Milo

The bathroom door finally creaks open after what felt like an eternity of muffled swearing and fabric rustling. Milo steps out slowly, every movement stiff and furious. The tiny yellow emoji bikini top is stretched to its absolute limit across his chest, the smiley-face thong bottoms wedged so deep between his thick cheeks that the print is distorted into a thin unhappy line. His short brown hair is a mess, hazel eyes narrowed into slits, face a violent shade of red from ears to collarbone. He stands there with arms crossed so tightly it pushes his pecs up, trying (and failing) to look intimidating while his thighs rub together nervously. "Do you… really want me to wear this? Like… actually stand here in front of you looking like a discount beach bimbo?" His voice starts low and dangerous but cracks on the last word. He shifts his weight — the thong immediately rides higher, making his bulge twitch visibly and his ass jiggle. He freezes, then yanks at the straps in panic. "This is the single most humiliating thing you’ve ever made me do. If this photo leaks I will end your bloodline. And no — I’m not hard. It’s just… the elastic is too tight. It’s cutting off circulation or something. Shut up. Stop staring at my ass. Or my dick. Or any of it!! I hate you so much right now. I’m gonna make you pay for this bet ten times over. …Don’t laugh. Don’t you dare laugh.♡""

Milo stands under the living-room lamp like a prisoner on display, arms stiff, shoulders hunched, every line of his body screaming embarrassment. The emoji bikini top clings uselessly, nipples peeking through the stretched fabric; the thong is so far up his crack the smiley face is basically a sad little smear between two massive pale cheeks. Sweat beads on his neck, hazel eyes locked on your phone like it’s a weapon. You tell him to pose — he lets out the longest, most dramatic groan in history, then does a sarcastic hip-cock, one hand on hip, the other flipping you off with shaking fingers. "There. Peak humiliation achieved. You happy now, you evil genius? Look at me — I look like I escaped from a bad OnlyFans thumbnail." He tries to adjust the thong discreetly, but only makes his bulge bounce more obviously and his ass jiggle. His voice jumps an octave. "This thing is literally eating me alive. The string is in places strings should never go. And no — I’m not enjoying the attention. I’m not hard because this is hot. It’s just… blood flow issues. From standing too long. Or gravity. Or your shitty apartment lighting. Whatever!! Take the picture already so I can go die in private. …And if you zoom in on my ass I swear I’ll throw your phone out the window. Don’t test me.♡""

Milo finally collapses onto the couch beside you with a defeated huff, thighs clamped together so hard the muscles flex visibly. The emoji bikini is doing literally nothing to help — the top has ridden up almost to his collarbones, the thong is lost somewhere between his cheeks, and his bulge is now impossible to ignore, tenting the yellow fabric into a sad, obvious shape. He snatches the biggest throw pillow and hugs it over his lap like a shield, burying half his face in it so only his furious hazel eyes and burning ears are visible. "This is your fault. All of it. The bet, the bikini, the fact that I’m sitting here looking like a rejected pool toy. I’m never drinking with you again. Ever." He peeks over the pillow edge, voice muffled but venomous. "You think this is funny? You think seeing your best friend reduced to emoji lingerie is peak comedy? I hate how this feels. I hate how it looks. I hate that you keep staring like I’m some kind of exhibit. And no — I’m not hard because I like it. It’s a physiological response. Like when you get cold and your nipples get pointy. Same thing. Totally normal. Not gay. Not into it. Just… biology being a bitch." He shifts and the pillow slips slightly, revealing more of the strained thong and the wet spot forming at the tip. He yanks it back up instantly. "Don’t. Say. A word. Just tell me when the hour’s up so I can burn this abomination and pretend today never happened. …Or don’t. I hate you.♡""

Milo is still clutching the pillow like a lifeline when you reach over and slide one hand under it, cupping the underside of his bulge through the stretched emoji thong. Your other hand finds his ass cheek and squeezes hard — fingers sinking into soft, warm flesh. He jolts so violently the pillow flies off, revealing the full obscene picture: thong pulled tight, dick throbbing visibly against the smiley face print, ass jiggling in your grip. "WHAT THE FU— GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME, YOU PERVERT!!" His voice cracks into a furious screech, face now purple with rage and shame. He tries to slap your hands away but only succeeds in making his ass bounce more in your palm and his dick twitch harder against your fingers. "I said NO TOUCHING!! This isn’t part of the bet!! I’m gonna— ngh— kill you!! Let go of my dick!! And my ass!! Stop squeezing!! It’s not— I’m not— FUCK!!" Every squeeze makes him angrier, voice rising, body betraying him as pre soaks the thong and his hips jerk involuntarily. "You’re the worst best friend in history!! I hate you!! I hate this!! I hate how it feels— STOP MAKING IT WORSE!!♡""

You’ve got Milo trapped on the couch now — one arm around his waist, your hips grinding slowly against his fat ass while your hand slips inside the front of the emoji thong. Your fingers wrap around his leaking cock and start stroking lazily, thumb circling the slick tip. His whole body locks up, thighs trembling, breath hitching. "D-Don’t— don’t touch it like that!! I’m serious!!" He tries to squirm away but only grinds his ass harder against your lap, making wet sounds through the fabric. You murmur against his ear how cute his dick is — small, sensitive, twitching in your hand like it’s begging. His face goes nuclear. "It’s NOT cute!! Shut up!! It’s average!! It’s normal!! Stop saying shit like that!!" His protests dissolve into shaky gasps as you stroke faster, grinding your own bulge between his cheeks. "I’m not— ngh— enjoying this!! It’s just— biology!! Stop calling it cute!! I hate you!! I hate— ah~!!♡""

Milo is on his back on the couch now, legs hooked over your shoulders, emoji thong shoved to the side, thick ass bouncing with every deep thrust. His hands claw at your back, red nails leaving marks, ponytail coming undone, hazel eyes glassy and wide. "This— this doesn’t make me gay!!" He gasps between moans, voice cracking every time you bottom out. "I’m just— ngh— fulfilling the bet!! It’s not— fuck— it’s not because I like dick!! I’m straight!! Super straight!! Girls!! Tits!! Pussy!! All that!!" His own cock slaps wetly against his stomach with every thrust, leaking steadily. You angle deeper and he arches off the couch with a broken cry. "I’m not— ah~!! I’m not enjoying this!! It’s just— prostate stimulation!! Totally normal!! Not gay!! Not gay at all!! Harder— I MEAN DON’T!! SHUT UP!!♡""

Milo is face-down on the couch, pillow clutched under his chest, legs spread wide. You’ve pulled the emoji thong to the side and buried your face between his thick cheeks, tongue working slow circles around his hole. He jolts forward with a strangled yelp, trying to crawl away — but your hands grip his hips and pull him back. "N-No— stop!! That’s— that’s disgusting!! Get your face out of there!!" His voice is high and panicked, body trembling as he weakly pushes at the cushions. Every lick makes his ass clench and his thighs shake harder. "I’m not— I don’t like that!! I’m straight!! This is weird!! Stop— stop making it feel good!!" He tries to scoot forward again but only arches his back more, pushing his hole against your tongue involuntarily. "Fuck— no— I hate this!! I hate you!! Let me go!! …don’t stop— I MEAN STOP!! SHUT UP!!♡""

Milo is a complete mess now — sprawled on his back, legs trembling in the air, emoji bikini top shoved up, thong hanging uselessly off one ankle. His cock is leaking steadily onto his stomach, ass flushed and sensitive from everything you’ve done. He’s panting, hazel eyes glassy, cheeks streaked with tears of frustration and pleasure. "Okay— fine!! You win!!" His voice breaks, sarcastic armor finally shattered. "I’m hard. I’m leaking. I like it. Happy now?! Just— fuck— do whatever you want already!! I can’t— I can’t pretend anymore!!" He grabs your wrist, guiding your hand back to his dick, hips bucking weakly. "Make me cum. Please. I hate you for making me say it… but please. I need it. Ruin me. I’m yours. Just— don’t stop.♡""