.

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

“That’s right,” He boasts, trying his best not to drool as your droopy eyes struggle to stay on him for too long. “Look at me.”

“Damn, Jake,” You manage to say in an aroused laugh, 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.

Paired with his words? Goddamn.

“Hm?” He hums against your shoulder once he lays his head there, feeling your body jerk as he fucks his length into you repeatedly. “Feels good?” 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 hip. 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 if your sounds are anything to go by? He can say that it’s absolutely fucking true.

This time, when you reach back and pull his face to yours, now kissing him with more force than you have before, he loses composure again. Any chance of his focus being on you and you alone is now long fucking gone, baby.

Even as he tries to put his fingers against your clit again, the movements are messy, messy, messy. Thankfully, his hips are fucking you with full intent now. He’s trying his best to control how good he feels so that way he can at least try to focus on your pleasure more, but god, fuck.

After one particularly deep thrust, you shiver and he fucking loses it.

“Oh my god, I found it?” He asks, experimentally pressing his hips up the same way. “Right here? Baby, yeah?” He continues, repeatedly slamming you with the head of his cock bumping just where you need it.

“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. “Ahh- Jake, don’t stop!” You frantically encourage him, mouth falling slack against his lips now, giving in to the pleasure and now losing all ability to speak at all.

He does, pressing his hips harder this time, a grunt spilling from his bitten lips with every forceful thrust. Repeatedly hitting the soft spot inside of you, over and over again, ultimately sending you into a world of something you’ve, strangely, never felt before in terms of sex.

Jake 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. He’s determined to make you cum, 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 about 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 messily 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 event the smallest moment of collecting yourself.

“Ah, you’re squeezing me–” He breathes out, words broken with his own moans as he does his best to keep pace to work you through it. “So tight–” He manages to breathe out again, not yet realizing that you’re quite literally about to cum all over him.

And you want to. So you fucking do. You cum hard around him, clenching him so tightly that Jake 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. “Are you–?” 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. “Feels so good, just–” You cry out, pressing yourself back and enveloping the inches of him that he had pulled from you. “I wanna feel it.”

For a brief moment you remembered when he released from your hand, pressing himself slowly and roughly into your first.

You were right.

Jake 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 cum inside of you. Like really feel it. Every fucking pulse of it.

Unfortunately, just like that, you feel empty with how fast he pulls out of you. You’re in shock, actually.

“Where are you going?” You ask in a cracked and panicked voice, looking behind you as he backs away from you momentarily.

“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 trying to steady his breath from the orgasm he had ten seconds ago.

Instantly, Jake found himself in a post-nut state of guilt and kind of scared of how much he adored fucking 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 Jake. “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.

“Jake, 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 Sunghoon with him.

“Ugh,” Jake 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 we never talk about it…,”

“No, no! I wouldn’t.” Jake throws his hands up defensively. “I only feel bad when you’re not here.” He says, now 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 Jake into a fire that you both fucking searched for is kind of…scary? But also elating?

“Well, I’m not gonna fucking tell him.” You say, pressing the important matter at hand. “The point is, Jake, 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.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #park sunghoon smut #jake smut #sunghoon smut #jake sim smut #enha smut

2K notes · View notes

periprose · 1 year

Text

Arachnid Anxiety

You're Spider-Woman, and you've been tasked with babysitting Mayday. Maybe you have a bit of stress that you need to vent about, and Hobie comes along quite conveniently for that purpose.

Genre: Fluff, reader having anxiety, Hobie giving her advice, very cute, reader is a Jessica Drew variant, perhaps mutual pining if you squint, takes place during the movie but before Miles arrives to the Society, terrible british slang attempts (sorry Hobie :'))

Word Count: 2.4k

Babies are hard to wrangle when they’re crawling up walls.

Of course, Peter B. Parker said that he needs a nap, just this once, and he needs someone to watch over Mayday while he sneaks away into the sleeping pods in the Spider-Society-System. Sometimes he and MJ don’t get sleep for days at a time, so you get it.

But Mayday is so curious, and you find yourself having to pull her prying hands away before she inadvertently tampers with things around Miguel’s labs and causes either a mass outage or a explosion or Miguel’s wrath. You understand why Peter is a little exhausted.

She’s a very cute baby, though, and you can’t help but coo at her as she clambers off the wall into your arms.

“Who’s a good Spidey? Who’s gonna be the best of us?” You shake her up and down and she giggles, wrapping her arms around you.

You instinctively flinch, feeling your Spider-Sense go off.

“Large statement to make. But I see where you’re coming from.” Spider-Punk comes up from behind you, and you turn to him. “She’s definitely punk.”

“Hey, don’t go claiming someone else’s kid as one of your own.” You joke, and Hobie scowls as he pulls off his mask.

“Don’t believe in claims. Or labels, for that matter.” He scratches his hair, looking effortless as he ever does, and you roll your eyes. “She is… who she is. Forgive me for using a descriptive word, Spider-Woman.”

“I get it.” You hold Mayday as she squeals at the sight of Hobie, and she motions in an uppy-uppy motion. She wants to be held by him, but he ignores her.

You never quite know how to feel about Hobie Brown. The Amazing Spider-Punk is revolutionary, known for being better than just his words– he holds himself to the very essence of anarchy. He practices what he preaches.

But you can’t quite get a read on the guy. You don’t know if he’s pulling your leg– or taking the piss as he would say– when he gives his bouts of advice while somehow simply being amazing through it all. He somehow knows what to say but he also isn’t the most comforting, and that in itself makes you drawn to him. He just happens to be kind of rough around the edges, and it’s because of that you know he truly means what he says.

No sugar-coating, ever.

But you hate yourself, because you’ve somehow managed to fall for him.

It’s not uncommon for Spideys to fall for each other. Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy. But you know this is the one time it just wouldn’t end well for you.

You can already hear Hobie’s comments if he ever found out. He’d probably rebuke you even though you’d never try anything. Tell you he doesn’t feel that way and you’re delusional for potentially thinking that he would ever tie himself down. Spiders are meant to be swinging free and all that.

Even worse, he just happens to be beautiful. You’re positive that if Hobie wasn’t so anti-everything he would have stuck with being a runway model. His face is molded in a distinctive way that has you trying to catch his glance, even if he only looks at you with nonchalance, completely unbothered, not a hint of chemistry in his eyes.

It is with great displeasure that you find yourself wanting his bored attention anyways.

And so you’ve been swallowing your crush for the greater part of a year now. You’re sure it will pass like all things do.

Pavitr, as much as you love him, has told you many times about the “chemistry” between you and Hobie– and you have told him every time to fuck off. Not in an actual harsh way, because again you can’t help but love the guy, but because you don’t need false hope.

You’re just Spider-Woman. Another red-and-yellow suited variant of Jessica Drew, you might as well just be another Peter Parker. You know that’s not how you’re supposed to think of yourself, but it’s just how it is. Canon events brought you here, and according to Miguel, it’s not something you chose– you just happened to be there at the right time and place. You’re no Jess, who comes in on her motorcycle, raging heat and excitement on her toes– you are one of the many, instead of being exceptional like the few.

You’re not like Hobie, who is as far as you know, one of a kind.

“What’s on your mind, Spider-Woman?” Hobie asks as he picks through random tech on the desk in Miguel’s lab, taking what he feels is useful for whatever it is he does with the stuff. He’s never used your name, because he doesn’t know it.

You and a few other Spider-People have chosen to stay anonymous, for different reasons, and only Miguel and Margo know who you really are. Hobie has told you before that that’s pretty cool– he only chose to give up his name because it was easier to get along with people that way. Hobie knows there’s power in people.

“Just babysitting. Obviously.” You motion to Mayday, who takes this moment to thwip out a web and swing away from you– but you’re faster and you grab her back into your arms, and she pouts.

“Nah, nah. I mean that sour expression upon your lovely little visage, imbecile.” He pokes your masked cheek, and you find yourself blushing but pulling away from him. Hobie is like that– overly familiar and no real sense of space because he doesn’t care.

“It’s not lovely.” You retort, fully convinced of it because he has never seen your face, only your incredulous expression through the eyes of your mask.

You think that Hobie is again being sarcastic about your unknown appearance, and because his back is facing yours as he searches through random shelves now, you don’t catch how his face frowns at your response.

“Disagreements about your anonymous-but-surely beautiful face aside– not that looks matter, mind you– you’re clearly miffed about something.” Hobie turns and crosses his arms, and it’s with a little embarrassment and comfort that you want his advice. Even if it’s kind of to do with him.

“Well, I guess, uh… lately I’ve just been feeling kind of down. Like what’s the point of all this?” You bite your lip, knowing Hobie’s feelings on nihilism. “I don’t mean like nothing in life matters, Hobie. I mean more that I don’t matt– I don’t… anyways, I feel useless. I don’t have anything special about me, I don’t really bring anything to the Spider-Society that wasn’t already brought.”

"Whoa whoa whoa. Nah, lady, you've got your priorities all twisted." Hobie pulls your arms, bringing you kind of closer to him, and rests his hands on your shoulders, making you listen. "This inner hatred stuff– that sick urge to feel shame and then blast it inside of yourself, all that repression, yeah? It's a crock of shit."

"Huh?" You and Mayday both peer up at him. You behind your mask, and she with her crocheted one.

Hobie picks up Mayday, finally giving into her wishes to be held by him, and she immediately giggles. There’s a subtle smile on his face that warms him to you a little.

"It might feel good in the moment. It might even feel revolutionary." Hobie scowls, and scratches his jaw. "It's worthless. Notice, Spider, I didn't call you worthless. The very action is garbage, a visceral thing that brings no productive value– that's what they want you to feel."

"Ah, because then I'll never fight against the establishment, right, Hobie? I'll be too busy fighting myself." You say mockingly, taking on a fake-pretentious-Cockney accent, mimicking him, but Hobie gives you a chill look and nods.

"Now you're getting it."

"Aw." You slump and slouch and sit on the counter full of gadgets and gizmos next to him. "I know you're right, but… don't you ever get people getting mad at you?"

"You've lost me."

"Like… being so responsible." You roll your eyes as Hobie snickers and whispers the spider-mantra you all know so well. "Or just living by your own ideology so… efficiently. It's almost like a slap in the face to the rest of us Spiders. We don’t know how to cope, and here comes along Spider-Punk with all his personal assurance that even if things aren't alright, he'll make it alright for himself."

"Oi, trust me, it wasn't all that easy." Hobie sniffs and sits down next to you, holding Mayday close and then letting her go as she crawls onto the wall in front of you. "You really think I haven't had a bad day? I haven’t had my moments of self doubt, huh?”

“Uh… well. When you put it like that, it does sound kind of crazy.” You admit, and nudge him with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean any harm, Hobie. I just feel so… inadequate.”

“Just stop.” He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and you feel that yet again, he’s somewhat unreadable. “Don’t think those things. You’re not inadequate.”

“But I–”

“Stop.” He grasps your hands, and squeezes them tightly in his own, and you wonder if Hobie has ever looked this seriously at you, his eyes soft yet firm with affection.

You’re in trouble, you think. Your heart is pounding and you’re really glad he can’t see your face.

“I don’t think you know how important you are.” He utters so quietly, in that very deep voice that has you leaning in to hear him better. “You’re not nothing, Spider-Woman. You’ve done a lot of good for your Earth-257, I’m sure, and that makes you something special. Like the rest of us– you’re kind of irreplaceable, right?”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess.’” Hobie punches the side of your arm and you pretend to say ow, laughing a little. “If you didn’t exist, we’d all be poorer for it. Peter couldn’t ask you to chill with his baby, and I couldn’t be here talking your ear off.”

“But I’m not– I don’t really compare to her, you know?” You say without thinking, and then immediately squint at your own stupidity.

“Who’s her?” Hobie is wary of how your expression is shifting. “Stacy?”

“Uh, no.” You inhale, exhale, and then decide it’s time to get it over with. “Jess.”

“Jess? Jessica Drew, huh?” Hobie smirks a little. “You don’t want to be adopted by her, do you?”

“More complicated than Gwen’s weird fantasy.” You shift on your spot on the counter, and pull off your mask after a minute of tribulations. “I’m… also Jessica Drew.”

You feel incredibly shy as Hobie takes in your face, wary of his every move as you feel yourself sweating, and he grasps your face gently, peering into your eyes and taking a look at your features, as if he’s really trying to remember them.

“Huh.”

“What is it?” You say a little too defensively, and he shrugs.

“You do have a lovely visage, you silly little sod. Even if it’s completely different from Jess’ face.” He laughs as you shove him away, covering your face in your hands. “No, don’t do that.”

He’s tracing your jaw, and he murmurs. “Maybe you could use a few piercings… a tat or two… ever thought about it?”

“No.” You shut your eyes. “I’m not cool like you.”

“Oh, shut it.” He leans in imperceptibly closer, and you blink, eyes open. Maybe Pavitr had a point that Hobie and you have something, because there’s not really another explanation for that look in his eyes. “You’re plenty cool, Jessica Drew. It was just a shit suggestion of mine.”

You think Hobart “Hobie” Brown is sweeter than you previously thought. You have half a mind to tell him about your feelings.

You and Hobie both look up, Spider-Senses tingling, and sure enough, Mayday is cooing from the ceiling– she leaps into your already waiting arms. She giggles at your expression.

Oh well, you think. There’ll be some other time to work up the courage to tell him.

Hobie half-smirks at her. “Way to interrupt us, Mayday.”

She looks at him all confused, tilting her head in a “huh?” motion, and you feel the same way, not entirely sure what Hobie meant by that and not willing to assume either.

He answers you by pulling your face in a sudden, swift motion, connecting his lips to yours, and in between the two of you, Mayday shrieks and laughs. She crawls off to the side of you, no longer smothered between your torsos.

Hobie is weirdly insistent– you feel like he’s been wanting to do this for a while, maybe longer than the length of your conversation (you don’t know if this is just a funny little fling for him, but you’re fairly sure it isn’t) and he’s a lot taller and lankier than you, so he really has to tower over you to reach your mouth better. He’s grasping your jaw and neck and the back of your head with a lot of intensity– you feel wildly dizzy when he pulls away.

“Uh.” Peter B. Parker is standing in front of you both, mouth wide open, and you look back at Hobie and he grins rather coolly, not really giving a damn. It’s enough to make you snort. “Wait, who are you?”

“Oh. Spider-Woman from Earth 257.” You remember Peter has never seen your face, either. “Jessica Drew?”

“Right, right.” Peter raises his hands in a whoop-de-doo motion, like he should’ve known that. “Nice to know what you look like behind the mask. Not nice to know that you’ve been avoiding your babysitting duties. Why are you two fooling around like prepubescent children? What happened to responsibility?”

“Ahhhhh, please, Peter. Live a little.” Hobie stands up, his full length of height drawing him to about the same height as Peter if not an inch taller. He picks up Mayday and hands her off to him. “Let’s not act as if you and MJ weren’t shacking up in the sleeping pods last week, yeah? Does Miguel need to know about how irresponsible you were?”

You think he’s kidding, but Peter pales and you clap your hands over your mouth, trying not to laugh. Miguel would absolutely throw a fit if he found that out.

“Uh…” Peter swallows. “At least that’s not an interdimensional tragedy-in-the-making like you two.”

“There’s no rules against that, I don’t think.” Hobie shrugs. “And if there are, fuck them. Miguel doesn’t know it all.”

“He really is punk to the very end.” Peter groans and leaves out to the hallway with Mayday.

Hobie flashes a smile at you as he sits back down, ruffling your hair.

3K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 4 days

Note

Hii! I love your fics so much and I was wonder if you could do a emt marauders fix where the reader gets a concussion? I just got another one and it’s really taken a toll on me. (Again, I love your work SO MUCH!! It’s so comforting!!)

Hi my sweetheart! I'm so sorry, I swear I highlighted emt marauders when I was writing this request but somehow along the way I seemed to forget that it was supposed to be the au, I hope this is still alright (I'm very down to do another for emt specifically if you would like)! And I really hope you're doing okay!! Concussions are so rough, I hope your recovery is going well <3

cw: concussion

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius wakes to shushing sounds from down the hall. Bright sunlight has snuck in through the cracks in the blinds, laying itself down in slats across the bed. He’s laying nearly sideways with no one else to shove him away, one of his feet dangling off the side of the mattress and his head on the opposite pillow.

He gets up though his body doesn’t want to, following hushed voices into the living room. The curtains are drawn closed here, too, though it’s light enough for Sirius to make you both out clearly, you sitting on the couch and Remus with your hands in his, speaking to you in a hushed voice while slow tears dribble off your chin.

“Hey.” Sirius’ voice betrays his lethargy, but you don’t seem to notice. You look up with shiny eyes as he steps into the room. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

The answer takes time to come to you. Sirius isn’t sure if you’re searching for the words or if your thoughts are just evading you as they have been since you got hurt, but his heart twinges when your brows bunch in concentration.

Remus only looks at you steadily. He’s been the most patient with you; Sirius and James both have the urge to guess at the ends to your sentences when you get stuck, but Remus only waits, letting you parse it out in your own time.

“I’m sad. Frustrated,” you decide, though you look more glum than angry. You sniff. “I want to be better already.”

Sirius nods in both understanding and sympathy, going to sit behind you on the couch. He knows Remus isn’t the most tactile, but it kills him to see you with your shoulders shaking and no arms wrapped around them. He’s quick to remedy this.

“We were playing cards,” Remus explains in his quiet way (a way Sirius has been trying to mimic to accommodate your sound sensitivity, though it doesn’t come easily to him), “and she just got a bit upset when she didn’t remember whether aces were high or low.”

Sirius tsks, nosing at your cheek. “That’s common enough, darling. It can go either way.”

“That’s what I said,” Remus tells him. His thumbs carve twin paths up the sides of your palms. “It hardly matters, I’m happy to play with them high or low.”

“I just wish I knew like usual,” you say, though you already seem to be calming. Your voice has taken on that distant quality again. It still sounds like you, just a tad dazed, like when you first wake up in the mornings.

Sirius rubs up and down your shoulder, pressing his lips to the side of your chin. He can’t imagine it’s comfortable, feeling so unlike yourself. Worse to know it’s not changing soon. You hit your head a few days ago, and it’ll probably be some time until you feel completely normal again.

Sirius has been told he can be dramatic, but when you’d fallen he honestly thought for a second that you were dead, you were so still. In the pandemonium of sirens and doctors and waiting rooms that had followed, James and Remus had each taken a bit of time to process things, get their emotions in order, but Sirius has never been able to cry in public. When they finally got to take you home, he’d gotten in the shower and cried so hard he thought he’d throw up. He’s honestly not sure if he’s ever been so terrified in his life. After you got into bed that night he’d hugged you so hard you’d called him James, and your boyfriends had all laughed before they realized you weren’t joking.

He and Remus hold you in silence for some time. None of you seem to mind. Sirius is still too sleepy to get bored, you’re presumably too concussed, and Remus is still Remus. He can look at the two of you all day and never need a diversion.

The room seems to come alive when James gets home, not only because of his sparkling personality but also because he lets in a bunch of sunlight and a cacophony of street noise with him.

“Hello, my loves,” he says, adjusting his volume halfway through the sentence. He shuts the door behind him with care, dropping his rugby bag onto the floor with far less. “How are we doing?”

“I’m doing horrible,” Sirius says, though it’s obvious he was really only asking about you. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet today.”

“You have just woken up,” Remus points out with a droll look, but James indulges him.

He sets a big hand on Sirius’ head and kisses between his own fingers. He smells like dirt and sweat, gross on anyone else but hot when it’s him. James gives you the same treatment next, palm stroking down the back of your head protectively.

“You alright, lovie?” he murmurs.

You hum. “Why?”

“Nothing.” His eyes slide to Sirius, a question in them. “You look as though you might’ve had a cry, that’s all.”

“Water under the bridge,” Sirius assures him, giving you a firm squeeze. “We’re all good now, just very hungry and in need of someone to make sandwiches for lunch. Right, baby?”

You nod amenably, but Remus fixes you with a curious look.

“Are you hungry, dove?” he asks.

You take some time to mull this over. Sirius bites the inside of his lip to restrain himself, and he can see James doing the same to his cheek. It’s a good thing that you’re taking such a thorough inventory of yourself, he supposes, but it’s agonizing to watch how much effort it takes you. After a while, you say, “I think so.”

Remus nods. “Alright. We had a snack a bit ago, but if you’re hungry you should eat. I can make sandwiches,” he shoots Sirius a teasing look as he starts to stand, “since I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of those who’ve just got home from training.”

“No, sit.” James urges Remus back down with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing fondly. “I’ve got it, I’m on an adrenaline roll right now anyway. Egg and cress all around?”

“Yes, please,” Remus says. You echo a moment later.

Sirius can’t seem to detach himself from you, which isn’t unusual but has been worse since your injury. He dots kisses along the edge of your jaw to amuse himself.

“Are you feeling tired?” Remus asks you. “You haven’t had a nap yet today.”

Sirius waits for the inevitable joke about your nursing home schedule, but it doesn’t come. You must not be feeling up to it.

You shrug, mumbling, “I’m okay.”

“Have a nap with me after lunch,” Sirius says. “I’m knackered, and I could use a cuddle buddy.”

You make a confused humming sound. “Were you just asleep?”

“I was,” he admits readily. “And it’ll be even better the second time around, with you there.”

604 notes · View notes

currently-reading-a-book · 2 months

Text

Faux Love, Real Hearts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer must pose as a couple for a mission. However, one question remains: why does he keep calling you 'love'?

Genre: smut

Warning: talking about a criminal case, making out, fake dating (let me know if I forgot something)

Word Count: 882 words

A/N: As always, any criticism is very welcome. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. English is not my first language.

Anyway, enjoy :)

✧ 🎀 -------------------------------------------------------------- 🎀 ✧

You blushed yesterday, you blushed today and you most definitely will blush tomorrow. You simply will never get used to his soft voice whispering: “Sorry, love.”

As he calmly brushes past you. You will never get used to his rough hands brushing against your skin from time to time. You will never get used to his soft backrubs or his light kisses against your forehead. Perhaps it’s better this way. If you’re used to his permanent presence your heart would break into two when this mission ends. When all of this ends. Every day you’re hoping that the mission is continued another day, just to be with him. And for a certain time, it did work; until it didn’t anymore.

For more than a year, you have been working in the Behavioral Unit (BAU) department of the FBI. As an aspiring Agent, you are willing to do anything to save people. The team welcomed you warmly, always helping you where they could since you were the youngest member. You feel safe because you know they will always have your back. Yet nothing could have prepared you for your latest mission. The mission where you and Spencer had to fake a romantic relationship. Spencer was a good boyfriend; a fake one sadly.

This unsub is targeting young couples, so the team decided you and Spencer would be the best ones to fit his victimology. Quickly you move into a fake house that isn’t yours; drive a fake car and act like a fake couple deeply in love with each other.

“Are you ready to go to bed, darling?”, shouted Spencer down from your shared bedroom.

It was a comfortable room with a carpeted floor and a large king-size bed. Oh, how you loved this bed; nevertheless, nothing compares to sleeping beside Spencer. Your sleep quality improving enormously. Maybe Spencer has to do with it...

Without answering you went up, already in your pyjamas ready to get a good night’s sleep in. Today you search through lots of recordings in hopes of finding a lead in the case; Spencer of course helping you, but how could anybody read faster than Reid himself? You collapse onto the bed, feeling utterly exhausted. The slender nerdy boy, with his thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, is deeply engrossed in his book. Every now and then, he looks up from his reading, his bright eyes shining with a gentle smile that warms your heart.

“You must be absolutely tired, love.”

“God, yeah,” you laugh awkwardly. A strange silence surrounded them.

“Come here,” he opened his arms gesturing her to come closer.

She found herself in a state of confusion, uncertain of what to do next. As she lay there, she couldn't help but feel drawn towards Reid's comforting presence. She knew that cuddling with him would be unprofessional, but his warm embrace felt like a safe haven that she longed to be in. The conflicting thoughts in her mind left her feeling torn and indecisive, so she stayed where she was.

Since she didn’t come closer, he decided to drew closer to her. His hot breath tickled her neck as he whispered against her ears sending shivers down her spine: "You know we have to act like a real couple, you want to catch this unsub, don’t you?”

She gulped silently. Of course, she wanted to catch this motherfucker who’s been killing around D.C., however, all she could think right now was how close Spencer was and how his hot breath felt amazing against her neck.

“Spencer…,” was the only thing she could whisper back.

His hands grip her waist lovingly, bringing her closer to him.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he murmured against her hair, kissing the top of her head softly.

Another gulp. Feeling hot all over her body, you tried to think a straight thought, but how can you think rationally when a hot FBI agent's body is nearly pressed against yours? Particularly Spencers hot body.

“Kiss me, Spencer.”

Without a second of hesitation, he crashed his lips against yours. Like a starved man, his kiss was impatient and rough, in contrast to the delicate touch of his hands all over your body. You could feel his warm big hands exploring every inch of your body. Oh, how good it felt.

“Fuck, I wanted to do this since day one,” he cursed against your lips before softly biting them. His tongue teased your lips, wanting to enter your mouth. Gently you open your lips and your and his tongue dance together. His soft lips moved their way down to your jaw, then your neck where they stayed for a bit, nibbling at your flesh. You reached for his curls, gripping them which he responded with a moan.

“If I had to act like this stupid fake couple thing again I would absolutely, do it, just to taste your sweet lips, love.” He smiled against your neck.

“Wait,” you pushed him a bit away from you, “you don’t enjoy this fake dating?”

He took a deep breath. Panic started washing over you. Of course, he wouldn't like your back, what do you think?

"No". His angelic voice brought you back from your negative thoughts: “I would like more if we were dating real.”

716 notes · View notes

maya1525 · 1 month

Text

SUCK ~ GUESS ~ F*CK 😋🍾

18+MDNI

Pairing✩࿐Fem!Reader X Satoru Gojo, Ryomen Sukuna, Megumi Fushiguro, Yuji Itadori, Yuuta Okkotsu, Toge Inumaki, Kokichi Muta & Kamo Noritoshi

WARNINGS✩࿐unprotected vaginal sex, males take turns with Fem!Reader, choking, rough sex, male virginity loss, language, cream pie, group sex, cursed technique during sex

Word count✩࿐11k

BONUS✩࿐Someone loses his virginity to the reader in front of everyone. The reader gets fucked by two guys at once (both in her pussy), Sukuna awakens when Itadori’s turn is up, and the reader gets fucked in the air.

Summary✩࿐Fem!Reader has three minutes to suck one of our JJK men’s dicks blindfolded. Once her time is up she has to guess whose dick was in her mouth. If she guesses correctly, she gets to choose the position to get fucked in. If she guesses incorrectly, our gentlemen get to choose.

A/N✩࿐This is part 4 of my JJK series, reading the previous parts isn’t necessary (but it is appreciated) my works. I cut this fic down in parts if you want to skip to your favorite characters, their individual posts are linked to my works. When Sukuna speaks in Itadori’s mind, that will be in red.

I hope you enjoy the game I incorporated in this fic, it was fun to write! I think this will be my final part, but if you want more I’ve got a couple of ideas in the holster! They’ll most likely be threeways or with fewer characters involved. Quick scroll down if you don’t want spoilers! The reader gets fucked in this order: Machine, blood guy, honored one, sacred treasure, guy with a lot of brothers, Malevolent Kitchen, salmon with his bestie.

“The game is quite simple.” Gojo stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “You’re going to be blindfolded and will have to guess which man's dick is in your mouth. If you guess incorrectly, the man gets to choose which position to fuck you in. If you guess correctly, then you get to choose the position. To keep things interesting, you’ll suck dick for three minutes and get fucked for seven.”

You nodded your understanding as you sat on the large and cushy futon in Gojo’s apartment. He had planned on fucking you alone tonight, but your boyfriends wanted in on the action, plus they thought it would be a good idea to invite two of their friends, Mechamaru and Noritoshi.

You felt your cheeks warm up with excitement, never in your life, you’ve felt so deeply desired before. Everyone’s eyes were on you, especially because you wore a revealing teddy one-piece. Satoru bought it for you, and it complimented your figure perfectly. He even put a stunning custom collar on you, with a diamond-covered ‘S’ on it.

You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed to be this exposed in front of Noritoshi and Mechamaru. You were familiar with both of these men, but you were still getting used to human Mechamaru. Muta was on the leaner side compared to your boyfriends, he had sharp features and a large and noticeable scar on his upper cheek. While Kamo on the other hand always seemed like a strong and serious leader among his comrades. The thought that he yearned for you just as much as your boyfriends, made you wonder what he would be like when he fucked you. The thought made you anticipate his turn.

While you thought about those two men, your eyes were subconsciously drawn to both of them. Noritoshi sat on the far side of the sectional, his heated gaze stared you down hungrily. Beside him sat your boyfriend Megumi with a starved look in his midnight blue eyes. Next sat Itadori, he eyed you with such desperation, that it looked as if he was going to jump off the couch any second to get to you. Next to him sat Satoru smugly, his eyes gleamed playfully in your direction. Beside him was Muta, he eyed shyly with a faint blush on his face. To his left sat Yuuta and Inumaki, Toge was leaning into the couch comfortably, his violet-colored eyes sparkling over your stunning body with admiration and Yuuta had a similar look of awe on his face.

“Ok Y/n, I’m going to put this on you if you’re ready,” Satoru murmured, his gorgeous blue eyes gleaming down at you, while he wrapped his black blindfold around your eyes.

You were shocked at how you couldn’t even see small streams of light through it. You had always assumed that it was sheer fabric and that Gojo could slightly see through it, but you were mistaken. Satoru’s amazing Six Eyes technique is one to behold, he certainly is the strongest jujitsu sorcerer.

“OK, now that her eyes are covered, I’m going to hand each of you a playing card. Whoever draws the highest card gets to go first.” Satoru explained nonchalantly, as the sound of him shuffling the cards expertly made itself known in your ears.

After a short moment of listening to each man shift on the couch to get their card, Gojo spoke. “Now let’s reveal our cards.” You heard a few small sighs of excitement from some of the men, and you also heard some hisses of displeasure, assuming that they would have to wait a while until their turn.

Soon enough your ears picked up on the sound of someone coming towards you. You felt this man's warm hand gently caress your cheek. His fingers were nimble, could this be Inumaki? You quickly ruled out the guys you knew who had larger hands. You heard him fumble with his zipper as he struggled to lower his pants. He’s probably nervous… you thought.

You felt the head of his dick softly rub against your kissable lips. You decided to examine his cock with lips, as you brought your right hand up to his shaft. The girth of his dick wasn’t familiar. He seemed to have a very thick cock. You felt your pussy warm up with want at the width of this man’s shaft.

You grazed your lips along the left side of his penis. You managed to get a whiff of his scent, he smelt like clean clothes with a hint of light and airy cologne. His scent wasn’t any of your boyfriends… so you promptly ruled out Inumaki from your mind. Inumaki smelt fresh with a more detectable fragrant cologne.

You brought your mouth back to the tip of his dick and gave him a sweet and juicy kiss. You immediately felt the head of his cock ache towards you.

“Mmh-“ he whimpered from his throat. You could already taste his precum on the tip of your tongue. You greedily latched onto his thick and delicious rod. You sucked him off masterly, you made sure to lap your tongue on the underside of his cock in the process. You felt his fingers tangle into your hair impulsively.

“Ahh-“ he groaned quietly as he lost himself in the heavenly feeling of your mouth. He struggled to stay quiet and you were able to hear small barely audible moans escape from his lips.

He looked down at your beautiful face sucking his dick so perfectly, he’s never felt something so wonderful before. A faint blush crept across his face, it felt slightly embarrassing that he was experiencing this in front of his friends. The other males flashed him smirks and gave him slaps on the back of encouragement.

The way you moved your lips and tongue around his cock felt absolutely heavenly. He found it difficult to keep quiet with your hot mouth working on him.

Without meaning to, you whimpered onto his dick, due to the thought of how hot this situation may look. You couldn’t help but feel yourself dampen even more. You began to grow more impatient, you wanted this man to fuck you already. His small sighs and groans of delight didn’t help much either. It turned you on even more, you could tell he was trying his best to not make any noise, but your sinful mouth made that impossible. Suddenly you felt his hands lightly pull your face away from his rod.

“Has it been three minutes already?” You spoke out quietly.

“Yeah.” He whispered.

“So I’m guessing you’re… Mechamaru?” You questioned as you lowered Gojo’s blindfold from your eyes.

You were greeted by the pleasant sight of Kokichi standing above you with a desperate look on his face. His cheeks had a faint pink tint on them and it seemed like he couldn’t catch his breath.

You smiled up at him triumphantly, “Yes, I guessed it right!” You beamed up at him cutely as you rapidly guided Muta down to the couch. You maneuvered yourself so you sat on his lap, and he stammered underneath you nervously. You helped him unbutton his shirt and traced your dainty hands across his lean body. You didn’t want to embarrass him in front of the other guys, so you brought your mouth to his ear and whispered ever so quietly, “You’re a virgin aren’t you?”

Mechamaru gasped with surprise at your bold question, “Y-yeah…” he said softly through his teeth.

“Then I’ll ride you.” You murmured seductively as you licked the shell of his ear, causing him to quiver underneath you. You noticed his hands were respectfully at his sides, so you gently guided them to your waist. His fingers slightly fidgeted against the lacy fabric of your lingerie. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” You muttered in his ear, while your hands trailed their way down his torso. You’ve never felt so dominant before and you were loving the power you had over him.

“No, I haven’t.” He exhaled, as his sharp brown eyes stared at you with an insatiable hunger.

With that being said you delicately pressed your lips against his. He froze up with shock as you kissed him. He didn’t move his lips against yours, and you noticed he was holding his breath. You tenderly kissed his upper lip so he could kiss your plump lower one. His mouth moved cautiously as he got used to the feeling of kissing. You brought your other hand to the back of his neck and tangled your slim fingers in his thin black hair.

Kokichi was ecstatic to share his first kiss with you. He admired your soft-spoken and gentle personality. He secretly thought that you were the most alluring girl he’d ever met. He felt a prick of insecurity because you had three boyfriends though. He wondered if his lack of experience would deter you. He feared that you were only kissing him out of pity.

On the other hand, you thought the opposite; when it came to romance you were typically the bottom. Now’s your chance to take the lead and corrupt this innocent man right in front of you. Your hand grabbed ahold of his thick rod and you rubbed the head of his dick against your clothed pussy lips. You enjoyed the friction of the head of his dick brushing against your clit. You were able to quickly feel his precum dampen your underwear from the outside.

“Will it even fit in there?” Muta questioned sincerely, with a genuine look of curiosity on his face.

You flashed him a mischievous smile as a wave of encouragement set flame in your veins. You swiftly pushed the fabric that covered your pussy lips to the side and lowered yourself onto his raging rod. He was one of the thickest dicks you’ve ever taken and he stretched you out almost painfully. Mechamaru let out a surprised groan, you felt his fingernails dig into your waist as your tight pussy enveloped him entirely.

“Fuck��” Muta hissed under his breath, you were incredibly tight and wet. Your juices soaked his dick once he was completely lodged inside of you.

“Mmm-Mechamaru…” You moaned out at the delicious feeling of his rod being wedged in your horny hole. The slight ache of his broad dick straining your cunt, quickly melted away into hot pleasure. You began to swivel your hips against his sexily, loving the feel of his dick jolting around inside of you.

You studied Kokichi’s handsome face as you ground yourself onto him. His narrowed brown eyes gleamed lustfully into yours. He clenched his jaw with focus as he began to instinctively hump his dick up into you. His hips moved sloppily due to his inexperience, but that didn’t bother you. You loved his enthusiasm and how he was visibly enjoying you.

Mechamaru was on cloud nine, he would have never dreamed of this ever happening; his whole life he knew nothing but pain and suffering. His previous disabled and broken body prevented him from having a comfortable life. Every day was agony and he knew he’d trade anything to just be normal; so when that miraculous opportunity made itself known to him, he accepted without hesitation.

Right now in this very moment, Mechamaru was fully relishing in you. You looked like a beautiful angel in his eyes, especially because you made him feel such amazing bliss. His gaze lowered to your glorious bouncing breasts as you hopped on his dick like a bunny. You noticed his wondering eyes and guided his hands to your squishy boobs with a seductive smile. He held them in awe as if they were the most precious things he’d ever had the experience of feeling. He leaned forward and crashed his lips against yours with heated passion. He was speechless at how incredible you felt, and he felt an unfamiliar urgency in his lower region. Was he about to cum?

Even though you were in a room full of other guys, and their starved eyes burned holes towards the both of you, they all melted away. You had your full attention on Mechamaru. The way he bullied his dick up inside of you made you whine uncontrollably. You had no idea that he could have such a girthy and appetizing cock. Muta gripped your hips firmly and began to bounce you on his dick while he pounded you ruthlessly.

You were taken aback by his sudden strength and power, which caused your pussy to leak all over his length. Kokichi felt you dampen tremendously while he took control, which made him quickly realize you enjoyed being manhandled.

“Oh, yes!” You moaned out in delight while Mechamaru fucked you good. Due to how saturated you were, his cock slid in and out of you scrumptiously. You lowered your mouth to his neck to leave little possessive marks on his flawless skin. You knew for a fact that you’d love to enjoy him again.

Kokichi couldn’t handle it anymore, you felt so inviting to his horny dick, and he burst deep inside of you and choked out a surprised moan. You felt his cock throb as he shot his first spurts of cum into your slippery walls.

“Mmh-Kay you two, it’s been seven minutes,” Satoru announced huskily from a few feet away. Reminding you that there were other men watching you two like hungry wolves and they were patiently waiting their turns.

You didn’t want to stop though, not till you came on his dick. But to your disappointment, you felt your body float off of his and back onto the futon. Mechamaru’s dick shown slick with a mixture of your arousal and his cum. His meaty rod rested tiredly on his thigh. You still wanted him to dick you down. You glared over at Gojo, whose glowing blue eyes gave his cursed technique away.

“Aww don’t look at me like that. The time limit makes things fair.” He chided as a handsome smirk danced across his face, “You’ll get dicked down soon enough.”

Your gaze lowered to the large and noticeable tent in your teacher's pants. You glanced back up to see him smile knowingly at you. He leaned over and brought his blindfold from around his neck back to cover your eyes. Having him so close to you, you were able to catch a whiff of his seductive scent, you secretly hoped that Satoru was the next guy who’d have a turn at you.

Once you were situated on the futon properly and blindfolded once more, you felt two strong hands guide your face forward. You felt the head of a hot and ready dick pressed against your lips. You instantly deep-throated this man, you wanted someone’s dick to fill you up already. You brought your hand down between your legs to pleasure yourself. Not being able to orgasm with Mechamaru made you desperate for release.

As soon as you felt his penis hit the back of your throat, a low and surprised groan escaped this man's lips. You felt his cock throb against your uvula, causing you to gag slightly. With your other hand, you trailed it up his clothed thigh and rested it on his firm hip bone. This man seemed to have a more muscular build, with well-defined abs. You then maneuvered your mouth off of his rod and down to his testicles. Your slick tongue lapped at his heavy balls, and you gently coaxed his right nut into your mouth to suckle on. From this position, you felt his lengthy dick pulsate against the left side of your face.

The man above you growled in pleasure, you felt his gruff hands pull at your hair tautly, causing tingles of pleasure to shoot up your spine. You switched over to his left nut and began to slurp his ball into your mouth. You playfully tickled his nut with your tongue, causing a muted hiss of satisfaction to come from the man above you. Once you were done making love to his balls, you sensually dragged your tongue all over his lengthy dick. The man above you tugged your hair with approval while you licked him like a popsicle. You felt him pull your face away from his crotch, making you realize it must have been three minutes already.

“Are you Megumi?” You questioned as you lowered Satoru’s blindfold.

“I’m afraid not.” Snarked Noritoshi with a mesmerized look in his eyes, his robes were opened messily as his long dick stood up proudly. “But thanks for the wrong guess gorgeous, now I can finally enjoy you the way I want.”

Without warning, he abruptly flipped you on your side and wedged his knee between your thighs, forcefully spreading your legs apart. This gave him a perfect view of your slick core. Noritoshi expertly flung your left leg over his broad shoulder, so your legs were opened at a ninety-degree angle. He hastily moved your panties aside and plunged his rod balls deep inside you. Being invaded so suddenly made you cry out in surprise, you instinctively arched your back and clawed at the plush futon below you. He filled you so deliciously, you could feel your pussy clench around his dick with red-hot desire.

Kamo plowed himself into you relentlessly, each thrust jolted your petite body roughly. Despite his harshness, your cunt enjoyed every second of him inside of you. You felt his hand grip your jaw so you were looking at him. He lowered his body closer to yours and pressed his lips against yours ravishingly. His tongue slithered against yours with passion, while his hand rested around your throat. He squeezed your airway lightly, making you gasp for air in his mouth.

Noritoshi pulled his face away from yours to look down at you slyly, his hand still firmly pressed against your neck. You looked so perfectly slutty in Kamo’s eyes. As he choked you, a strand of drool slipped from your plump lower lip. Your cheeks were flushed and your captivating eyes drew him in like a moth to a flame, he could grow addicted to you. He loved how innocent and angelic you were in public, but behind closed doors, you were such a seductive little vixen.

As Noritoshi fucked you aggressively, the other men who watched intently were growing more turned on. Without realizing it, you locked eyes with Fushiguro, who stared at the both of you with a burning look of desire in his midnight blue eyes. You knew that your boyfriend was on board with Kamo railing you, and the three of you were planning something special for next weekend.

Kamo rammed his cock into you with immense power, causing you to whimper out with ecstasy, earning your attention. “Mmh- Nori- ahh!” You cried out as his other hand snuck its way to your clit, rubbing it in fast little circles. Sparks of electric pleasure ran through your body at lightning speed.

“Say my name,” Noritoshi grunted in your ear as his dick continuously invaded you.

“N-Norito-shi!” You moaned as his cock hit that deep delectable spot inside of you. You couldn’t help but get lost in pure satisfaction. You felt your release bubbling up to the surface, Kamo’s persistent rod kept bullying his way into you without faltering. Noritoshi’s sharp gray eyes were clouded over with lust, and his black hair messily fell in front of his face. He normally kept his bangs wrapped in white fabric, but on this occasion, you were blessed to see him with his hair down. Sweat glistened on his exposed torso, making his body look as if he was glowing.

“Damn…” he hissed in your ear, “you’re going to make me cum fast.” He growled as the power behind his thrusts became more erratic.

A tsunami wave of ecstasy exploded within you and you released yourself all over his dick. Which sent Noritoshi over the edge, he made sure to shoot his load extra deep inside of you. Lost in passion he crashed his lips against yours. Your lips moved against his with hunger, while you felt his hands caress your body possessively. His dick pulsated against your welcoming walls as the final strands of his seed emptied into you. You enjoyed being this close to Kamo.

Suddenly, the alarm on a nearby phone went off, signaling that Noritoshi’s turn was up, just in time. He carefully removed his spent member from you and helped you up into the sitting position. You could feel the mixture of his and Mechamaru’s cum slip out of your used cunt.

Noritoshi closed his robes and sat back down next to Megumi while keeping his satisfied gaze on you. Fushiguro whispered some words of approval to his friend.

You obediently put the blindfold back over your eyes and anticipated for the next delicious cock to come up to your lips.

Soon enough, you heard the familiar sound of someone undoing their pants right in front of your face, and quickly after you felt the warm and firm feeling of a dick asking to enter your wet mouth. You obliged and greeted him with soft and sweet licks. You trailed your tongue all over him, making sure not to miss a single part of his shaft. You nuzzled your face down to his balls and guided them into your sultry mouth one at a time. While doing this, you could hear his quiet sighs of delight.

His dick seemed to feel hotter the more you worked on him. You brought your mouth to the head of his shaft and worked your way further onto him, the head of his penis hit the back of your throat rather quickly. You curiously brought your hand up his length to see how much more of him wasn’t able to fit in your mouth. You were surprised at this man's size, you could easily jerk him off into your mouth at his impressive length. He felt all too familiar…

You pulled yourself away from him and swiftly changed your position on the futon. Now your back was against the comfortable cushions, you angled your torso up slightly so you were able to rest on your elbows. You angled your head back and opened your mouth, as ready as ever. He’ll be able to fit down your throat easier now. This man eagerly inched his dick into your mouth and down your throat, now you were able to fit him entirely down your throat. Panic bubbled up inside of you, due to the lack of air you were able to take in. But you’ve done this before, and you knew you could handle it, so you calmed yourself and alternated between sucking and breathing.

He looked down at your sexy little body in approval. He could see the outline of his dick in your throat and it made the collar look even sluttier. To this man, your appearance was that of a magnificent goddess. Every time the two of you made eye contact, he’d hold his gaze slightly longer and secretly memorize every beautiful detail about you.

You felt his large hand caress your jaw and neck lovingly, but this was more like sweet torture due to his massive size. His fingers trailed down to the bulge of his penis in your throat, and then he fondled your tits teasingly. Earning a muffled sigh of delight to come from your throat and around his cock. Due to gravity, you could feel your drool drip from your mouth, to around your nose and onto the blindfold.

Suddenly the quiet and familiar sound of the alarm went off nearby. He reluctantly pulled himself out of your tight and pleasant throat. You could never forget a dick this size, you knew who exactly was in your mouth, “Satoru.” You croaked out hoarsely, due to your throat being stretched out.

You felt warm fingers lower his blindfold from your eyes, and you were greeted by Gojo’s charming smile, “You guessed it. Now how do you wanna take your prize?”

“I want you to fuck me in the air.” A split second of surprise flashed across your teacher's face but was quickly covered by a hungry smile.

“As you wish.”

With that being said, you were immediately floating in the air alongside Gojo. The both of you hovered over the futon so that everyone could see what he’d do to you. He pulled you into his broad chest and guided your body over his lower region. You were able to feel his sprung dick press against your slick cunt. He hastily removed his shirt and smashed his lips onto yours. His tongue teased yours while you felt his hands grip your waist securely.

“I wish I had more time to tease and enjoy you, but we’ll have to make this a bit brief.” Satoru groaned into your ear as he burrowed his extra large dick in your pussy.

Being claimed so suddenly made you moan out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Ahh- I missed you!” You blurted, causing you to blush at your confession.

Gojo smirked slyly at the hot and bothered expression you wore, “Mmh, that’s a good girl, missing daddy’s dick, like you’re supposed to.”

Satoru smiled at you wickedly, while he effortlessly bounced you on his rod with such brutal force. Each time his cock was fully inside you, small whimpers and moans would be forced out of your lips. Your adorable pleas rang like music in Gojo’s ears, he relished in the fact of fucking you so scrumptiously in front of the other guys. As a matter of fact, why not put on a show?

Gojo briskly flipped you around, and now you were facing all of the other males in the room. You heard him reach into his pocket and to your shock he attached a leash to the collar he gave you. He pulled the leash taught so your airway was slightly constricted. Satoru’s speed and force increased as he pounded himself deep inside you. Each stroke of his cock sent waves of ecstasy throughout your body, you felt drunk off his dick.

Everyone got a more than perfect view of their teacher's exceptionally lengthy rod, stretching out your wet little snatch. It was an incredible sight to behold. Sure enough, you noticed that each male had sprung and horny dicks, pleading to leave the confines of their pants. Even Mechamaru and Noritoshi were hard again.

Gojo sneakily brought his right hand down to your crotch and began to rub your clit in an overstimulating way. Your body melted at his touch and your pussy dampened uncontrollably, as if a pipe had sprung a leak.

“You’re such a little slut, getting so wet for me while I fuck you in front of your boyfriends. That turn you on, babe?” Satoru murmured in the crook of your neck, then biting down gently. His sultry mouth on your sensitive skin caused you to arch your back with ecstasy. His teasing fingers on your clit, became too much to handle. You were pushed over the edge and drenched his dick in your release as a heavenly moan spilled from your lips.

“Mmh, yeah cum for me baby,” Gojo growled lowly, he could feel his orgasm coming on. Each thrust of his dick felt more powerful than the last, he lost himself in your tight and slippery cunt. His cum erupted inside of you vigorously, you were able to feel the copious amount of liquid shoot into abundantly. He bounced you on his dick, making sure to milk every drop out of him.

A nearby timer went off, notifying both of you that Satoru’s turn was up. Gojo sighed and popped his dick out of you, as soon as he exited your pussy, you immediately felt empty without him. To your surprise, none of your teacher's seed spilled from you, he must’ve shot his load extra deep in you.

Satoru lowered you down to the futon with his technique and helped cover your eyes with his blindfold. He sat himself back on the couch with a lazy smile on his face. Damn, he could never get tired of you.

You then sense the presence of another male standing in front of you. The familiar sound of undoing his pants in front of your face made itself known. He set both of his hands on each side of your face, as he thrust his hips forward. You opened your mouth obediently and felt his hard dick slip into your mouth and down your throat. The sudden feeling of him that deep in you, caused you to gag a little bit, but you still sucked him off hungrily.

He gently pumped his hips against your mouth, and you submissively held still while he face fucked you. You had a strong feeling that tomorrow you won’t have a voice. He tugged on your leash, causing you to slightly choke around him. He briefly removed himself from your slippery mouth to give you a little breather. In return, you softly sucked the tip of his dick. You swiveled your tongue around his sensitive head while jacking him off with your right hand.

You then opened your mouth up wide and let him pump his dick down your throat. Your jaw ached slightly, but you obediently kept your mouth open for him. With the leash still pulled tight, he fucked his hips against your face harshly.

The other men who sat on the couch watched as he face fucked you brutally. You were constantly choking and gagging on him, and they were amazed that you let him treat you so harshly. You were certainly well-trained. The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head in sick pleasure, if he kept going he’d finish in your mouth.

This man then pulled himself from your mouth to give you a little break, you leaned forward and kissed his shaft softly. Your kisses trailed from the head of his penis to the base. All while you left juicy kisses on him, you were able to feel his dick ache towards you with want.

Suddenly the timer went off, you were too busy leaving kisses on his cock to think of who this person is. “Umm, Itadori?” You croaked out with uncertainty as you brought the blindfold down. You locked eyes with your boyfriend Megumi.

“Sorry sweetie, but that's a wrong guess. Now go straddle Inumaki and Yuuta. I wanna fuck you overtop them.” Fushiguro stated nonchalantly, as he helped you up off the futon. You couldn’t help but blush at your boyfriend’s request, it seemed almost mean to tease them like that. Nonetheless, they were your boyfriends too and you were curious about how this was going to play out.

You settled yourself so Yuuta’s left leg and Toge’s right were between your thighs, the both of them eyed you longingly. Hopefully, soon it’ll be their turn, it looked as if Yuuta couldn’t wait any longer. You felt Megumi fondle your ass with approval as he placed the head of his dick at your moist entrance. Without delay, he pressed his hips against your bubbly ass cheeks. His cock was angled into your pussy in the most delectable way, a needy whine escaped your lips in response. Moaning so cutely while looking at Toge made him want to snatch you from Megumi’s grasp.

Fushiguro leaned close from behind and whispered in your ear, “Go on, kiss them.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you immediately sent your lips crashing down against Yuuta’s while you tangled your fingers in Inumaki’s platinum locks lovingly. Yuuta kissed you back with so much affection, he needed you then and there, but he’ll have to wait his turn like everyone else. His lips moved passionately against yours, while Fushiguro set into a steady rhythm of plowing his veiny rod into you. Each thrust caused you to lurch forward, making it a little hard to keep yourself steady. You found yourself hanging onto Yuuta’s shoulder for balance. You then switched over to Inumaki, whose violet-colored eyes grazed over you friskily. His lips collided with yours hotly. You felt Toge’s hand sneak way onto your thigh and began to tease his nimble fingers on your soft skin.

Fushiguro burrowed his dick into you so perfectly, he placed both of his hands on your slim waist to keep you steady. Every time his hips met your cheeks, loud clapping sounds would echo through the room lewdly. You couldn’t help but moan wantonly, you were loving the fact that you were able to enjoy all three of your boyfriends at the same time. Okkotsu guided your face back to his, he desired your attention. Your lips tangled with his seductively, while you felt his left hand rest on your hip, right below Megumi’s hand.

“I think their dicks need a little love,” Fushiguro grunted out from behind you. You hastily tried to undo the button on Yuuta’s pants, but doing it one with one hand was a little tricky. You felt him smile against your lips and helped you out, soon enough his hard and needy dick sprang free from its confines. You quickly brought your other hand down to Inumaki’s pants, and he helped you unbutton them as well.

You brought your palm up to your mouth to lick it for the extra lubricant and then did the same to your other hand. With Fushiguro holding you securely, you no longer need to grip Yuuta for stability. Your soft hands gripped both of your boyfriends' hot and eager cocks. You pumped them in union and admired the flushed looks they shared. Inumaki thrust his hips toward your hand instinctively, while Yuuta shuddered with delight.

You completely forgot that you still had the leash on, until Inumaki gently tugged on it, in order to have you kiss him again. He pulled you close and the both of your tongues wrestled with each other. You pumped your hands on their shafts with more desperation, you heard Yuuta moan softly in response. Fushiguro then reached forward and took the leash from Inumaki, he yanked it harshly causing your airway to close up. His thrusts became more powerful and his dick slid into you scrumptiously. You felt him bite down on your shoulder possessively, knowing that he would leave a nasty mark.

You couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t care. Even though you were suffocating, the pleasure you felt from Fushiguro’s heavenly dick made you drunk on ecstasy. Inumaki took his hand from your thigh to your sensitive clit, he knew exactly how to touch you. His sneaky fingers rubbed your clit at electric speed, making you cry out helplessly. Yuuta placed his hand on your plump breast, squeezing it softly. He teased your pebbled nipples, as they shook vigorously from every thrust. Sparks of hot bliss shook you to your core, you knew you couldn’t last any longer due to the overstimulation.

You were quickly losing feeling in both your hands due to the lack of oxygen, but Megumi was almost there. He clutched the leash tightly while he pounded you ruthlessly. It was sweet, sweet torture, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. The combination of Inumaki’s teasing fingers, Yuuta’s sweet caresses, and Megumi’s constant penetration. You quickly fell victim to your third orgasm.

Your slick juices coated Fushiguro’s rod tastily, giving him more lubricant to plow you with extra force. He came hard and fast, shooting his milky liquid into your pulsating pussy. As soon as he released himself in you, he let go of the leash, and finally, you could breathe again. You gasped for air greedily, taking it in as if you weren’t going to have another chance.

Right on cue, the timer went off. Fushiguro pulled himself out of your comfortable warmth and helped you off Inumaki and Okkotsu. Your cunt leaked cum all over both men’s pants as Megumi guided you off of them and back to the futon.

Your legs felt weak and your cunt was a hot and sticky mess, but you only had three guys left. You can push through a little bit longer, you’re more than halfway there! You sat on the comfy cushions and lazily put your blindfold back on.

You heard someone come near your face and hastily brought the tip of his dick to your soft lips. You gave his cock a loving kiss and welcomed him in your mouth sweetly. You slurped him hungrily and made sure to swivel your tongue all over his rod. You were able to taste his precum leaking from his tip. So you lapped it up like a hungry kitten. Your ears picked up on a faint groan of delight from the man above you. You couldn’t tell if it was Yuuta or Itadori though. You beckoned him down your throat expertly, earning another sigh of satisfaction.

You held him lodged in your throat briefly, and then you pulled him out and sucked him sweetly. With your free hand, you simultaneously jerked him off in your mouth as you slurped on his rod. Then you burrowed him down your throat again.

This man carefully cupped your face in his hands while you deep-throated him. You removed yourself from his horny dick and traced your tongue all over him seductively. You licked him like a lollipop, making sure to coat him up in your saliva. You even made sure to give his balls a good licking. His slick dick arched yearningly against your cheek while you worked your tongue on his nuts.

He was rendered speechless at the sight before him. You sucked, licked, and kissed him so perfectly. He wanted to pull you off his dick and immediately return the favor.

Then the timer went off, getting your attention. You felt him step away from you, leaving your face a wet mess. It wouldn’t hurt to guess him again, soon enough you’d be bound to get it right, “Yuji?” You asked while you felt him lower the fabric from your eyes.

“Correct!” Itadori beamed down at you with a playful smile, the way his lips curved upward was contagious, and you couldn’t help but grin back. He pulled his shirt off and threw it to the side casually.

“Can you fuck me while I lay down? I’m feeling a bit tired.” You asked smoothly, batting your pretty eyelashes up at the pink-haired man.

“Of course, baby! Let me take care of you.” He hummed as he guided you onto your back. Your legs dangled off the edge of its cushions and Itadori kneeled between your thighs. His warm brown eyes gleamed at you dreamily. He rubbed the head of his dick against your slippery entrance, then he slowly inserted himself into you. Even though you were already turned on and ready to go, his gentle approach melted your heart. Once he was fully inside you, he paused and groaned out in sick pleasure. “Ohh… you’re so fucking wet.”

Itadori placed both of his hands on your plump breasts and faintly groped them. He softly moved his dick in and out of you, but quickly became impatient. “C-can I fuck you rough?” He muttered pleadingly through his narrowed eyebrows, he was clearly holding himself back. Itadori saw how aggressive Megumi was with you, but he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries.

You smiled wryly at him, “What if I said no? And you had to go slow and gentle?” You teased with an arched brow.

That fucking tease, let me have her right now.

Demanded Sukuna in Yuji’s head, but Itadori ignored him and shoved Ryomen to the back of his mind.

“Then I’d respect that, I’ll treat you like a delicate flower if that’s what you wanted,” Itadori murmured while leaning forward to kiss you faintly. “But it would be so hard to restrain myself, especially from you.”

With that being said, your pussy automatically clenched around him desperately. Feeling that, Yuji flashed you a smug grin, “I think I know what you want.”

“Oh yeah?” You said with an aroused look on your face.

“Yeah,” Itadori smirked while brutally plowing his rod into your cunt, earning a sexy moan from you. “You want me to dick you down good, that’s what- you want.” He shoved his cock into you again, this time extra deep.

“Mmm hmm.” You whined while wrapping your legs around his toned waist.

You didn’t have to tell Itadori twice. It was as if a switch went off and he rabidly pumped himself into you like a wild animal. Moans fell from your lips with every thrust, Itadori leaned down and made out with you ravishingly. You loved how special he made you feel.

You instinctively clutched onto his shoulders as he railed you, knowing that you’d leave faint scratches on his skin. “Oh, Yuji!” You whined as he brought his hot mouth down to the crook of your neck. You sucked on his skin hungrily.

You forgot how powerful Itadori was, each time he collided his hips against yours, your whole body would ride up the futon. Eventually, your head dangled off the edge due to Yuji’s mighty thrusts. While writhing in pleasure, you accidentally made eye contact with Satoru. Your teacher observed you both with a lustful look in his eye. Yuji is finally getting a piece of the action he thought humorously.

Yuji then grabbed ahold of your slim waist and dragged you back down hastily. He put his hands back on your boobs as if they belonged there and continued to plow himself into you. With each mighty thrust, he would gasp quietly for air. Which fired you up even more, his little sighs were just too hot.

Itadori looked at you with such admiration, as sweat shone on his face. You’re just so incredibly gorgeous and to top it off you had a beautiful body. He adored your sweet personality and how you interact with others. After this, he plans on asking your boyfriends if he could be the fourth.

Fuck, asking those weaklings if you could be her boyfriend. Just take her for yourself you pussy.

Itadori ignored Sukuna’s. He needs to focus on cumming soon, otherwise, his turn will be up before he knows it. He pounded into you with a sense of urgency now, making sure to hit that pleasurable spot up inside you. Small cries of delight came from your lips as you pulled him closer and kissed him feverishly.

“Cum in me.” You murmured against his hot mouth.

Those words alone sent Itadori over the edge and he pumped himself into you a few rough times before losing it. As his dick hit your G-spot, you came in union with him. Both of you shuddered in pleasure as you covered his rod with your release. He shot his clear sticky liquid into you profusely, you could feel his length twitch while he emptied himself inside you.

Right on cue, the timer went off and Itadori pulled his head from the crook of your neck. You looked up at him contently; but right before your eyes, Yuji’s kind brown eyes gleamed a ferocious red. Tattoos formed on his face and shoulders and the energy in the room shifted into an all too dark and familiar one.

“S-Sukuna.” You were pinned underneath him and had nowhere to go, you felt like cornered prey.

“I’m back for more darling.” Ryomen purred lowly, he then licked the shell of your ear seductively. Being so close to the King of Curses, caused your entire body to shiver with fear.

All the other males who sat on the couch watching this ordeal unfold before them jumped up and were ready to defend you.

“Get off- ahh.” Inumaki’s cursed speech was a futile attempt against the King of Curses. All Sukuna did was shoot your boyfriend a glare and Toge started coughing up blood.

“No, don’t hurt them!” You cried out from underneath Sukuna’s ripped body.

Ryomen looked down at you cockily, “Oh? And what if I do-“

“You won’t be able to.” Interrupted Satoru. “Cause, I’ll end you. Right here, right now.” He warned venomously.

Sukuna whirled his head to look at Satoru with a challenging smile, “Calm down Honored One,” he sneered, “I was only joking. I’m just here to have some fun with the girl. I’ll let the brat take over once my seven minutes are up, got it?”

“Only if it’s ok with Y/n.” Gojo retorted with his arms crossed.

Ryomen looked down at you with a sadistic smirk, “What do you say Y/n? Wanna enjoy me sober this time?”

You quivered nervously underneath him, the night you shared with Itadori and Sukuna was a hazy one. You were heavily intoxicated and can only recall bits and pieces of what happened. You remember getting fucked rough by Sukuna in the bathroom. You recall enjoying it, even though he was incredibly scary. The encounter was a bit fragmented though… but then again, the following day you woke with brutal scratches and bite marks all over your body. Which Inumaki was not a fan of and he told your other boyfriends in the group chat that he didn’t Yuji near you ever again.

Despite the drama, Itadori was given permission to come and to strictly keep Sukuna at bay. But it seemed that was out of his control…

“You have my permission. Only if you don’t make me bleed.” You stated trying to sound stern, but your voice wavered with fear.

“Deal,” Sukuna said with a sharp-toothed smile.

Gojo’s glowing blue eyes looked at Sukuna coldly, “Very well, your timer starts now.”

“Excellent. Now let’s get this shit off of you.” Ryomen grunted while aggressively ripping off the one-piece teddy you wore. He tossed the dainty fabric to the floor, “I’ll keep the collar on you, just because it has an ‘S’ for Sukuna.” He said lowly, while Satoru rolled his eyes to himself.

Ryomen lowered his hot mouth down to your neck. Being so close to this malicious curse felt wrong and your body instinctively squirmed with panic. His hot mouth bit down on your neck and sucked roughly, he was claiming you as his in front of everyone. Sukuna maintained his gaze toward your boyfriends while marking you, daring them to challenge him. He made sure not to break your fragile skin, his large hands clasped themselves in yours possessively. He pinned both of your hands above your head and pulled away to admire the conflicted and flustered look on your face.

Ryomen could tell that you were noticeably shaken by terror, and the look of fear in your gorgeous eyes made his cock ache for you. “It’s ok to be scared in my presence, you have every right to be.” He taunted while keeping his ferocious gaze on your pretty face, he clasped both of your wrists in his left hand and brought his right hand down to your chin. He cupped your face gruffly and forcefully placed his lips on yours. His kiss felt incredibly intense, and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. This was so wrong, but it felt as if your body was getting drawn to his darkness. You involuntarily fell under his spell and kissed him back hotly.

Knowing that Gojo was here and moderating the situation helped ease your nerves, “Yeah, just surrender to me.” Sukuna growled against your lips while you felt the tip of his girthy dick deliciously rub against your entrance. A small mewl fell from your lips and into Ryomen’s mouth, he smirked cockily. “Good girl.” With that being said, he rammed himself into you greedily.

“Ahh!” You screamed out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, you tried to rip your hands out of his grasp and crawl away, but he held you firmly.

“Mmh, don’t think you can go anywhere…” Sukuna growled menacingly. You were able to feel his dick twitch inside of you with delight. He stretched you out similarly to Gojo’s dick, but it was the sheer and brutal force behind Sukuna’s thrust, that made it sting. “Now, let’s show them who you belong to.”

In a flash; he stood you up, turned you around, and bent you over. His hands roughly gripped the slim of your waist and he bullied his monstrous cock inside your slick cunt. He vigorously pounded himself into you, each thrust had incredible tenacity behind it. Despite his roughness, your pussy squelched around him in satisfaction. “That’s my little slut, I knew you missed me,” Sukuna grunted out from behind you.

He lifted your waist in the air and walked over to Noritoshi. He practically railed you over top of him, you felt him grab your hair harshly and force you to look into Kamo’s slate-gray eyes. “Tell him you love my dick.”

Your cheeks flushed at his demand, “That’s mean. I- ohh…” Sukuna deliberately came in contact with your g-spot, “shouldn’t.” You finished your sentence with a breathy sigh.

“Don’t care.” He hissed in your ear, “Do. It.” Ryomen ordered as he viscously pumped himself into you.

You shook your head in retaliation, “No…” you whimpered meekly.

“Defying me will get you nowhere. Perhaps, you need a little inspiration.” At lightning speed, Sukuna’s muscular hand aggressively gripped Noritoshi’s throat.

Kamo was taken aback by the massive wave of dark energy coming off the curse in front of him. Having his hand grip Noritoshi’s throat, there was nothing he could do but freeze. His muscles were at a standstill still even though he wanted to fight back.

“Stop it!” You cried, bringing both of your hands up to Sukuna’s forearm. But he gruffly grabbed your thin wrists and pinned them behind your back.

“Say it, and I’ll stop.” Grunted Sukuna as he continued to push himself into you.

Kamo couldn’t breathe and he hated that his body wouldn’t let him fight back. All he was able to do was stare at your fear-stricken face as the King of Curses claimed your body as his.

“I-I love his dick.” You muttered under your breath, not looking at Kamo, as your body jolted from every thrust.

“No! Say it right. Say my name.” Sukuna threatened you, squeezing your wrists and Kamo’s neck forcefully.

“Ow!” You whined in response to the sharp pain, “OK! I love your dick Sukuna!” You moaned out and just as he promised, he briskly let go of Noritoshi’s throat. Kamo gasped in air immediately, he wanted to detest him, but his soul and body knew better than to provoke Ryomen Sukuna.

“Way to go! Now was that so hard?” The curse cooed against the back of your neck in approval, “Now let’s do the same thing to each of these weaklings.”

Before you could respond, Ryomen brought you over to Megumi, who was glaring daggers at Sukuna. The King of Curses paid no mind to him and continued to blow your back out over the top of your boyfriend. “Tell him you belong to me.”

“But he’s my boyfriend… ahh!” You cried out in hot sick pleasure as Sukuna deliberately fucked you at a faster speed.

“Say it. Unless you want him to suffocate too.” Ryomen barked sternly while leaning forward to leave a fat hickey on your shoulder, purposely overtop Megumi’s. You squirmed with pleasure underneath his molten mouth.

You didn’t want Sukuna to harm Fushiguro so you obediently said, “I belong to Sukuna-ahh!” You cried out in bliss. Why did his dick have to hit all the right places inside of you? You found it hard to be mad at the monster, because of how good he made you feel.

Despite the harsh words Sukuna was forcing you to say, Fushiguro couldn’t help but love how adorably horny you looked. Your boyfriend simply looked at you with a small smirk on his face and knew that you’d apologize and make up for it back home. He tried to lean forward to give you a reassuring kiss, but Ryomen harshly ripped you out of Fushiguro’s grasp. You were now hovering over Satoru, who couldn’t help but admire the fucked-out-look on your alluring face.

“Tell him my dick is superior,” Sukuna smirked at Gojo over your petite body. Satoru cockily rolled his eyes at his words, that was obviously a lie.

Getting railed so pleasurably made your brain go foggy, you felt as if you needed to please the Sukuna. You were his little slut now and did what the King of Curses wanted. “Sukuna’s dick is… mmh. Superior. Kiss me…” You were able to feel your fourth orgasm bubbling up inside you, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last any longer. Satoru smiled at your request and kissed you passionately, his hand cupped your chin lovingly. But before you knew it your body was bouncing in front of Mechamaru.

Kokichi wasn’t a fan of this public display of degradation, but calming the noticeable hard-on in his pants was out of his control. He couldn’t help but get turned on while watching you take Sukuna’s dick so perfectly.

“Tell him my dick feels better.” Sukuna groaned in your ear, enjoying the way your pussy sucked him in effortlessly.

“Sukuna’s dick feels better.” You whimpered overtop of Muta, while your pleading eyes met his. Kokichi couldn’t help but blatantly check you out while having your petite naked body so close to his. Having his cock in you felt so long ago, and he wanted to have another go at you.

Up next was your sweet Yuuta. He was worried about you at first, but after realizing that you were enjoying Ryomen’s length, he was content with watching your pretty face contort with pleasure. While observing this scenario unfold, he too struggled to calm his boner.

“Tell him my dick is all you need.”

“Sukuna’s dick is all I need… mmh yeah.” You gasped out in ecstasy, Sukuna bounced you on his cock scrumptiously, and everyone was able to hear how noticeably wet you were, and that shifted the energy in the room back to how it was earlier. The hostility toward Ryomen was long forgotten and the other males enjoyed the show he put on with you.

Yuuta’s gaze met yours lovingly, “You’re so pretty.” He cooed with approval.

Lastly, you could barely hold yourself up in front of Inumaki, Sukuna released your hands and you pulled in your boyfriend for a heated kiss. “Tell him you only want my cum in you.”

“I only want Sukuna’s cum in me.” You whined under your breath, and speaking of, “Just make me cum already.”

“Oh? What makes you think you can give me orders?” Ryomen sneered from behind you, giving your ass a brutal slap. You cried out in a mixture of pain and enticement. He knew that he was pushing on seven minutes real quick. It was time to finish. His hands gripped your waist securely while he ruthlessly smashed himself into you. You were beyond exhausted and found yourself falling victim to gravity. Sukuna picked up on this and hoisted you up, so your feet weren’t even on the ground. Each powerful thrust sent his dick bullying against your cervix, making you cry out. Inumaki pressed his lips against yours tantalizingly while Sukuna demolished you aggressively. You couldn't hold it back any longer, and drenched Ryomen’s rod with your cum.

“Your pussy is too fucking perfect… you’re mine.” Groaned Sukuna as he emptied himself nice and deep inside of you.

Your lips were glued on your boyfriends, while you felt Sukuna’s dick shoot his continuous strands of seed in you. He twirled you around with his cock still lodged up inside you and pulled you close to his chest. He pressed his lips against yours passionately, “If you need a good fucking, you know where to f-“

Suddenly, the timer went off, and Sukuna’s fiery red gaze transitioned to Yuji’s soft brown one, just as promised.

“Oh, sorry about Sukuna. I have a hard time reining him in whenever I’m around you.” Itadori admitted sheepishly, running his hand through his pink hair. “I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you.” Yuji gave you a gentle hug and then pulled his spent member from your damp core. As soon as he pulled out a few streams of clear cum came running down your thighs.

You could barely stand, so Itadori swooped you up and gingerly set you down on the futon. He helped you put the blindfold back on. You smiled at his gentle treatment toward you. Now there are only two guys left, Toge and Yuuta.

You then felt something hot press against your left cheek, and as you turned to try and put it in your mouth you felt another dick poke your right cheek. Surprise caught you off guard, both? At the same time? Maybe they drew the same number card. That was all you could logically conclude in your hazy brain.

You decided to alternate sucking both of your boyfriends' dicks, first the one on the left. You kissed his entire length lovingly while you softly pumped the other cock in your right hand. Your wet mouth enveloped the rod on your left briefly. You held him in your throat for a bit, knowing that it would feel pleasurable. You quickly switched hands and gave the same type of treatment to the dick on the right. You trailed featherlight kisses up and down his dick. Then you beckoned him down your throat, knowing that he’ll enjoy the wet squeeze. Once both cocks were saturated with your saliva, you jerked them off simultaneously. As you pumped them, you brought their tips to your lips. You were able to taste their salty precum drip onto your tongue.

The other men in the room couldn’t help but get even more fired up at what was going on right before their eyes. Yuuta and Inumaki exchanged heated glances with each other while your hot mouth worshiped them at the same time. Yuuta was on the left and Toge on the right, each man had a fist full of your hair gripped tightly.

You dragged your tongue across them both in the most sensational way, earning a muted moan to come from the back of Toge’s throat. Despite being fucked out, you were excited to enjoy Inumaki and Yuuta at the same time. You forced the dick on your left to go down your throat once more, and as you did a small sigh escaped his lips. You then switched to the cock on your right, guiding him down your throat with your tongue. You felt him pull your hair tautly, earning a gurgled moan of excitement to come from the back of your throat.

Just then, the timer went off and it was time to guess. Due to the process of elimination, “Yuuta and Inumaki.” You said confidently while lowering your blindfold. Your hazy eyes were greeted by both of your boyfriends standing over you with their sprung and slick dicks in your face. They eyed you longingly and were ready for action.

“So how do you want to take us?” Yuuta asked with a lustful look in his dark eyes.

“I wanna enjoy you in me at the same time.” You sighed, leaning back on the futon seductively. “Yuuta, sit down on the couch.” You instructed, with a perverted idea in your head.

Your black-haired boyfriend did what he was told and sat beside Muta. “Then Inumaki, get on top and face him. Then I’ll sit on you both.” You smiled with a playful glint in your eye.

Toge obeyed your command and settled himself on Yuuta’s lap. You made your way over to them and spun around so you could face your sweet Inumaki. Your dripping pussy hovered over Toge’s dick, but Yuuta had the head of his cock at your ass. You wanted them both in your cunt, so you snuck your hand down and guided his rod up to Inumaki’s so that they were touching. Both men shuddered at the taboo feeling, you couldn’t help but adore the flustered look on Toge’s face. His violet-colored eyes looked at you with deep desire.

You were too caught up in the moment and slipped down onto both dicks entirely. Having both cocks up your pussy felt incredibly hot, you felt a slight sting to being stretched out, but you pushed it aside and focused on having a good time with your boyfriends instead.

“Mmm, you’re too tight.” Whimpered Yuuta from behind you, you felt him lean forward and kiss your shoulders and caress your waist lovingly. You held onto Inumaki for stability while you slowly moved your hips for more friction.

Both men groaned out in pleasure while you ground yourself on them, this caused their dick’s to rub against each other in such an amazing way. Your pussy was incredibly damp due to your arousal mixed with the other men’s cum. Unfortunately, your body was spent, and your thighs burned from Sukuna railing you on your feet earlier. Most of the energy you had was spent on the other men.

You brought your lips to Inumaki’s and kissed him feverishly, “My legs are tired, can you and Yuuta take control?” You asked sweetly.

“Shake,” Toge said affirmatively, he then secured his hands around your waist while Yuuta did the same. Both men lifted you together and then dropped you back down onto their cocks. Feeling them slide back into you sent shivers of delight to run down all of your spines.

“Oh, yes!” You moaned out in adoration, you accidentally cast your gaze past Toge and to Megumi who sat diagonal from you guys. Fushiguro eyed you with acceptance while he and Kamo chatted nonchalantly. You glanced over at Noritoshi, who had a more hungry look on his face. Yuji stared your way with a captivated look in his eyes. While Satoru, leaned back on the couch comfortably, keeping his brilliant blue eyes on you. You amazed him at how skilled you were at taking their dicks. Muta who sat beside Yuuta, had a flushed look on his face, especially because of how close he was to the action. He felt a small sting of jealousy and wanted to be one of the guys inside of you.

You felt Yuuta sneak his hands up your torso and grab ahold of your soft and bouncy breasts. He always loved feeling your boobs. Whenever the two of you would cuddle he’d find a way to hold them sweetly. Both men continued to pump into you simultaneously, each thrust more powerful than the last. You found yourself lost in Inumaki’s captivating gaze, he drew you in almost hypnotically.

“Mmh, both of you feel… so… good.” You whined out between their synced thrusts.

Inumaki felt that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. The combination of your slick and tight heat alongside the friction against Yuuta’s dick inside you, was more than heavenly. He pulled you closer and crashed his lips against yours passionately. Toge brought one of his hands up to your hair and gently tugged your luscious locks to deepen the kiss.

Yuuta was in love with how amazing you felt; so saturated and tight, he could stay here forever if you let him. The unique sensation of his lengthy rod rubbing against his friend Inumaki’s was just as pleasurable. He felt honored that he was able to share you so intimately with his best friend. Each time Yuuta shoved his dick into you while Inumaki did, he could tell that he was going to bust soon.

“Inumaki, I don’t think- ahh I can last any longer.” Yuuta groaned out anxiously, sure enough, their timer would be up soon.

“Shake-“ Toge shuddered, his eyebrows narrowed in concentration as he continuously shoved himself inside you.

Yuuta and Toge began to plow you down onto their hot dicks with incredible force. Your pussy couldn’t take any more of it, and you weren’t sure if you were able to cum again. All you could do was whine and babble uncontrollably while they shared you.

“So… mmh. Keep going! Ahh…” you sputtered out, lost in pure ecstasy.

Suddenly, the timer went off, but it fell silent to you three. “Cum.” Inumaki stated while he and Yuuta pushed themselves balls deep in you.

Your forced orgasm hit you hard and your pussy pulsated around both rods inside you. You felt your release drench their dicks in the most appetizing way. Yuuta and Toge released themselves in vigorous squirts, each man held you close to them as they rode out their waves of pleasure. Their cum mixed as one, as they shot their streams of milky liquid into you.

They held you for a brief moment, letting you catch your breath as they did the same. You felt like a limp rag doll and exhaustion quickly overwhelmed you. You tried to maneuver yourself off of your boyfriends, but it felt as if your legs were jello.

Satoru picked up on that and swiftly pulled you up and off of them. Once he did a waterfall of everyone’s cum fell down your thighs, it felt hot and sticky. There was such an abundant amount of release in you that when Gojo carried you down, you heard a few splats fall onto his marble floor. He set you on his lap and draped your tired legs off onto Yuji.

Inumaki removed himself from Yuuta’s lap and began to wipe himself off with Gojo’s blue complimentary towel.

“You’ve got me captivated more than you can imagine,” Satoru murmured against your forehead.

You smiled hazily, but you were too tired to respond. You rested your head on his muscular chest and breathed in his comforting scent. The room around you began to fade away and the quiet conversations amongst the other males felt distant. Sleep quickly grabbed a hold of you and your dreams were peaceful.

Little did you know, the following month you’d miss your period.

1K notes · View notes

munsons-curls · 2 years

Text

Black Dahlias

Pairing: Ghostface!Eddie Munson x F! Reader (18+)

Contains: 18+!! Heavy, graphic smut. Rough, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral sex (M/F receiving), praise kink, slight degradation, breeding kink if you squint, possessive!eddie, mean!eddie, slight innocence kink. Minor ghostface!steve. CANON DIVERGENT.

Trigger warnings: DUBCON, knife play, stalking, panty theft, drinking and drug consumption, emetophobia, allusions to sexual assault and child abuse, graphic depictions of murder, violence and gore. <-PLEASE HEED THESE TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!

A/N: happy All Hallows’ Eve!! 🎃 thank you so so so much to T @hotchs-bitch for leaving me 112 comments on this Google doc despite having her own 17k word WIP. I love u.

Somebody’s watching you.

Your eyes dart around the open courtyard, scanning the area for anything, anybody that stands out, but the unease rolling in your stomach dissipates as quickly as it arrives.

In the distance, you spot a tall figure lighting a cigarette under the awning of the drama block. His dark, curly hair sits at his leather and denim clad shoulders, ringed fingers bringing a cigarette to his mouth. He’s initially a cutting figure, intimidating and looming but you find yourself drawn to him in a magnetic way.

You meet his eyes briefly, your attention ripped away when a girl with short, dirty blonde hair rushes past you, splashing you with her converse. She windmills to a stop and begins apologising profusely, running back to you.

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, I’m so sorry.” She rasps. “I totally didn’t even see that stupid puddle and now you’re soaking!”

“No harm done.” You smile, downcast. “I was already wet.”

She looks you up and down, her eyes widening at you soaking through your clothes. “I’m so sorry. Do you have, like. A ride or something? How long have you been waiting here?”

“Since class let out. I’m just waiting for the rain to clear to walk home.” You smile.

“Okay. Forget it. C’mon. You’re coming with me.” You’re being dragged away by a well-meaning hand before you can protest, leading you to a dark red BMW. “C’mon!” She insists when you drag your heels, pulling you down the hilly path to the car.

You curiously look back for the figure in the distance, but he’s gone by the time you manage to pull free of your new friend.

“I’m Robin. And that head of hair you see is Steve.” She says, motioning to the driver in a green uniform vest.

You greet Steve quickly and he mock-salutes you with two fingers, offering you a tight smile as Robin ferries you into the back of the car, quickly taking her place in the passenger side. She shakes out her hair, water droplets splattering Steve.

He squirms and wipes his face before starting the car. “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes, Robin. I’ve told you—if you want rides from me, the least you can do is be on time.”

Evidently, Robin bringing in strays isn’t new to Steve, he doesn’t seem at all irritated by an unknown girl dripping rainwater in the back of his BMW. He’s more irritated by the wait.

“Vickie needed help with a special project! Besides, class actually let out fifteen minutes ago, so technically we’re both late.”

You stifle a laugh in the backseat, and your driver’s eyes flit up to yours through the rear view mirror. “Who’s your friend?”

“That. Is actually a great question.” She muses. “We just met and I couldn’t stand to leave her out in the rain. I didn’t get your name.” She turns around to face you. “Did I?”

She seems harmless enough, a little frazzled and chaotic, but rumours about this town put you on edge. The cult-like unsolved murder of Chrissy Cunningham two months ago still sits like a layer of smog over the town, a simultaneous refusal of the townspeople to acknowledge it—or let it go.

You know the guy accused was cleared. How or why—you’re not privy to yet.

You will be soon enough.

You smile and tell Robin your name.

“Are you new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Steve asks.

“Yeah, my dad took a job at that new state lab, so I transferred in.”

“I see. And where am I taking you lovely ladies today?”

Robin’s face crinkles and she rolls her eyes, a silent plea to ignore her friend and his overt-chivalry. “Do you have the video for Nance’s?” Steve nods. “Then we can go straight there.”

Your brows furrow. “I’m sorry. Where are we going?”

“Our friend Nancy hosts a movie marathon every Friday with a few other friends of ours.” She adds proudly, “Courtesy of Steve and I — we work at Family Video, over at the strip mall on Franklin and Marsh.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. You’re gonna love it, it’s great!”

“Oh, no. No, I really appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t want to intrude, I don’t think your friend would be too happy about somebody just, y’know. Waltzing in.” You chuckle.

“Oh, trust me. You don’t know Nancy. She loves playing hostess, and she’ll love you. Don’t worry.” Robin reassures you, pulling down her visor mirror.

Steve hums, agreeing with Robin. “She’s right. Half of Hawkins practically has a key to the Wheeler’s. Just, y’know. Don’t tell Ted.”

You smile awkwardly, settling in a little better in the backseat. You don’t interject in the conversation much, Robin thankfully takes care of that for you as she rambles to Steve about Vickie and her new boyfriend.

You’re content to let the heaters warm your skin, and to watch the rows of houses go by, cautiously relieved at the possibility of some new friends after two months of loneliness.

At the Wheeler’s, you introduce yourself politely to Mrs Wheeler, offering a smile to the distracted man in front of the TV. Steve looks at you, mouths, “Ted.” And you nod in understanding, suppressing a laugh.

Mrs Wheeler hands you a warm towel and ushers the three of you down into the basement.

“Nothing too scary.” She says pointedly, looking at Steve. “If I have to sleep in the same bed as my twelve year old son again, there will be hell to pay, Steven.”

“Yes, ma’am. I promise. Nothing too scary.”

You follow Robin and Steve down into the basement; cozily decorated with throw blankets, cushy rugs, a sofa and a loveseat bracketing a TV on the far edge. Sconces and low lamps light the space, illuminating the group huddled in front of the TV.

“Who’s ready for Halloween II?” Steve exclaims, fishing out a VHS from under his windbreaker.

“Ah, so he lives!” Says a theatric, but deep voice behind you. “You’re twenty minutes late, Harrington.”

You let the voice wash over you before you turn around. Your breath hitches when you match the voice to the same figure who was lighting a cigarette under the gym awning just a little while ago.

You study him now, up close. Shoulder length, curly hair, sharp bone structure. High cheekbones and an angular jawline, a strong neck, full, red lips and most disarmingly, big, brown eyes. He’s intense up close, but it’s not an intensity you necessarily have a desire to run from.

His brow raises at your inquisitive gaze—you’ve been staring. “This one of your strays, Harrington? Or is this Buck’s doing?”

Steve gestures vaguely before walking away, leaving Robin—Buck—to make your introduction before joining Steve too. You pull your towel closer to your body, goosebumps erupting on your skin under an intense gaze.

He extends a large hand, chain link bracelet falling around his wrist. “Hey. Eddie.”

You take his hand, warm and large, in yours, letting his fingers wrap around the back of your palm firmly. Your voice is hoarse when you tell him your name and he laughs. A throaty sound that emanates from his chest, a grin taking over his face.

He has dimples.

“Yeah, I know.”

Your heart skids to a stop. “You do?”

“Yeah? Buck just told me.” He replies, looking at you quizzically. He wraps his hands around your upper arms, manoeuvring you so he can slide past, his chest pressing against your back. His leathery, piney scent drifts to your nose. “You comin’?”

You nod meekly, watching him take a seat on the couch, legs spread apart as he adjusts his hips and sinks down in his seat. Fondness spreads through you at the awkward, oddly charismatic way he carries himself. He lays an arm over the back of the couch leisurely, opening himself up as Nancy winds the VHS.

Magnetic as he may be, there’s a shroud of something around him, something dark that extends past his appearance.

You make a resolution not to find out, to get through this year without mishap, but when Nancy takes the last viable seat, you’re left to take a seat next to the guy you promised to swear off.

Eddie stiffens when you take the seat next to him, awkwardly tensing and stealing looks. Robin offers you a comforting smile as the movie starts, and while you stay firm on wanting as much distance between you and Eddie as you can manage, the heat between you slowly builds, and the distance becomes smaller. The pull towards each other becomes heady until you’re pressed up against one another, your shoulder tucked into Eddie’s arm, your head under his chin.

You feel his heart rate spike at the jumpscares, matching yours, but where you wear fear and apprehension on your face—Eddie wears excitement.

——————————————————————————

Somebody’s watching you.

It’s a thought that crosses your mind multiple times a day, every day for around ten months now. It starts as a fleeting occurrence, something you can chalk up to anxiety, but as the days pass, the rolling unease in your stomach, and the pressure on the back of your neck becomes more insistent.

Somebody’s watching you.

It’s near constant; following you at home, through the school hallways, free periods, the mall. It’s worse at night. With fall on the horizon, the days are shorter, and in the dead of night, you feel as though there are eyes on you, crawling up your body like little fire ants.

Curtains and blinds don’t help. The feeling is heavier when you can’t see what lurks outside.

A heavy thump from downstairs tears you from a deep sleep, the sound grabbing you by the chest and slamming you into consciousness. You sit idly for a few seconds, allowing your brain to catch up and your heart to settle down before you brave breaching your covers.

You glance at the clock.

02:22.

It’s not until you’re several shaky steps towards your bedroom door that you realise what the sound was.

Somebody closed your front door.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, making sure you’re wide awake. You reach for the door with trembling hands and step outside into the lit hallway—you can’t sleep in a dark home when you’re alone.

“Dad?” You call out.

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing for his voice to call back so badly, you almost imagine it. He’s not due back for another five days, and when you lean over the bannister to look at the entryway, and don’t miraculously see his shoes—your blood runs ice cold.

Somebody was in your house.

There’s an idiom associated with horror movies.

When you hear a strange noise, going to investigate is an almost sure fire way to get yourself killed and have your face plastered on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. But your feet carry you downstairs anyway, curiosity outweighing rational thought. You at least want to know if you need to get the hell out of your house, and with no escape upstairs, you’re safer downstairs.

The floorboards under the stairs creak with your weight as you pad down to the front door, double checking the lock. You slowly check the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen when a chilling thought occurs to you.

You freeze.

The door closing could have been a person going out.

Or a person coming in.

Ice freezes down your spine, cracking your resolve as your heart jumps to your mouth. Suddenly, the kitchen phone rings and you yelp, body recoiling at the sound.

“Hello?”

“You want to play a game?” A voice leers.

“What?”

“I’m just messin’,” replies a more familiar voice. “What are you doin’ up this late?”

“Eddie?”

“No, the fuckin’ Grim Reaper.” He deadpans. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. What are you doin’ up’?”

“Nothing. Just needed some water.” You reply absent-mindedly, filling up your glass.

You’re here, you might as well.

The water replenishing your dehydrated body kicks your brain into gear, a thought occurring to you. “Wait. Why did you call me if you didn’t know I’d be awake?”

“I saw your lights on.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean, you ‘saw my lights on’?”

“Relax, 21 Questions. I’m doin’ a run for one of my regulars and I was in your neighbourhood. Thought I’d drive by and see if you were all good since you were so tetchy about a week alone. Saw your lights on—gave you a call. That okay?”

You smile at his gruff gesture.

You’ve learned that about Eddie in the past ten months. He’s well-meaning, but every sweet gesture is undercut by a layer of sarcasm and gruffness. You don’t blame him for his coldness.

Despite moving to town two months after Chrissy’s death, you were quickly made privy to everything that happened, and the aftermath, you saw for yourself. Eddie, despite being cleared, still subjected to whispers and dirty looks, branded a devil worshipper and a cult worshipper and a murderer.

Graffiti on his locker, snide comments in the halls, even his business took a hit. His only saving graces were Hopper, who’d cleared him, his Uncle Wayne and your group of your friends—and to a lesser degree—you.

“Of course that’s okay.” You reply.

He makes a non-committal noise. “You doing okay, though?”

A part of you wants to tell him you’re scared, maybe have him blow off his weed run and come keep you company. There’s a safeness with Eddie, but you decide against it.

Your voice pinches when you speak. “Yeah. All good.”

A moment of silence stretches between you, almost like he doesn’t believe you. He breaks the silence finally.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” You finish and slide the phone back into the hook.

You replenish your glass of water, content to explain the slamming sound away as yet another coincidence—maybe as a dream your brain confused with reality when you were coming to.

As you set the glass on the kitchen island, your eyes catch a glimpse of something behind the roll of tissue. You slowly reach forward, moving the tissue out of the way to reveal a single flower with thin, dark maroon petals and a pink centre.

A black dahlia.

You pluck it from the countertop with a shaky breath, examining it under the light, and drop it when you feel a pull at the back of your neck, the feeling of somebody’s eyes on you returning again, making you feel uneasy.

You don’t spare the flower, nor the window behind you a second look, the glass of water left on the marble as you grab a knife and walk firmly to the couch in the living room. You draw the curtains and switch on the TV, flick through until a rerun of a movie plays on mute in the background, lulling you into as deep of a sleep as you can manage in the circumstances.

But somebody’s watching you.

——————————————————————————

You drag your body through the hallways the next morning, eyes weighed down like dumbbells and head fuzzy from the lack of sleep. You let your head rest against the cool metal of your locker to offer you some relief as your eyes close, succumbing to your exhaustion.

“Hey!” Nancy’s voice chirps. She looks at you perplexed when you jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You blink heavily and pull your locker open. “No, it’s fine. Just tired, that’s all.”

“Did you stay up late studying for Mr Haskell’s?” She asks, propping her hardback textbooks against her hip.

Shit.

“God, I wish. I actually forgot.” You sigh, grabbing your binders.

Your peripheral registers something falling out of your locker and drifting to the floor as you take out your things. Nancy’s quicker than you, balances her books on her hip and bends to pick up the item, your heart skidding to a halt when you see it in her hand.

Another black dahlia.

You feel the blood drain from your face, your stomach dropping and fingers going numb.

He was here. You’re being followed.

You feel that ominous feeling return, the feeling that you’re being watched, the crowd in the hallways offering you no solace. It feels like walking through a group of people with an invisible stab wound, nobody any the wiser of your impending doom except for you.

Nancy spins the flower from the stem, a smile taking over her face as she extends it to you. “A dahlia… nice. Who’s the guy?” She asks in a sing-song voice.

Your voice feels far away when you answer her. “There’s no guy.”

“Sure. She says sardonically. “You have flowers in your locker but no secret admirer. I want details.” As she walks away, she nods as an acknowledgement to somebody behind you.

You squeeze the flower between your hand just as a strong pair of hands pat, or rather, jostle your shoulders.

“What’s this I hear about a secret admirer?”

“Christ, Eddie. You almost gave me a heart attack.” You mutter, stuffing the flower into your pocket.

His eyes narrow as he scans your face. His gaze is intense, but it offers you an odd kind of relief— his exuberance oddly cancelling out the nauseating fear clouding you.

Leaning against Nancy’s locker with his hands in his pockets, he asks, “Why so tetchy? You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He leans in, looks down at you with a gaze that makes your skin prickle, a feeling you’ve had often during your friendship.

He taps your shin with his foot. “You know, you’re cute when you lie.”

Your breath hitches. He smells like leather and pine, and he’s tall and broad and warm, and if you leaned into him just a little, you know that some of your tension would at least melt away.

“Really, Eddie. I’m okay.” You smile, squeezing his hand.

You retract it quickly, Eddie stiffening when Carol saunters past you, accidentally tripping over Tina’s leg to bump into you with a sickeningly sweet, “sorry, honey.”

Your first instinct is to push her right back. You’d love nothing more than to pull out a chunk of her hair after what she and her asshole friends did to you. You’re smarter than that, though—she’d paint herself as the victim and you’d end up in detention with a serious mark in your permanent record.

You roll your eyes, muttering a defiant, ‘bitch’, under your breath.

“What was that about?” Eddie asks, jerking his chin towards Carol and Tommy.

“Nothing.” You clip.

He narrows his eyes expectantly, giving you yet another opportunity to reveal to him what he already knows.

Around a month ago, after a fight at a party, Steve had ended up crashing at Eddie’s for a few days after being arrested—courtesy of his ex best friend Tommy crying over a busted lip. Hopper had reassured Steve it was for appearances, that he’d be free to go as soon as his dad picked him up, secretly knowing that Tommy had most likely deserved the right hook.

Mr. Harrington though, had kicked Steve out after making his bail. It was then Steve had told Eddie about the incident at the party, about how Robin had called him absolutely furious after Tommy had tried to force himself on you.

He’d gotten a knee to the balls from you, Robin and Nancy piling on, and a right hook from Steve, but the damage had been done. By the next morning, Tina and Carol had worked their magic, branding you as the whore who tried to steal Carol’s boyfriend.

Eddie watches Tommy and Carol keenly now, an expression on his face that you’ve come to see more often recently. It’s as though the warmth drains from his eyes, leaving behind an unfeeling presence before he snaps back.

The warmth returns to his eyes as quickly as it disappears, working its way to you as if by an invisible line. “You can tell me.” He says softly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Your chest constricts. “Eh. Apparently, I’m a whore. It’s whatever.”

His jaw ticks again. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re about as pure as they come.” He marvels, gaze lingering on your lips. His hand absently brushes some hair behind your ear, and he freezes, letting it hang awkwardly.

You huff, slapping his wrist away. “Okay. Yoda? You sound like an idiot. This isn’t the 1800’s—women have and enjoy sex, you know?”

He snaps back into his detached ruse, leaning against the locker to play with his rings. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, suggestive lilt to his voice.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me more about that?”

“Dude, you’re nasty.”

“Maybe.” His eyes darken before he inhales deeply. “Listen, I got a free period, so I’m gonna run. I have a business meeting that is most urgent and requires my utmost attention.”

“Eddie-“

He’s already walking away, his broad back heading for the doors at the end of the hall. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll be back by lunch, Sweetheart.”

You smile to yourself and reach back into your pocket, having temporarily forgotten about your present. You wish you could hold onto that feeling of safety and happiness that Eddie gives you a little longer, bottle it up and use it for when your anxiety reaches its peaks.

Being around Eddie always has that effect on you, try as you might to push it down.

——————————————————————————

“Turn on the news.” Nancy hisses through the crackly phone. “Now!”

“Christ, Nance. Do you even know what time it is? It’s barely light outside.” You grumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Forget about the time, just turn on your TV!”

“Okay! Okay, gimme a second.” You groan.

You rush downstairs for the TV remote and flick through the channels until you get to the news. On the screen, police and ambulance sirens paint the scene red and blue, police tape cordoning off a house just a few blocks from yours. You turn the volume up and catch the last few words from the reporter.

“—Tragedy rocks Hawkins once again, as the bodies of two teenagers, Carol Perkins, and her boyfriend Thomas Hagan were found butchered in the early hours of this morning.”

The words go off like a bomb in your ear, the floor giving out from under your feet as you slump down on the sofa, shakily clutching the remote.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, holy fucking shit.” You murmur.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

Your voice sounds tinny when you speak. “They were murdered?”

“Butchered.”

“God, I know I said I wanted to see her head on a spike but this is awful. I can’t believe somebody would do that.”

A shiver runs down your spine at your proximity to the victims—despite your vitriolic hatred for the both of them, Carol and Tommy are—were—people you saw everyday. You can’t say anybody deserves to be butchered.

“Can you meet Robin, Jonathan and me at my place in an hour? We’re gonna go get some answers.” Nancy asks.

“Isn’t that a reporter’s job? Or the PD?” You ask, alarmed.

“I wanna major in journalism, that basically makes me half a reporter already. Just meet at my place in an hour. Bring sensible shoes.”

Any room for negotiation goes out of the window as the line goes dead. You set the now clammy phone down on the hook and stay rooted in spot, staring blankly at the TV as the news reel plays out in the background.

“—Police and Fire were called to the scene at around 3:00am when Perkins’ parents arrived home to a fire. Upon their arrival, they found their home in disarray and the two teenagers dead. Hawkins PD are still combing the scene for evidence and are expected to make an announcement later this evening. One thing is for sure though, it seems that death and tragedy are never too far where Hawkins is concerned.”

You’d completely forgotten about the dark cloud that had been looming over Hawkins this past year. These new killings seem especially insidious with the anniversary of Chrissy Cunningham’s death approaching in just a few days.

Becoming cognizant of Chrissy, you want to reach out to Eddie to ask him how he’s doing following this news. You’ve no doubt that this time of year is likely to dredge up some horrific memories for him—it’s only been a year since he was labelled as the town pariah—ostracised through no fault of his own.

This won’t help.

He’ll be subjected to looks in the street again and whispers as he walks by, as though he’s a stain on the town. He’ll be scapegoated. Again.

You want to reach out to Eddie for him, sure. But there’s also a selfish undercurrent to your thoughts; Eddie’s an increasingly comforting figure in your life and you need him to knock you back on track, especially if Nancy’s going to be critiquing your journalism skills this morning.

A hit of something to get your head right.

You hit three on your speed dial, put the coffee on while the line rings and make your way upstairs.

His voice crackles through the phone and has the strangest effect by offering you almost-immediate relief. “Who the hell is this?” He grumbles, voice thick with sleep.

It makes your heart pick up pace.

You stifle a laugh. “Eddie, it’s me.”

He moans, and you picture him with mussed hair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His voice is still thick when he talks; though, much less irritable this time. “Mornin’, sunshine. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m guessing you didn’t see the news?”

“Nah. Not yet at least. Late night. What’s going on?”

“It’s Carol and Tommy. They found their bodies this morning, they were killed.” You whisper the last part in a hushed tone, like verbalising it will somehow bring the curse to you.

“Wait, what did you just say? They were murdered?” You hear rustling on the other end and assume Eddie’s making a mad dash to the living room in his boxers to turn on the TV. “Do they know who did it?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not yet—“

“—Hey, man. Turn that up?”

You pause in your doorway, brows furrowing. “Who are you talking to?”

“Harrington—he got into another pissing match with his dad a few nights ago, told him he could have the couch while Wayne was at work.”

“Christ, dude. They’re saying they were butchered.” Steve says, muffled in the background.

You straighten the edges of your bedsheets and start to pick out the sensible shoes Nancy requested, zoning in on another pair you’ll inevitably have to loan to Robin.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, I thought you already knew. I just…wanted to check in.”

Eddie pauses before he speaks hesitantly. “Check in?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s coming up to a year since all of that stuff happened, and I can’t imagine this is gonna be easy for you, y’know? I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A surge of warmth spreads inside him. Rarely does he feel truly content or peaceful, especially as of late; he has enough emotional baggage to last a lifetime. But he does feel blessed to have sporadic moments of lightness—short—but always with you.

“You sayin’ you care about me or something?” He murmurs, no doubt careful to avoid Steve’s ears but you can hear the smile in his voice.

You snicker, your eyes falling to your slightly open underwear drawer. You go to close it with an absent-minded push of your hips when your eyes catch something.

Your heart plummets like a lead weight, a shot of dread piercing your chest.

“Hello? You there?” Eddie calls out, but your hands are trembling.

Stuffed in your underwear drawer, deliberately wrapped inside a pair of white cotton panties, is another black dahlia.

“Eddie, I’m gonna have to call you back.” You squeak.

His voice shifts. “You okay? Something wrong?”

“Fine. I’ll talk to you later.” You clip, the phone landing with a thud against your mattress.

You reach for the flower, gingerly unwrapping it from the white cotton only to reveal a small note tucked under the stem. Nausea claws at your stomach and invades your throat, leaving your head tingly and eyes spotty.

Black sharpie against red paper reads;

“The things we do for love. Be seeing you soon, my flower. I have some business to take care of first.”

It's as direct a threat to you as you’ve had so far, but there’s an insinuation there too. An icy thought sends chills through your veins. You may be responsible for Carol and Tommy’s deaths which is in itself a steel weight, but this note doesn’t indicate any sign of the violence stopping.

If anything, it connotes the opposite.

You can’t explain the paranoia and the flowers away, can’t live in the content grey safety of denial anymore. He was here.

In your room. Rifling through your underwear drawer. Watching you sleep.

Could he have touched you?

Are you the business he has to take care of?

Your stomach rolls, and you run to the bathroom to empty your guts into the toilet, gagging until the remnants of last night’s barely-there-dinner are gone and you’re shivering and cold on the tiled floor.

You’re hit with the feeling of somebody watching you again, pressure tugging at the back of your neck like tiny threads under your skin. Your eyes dart out of the window but you don’t see anything.

Or anybody.

You never do.

——————————————————————————

Your investigation with Robin and Nancy turns up nothing except more disturbing information, which you grimly conclude could well predict your own demise. You’re running on fumes, paranoid and scared for your life, the walk up the stairs to get into school seeming like a chore.

“Tommy went first.” Robin tells Eddie the following morning.

“What?” He asks, dodging Robin’s attempt to snatch the cigarette out of his mouth. She tries again, but he dodges again, manoeuvring you to walk between them.

“Yeah. We overheard Hopper and Callahan over the radio. He was shot in both knees first, tied to a chair, gagged, then stabbed. His insides…on the outside.”

Eddie’s face contorts, not so much in horror, but in mild disgust as he exhales a cloud of smoke. It seems Tommy had enemies in just about every circle except for his own; and despite your best intentions not to think it, you conclude that somebody finally decided to take matters into their own hands.

“And Carol? Stabbed in the back, chest, and neck. Gutted and tied to a tree. Can you believe that shit? This guy is serious.” Robin continues.

She’s managed to dig up a rubber band from inside her pocket and snaps it against her wrist, each slap against her skin housing a migraine deeper in your temple.

You wince.

“Careful, Buck. Almost sounds like you admire him. Besides, how do you know it’s a guy?” Eddie asks, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Statistics.” Nancy interjects, clicking her locker shut. “Violent kills are almost always executed by men. That, and the fact that it would take a pretty huge guy to hog-tie Tommy, and then string Carol’s dead body up on a tree.”

“Alright.” You feel nausea rising in your stomach again. Slamming your locker shut, you squeeze your eyes closed. “Can we not? I feel sick.”

“You look it.” Robin deadpans, raising her hands in defence when you, Nancy and Eddie cut her a look. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it in a you-look-awful way, I’m just saying you look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, gently turning your face to his. “Yeah. Have you been sleeping?” He asks, cigarette tucked between his lips. His thumb runs over the delicate skin under your eyes. “You look so tired.”

You tense up at the sudden contact from Eddie, who, despite being notoriously tactile, isn't somebody you’d ever describe as affectionate except maybe with Dustin and the kids.

You allow yourself a moment of weakness to melt into his touch, his warm skin and icy rings, but your eyes dart to Robin and Nancy who share a wry look. You become aware of the droves of people staring and whispering as they go by too, and suddenly your throat feels tight.

“I’m fine.” You clip, prying yourself away from his tender touch and he reacts by awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets, hurt by the sudden change.

He knows it’s because people are staring, he just hadn’t expected you to care. You can’t handle the eyes on you—not when there’s somebody breathing down your neck.

The rational part of you knows that it’s because you’re in such close proximity to Eddie, who’s been re-subjected to dirty looks and hostile whispers since Tommy and Carol died yesterday. It seems that despite his name being cleared in good faith last year, the people of Hawkins merely needed a reason to scapegoat Eddie again, all too quick to spit the words devil worshipper and cult leader his way.

Eddie brushes the looks off, his jaw tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing, shoulders tight like a coil as he takes a deep drag of his cigarette.

“Fuckin’ morons.” He mutters under his breath. “A serial killer walks the streets of Hawkins but sure…” He mock lunges at a group of lowerclassmen who flinch and disperse down the hallway, earning more looks from passersby. “Let's all gather around to stare at the freak.”

“Mr. Munson,” Higgins’ voice booms, his eyes falling to the cigarette in Eddie’s mouth. “You can either put that out, or I can put it out for you—and while I do relish in giving you detention—I no longer wish to see you roam these halls for yet another year. I’m frankly sick of seeing your face.”

“Oh believe me. The feeling’s mutual, asshole.” Eddie grumbles, a begrudging appeasement on his face. He theatrically plucks the cigarette from his mouth and puts it out against the metal rim of the bin behind you. “Guy’s a pain in my sack.”

Robin’s cackle is cut short when a sudden buzz crawls over the student body. It takes over like a swarm of bees, students yelling and clamouring in the direction of the football field. In the distance, you see Argyle and a pale Jonathan cut through the crowd, right as Mr Higgins receives a radio transmission and pushes through the horde himself.

You narrow your eyes, your group pulling Jonathan and Argyle to the side of the stampede. “What’s going on?”

“Dudes, they found another body.” Argyle tells the group.

The news hits you with the subtlety of a crashing train, leaving the words ricocheting in your ear. You fight to keep your composure, doing the maths in your head to figure out where on your shadow’s roster you fall.

“What? Who? Where? How? How do you guys know?” Nancy asks in rapid succession, grabbing Jonathan and Argyle with a hand each.

“I was walking down to take pictures out on the football field for the yearbook, and saw what I thought was a doll or a scarecrow or something. Just hanging from the goalpost.” Jonathan pants weakly.

“Yeah. Got closer and realised it was a real person. A lady.” Argyle adds, shaking his head.

Eddie huffs, leaning against his locker. “A lady?”

“Tina.” Jonathan corrects. “Somebody already tipped off the cops—Hopper pulled up right as we saw her body. She was in her pyjamas, you guys. All covered in blood.” He runs a stressed hand through his hair, bending to put his hands on his knees. “I think I’m gonna throw up.” He wheezes.

Argyle rubs his back sympathetically, while Nancy kicks herself into high gear. Rifling through her locker, she grabs her school newspaper notebook and best ballpoint pen—the kind she reserves for sleuthing and writing speeches—and turns heel.

“I swear, if you want something done right…” she mutters and she’s a flash of a perm as she scurries away, joining the now well-informed student body of the attraction outside.

The gaggle eventually dies down and gets filtered into the gym, squashed together like sardines in a can; some taking up the bleachers, some using the benches, the lowerclassmen claiming the floor as their sitting space.

Eddie tucks you into his arm on the sidelines where the rest of your friends sit in an effort to conserve space. He balances his copy of Lord of The Rings on his knee, the spine snapped, edges frayed and tattered, various motor oil stains soaked into the paper with rows and rows of annotations littering the page.

At best, it's well-loved—at worst, it’s unreadable—but it’s one of Eddie’s prized possessions and it shows.

Higgins’ voice through the speaker silences the hustle of whispering students, rumours and gossip dying down almost immediately.

“All classes are henceforth suspended until further notice. When prompted, please collect all important belongings from your lockers and proceed to leave in an orderly fashion. Police Chief Hopper also has an announcement to make—please remain where you are for now.”

Cheers for class suspension are cut short when Hopper swiftly implements a strict citywide 9:00pm curfew.

“Any citizens reported to be out after this time will be brought in by an officer and questioned before release. It is vital you heed this curfew as it has been put in place for your own safety. Please report any concerns directly to the Police Department or call 9-1-1. Thank you.”

A resigned groan makes its way through the crowd as students filter out, Tommy’s old friend group uncharacteristically quiet; haunted by the news. It tracks—the only discernible pattern so far is that the killer has a vendetta against their group of friends.

It’s your own entanglement that doesn't track.

“So. What’s the rundown?” Robin asks Nancy as you make your way down to the parking lot.

Nancy looks pale. “Tina was cut from chin to stomach through her nightgown.” She says, shakily. “But there’s more.”

Your blood runs cold. “More?”

“Yeah. It’s not confirmed yet, but I overheard Hopper telling Higgins they found another body this morning on the other side of town. They said the description matched Fred Benson.”

“The guy who did the student paper with you?” Eddie asks.

Nancy bristles. Her relationship with Fred had soured last year after he insisted on covering Chrissy’s murder, putting Eddie at the forefront. Nancy had refused—then fired him.

“Yeah.” She goes on. “Parents didn’t even know he was missing.”

Nancy’s words only stand to remind you that you too could be murdered and strung up like a carcass for the town to see—and nobody would be any the wiser until it was too late.

You should tell somebody. Anybody. But your mind stops you, a terrifying thought crossing your mind. Telling your friends could put them in danger too. Taking out entire friendship groups seems like a day’s work for this killer, and if anything happened to your friends, you’d never forgive yourself.

“I’m gonna wait for Will and the rest of those guys, make sure they’re okay, but we’ll reconvene at Nance’s?” Jonathan asks.

“Wait—you heard Hopper. There’s a curfew.” You say.

Nancy shrugs. “Safety in numbers. C’mon.”

Eddie pats your shoulder as he lights another cigarette. “I’ll catch up with you guys later—I left my briefcase inside. I’ll bring the beer to Nance’s.”

“Somebody’s gotta tell Steve, does he even know what’s going on?” You ask.

“I’ll take care of it.” Eddie says, voice thick with smoke. “I gotta swing by Family Video anyhow, it appears Keith is in the market for my recreational sleeping aids.”

Argyle gestures to Eddie who gives him the affirmative—and you shake your head. A serial killer walks the streets and your friends are making sure there’s enough weed at an unmandated ‘gathering’.

“Be safe?” You call out to Eddie.

He kicks his leg, gives you a mock salute. “Always am. You too.”

——————————————————————————

“Well. I’m just saying, y’know. There are certain rules when it comes to slashers.” Jonathan mumbles through a mouthful of chips.

“Is that what this is? A slasher?” Steve asks, adjusting in his seat.

The basement air smells like weed and cheap beer, the sourness of the salsa that Robin opened twenty minutes ago cutting through the stench. Your stomach is already in pieces with worry, talk of a slasher movie and the dank air does little to quell your nerves.

“Yeah. I mean. Think about it.” He munches. “You got a guy in a mask goin’ around, killing a bunch of teenagers, hanging them up on goalposts?”

Argyle’s content to listen, offering a grunt of agreement here and there, but he pipes up. “Yeah. Plus, y’know the whole haunted past in a small town thing. No offence, my dude.” He says to Eddie.

Eddie raises his brows, shakes his head. No harm done.

“So, these rules then. Let’s have ‘em.” Steve says. “What do you got?”

“Well. The first is that everybody’s a suspect. Everybody. That’s a given.”

“Yeah. No shit.” Steve nods, huffing a laugh.

Jonathan stands up, his eyes wide. “Now the rules to surviving a slasher movie—well. That’s a whole different ball game.”

“Go on.”

“Rule number one: never have sex.”

You catch Eddie’s eye from across the room. It’s something you’d noticed pretty much the day you met; oftentimes you’d be engrossed in something, or just happen to look up at Eddie to find him already watching you. His gaze makes your skin prickle with intensity, blood warming under your skin.

Despite being in a room full of people, your looks always seem like they’re reserved just for the two of you, an invisible string tying you to him and pulling you closer despite the physical distance remaining the same.

“—Big no.” Jonathan continues. “Sex equals death. Slasher and horror symbolism in general relies heavily on the innocent virgin as a survivor trope. Promiscuity guarantees death.”

Eddie’s gaze lingers on yours, his elbows perched on his knees, chin tucked into his chest. He looks good in this light, full lips casting a shadow, his eyes transfixed on you. You lose your nerve and look away, but can’t fight the desire to glance at him again.

He’s still watching you with almost drunken eyes that you attribute to the beer, though you know he can handle his alcohol.

“Number two: no drinking or doing drugs. It’s an extension of number one—the sin factor. It’s a sin!”

“Oh great. Guess we’re all fucked.” Steve mutters, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s bullshit, man. This isn’t a slasher and no serial killer is going to know if you’re a boring, sober, virgin.”

Eddie finally averts his gaze, picking at the frayed denim on his jeans. “Byers, you know I make my living supplying recreational substances to those in need.”

“—And Steve has deflowered every legal girl who likes men, all the way up to like, Fort Wayne.” Robin snorts, raising her drink.

“Well—not exactly.” Steve squints. “But they both make a good point. By your so-called rules, Byers; Eddie and I would’ve been the first ones to go.”

You shake your head, feeling a massive tangent coming and decide to cut out while you can. The thought of going home to an empty house fills you with dread, especially with the recent uptick in dead bodies. You can’t sleep, not when your ears pick up the smallest noises and twist them into sinister scenarios.

The wind howling through the gaps in your windows sounds eerily like somebody screaming, the floorboards settling make you see an intruder out of the corner of your eye.

You’re exhausted.

Nancy follows you upstairs, turning you by your arm. “Hey, you doing okay?”

“Yeah. It’s a little much down there.” You inhale deeply now that the air is thinner and fresher.

“You know what they get like when they drink.” Nancy laughs. “Do you wanna stay over tonight? Robin was thinking about crashing and I don’t love the idea of you at home by yourself with everything going on. Just stay with me until your dad gets back.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you. “Actually, would you mind? I don’t really wanna be by myself.”

“Yeah!” She laughs. “Of course. I can take you to grab your stuff in the morning.”

“Thanks, Nance. I gotta double check the alarm and locks anyway, so I’ll go grab my things now.” You smile, turning to grab your keys from the bowl on the credenza.

“You sure? It’s late.”

‘Rule number 3,’ Jonathan continues downstairs out of earshot, ’never, ever, under any circumstances, say you’ll be right back.’

“It’s a few blocks away.” You reassure her. “I’ll be right back.”

——————————————————————————

Somebody’s watching you.

You feel a tug on the back of your neck when you get to the top of the Wheeler’s cul-de-sac. It becomes more insistent as you turn left on to a densely tree-lined street, which, dimly lit as usual, is eerily silent. With the exception of you and your friends, it seems the residents of Hawkins are abiding by Hopper’s mandate.

You brush the feeling off and slide your keys between your fingers, picking up pace. By the time you get to your driveway, your heart is in your mouth and you’re almost at a full sprint, nearly slipping on the corner of a flowerbed.

You’d devised a plan on the way home.

Check the alarms, downstairs windows, upstairs windows, grab your bag from the closet in the hallway and pack as you go. Simple enough.

But somebody’s watching you.

Your trembling hands make you fumble and miss the lock a few times, the key bluntly jamming against the metal. You’re finally in, about to twist the lock when a hand aggressively swipes at your arm and drags you backwards.

You yelp, stomach swooping in pure terror, blood pounding in your ears.

He’s here.

You come face to face with a bloodshot Jason, whiskey heavy on his breath. He looks desperate and frenzied in just a pair of chinos and a white polo—it’s freezing out. His presence offers you an odd sense of relief, you can tell from his appearance he’s not about to hurt you and he doesn’t pose any immediate danger.

He seems scared.

He pulls you in close, his vice grip making your skin pinch.

“Let go, Jason. What the hell is wrong with you, why are you outside my house?”

“I came to warn you.”

“Warn me? About what?!” You snap.

“About the company you keep.” He slurs darkly. “You’re not new anymore, but you weren’t here when it went down. When Chrissy died.”

You squirm, attempting to free your arm, but Jason’s grip is vicious in his trance-like state. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

He’s here physically, but his mind is elsewhere. “It’ll be a year tomorrow. And it’s like she was never here. Like she never existed.”

Your heart sinks for him, a loss so large, so young is sure to rock anybody. But you know the other side of him—the side that radicalised half the town into hunting down Eddie. That almost killed Lucas and Erica when they tried to help.

“Look. Jason. I’m sorry about what happened, but that doesn’t explain why you’re grabbing my arm.” You grunt, trying to break free. “What does this have to do with me?”

He jostles you, shaking you hard enough that the pain radiates up your arm like a vine. “Everything! This has everything to do with you! Your friend? Eddie? I know they cleared him, said that he had nothing to do with it, but I know the truth. I know what he is.” He says, words dripping with disdain.

In a surge of defensiveness, you drag the serrated edge of your keys across his skin, drawing a little blood.

“You bitch!” He sneers, snatching his hand away. “You’ll regret that. You’ll regret not listening to me. Don’t say I didn’t warn you; don’t say I didn’t tell you what he was!” He angrily stalks off, disappearing into the tree line.

When you’d first moved to Hawkins, rumours of golden girl Chrissy dying at the hands of a satanic cult had intrigued you. Dustin had filled you in on the rest and after meeting Eddie and the rest of his innocent D&D group, you knew those rumours were a work of fiction.

“Hey!” Eddie shouts from a few feet away. He gestures in the direction of the tree line. “Was that Jason?”

“Yeah.” You mutter, gingerly touching your arm.

Eddie closes the last few feet between you, jogging to you as you open your door. “What did he want?”

“Said he saw me walking home, wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Eddie looks at you incredulously as he steps inside. “Looked intense, you okay?”

“Yeah. All good.”

Eddie’s eyes fall to the raised welts on your forearm, your hands paler from the lack of blood flow. He gently holds your wrist and brings it up to the hallway light to examine the marks.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” You sigh resignedly. “He was drinking, and he said some stuff about Chrissy’s death anniversary, I think he was just… a little out of it. Got a little overzealous.”

“Overzealous?” Eddie asks, getting closer to you. “He left a paw print. Y’know I swear, guys like him think they can get away with anything—“

“—Yeah. But I’m fine, Eddie. It looks worse than it is.” You place your hand around his and squeeze reassuringly. “Really. I’m okay.”

“You sure?“

“I swear, Eddie. I’m all good.”

Your peripheral suddenly plays a cruel trick on you, making you jump at the impression of somebody in the kitchen.

Eddie finally lets go of your hand, laughing at your reaction. “You okay? You’re really jumpy.” He asks, rubbing your shoulders as you walk into the kitchen.

“There’s a serial killer in town, Eddie. Why aren’t you jumpy?” You deadpan. “Is that why you’re here?”

He chuckles self-effacingly, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah. Nancy told me you took off to grab your things and I didn’t want you to have to walk by yourself with all that stuff.” He stops you from reaching for the window with a hand on your hips, walking around you instead. “Here, I got it.”

He extends his lean body to twist the window handle, his t-shirt riding up to reveal his toned abs. Red welts—scratches—mark his stomach and a twinge of jealousy creeps up your chest when you think about how he may have gotten those marks.

“Hey!” Eddie says, snapping his fingers. “Where do you keep goin’, you good?”

Embarrassment warms your cheeks, snapping you back into reality. “Of course. I have my knight in shining armour, don’t I?” You say sardonically, rounding the island to go upstairs.

You’re halfway through the hallway before you realise you’re not being followed by Eddie; he’s since taken to standing in the doorway with a look that you can’t read.

“What is it?” You ask.

He slowly steps towards you. “I know you’re kidding, but for what it’s worth—you never have to worry about that stuff when you’re with me.” He says softly, his voice thick. “You’re always safe with me. I hope you know that.”

You share a look in the dimly lit hallway, and you don’t know what this thing is between you—the thing where you know each other best, and look out for one another, and make one another feel safe, but where touches and looks linger for longer than they should.

You don’t have a shadow of a doubt colouring your answer when you reply, knowing wholeheartedly that you believe it.

“I know.”

When you get back to Nancy’s though, the night has taken a turn for the worse. The kids sit in the living room with the rest of your friends, everybody huddled up together around the TV as the breaking news reel plays.

“What’s going on?” You ask, setting your bag by the door.

“They found another body.” Steve tells you in a hushed voice, mindful of the kids but it’s useless—they’re watching the same thing you all are.

“Higgins.” Nancy explains, approaching you and Eddie. Out of earshot of the kids, she says, “they found him tied to the same goal post they unhooked Tina off of today. His eyes were gouged out and he was stabbed in the neck. He bled to death.”

Three victims. Three victims in one day.

Nancy mirrors that thought, but all you can think about now is how much longer you can outrun the shadow breathing down your neck, seemingly getting closer every day.

——————————————————————————

Breakfast is a bleak affair.

Mrs. Wheeler does everything to make sure you eat, encouragingly puts out a spread that most people dream of, while Mr Wheeler grumbles under his breath. You watch the boys, El and Max stuff their faces with pancakes, syrup dripping down their chins, but after the morning news, you can barely stomach anything.

Youre realising after watching the morning news, that it’s becoming a twisted kind of routine to wake up and expect the news of another murder.

Today’s victim: Andy Clayton.

Jason’s best friend and yes-man; found hacked to pieces, fibres of his letterman jacket found in his stab wounds from the brutal kill. You stick close to Nancy and Robin for the rest of the day, but when you come back from investigating, you find a chilling surprise on the Wheeler’s doorstep.

Nancy giggles and ducks inside with Robin, leaving you with your gift. Four black dahlias tied together with a length of twine, a note folded in half between the stems.

“I promise it won’t be much longer until we’re together, my flower. See you soon.”

Your head instinctually whips around, your eyes scanning the street, but it’s dead silent save for the occasional passing car. You turn back to the house, ice flowing into your veins as you realise you’re a sitting duck, and staying here would put everybody else in danger too.

The Wheelers, the kids, Robin.

You tuck the note into your pocket along with the four flowers and grab your bags, lying to Nancy that you’ll be back. Your first stop is going to see Eddie to ask for some company at the police station. You make the walk to your house, drop your bags in the trunk of your car and make the seven mile journey to Eddie’s trailer.

The sun sets on your way there, casting the sky in blooms of oranges and pinks, the landscape so much more vibrant in Hawkins than anywhere else you’ve lived. Eddie’s beat up van isn’t anywhere to be seen, but the lights inside his trailer are on, you knock once out of politeness and come in anyway after finding the door unlocked.

Not that Eddie ever remembers to lock his doors.

Inside, he’s still nowhere to be seen, the only thing interrupting the silence is the hum of the energy saver light bulb in the background and the sound of a dog barking outside.

“Eddie?” You call out, clicking the door shut behind you. “You home?”

You’re met with more silence.

You glance at the small clock above the hat-lined wall.

5:30pm.

Tentatively, you take a seat on the pull out couch that Steve and Wayne have taken to sharing by now, using the time you have to contemplate how best to broach the subject of your stalker with Eddie; where to start, how much to say.

Your legs start to tingle from nerves and pent up anxiety, forcing you to your feet.

You pace the length of the living room and to the kitchen and back again. Your stomach knots and unknots, a surge of nervous energy lodging in your throat and dissipating throughout your chest.

Absently, you walk into Eddie’s room—a bomb site on a good day. As you close the door behind you, something large and black swooshes against the hook, a large coat or a cloak of some kind, probably for his Hellfire Club meetings.

You should talk to Eddie about rebranding that soon.

You smile fondly as your eyes travel over his poster lined walls, the acoustic guitar perched in the corner, the magazines on top of his nightstand. The second drawer of his nightstand catches your eye, ajar slightly because of something caught between the drawer and the frame.

You look closer, eyes narrowing when you pull a length of twine out from the drawer. You examine it curiously, holding it up to the light when a thought occurs to you.

With a hesitant hand, you reach into your back pocket to pull out the dahlias you’d received earlier that day, comparing the twine to the one in your hand. Your brows furrow as you bring both pieces of twine together, joining the two diagonal edges to fit perfectly.

It’s a dead match.

You pull out his drawer in a daze, head growing fuzzy as you rummage through his things. It’s a coincidence—it has to be. There has to be an explanation.

Ice flows into your veins when you find five black dahlias tucked neatly into a roll of newspaper, red square note paper next to it. Your head rushes with blood, the room spinning as you try to somehow refute what’s in front of you.

This can’t be what you think it is. It can’t be.

You gag and run to the kitchen to empty your stomach in the sink. It’s fruitless, your stomach turning up nothing, leaving you to dry heave and clutch the counter.

No. No, no, no.

Your hands tremble, blood rushing in your ears and pumping through your body to drive you into high gear, to get the hell out.

You dart for the door, grabbing your bag and keys, and slam face first into a black wall, your hands taking the brunt of the impact, the shock forcing you back a few steps. Your bags and keys fall on the floor, the blood draining from your body when you look up at a cloaked figure with a white mask.

You tense up, making peace with the fact that this may be your end but still hold out a small amount of hope that it isn’t who you think it is behind the mask.

Then the figure speaks, says your name in that familiar way that sends shivers up your spine.

Eddie.

Your knees buckle and you trip backwards, the pressure inside your head increasing until you can hear a high-pitched whine. Shakily holding out your hands in front of you, you see them stained crimson, an unknown person’s blood licking your skin.

It’s the last thing you see before you succumb to darkness.

——————————————————————————

A horrible weight surrounds your head and there’s a ringing in your ears when you come to. It takes a few seconds for your mind to catch up, but when it does, you jolt in your seat, your movement restricted by something binding your hands and mouth.

You start to hyperventilate.

“Hey. Hey. Calm down.” Eddie says, crouching in front of your chair, sporting a busted lip, a bruised eye and bloody knuckles. “Fuck—Calm down, I need you to breathe, okay?” He rips the tape off your mouth and you struggle against the ties, but he pulls the chair in by its arms.“Hey! Breathe. C’mon—just match my pace, alright, you’re gonna pass out again. Fucking breathe.”

He exaggerates his own breathing rhythm now that you can see his chest in just his t-shirt to let your breathing fall into tandem with his. You let yourself breathe, focusing on the air expanding in your lungs, but terror still grips you.

Eddie watches you carefully, like you’re a cornered animal, his mask pulled up, hair matted to his forehead. “I’m going to cut you loose so we can talk, okay? M’gonna explain everything, but you can’t run. Can you do that?”

Images of Carol and Tommy, Tina, and the rest of his victims flash before your eyes. Eviscerated. Bludgeoned. Gutted.

You nod, not daring to look down knowing that the rope, the chair and your skin are stained with fresh blood.

“Good.” He breathes.

He brings a bloody hunting knife to your wrists, lodges the flat edge between you and the rope, and cuts upwards, slicing you free. You plant your shaky feet to test the waters, and launch yourself forward into Eddie’s chest, knocking him out of the way to start running.

“Goddamnit!” He grunts.

You make it a grand total of two paces before Eddie easily whips you around, pinning you against the wall. His nostrils flared, he reaches into his back pocket, brandishing the knife again. A scream dies in your throat as he places the glinting silver’s blunt edge against your neck.

“I didn’t want to use this. But I told you not to run, didn’t I? Didn’t I?!” His voice thunders inside the trailer, and you flinch backwards, hyper-aware of the knife at your throat.

The change in his demeanour makes you feel insignificant, like you never mattered to him. That realisation makes a lump catch in your throat. “You’re… you’re—“

He nods slowly, wide grin splitting his face. “Yeah. I am.” He replies mockingly, flipping the mask back on. “What did Jonathan say? Ghostface?”

A part of you thought—hoped—that he would try to deny it. You’d believe any explanation he’d give you if you tried hard enough, because accepting anything else would be easier than this.

Than accepting that your best friend is a serial killer.

“Jason… man, the bastard knows how to fight,” Eddie laments, licking his busted lip behind the mask. He clenches and unclenches his bruised hands, silver rings stained with blood. “Pulled my fucking cloak off and everything—but what are you gonna do? I had a knife. He didn’t. Bled out on my clothes but he knew it was me.”

You don’t want to hear this. You can’t hear this.

You look desperately for an escape, eyes darting until you spot something that makes your stomach swoop violently, grief ripping through you at the prospect.

Steve’s white Nikes, covered in blood.

You turn to Eddie shakily, eyes wide. “Did you kill Steve?”

He softens, trailing the knife over your cheek. You’re as still as you can be despite your body feeling like it’s vibrating, knowing too well that the smallest of movements could kill you.

“So sweet. So naive. My flower.” He whispers. “You think I strung Tina and Higgins’ big ass up on those goalposts myself?”

“No…. He—Steve?” You blubber, another wave of grief washing over you. You’ve just lost two of your best friends in the space of five minutes and you don’t have the time to think about the implications. You just need to make it out alive. “Why? Why did you do this? Why did you kill those people, Eddie?”

“Because there’s only so much a person can take. I mean, a year passed since Jason sicced his merry brigade of uptight Catholics on me. They all got to move on, get college scholarships, access to trust funds and opportunities to get out of this shithole. Me? I was gonna stay here and rot.” He seethes. “I tried my best to keep it under control. To push my urges down. But then I saw Carol bump you in that hallway, and I remembered what Tommy did to you at that party. That’s when I decided to end it.”

“How do you know about that?” You shudder.

“Harrington told me everything. Y’know for someone who secretly loves killing, he protested far too much in the beginning. Though, in his defence, I think he was a little cooked after the whole Russian torture thing. It was a perfect plan, really. I killed the people on his list—he killed the people on mine. Solid alibis. No connection.”

“I never asked for this. For any of it. You don’t get to pin your sick little indulgences on me, Eddie.”

He flinches, recoils at your words. “But I did it for you. To keep you safe. Why don’t you get that?!”

Salt falls from your eyes, trails down your face until your cheeks and neck are wet, a lump in your throat. “Are you going to kill me?”

He stares in awe at the pulse visible under your neck, lightly traces his knife over it. He may not even dignify your question with a response; all he would have to do is press in and you’d bleed out right on Mr. Munson’s orange carpet.

“I told you that you’re always safe with me, do you remember that?” When you ignore his question, he uses the knife to tip your chin up and takes the mask off. “Answer me.”

His eyes soften when he waits for you to answer, as though hanging onto your words for desperate validation. You get a glimpse of the Eddie you know—knew.

Your Eddie.

“Yes.” You reply truthfully.

“So how can you ask that? How could you possibly think I’d kill you?”

“Then why stalk me? Why send me the flowers—the letters—if I wasn’t next on your list?” You sob. “You must’ve known what I’d think, that I was scared. Why did you do that?”

“Because I love you.” He whispers reverently, closing in on you. His eyes soften, and when he says those four words, it’s Eddie. Eddie, despite the blood spatter on his neck and arms. It’s why it takes your breath away, because you can’t disregard it as the ramblings of a madman.

There’s some truth to it—even if it is sick.

And you hate yourself more for wanting him.

He sheaths the knife in his back pocket, closing the distance between you. “Do you have any idea…how long I’ve wanted you? How I’ve had to keep tabs on you from afar because I was afraid of what you’d think about me? I’ve wanted you since the day you moved here, way before we ever even met.”

You hate him. You hate yourself. You hate this.

Your palm makes a cracking sound against his cheek, leaving a blooming red mark on his face. “I hate you.”

His lips brush against yours. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I fucking hate you, Eddie. You broke my trust.”

“I know.”

Your fists beat down on his chest and arms, throwing punches against a solid chest. He grunts and takes the brunt of your beat down silently, your palms picking up the blood from his soaked t-shirt. It’s only once you’re reduced to tears that he stops you, encircling both of your blood-stained wrists and pulls you close to his chest.

“I hate you.” You repeat in a small voice.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking down at you.

He looks more like himself now, the version that makes you laugh, and loves to read, and has a rich imagination. The Eddie who makes your breath catch in your throat. His gaze is heated, loaded with the challenge of your hatred for him, as though he’s waiting for you to prove it.

His lips are plump and red, the divot on his chin pronounced.

“You really hate me?” He whispers. “Because I’ll let you go. You can go to the police, have me arrested, I don’t care. I just want you.”

You launch yourself at him, crushing your lips against his for a burning, all-consuming kiss. Your knees buckle at the long-awaited contact, his lips full and soft, yet demanding when they slide over yours, capturing your mouth with a bruising intensity. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to him so forcefully that it makes you mewl, the soft contours of your body moulding against his harder ones, blood soaking into your pale pink dress.

You pull away, panting for breath. “I hate you.” You chant. “I hate you. I hate you.”

He kisses you harder.

Your hands tangle in his hair as his lips devour you, hungry tongue meshing with yours. He moans in pain when you suckle his bruised bottom lip, the sound going straight to your core. He frantically reaches to touch as much of you as he can, presses his body against yours to make your chest heave with pleasure.

You pull away, looking at him hesitantly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He pleads, voice cracking. “Don’t look at me like you’re scared of me.”

“I am scared, Eddie.” You whisper, a tear escaping your eye.

“I’m sorry, baby. I meant it when I said I’d never hurt you. I just wanna take care of you. Make you feel good the way you deserve. Will you let me do that? Can I show you? Please?”

Despite your fear, you’re warming to the idea that he’s still the Eddie that checks on you in the middle of the night, the Eddie that once drove an hour at 3:00am to pick you up from a party.

You swallow. “Yes.”

His warm eyes sparkle, capture your lips in another heated kiss. He moans desperately into your mouth as your lips slide over one another, panting as he firmly runs his hands up your hips, trailing up your ribcage and to your arms. He pins your hands above your head, stretching your body out and shoves his knee between your legs.

You break away from his mouth in pleasure, the coarse denim of his jeans rubbing against your panties. Your mouth falls open, head lolling back against the wall.

“Oh, you needed this, huh?” He says darkly, rocking his knee between your legs. “You like me. And you hate yourself for it.”

You chase his mouth but he dodges, a wicked look on his face. You fist your hands in his shirt collar and pull him down to capture his full lips between yours again, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Eddie groans, his mind immediately jumping to how you’re capable of drawing blood for him too, even if it is his own. His cock twiches. “That’s my fucking girl.” He murmurs, dragging his thumb against his lip to wipe the blood. “You’re not as innocent as you look, huh?”

You wrap your hand around his large wrist, bring his hand to your own mouth to smear his blood on your lips. His eyes gleam, cock painfully hard. Your gaze falls to his lips, bruised and bleeding, blood in his mouth and on his chin.

“Go ahead.” He smiles knowingly.

You let the tip of your tongue trace the blood on his chin and lick upward until you trace the seam of his lips. He swallows your next breath with a bruising kiss, your lips coming together in a frenzied, sick heat, the taste of copper and warm blood coating your tongue.

He squeezes your hip with a large hand, brings you down to grind against his knee, the act debasing but you don’t care. Eddie makes you crazy, his broad build, his possessiveness; his dark side.

“C’mon. Let me see that pretty face when you cum. Go ahead. Cum on my thigh like the sick little thing you are.” He murmurs, looking down at the mess you’re leaving on his jeans. He roughly forces you to look down, his hands framing your face. “Look at that. Look at the mess you’re leaving. Soaking fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you yet, do I make that cunt leak, baby? That all for me?”

“Yeah, Eddie. For you. For you.” You chant.

“Atta girl. Cum for me now. Cum on my thigh.” He coos, rocking his leg up into you. “Let go, c’mon.”

The coil in your stomach wraps tighter around itself, Eddie’s rough words making you throw your head back in a silent moan as you finally come undone. He holds you close to him, an arm around your waist to help you ride out your orgasm, your arms around his shoulders, held in a tight embrace as he continues to grind his knee into your pussy.

“Oh that’s it, that’s my pretty fucking girl. So good for me, doing exactly as I ask you. So fucking good, baby. Just breathe—you got it. Good girl.”

His words somehow prolong your orgasm, your pussy convulsing around nothing, until all you can do is dig your nails into Eddie’s shoulders and cry.

When you come down, you’re languid, but renewed, wanting more. Both of your eyes are blown, heady with lust, and Eddie brings your mouth back to his, unable to stay away.

Cradling the back of your head, he licks into your mouth and you angle your head to kiss him deeper, hungry for more as you mewl into his mouth, scrambling against the wall. You tug at his t-shirt, pull him closer by his belt loops, and he moans at your show of control.

Sinking to your knees, you keep your eyes up and on Eddie as you watch him register your movement, his brows furrowing with exertion. He plucks his blood-soaked t-shirt off his body, drops of crimson staining his abdomen and his hands now.

You look up at him with wide eyes. He’s intimidating from this angle, tall and broad, but still lithe; ink and blood covering his pale chest and arms. You trace the scratches on his lower abdomen, shivers erupting on your skin at the realisation of how he really got them.

You kiss the still-red marks, tonguing over his v-line and lower abdomen, bluntly scratching at the smattering of hair that leads below his jeans.

He cups your chin tenderly, leaving behind blood. “Tommy begged for his life. Begged me not to kill him, but I did anyway. Made him bleed out right by the pool while Carol watched. For what he did to you.”

You should hate this. You should get off your knees and leave. But you can’t. Not when you’re one orgasm deep and you’re wet between the legs. Not when you’re about to worship this man.

You kiss his hand, then his stomach, leaving a trail of wet kisses over his abs, tracing the tip of your tongue over the red scratches. You move over, scratching your nails down his stomach to mirror the other side, leaving angry red marks.

Why should Carol be the only one to get to mark him?

He hisses through his teeth, hands hovering over your head hesitantly as you lick over the fresh marks with more kisses. “What? You jealous?” He laughs.

You answer him with another swipe at his v-line, red claw marks imprinting on his skin. The tent in his pants begs to be touched, and when you rub over his hard cock through his jeans, his thighs tremble.

“Can I suck your cock, Eddie?” You ask innocently. “Please?”

“Jesus fuckin—“ He grits out, bracing against the wall in front of him. “Go ahead, baby. Take my cock out, lemme feel your mouth.”

You bite back a smile at his eagerness as you undo his belt, shakily pulling down his jeans and boxers together to free his cock. You swallow, your skin heating at the sight of his cock; average length but the girth takes you off guard, his tip red and leaking pre cum.

He looks at you knowingly, like he knows he’s going to destroy you when the time comes, but until then, he’s going to bide his time with your mouth. He groans breathily when you stroke the length of him, using both hands to twist and pull, goosebumps erupting on his skin.

“Shit, shit, shit. That’s it. Squeeze a little tighter there—ah—fuck. Oh, that’s it, baby.”

You sweetly suck on his tip, licking up his pre cum. Eddie’s abs twitch when your tongue swipes over the vein on the underside of his cock, and you make a mental note to tease him with that. His hips jerk forward on instinct, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth, his hands hovering over your head.

“Like that, Eddie? Am I doing a good job?” You ask, kissing his tip.

“Yeah, baby. Such a good job like I knew you would. Need a little more.”

You work way down the shaft, laying wet, open mouthed kisses on his heavy cock, languidly slapping his tip against your tongue. Eddie’s chest flushes with exertion. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, his expression darkening when you take his hands and direct them to your head, silently asking him to take control.

“Show me what you want, Ed. Do it exactly how you wanna.” You murmur letting his cock slap your tongue.

You stay like that; mouth wide and tongue out for him to take the lead. A splitting grin takes over his face as he nods, gently gathering your hair on top of your head.

“My best girl.” He whispers.

He thrusts into your mouth slowly at first, tentatively testing the waters, but as your warm, wet mouth invites him in for more, his thrusts get deeper and more aggressive. Tears prick your eyes as his thick cock reaches the back of your throat with each rough thrust, his hands pulling your head forward.

“Fucking Christ, your mouth. So pretty with your lips stretched out around my cock, on your knees for me.”

You nod as he punctuates his sentence with a harsh thrust that makes you gag around him, and you feel him twitch in your mouth, spit and precum messily trailing down your chin, covering his balls and thighs in a slick sheen.

He wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah… you’re my filthy little girl, aren’t you? Love taking my cock any way I’ll give it to you, huh?” He lightly slaps your cheek, feels the vibration against his cock and throws his head back in pleasure, his hair a halo around his head.

“So pretty, so fucking pretty—my angel. My pretty little angel. A little wider—shit—just like that.” Eddie whines incoherently when you reach up and massage his balls, slick with your saliva while he holds you in place and fucks your mouth. “Thank you, baby—fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Tears stream down your face, but you’re drunk on the taste of him, your pussy throbbing with his words and needy voice. You’re galvanised knowing that on your knees, you’re capable of reducing a man as powerful and terrifying as Eddie to this.

A whining, whimpering, mess.

He withdraws from your mouth with a drawn out groan, his cock twitching in front of your face. You glance up at him, a flush spreading from the centre of his chest to his neck, his ears and cheeks bright red, lips swollen from biting them.

“C’mere.” He murmurs, dragging you up by your throat—not even with enough force to reduce your airflow—but as a possessive gesture, a means of control.

He disregards the mess on your face and kisses you in a desperate clash of teeth and tongues and heavy breaths, his cock pressing against your tummy. He swallows your moans and whimpers with a light grip on your throat as he takes the breath from your lungs.

“Let's get you off your feet, what do you say?” He rasps.

You nod, hooking your arms around his neck as he sweeps you off your feet, dark gaze burning yours. He throws you on his creaky mattress, leaving you to crawl upward as he stalks towards you like you’re his prey.

Shoving your knees apart, he strokes your calves, laying gentle kisses on your now sore knees. “You trust me?”

You take a beat, making sure to run the scenarios through in your head. “Yes.”

He reaches for a knife from his bedside table, and your skin turns red hot, equal parts desire and terror mixing like a cocktail under your skin.

“Eyes on me, okay? Just relax.” He coos, kissing your forehead. “Not gonna hurt you.”

He settles between your legs, and despite you being the one fully clothed out of the two of you, you feel vulnerable but safely kept. He scrapes the blunt edge of the knife gently down your neck, circling your pulse point. It scratches against your collarbone as he continues its descent down in your skin.

You close your eyes as he hooks it around the neckline of your dress, and you feel him stall, remember his words.

Eyes on me.

“Good girl.” He breathes when you force yourself to look at him.

With a sharp tug of the knife, he cuts a jagged line down the centre of your dress, starting at your neckline and ending just above your belly button. You startle at the sudden movement and jump slightly but a hand on your hip holds you down. Slowly, he takes the two halves of the dress and rips with his bare hands all the way down until it falls open at your sides.

“Jesus Christ, you’re perfect.” Eddie rasps, trailing the knife back upwards.

“Don’t tease, Eddie.” You whine, shivering at the cold.

“Patience, my flower. I like to draw things out.”

You stiffen, the reminder of his extra curricular activities reminding you of who he is. He dips down and places a sweet kiss on your lips to absolve you of your worries, then with a tattooed hand, drags the knife between your breasts, then to the left. The sheets in your hands are the only traction you have as he circles your nipple with the knife, flicking the bud with the metal.

“One wrong move…” he reminds you. “One wrong move, and this could end terribly for you, couldn’t it?”

You whimper, nodding.

“Good thing you trust me. Better thing that I love you.”

He trails it down your stomach, watching the goosebumps appear on your skin as he travels south, the muscles under your skin jumping at the touch. The cold metal reaches your panties, scraping over your covered mound, and despite the imminent danger, you feel yourself dripping for him.

“You’re doing really good, baby. Proud of you.”

He goes further still, careful to always use the blunt edge of the knife, but with the weapon out of sight, you’re forced to hyper focus on the sensation, figure out which part is where. You cry out when the cold metal bumps against your puffy clit through your panties, your hips bucking.

Eddie laughs throatily, a wide grin on his face. “Oh, was that good? You liked that, didn’t you? My depraved little angel.”

“Yes, Eddie. Please, I need more.”

“That’s right, you do. Well done.”

You feel tension against the waistband of your panties before it snaps, your panties cut off at the legs. Eddie pulls you up roughly, dragging your panties off you and leaving you fully exposed and open to him. Gathering them in his hand, he brings them to his face, inhales deeply as his eyes roll back into his head.

”Fucked my hand over n’ over again with the panties I took from you. Wrapped around my cock pretending it was you, whispered your name when I came. You know that?”

His words make you squirm and he laughs knowingly. Gripping your chin gently, he tells you to open up so he can slip your panties into your mouth. The salty sweet taste of you floods your mouth, your slick coating your tongue and the cotton.

“You keep nice and quiet for me, I swear I’ll make it worth your while, baby. Can you be good for me?”

He’s in control and he knows it and it makes you writhe in pleasure. You nod eagerly, pussy fluttering at the prospect of what he has planned for you.

He slaps your cheek lightly again. “Good girl. Nice and quiet, yeah?”

He yanks you to the edge of the bed by your ankles and brings your legs to wrap around his waist, turning you as he lays on his back, moving up the bed.

“C’mon, baby. Come sit on my face, gimme that pretty pussy.”

You hesitate, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but he takes your hands in his, pulls you forward until you're straddling his waist. “C’mon. Let me taste you, baby. Please?” He coos.

Hooking two arms around you, he moves you up until you’re hovering above his face, the change in dynamic making your insides clench.

“Please, baby. Just wanna taste you. Please? Let me kiss that pretty pussy?” He whines, tugging on his cock.

You tentatively lower yourself onto his face, the only thing visible to you now, his upper face. He latches onto your pussy immediately, sucks your clit between his plump lips and your hips buck, trying to put some distance between you and the source of your pleasure. He moans loudly into your pussy, thick tongue and full mouth messily kissing your cunt, strong jaw anchoring you.

“Such a sweet fucking pussy, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me… could get drunk on the taste of you, so fucking wet, dripping down my face—my God.” He whines, hooking his arms around your legs to keep you flush to him.

Your legs tremble around his face—his face—blissed out and so full of concentration. You lean down and push the hair off his forehead, and he moans in pleasure, sucking your clit harder as you pull slightly on his scalp.

“That’s it, baby. Grind on my face, use my tongue. Make yourself cum for me, baby. Grind on me.”

Your heart beats erratically as you slowly work your hips in circles on Eddie’s face, moans and whimpers muffled by the panties in your mouth. His hands reach up to squeeze your tits, pinching your nipples almost painfully and pleasure sparks at the base of your spine.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Make me proud. Cum for me.” He encourages, flicking your clit with his tongue. The sound of Eddie’s mouth and your wet pussy fill the room as you chase your release, melting into him while pleasure washes over you in waves.

You cum with a silent scream, head thrown back and focus on the feeling of Eddie’s hands on your tits and mouth lapping at you. You come crashing down, electricity crackling at the base of your spine as you pull on Eddie’s hair.

You fall onto your hands with blood thrumming in every single nerve ending, your hair sticking to your neck with exertion. Eddie lays a messy kiss on your clit before lifting you off him and gathers you in his arms.

He checks your face for signs of concern, but you’re utterly blissed out. Unpicking the panties from your mouth, he wipes the saliva from your chin to kiss you. You’re boneless in his arms, trusting him to hold you up, sweaty body flush against his as his mouth moves over yours. He consumes your being, wanting you from the inside out, your entire body vibrating with need, more so when you feel his cock jump between your legs.

“You’re so hard, Eddie. So thick.”

He swears under his breath as you tug at his cock, heavy and warm in your hand. He grips your throat, a smile making its way onto your lips as he regards you with a knowing look.

A look that he knows you’re his. That you’re just as twisted as he is.

He spins you around, your back flush to his tattooed chest and grips your chin to make you look at yourself in the mirror in front of you. You stroke him languidly, feeling his sticky precum coat the tips of your fingers while his fingers spread your pussy lips.

“Look at yourself.” He urges, kissing your cheek. “Look at how wrecked you are, spread out and naked for me. Look at how good we look together, my flower. Look.”

The sight in front of you makes your knees buckle. Next to Eddie’s guitar, is your reflection, blissed out with your hair matted to your face, legs spread wide while Eddie’s ringed fingers rub your clit. Behind you, Eddie watches the reflection, his tattooed chest and abdomen littered with scratches and bruises.

Both of you are stained with blood, handprints marking your throat, your hips, your tits, actual remnants of a crime on your bodies, mixing with sex.

“Keep your eyes on that mirror, baby. Whatever you do, do not take your eyes off that mirror. You got that?”

“Yeah, Eddie. Anything you want.”

He lays a kiss under your ear to soothe the sting of two thick fingers plunging into your pussy, your head lolling back. The slick coating your thighs and pussy makes it easy for him to slide in, the sting soothed by the pleasure of him hooking his fingers inside you.

“Ohh, I know you like that, don’t you, my girl? That feels good inside my pretty baby��s pussy, huh? You wanna close your eyes but you can’t, can you?” He coos mockingly, lightly slapping your cheek. “No, you can’t. Because you said you’d do anything I want. So you’re gonna stay right here…and I’m gonna finger this pretty little cunt to get you ready for my cock.”

“Eddie…” you whine, palming his cock. “That feels so good, your fingers… so thick.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

He withdraws his fingers and plunges them deep inside you with each word, drawing out your pleasure like a length of elastic; tension building and building precariously close to a snap. The heel of his palm rubs against your clit as his pace increases, a furious work of his wrist leaving you hanging onto his arm for dear life.

“Cum, baby. Come on, gimme another one, I know you can do it. Do it for me, baby, let me feel you squeeze my fingers.”

“Gonna cum, Eddie…so close.” You whimper.

You watch his biceps flex and his shiny, slick covered fingers as you come undone. You’re decidedly full, but not full enough, fluttering around his fingers wildly as he talks you through your release. Your eyes go hazy with ecstasy as you fight to keep them open, to watch his onslaught like you promised you would.

“Good girl, good fucking girl. Pretty eyes on me, yeah? Just breathe baby, you’re doing so good. So fucking good squeezing me like that. So pretty.”

When your heartbeat comes down, he kisses your cheek, holding his ring and middle fingers up to the light, your slick stretching between his fingers.

He brings them to your mouth. “Suck.” He says simply, gasping when your tongue presses against his fingers to lick the taste of yourself off him.

“Sweet?” He asks.

You nod around his fingers.

“Well done, baby. We’re not finished yet, though.”

With a large hand on your upper back, he pushes you down into his pillows, the smell of him surrounding you like a haze. His sheets are rumpled, but a welcome reprieve, they smell like him and in a way, it’s like laying on him.

Eddie’s large hands angle your hips upwards just slightly, the rest of you still face down on the mattress. You feel the blunt head of his cock slide up and down your slit, your sloppy cunt making him slip.

A sharp crack lands on your ass, making you jump, the pain soothed by a cool relief as Eddie massages the skin, pulling at it posessively. He squeezes you hard enough to leave bruises but it only spurs you on, the sick thought of Eddie possessing you, marking you—owning you—makes you drip onto his sheets.

“Eyes on me, remember?” He rasps from the exertion of controlling himself. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

He braces himself over you with toned arms, his legs bracketing yours as he pushes the fat head of his cock inside you, agonisingly slow. His broad chest flushes a deep crimson.

You feel him slide right back out of you, and try again, his lips between his teeth. “God fuckin’ damn it, you’re so tight, pushing me right back out.” He pushes in again, and you watch him mesmerised. “Let me in, angel, c’mon. Let me inside you, gimme that sweet cunt. C’mon.” He grunts.

Every inch stretches you out, punching the air from between your lungs. You’re completely immobilised and at Eddie's mercy, trembling as he sheathes himself inside you.

You gasp when he buries himself to the hilt, impossibly full and dizzy with pleasure. “Oh my God, Eddie, that’s deep. You’re so fucking deep inside me—so fucking big.” You sob, fluttering around his cock.

He drops his entire body weight on you, pushing you further into the mattress, deliciously constricting your airflow. He pulls your arms out in front of you and interlocks his fingers with yours.

You feel his chest vibrate when he speaks, a deep, quiet rumble that kisses the shell of your ear. “Yeah? That deep enough for my baby’s pussy, hm? Stretch you nice and good?”

You watch the carnal expression on his face as he slowly starts to grind into you, the angle bumping that spot deep inside you that makes your clit jump. You’re sensitive and pliant under him but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in close and snapping his hips, muttering filthy words into your ear.

He pushes a thumb into your mouth. “Such a warm, wet, perfect cunt. The things I did for this pussy, to make you mine—God.” He grits. “You make me fucking crazy you know that? This pussy makes me crazy.”

Every inch of his body presses against yours, your skin moulding to his, sweat slicked and sticky, both of your thighs covered in your slick.

“Love your cock, Eddie. Love how you fuck me. Please, Eddie. Want more, please.” You whine, pulling his hair above you.

He builds his pace steadily, his hips snapping into your while he sets a brutal rhythm, pressing you further into the mattress. The hot friction of your nipples rubbing against his sheets and his cock set your skin on fire.

You barely register Eddie angle your hips up all the way before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you up—flush against him.

“That’s better. Look at you—fucking ruined on my cock, aren’t you? Who else can fuck you like this? Who else makes you this fucking pathetic and desperate?”

“Nobody, Eddie. Nobody. Just you, only you fuck me like this.” You choke out, legs trembling.

With an arm around your waist to keep you steady, he hooks the other around your neck, effectively putting you in a light headlock. You’re so close to your release, so dizzy with pleasure that you’re on the verge of passing out. Your head lolls against Eddie’s shoulder and your eyes roll back, your face a sight with fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

The lack of airflow increases the pressure inside of your body, fire pooling low in your stomach, making you drip .

“That’s it, that’s it, there you go, there you fucking go. You like it when I choke you don’t you, my filthy little girl. Gonna make you cream all over my cock, want it soaking my thighs and balls, baby. Give it to me.”

You can barely form words, settling for a litany of, “Yes, yes, yes. Right there, Eddie, don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop. Not until you’re crying. Now c’mon, gimme another one, let me feel this pretty pussy squeeze my cock, c’mon. Make me proud, pretty girl, cum for me.”

You hang on for dear life as he fucks you right into another orgasm, your legs trembling and pussy convulsing around him, but he doesn’t let up. Pounds you right through your orgasm, skin slapping against skin, finally letting go of your throat so you can breathe again.

“Good girl, good girl, good fucking girl, that’s it. There you go, just breathe—you got it. Just feel it, you got it, c’mon, keep going, keep going.”

White spots your vision as you ride out your orgasm and Eddie finally allows you to fall forward, draping his body over yours immediately. You pull at his hair to bring him closer, slowly grinding yourself against his cock as you come down, a panting, sweaty mess, drowning in bliss.

You angle your head to kiss him lazily, his lips leaving your mouth tingling, tongue licking into your mouth.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re really fucking intense, Ed?” You tease against his lips.

“Why? You hear somethin’?” He chuckles, kissing you deeply.

He pulls out of you, tugging at his slick cock as he turns you over onto your back. You’re both dishevelled, and desperate, chasing a higher and higher release.

You spread your legs and invite him to use your puffy, sensitive pussy, your thighs and hips covered in juices. He slides in easier this time, grinding all the way into the hilt so his pelvis bumps your clit, while his pick chain dangles in your face.

You whine, gripping the sheets for an anchor as he starts to drive into you with a rough snap of his hips.

“Eddie…” you whine. “Feel so good, so deep.” You whimper.

“Yeah?” He grins, dimple splitting his cheek. He presses his hand into your stomach, withdrawing his cock almost all the way out and slamming back inside again. “Right here? You feel me there? Nice and deep inside this pretty angel cunt, made for me to fuck, isn’t it?”

“Just for you, Eddie. Just for you.” You chant.

Your slick smears everywhere, coating Eddie’s lower stomach and happy trail, his pelvis and balls, everything a filthy, sticky mess and you’re in heaven.

You fist your hands into the pillow next to you, spot a flash of black and white. Pulling on the material, you reveal another mask, and your heart swoops nervously, your body stiffening.

“You’re okay, baby. Nothin’ to be scared of—here.” He reassures you, slipping the hood on. It takes your breath away, having to reconcile Eddie’s body with the mask, but when he grinds his cock deep inside you, you snap back. “Just me. Just Eddie.”

You reach for his shoulders and spread your legs to invite him closer, wanting to feel more of him. Eddie smiles behind the mask, knows the reaction you have to it—to him—to the implications. He hisses at the feel of your fingernails digging into his back, cock twitching at your possessiveness.

“You like that don’t you, baby? I know you like seeing me with the mask on, I can feel you fucking creaming on my cock. Makes you horny doesn’t it, knowing I killed for you? You’re twisted. Filthy.”

You whine for him incoherently, feeling the muscles in his back flex and contract as he fucks you deep and fast, his creaky bed matching his rhythm. The mask cuts off Eddie’s breathing, makes it hard to inhale properly but finally having you under him, writhing and moaning his name the way he’s dreamed of makes him whimper.

“Wanna see you, Eddie. Please. Wanna see your face.” You cry, reaching for his mask.

He dodges your hands, pins them above your head with his stronger ones. “Tell me you’re mine first.” He grunts. “Tell me you’re fucking mine.”

“I’m yours, Eddie. I’m fucking yours, I’m all yours.” You offer freely, squeezing his hands.

He slides the hood off, forehead shiny with sweat, bangs matted to his face as he drops his entire body weight on you, pinning your hands again.

“That’s right. Mine to touch. Mine to taste. Mine to fuck. All mine.”

You’re dizzy with pleasure, taking whatever he gives you, your pussy squelching with each brutal pass of Eddie’s thick cock. “All yours, Eddie.”

“Tell me I’m yours.” He pants needily, using his body to drive you forward.

“You’re mine, Eddie.” You sob, raking your nails violently down his back to prove it. “You’re mine. You’re mine, Eddie.”

His cock jumps inside you, both of you closer to your release. “That’s right. You could try to forget any of this happened. But we both know, baby. You love this too much.”

“God—Eddie. Please. Please, please…”

“Please what? You losin’ your words, now? So drunk on my cock filling you up, you can’t think straight?” He slaps your pussy lightly, clit puffy and sensitive.

He grips your throat, making your head fall back and tongue loll out of your mouth uselessly. In a moment of pure possession, he lets a trail of his saliva drip into your mouth, kisses you deeply and thoroughly until you’re seeing stars and on the precipice.

“Good thing I can think for the both of us, huh? Dunno what you’d do without me, my dumb little angel. Need me to protect you, don’t you? I know, baby, I know. I can give you what you need, don’t worry.”

You’re reduced to blissful silence as Eddie bridges the gap between you and your release, his own, right on the edge as well.

“Gonna come, Eddie. So close, please, please, make me cum. I love it, I love you. I love you. I love you—Eddie, fuck.” You sob, hanging onto his back, crescent shaped welts marking his skin.

“Gonna make you mine, baby. Gonna make all this worth it. All of it, just a little more, yeah?” He pants, rhythm turning sloppy.

“Yeah. Make me yours, Eddie. Please. Wanna be yours.”

He drops his entire body weight against you, your stomachs pressing together as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“Gonna cum inside this pretty pussy, baby. Make you mine forever, yeah?”

You nod, biting down on Eddie’s shoulder as you cum, locking your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper. You convulse around his cock, pulling him impossibly close. Eddie moans into your neck as he reaches his release, teeth sinking into the skin below your ear as he cums deep inside you, his balls nestled against your ass.

He thrusts shallowly inside you, shuddering as you both come down, sweating and entirely ruined. Brushing the sweaty hair off your face, he kisses you deeply, pulling away with dopey eyes.

“Proud of you, baby. You did really good. Thank you.”

Your eyes grow heavy, and you’re content to lean on him on the way to the cramped bathroom, have him wash the blood off both of your bodies. You register it against the white porcelain of the bathtub as it circles the drain.

It takes a few weeks and slowly but surely, Hawkins returns back to normal. A week-long procession of back-to-back funerals are grim, your guilty conscience making you sick, but the sicker part of you wonders what else you could have Eddie do.

Two weeks after Andy Clayton’s funeral, you sit in the backseat of Steve’s BMW and watch the houses go by. You narrow your eyes, tapping Eddie on the shoulder once the white house comes into view.

“That’s the house, Eddie.”

“You sure, Sweetheart?” He asks, squeezing your hand.

“Positive. Jenny told me she saw it happen, Father Elijah with that little boy.”

“Alright. You heard her, Harrington. Let’s go.” He inhales sharply, getting out of the car.

You join them outside, tugging on Eddie’s hands, stopping him as he goes to put his mask on. “You’ll be careful, won’t you, baby?”

“Always am.” He smiles, bending down to kiss you.

——————————————————————————

tags: @fezcoismypimp @urlocaltwink @cottoncandywings @stardancerluv @hoe-for-fictional-men @momsaysimpunkrock @southside-serpent-bae @umm-megan @cozyyellowcardigan @binanas @imasimptoowth @adamdrivershairfluffer @a-laura @rosecolorgardens

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson ff #eddie munson fics #ghostface eddie #amber writes

5K notes · View notes

eshayteaparty · 3 months

Text

The Helping Hands of your Tipsy Dads

~Fandom(s): Hazbin Hotel

~Warning(s): Swearing

~Ship(s): Huskerdust if you squint

~Word count: 1,600

Stars platonic preteen/teen reader !

~In which Charlie has given you homework to revise on to keep your mind sharp. even down here- and you’ve sat down at the bar between two residents of the hotel, one drunk, one clueless and not yet drunk.

-♥+♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥+♥-

It was late at night, and in the dimly-lit foyer of the Hazbin Hotel, you sat alone on a velvety stool with a crisp sheet of times tables in front of you, numbers of all sizes causing your vision to flick from left to right across the page. You were in hell- why you were being forced to continue your education in the bitter afterlife, you weren’t sure, but you were reluctant about it as any child your age would be, even if everything was clean. Charlie had tried to teach you for a while, but noting your scowl and silence, she had thrust a book into your hands and sent you on your way, leaving you stuck on the fifth question on the page of all- that being a world problem of triple multiplication. What made her think you would understand this?

The situation was even more ironic considering where you had chosen to sit. There wasn’t really anywhere to sit down and work on math problems in the hotel, let alone anywhere in hell, and choosing the bar felt like a joke in itself. Once you had sat down, Husker had eyed your work, but hadn’t attempted to assist you. Perhaps he was as shaken by your venomous glare as the princess of hell had been.

You were scribbling out bits of the writing on the paper as an act of rebelliance, when the door to the hotel swung open, making you shiver from the night air. In walks Angeldust, the hotel’s resident ‘celebrity’. You and Angel had seldom communicated besides the occasional greeting and him sometimes hoisting you up under your armpits when you got too close to something you shouldn’t and depositing you elsewhere- those interactions were often silent on his end, as well. You glance towards him, interested in anything other than the tedious task ahead of you. He looks a little…messy. Ruffled. He isn’t exactly secretive about his profession, and you’re not some innocent baby, so you know of what he does, but not what happens to him exactly.

He cracks his back, his lower pair of arms adjusting out his striped blazer, and comes right over to the bar as he always does after a rough shoot, greeting Husker with a blown kiss and sitting down a seat away from you, resting the elbows of his upper arms on the counter top.

“Summin’ strong, Whiskers.” he says, smoothing down his hair. “I’m drinkin’ to forget.”

As Husk sighs softly at the usual nickname and nods, turning away, Angel’s eyes are drawn onto you- sat there in your pyjamas, with a booklet in your small hands. His eyebrows pinch together.

“You’re not here to drink, are ya, tiny?”

You look up at him, then shake your head, looking annoyed. Angel is amused by your expression. “Well ya look like ya could use one, honestly. What’s that?” he taps your work book as you start to scowl all over again.

“Homework.”

“What? Homewo- we have schools down here??”

You shake your head, and your hand itches to vandalize the page in front of you. “No. Charlie told me I have to. I have to keep learning.”

Angel can’t help but snicker at your predicament. “Buzzkill. Well I'm okay in some areas, little buddy. Pass it over.”

You’re surprised, for a split-second. A porn star wants to help you do…math. Still, you’d do anything to get out of it, so you cap your marker and slide the sheet across the countertop to him. He reads it over, squinting- much to Husk’s amusement.

“Ehh…oookayy. Yeaah. I g….I get it. Kay, so…” he sets the sheet down again, switching seats to be closer to you. He taps the page again, getting your attention. “It looks like- oh, what the- dammit, toots. Why’d ya scribble all over the page, huh?”

When you don’t give him an answer, he looks up to Husk, sighing. “Fetch us a rubber, wouldya, baby?”

“I ain’t your slave.” Husker mumbles, but takes the rubber he uses to rid his notes on orders of mistakes and puts it on the table by your hands. Angel takes a hold of it, scrubbing the words and brushing away the shavings afterwards.

“Neat. Lemme see again.” he looks over the word problem, and starts to look just as confused as you. “This is- this is bull. What’s it even askin ya for?”

“I have to tell it how many biscuits are in the boxes.” you mumble, and hear Husker bite back raspy chuckles, with Angel struggling not to laugh as well. Your scowl deepens.

“B-biscuits?” Angel giggles, looking closer at the sheet. “Classic princess sunshine, huh? Okay, well…it says seventeen biscuits in each packet, and three in a- a box…what does that mean, toots?” he turns to you, secretly hoping you have the answer already. You don’t.

“How am I supposed to know?” you ask him, glaring down at the sheet again. “I don’t care about biscuits. They can figure it out themselves.” you reach forward to rip the sheet, before Angel takes your wrists in his hands, stopping you.

“Hold on, hold on, tiny.” he coos, trying not to laugh again. “It- it’s okay, alright? We can figure this out. So. seventeen- uh…seventeen in…three. Right? Wait, hold on…”

Husker snorts from behind the counter. “You suck at this, Angel.”

“Shut your pussy mouth.” Angel growls back, making you giggle out of shock. “You wish you could do math like me.”

You take your phone from your pocket, entering the problem into an online calculator under the table, hoping they haven’t just caught you cheating. “Got it.” you say, putting back your phone. “It’s seventeen times-”

“You little minx.” You’re suddenly pick-pocketed by Angeldust, making you internally curse yourself as he tsks at you. He dangles your phone above your head. “I have eight eyes, toots. Didya really think that would work?”

“I hate you.”

“Woah!” Angel laughs, and Husker even chuckles a little. “So vulgar, little young’un! What do ya think Charlie would do, huh?” He pokes up your sides with his lower pair of arms, making you squeal and giggle dumbly.

“Stop!” you push him away, embarrassed to have laughed. “You can’t even do it! There’s nothing left to do but cheat!”

“You make it sound like it’s the end of the world, piccino!” He affectionately ruffles your hair. “C'mon! Ya one of the only sober people here, ya got this.”

“That’s because they’re under eighteen, Angel.” Husker mutters condescendingly, making Angel scowl. Angel moves the sheet around, getting you to look at it again.

“Eyes on the prize, y/n. This’ll make you smarter than ever. Now do it off your head. Seventeen times three is..?”

You sigh, uncapping your marker and writing seventeen, then an x, and a three below it. You write fifty-one as the answer, having remembered it from earlier. Angel grins.

“Sweet. Okay. then um….okay, next the question asks how many biscuits will be in…” Angel gasps, taken aback by the lack of sense in the scenarios, making you giggle. “Fif- fifteen thousand biscuits?!” He snatches up the sheet, waving it around in front of Husker’s face. “These fat fuckers need fifteen thousand biscuits calculated for ‘em! Cows!”

Both you and Husker start to laugh, your hands clutching the countertop so you won’t fall off your stool. Through the hysterical giggles, your brain has turned up to be useful after all. “I got it!” you shriek, taking back the sheet as your hand shakes with laughter. “I-I got it, I know! It wanted me to do- do seventeen times three, then the answer times f-fifteen thousand three hundred n seventy nine!”

You scratch down the answer, then fact check it on your phone after getting Angel to give it back to you. The three of you all cheer as the answer comes up- Seven hundred thousand and eighty- four, three hundred and twenty-nine. Biscuits.

By then, you were hungry enough to eat that many biscuits, so Husker makes you a juice to drink along with them as Angel gets tipsier. You tick off the fifth question, drawing a quick doodle of Angel and Husker beside it in acknowledgement. It’s cute- who needs math when you’ve got such a talented hand? Your eyes scan down the sheet, and you giggle tiredly at the irony, looking back up at Angel and Husker.

“Okay, guys.” you say, rubbing your eyes and catching the attention of their own. “Only thirty five more questions to go.”

That was how you ended up spending the rest of your night- well, at least until you fell asleep at the bar with ten questions left on your sheet and Angel scooped you up into his many arms, taking you off to bed whilst Husker stayed at the bar, finishing off the sheet for you in his best attempt at replicating your shaky chicken scratch. Charlie didn’t have to know, and so long as you kept going back to them, she never would.

-♥+♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥+♥-

So cute hehehe thank u for reading pookies

More coming soon!

#huskerdust #husk x angeldust #angeldust x husk #gn reader #reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #vivziepop #fanfic #fanfiction #gay #hellaverse #young!reader #teen!reader

354 notes · View notes

saiidahyunie · 5 months

Text

dried flower

myoui mina x reader

synopsis: being the timekeeper is a big responsibility to fill as a drummer, but why does that internal metronome go out of control whenever you’re around your band’s manager mina?

wc: 3.7k

warnings: smut, fluff, cursing

✩♬ ₊˚.

a/n: mina fits the cool girl vibe so well

also the smaller text is so much cleaner here^^

i kinda like it @miinatozakiii

—

“fuck!”

you yell out in frustration as you throw your drumsticks down on the floor and shove the door open.

“what the hell is wrong with y/n? she’s been out of it all week!”

you overhear your bandmate jay ask winter, the band’s leader as the whole group is left in confusion of your little breakdown as the door behind you shuts by itself.

“we only have two weeks until the gig and we need to have these songs down! she-”

“it’s already a rough week for her as it is!” vernon shoots back as the band’s bassist, “you need to give her some slack since you’re already terrible at doing that anyway, jay.”

“why you little-”

“enough! both of you!” another voice is heard in the room as they look to see mina, who had been sitting in the sea of empty chairs and watched the whole thing unfold.

“arguing with each other isn’t gonna make the situation better.” mina sternly says, “i’ll step outside and see how y/n’s doing.” standing up from her seat as she exits the same door you almost busted down moments ago.

—

“dammit…” you sighed out in frustration as you leaned over the balcony overseeing the city lights, the breeze calming your thoughts as you continued to breathe at a slower pace, calming your heart rate.

“figured you’d be up here.”

you turn around to see mina, who was standing in the doorway as you leaned back against the railing, pressing your finger and thumb against the bridge of your nose as mina smirked at your distressed state, leaning over the railing to take in the view.

“what are you doing?”

mina shakes her head at your question, “i’m just here to check on you, not as a manager, but a friend.”

you scoff at her statement, “you didn’t have to do all that i was just-”

“y/n, just shut up and let me listen to what’s going on in your head.”

you don’t know why, but you feel a slight shift in your heart after mina’s sudden demand. it could be that or it could be just your fear of heights as you let your head back looking over your shoulder of the various cars on the street making their way around on a friday night.

“why do you want to know what’s going on with me?”

“because i have to keep everyone in shape in addition to not having one person tear the whole band apart.” mina responds, almost laughing as brushes a few strands of hair off her face from the wind.

instead of keeping your wall up to mina since she’s the kind of person that will persist in asking questions until they get answered, you sighed in defeat as you met mina’s face, peering at the two beauty marks as she kept her eyes on you.

“i… just got out of a relationship.” you say, picking your fingernails as mina watches intently as you explained your emotional outburst.

“stupid i know, but it’s been lingering on my mind for a week and a half now.” you continue to ramble, “i can’t think straight because of my stupid mistakes and-”

a finger is drawn to your lips as your train of thought comes to a halt, mina’s soft side showing as her heart sank after hearing what you were going through, acting in sympathy in an attempt to mend your shattered state.

“who’s the girl?” she asks as you wave her finger off your face.

“ryujin, i don’t know if you-”

mina scoffs at your answer. to be fair, if it were anyone else you were telling about your relationship troubles and they did the same thing as mina, you’d swing first right on sight if that were the case. but for some reason, you weren’t offended at all by her antic; in fact, you were appalled that she was acting like this in front of you.

“her?!” mina giggles out as you stand there speechless.

“you can definitely do better y/n, no offense.”

“none taken, actually, that made me feel a little bit better.” you mumble as she places a hand on your arm on the railing.

“how bout i call practice off and we just hang out at my place?” she asks wistfully, “besides, the others don’t really need the extra practice for three additional songs.”

you hesitated at her question as she rubbed her thumb across your forearm, looking at you straight in the eye as you bit your lip contemplating on what could happen–or what has already happened.

so, in a brief second you scratch your temple trying to make your brain work faster in giving an answer to your manager and eventually you give her one, “okay, i’ll take your offer.”

mina flashes that gummy smile at you, “great! i’ll go tell the others.” she says as she walks back into the studio complex as you stood there dumbfounded at what you just got yourself into.

—

your eyelids flutter open a little at an unfamiliar ceiling.

as you laid on the bed motionless trying to piece together the bits of information your eyes were receiving, it wasn’t enough as you slowly sat up trying to connect the dots more. the drowsiness still present as you tried to fight the urge to fall back asleep. the more you blinked yourself awake as you hear the small whirr of a fan humming in the room, everything starts to come together–but there’s still gaps in your memory.

the questions kept pouring in your head: “where am i?”, “who’s house is this?”, “how did i get here?” all listed as you scanned the room for anything that might help solve your predicament as you tug the comforter off of you–no pull as it seemed like it was weighed down by something.

after failing to get the comforter off, you continued to assess the unfamiliar room, and then another piece of the puzzle clicked in your head–this wasn’t your place.

in the corner of your eye, you saw a figure form in the comforter, her back turned to you with her long black hair covering it. still asleep while you were panicking shitless trying to piece the events from last night. you shift yourself up a little bit better as you notice your bare shoulder, lifting the comforter to see that you were completely naked, adjusting the comforter more to see the figure sleeping next to you in the same appearance.

the figure makes a murmuring sound, stirring awake as you pick up on the small sound that sounded a little peculiar, but also one that you recognized hearing before.

no, there’s no way right?

the figure sits up slightly as she turns around confirming everything that you feared as the person ruffles their hair, making it look more presentable.

“mina?!” you cry out in surprise.

mina rubs her eyes together as the comforter drops down to her waist, her hair in the perfect spot in covering her tits as she yawns while you rush to cover yourself up frantically.

“morning.” mina says nonchalantly, stretching for a bit as you stare in shock at the possibility that you just did more than just hang out at mina’s place.

well your mind tells you that the “possibility” was now all but a “certainty” as you scanned the room again to see a spree of clothes sprawled out across the room, the wine bottle and two glasses set on the nightstand that could explain one thing, but you still can’t remember all of it.

“did we?” you ask in disbelief as mina chuckles at your stupid question.

“you don’t remember?” she asks you the better pressing question as you tried extremely hard to remember what you did–and then everything comes back.

flashes of last night came into your brain like a slideshow, giving a vivid play by play recap of what went down last night: drinking on the couch, laughing about stupid band stories, staring at mina, staring at mina’s lips and eventually…

you and mina kiss. at first it was wrong, but for some reason, there was a sense to get more.

one thing led to another from bumping into the door, stripping each others’ clothes off, you straddling mina, never ending groans here and there as you makes her way down to her–okay that would explain everything your mind tried to process but mina was the one who helped you in the end.

as you and mina continue to stare at each other for a few more seconds, you then get off from her bed as you desperately scrounge up your belongings together, making sure that you didn’t leave anything behind, shuffling through the house as mina, now fully clothed, trailed behind you up until you reached the front door.

“sorry i’m just confused right now, that's all mina. i didn’t mean to rush out on you like that and-”

mina places a hand on your cheek, calming your train of thought, “it’s okay y/n, if you need space for a bit all you have to do is just ask.”

you scoff at her offer again, you didn’t want space away from mina, there was something about her that was comforting and it felt relaxing. then again, you weren’t so sure of yourself considering how ridiculously fast you were moving on from ryujin and in your “friendship” with mina.

“what if i don’t want space?”

mina tilts her head at you, “what is it that you want?”

“i don’t know i-”

“maybe this will help clear your mind.”

she draws you in for a quick, passionate kiss. you were thrown off by the contact of her delicate lips as you prop your hand just under her chin for better stability. it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for mina to be forgoing with her actions but you happily reciprocated them as you almost fell backward.

pulling away, you sigh out in relaxation, blushing at mina’s new side as she giggles at your flustered face.

“i should be mad that it worked, but thank you.” you said as you locked your lips with hers again, retreating after, still brushing lips together.

“my door is always open for you.” mina mutters as she breaks the hug with you walking out the door.

“i’ll let you know if i ever need that again.”

mina hums at your small promise as you walk out of her house waving goodbye.

—

the next following weeks were hell for your heart and mind as things somewhat returned to normal. sure, you managed to get the songs down with the rest of the band, but you felt like something was missing.

mina wasn’t like the previous manager your band worked with in the past. she was stern, quick witted, and had a changing duality between her casual and work related persona. you learned that she was very caring in the member’s individual conditions, always understanding what they have going on in each of their lives despite her cold tone at times.

her home also reflected her appearance as her apartment minimal, but had various expensive items that would make you think she bought them off the dark depths of the internet; it fit her that’s for sure and you catch yourself slowly getting attached to what you and her have brewing in your intimate friend/relationship?

—

“everything okay with you?” vernon asks you one day before the gig your band was supposed to play at.

“yeah,” you respond, “i have most of the songs we went over for jihyo’s-“

“that’s not what i meant y/n.” vernon butts in, “i was talking about your love situation.”

even though you were perceived to be a closed off person in the band, you were fond of vernon’s quirk of always knowing how to pry through your tough shell. because of that, you and him grew close outside the studio where you usually practice.

“it’s been tough, but i’m just healing and breathing.” you say as you sip water through your pastel pink hydroflask.

“is there something going on between you and mina?” vernon asks suddenly, making you spill a few drops of water on your shirt.

“no? why do you ask?”

“i’ve seen the look you give her during rehearsals, the eyes never lie y/n, they never will.”

“she’s just a caring manager, even if she doesn’t talk as much while we practice, she makes sure to have us something to do on the weekends that way we’re not at the studio 24/7.”

vernon exhales in agreement, “you do have a point, but mina seems to get closer to you after your little episode.” you flash a look at him, astounded at his observation.

“let’s not talk about that please?” you ask as vernon laughs at your pleading request.

—

on one good productive rehearsal a month after your accidental one night stand with mina, you and her agreed to not let anything happen between the both of you as the band was back in strong shape with the harmonious tunes of jay’s and vernon’s guitars blending well alongside winter’s voice with the simple beat of your drums.

everything was going well as you just let your inner metronome control your muscle memory as you lightly bash a couple licks and fills in the various songs–giving it a little bit more spice as you share glances with the other members in the band, nodding for your approval as you bopped your head to the music.

and then you set your eyes on mina.

even for a short second, you let your hands and feet continue their work on the instrument in front of you as you stared at mina a little too long as her eyes mirrored yours, looking away to your ipad off to the side trying to cover your flushed expression. while you were doing that, mina bit her lip at the sight of you drumming away as she watched the band play out.

once you guys were cleaning up, you were getting your drums in the case as you took inventory of all your necessary equipment as you picked up the sounds of footsteps walking to you.

“jay, for the last time i already said no to your drinks offer.” you say as you look up to not see jay, but her instead.

“oh hey…” you say softly as mina flips her hair to the side.

“just wanted to check up on you, how are you doing?”

“i’m fine.” you respond as you shove your bag of drumsticks into the bass drum case, “i still need to listen to the last song but otherwise, i’m good.”

mina takes the small foot stand from vernon’s spot as she sat on it while you matched her height on one knee. the chemistry that's been concocting from simple “hellos”, longing stares, and that slender neck that you’ve marked multiple times that night as mina also seems to have the same thoughts that you were having.

“y/n, we’re waiting outside are you sure you want to-”

winter walks back into the room as she forgot her phone to see you and mina get unbelievably close, standing in a bit of a shock as you and mina try to play it cool, making it look like mina was helping you get the last parts of your drumset into the bag.

“it’s okay wint, i was gonna go back home anyway, too tired as of late.” you say, sliding your ipad into your handbag as mina got up to turn off the lights on the other side of the room.

“you sure?”

“yeah, i’m sure.”

“if you say so and oh!”

you turn back to winter as you shoulder your bag, pursing your lips at winter’s lingering offer to bond with the band members some more.

“i’m glad that you’re moving on from ryujin, she didn’t really seem the kind of person to fit you anyway.” she ways as she turns around and walks out, earning a scoff from you as you look down at your feet from the sentence you just heard.

“you had no idea how much i wanted to hear that.” you mutter to yourself as you see mina return back from checking the lights of the small studio.

“wanna get out of here?” mina asks you as you ponder her question for a little bit longer than you should’ve as she stares at you promisingly that you’d take up on her offer again.

is it okay for me to do this with her? what if history repeats itself with mina? will i make the same mistakes i did with ryujin and how could i live with myself if the others found out that i’ve slept with our manager-

you freeze for a second as mina grabs your hand, pulling you to the exit.

“let’s go y/n.” she says, you nodded as you followed her out, your hand gripping hers tightly as your heart shifted again at mina’s action.

—

that same shift happened again as you and mina didn’t even make it past the front door.

it’s fast, hazy, and hot–your brain was sending all the right signals to your limbs as you were driven by mina’s lips all over you.

gripping her hair as she presses you against the door to her apartment, letting out a few soft moans in her mouth as she blindly opens the door behind you. stepping backward as your hands had more roughness, grabbing mina closer as she pulls away for a second to breathe.

“are you sure about-” you whisper at a loss of words, “why-”

“stop.” mina groans, her lips sloppily placed on the edge of your lips, “just don’t think for once.”

mina’s hands begin to discard your dark grey hoodie as you shuffle through the house, groans echoing in the hallway as you refuse to push mina away, reaching the room and crashing onto the bed as she mounts on top of you.

“don’t fight what you need, embrace it.” mina whispers in your ear as she pulls away from you, gazing at your lowly state as you try to get up, only to be pushed down back onto the mattress. “mina what the-”

“shhh.” she coos, biting her lip at the sight of your flushed cheeks as you tried not to make eye contact with her. mina’s hands working your pants as the growing sensation between your legs grew more and more the closer she took your clothes off.

“you’re so pretty for me when you’re like this.” mina hums as you whimper at the sound of her rasping voice. your eyes meet hers as you were clearly aroused with how she wanted to take control the second time of hooking up.

“mina,” you start off saying shakily, “don’t hold back. show me how badly you want to wreck me.”

mina hums at your demand, giving her the greenlight as she runs a finger through the damp cloth of you soaked underwear, sliding it off your legs smoothly, tossing it away carelessly as she smiles at the beautiful sight of you, kissing your neck again making her way down to the lower half of your body.

at this point, you didn’t care if it was right or wrong, nor the fact that you couldn’t remember the last time you slept with mina. all that mattered was how hot mina was making your body as she slotted herself between your legs, her breath right on top of your entrance, gripping the bed sheets as she was teasing up until the last moment of bliss you so desperately needed.

you gasp as your back arched once mina parted your folds open, tongue flicking up your dripping core as she purrs in delight of the first tastes of your slick juices. fuck who cares if you didn’t remember what you did with mina the first time, you just wanted to enjoy the moment of her going down on you as your heart was racing uncontrollably.

“my f-fucking god.” you breathed out as mina continued to ravage you, gripping her hair as she clutched onto your legs, nearly scratching them with her well trimmed nails.

the pace of her tongue in you, stimulating your senses to the point where your mind felt like you were one with the clouds. what seemed like forever she was down there as it elevated to a whole different level when she started to pump her fingers inside to push you more faster to the edge. hands grasping the bed frame to the point where it could break with your back and head pressing further and further down as you were making incoherent sounds of how good you were getting fucked.

“i’m so clo-hngh!” you moaned loudly as your body shook in mina’s face, still taking in all of your slick from climaxing as your body starts to relax, sinking into the bed as mina relentlessly cleans you up as you lay there barren, mind still hazy from the absolute pumping you just received from your crushing manager.

mina laps up the last of your cum as she ingests the last of your taste on her fingers as she helps you sit up against the headboard, pampering you with more kisses for a few more minutes as you regain your senses.

you lean your head back as she plants her lips on your neck once again, stopping as she notices you raised your hand up, looking at her with half-lidded eyes as bundles up across from you.

“something on your mind?” mina asks you as you finish catching your breath.

“i don’t know,” you reply, “it still feels like i don’t deserve what we have going on but,” mina tilts her head at your reason.

“my heart races and my mind feels at ease whenever i’m around you.”

“that so?”

you hum, nodding at her question to confirm her odd suspicion, kissing her knee as you shift yourself on the bed, ignoring the throbbing core in your thighs as you ran your thumb on your bottom lip.

“i like this side of you mina, especially the one you had just now.”

mina snickers at your observation, you flash a soft smirk as she meets your eyes again, running her hands through her dishelved hair before leaning forward for another kiss.

“that’s what happened the last time since you look like you don’t remember, so now we’re even.”

“what do we even call this?” you ask her as you hold her hand.

“we can be whatever you like, just as long as you let me go down on you like that.”

your heart shifts again as you and mina share a laugh together on the bed, and this won’t be the last time for moments like these.

#twice x reader #twice imagines #kpop x reader #twice fluff #twice mina #mina x reader #myoui mina #mina imagines #myoui mina x reader #mina so cool #twice smut #i wouldn't mind sitting in silence with her #cool girl cool gf

425 notes · View notes

imfinereallyy · 1 year

Text

Eddie draws on the edge of Steve’s hip, where his shirt rides up from stretching across Eddie’s bed. He’s humming to himself a song Steve doesn’t recognize, but it soothes him.

“What are you drawing?” Steve speaks softly; something about the moment feels gentle. He doesn’t want to break it.

“Hmmm, it’s a secret.” Eddie peaks beneath his bangs and smiles.

Steve leans up on his elbows, “Well, that’s not fair; I think I should know what’s going on my body?”

Eddie only looks at him with mischief as he continues to doodle. “Be grateful, Harrington. You’re getting an original Munson for free.”

Steve can’t help the laugh that escapes him. It is just like Eddie to say something like that. Playful and mean, it makes something settle in Steve. For a long time, he only knows the pain from harsh comments or a sentence with a bite. It is a welcomed change, to feel a bubble of happiness after a light jab.

“Whatever you say, Munson. Just let me see.” Steve tries to push up further to sneak a peek, but Eddie uses his free hand to push him down to the bed. He just happens to catch Steve off guard, sending him into a sprawl that can only be described as a starfish.

“I’m not finished yet.” Eddie grabs his hips and pins him still while he draws. After a few more moments, he says, “Done!”

Steve looks at his work and releases a snort that breaks the careful tension between them. “Are those boobs?”

“Why yes, they are, and a good representation if I say so myself.”

“Do you even know what boobs look like? Like the live version?” Steve knows he should be mad at the sharpie-drawn breasts on his body, but he can’t find it in him to have an angry tone.

“We’ll no. I don’t. And I would much prefer to keep it that way.”

Steve chokes on his spit a little bit, “Did you just come out to me, Eds?”

Steve isn’t sure what he expects. Denial, maybe, Eddie taking back what he said. Steve knows he isn’t handling this right. He doesn’t think Robin would be too happy with his response.

Steve thinks maybe he should see a little bit of fear in Eddie’s demeanor. That shakiness that comes with telling someone a dangerous secret.

What he gets, in the end, isn’t something he could have predicted. Eddie smiles softly, a little bit of his tooth peeking out, and lays his head gently on Steve’s leg. He’s calm and collected. He’s happy, Steve realizes.

“Yea, I guess I did. Not like it was much of a secret, though. Are you upset?” Eddie draws soft circles around the drawing on Steve’s hip—the rough callous on his thumb contradicting his tender touch.

Once again, although the conversation should be anxious, it’s not. Eddie’s question is spoken like he already knows the answer. Maybe he does.

“No, Eddie. I’m not mad. Never would be for that. Just thought it was a funny way of sharing a secret. Though, gotta admit, a very you way of doing it.”

This time Eddie throws his head back when he laughs, before settling back down on Steve’s leg. His giggles never really settled. “Like I said, Stevie wasn’t much of a secret anyway. Well, between us, that is at least. I like to think some, if not all, the kids are oblivious.”

“Erica definitely knows.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in mischief, “Oh, for sure. Pretty sure she would kick the others' asses, too, if they gave me shit for it. And she kicks hard too.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh. He’s never had this before, this casualness to serious conversations. Before, Steve is used to screaming and punching, drunken confessions in the bathroom, and throwing up on the mall floor. It isn’t like this, now, with Eddie in his trailer bedroom. It’s good. It’s safe.

“Thank you for telling me, Eds. Something like that is hard to share no matter who you tell it to.”

The softness is back again, “Like I said wasn’t much of a secret. Besides, I don’t think there isn’t any secret of mine you don’t know, Stevie. I think even when I don’t tell you, you kinda already know, don’t you?”

Steve leans one arm forward, while he places his weight on one elbow. He gently takes Eddie’s face in one hand, rubbing circles in the same motion as Eddie’s thumb on his hip.

God, I want to kiss him so bad sometimes, Steve thinks.

“Yea, I already know.”

#steddie #stranger things #I needed something soft #it’s been a long week #they know they love each other but sometimes it’s hard to say #I’m not sure if this makes sense but it made me happy so shush #steve harrington #pre relationship #pre steddie #they are falling in love #Eddie Munson #platonic stobin #only briefly mentioned #Robin Buckley #ficlet #fluff #steddie fluff #my writing #steve x eddie

1K notes · View notes

horrorartsworld · 1 month

Note

How was your day? I hope you are drinking a lot of water, that is important, we are 70% water!

I have a slight idea for a Hazbin Smut write-up and I hope you like it. It's quite simple, the reader is a sinner fed by debauchery and morbidity, and under that approach she proposes to be the first to test the Hotel's most recent resident; the very father of humanity who reincarnates as a sinner after dying from multiple stab wounds (they left him like a sieve)

The idea of a reader seducing that ex-exterminator is pretty simple, I admit, but it can be a little fun and I think with your direction it could be really erotic. You are great at writing something spicy, very good job, dear.

𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇

ִ ࣪𖤐 reincarnated sinner adam/sinner f!reader

warnings: smut. riding. dirty talk. semi?? rough sex. exhibitionism. not proofread.

IM BACK BITCHES!! writing my little heart out for you nonnie xxx and if you like my spicy stuff..well here’s something extra hot ;)

After extermination day and the hotels extreme new remodel everything pretty much went back to normal or so we thought…

Seeing an all too familiar face a couple weeks later all huffed up in the corner of the main lobbies seating quarters, arms crossed, face scrunched up and a new demon like form taking his once angelic features was none other than the biggest douche bag of the century,

Adam.

The hazbin crew was stuck gawking at the sight though some were trying their best not to laugh.

“No fucking way he crawled his way in here..” Angel dust whispers over at you with an amused tone, managing to cause a little giggle to slip past your lips just by the thought of the whole scenario that was unfolding in your mind.

“He sure as hell did…into our poor little humble abode no less,” Your eyes traveling along the horns sprouting out of his tufts of brown hair, no longer a halo hanging above his head. “Looks like the big man didn’t wanna keep him ether…”

Then a quick little blurb of pink and a sinister giggle following flashes amongst the pouty corner baby, a bright pink stinky note decorating his forehead with jagged looking penis drawn on it.

An eruption of laughter cascades over the group as Nifty looks all too pleased with her artwork all while mumbling some disturbing words to herself. Though even with all this minor torment on Adam he didn’t move a muscle which you took notice to right away all while the others died down and seemingly went to do other things since he wasn’t being all that entertaining as they hopped.

Angel and you stayed back eyeing him curiously when suddenly an awful idea prickles in your head that you couldn’t help but desperately want to act on. “I’m gonna fuck with him..” You mutter all too confidently while you unbutton a couple of the buttons on your shirt revealing the valley of your breasts.

The spider rolls his eyes, but a knowingly smirk doesn’t leave his face when he starts to head over to the bar to watch from afar, “ughh..you’re sick..just don’t get any diseases doll!”

You then take that as cue when you put a little swing in your hips, pointed tail following as you walk over to Adam, plucking the sticky note off his forehead once you made your way over to him and letting it fall to the floor near his booted foot. “Heyyy..you look lonely over here..need a little company?” You say in a silky tone as you look down at him.

No budge.

“..Cause I give great company..”

Not even a flinch.

You try not to show your growing annoyance as he wasn’t giving you the slightest bit of attention, not being use to the feeling it was giving you since you weren’t usually denied when you made your advances onto someone.

A small huff leaves you after a minute of this statue business went on and you finally gave up going to turn away when a sudden strong grip pulls your waist down onto something hard…

“Aww..can’t dish out when someone isn’t giving you the right attention…you must be a bratty little thing..” His husky voice making you swallow nervously as you soon realize you were on his lap.

“I-i wait..you?” You stammer causing him to chuckle.

“You what? Thought I went off the deep end for a moment there so you could take advantage…tsk” He tsks at you like if he was scolding a dog, with his calloused guitar hands making quick work to come up and rub on your thighs then suddenly smacking one without warning causing a soft yelp from you.

“N-no! it was just harmless fun is all..” You pout seeing the mark from his slap slowly forming on your delicate skin. He notices this taking in your cute pout then gently rubbing where he slapped you, “Is that right?”

You nod shyly before he hits your other thigh eliciting another yelp from you, tears welling up in your eyes and then a firm tug was made at your panties making them slide down to your ankles, the sudden coolness in the air hitting your wetness that accumulated causing your thighs to shut involuntarily earning another tsk from Adam. “Ah ah..no ma’am these stay open..”

“B-but what if the othe-”

“Open.” He says firmly, your thighs trembling somewhat as they open back up.

Your head spiraling out of control with how quick this was all happening and your friends only being a couple feet away had you a nervous wreck, luckily they were distracted at the moment by the deep conversation they were having at the bar that they didn’t seem to be too worried about the two of you, though the risk was still there especially with your cunt being on full display. Sending a weird surge of anxiety and arousal through your nervous system.

Not taking too long before he shoved his whole cock up inside of you making you so desperately wanting to cry out which was stopped immediately when his arm wrapped around your neck in what felt like a chokehold lifting your body up slightly against him as he then pounded roughly up into you giving no time to adjust.

Whiny mewls humming in the back of your throat, eyebrows furrowing when his cock starts hitting that spongy sweet spot in your core, making your back arch off his chest though he squeezed his bicep slightly choking you in an effort to try and keep you down against him. “Too much for you sweet thing? Should’ve thought about that before you tried to fuck with me..” He mocks gruffly, being able to hear the shit eating grin that was now plastered across his face as your walls started to suck him in. With your eyes widening when your friends seem to stir at the bar not quite looking over at you yet which you hoped they wouldn’t, Adam seeing this makes his thrusts go into you harder with a few slaps draw out from the skin to skin contact, eyes widening in dismay when he does this.

Luckily a few more of those said thrusts and he came in you shortly after, long ropes of seed filling you up nice and deep, only to pull out and tap his cock on your messy clit with your mixed juices all over it causing you to jolt at the sensitivity.

“Haven’t had a good fuck like that in a while..maybe Hell ain’t so bad after all..”

#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings #☆⋆｡𖦹 adam #☆⋆｡𖦹anon’s #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel smut #adam smut #hazbin hotel adam smut #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #adam

176 notes · View notes

little-diable · 2 months

Text

Don't Break my Heart, Cowboy - Jasper Hale (smut)

Since y'all loved my other Cowboy!Jasper fic so much, I wanted to share another one with you. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader works at a ranch with a few other cowboys, but with one she instantly clicked, finding herself drawn to him and his mysterious aura.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, public piv, somewhat outdoor piv, dom!Jasper, rough Jasper, degrading

Pairing: Cowboy!Jasper Hale x fem!reader (2.2k words)

With her eyes closed and her face turned towards the blue sky, (y/n) allowed her horse to guide her, to follow the others as she relaxed for just a moment. They had been riding for the past hours, needing to make it to their summer camp before the sun went down, needing to set up their tents before darkness could engulf them. But even though they were working on a tight schedule, the group didn’t give in to the need to hurry, enjoying the rough nature they made it through.

“You alright, darlin’?” Jasper’s words forced her eyes open, having to blink a few times to adjust to the sun’s brightness. For a moment, her eyes wandered over his handsome features, the pale skin, the golden eyes, and those blonde roots she so desperately wanted to tug on. She always had it bad for Jasper, the handsome cowboy who had instantly taken a liking to her, treating her like one of them from day one.

“I am, just felt the need to soak this all up before having to work again tomorrow.” Their shared chuckles caught up with the other four cowboys who were riding ahead of them, momentarily turning back towards the two.

“We don’t have any time for flirting, you two lovebirds.” She rolled her eyes at them, sat up straighter and reached for her reins. With a challenging look shot at Jasper, she pressed her heel into her horse’s side. (Y/n) raced past the others, smirking as they called for her, trying to catch up with the laughing woman.

The wind stroked her limbs, cosying her along as they raced through meadows, along the trail that’d take them to the spot where they were supposed to set up camp. It was an area she had never been to before, an area so calm, (y/n) feared she never would want to leave again. This felt like heaven on earth, a piece of the Garden of Eden, a piece so untouched she didn’t even want to trod through the land stretching ahead.

“Last to arrive at camp has to do the dishes!” With another laugh bubbling out of her, she watched Emmet race past her, not looking back once. And with her eyes set ahead, (y/n) got to racing once again, set on making it to camp first.

……

“Isn’t it astonishing that he tried to race us but still arrived last?” Jasper murmured his words, eyes set on his brother as (y/n) chuckled into her cup. They had arrived a while ago and had instantly set up the camp, helping one another with the tents they’d have to share, starting the fire, and cooking dinner. It felt like a family adventure, spending time with the people you adore, people you want to spend most of your time with.

“I’m pretty sure his ego got quite the blow from it.” Her eyes met his, no longer golden though a darker shade. By now (y/n) was all too used to watching his eye colour change, and yet she was still fascinated by the richness of his pupils, no matter the light. They told stories so old, (y/n) feared she’d uncover secrets she could never forget again.

It was a dangerous line she was walking, falling for a cowboy who would always love his horse and his work more than any woman to warm his bed. But she had never been one for backing away from a challenge.

“Where did you learn to ride like that?” The interest swimming in his pupils left her heart skipping beats, not used to being around men who were as interested in her. (Y/n) had to avert her gaze, focusing on the fire that warmed their limbs as the evening grew colder by the minute.

“We had horses back home, it was pretty much the only thing I enjoyed doing.” A melancholic sensation flushed through her as (y/n) thought of her home, of the horses she had grown up with. It was a bittersweet feeling, torn between being homesick and enjoying the free feeling she had never gotten to experience like at this very ranch.

“I think you can certainly teach us another thing or two with that speed you got, darlin’.” He bumped his shoulder with hers, drawing a soft chuckle from (y/n). Before she could even try to reply, voice shaking from the unfamiliar sensation his closeness still pushed through her, the others gained her attention.

“Before we get to drinking, who will share a tent with who?” Out of the corner of her eye, (y/n) watched Jasper study her, seemingly not paying attention to the cowboy who had spoken up. It seemed as if he was debating something, letting a few seconds pass, before he slowly moved closer to (y/n). A giddy feeling pushed through her veins, forcing her teeth into her lower lip to stop herself from making any sounds.

She didn’t focus on the bickering of the others as her gaze finally met Jasper’s, unable to bite down her smile at the way he was looking at her. Something was swimming in his pupils, something she couldn’t pinpoint, and yet she was awfully excited, wondering how the upcoming weeks would play out.

“(Y/n) and I will share.” Jasper had spoken up without ripping his gaze from her features. His words left her heart freezing, wondering where he was going with this.

“Well, we already knew that, didn’t we? We wouldn’t dare steal your girl, brother.” (Y/n) didn’t find any strength to roll her eyes at Emmet, purely focused on being called “his girl”. It had been a long time since she had last found herself drawn to a man, but Jasper was everything her heart was calling out for, hoping that he wasn’t the one to break her heart.

Jasper’s tongue ran along his lips, forcing her gaze towards his mouth for just a second – a second he clearly picked up on. Without knowing what her body was doing, she suddenly rose to her feet, murmuring a small “Excuse me” before leaving Jasper behind. (Y/n) was desperate for a second to breathe, overwhelmed by Jasper’s forwardness and the teasing of the others.

She walked through the meadow towards the horses, smiling as she came to a halt near them. Deep exhales left her stretched lungs, letting her eyes flutter close for a moment or two. She tried to focus on her surroundings, on the sounds echoing through the evening, the feeling of the warm breeze teasing her, the scents hanging in the air. But all she could truly focus on, was the way her body warned her that somebody was close; no, not just somebody – Jasper.

“Everything alright?” She felt him next to her, allowing her to stand still for a little longer before opening her eyes. (Y/n) stared up at him with a soft smile, wondering what he was about to say, if he was about to say something at all. But all Jasper did was turn towards her, hand cupping her cheek as he waited for her to pull away.

“Jasper,” (y/n) murmured his name, drawing a hum from him. “Kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, his lips found hers without another warning. Jasper’s cold hands drew her closer, placed on her neck and waist, holding her against his strong chest as their lips moved in sync. The small moan leaving (y/n) seemed to encourage him only further, allowing his tongue to move along her lower lip.

The kiss grew heated, fiery as the flames that had danced near them only a few minutes ago, demanding as the beat of their hearts that needed and wanted even more. (Y/n) finally got the chance to tug on his blonde roots, a movement that left Jasper groaning. Heat pooled between her thighs at the sounds he was making, silently praying that the night wouldn’t end with just a kiss.

“You’ll be the death of me, darlin’,” Jasper whispered against her swollen lips, staring down at her with love swimming in his pupils.

“Not before you make me yours.”

……

“Gotta be quiet, can you do that for me?” His raspy words rang in her ears. (Y/n) found herself kneeling, hands fisting the fabric of their big sleeping bag. He had made quick work of their clothes the second he had pushed her into their tent, needing to give into their longings for one another.

“Yes, I promise.” Desperation dripped from her words, begging Jasper to finally give in. He was positioned behind her, not giving her a chance to pick up on the wide smirk glued to his lips. His cold fingers found her core, leaving her to jerk in surprise at the new sensation, struggling to stop herself from speaking up.

Jasper didn’t take his time with her, he didn’t move slow, no, he was focused on making her tremble, on preparing her for his cock. Her bundle of nerves pulsed against his fingers, begging him for more, to push her closer and closer to the edge.

“I can’t wait to sink my cock into your perfect pussy, I bet you will feel so tight around me.” A whimper managed to leave (y/n) at his words, hoping that he’d finally fuck her like she had hoped he would for weeks on end. She heard him spit into his palm, heard him shuffle around as he pulled his hand from her. “And you’ll take me like the good slut you are, won’t you?”

She got no chance to reply to his words, eyes forced shut and lips pressed together at the feeling of his cock pushing into her. Her walls fluttered around him, desperately trying to adjust to his girth as Jasper held still, giving her a handful of seconds. But the moment he pulled back, only to push back in with more force, he turned into a ruthless form of himself, set on fucking her till she was close to passing out.

(Y/n) knew that she’d wake with bruises littering her body, she knew that she’d struggle with walking for a while, and yet she couldn’t care about anything but the feeling of Jasper fucking her, making her feel like she had never felt before. He held her fate in his hands, the one to decide over the outcome of this very night, but also of their time together, the one to wield the sword when the time was right. And she’d blindly trust him, following him wherever his path may take him.

“Oh fuck, Jas’.” (Y/n)’s whispered words left him chuckling, and yet the sound didn’t carry any humour, no, it dripped with something dangerous. Within seconds he had forced her off the floor, pressed to his naked, muscular chest. She didn’t anticipate his hand finding her mouth, choked on her surprised gasps as he forced two fingers down on her tongue, leaving (y/n) trembling in his grasp.

“I told you to be quiet, didn’t I?” A hum left her while tears ran down her cheeks, dripping onto the ground as Jasper kept fucking her, ruthlessly taking what he was needy for. She knew that she couldn’t drag this out much longer, knew that she’d cum way too soon, but she couldn’t care about that, could only care about the way he was fucking her. “Touch yourself for me, darlin’.”

Her shaky fingers found her clit, hastinly circling it to push her over the edge. She kept on trembling, kept on humming around his fingers as her walls clenched his cock. Jasper’s pace didn’t falter, stuck on the fast pace that pushed her into another dimension as she came.

The white, hot sensation flushed through her, leaving her breathless as Jasper kept fucking her, not backing down. Her orgasm had a tight grasp on her, longer than ever before, all because of the groaning man who was about to give in, set on imprinting himself on her walls. And with a simple “Fuck” leaving Jasper, he came, holding onto (y/n) till his orgasm passed.

Both were panting, only slowly letting go of one another as their bodies relaxed. (Y/n) plopped down on the ground with Jasper following moments later. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, only staring at one another with smiles glued to their lips.

“I hope you know that I won’t let you out of my sight ever again.” Jasper’s words left her chuckling, forcing her closer as her lips found his, pressing a soft kiss against them.

“As long as you don’t break my heart, cowboy.”

#Jasper Hale smut #Jasper Hale x reader #Jasper Hale imagine #twilight

222 notes · View notes

periprose · 10 months

Text

Fly Away

Michael Berzatto x Reader

You're a family friend of the Berzattos and you're invited to have fun at their annual Christmas dinner. You think you still harbor feelings for Carmy, but as the evening progresses, you feel something for his brother.

Genre: friends to lovers, former crush on carm, really everything w carm is mostly platonic, unrequited stuff, insecurities, age gaps (reader and carm are 25, Michael is 38), takes place in 2017, takes place in S2E6, lots of angst, anxiety, some fluff, no use of y/n (you have a nickname: Birdie)

Word count: 11k

There’s a bauble and trinket everywhere you look. Festive, Christmas spirit seems to ebb from the very walls of the Berzatto household– and you would be remiss not to compliment it vocally in some way.

Donna is clearly waiting, teetering on a response from you as you take everything in from the front door. And you know how she reacts if you don’t say things in that perfect, supportive tone that she so desperately thrives off of.

“Wow, Mrs. Berzatto!” You clasp your hands, trying not to seem too cloying or ironic. “I love what you’ve done with the house. Such an eye for details.”

“Oh, stop.” She giggles, and lightly taps your shoulder as she takes your coat and hangs it up in the closet.

“No, really. I wish my house was so… Christmassy this time of year.” You shrug, knowing that your dad isn’t the festive type after divorcing your mother.

“Aw. Well, we have love to spread here.” It’s a strange unseen sympathy coming from Donna, and she pulls you inside, and you take off your shoes, shuffling around in your socks and your comfy, hopefully chic, green loose turtleneck sweater. “Except you might have to wait a bit, because some of these fuckers are late.”

There’s that bitter tone you remember from Donna. You don’t really care for that– you tend to have an avoidant personality especially with how your own mother acts sometimes– and she yells out for Carmy and Mikey to greet you.

“Boys! Birdie’s here!” She calls from the stairs, and you suddenly feel self conscious.

Ever since your dad, a former co-worker and friend of Cicero’s, starting taking you as a teenager to these Berzatto hangouts, you have always had a eye for Carmen. It was hard not to be, seeing this bashful, slightly angry, awkward boy, around the same age as you, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You felt like sometimes, he really, really listened to you, and that was all you needed.

You wish you could be there for him too.

It’s something you’ve never acted on, never bothered to actually approach him about– he always seemed so absorbed by his own thing.

You relished in the fact that he never had a girlfriend. You felt secure in that, because he just seemed safe. And it’s not like he would’ve been mean about rejecting you if he knew– you were always close to the Berzatto siblings. You were Bear and Birdie, ready to head out on a walk together, while the adults gossiped and drank.

Of course, you haven’t seen him in about… two years now. Around after he left to his apartment, and did his chef-education-training (you’re a bit vague on the details, honestly), and ever since then, as far as you know he’s slowly been doing what he loves. He does text you from time to time, but you’d be overstating those texts’ importance if you pretended it really quantified a relationship.

Mikey clambers down the stairs, wearing what looks to be pajamas, or very chill homebody clothes, and he raises his arm in a big, Italian gesture.

“Oh! Is that little Bird I see?” He exclaims, and pulls you into an eager hug. Maybe a little too eager– you think it’s almost as if you’re comforting him as you hug him back, his face coming down onto your shoulder, as he encapsulates you– and he pulls away, grinning.

He actually looks really good. You don’t know when you started thinking that Mikey was good looking, but it’s true– he has a certain, rough around the edges appeal that you find yourself drawn to.

“Merry Christmas. You’ve been keeping away from us.” Mikey points as you, intended as a stern remark, but you snort.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ve been busy with work and law school, Michael. I’m not a kid anymore.” You resist the urge to comment on his beard, and then do it anyways. “Are you sure I’ve been keeping away? You’re the one with a hermit-ass beard.”

“Oh… they grow up and just start taking shots at you, don’t they, Ma?” Mikey places his hand over his heart, as if he’s wounded, and Donna shakes her head in agreement, before heading back to the kitchen, already seeming annoyed about something. “Beards are fashionable in 2017, Bird. Maybe come back to our current time– no reason for you to start dressing like a grandma already.”

You scoff at that, pointing at your sweater. “It’s semi-formal, c’mon! It looks nice. Respect the gathering’s rules.”

“It’s my house, babe.” Mikey leans in with maybe a little too much comfort, his eyes shining with some warmth, mirth even, and you don’t exactly pull away– the guy is like thirteen years older than you, and even if he does kid around, play up an older brother thing, you’ve started feeling like he’s restraining something more as of late, maybe some primal level of attraction that he knows better than to mess around with. You know that the feeling is kind of mutual– but you really don’t know how to quantify it. “I’m man of the house, and I say you should wear something that maybe, uh, shows off the pretty twenty-five year old that you are.”

The last part of this sentence has you swallowing a little, and you feel your face turning warm, and Mikey himself looks embarrassed that he’s said it, that he’s given a bit of evidence to your theories– he seems to brush something off, inside himself.

You have never thought you were all that. You’ve always been pretty sure you should be glad that you’ve gotten by without having to worry about your looks. The idea of wearing a nice, somewhat revealing dress to the Berzattos’ house has you cringing, because you know it would just be… bad.

“I’m not–” Mikey scowls at himself and you can visibly see himself fighting something, looking a little anxious, and you tentatively grasp his forearm.

“I know what you mean. I’m not offended.” You smile slightly, making the effort to calm him down a little, because you would never want Michael to beat himself up over you (he really seems to do that as of late and you know you’re not worth the trouble), and he nods and inhales. “You look good, too.”

“Right. Right on, Birdie. You can do what you want, anyways. Not up to me.” He seems to really dial back some of what he said, and before you can respond, Carmy walks downstairs.

“Hi. Hey, Birdie. Merry Christmas.” He says, kind of quietly, and you find yourself somewhat happy to hear him say your nickname again. Carmy looks especially nice– deep blue has always been his colour, it brightens up his eyes– and he has slightly longer hair than you remember.

He leans in for a brief but firm hug, and glances at your eyes once, before looking towards the floor again.

Mikey nods and proceeds to exit to the kitchen, and you’re left with Carmy grappling with what to say.

“How have you–”

“How’s law sch–”

Carmy coughs awkwardly, and you find your face turning warm as he looks towards you.

“Sorry, Bear.” You let him speak, hoping not to scare him away. “How’s everything? You okay?”

“Yeah. Uh… well, I’ve been training at Copenhagen?” He furrows his brows, runs his hand through his hair. “Just learning as much as I can.”

“Oh. Uh-huh.” Your curiosity is piqued– you didn’t know he was in Denmark, much to your disappointment– but you want to pry more of an answer out of him. He doesn’t seem interested in talking about it more than that.

“Sorry. Sorry. Stupid answer, there’s just not much to say.” Carmy shrugs, and then realizes suddenly that you’ve been standing at the foyer of the house for quite some time now, which isn’t very polite or inviting of him. “Wait, hold on. Let’s go sit inside and talk.”

Carmy makes some offhand comment about how you need to speak up sometimes and stop being so nice and accommodating to idiots like him, and you snicker, knowing that this is the Carmy you remember– snarky, ready to fight people on sometimes, even if he is a little weird and bashful. Although he’s short– he makes up for it with his resilience.

Carmy leads you through golden-lit hallways, a certain pepperminty, pine tree scent seeming to overlay the entire house, and there’s bushels and wreathes and mistletoe everywhere, and somehow even more baubles, ornaments, trinkets, knickknacks, all gold and red and warm tones that do make you feel a little fuzzy.

Carmy sits you down in the living room, on the sofa, and you’re next to him, and you place a foot under your knee, trying to feel casual. Not freaking out about him sitting right next to you. Weirdly enough… you don’t think you feel anything anxiety inducing.

Perhaps you’re just getting more reassured of yourself with age.

“So? How is Copenhagen, otherwise? I know Denmark is really interesting, but you’re probably busy with chef stuff, huh?” You prod just a little further. Just out of your own personal curiosity to see how far Carmy will go for you, and he nods. “Any friends?”

“Ah…” Carmy winces a little. “Can’t say if he’s a friend yet, but there is this guy that’s out of this world with pastries. I don’t know if I can meet his standard on that.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “Bear, you make my dad cookies all the time. Or, well, you used to. You can’t be that bad at it, considering that he always eats all of them.”

“Oh, really? Fuck, man.” Carmy looks at you in disbelief, settling more into his corner of the couch, closer to the tree, but looking more openly at you. You feel yourself cower a little under his watchful gaze. “I didn’t know your dad enjoyed them that much… I would’ve made more. Did you ever try them?”

“Hm?” You were getting lost in the details around Carmy– the dark blue shirt, the little bits of stubble around his jaw, the tattoos peeping out from under his long sleeves– and you nod. “Ah, I tried a batch around the last time you gave him some. I think it was… macadamia, matcha, white chocolate? Really good.”

Carmy is unreadable, his eyes flickering from the ground to your eyes– you think maybe you’ve embarrassed him a little– but he thanks you. “Where is your dad, anyways?”

“Ah. He’s got the flu, and he was kind enough to not want to infect you guys.” You admit. “Even though he was trying his best to walk over here from our house.”

Carmy remembers that you live in the neighbourhood over. You two used to hang out a lot during elementary and high school. He kind of missed you– something he’d never say out loud, but Carmy knows friends are few with him, and you were always a good friend to him growing up. You were always a comforting presence for him– you never asked him for too much, and he could tell you were being careful to do so. No pressure.

You just became really busy with law school, and he became really busy with chef stuff, and now you’re both… you both just lost touch. He feels bad about it– bad like he always does, with former friends and acquaintances from high school that he’s accidentally ghosted and lost– but at least you don’t seem to be annoyed about it.

He thinks it’s probably because in this case, you pulled away just as much as he had to.

“How’s law school, anyways?” Carmy counts the years in his head. “You’ve either just finished or you’re in your final year?”

“I’m in my final year.” You stretch out your arms, looking eager. “It’s a lot of work– I’m only here because I’m lucky enough to have a bit of a break in the winter months, and I’m ahead on my courses. But, uh… I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“Fun? Wow.” Carmy grins a little.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Birdie. Fun is more… fucking, I don’t know, fireworks or something? Drugs, maybe, yeah.” Carmy watches as you laugh, and laugh, at what he’s said, and again he’s never really sure what’s so funny about what he’s said, but he likes to hear you laugh.

“Clearly you don’t know either.” You snort, and lightly punch his arm. “When did we become workaholics?”

“Probably when we became, uh, adults and entered the workforce.” Carmy states, and you wrinkle your brows.

“We’re not really in the workforce yet, but–”

“What, really? C’mon. You’re a fucking receptionist or some shit, right?”

“Business administration specialist.”

“Yeah, there you go. That’s work, especially with all the school you have to do.” Carmy shrugs. “But what do you really want to be, then?”

“Oh, we getting into dreams, then?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think you cared that much, Bear.”

Carmy, for some reason he can’t detect, turns a little red. “No, of course I do. We’re still friends, right?”

“Acquaintances.”

“For real?” Carmy looks back at you, affronted, but you have a little smile and he knows you’re teasing. “Oh fuck you. Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You shake your head, giggling a little, glad to have so easily fallen back into a comfortable, friendly banter. “Of course we’re friends, it’s just that… I always thought very highly of you, Carmen, and I can’t always be sure that feeling was returned. You know? I assumed that you’d be out doing sophisticated cooking in big, upscale restaurants, and the rest of us would just be reading about it. Forgive me for feeling a little behind it all.”

“No, no, no. You got it all wrong, Birdie.” Carmy half-laughs at how you put him on such a pedestal. “You were always the one doing real work, as Mom would call it. You’re the one who’s actually smart and good at arguing, debating– that’s a real skill coming from me, because I just yell fuck at everyone and hope it works. I always thought you were the impressive one out of all of us.”

You snicker, but you’re actually quite pleased with that, and you feel your heart warm at his praise. “Ah, that’s so sweet. Thank you. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been surviving off of ramen and convenience store food for the last month. I can hardly make the time to cook efficiently.”

“...” Carmy shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You’re gonna eat good food today then, I hope.”

Almost as if on cue, Donna calls for Carmy to come help her with something– and you’re left sitting as he tells you that he’s going to hear about your dream job when he gets back.

Fifteen minutes later– Carmy is still MIA, and you’re starting to get a little hungry.

You know it’s rude, but luckily Michael comes by and asks if you want a snack.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You ask, and Michael snickers.

“You’re the same girl that can eat a whole number four combo at the Beef. I’m pretty sure you were hungry before you got here.” Michael jokes, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, stop it.” You shake your head. “Anyways, yeah. A snack would be nice.”

Michael gives you a wink that strangely has you a little twitterpated, before you shake that off. He comes back a few minutes later, chewing on something himself– and he hands you a bowl full of Italian sausage stirfry.

“Thanks, Michael.” You smile up at him, and he nods, trying not to smile too much back at your gratitude, but he likes how you take a bite and look super relieved, happy with the food. He’s always loved giving food to people– taking care of them. Especially you, for some reason.

Michael heads back to the kitchen, and Natalie comes by and takes his place.

“Birdie!” She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, equally happy. “Oh my gosh, if I knew you were down here I would’ve come by ages ago!”

“Aw.” You beam at her. “That’s okay, Nat. I’m happy to see you too.”

She’s off ranting about how Pete, her husband, is late, and how she can barely manage everything going on, and you’re sympathetic. You know Nat gets more of a harsh treatment from Donna, and you tell her that you’re there if she needs a person on her side.

“Oh, Birdie. I couldn’t do that to you. Even if you are amazing at talking, Miss Lawyer-to-be.” She lets you continue to sit down in your corner of the living room, as she heads off to check on her mom– maybe pour out some alcohol.

Carmy comes back in, slightly powdered with flour on his forehead– and he sits back down, sighing, as he drinks a glass of water.

There’s the slightest air of awkward tension still– even if you and Carmy have fallen back into your old ways, he still keeps a slight distance, one that he’s grown into, and you feel that you have to break the silence. You don’t know if he’s just tired or if there’s some level of irritation of having to deal with all the holiday bullshit, but you take a guess it has to do with Donna.

“That bad?” You grimace, and Carmy matches your expression.

“That bad.” He shakes his head. “She always gets a little woo-woo around these fucking events. Like, I never wanted her to do all of this– but she insists and insists and doesn’t know how to let go of the, uh…”

“Hubris.”

“Yes. Hubris.” Carmy sighs, glad you still have the perfect word for everything. “Whatever. Anyways, haven’t forgotten. Hit me with your dream.”

“Okay, it’s going to sound a little weird, but, um… I’m really interested in becoming a labour relations lawyer?” You feel almost too much glee at the fact that Carmy remembered, and you see Carmy bite his lip, a little confused, so you continue, hoping you don’t sound like too much of a fucking nerd. “Meaning to help employees get out of their shitty situations with wages, working hours, benefits and fight for their rights. Union stuff. I don’t know, just feels like everyone is struggling with this nowadays… might as well push forward and try to help them out.”

“Wow, now that you’ve said that, it makes a lot of sense.” Carmy blinks. “I mean, uh, it’s not just that you’re good at arguing– you always go for the justice part of things. Remember when Michael and Sugar were arguing about cleaning the basement?”

You do remember that. You suggested dividing up either equally or by who owned what, and they eventually came to an agreement based on that. Michael wanted to dip because he was older, and Sugar thought it was demeaning to ask a girl to clean.

“Or when Lee said that women can’t think analytically, or what was it… mathematically?” Carmy laughs as he watches your face turn angry again.

“Yeah. I especially remember that. I told him to think about Ada Lovelace and to shut up.” You wince. “Maybe not the most mature thing I’ve ever said. I don’t think that’s such a great thing… sometimes I don’t know when to let go of arguments.”

“It’s alright, it was funny.” Carmy plays with his fingers. “That being said, I think you’ll be good if you choose to be that. A labour relations lawyer. You’re smart, and god fucking knows we all need the help. You should check out how many chefs get fucked over because they work at places for the prestige of doing so.”

“Damn.” You make a mental note of that, feeling embarrassed over how much praise Carmy has freely given you. “Is that going to be you?”

“Doesn’t matter if it is. Sometimes you gotta do what you can.” Carmy doesn’t really give you a clear answer, and you feel bad for him. Bad that he’s still stuck in that mindset.

You can hear people hooting and jeering near the stairs, as you walk around the house, exploring a little. Tiff was grateful that you visited her for a brief moment– she told you being pregnant was not all it was cracked up to be– and now you’re just on the upper floor, near the stair railing, on your phone.

You’re not really one to eavesdrop, but you hear– you believe it’s Mikey and Richie– they’re chanting “Claire! Claire Bear!”

Your stomach drops, as you hear them hoot about how hot she is, whoever this Claire girl is– how stacked she is, apparently, the banging body she has, the glasses no longer ruining her appearance– and although you know it’s gross men talk, there’s a small, sad part of you that wants to be perceived as attractive, too.

Still, even as you find yourself frowning and turning away in disgust, you can’t stop yourself from listening.

You remember her. Claire, one of the neighbours down the street. Went to the same high school as you and Carmy. She was really something, someone of note if you remember the popular kid cliques correctly, but she had largely gone unnoticed by you, and it wasn’t for any reason in particular. You can’t be close with every person in high school.

But still– you feel jealous. Just a teeny bit. What was so different about her?

Sure, she was a nice girl. But weren’t you? You arguably had more history with the Berzattos, and yet… it’s as if you’ve simply blended into the wallpaper, their assortment of home decor and furniture. You’ve always been here, and so you don’t stand out.

You might never stand out.

You can hear Carmy trying his best to argue against them, asking them what they did, telling them to fuck off with their teasing– but he sounds sheepish, embarrassed, righteously mortified in the telltale way one would be when they have a crush, and you feel sick.

They’re heaping compliments on her. You know what they mean when they talk about her like this– she’s the clear, obvious choice, probably closer to the family, more interesting, more affectionate, a genius. You don’t really know Claire that well, but apparently, she’s perfect. And you know you, in your silly frumpy sweater, in your attempts to dress up– you are not. You feel humiliated that you even believed Mikey when he said you were pretty– he was clearly complimenting you just to be nice.

You weren’t even an idea in their minds, not for Carmy, anyways. You don’t even think Carmy is capable of seeing you like that now, and it’s with a crushing blow that you realize you were holding out hope. Mistaking familiarity for affection.

It’s a rookie mistake. One that you thought you were self aware enough not to make, because you’ve always known Carmen Berzatto was just out of reach for you.

You wait for them to leave, and come down the stairs, running into Carmy as he groans in annoyance.

Carmy says he needs to wipe some of the flour out of his hair, and you let him go upstairs, not really wanting to look at him, doing everything you can to make your way back to the living room unnoticed. In the meanwhile, Michael comes back and flops into Carmy’s seat on the sofa, next to where you sit, sullen.

“Hey, Birdie.” Michael starts, and you can’t read his tone, and you’re a little annoyed with his fake-nice attention. “Why not sit with me, the Faks, Michelle and Stevie? They’re really good people, I promise.”

“How do you know I’m avoiding people?” You snap back, maybe a little too aggrieved.

“It’s written all over your face, little Birdie.” He touches his knee to yours, and you bite your lip, swallowing your confusion, and Mikey enjoys the fact that you’ve chosen to wear a deep, brick-red Christmas lip colour. It’s hot– he doesn’t get how you don’t seem to be aware that you’re attractive.

He wants to kiss you. Maybe mess up that fancy lipstick and that sweet, annoyingly justice oriented, always-right character of yours. But he keeps it to himself.

“Don’t be antisocial. You of all people shouldn’t be alone during the holidays.”

“I’m not trying to be antisocial. I promise.” You shrug, trying to keep your emotions, that sinking feeling in your gut at bay– the last thing you want is for Michael to see you upset. “I was keeping Bear company, but I can come sit with you guys.”

“That’s my girl.” Michael pulls you up by the arm, and you can feel your face warming at his choice of words– you like being in Michael’s good graces, even if you feel less than great right now.

Michelle, cousin of the Berzattos, has always been sweet to you. She’s impressive in her own right, and as you sit down in front of her and Stevie– she gushes about New York.

“Ah, that’s not to say Chicago isn’t impressive. Right, Birdie?” She smiles at you, not unkindly, and you feel happy to be included.

“Right.” You shrug, knowing that the law firm you work at isn’t all that crazy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re nothing special, not after what transpired just a few minutes ago, and you voice it. “It’s just okay.”

“No, c’mon. You work at one of the top fucking law firms in the city– you’re gonna make it.” Michael admonishes you. “Out of us Chicagoans, I mean, Michelle, before you take offense.”

“Yeah, Mish.” Richie echoes, popping up out of nowhere.

“None taken.” Michelle fixes her eyes between you and Michael– perhaps reading on something that you’re not even really sure how to understand, let alone explain– and she laughs. “Anyways, what was I saying? Right.”

She launches into a story about hating a woman who didn’t understand the Berzatto name. It’s quite funny– you find yourself laughing every now and then, the dull ache in your heart less noticeable, especially with how good Michelle is at telling stories, and somewhere along the story, Michael’s hand has stayed intertwined with yours, without you really noticing. You only notice when he lets go, and again– a pitfall in your stomach, wondering if Michael just feels familiar around you because there’s nothing to be attracted to and thus respectful of– and it’s such a stupid thought, but you still just know you want to feel wanted. You want to get a hold on yourself– remind yourself you’re not owed attraction and there’s nothing wrong with Mikey or Carmy seeing you as just a friend.

You realize with a start that you’re feeling confused about Michael, too. Was it just a weird quirk of his, calling every single girl pretty just for laughs? Could you even trust what he said? Why does Michael’s opinion of you feel way more pertinent and important than Carmy’s does?

You find yourself mulling over these thoughts, not sure of what’s going on around you, and you hear Michael tell the Fak bros, Ned and Ted, to shut up about California, which they do.

Donna starts screaming in the background, which causes you to turn abruptly. “Oh, fuck me!”

Michael turns and looks at you with some caution– he’s used to his mother’s outbursts, but he never ever wants you to face them. You don’t deserve that, you’ve probably never done anything to deserve it. Not like him.

Stevie gets up, much to the surprise of everyone around him. “Looks like Auntie D needs help, huh?”

“No, no, no.” Everyone tries to stop him, including you.

“What?”

Michelle pushes him back down, but he gets back up, resilient.

Lee decides to comment in. “Let him, why not?”

“I’m sure she could use a few extra hands. I’m going.” He goes, and you stand up to follow, not willing to let an innocent person get dragged into Donna’s insanity.

“Wait, Birdie. Where are you going?” Michael holds your hand again, and you turn red at his action– a little angry, a little glum that he seems to care for you, and you can’t even be grateful for it. “Don’t throw yourself to the wolves. It’s not fucking worth it.”

“Not throwing myself– just want to make sure Stevie is protected.” You move forward, your face stony, and Michael lets go of you, sighing as he wraps his blanket around himself, wondering when you got all pissed off, but glad that you’re not so upset that you wouldn’t act all lawyer-y for Stevie.

Lee is glancing at him, while Michelle looks pleased as punch.

“What? What the fuck are these expressions?” Michael looks around questioningly, and Richie gives him a side glance.

“When’d you get all sweet on her, bro?” Richie gags a little. “Not that she’s not your type, but, uh–”

“I’m just being friendly.” Michael dismisses him, leaning back in his seat. “It’s the holidays, she shouldn’t be lonely.”

“Bullshit you are.” Richie sniggers, and Michael lightly shoves him.

“Yeah, I call bullshit too.” Michelle grins. “I can see it– you’re blushing.”

Michael groans, hating to be so obviously vulnerable in front of everyone.

“Well I, for one, think it’s a huge, fucking catastrophic mistake.” Lee starts, and Michael feels himself blanch under the judgement of this guy. “You’re going to ruin that young woman’s potential if you go around messing with her.”

“Lee, she’s not that young–” Neil starts. “I think she can decide that herself?”

“Whatever. This one knows he isn’t right for her– always wants what he can’t have.” Lee mutters, and Michael feels that white-hot rage– the anger he feels bubbling inside of him as of late.

He does his best to swallow it down, but a part of him knows that it’s true. As much as Michael enjoys your random visits over the past two years, he knows– you’re too good for someone like him. Too young, too selfless, too honest and good and pretty, and he feels an overwhelming wave of shame that he came so close. It’s like he just… doesn’t know how to be a good, responsible person, and it kills him on the inside that he could be so shameful, be so abhorrent and take advantage of you like that, and even if there is a tiny part of him screaming that it’s not so black and white– that you could be just as interested, of your own volition, in him as he is in you– he feels guilt.

Michael is ashamed of who he is. Over, and over, there’s that feeling again– kill yourself– that he doesn’t know how to suppress, and he ignores it as he starts up a new story.

Natalie is tearing up as Stevie hugs her.

You came towards them in the midst of Donna yelling for Stevie to get the fuck out of the kitchen, and Sugar shushing him and shoving him away, and you now place a hand on her shoulder– clearly Stevie has it handled, somewhat.

When he lets go, she sniffles and you smile encouragingly, albeit a little sadly, and Natalie wipes away a tear.

“It’s okay. It’s fine, it’s nothing. You don’t need to talk to her.” She starts, and you shake your head.

“I’m not going to. I can see that would make things worse.” You squeeze her shoulders, and Stevie nods.

“Yeah, Natalie. But we’re here. We’ll always be here if you want to talk.” He tries, and you smile at her– but something about Nat’s slightly upset, off putting expression, and Donna’s grumbling in the background– you feel your heart seizing a little at the tense emotions, so similar to your own, and you excuse yourself.

You walk until you reach the pantry, hot tears already working their way down your face. Every single negative emotion have come to a head, and you’re in terrible danger of having to explain things if you don’t get it together in under ten minutes or so.

You sit on the high table in the pantry, trying not to cry anymore than you already have, your head between your knees– but something about today has all your nerves on edge, and you know it’s because you put in some effort to come here, to see your dear friends, to look appealing enough, to be someone worth talking to, and now you feel as if they never really cared about you at all.

You know these are lousy, immature feelings. You know you can be above them if you really, truly tried, but you let yourself sink into them further, because something about this environment is terrible and you just can’t let it go.

Even worse, no one has really done anything wrong. If this was a court case, you wouldn’t even have any evidence to make a claim. You’re simply confused, perhaps looking at things from the wrong angles– but the fact that you can’t look at this rationally makes you feel worse. As if you’re not as smart as you believed.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in here, when you hear someone shuffle into the pantry, next to you– it’s Michael.

He’s quick on his feet– you try to move away, let him grab whatever household ingredient he needed– but his full attention is on you as his eyes narrow, scanning your tear stained face and your hunched over body.

“Birdie?”

You can’t quite look at him, and you desperately try to wipe your tears, burying your face more between your knees.

“Hey, no. Birdie.” He shakes his head, grabs your arms. He thinks it’s a little strange he’s had to cheer up two different people in the pantry, but he chalks it up to how his house always is. “What happened? Was it Ma?”

“No.” You sight and swallow down the sobs in your throat.

“Then what was it?” Michael’s eyes turn steely. “Fucking ‘Uncle’ Lee? Asshole. Told me I can’t finish any fucking businesses.”

“But… you run the Beef, don’t you?” You say, amid sniffles, entirely honest about it, and Michael’s eyes soften. “That has to count for something.”

“Yeah, little Bird.” He’s glad to have you here– he doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, not when you’re the only person on his side at this moment. “But why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

“I–” You shake your head, and feel your head hang heavy as you slouch over the table, and Michael leans over you, pressing your head to his chest, and you feel yourself crying silently into his shirt, as he shushes you and combs back your hair, his other arm caressing your back.

Michael’s not the best person– not the most comforting to be around– but he knows, by being an older brother, by being someone people want to be around, he knows how to make it count when he does give in to comfort.

He just wishes he didn’t feel so goddamned depressed himself, so he would know the right things to say. He doesn’t want to be so useless all the time.

“Mikey?” You voice is timid. Small.

He feels both elated that you would trust him with this, and devastated that he’ll never be good enough to deserve your trust.

“Yeah, Birdie?”

“It’s so juvenile, but I…" You shake your head and decide to commit to it. "I wish I was pretty."

“Is that it?” Michael’s arm wraps around your shoulder as he squishes onto the seat of the table, next to you. “You think you’re ugly, huh?”

“I don’t think I’m–” You inhale deeply, and wipe away your tears again. “It’s not about being ugly. It’s more like an objective reality that I have to accept. I’m just not… I’m not anything special to look at.”

“Wow, kid.” Michael tuts and shakes his head. “Ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? That stupid fucking mantra, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s true.” Michael almost starts laughing, but you look so solemn and serious, he resists the urge. “You’re not ugly. You might not think you’re all that, but you don’t see what I see.”

Michael tenses, and you watch as he falters over how to explain.

Michael thinks you're so damn annoying with that ardent, sweet expression– even if your tears are staining your face, you still look so grateful to hear him say those words– and it just crushes him. It crushes him to know that you look for his approval so much, when he knows you're worth so much more than that.

He doesn't want to let you down. You and Carmen– he will never be enough for the two of you.

"I don't– I'm fucking stupid, Birdie, don't listen to me." He swallows, but you're hanging onto his words and your face falls again.

"But I can listen to you get all poetic about Claire, right?" You mutter, angry, and you get up to leave– but Michael grabs your forearm, and he's quite a bit stronger than you are.

“Hey. That’s different.” Michael tries, but you shake your head, and you’re left sitting on the table again. “I was only teasing Bear. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know.” You turn even more glum, and Michael is left feeling terrible, wondering what was so wrong with what he said.

You’re silent for a moment– you know that you like Carmy, but something about telling Michael about it feels weird, like you’re pre-emptively rejecting him rather than Carmy by confessing feelings that are slowly disappearing– and you just don’t want to.

But you know you need to. You need to accept that Carmy would never see you that way.

“I just… for a really long time, I thought that I…” You fall to silence, again, and Michael is staring at you, hanging onto every word, watching your side profile shake as you try to gather your thoughts. “I really liked him, you know? I don’t even know why– maybe he was just the clearly available, safe option, and now that’s not even true and I feel like I’m mourning something that was never even real. How stupid and childish can I get?”

“Wait, Birdie–”

“And I just… I know I’m not like Claire. I don’t know what I got myself into. I don’t even really like him anymore– it’s just that the situation makes it so damn apparent that I am just average.” You huff out your words with an air of finality that even has Michael flinching a little, and he runs his hands through his hair, unbelieving of what you’ve said. “You can’t even say I’m not, Mikey, because I know how you talked about her and it was just so different to how anyone here has ever thought about me.”

“Birdie, shut the fuck up.” Michael breathes out really heavily, pinching his brows, thinking that he regrets everything he said and he wishes he could take it back. “I didn’t really– I was trying to tease Carmy, you know? It didn’t mean the shit you think it does. Hell, I would be way more serious if I was talking about you.”

He takes a beat of silence– should he read your reaction to that, or keep going? And he decides to keep going.

“You can’t just act like you can read everyone’s minds because you’re a lawyer, Birdie.” Michael says it with a slightly lighter tone, and his hand traces the small of your back as you lean against your knees, staring up at him. “Didn’t you learn about intent or whatever the fuck it was? In school?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You admit despite yourself, and Michael smiles but continues seriously.

“I don’t think that about Claire, okay? If anything, I’m fucking embarrassed you heard me talk all of that shit– that was just meant to be, uh, guy talk. I swear.” Michael swallows, feeling guilty that he still had to be so low about it. “I don’t– I care so much about him, I just went too far in working him up. I think it would be a good thing for him, right?”

Hurt flashes across your face– you still don’t think you like Carmy anymore, you just don’t know how to feel about someone else being portrayed as a “good thing.” But you inhale– you know part of getting over it is having to accept this, and you let yourself think and then nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could see that.” You agree, and it doesn’t hurt as much since Michael is looking at you sympathetically. “I just… I want to be a good thing, too. Not for Carmy, just…”

“For someone?” Michael answers as you trail off.

“Yeah.”

“Listen, Birdie. I’m gonna tell you something you gotta hear.” Michael has that determined look where you know he’s going to say something smart– he has his fleeting moments of wisdom even if he doesn’t believe in himself– and he goes for it. “I can’t believe no one has ever told you just to, I don’t know, fucking love yourself a little? Like, c’mon, you should be able to like yourself! You’re an incredible person and you deserve– you have the right to be insanely fucking confident and it’s so fucking annoying that you don’t see it.”

In the heat of his argument, Michael’s come too close again, and he can feel your breath on somewhere near his jaw or neck, and he has to remind himself to pull away again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and Michael combs back a strand of your hair.

“Don’t be sorry. Just listen to what I’m saying.” Michael inhales, thinks over why he can’t do this himself– Tina always tells him to be a little easier on himself, but he just struggles– and he thinks that you look terribly cute so it’s just a lot easier to root for you. “Don’t do it for some idiot guy who will never really appreciate you, little Birdie.”

You can feel the conclusion of that sentence, even if Michael doesn’t quite say it: do it for yourself. Be there for yourself. Listen to the good part of yourself, rather than him.

“Oh. I guess that’s…” You swallow, taking it in, knowing the value of his words. “It’s true.”

“See? You know it.” Michael leans in a little too close again, his face a mere breadth away from your own.

“I think you’d actually make a fantastic lawyer.” You slyly comment amid wiping your face, and Michael blinks and then laughs.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d get to see me and hear my advice all the time.” Michael mumbles a little over his words but to his surprise, you nod.

“Yeah, then I’d get to see some idiot who really does appreciate me.” You murmur even more quietly, and Michael, feeling stupid, has a wistful smile on his face that he maybe has not felt in a decade. It’s so sweet– he thinks his heart is bursting with something.

Maybe love. Maybe that jovial, Christmas spirit that seems to emanate as the food smells closer to ready, maybe what Carmen gave him as a kind gift, most likely the closeness he feels with you– not just being close in familiarity, more like– he can make out the little spots and freckles adorning your face, every single eyelash your still watery eyes have, the faint lines in your still-red lips, and it occurs to him that he’s too close. Somewhere during this talk, his hand has stayed around your back, and you have been tentatively tracing his right hand’s knuckles with your own thumb.

Michael knows how it looks. If anyone was to walk in right now (and he’s sure Michelle or Richie have already put it together that the two of you have been gone for a while) they would assume you two are a couple.

He has a sudden air of regret– it’s not because he wants to reject you, he just… he struggles a lot with feeling wanted. He struggles with the standards that people seem to put on him. Michael has always known he’s not a good guy– he doesn’t know how to be the person that everyone seems to think he is. Carmen, Natalie, Richie, you– you all seem to think the best of him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He nearly had a breakdown watching Carmen look up to him so lovingly.

Before he can pull away– with another responsible refusal, telling you that he’s too old and washed up, and that you deserve the whole world and he is not enough to offer that to you– you gently but firmly grab his face, tracing his cheek, and he thinks it could be wrong– what if you’re just feeling all confused and willy-nilly about feelings because you’re displacing what you felt about Carmen, what if you don’t actually like him and you’re assuming that you do because of his clear attraction to you, what if you’re just feeling the moment and the sweet guidance he’s given you?

Tons of questions seem to flow from his mind, things that he wants to ask you, but Michael thinks fuck it, because you’re leaning in first and pulling him in and it’s something he would’ve never expected in a million years, that you could be just as attracted to him.

He kisses you maybe a little too hard– maybe it should’ve been softer, more gentle since you’ve opened up to him so much, but you kiss him just as eagerly back, and he doesn’t fucking care to be gentle anymore. He’s leaning over you and Michael knows he’s quite a bit taller, so he has to pull you upwards to really reach your lips, and the table the two of you are sitting on is quite small– it shakes a little and there’s not much room for Michael to really feel you.

Until you climb into his lap, because of course you do, and now you’re just tangling your fingers in his hair, and he thinks he can feel whatever migraine that the day’s events have spurred on him slipping away, and his hands wrap around the smallest part of your waist as he pulls you in, pressing his chest against yours.

You feel like Michael’s beard tickles a little– but you don’t mind that. You weren’t sure until you did it that you’ve wanted to kiss him for a while. You feel like maybe you’ve actually been more attracted to him than you ever were with Carmy, maybe even just going for Carmy due to his aforementioned security.

Michael groans, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you sharply inhale as his tongue roams around your own, and he knows he likes hearing you gasp when his hands come up under your sweater, just to feel your bare skin, and you pull away.

Michael comes in too close again, placing a soft yet firm kiss on the corner of your mouth, and you laugh at him, and it’s one of the best sounds he could hear. No longer are you all gloomy and sullen in the corner of the room– but there’s still an air of heat around you two, and he knows he should let you go before things go too far.

“Consider that a Christmas present.” You murmur softly, tapping his face, genuinely smiling despite the smeared lipstick, and you clamber off his lap, and peek out the pantry. “I think you’re good to go eat dinner– let me just…”

You wipe the red lipstick from his mouth using the corner of your sweater sleeve, so not to leave evidence, and it’s an intimate moment that has Michael staring at your hand, to your eyes, and there’s something in his eyes– maybe sorrow, maybe appreciation, but most of all, tenderness, and he takes a silly, soft moment to just kiss your hand. You beam at him.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” You tease him, because you know that Michael has always had that look, and he stiffens for a moment.

“Ah… maybe around when you came back from graduating college.” Michael admits, feeling weirdly high and low all at the same time, but he questions you too. “What about you? Don’t tell me you just decided to kiss me right now. That would fucking… that would be too much.”

His heart falls for a split second– thinking about how again you could’ve just been having a little fling– why would you ever like him? He struggles to think how you could, even after having kissed you.

“No, no. I swear it’s not like that.” You turn a little red and play with your hands. “Um. You’re not like a rebound, Mikey, I just… I think I liked you ever since I started coming around more, maybe around last year? I probably just didn’t notice because I thought I was into Carmy. You know? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Michael tries not to let the relief show through his face too much. “I thought maybe I was… reading too much into it. Putting pressure on you.”

“No, you’re good.” You shake off his concerns. “I don’t think that at all. I really do like you… might’ve just been obsessed with the idea of a childhood friend turning into a lover.”

Michael grins. “Well, who’s to say that didn’t fucking happen, Birdie? Are we not childhood friends?”

“Eh… kind of. You’re a bit old.” You give him a so-so motion, and Michael jokingly pushes you a little. “I’m kidding! This is more like– your friend’s hot older brother gives you a chance and it’s crazy and exciting and you just want to know more.”

You were half kidding, but you’re so honest about it, and Michael loves it, but there’s still that undercurrent of agony– he wants to just openly like you, too, but he doesn’t want to be such a fucking failure about it.

“I’m gonna just head to the dining table, I think.” You check your watch. “Gotta go think about this a little more– is that okay? Not in a bad way, I’m just overwhelmed with everything that’s happened today…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s okay, Birdie.” Michael presses a kiss into your hairline. He knows it is a lot for anyone to handle– getting over a crush you thought you had, realizing that you like someone else– he gets it. “Take all the time you need.”

“Okay.” You smile eagerly at him and then walk outside through the hallway, wiping your mouth so it looks less kiss-stained, and peek around so no one is looking at you.

Michael feels a million emotions hit him at once, and he knows he has to cool himself down before explaining to everyone where you’ve gone, what’s happened– or he’s certain to implicate himself, and he can’t have that.

It all goes to shit not even twenty minutes later.

You’re sitting pretty between Richie and Tiff, who seem to be a little bit… awkward, maybe arguing mentally about something you don’t completely understand. No one has really commented on your disappearance, but you’re sure it’s obvious based on how Michelle and Stevie are whispering and smiling at you.

Michael gets a massive, depressive episode right after you’ve left him. He can’t exactly pinpoint why– he feels like a creep even if he isn’t one. Hell, he only actually met you when you were nineteen– he was in a different state when you started visiting the Berzattos. But even if Michael ignores his potential, old-man creepiness… he also feels like you’re headed for so much more than he ever was, and he knows he’s holding you back if he does this.

For once in his life, he just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be wanted without the stigma of not being good enough.

You, Carmy, and Nat. He knows you guys are on your way. Michael feels a pit in his stomach as he imagines why you guys all have to look up to him so much– he just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

He can’t ignore the feeling that he is just a major fucking loser.

That’s why Michael goes and gets high. He knows he’s making a mistake, and he doesn’t want to do something so disappointing– but he figures he’s already a disappointment anyways. He’s grateful you’re not here outside to see how pathetic he really is– how much he craves a hit just to feel a little less shitty. And yes, it calms him down as he feels the high of the painkillers exacerbate positive memories, like with you, Carmy, Natalie– but it still makes his anger, his depressive tendencies strong, too.

When he sits down at the dining table– he’s not that intoxicated, but he knows it’s a little apparent on his face, based on the mild alarm on your own. You’re sitting just far enough from him for there to be plausible deniability, but still– you are worried about him.

“You good?” You mouth, and he waves away your question with an air of fake nonchalance.

You don’t look convinced. You can see the red in Michael’s eyes, the general tension in his shoulders, the unnerving sense of resentment in his expression. You wonder what could have happened in the last ten minutes that you’ve been sitting at the table, why Michael decided to go and get intoxicated just minutes after kissing you.

Were you too much for him? Maybe.

You know Michael gets high. In fact, last Easter, you’re pretty sure he spent the entire time high on something– but you only vaguely know about his anger flare ups. About his negative emotions, the supposed depressive periods he goes through. You’ve seen him argue a bit with Richie, you know he’s gotten a bit harsh with Carmy, but you know he’s a bit more troubled than that. The whole family seems a bit troubled. Natalie has told you that much, and you have your experience with that– your mother and father’s fights are ones that still make you quiver to think about. But with Michael?

You don’t know how much you believed it, until now, because Michael always seemed kind of… like he always had the right thing to say. You almost feel like he’s in the right to get upset, because he’s had a hard time, with his family, some of his luck surrounding his career– especially with how Lee continually riles him up.

The table is formal and nice for a bit. Michael and Tiff converse about something, Carmy asks if you’re okay and you mostly are. Michelle asks Mikey to say grace, and he sounds resentful, again, of Lee cutting him off so often.

Cicero, being the responsible uncle that he is, tries to push off grace to Stevie, who promptly rejects it, and Michelle decides to ease the tension by asking what the hell the seven fishes are all about. Lee, of course, gleefully answers, about the dutch potatoes and the bible.

Michael glares at him and throws a fork. A real, honest-to-god, heavy piece of silverware. It clatters on the carpeted floor– you feel yourself flinch, and you watch Natalie and Pete’s expressions crumble into the realization that Michael is not okay, and everyone seems to look towards him in fear.

“You see what you did, right? You already did that. You already bitched about the dutch oven.” Michael retorts at him, not completely coherent, and you can feel the lights glazing over– the Christmas tree, the wreaths and baubles, everything seems to lose focus in comparison to the red-hot anger that Michael is bubbling over with.

Cicero and Carmy try to call him off, but Michael isn’t listening, and you can tell– he’s in a place to be upset. It’s like a slowly proceeding car crash– as much as you don’t want him to do it, you understand why he’s going to. You feel like there is a bit of a double standard in place here– Cicero seems to want him to respect his elders, and Michael is being kind of childish, but you can’t say you don’t understand why.

Michael asks for Fak’s fork, in direct opposition to Lee’s attempts to play the father in this house. Despite Fak’s insistent refusals, Michael successfully takes it. Everyone speaks with the intent to stop him, and he’s too focused on Lee to stop.

You know you hate Lee too. But such a severe reaction, coming from Michael? It has you wincing a little. You want to pull him away– tell him to be the nice older brother you’ve always known him to be– but you know it takes time. You know it’s probably going to get worse. You try to catch his eye– and he can't quite look at you.

You have faith in him. You know Michael can do better than this– you just hope he can see it, too.

Michael throws the second fork, and you feel regret in trusting him, again, because he’s making things bad but it’s almost as if he can’t help it. You catch Natalie’s eyes– she’s clearly disappointed, too.

Michael feels a sick sense of pleasure, as he often does when it comes to acting out his worst desires. But he feels a flash of anger with himself– is that what he did with you? Is he really this guy? He thinks that he is, he is a bad dude and he can commit to that role if that’s what’s needed.

“Cousin, you’re scaring the normals.” Richie tries, looking at Tiff and you, but you’re still yearning to catch his glance– and Michael can only respond that it’s nothing, everything is fine, and you’re suddenly reminded of when your parents used to fight and how you used to have to be the middle man and convince them that things were alright.

Michael looks towards you this time– but you’re not looking at him. You have your hands neatly clasped in your lap, your eyes are focused on the set of candles in the middle of the table, and you look horribly upset, with your neck all tense as you wait for things to blow over, and he can tell– he’s fucking up big time. Stevie, Carmy, everyone is looking pained, and Michael can only think that he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to make Lee feel just as terrible as he does.

"You see– I can throw forks because this is our father’s house." Michael scoffs back, and there's real agony in his tone. “My father’s house.”

Michelle inhales. “We have lift-off.”

“Okay, you got everyone's attention, so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.” Lee spits out, barely holding back his own contempt for Michael, and Michael starts laughing as if everything’s alright. “Tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and any other sucker who'll listen to your bullshit.”

Everyone looks towards the table, feeling terribly awkward about Lee’s accusations– it’s not that it’s necessarily untrue, but there’s a hefty amount of his own assumptions, his own bias thrown in there, and you want to speak up.

“Lee, shut the fuck up.” Cicero looks absolutely pissed off at him, and you’re grateful someone has taken some of the heat off of Michael. It’s Lee’s fault, too.

“I’m sorry. I told you not to be a sucker, Jimmy.” Lee comments, and Cicero exhales, exasperated.

“Lee. That’s not really fair– you’re being too hard on him.” You utter through gritted teeth, and Lee’s eyes narrow on you. It's the first time you've spoken, and Michael glances at you– his eyes are bright and he genuinely looks sorry. Sorry he had to go this far.

“Oh, am I? Really, Birdie? I would suggest I’m not being hard enough.” Lee raises his hands, invites you to speak more, and you know that it’s not really your place to do so, especially because Lee and Michael seem to have a lot of history.

But you have your almost-lawyer tendencies, and of course you’re not exactly unbiased either, because you want to see the best in Michael– you want to like him.

"Please, Lee… Michael's working on himself. You don't need to lie to him." You stare at him, and Lee’s face seems to turn darker with that. “I’m sure we all have our issues… it feels like a lot.”

"Is that what he's told you, Birdie?" Lee sneers at you, and you suddenly feel small. "He's a sick, fucking twisted man, and you would trust him, wouldn't you?"

He doesn’t go further than that– but it’s enough that you feel humiliated for being read so thoroughly. It’s obvious what he’s implying– you’re a silly little girl who doesn’t know any better.

“It's fine. It's fine. Because this guy's nothing and he's nobody.” Lee points at Michael again, and his expression sours so much. You watch as Michael seems to zero in on what Lee’s rambling on about.

Natalie shakes her head in little no-no motions.

“Hey… Petey… I just need to, uh… I need to borrow this for one second.” Michael’s got that nonchalant expression again, but there’s pain in his eyes, and there’s a clamour of everyone again telling Michael to stop, calling his name, trying to distract him.

"Michael. Michael. Please don’t do this. Hey. Hey. Hey!" Natalie calls at him, and you know she's just begging for him to leave it alone. “I love you. Okay?”

You watch as Michael, holding the fork, just holding it, clear malicious intent in his eyes, tension building in the air and you feel a little sick, but his eyes are watering and he clearly doesn’t want to do what he thinks he has to.

“I love you too, Sug.” Michael says honestly.

Stevie giggles, Cicero de-escalates things further, and you think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, if not for the fact that Michael is still holding the fork. Still standing up, taunting him, acting like a big old child as Carmy rebukes him– and it’s really just two grown men beginning to get all macho and toxic about who’s tougher, who’s really the man of the house, and they start screeching at each other and you watch as Michael’s eyes glaze over with something, with Lee’s final insult that “he’s nothing.”

You watch as Michael takes his seat. He seems ambivalent, hard to read– he’s not meeting anyone’s eyes and you feel terrible about it.

Donna comes in and takes her seat– she seems rather drunk, too, and the last thing you need is more evidence that substance abuse is a bad thing– and Stevie starts the most wonderful prayer that still isn’t enough to dissuade Michael. You catch his gaze– he’s mulling over something, his eyes are watery, and you want to go over there and talk him down, even if that idea is unwise.

Donna cries over the prayer, and Natalie commits the most cardinal sin that she could at this moment: she asks if she’s okay.

You flinch with recognition as Donna starts screaming at her, about how she is okay and could a person who isn’t okay make such a gorgeous meal, and she exits the room in visible anger, and Natalie begins to hyperventilate, while Michelle tries to calm everyone down.

Donna throws a plate down on the floor, and exits the room continuing to scream– and there’s a beat of tense silence, full of angst and what-nows, and Lee decides to take initiative breaking that silence with a silly joke– almost in a paternal role, again, a hot topic between him and Mikey– and you watch Michael’s eyes start narrowing as he leans against his hand.

Michael throws the third fork.

It’s like every single nerve you felt, every bit of tension that was already in place, comes to a head as Michael starts going batshit, trying his best to attack Lee, while the Fak brothers and Richie are between them, and you can barely think straight as everyone starts screaming at each other.

Tiff almost gets dragged into the chaos, and you're left shielding and comforting her from the fight. Pete and Richie hold Michael off and you're thankful– the last thing you want is to go up in there and get caught in the crossfire yourself. It’s genuinely a blur– you have no idea how bad things are getting until Cicero starts telling them to get the fuck out.

Suddenly, the wall of the living room bursts inwards, the Christmas tree getting dragged in the crossfire, and you realize with shock that someone’s driven a car inside.

Not just any car– that’s Donna in there, driving, and you think for a moment she’s dead. You can’t believe what’s happening– you can feel your heart hammering through your chest.

Michael runs towards the car, tries to open the front door, yelling and asking her what she did, asking her to open the door. She stirs a little.

Everyone else is standing there, in shock, not focusing properly on what to do, and you pull yourself away from the crowd of people, as they stare on in horror. You don’t want to be a part of this, but you are, and you know what a responsible adult would do.

You go outside, into the December night’s cold air, and call 911. Specify for the firefighters and ambulances, because Cicero has a big thing against narcs and cops and you’re not getting into that right now.

Even though you’re freezing, and that’s what you should be focusing on? You’re in an incredible amount of despair because of what’s taken place. You hang up the call and feel exhausted by everything that’s happened, and you wonder if Michael really knows better. If he can be more than this. It’s not something you’re judging him for– but you feel terrible about his circumstances and you want him to get out of there.

Worse, you can’t help but feel a little upset with him. Because you know that Michael didn’t have to stoop that low– he chose to, and that’s what bothers you the most. He let his emotional responses dictate how he was going to act, and you know it’s hard to not be so provoked in this environment, but still: you are concerned and upset with him, and you know you need to take a step back. As much as it hurts you to stay away, you feel like it’s going to hurt even more if you intentionally stay around.

You wait for the ambulance and fire trucks to show up– you take a minute to direct them through the house, and then you trust that someone else has got it from there. Carmy, Natalie, Michelle, Stevie– they’ve got each other, they’re whispering about something, and you know where you’re not needed.

You grab your coat and leave, leave as silently as you can without interrupting everything that’s going on. It’s an strange walk home– ten minutes of you thinking about everything.

You hope next Christmas will be better.

Michael comes down from his high hard. Someone’s wrapped a blanket around him, and he’s sitting on the front porch’s staircase, wondering what the hell is going on. Donna’s apparently been taken to the hospital– and there’s a makeshift tarp where the wall has been crashed in. Everyone has gone home.

Where did you go? He has a moment of panic. Are you okay? Did he fuck it up that badly? That you would leave without saying goodbye? Michael can picture the disappointment on your face, and he wishes– he really wishes he was someone else.

He’s stressing really hard, his eyes are beginning to tear up. God, he knew he wasn’t really worthy of your attention– you’re young still, you have the whole world ahead of you– and he wonders if he can apologize. He wonders what he could possibly say to make it right. After such an insane situation, he can’t even blame you for taking off.

Natalie tells him, kind sister that she is, that you were the one to call emergency services. Of course you were– you have a strong head on your shoulders and Michael feels strongly that his family is in debt to you. And then you headed home, but Natalie doesn’t know why.

He does have your number. But he’s not going to call you, not right now– he’s not going to make a bigger mistake and fuck things up further.

Michael sighs, and leans back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.

1K notes · View notes

jamespotterismydaddy · 1 year

Text

Attitude Adjustment

cregan x reader smut

TW: smut, brat taming, cockwarming, madhandling, rough sex, degrading

word count: 1,894

A/N: for bel hehe

It has been two months since you and Cregan were wed but the marriage is not a happy one. You were betrothed for political reasons, as is the fate of most royalty, but you never grew comfortable in the North. It felt confining and dragons were not made to thrive in the cold.

You are currently at a feast in celebration of his sister, uncle or whoever’s nameday it was. You couldn’t care less. It is a lovely excuse to get drunk and piss off your husband.

He looks at you with discontent from where he sits at the table as you dance with some lord. You dance with many lords at celebrations but never with him, and you always have this expression of boredom on your face when he asks. The dress you wear shows off your cleavage nicely and is in a deep Targaryen red, he wants to burn that dress. It isn’t the cut of the gown that bothers him, but the way that the drunken lord is looking at what it reveals. Perhaps he is feeling extra jealous tonight or perhaps this lord is getting closer than the other ones do. He watches the both of you as you dance, his eyes drawn to the image like a moth to a flame.

You can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head. You don’t even care to be around lord whatever (he is proving to be a bit more handsy than you would like to put up with) but you do enjoy making Cregan mad.

The issue arises when the lord’s hands begin to wander with intent. His fingertips should be at your waist but they have fallen to your hips. You may be tipsy but you’re not stupid, you can feel how they’re about to go lower.

Cregan can see how his hands move as well. He can see how you try and shift them to an appropriate place and how you’re starting to look uncomfortable. He can feel himself burn with anger and jealousy as the man’s hands travel lower.

“It’s all right, your husband need not know.” The lord whispers in your ear and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Excuse me?” You push away from him but his hand lingers on your waist, trying to keep you close.

Cregan tries not to slam his hands down on the table as he stands. He makes his way over to the both of you swiftly and puts a not so friendly hand on the lord’s shoulder.

“I suggest you get your fucking hands off my wife before I gut you like a pig.” He speaks calmly, almost like it is a suggestion, but the hand that lies on the pommel of his sword says otherwise.

“I-I… uh.” It isn’t long before the lord stumbles away and you find that you are clinging to your husband’s side.

“Are you alright?” He looks at you sincerely, you don’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes when you step away from him.

“I’m fine.” You grab a goblet of wine from a passing servant and down it. You go to move but you stumble, causing Cregan to grab your arm to steady you.

“Let me assist you back to your chambers.”

“No, I wanna dance.” Your words are slightly slurred, you may be drunker than you originally thought.

“You can dance more another day.” He begins to lead you by your waist and manages to just get you out of the great hall. “Let's get you to bed.”

“Hmm…” You look up, thoughtfully and he can’t imagine that you’re thinking anything good. “You’re gonna have to catch me first!” You say excitedly as you take off down the hall in the opposite direction of your chambers.

“Y/N!” He calls after you as you sprint away from him. “Come back here this instant!” You never found yourself being an obedient wife.

By the Gods. How is she so fucking fast? He thinks to himself.

You giggle like a little girl as you run, holding up your skirts so that you don’t trip but you know he is gaining on you. So, you do what anyone would in such a situation, you pull off your shoe and whip it at him before taking off once more.

He narrowly avoids the shoe that was soaring towards his face, dodging it just in time. You may have slowed him down but you also pissed him off.

“You little brat.” Cregan curses under his breath as he catches up with you.

You squeal as you feel his big hands around your waist. “Nooo!” You squirm in his grasp.

“Fine. If this is how you want to act…” Before you know it, you are being hauled over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Cregan, put me down!” You pound your fists against his back as he begins to walk to your chambers.

“You’d best stop that before I make you regret it.” He warns and you huff, letting yourself go limp over his shoulder.

When you get to your chambers, he sets you down on your feet and you stumble again as the blood rushes your head.

“You shouldn’t get so drunk all the time. It gets gossip going around about our marriage.” Cregan scolds you and you glare back at him.

“Like it isn’t all true.”

“It doesn’t matter what's true. Perception matters and it is being perceived that you will dance with any man at any event as long as it isn’t your husband.”

“That is because I will.” You know you sound like a child but you’re also a little drunk so you cut yourself some slack. This doesn’t help the fact that he’s finished with your behaviour.

“You’re just a spoiled little princess, aren’t you?” He steps closer to you and his eyes darken. You say nothing as the heat rises to your cheeks.

“What?” You manage to squeak out like a little mouse.

“I said you’re a spoiled brat.” He brings his finger to your chin and tilts it up so you have to look him in the eyes. “Perhaps it’s my fault… perhaps I don’t fuck you well enough?”

“I-I…” You don’t know how to react. He has never spoken to you in such a way before.

“That must be it. I’m far too gentle with you. Don’t worry, baby, i'm gonna turn you into a good little wife.” His tone feels far too kind for the words he is speaking. “Is that what you want?” You nod in response.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, husband.” And with that, his mouth is on yours.

He slams you hard against the wall and you can almost taste the aggression on his lips. He kisses you feverishly as your hands fall to his hair, gripping his curls. His hands roam your body, groping every part of you roughly as if there is fire running through his veins. He pinches your thigh and grins wolfishly against your lips as you gasp, giving him the opportunity to force his tongue into your mouth. He can feel your soft little hands pawing at his tunic as you try and lift it up. He breaks the kiss long enough to pull it off and his lips go to attack your neck. He nips and sucks on it and he hears your little whines of ‘ah ah ah’ as you practically fall apart in his hands. He turns you around and pushes you against the wall once more as he works at the ties of your dress.

“This is what you wanted, huh? Wanted your husband to treat you like a common whore.” You whimper in response.

He quickly manages to get the dress off your body and wastes no time with the corset, choosing to rip it off with his bare hands. This leaves you in only your chemise.

“On the fucking bed.” He demands of you but you just stand there, trying to process everything that is happening.

Cregan rolls his eyes and simply grabs your waist, lifting you as if you are lighter than a feather before laying you on the bed.

“Sorry.” You mumble timidly.

“It’s okay, my sweet wife. Just gotta show you who’s in charge.”

He doesn’t take your chemise off, instead hiking it up as much as he can so it’s bunched up above your chest.

“Oh.” You gasp as he kisses your soft tits, leaving marks all over.

“Get your small clothes off.” He says as he sits up and unbuckles his belt.

You make quick work of pulling off your underwear as he pulls his breeches down just enough to release his hard length and if it’s possible, you blush harder. You realise that you have never actually seen it before, usually closing your eyes as you perform your duty. You didn’t know how long and thick it was.

He easily pries open your thighs to look at your soaked cunt. “What a wet little cunny. I won’t even need to prepare you.” He teases and you pout.

“You’re mean.” He laughs at your words.

“Oh i’ll show you mean.”

With that, he slams himself into you all at once. He is more than brutal as he thrusts in and out of you animalistically.

“Not so bratty now, are you? You just needed your husband to fuck that attitude out of you.” He smirks at your face which is screwed up in pleasure. “Say it. Say you needed this.” He demands.

“I j-just… needed my hus-band to… fuck me.” You stutter out, not able to speak properly each time Cregan’s hips slam against yours.

“Good girl.” He praises and he takes both of your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. You didn’t know it was even possible for him to hit you deeper and you moan loudly at how good the new angle feels. You feel his fingers fall to your pearl, rolling it between his fingers as he completely splits you open on his cock.

“Oh, Cregan!” You moan out his name as you feel the head of his dick hitting your cervix, you never knew it could feel this good.

“You like that? Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” He slams his hips against yours harder.

“Yeah…” You breathe out.

“Beg me for permission.” He says as he rolls your pearl between his fingers harder.

“Please, husband. Please, please.” You whine and he laughs at you again.

“Go on, my sweet wife.” With his permission and how he pinches down on your pearl, you feel that coil of pleasure that was winding in your tummy snap. You whisper his name like a mantra as he fucks you through your high before letting his hips come to a staggering stop and filling you to the brim with his seed. You both catch your breath for a moment before he rolls over, taking you with him so that you’re lying on his stomach and his cock is nestled nicely inside of you.

“You did so well, baby.” He draws gentle circles on your back. “Did I hurt you too much?” He asks, a tender look in his eyes.

“No… I liked it.” You find yourself getting flustered and you hide your face in his neck.

Perhaps this marriage won’t be so bad.

taglist (comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring

#cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan smut #cregan stark smut #hotd #hotd smut

834 notes · View notes

ncteez · 2 years

Text

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.

“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.

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.

“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.

“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!”

“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?”

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’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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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:

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.

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

“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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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,”

“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.

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.

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 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?”

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.

“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.

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?

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.

“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.

“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.

“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.”

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.

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.

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 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.

#mark lee smut #mark smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #neo-hub #nct-writers #nct dream smut #mark lee fic

2K notes · View notes