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simpjaes · 2 months

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happy hotwifing ― p.js & p.sh

When a single man moves in next door to you and your husband, it wasn’t difficult for either of you to take interest in what he could offer to the dynamic of your lives together. Unfortunately, the new and interesting man appears to be afraid to admit that he’s curious as to what happens behind your very unlocked front door. or the one where your husband, jongseong, fucks you in front of the window to help the neighbor get off and then said neighbor shows up at the door a week later.

minors dni! | reblog to give husband and neighbor a boner

WORDCOUNT― 18.9k

PAIRING― husband jongseong x afab reader x voyeur sunghoon

CONTENT― husband!jay, bachelor sunghoon, hotwifing/ open marriage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, second hand embarrassment, threesome, smut.

WARNINGS― mentions of sunghoon’s ex cheating on him, also jongseong is assumed to be bisexual and/or he is attracted to sunghoon too but there isn’t any dude on dude stuff. jongseong does put his fingers in sunghoon’s mouth tho, deal with it.

NOTE― i wrote this originally on ncteez. i am the same person lol

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― exhibitionism, voyeurism, big dick jay, HUGE dick sunghoon, top/dom(ish) jay, service top/shy/bottom(ish) sunghoon, embarrassment kink???, mentions of porn, masturbation, phone sex kind of?? idk he calls sunghoon so he can listen to the shit he’s seeing, alcohol consumption, finger fucking, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, tit fondling, raw grinding, oral (f & m receiving), deepthroating/facefucking, making out, dirty talk, pussy drunk men, cock drunk reader, double vaginal penetration, riding, missionary, finger sucking, cum stuffing, desperate desperate people!!!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon ran from a lot of things. He ran from his ex fiancée when she cheated, he ran from new opportunities out of fear of losing what he already had, ran from a cop once as a teenager for streaking near the old folk’s home. Running wasn’t exactly something he’s fond of but, more often than not it’s what his heart tells him to do.

As stated, the last time he ran away was when his fiancée was found in the bed he paid for with her co-worker. That’s when his need to run came in the most handy, having no qualms with giving her the apartment and everything in it. His job allowed him to leave without much of a financial hit, her’s wouldn’t.

The ring he bought stayed on her finger for some reason, the home he made became one she shared with any man that wasn’t him. It’s okay though, because to him? She can have it. He’s much more comfortable starting over than she would be. So, that’s what he does.

He has money, he has a good job, and now he has a lovely house of his own on a quaint little street on the other side of town. Far far away from her.

Starting over is equally as exhausting as it is exciting but Sunghoon keeps his chin up throughout the process. Making an empty house his new home, working his job as if his entire intimate life didn’t just fall apart, and of course, preparing himself to mingle with the new neighbors.

A month after moving, Sunghoon had made platter after platter of food for neighbors as his greeting in an attempt to make friends. Many accepted and returned his dishes washed and unscratched. All are friendly to him but the majority of people in this neighborhood are middle aged and a bit out of his league. There is one pair of neighbors who appear more around his age though, and interested in actual friendship with him. The pair who brought his dishes back full of their own offer of a decent dinner for him to eat on his own time.

Despite the majority of people living on this street being polite and fond of him as a newcomer, this specific couple appears to be the only ones without an entire family. Just like Sunghoon. No children, free time to go out on the weekends, no minivans or babysitters coming every day during working hours. Naturally, he internally clings to the idea of them being his new friends, because his old group of friends consisted of his ex fiancée and her tight-knit group of pompous women and their boy toys.

Jongseong is the husband’s name, and briefly he met you alongside him a few times. He assumes you must have your own interests to cater to, because each time he finds himself on his own front porch with Jongseong talking and joking around, you rarely come with him. Save for the one or two times you did stay to hang out for a couple of hours.

After a few months, he’s managed to sprout friendship with the man next door who has a pretty wife with a ring on her finger. Sunghoon tries not to internalize that he was supposed to be living the way Jongseong is. Maybe he’s a bit jealous of the happiness in Jongseong’s eyes when he talks about you, or maybe it makes him feel like he either wasn’t good enough as a partner, or his ex simply just didn’t love him anymore.

Still, even with the slight jealousy, Sunghoon is comfortable around him. He’s never clicked with another man so quickly in terms of friendship, at least not without several shots of hard liquor to get himself comfortable. It’s definitely different with his neighbor.

The guy is open, kind, and occasionally pretty funny. He comes over a few nights a week with the claim of “man-time”. It’s been at least fifteen times since he officially met Jongseong and comfort comes alongside him when he sits on this porch and they fuck around about menial things. Hanging out with him is arguably like a breath of fresh air.

Jongseong though, he takes note of a lot of things that Sunghoon doesn’t quite seem to notice himself. One, any time he mentions his wife, Sunghoon’s eyes falter a bit. Two, Sunghoon is clearly a single man and Jongseong can’t quite grasp why that is because he’s a handsome dude, with a level personality. Three, there are slight self-deprecating jokes coming from Sunghoon at least five times an hour and it’s starting to make him wonder. At first it can be funny, but after a while it kind of stops being a joke.

So, here they are, joking and having a nice conversation on Sunghoon’s porch. It’s a Friday night and Jongseong assumes they’re close enough by this point to really talk. You’re in the back of his mind, making offers, smirking about the new neighbor, laying down the interest flat out after merely meeting with him a few times. If Sunghoon really is a single man, and if he’s as open minded as he seems, perhaps laying down some hints and an invite can help him out of this clear slump that he tries to pretend he’s not in.

“What about you? Do you have someone in your life?” Jongseong asks after a solid twenty minutes of gushing about you. Internally knowing what he says about you is true, but also trying to sell the idea of how wonderful and sexy you are. He leans back as he studies Sunghoon, noting the way he stiffens at the question.

Again, it’s clear that Sunghoon is a single man with the way he’s always in this house alone before and after work. On the weekends, he’s sitting on his porch waiting for Jongseong to come join him. Sometimes there’s a doubt though, because looking at him, anyone would believe he is taken. He is down to earth, funny, kind, handsome as hell. Maybe he does see people and Jongseong just never catches it.

“Ah, no,” Sunghoon avoids eye contact, trying to laugh it off as he confirms Jongseong’s suspicions. He wants to talk about what happened though. He hasn’t been able to talk about it, and honestly, Jongseong seems like a trusted friend at this point. “I was with someone for six years, asked her to marry me, and then we broke it off. That’s why I’m here now.”

“Oh yeah? Starting over, huh?” Jongseong nods politely at him, figuring something like this may have happened. “Can I ask what happened?”

Sunghoon shrugs nonchalantly, looking at Jongseong with a carefree face and a smile.

“She wasn’t the most faithful, you know how it goes with those sorts of things, I guess.”

Jongseong studies his face a bit more, seeing straight through that carefree attitude and noting the immense amount of hurt Sunghoon must feel.

“I don’t, actually.” Jongseong starts, watching Sunghoon’s brow rise in confusion.

“Oh, well isn’t that nice?” He responds with a defeated shrug, almost wanting to roll his eyes. “You might be the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t dealt with infidelity at some point. Even just as a teenager.”

“On the contrary,” Jongseong says with a smirk, leaning towards Sunghoon as if he has a secret to tell. “We fuck other people all the time.”

Sunghoon stares at him as he processes those words. Unsure of it that means they both are cheating out of spite, or if they’re about to divorce or something.

“Sometimes in the same bed.”

Oh.

“At the same time.”

Jongseong deadpan stares at Sunghoon, searching for a reaction to his words. There have been many times where he and his wife invite someone to their bedroom, and many more times where the person ended up so freaked out that they ghosted the entire situation. Perhaps out of fear that Jongseong doesn’t know what he’s doing with his wife. Many people can’t seem to fathom that possessiveness, jealousy, and competition aren’t part of the deal.

You married Jongseong and he married you long after the two of you started doing this. The trial period was over before it even started. He loved watching you be pleasured, and you loved the way he looked at you as it happened. Of course, not all of the sex involves other people, but it never hurts the marriage when a third shows up.

“Oh–” Sunghoon swallows around his dry throat, mind running in several directions at once. He’s not sure how to respond to that information. “That’s cool, I guess.”

Jongseong stays silent, smirking a bit at the way Sunghoon, so tall and broad, stutters to find the words to say. It’s not like he straight up invited him, not yet at least.

“I couldn’t imagine doing that, considering I just left my fiancée for fucking someone else.”

Jongseong nods both understandingly and apologetically. People do tend to mix up the two. Is it cheating when he watches another person fuck you? To some people, yeah but, monogamy is natural for many people.

“I assume she didn’t tell you that she would be fucking someone else.” Jongseong shrugs, leaning back again. “I can imagine that even if she did tell you, you’d not have allowed it, right?”

Sunghoon nods.

“It puts my stomach in knots to think of someone I love wanting to be with someone else.”

“That’s fair,” Jongseong starts, glancing away and thinking of how to word what he wants to say. “What if someone else wanted you to fuck the person they love?”

Sunghoon freezes again, unsure of if he’s thinking too hard about that question, or not enough.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asks defensively, looking his neighbor dead in the eye.

“I’m not saying you have to take up this offer but, I mean, you’re a single guy. I’m a married guy, with a wife who is incredibly curious about you.”

Sunghoon continues to process the words, still overthinking it.

“Is this a joke?” He asks in a quieter voice, whispering as if the entire neighborhood can hear them.

“Are you attracted to her?” Jongseong continues to press, wondering what it’ll take to get a simple yes or no out of him. He notes the way Sunghoon’s ear goes red, and can’t tell if it’s because of the offer or because he’s afraid to call another man’s wife attractive.

“Here, let me rephrase,” He starts over, leaning forward again. “My wife thinks you’re, in her own words, ‘beautiful.’ She asks about you every time I come home from hanging out here, and she’s starting to get persistent.”

Sunghoon, still at a loss for words, slowly nods.

“She’s pretty, yeah.” He says, now leaning himself toward Jongseong and raising a brow in curiosity.

“As a single man, are you looking for love or are you looking for fun?” Jongseong continues, prying answers out of him and smiling at the way it seems he was right in believing there is interest here.

“I just got out of a six year relationship, I’m not trying to do all of that again,” Sunghoon shakes his head in disappointment. “Not for now, at least.”

“So, do you want to fuck my wife?”

Silence.

Jongseong pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily, seemingly frustrated.

“Look, does it help to know that I want to watch you fuck my wife?”

Louder silence.

“Okay, you clearly need some time to think. Just, if you’re ever interested let me know. I can open the blinds if you want, like a sample or something.”

Jongseong can see the way his eyes glisten at that offer through his silence. The wavering interest igniting right then and there. Ah, a voyeur, what a perfect addition to this neighborhood of dry vanilla cake. It’s not strange at all to see a monogamous man watching his footing in this situation, but the offer to watch is an entirely different thing from an offer to join right off the bat. Especially since there needs to be boundaries set if he decides he does want to fuck you.

For instance, when did he last get tested? Considering he got duped by his ex, that’s important. Does he like it raw? Does he know the ass belongs to Jongseong only? Etcetera.

“Can you say something? I’m starting to feel like I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“Ah, sorry. It’s just–” Sunghoon leans back with a sigh of relief at the general questioning being over and done with. “Yeah, I need to think about it.”

“Don’t think too hard,” Jongseong laughs. “It’s getting late so, if you need me I’ll be fucking my wife.”

Sunghoon watches him stand on his feet and follows the action. Feeling both closer to him and also in a rut of wondering if their entire friendship will rely on whether he wants to fuck his wife or not. Should he like, hug him goodbye or something?

He stands awkwardly as Jongseong studies him even more.

“Just think about it, really. She loves being watched too, if you don’t want to be involved directly.”

God, he can feel how red his ears and face have become, surely Jongseong knows by now that the interest outweighs the concerns. And as Jongseong turns to head down the steps, he calls out to him.

“Let’s say I’m interested but unsure of how to go about it, what then?”

Jongseong turns to him and smiles, taking a few steps closer so that he doesn’t have to yell out to him.

“It’s sex. If you know how to fuck, you fuck.“

“And if I’m not entirely ready to throw myself into your marital bed?”

“There’s still a couch, and again–” He smirks. “Like I said, opening the curtains isn’t the most insane sexual practice.”

Sunghoon being the person looking through those curtains though…is it really not as insane as he’s thinking it is?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“So…?” You ask as soon as Jongseong comes through the door, clinging to him with doe-eyes and a smile.

“He seems interested but,” Your husband slides off his shoes and heads straight for the couch to lay against it in a huff. “I don’t know. Just found out his ex cheated on him after like six years, I think the whole idea spooked him.”

“Ah, damn.” You look to the floor, and then make your way onto the couch with him. “What did you say?”

“I asked him if he wanted to fuck you.”

You narrow your eyes at him before rolling them with a frustrated sigh.

“Why would you ask him straight up like that? I cannot believe you pride yourself in being the talker of our sex life. It’s no wonder we have trouble finding people to join.”

Jongseong looks at you with a fond smirk before shaking his head at you.

“Would you feel better if I told you that he admitted to thinking you’re pretty?”

You smile, warming up next to your husband and feeling entirely safe here.

“What about if I told you that right before I came back home, he said he was interested and just didn’t know how to go about it?”

A bigger smile forms on your face as you look up at him, devious eyes glistening in the warm lighting of your living room.

“I offered that he can just watch instead. If he takes up that offer, it won't be long before he’s banging on our front door ready to show us a good time.”

You reach up to brush some of his fringe out of his face before releasing a dreamy sigh.

“He’s so handsome. Like, even from here I can tell he must be packing. I hope you’re right.” You say as Jongseong rolls his eyes, knowing damn well that Sunghoon is your type and you’re probably never gonna shut up about him. “Can’t believe someone cheated on that.”

“Alright, alright.” He playfully complains, shoving you back against the couch and practically smothering you with his form as he flops down on you. “He hasn’t accepted yet, save those compliments for if he joins. He seems pretty shy, probably likes to be doted on.”

“Ooh, shy?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. He was actually stuttering when I made the offer, I don’t think he noticed how red his face got.”

You chuckle at the mental image of Sunghoon being shy. You only had to meet him a few times to grow interest in him, but on first glance you’d think he would be the dominant type. It’s a welcome change that your husband thinks he’s the opposite.

“Do you think If I joined you next time, he might be more inclined to pull it out or something?”

“Absolutely not. I can imagine he wouldn’t even come out of his house if he saw you on his porch after what I said to him.”

“God, he’s cute.”

Jongseong nods against you in agreement, finally pulling his weight from you and standing on his feet.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun to see where this leads. Now if you’ll just follow me to the bedroom, I also told him I’d be fucking you tonight so I’d like to make good on my promise.”

Fortunately for you, Jongseong never makes a promise that he can’t keep.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

For days Sunghoon contemplates the things his neighbor said. Over the short time he’s known him, he clicked into friendship so easily and felt like he could trust him. Apparently, Jongseong felt the same way because spilling all of those intimate details right there during a regular hang out was a bit out of the blue. Then again, he can’t imagine a married man would simply offer for anyone to fuck his wife, so the pros definitely outweigh the cons of this situation.

If it was a joke, he thinks he would know by now. All he’s gotten from Jongseong since then is pleasant conversation as if the offer was never made to begin with. Which somehow makes it worse because he wants to talk about it. He wants more clarity.

God, since then, he’s had nothing but intrusive thoughts of fantasies he’s never considered before. He’s so horny out of his mind on a daily basis thinking about it, especially now that he doesn’t have his ex fiancée around. Porn has never been so loved by him until now. Even when he was a teenager, he never jerked off this much just to calm his thoughts.

The various types of porn he’s viewed within the past five days is insane. The post-nut guilt hit him pretty hard at first, sending him into both a sex crazed and sex starved stupor but, the interest only heightened from there as he would eventually start searching up porn related to the exact thing he’s been offered.

On the sixth night of contemplation, he peeks through his blinds at the house next door and notes the silence. He knows some wild things must happen in that bedroom and he wants to know what it is so badly. Naturally, he starts searching up some keywords without really knowing what any of it entails.

He watches cuckold video after cuckold video, feeling his opinions of fucking another man’s wife validated by the amount of people who seem to love it the way he wants to. Then, exhibitionism comes into play. He watches at least ten videos involving said kink, his cock growing so pathetically hard at the fact that this could be a reality if he wants. Then, voyeurism.

Good lord, that’s him. All of these videos, at least in the ten more he watches, he can easily put himself in the shoes of watching. Which only makes it more arousing when he lands on a video that is clearly scripted, but entirely too similar to what his kind neighbors offered.

There, a man watches through his window, palming himself as a woman gets absolutely railed against her own window. The camera pans to and from both ends of the scenario, for five minutes he watches the woman get fucked from the man’s window view, and then for another five minutes, he watches the man pleasure himself from her view as she moans and whimpers for him.

He watches intently, weeping cock twitching each time he closes his eyes and realizes that if he wanted it, that could be him. He could be the stranger in a window watching his neighbors get eachother off, except Sunghoon isn’t a stranger.

He doesn’t even need to watch the video to imagine now. Thousands upon thousands of videos comfort him in the idea that yeah, maybe involving himself in a marriage that isn’t his own is okay. Jongseong is a handsome guy, and pretty fit himself. Then there’s you, such a pretty fucking woman, walking around like you don’t like to get fucked by multiple people as your husband watches.

Goddamn, if there’s any couple he’d want to be involved with, it would be you and your husband.

Okay, maybe he’s interested and maybe that interest plays out the next day. Or rather, the next evening. Another Friday night, when Jongseong usually comes over to hang out except this time Sunghoon doesn’t respond to his texts until much later. Out of both nervousness and his own mind games hyping himself up.

If he’s gonna watch, he doesn’t want Jongseong to see him a mere hour or two before it happens, at least.

Now though, ten at night, he hyped up his cock the same way he hyped up his mentality. When he’s horny, it’s much easier for him to work up the courage to lay down his own hints, to show his own interest, and to play along with things he’s never delved into.

Sunghoon: Hey um

Jongseong: here I was thinking you were ignoring me or something

Sunghoon: can i ask about something?

Hell yeah he can.

Jongseong: oh? you finally warmed up to the idea?

Sunghoon: i’m just curious.

Jongseong peeps out his own window to see Sunghoon’s blinds very quickly close.

Jongseong: why’d you back away from the window?

Sunghoon: i don’t know, i feel like a weirdo

Jongseong: i invited you to watch me fuck my wife, Sunghoon.

No response.

There’s a few moments of silence on Jongseong’s end as he turns to you and flicks his head to the window.

“I’m ninety percent sure he wants me to fuck you in front of that window right now.”

“Oh?” You perk up in interest, hopping up from the bed and running over to the window beside your husband and peeking out. “Open them up then. If he watches, he watches.”

Jongseong nods, looking down at the silence of his text messages and smirking. You’re right, if Sunghoon wants to watch, he will.

And so, as you go make yourself up in the bathroom for a good first impression, Jongseong is quick to work himself up now too. Given, the two of you were about to call it a night and sleep since the day was quite exhausting, this is a welcome change of events. After all, Jongseong knows how you act when you’re both horny and exhausted. He’s sure Sunghoon will love it if he works up the courage to just look.

After a few minutes more of silence from Sunghoon’s message box, you make your way back into the room and stare at the window.

“Is his bedroom lined up with ours?” You ask, quirking a brow.

“I assume so, yeah.” Jongseong shrugs, still palming against himself lazily to get ready to put on a show.

“Oh, this could be really fun.” You say, now moving toward the window and pulling at the curtains to move them completely from Sunghoon’s presumed view.

Jongseong follows suit, raising the blinds so fast that the sound is almost laughable.

“Should I go ahead and take off my clothes, or?” You ask now, noting the way Sunghoon’s blinds are still very much closed.

“Put this on, tie it loosely and let it fall open for him.” Jongseong smiles, handing you the silk robe you only ever wear when a third is joining you.

“Oooh, perfect.” You laugh with a wiggle of your brows, stepping away from the window to completely undress and put on the robe.

Jongseong finally texts Sunghoon again when you get yourself situated, right there in the view of his dark and silent home.

Jongseong: blinds are open.

Thank god Sunghoon has read receipts on, because right as Jongseong goes to lock his phone and play with you, he notes that it’s been read and instantly glues himself against your back.

“He knows. Keep your eyes at his window, yeah baby?” Jongseong whispers before snaking an arm around you and slipping it under your robe to instantly rub against your clit.

You do exactly as he says, gluing your eyes to the window directly across from you as you slightly spread your legs and grip the windowsill. Jongseong is good at this, always great with putting on a show too. You know for a fact that even if Sunghoon doesn’t watch, you’re going to be seeing stars whenever your husband deems it appropriate.

“You think he’s gonna look?” You ask curiously with a sigh, trying not to immediately lose yourself to the feeling of his fingers against your clit, or the hand he’s currently slipping through your robe to grope and squeeze your tits.

“We can only hope, until then, just enjoy it.” Jongseong smiles against your neck, kissing the back of it before resting his chin on your shoulder, trying to work you up to where you start to slowly lose your sanity like you always do.

It works out perfectly for him, knowing that whether Sunghoon watches or not, he’s going to make damn sure you’re taken care of. His fingers expertly slide up and down your delicate folds, and his other hand pinches and rolls your nipple to the point that it’s swollen and sensitive. His kisses against your neck become peppered and gentle as he feels your legs start to shake a bit each time his fingers reach your clit again.

You try to turn your head to look at him, but he laughs.

“No, eyes on the window.” He says in a raspy whisper, pressing his barely clothed cock against your ass. Thankfully, he’s adjusted himself to where just the tip pokes out of his boxers and feeling the coolness of the silk robe offer a gentle and soft sensation, it satiates his needs for now. “Feels good even like this, yeah?” He asks, sliding his fingers down to tease with your hole.

You nod against him, breathing in deeply and turning to jelly against him. You love and hate the way he makes your body react. It’s hard to keep your eyes on that window across from you when you’re being offered sheer arousal right behind you.

“Mm, you always get so wet when you know someone might be watching.” Your husband compliments you, dipping his fingers in before sliding them out again and running them up to swirl around your clit with more pressure than before. “God, you’re soaking my fingers already babe, he doesn’t know what he’s missing out on–”

You let out a small moan, frustrated that you want Jongseong to be right. If only Sunghoon would take the two of you up on the offer. If only he would actually glimpse even for a moment. You clench at the idea of those blinds opening, grinding harshly against Jongseong’s hand with a desperate sort of sound.

Right then, you see movement next door. Jongseong can tell with the way your pussy grips his fingers tightly when he slides them back into you, and you let out a genuine and desperate moan. He flicks his eyes up, now noting the movement himself.

The way you writhe your body at the mere confirmation that Sunghoon is watching is insanely erotic to your husband. Whether it’s out of curiosity or if it’s out of arousal, it doesn't matter. He loves the way you get turned on so fast, and with this being the situation, he’s not surprised that you seem more desperate than usual. Plus, the fact that those blinds stay parted shows that Sunghoon likes what he’s seeing, and you couldn’t be more aroused by the thought of what he must be doing behind the veil of his own window-blinds.

Jongseong chuckles gently in your ear as you continue to lose your mind on his fingers, he can tell that now you’re moving to turn both him and Sunghoon on, rather than just him like moments ago. You grind more, you whine more, you get increasingly more wet.

And as you stare forward to the little space in Sunghoon’s window where his eyes sit, you grow more and more frustrated with the way he doesn’t open the blinds up. You want to see him too, you need to see if he’s touching himself.

Jongseong can tell through your frustrated moans that you need more, and like the doting husband he is, he offers a solution fairly quickly.

“What’s wrong?” He coos, fucking his fingers in again at an angle, deepening them inside of you and holding your waist in place. “He’s not giving you what you want?”

You nod brokenly, finally tearing your eyes from the window and shooting a pleading look to your husband, rolling your eyes back only slightly when his fingertips bump the soft and sensitive spot inside of you.

“My phone, use it.” Jongseong smiles, holding your waist in place tighter so he can fuck his fingers in at a harsher pace. You tremble in his grasp, unsure if you can even process the idea of texting right now. “Tell him to let you see him.”

You nod, smiling through the sensitivity of your g-spot being repeatedly assaulted, clearly on purpose, surely to have you going fucking feral. Reaching for the phone, your hands are trembling as you unlock it and read over the messages from before with Sunghoon. His curiosity is hopefully strong enough to actually stick around for the next however long, because god, you want him to see you fall apart.

Jongseong: open your blinds, let me see

Sunghoon watches you text as your body jerks with each hidden movement of Jongseong’s hand under that robe, and when his phone goes off he almost panics. Almost. He drops his cock and grabs his phone in one hand while using the other to keep the split of his blinds open enough to keep watching. Fighting the feeling of appearing like a damn stalker, despite his hips rubbing his achingly hard cock against the trim of the window.

The way Jongseong stares from behind you, the way you smirk through faces of pleasure at what he’s doing to you, at what he must be saying to you. Sunghoon has never felt so fucking aroused watching someone have what he wants. The way you skew your head to listen to what your husband is saying, the way his hands move to places he can’t see. Arguably, you look like the most fuckable person on this planet at the moment and it’s incredibly difficult to not want to fuck something, anything, right now.

Sunghoon knows he’s done for if he so much as grips his own cock by now. So quickly the thought of doing this made his pathetic cock weep against his briefs, and now, seeing it happen in real time just across the yard. Yeah, he could cum within seconds if he doesn’t try to control it. Upon reading your text though, he finds himself following precise directions and opens the blinds for you to reveal himself.

His face flushes seeing you in full without the blinds cutting off his peripheral vision. It kind of hits him differently realizing he’s in his own quiet bedroom fucking himself to the image of you propped up against the window for him. It’s embarrassing and he feels entirely pathetic when you look at him like this. Both so far away and so close at the same time. His senses are heightened tenfold the moment he sees you react.

An accidental moan spills from his lips, the sound breaking the heavy silence of his home and echoing through the walls as if to tell whatever ghosts that live here that he definitely wants to fuck around with the married couple next door. Your attraction to him only heightens the confidence he holds within himself.

You, on the other hand, can feel your arousal drip out of you and onto your husband’s hand at seeing Sunghoon coming into full view. Your hand grips at your husband’s, clumsily allowing yourself to feel the sheer force of how his fingers are plunging into you just at the right moment. You roll your head back briefly, basking in the pleasure of being fucked and watched.

“Keep watching babe,” Jongseong groans himself, flicking his eyes to Sunghoon. “He’s so hard.”

You weakly lift your head again, opening your darkened eyes and looking directly at the man through the window. His hair is a mess, fanning across his forehead, and he’s shirtless, revealing the abs you only assumed he had at first glance. His cock is heavy against his dark gray briefs, stretching the fabric out enough to tell you that, yeah, he is packing.

You make eye contact with him, staring straight into his eyes as you press your ass back and against Jongseong, who readily accepts the movement and presses his cock directly against you with a soft sigh of his own.

“Already?” He whispers to you with an amused chuckle, stilling his fingers and dropping his other hand to toy at the tie of your robe, hopefully so it falls open naturally at a quicker pace now that you appear to be losing it.

“Right now.” You respond in a desperate voice, hiking one leg up against the table off to the side and feeling your robe instantly fall open.

Your eyes devour the image of Sunghoon’s mouth falling open in what you can only assume is a moan at your naked body being revealed to him and Jongseong’s fingers rapidly fucking into you. Instantly, you shoot your hand to your chest and start toying with one of your nipples for him. Throwing a hungry gaze straight across the way and making obvious suggestions at him through it.

Jongseong from behind you is seemingly in his own little world when he pulls his fingers out and shoves his boxers down. He arches your back with his palm so that your ass lifts for him, instantly you can feel his cock between your legs. He takes a step back, pulling you with him and removing your leg from the table to position you in a way that if Sunghoon looks hard enough, he can see the way his cock slides between your thighs.

“Not yet, let’s play first.” Jongseong soothes you through the disappointed sigh of your leg being pulled down from the table. You were so ready to start fucking immediately, but of course he wants to make a good first impression. “Hold your legs together.” He adds.

You listen perfectly, feeling Jongseong’s cock slide easily between your thighs.

“God, fuck–” He moans, feeling the wetness of you drip down onto his length as you squeeze your thighs together as tightly as possible. “He would go insane over you.”

“He already is,” You chuckle weakly, staring at the way Sunghoon’s hand snakes under his briefs and tugs against himself. “I want to see it so bad.”

“Mm, yeah, I bet you do.” Jongseong responds mindlessly, loving the feeling your thighs offer to his desperate length. “Tell him then.”

Right then, Sunghoon can see a mischievous little smile form across your lips as he struggles already not to release against his perfectly cleaned window. The way Jongseong manhandles you is one thing, with his hands gripping onto your flesh just to pound his cock between your legs– fuck. But, the way both of you stare straight at him is another. Sunghoon might be obsessed with the way the two of you touch each other intentionally to get all three of you off. So badly does he want to be right there in the room, hearing you in his ear, watching Jongseong kiss across your skin and massage your pretty sensitive pussy. One that he hasn’t entirely even gotten to see yet.

Then, he jumps as his phone rings.

From your end, you watch as he jumps out of surprise, glances at his phone, then back at you, shaking his head with a wince as he grips his cock again.

“He’s not going to pick up.” You comment as the tightened squeeze of your thighs loosen up with disappointment.

Jongseong is instantly smiling, letting his cock fall from its place of stimulation and is pulling you back, back, back. Offering a full view of him falling back on the bed, and you falling with him.

“Show him your pussy.” Jongseong says, reaching around you to open your thighs as if you’re a grand prize for this little sex game of trying to seduce a broken hearted man.

Jongseong knows he has an entire list of positions he could do to get Sunghoon just as desperate as you get. Usually, presenting his wife’s pussy at another man is enough to have them making decisions they previously doubted. He hopes Sunghoon reacts the same, because if he’s being totally honest with himself, saying no to you when you’re spread out like this is a fucking sin.

You stare at Sunghoon when your husband spreads your legs, pussy pulsing around nothing more than the stare being directed at it. And there, sitting on Jongseong’s hips with your back facing him, you easily hold your legs open and slide your fingers down to circle your clit.

You stay like that for a moment, squinting to see Sunghoon’s reaction and noting the way his hand fucks faster under the fabric of his briefs. You want him to go harder, so hard that he needs to take that last remaining bit of clothing off of him so that you can see. Thankfully, Jongseong’s cock lies right below where your ass is sitting , and it’s easy to grasp it and hold it up against your folds. You grid against it gently before swirling your clit along the length of him, still staring at Sunghoon with a smile. As if to tell him, “this could be you.”

The way Sunghoon’s hand moves faster is one thing, the way he looks more unashamed now compared to when you first saw him in that window is another. The way his arms flex as he keeps his cock hidden beneath those briefs, jerking himself off desperately as if you can’t tell he’s struggling not to moan loud enough for you to hear even from here, it’s too fucking erotic.

Never have you and your husband had a neighbor to play with like this. Typically, you’re being watched in the same room, this is something entirely different. This is insanely arousing and you can feel your pussy clench each time you’re reminded of how fucking sweet this deal could be.

“Keep doing that” Jongseong continues to instruct through a half-moan, feeling the way you rub his length against you as a form of masturbation. “I’ll call him again.”

This time, you note how the phone rings once before Sunghoon is fumbling to answer. You see the way his hand stills to put his focus on saying “hello?” as if he doesn’t know it’s you and your husband. As if the people calling him aren’t watching him fuck himself.

Jongseong starts immediately though, his words driving you insane enough to know Sunghoon would have to react in a way that sends him over edge too.

“You wouldn’t believe how wet she is,” Your husband boasts without greeting him back, putting the phone on speaker and lying it next to the two of you. “I bet you would love to bury your tongue in her right now, wouldn’t you?”

Sunghoon nearly stutters as he hears the words, staring at the way you hold Jongseong’s cock right where you want it to grind against. It’s so much to be able to see and hear what’s happening, and it’s like something in his head clicks. He’s so fucking turned on that he feels like he’s going insane, so he puts his normal, level-minded self to rest. No room for embarrassment when his cock is already aching for the couple who seem to want him just as bad.

“Fuck, yeah,” Sunghoon sighs out, lying his own phone down against the window sill and fucking his hips forward into his hand. His briefs now stretched out to the point that they truly are more of an issue than anything else right now. “I would, god, how wet?”

You moan at how desperate his voice sounds, now pressing your clit directly against the head of Jongseong’s cock and deliberately making yourself moan from pleasure. When he flashes his cock to you though, fuck. Just barely he lowers his briefs, palm teasing himself in such a harsh way. He looks so pretty over there, all alone, watching someone else get to play with you like some kind of pervert.

“That’s it,” You say, knowing he can hear you. “Let me see you.”

Sunghoon does, shoving his briefs down entirely now, allowing you to imprint the image of how thick and heavy his length is in your brain permanently.

“Oh, you’d feel so good,” You half-groan to Sunghoon, now inching your husband’s cock straight to your hole and preparing to fuck the daylights out of him. “I knew you’d have a cock just as pretty as you.”

Jongseong chuckles from behind you, entirely aroused by the way you talk to another man, a more shy man. He can tell how desperate you are by now too, especially with the way you toy with his cock as if you picked it up from a store shelf and it’s not attached to him. He loves it. And when he sits up, wrapping his arms around you to also see Sunghoon, he smiles.

Both of you are totally fucking gone. Even from here he can tell Sunghoon is losing his mind over you. Thankfully, you deserve nothing less and Jongseong couldn’t be happier to play off of the way you both seem to want each other terribly.

“See this?” He says towards the phone, snaking his hand around you to move his cock and spreading your pussy lips. ”Even from there, can’t you see how wet she is for this?”

Both of you can hear Sunghoon’s muffled groan before you see it, his head falling forward against the window as he stares down at his hand and the way he fucks it. You’re entirely satisfied, because you know what he’s thinking. You can see how badly he wants it, and your husband does nothing but remind him of it.

“Do you want me to fuck him?” You finally ask, pushing your own agenda and rising up on your knees to situate yourself right above Jongseong’s length, where he takes over and holds it in place for you.

Sunghoon’s eyes shoot back to the two of you and he nods before breathing out a small “Yeah…”

He doesn’t seem like much of a talker, but it could still be stage fright. Even if he isn’t the one on the damn stage. You can imagine he would get better at this if he accepts the invite of your open blinds on more than one occasion.

Jongseong chuckles again at him, the breathy tone of his voice is quite obvious to him. Sunghoon is holding out, he doesn’t want to cum too soon and end the fun.

“You heard him babe, ride me.”

Instantly, you’re sinking down and feeling the harsh stretch of Jongseong’s cock pulsing inside of you. Your drawn out moan rings in Sunghoon’s mind as he watches the slow descent. Only now, noting how big Jongseong is, and seeing how well you take it. He twitches in his palm, eyes nearly rolling back to escape the overwhelming arousal that floods his thoughts.

Sunghoon isn’t sure if either of you are aware, but he can hear how wet you are through the phone. When you slide down and start bouncing, all while staring forward at him, he can hear it pour out of you. The slapping of your ass landing against Jongseong is a beautiful sound, and he does his best not to moan through it and muffle those sounds out.

He stares straight back at you, thinking hard enough at how he fucks the circle his fingers create. He’s losing his breath when he fucks his fist in time with the way you bounce, tuning into your face and imagining that he’s the one you’re riding. No offense to Jongseong, it’s nearly like he doesn’t exist right now considering he’s almost entirely hidden by you.

That doesn’t last too long though, because Jongseong makes himself well known through his breathy words. Dirty talking in a way that somehow, Sunghoon still finds himself shocked by it. The words turn him on, he can only imagine how you feel about.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight.” Jongseong says at first, gripping your thighs and basking in the way you squeeze his length each time Sunghoon does something to turn you on. “ All spread out like this for him? So, so good.”

Sunghoon feels so shameless, and for some reason it feels okay. Your husband is dirty talking to you about him and it’s insanely sexy when he hears it. Already stuttering his hips in his palm, especially when he notes that Jongseong moves his hands to your pussy and spreads it open again for him. Offering him the perfect view of his length sliding in and out of you.

“Would love to see how this pussy gets filled up, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Unsure if Jongseong is talking to you or to him at this point, Sunghoon answers without thinking.

“Fuck, yeah, fuck–” Sunghoon says with a cut-off groan, holding the base of his cock so tight he feels like he can’t breathe. He can’t release yet, he has to keep going.

You moan loudly at his breathed out answer, nodding your head frantically at the confirmation, answering for yourself shortly after.

“Yeah?” You start, encouraging Sunghoon to keep talking. “You think you could stretch me open too? Yeah?”

And then? He moans brokenly through the phone which instantly has you leaning yourself back, and lying against Jongseong’s chest. He falls back with you, holding you and once again and moving his fingers to your clit, his cock still pounding in at the perfect pace.

“Fuck, she’s there–” Jongseong grits out, feeling your orgasm wash over you and grip his cock insanely tightly. “Goddamn, feels so good babe, that’s it.”

Sunghoon, watching and listening, instantly releases the grip on the base of his cock, staring straight at the way Jongseong stuffs his length inside of you. Hearing the way you called his name with encouraging words echoes in his head, and then he stutters out a broken sob as he feels his own orgasm wash over him, and just like him, you’re also listening.

He must hold his breath when he’s close, or maybe he’s just way more shy than he appears to be, considering what he’s doing right now, but you don’t mind as you ride your own high. Ears popping shortly after when Jongseong continues to chase his own pleasure through the mess of your pulsing cunt.

Strangely enough, even Jongseong is shocked at how fast he cums from this. Releasing a mere two seconds after you relaxed around him. You can feel him pulse inside of you as you lie against him, pussy still on full display, cum dripping out of you in a beautiful scene for Sunghoon’s eyes to devour.

And devour, they do. Sunghoon just stares, head spinning as he ignores the spurts of cum hitting his window and dripping down onto his carpet. His hand is also drenched but he makes no attempt to move afterwards. Arguably, he’s still aroused by the image of the way your husband fills you up like that, and the way you’re so full of his cock that it dribbles out and onto your thighs from around him.

God, he wants to lick you so bad. Even now, fully spent and his sober-mind coming back to him, he wants to taste you. He wants to taste what Jongseong just spilled into you.

“Sunghoon,” Jongseong calls out, breaking the silence with an out of breath voice. “You still watching?”

There’s another moment of paused silence.

“Yeah–”

Jongseong smiles, nuzzling his face against you and your neck as you continue to lean against him out of breath. Slowly, he pulls out of you, once again spreading you open for Sunghoon to see, allowing the rest of his cum to drip out of you.

“Take a good look, because this pussy went fucking insane over you.” He says, slapping your sensitive clit twice before sliding his hand down and playing in the mess he’s made of you.

Sunghoon does look. He has been looking. Honestly, it’s almost embarrassing at the way his cock twitches with interest again, so fucking fast after having already been emptied. Never has his ex let him raw her like that. Never has he seen his cum drip out of someone. He’s so jealous right now.

“I’ll be coming over tomorrow to discuss this.” Jongseong adds nonchalantly, easily going from filth-talk to casual-talk. “Get some rest.”

“Goodnight, Pretty boy.” You call out with a dazed smile, finally moving yourself off of Jongseong and adjusting your robe back onto your shoulders.

And right before Jongseong hangs up the phone, both of you smile at each other at the way Sunghoon lets out, in the tiniest voice for such a broad man, a gentle little “Goodnight.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By morning, Sunghoon nearly forgot Jongseong said he was coming over. It wasn’t until the afternoon when he managed to get the image of you getting off out of his mind that he remembered there’s supposed to be a discussion about it.

Embarrassment hits him harder than it ever has, thinking about what he was doing for both of you to see. It wasn’t just a show for him, he put one on for the two of you as well.

When he makes his way back into his bedroom, he tries to ignore the fact that your blinds are still open, and there’s no one in the room. He pauses briefly, once again trapped in the on-going loop of what he saw happening on that very bed just the night before.

It feels like he’s doomed when Jongseong comes over. He could just not answer the door but it doesn’t change the fact that he lives right next door and he already came all over his window before your very eyes. Before Jongseong’s very eyes. He’s already crossed the boundary into someone else’s marriage and despite loving the idea of it, it’s scary. It’s not something he’s ever considered doing before meeting the two of you, and now, he’s kind of just confused as to how all of this works.

Like, it almost seems too sweet of a deal. You’re a beautiful couple, who is he to be able to watch what you do with your husband? What’s the catch?

Well, he comes to find out that there isn’t much of a catch at all. Jongseong shows up with a warm smile and a gift of wine. It felt welcoming but insanely awkward with the way it’s the first time Sunghoon has ever been offered a hug by him.

They hug. Jongseong fucking hugs him to say hello with that expensive ass bottle of wine as if to say “nice cock, my wife loved it.”

Jongseong does pick up on the awkwardness though, stepping through Sunghoon’s door and inviting himself in. After all, it’s only appropriate at this point. He keeps his smile though, loving the way you woke up in a good mood all thanks to Sunghoon letting his curiosity get the best of him.

“Don’t be like that,” Jongseong says, glancing around the house and nodding in approval that it doesn’t appear to be entirely barren. He kind of expected the house to not feel like a home, because that’s usually what single men do. “You can back out anytime you want.”

Sunghoon, somehow, feels eased by those words. His heart thumps against his chest at the thought of never doing it again though. Which is kind of weird to him.

“Sorry, I just don’t really know how to act right now...”

Jongseong offers him a warm smile again, seeing himself to the kitchen and opening the drawers.

“We can talk about that,” He waves him off, still rummaging through a kitchen that isn’t his own. “You got a corkscrew?”

Sunghoon nods, trying to make his frame seem as small as possible by tip-toeing past his neighbor with the huge cock and opening one of the only drawers he didn’t get to. He pulls out the corkscrew and hands it to him, making no attempt to look into his eyes even for a second.

“Oh my god, loosen up.” Jongseong rolls his eyes, shoving Sunghoon by the shoulder playfully and heading back to the bottle of wine.

Sunghoon feels slightly comforted by the fact that maybe he can loosen up with a bit of wine in his system, but getting to that point feels like it’s going to be hell. He’s never felt so embarrassed.

“Sorry,” He responds in a small voice, grabbing two random cups and following Jongseong. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to expect out of this whole thing, like–”

Jongseong cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“That’s why I’m here to talk to you about it. Clearly this isn’t something you’ve done before, it’s not like we didn’t want you to get off or anything. You’ll come to learn that we enjoy this kind of thing.”

He pauses as he opens the bottle, shifting it to the side now to grab two cups and look at Sunghoon.

“If you end up not enjoying it, there’s always someone else we can find to take up the offer.”

Sunghoon very nearly panics, hoping it doesn’t show plainly on his face as he takes over pouring the wine. Jongseong picks up on people so easily, watching Sunghoon shake his head slightly at the words and pour a suspiciously nervous amount of wine into both cups.

“That’s the thing though,” Sunghoon says, popping the cork back into the bottle and already taking a swig of his wine. “I did enjoy it. I mean, I do enjoy it.”

Jongseong raises his brow, nodding his head in encouragement and grabbing his own cup before following Sunghoon to his living room.

��Good, I’m glad you had fun. Let’s talk about it then.”

Sunghoon knows it’s inevitable, and hopefully within the next hour, he won’t feel so cautious in talking about it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You know, usually I wouldn’t let her cum so fast,” Jongseong shrugs, standing to grab the bottle of wine and bring it into the living room. “I tend to try and get a few out of her but she just wasn’t going to let me. Did you see the way she grabbed it and sat on me? I couldn’t have stopped her even if I wanted to.”

The way Jongseong talks loudly and comfortably about it is kind of soothing. Given, this is probably why they’re opting to hang out inside of the house rather than outside. This is a private matter, an intimate one, even.

“She slept like a rock afterwards, and is now insisting we keep the blinds open at all times to view at your discretion.”

Sunghoon stutters a bit, scooting his cup towards Jongseong and hoping he pours another generous amount into his cup. Already, since he doesn’t drink too often these days, he can feel the buzz and comfort settles within him as Jongseong seemingly dotes on him.

“What I’m trying to say is, our blinds are permanently open unless you’d rather not do this. Alternatively, the door is open too, but,” Jongseong pauses so he can sip his drink. “You’re going to need to get tested first if you want that thing anywhere near my wife.”

Sunghoon shifts slightly, squeezing his legs together uncomfortably as his wine bubbles in his belly.

“I’ve already been tested. My ex cheated on me with god knows how many people, you think that wasn’t the first thing I did?”

“Smart man,” Jongseong claps him on the shoulder, now leaning in a bit too close for comfort if Sunghoon were still in his embarrassed mind-state. “We get that you’re shy about all of this, but I’ve gotta tell you, the way she clenched when you moaned, oh man.”

Sunghoon’s eyes start to shine at the compliment, for some reason feeling like he’s on top of the world hearing that.

“Felt like I was being strangled, honestly.” Jongseong laughs before going quiet. “So, what do you think?”

Sunghoon pauses, staring at his cup and then at his neighbor.

“I, um–” He sighs out of frustration, wondering why he can’t articulate a damn sentence with confidence. “I liked watching, I guess. Not sure if I’m ready to just…”

“Come over and fuck my wife?” Jongseong finishes his sentence playfully before immediately gripping Sunghoon’s shoulder and laughing fondly at him. “Take your time. Like I said, the blinds are open and we have a pretty active sex life. I can imagine you’re going to wonder how I’m not milked dry yet.”

He already wonders that.

“But I do want to say, if you decide to actually come over and show her a good time, there are rules to that.”

Sunghoon quirks a brow, unsure of if his mind is running in a way that will let him take down mental notes.

“First of all, she’s protected so as long as you can provide proof of your test you can cum in her all you want, she likes that but, you’re not touching her ass.”

Sunghoon nods, shrugging nonchalantly and surprised he even responded that way.

“She likes it rough but she doesn’t know you well enough yet. Don’t slap my wife, don’t grab her neck with the intention of choking her, and don’t call her any type of degrading name. Not yet, at least.”

Wow, his brain is actually taking down the mental notes perfectly. Even with these rules, he’s not entirely into hitting the person he wants to be inside of, not unless they ask anyway.

“That’s it. Those are the rules.” Jongseong says with a shrug, taking another drink and tapping his foot on the floor. “What about you? For possible future endeavors, what’re your terms?”

There’s a long pause. Sunghoon is totally unprepared to make rules for a situation he’s never even been involved with before, but he does his best.

“Well,” He breathes out, blowing a strand of his fringe up from his forehead in a huff. “I don’t know. Don’t put anything in my ass?”

“Well, that’s sucks,” Jongseong deadpans, then nods. “But fair, okay. What else?”

Sunghoon continues to let his eyes wander around his living room as he thinks of things he doesn’t like sexually.

“I really don't know. I’ve mostly just had normal sex. I can tell you what I do like?” He admits, knowing that all of this is just in case.

“Alright, go on then.” Jongseong nods, now topping off their drinks.

It’s actually hilarious to him, hearing Sunghoon list off the most mundane sex acts. He does his best not to chuckle at the mention of “blow jobs, I like those.” Instead, he offers something along with that, interrupting him.

“Ever been deep throated?” Jongseong asks, watching Sunghoon breathe in because it’s like he lost all of his breath trying to list off things he likes. “Like, you know, ever face-fucked?”

Sunghoon nods, then shakes his head, then nods.

“ I mean, my ex never really let me hold her head in place, but I tried once. And don’t even get me started on the way she would refuse to continue if she gagged even once.”

Jongseong shakes his head in pity.

“Man, you’re gonna love my wife.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well, to put it lightly, Sunghoon might, definitely, insanely, obsessively be in love with you. Not in like the “leave your husband” way but more in like the “i want you so bad and know that i’m allowed to have you if i’d just stop being a little bitch about it” way.

It’s been another entire week since Jongseong came over to discuss things with him and even more so now, is Sunghoon’s mind in the gutters. He’s thankful he’s good at his job, almost able to do everything needed without much thought behind it because if that weren’t the case, he would probably be fired by now.

Fired for being too horny at work isn’t something he ever considered would happen to himself, and though it hasn’t and probably won’t, he isn’t too shocked at this point to be learning more and more about these hidden little interests that only came to light when he met you and your husband.

Those blinds do stay open, and that little bedside lamp in your bedroom has become one of his favorite things. One, because it illuminates the way your body moves when Jongseong inevitably fucks the breath out of you, and two, because it’s actually kind of a nice lamp.

And god, his window. His poor fucking window. Four out of the seven nights since Jongseong came over has he been standing right there, blinds open, getting himself off. He knows he’s a pervert by this point. He embraces it now, knowing for a fact that you’re also embracing it, and even Jongseong is too.

The embarrassment that hits him after each time he releases hurts much less than the post-nut guilt of all that porn he was watching before all of this happened. He’s not sure why, but there’s something inside of him that tells him it’s because he’s wanted. He’s being fawned over by an entire married couple and it makes his confidence go through the fucking roof.

That second time he stood at his window, he was still unsure of it. But now, three more sessions later, he finds himself considering the offer of being in the room. Each time he thinks he should do it. You know, like release his cock mid-jerk off session just to run next door and barge into the room to bury himself inside of you, all while Jongseong allows it to happen and praises him for manning up to do it.

He hasn’t yet though, because most of the time he struggles to pull his eyes away from how fucking good the two of you look together. And you know, to him, when he thinks about actually being in that room with the two of you, there’s still some shame left in him about it.

Something about the idea of joining a married couple despite how much he loves watching them, the idea of them asking him multiple times to work his body on you, the idea of them leaving their blinds open just so he can get off at his own volition.

It’s such an insane fantasy come to life and the shame he feels about actually following through stays despite it wavering with each time he watches and listens in by calling you himself to hear you moan.

Again, by now, an entire week later and several sessions of pure voyeurism, he questions that shame and wonders how much it’ll take to ignore it. Next time for sure he’s going to go over there. Next time, he’s going to put that shame to rest like he did the first time with simply watching.

That next time doesn’t happen though, because you’re not wandering around your room naked for Sunghoon to see when his alarm goes off. Because yeah, it’s kind of a ritual now to look out the window and nod a little “good morning” to you and your tits.

When he looks outside near the afternoon, both cars in your driveway are gone and it hits him over how fixated he is on the two of you. It feels almost empty seeing the two of you gone on a weekend, when Jongseong is usually texting him to see if he wants to hang out.

By this point for him, yes, come over please.

Then, relief washes over him when he hears Jongseong’s car pull into the driveway. The amount of pining within Sunghoon at this moment is driving him insane. It’s only four in the afternoon by this point and his mind is reeling. Going miles a minute and honestly, he needs this overwhelming feeling to be eradicated.

He needs to do it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jongseong is shocked as he sits eating his dinner to the sound of a knock at his door. He’s swift when he stands to his feet and answers it.

“Oh, was gonna text you to hang out after dinner–” He pauses, realizing this is the first time Sunghoon has ever been on his doorstep save for when he greeted them with a meal after he moved in. He eyes him up and down momentarily before smirking. “Well, well, well.”

Sunghoon doesn’t quite make eye contact as he stands there and shoves the proof of his tests into Jongseong’s chest, already regretting the decision to come over without so much as texting.

“Showing up looking like this, already hard too?” Jongseong says snidely, glancing at the results and leaning himself against his door frame. His eyes stare directly at Sunghoon’s obvious raging hard-on beneath his pants, then he glances up at his face.

Sunghoon appears to be both ashamed and proud, presenting himself like a damn virgin.

“Relax, it’s cool. You can come in,” Jongseong finally says, trying to ease the tension that seems to be festering within his friend. “I’ll call and see if she’s coming home tonight.”

Sunghoon is fucking mortified. Of course he’s bad at timing. Of fucking course he shows up ready to fuck and you’re not even here. Now he’s just left standing just inside of the front door with a desperate and pathetic cock that, for some reason, still isn’t even going down.

“She’s. not. here.” Sunghoon says to himself loud enough for Jongseong to throw a laugh at him, putting the phone up to his ear after pressing the call button.

“She went to see her parents. I bet the second I tell her you’re standing there like that, hot ‘n hard, she’ll be running red lights.”

Sunghoon is flushed. Entirely aroused by this whole situation despite the embarrassment. The last thing he needs to admit to right now though, is getting off on the shameful way he’s acting. He knows he looks desperate, and that…for some reason, makes him feel proud.

He’s so in his head that he doesn’t even hear Jongseong talk to you. Completely misses the way he says into the phone “hey babe, guess who is standing in our living room right now? so hard it looks like he might cry.”

Totally misses the brief pause and then Jongseong’s response of, “yeah, you might wanna rush.”

Luckily for him though, he’s so in his head that time flies as he tries to will his length to go down just a little bit. It’s frustrating, really, to only learn certain things as they happen to him, but like, damn. He really feels like he’s about to burst already, just standing here with a woman’s husband who is knowingly about to let him fuck her.

“You’re not usually this quiet.” Jongseong finally says to Sunghoon, who is still just standing there in the living room. “You nervous?”

Sunghoon instantly nods, throwing his hands in front of his hard-on and looking at Jongseong.

“This is the worst, actually,” Sunghoon starts, shifting from one leg to the other and glancing away. “Fuck you guys for being so enticing.”

Jongseong shrugs proudly, offering a smile and then nodding his head as if to invite Sunghoon to sit on the couch.

“She’ll be here soon, I’m just going to clean up. Don’t think too hard and take off running, she’s excited.”

Sunghoon nods reluctantly, taking a seat on the couch and staring up at the ceiling in defeat. Jumping out of a window sounds pretty nice but by this point he assumes every window he will ever touch probably has his cum on it by now. You know, association and stuff.

Then, he hears a car pull up and he’s practically throwing himself to his feet. His balance turning him into a clumsy mess, totally forgetting how to navigate his body and entirely losing the ability to know how to navigate this entire situation.

The good news for him though, is that you practically jump out of your car and sprint for the door. Not even greeting Jongseong when you rush inside and kick off your shoes.

All Sunghoon knows is that, one second he stands to his feet and gets a head rush, then he hears a door slam, Jongseong letting out a breathy laugh, and then you slamming into him and practically knocking him back down onto the couch.

“All this time you made me watch? And now you show up when I’m at dinner with my parents.” You playfully scold him, immediately straddling him and grabbing his face with both hands so that he can look at you. “You’re going to have to tie me up if you don’t want me to be all over you right now.”

Sunghoon looks at Jongseong with a stunned expression, receiving a simple shrug in response.

“You want her to touch you?” He asks, heading for the bedroom and raising his voice to continue. “If not, I do have rope.”

Sunghoon looks at you, still totally stunned by how fucking fast you got on top of him. He’s rendered more speechless than you’ve ever made him, and his cock twitches painfully from the sensitivity of you sitting on top of him.

He nods politely, dipping his head and looking down.

“You can touch me.” He whispers, only to be cut off by Jongseong shouting from the bedroom.

“You guys gonna come into the bedroom, or?” He yells, peeking around the corner and shooting a look at you specifically, as if to remind you to pace yourself considering that Sunghoon is entirely new to this and still seems like a deer in the headlights.

You nod to Jongseong and then lift Sunghoon’s face back up to you again.

“I can tell your heart is racing,” You say to him in a fond tone, tilting your head playfully. “It’s okay, come on.” You add, pulling yourself off of him and grabbing his hand.

He stares at the way you intertwine your fingers. Feeling like if he thinks hard enough, you’re not married and you’re more into him than just sex. Then again, he doesn’t want to think about that at all. The whole reason he’s so turned on is because this is considered strange to most people he knows. He doesn’t even want to be in love, he doesn’t want to be in a relationship with any single person right now.

What he wants is this. What he wants is to watch you through his window, and lust over you, and then get to have you. Time and time again. What he wants is for Jongseong to always share you with him, because he can barely cross his own boundaries, better yet crossing someone else's.

At least with him, you’d be safe. Jongseong wouldn’t have to worry about broken rules or him coming into your home to take full control. This isn’t his relationship, it’s yours, and if the two of you want him involved even with just sex, he’s leaping for the opportunity at this point.

There, he’s led into the bedroom where Jongseong looks at him with a fond expression. Sunghoon stares for a moment, then looks around the room. It feels like he’s been pining to be in this very room for ages, and knowing he’s standing here right now feels even more overwhelming.

He glances at the window, looking through it into his own open blinds and the embarrassment hits him twice as hard, which obviously has his cock aching in arousal. He isn’t even ashamed of the little, breathy whimper of defeat he lets out at this moment, rolling his eyes back and furrowing his brows.

You let go of Sunghoon and take your place beside Jongseong, both of you checking Sunghoon out from head to toe before looking at each other and smiling.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Jongseong admits, feeling defeated that for the first time in his sex life with you, he doesn’t know how to get the ball rolling. “Why does this feel so intimate compared to usual?”

You laugh, now staring down both of them, wanting nothing more than to fuck and be fucked. The air in this room feels electrifying, and already you have goosebumps rising against your skin. It feels like heaven.

“Probably because he’s so close to home,” You chuckle, feeling totally in control with two lost men staring at you as if they want to eat you alive. “Isn’t that right, Sunghoon?” You say, taking a step towards him and already lifting your shirt off of you.

Just as quickly as Jongseong loses his ability to be the one in control, he gains it back after seeing how confident you are. He knows for a fact how badly you want to be on Sunghoon right now, and he has no qualms with that, but part of the fun is being able to present you until the third in the room is practically drooling.

“Not too quickly,” Jongseong warns, pulling you back by the arm and wrapping his arms around you, dipping his head down to kiss your neck and look Sunghoon directly in the eye. “Just look at him for a bit.”

Sunghoon feels so fucking seen right now, his cock still wildly twitching at each word and glance. He very nearly falls to his knees right then, because in all fairness he’s been rock hard all fucking day and intentionally held off so that he would be so out of his mind, that surely he’d fuck you as good as you need him to.

“Jongie, I’ve been watching him.” You say, leaning against his warmth and devouring Sunghoon with your eyes, “C’mere, Hoonie.” You add, giving both men shortened versions of their names to show your adoration for them at this moment.

Sunghoon manages to take a step forward without his knees buckling from under him, his eyes scanning your bare torso and the way your chest is hidden by your bra. He can’t not stare, after all, he’s grown accustomed to it by now. He knows what's under that bra and what’s under those pants, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he’s never seen your body this close. He’s never touched you before.

“Well?” Jongseong looks at him as he makes his way across the room a bit too slowly for his liking. “We have all day, technically.”

Sunghoon switches his eyes over to Jongseong, who seems amused by how enamored he is right now with you. His mind is fairly blank right now, outside of thinking about everything he wants to do, everything he wishes he could say, but still, all he can manage to do is stand in front of you, still not reaching out. He looks at the way Jongseong has you locked in his arms, holding you still against his chest as if to tame a beast from him.

“You’re so pretty, Sunghoon, really.” You say, blinking up at him and tapping Jongseong to loosen his grip on you. “You can touch me too, you know.”

He’s still reluctant, looking to Jongseong once again for confirmation and receiving a nod. His hands reach out, touching nothing more than your bare shoulder before sliding down your waist and stepping even closer.

You can feel the warmth radiating off of them as they sandwich you there between them. Jongseong and his confident breaths behind you easily contrast to Sunghoon’s deeper, nervous breathing. You kind of get now why your husband told you to just watch for a little bit longer. Sunghoon is so readable, with the way his eyes can’t find where to land, the way his hands know where they want to go but he clearly holds back from doing too much too soon out of fear that this entire agreement will shatter before his very eyes.

You hum out happily, leaning your head back against Jongseong and pressing your hips forward, against Sunghoon. Feeling entirely loved, wanted, needed.

“I missed this feeling,” You sigh out with a pleasured smile, throwing an arm out and over Sunghoon’s shoulder, pulling him even closer. “I bet you’ll miss it too. I bet you’ll keep coming back for it.”

Jongseong hums as well, nodding his head in agreement before blinking over at Sunghoon and lifting a brow. He wonders how long they’re going to stand here staring at each other so, rolling his eyes dismissively, he presses on.

“I want to watch you eat her out.” Jongseong announces, feeling that it’s not too out of the ordinary to make suggestions since Sunghoon appears to be totally blinded by your tits right now anyway.

Sunghoon nods with empty eyes, shortly before you see him physically break out of his presumed trance and take a step back, very nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Wait, really?” He asks, somehow still unsure that this is a thing that’s actually happening as he regains balance.

“Oh, absolutely.” Jongseong encourages him, using the emptied up space in front of you to maneuver you over to the bed.

Sunghoon watches as your husband sits you down on the bed, grabs two pillows and places them behind you, then shimmies your pants off of you in a very loving way. He doesn’t know whether to be jealous of Jongseong for being able to love someone enough to pleasure them using others or to be jealous of you for being loved so blatantly.

“Sunghoon,” Jongseong calls out, tapping your legs to spread them out and taking a step back to make room. “Go on.”

Sunghoon’s legs take him there before his brain can think twice. One second he’s looking at you from the angle of the center of the room, the next he’s falling to his knees, staring straight between your legs at the point of his lust for the last however long. Slender fingers gripping your thighs much the same way Jongseong did the first night he saw the two of you together like this.

It continues to hit him like a freight train. He’s here. He’s doing this. Not even a year ago he was sleeping in a different place, with a fiancée, making calls to find venues for a fucking wedding, and now he’s here. Between the legs of another man’s wife, at his request.

Why is he so pleased with the drastic change of events? Why is his mouth watering looking at the small damp spot seeping through your panties? Why does he feel like he isn’t even himself at this moment?

None of it matters, not when you reach out and run your fingers through his hair to urge him forward. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose because it’s been a long time since he felt the loving touch of another person in his hair like this.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt the warmth of a woman in front of him, and even longer since he last felt this drunk on the atmosphere around him. Your soft fingers scratch against his scalp, and that alone makes his entire body shiver as he nuzzles against your thigh lovingly, leaving his kiss against your skin for the first time.

Jongseong watches, not entirely used to a man acting like this with his wife. Usually, they’re already trying to get their cock inside of her, but Sunghoon seems to be basking in the touch and feel of it all through each step and in a way, he understands. He was with someone for six years and planned to spend his life with her, he can imagine this is something Sunghoon missed doing, despite the bitch not even wanting to gag on him.

He feels fond watching the two of you, situating himself on the bed and letting you lean up against him. There, he starts to work your bra off of you, matching Sunghoon’s slowly paced arousal.

You, on the other hand, feel like your body is catching fire. That little gentle kiss against your thigh was followed by several more, peppered up to your panty line, down to your knees, and then right back up before he even thinks about leaving a kiss against the seat of your panties.

Which, he does eventually get to doing. Jongseong watches your body jolt at the touch. He can tell you’ve been anticipating it since Sunghoon got on his knees but knows you’re both pacing yourselves for the sake of him being able to enjoy himself.

Jongseong’s hands do remain on your tits through it, massaging and pinching against your nipples until they’re erect and sending jolts of sensations straight to your clit. Thankfully, Sunghoon appears to be preparing himself to see your arousal up close and personal by this point, keeping his lips right up against it as his fingers toy with the hem of your panties.

He looks up at you, still searching for confirmation on instinct and can’t help but feel that the green light was given the second he moved into the house next door with the way you both look at him.

You’re not the only one being loved on right now. He feels entirely taken care of simply for being able to go down on you, and he wants nothing more in this world than to make you feel good.

So, he does his best. Reaching his arms forward and gripping the sides of your panties before gently pulling them down. He watches as your, by now very wet, panties unstick from your folds as he reveals it to himself and honestly, he doesn’t even care at this point with how he blatantly moans over it.

And just as you thought he was going to take his time like before, it’s like your entire world is flipped upside down. You take in a sharp and surprised inhale at the way he’s got his tongue on you the second your panties hit the floor.

Jongseong chuckles at your surprise, internally praising Sunghoon for that sudden jolt of confidence he must have gotten to do that after unintentionally teasing you for far too long. He can feel your nipples react to what he’s doing, and through the sound of Sunghoon’s tongue, his groans through the taste of you, even he feels like he’s going insane just sitting with you against him like this.

“Ah, fuck,” You moan out, feeling the way his tongue leaves no part of your pussy unexplored. “Fuuuck.” You continue, totally speechless and unable to praise him the way you’d very much like to right now.

When you run your fingers through his hair again, feeling the way he moves his head beneath them, the way he stiffens his tongue as he slides it up your entire pussy, then lands on your clit and begins to flick his tongue at such a pace? You can’t help it when your legs nearly close in on him, shaking against his ears.

Jongseong is there though, quickly reaching down to hold your legs open for him.

“Sensitive?” He gleefully whispers to you, watching the way you grip Sunghoon’s hair in your fingers through the obvious struggle. He knows you won’t answer, which is fine, because he loves when you get like this. Though it’s never through a man simply giving you some good head.

Sunghoon continues his assault with his tongue, so drunk on the taste of you that all he can do is keep going. Keep tasting, flicking your clit until it’s swollen before sliding back down again and burying his tongue inside of you as deep as it’ll go. Like he can’t get enough, especially with the way your hips wiggle to get away, with the way your fingers try to weakly tug his head away from you.

He hopes this is exactly what Jongseong wanted to see, because he couldn’t be happier to fulfill the request. Moaning into you only to breathe nothing but you back in. His cock still neglected from a full day of arousal, tasting you alone is soaking his pants. Never has he felt so desperate for something. Never.

Even when he can feel the bed shift and your legs close around his head again, he continues.

“Hold her legs open for me,” Jongseong instructs as he pulls himself off of the bed, now seemingly so aroused that he feels the need to involve himself. He shimmies off his clothing and props himself back up on the bed, directly next to you and easily holding his length to bump against your slacked and moaning mouth.

You readily accept your husband into your mouth. Instantly taking him as deeply as you can out of sheer arousal. Wanting to do the dirtiest things your brain can come up with solely because of how good everything feels right now. Jongseong loves it, especially with how greedy you seem as you furrow your brows and will yourself to take more into your mouth.

“Sunghoon,” Jongseong calls out, reaching over to tap his hand that’s putting his obvious strength to use against your thighs to get his attention. “Look.”

Sunghoon does, after sliding his tongue back up and flicking your clit several more times to get those satisfying shakes of your body in reaction. His eyes trail up as he finally takes a breath of fresh air, only now realizing that you’re both entirely naked.

“If you keep coming back,” Jongseong starts, moving his hand to caress your cheek before holding the back of your head in place. “this” he punctuates with a hard thrust into your mouth, gagging you. “is what you have to look forward to.”

Sunghoon watches as Jongseong holds your head there, continuously gagging, and then he glances down to your pussy and goddamn. You’re clenching around nothing each time you gag, and the moans you’re letting out along with your gags sends him over edge. His tongue is immediately back on you, satiating that clench with his tongue as best he can.

The sound of Jongseong’s ever expected fond reactions goes unnoticed by Sunghoon as he puts his entire fucking soul into eating you out.

Thankfully, you’re able to breathe shortly after, kind of. Save for the fact that when Sunghoon’s isn’t knocking the breath out of you, Jongseong is stealing it by blocking your airways with his length and moaning all the same.

The entire room sounds so erotic, and everything still feels like it’s on fire. Your sensitivity subsides as your focus falls to pleasing your husband, leading your hips to chase Sunghoon’s hungry tongue anywhere it goes.

It stays like this for a few minutes, all three of you seemingly lost in each other before you feel your husband lean over, allowing you to take care of his cock without his help and sliding his fingers straight to where Sunghoon’s tongue is.

There, he easily slides them in, and still, Sunghoon doesn’t stop. It doesn’t phase him one bit. His tongue continues, working around Jongseong’s fingers and sometimes even licking around them to taste the arousal that seeps from deep inside of you. By now though, he’s humping up, wanting more, more, more. Your hips chase his tongue and your husband’s fingers the same way his hips chase nothing.

Jongseong only likes him more by this point. Even the times they have been with curious men, typically they’re not licking your pussy and his fingers. Sunghoon is so peculiar about this, and arguably his lack of experience is what’s making this feel so fucking magical. His attention doesn’t appear to be divided between the both of you, nor does it even appear to be solely on you like he thinks it is.

He’s treating you both as if you’re one person, one soul, and appears to accept anything either of you offer as long as you feel good and Jongseong is satisfied with how things are going.

Never has their bedroom been this silent of words either, especially when someone else is involved. There’s always crude words, but at this point all three of you seem to understand that you’re experiencing rather than trying to put on a show. You’re not competing, you’re not rushing for the finish line, you’re just…fucking. Existing within pleasure together.

“He’s a natural.” Jongseong compliments, sliding his fingers up and out of you only to slide them into Sunghoon’s mouth. The man accepts them too, sucking your wet off of his fingers with a pornographic groan at the warmth and taste of them. “Wonder what else he can do?”

You smile when you pull off of Jongseong’s, now leaking, cock and look down at Sunghoon. He’s already looking up at you, lips glistening much like his eyes are as he plants more kisses up your body. Solely because Jongseong practically hides your entire pussy with the palm of his hand from him as a hint to move his hungry assault elsewhere.

He does, happily. He’s satisfied even as he kisses up your belly and feels like he doesn’t need to ask to plant those same glistening lips against one of your nipples and fondle it with his tongue just as beautifully as he did with your clit.

He leaves space for Jongseong’s hand when he moves up, trying to be careful to avoid his hard on brushing against anywhere where it’s not wanted, which doesn’t seem to be much of an issue because Jongseong pulls his hand back shortly anyway, pulling off of the bed and studying the two of you.

You hug Sunghoon’s head while he worships the chest he’s stared at from his window day after day. Jongseong can clearly see how shy Sunghoon is, but he still seems to be doing everything in a way that makes you both love it. At this point, it wouldn’t even matter what he does, he knows you’d go insane over it, and that’s enough for him to allow it.

He can’t help himself when he leans over you to kiss you, seemingly so in love with you, careful not to accidentally bump Sunghoon’s head from your tit and probably cause some sort of huff or pout out of him.

“Lay him back.” Jongseong whispers to you through his kiss, pinching your chin to keep your lips on his for a few moments longer before letting you go.

The way your eyes shine, and the way Sunghoon’s tongue seems to never tire, you’re almost sad to pull him off of you. But you do, nonetheless, guiding him to stand to his feet and finally running your hands up his torso to urge his shirt off of him.

You stare at his abdomen, touching and feeling each dip of it. His arms are just as nice and toned, and god damn is his cock huge. You could tell from the window, and you can tell here, even while it’s clothed.

“Off.” You say, tugging him forward by his jeans and sitting yourself up.

He laughs awkwardly at the movement, looking between the two of you and honestly, damn. You’re both so fucking beautiful right now. He’d be delighted to take these pants off, and he does.

Shortly after, you instruct him to lay back on the bed and he’s only getting more and more comfortable with the situation. Doing exactly as instructed, not even embarrassed by his angry and heavy cock twitching in near pain to be touched.

“God, look at him.” You groan, now moving yourself on the bed to lean on one elbow and trail your fingers up his abs.

His entire body twitches at the touch, and he winces just a little bit with a sexually frustrated huff.

“Should I fuck him?” You ask, looking up at Jongseong, who was actively already fisting his length shamelessly at all of the ideas he has in his head that you could to do Sunghoon, or of what Sunghoon could do to you.

“Do you want to?” Your husband retorts with an aroused moan following shortly after, looking over to Sunghoon and watching the way he straight up nods shamelessly and practically grabs you by the arm to pull you on top of him.

“So eager,” You laugh, throwing your leg over him and instantly seating yourself directly on his cock. Feeling how huge it is, how hard it is.

Sunghoon moans at that alone, hands shooting to your waist and squeezing so hard that you know it’ll leave a painful sensation later.

“Go on then, fuck him.” Jongseong says, amused with how badly this man wants it.

And you do, without much more of a warning. You lift yourself and expertly slide straight down on his pathetic cock. You watch Sunghoon as you do it, struggling to breathe through the feeling of your tight walls clenching around his length and attempting to adjust to his size.

Sunghoon runs his own fingers through his hair now, trying to keep himself grounded by the feeling he’s missed out on for so fucking long. He lets out a deep half-sobbed moan, cursing at the feeling and nearly tearing up at how fucking tight you are.

“Shit,” Sunghoon grits his teeth, holding your waist still as if to keep you from moving, then he’s wrapping you in a hug and pulling you straight down against his chest.

Jongseong skews his head, taking a step closer to see how well Sunghoon fits inside of you and damn. Your pussy is clenching every passing second trying to adjust, and his entire body is reacting to it. Naturally, Jongseong has no choice but to grip his cock harder at the scene, biting back his own desperate moan so that he can still appear to be collected about this.

As you lay in Sunghoon’s arms though, the harsh hold of him keeping you in place, you can’t help but sigh at the searing stretch inside of you. And he, on the other hand, is being driven crazy by the smell of your hair. Honestly, the scent alone is driving him wild enough that it’s a struggle to keep his own hips from writhing with the need to stretch your pussy out more.

“Keep him still while you make room for me.” Jongseong finally chokes out. “Don’t let him cum.”

You breathlessly nod, trying to press yourself up from Sunghoon’s heaving chest just to grip onto his shoulders and bounce against his desperate attempts to stop you. He gives in after the second bounce though, going from trying to hold you down on him to loosening up and almost helping you bounce.

“That’s it, that’s exactly what she wants–” Jongseong compliments, running his fingers up your back and making you shiver. “Right, babe?”

You try to answer, but you moan out instead with the way Sunghoon’s hands keep you bouncing at such a pace that your g-spot is being repeatedly fucked against. And when he moves his hands to your ass, he loses himself to the pleasure as his eyes darken even more, fucking up now, deeper into you when you slide down on him.

“So deep,” You nearly sob out, hands reaching out for Jongseong somewhere behind you, and he’s quick to be there for you.

“I know, baby.” He asks, leaning onto the bed to kiss against your face. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Sunghoon moans before you can, sinking his head further into the pillows and letting himself get lost in the feeling of you bouncing on him. Jongseong was right about this before, you do get wet. Fucking soaked.

“You can take more, baby.” Jongseong says to you now, seemingly ready to give you more than either of you know you can handle.

Still, you nod, knowing exactly what he’s wanting to do. You adjust the way you bounce, now leaning onto Sunghoon’s chest so that his cock slamming into you is on full display for Jongseong.

“Slow down for a second, Hoon–” Jongseong says, liking the nickname well enough to use it himself. “Let me show you what sharing feels like.”

And holy fuck, Sunghoon is not prepared for it. He’s shocked that you’re wanting it, with the way you pant out breathless, pained moans against his collar bone as Jongseong makes attempts to stretch you out more than you already are.

Sunghoon holds onto those little pants, feeling your hands grip against his body as your husband nudges the head of his cock inside, causing both of you to cry out with a desperate sound.

Inch by inch, Jongseong works himself in, holding his breath and soothing your back throughout the process, up until he’s managed to fit about as much as he can into you and thrusting forward just once to test the waters.

“Shiiit–” He moans through a laugh, pulling out and thrusting in again, harder. “So tight.”

The reaction is more than Jongseong could ever have wanted. Both of you, clinging to each other through the overwhelming sensation. Sunghoon, probably overly sensitive from the feeling of your pussy gripping him and Jongseong’s cock massaging the underside of it as he chases his own pleasure. Then there’s you, constantly clenching to adjust, letting out little pleased cries that only get prettier and prettier, especially when they’re mixed in with Sunghoons.

At this point, Jongseong can barely tell which one of you is moaning, but it’s all the same to him and he begins to do the work for all three of you. Loving the way he’s managed to make his wife and another man fall apart beneath him.

“God, you both love it.” He says, knowing for a fact that you’re both too gone by now to hear him. Which is good, because he can’t hold his own moans in anymore.

So, he doesn’t. He grips your hips to hold you in place and continues to thrust, feeling your pussy relax with each thrust until even Sunghoon is able to fuck up slightly. And for you, feeling both cocks sliding into you opposite of each other, you really can’t comprehend a single thing outside of pleasure right now.

You can hardly breathe, so talking isn’t entirely on your agenda, still though. You try.

“Fuck, fuck–” You breathe out, gripping even tighter onto Sunghoon now.

“So fucking wet,” Jongseong soothes, offering a harsher thrust now that he’s beginning to lose himself to the feeling too.

“So fucking, big–” You say, mostly into Sunghoon’s ear despite your husband having a good size as well. “Don’t stop. Fuck me open–” You moan to him, encouraging him to keep trying to fuck up.

Jongseong smirks at your hushed and out-of-breath words, you always get dirty when you’re super turned on. Plus, the way Sunghoon follows instructions is insanely sexy too.

In fact, he follows your instructions a little too well. Somehow, Sunghoon overpowers both your weight on him and Jongseong’s harsh thrusts. To the point that he actually has to stop moving his own hips because if he doesn’t, Sunghoon will get all three of you off within seconds if he keeps going at this pace.

“Yeah, fuck, yeah,” Jongseong moans in probably the most erotic voice you’ve ever heard come from him before. Because, never in your life alongside him have you heard him have to cut off his comments with a moan. “He likes it fucking rough.”

And he’s not lying. Part of you wonders if Sunghoon has ever been able to fuck this way, because even as you and your husband manage to find room to converse through this, Sunghoon is still gone and lost in his own world. Still holding onto you, and still fucking into you so hard that you’re very nearly releasing little yelps each time he bottoms out.

Jongseong, on the other hand, knows exactly how your body reacts when you’re getting close. Usually knowing before you do, and he really does his best to keep his composure through this. He does his damndest to hold off, amazed that Sunghoon lasted past the first instance of you sinking down on him.

Shaking hands reach between you and Sunghoon, and you’re quick to sit up and lean back against Jongseong instead to let him have access to your clit. Despite his cock slipping out of you slightly, he can still manage to fuck a few inches in at this angle, and honestly it’s a welcome relief because if he continued any further, he worries your clit would be left long neglected by his brain malfunctioning in a sudden orgasm.

You smile in a daze as you stare down at Sunghoon, his eyes droopy and hooded when he opens them, but for the most part remaining closed and focused on fucking you as good as he can. And paired with the sensation of Jongseong rubbing your clit, you’re rendered useless in announcing that you’re close.

Thankfully, your lovely, amazing, and doting husband knows you as well as you know yourself.

“Keep going,” He breathes, out of breath and reaching his other hand up to hold one of your tits in his hand, lips going to your neck. “She’s close.”

Sunghoon lets out a choked moan at the same time you let one out, and instantly Jongseong pulls out with a pleased and frustrated moan.

“There you go baby,” Jongseong coos at you, now focusing solely on rubbing your clit with one hand and fucking his fist with the other. ”Squeeze him.”

God, you do, coming undone wrapped around his relentless cock, pulsing and shaking as Jongseong makes no attempt to ease the orgasm out of you. His fingers only circle your clit harder, and Sunghoon only fucks up harder.

“Fuck, Sunghoon,” Jongseong calls out, watching the man in awe. “How are you holding out right now?”

Sunghoon blinks up, his eyes totally lost to arousal and he continues to fuck into you far past your orgasm ending, loving the slide of how much wetter you got through it. He feels like he’s fucking half a year’s worth of himself into you, which is fair. Because he definitely is.

“Look at him babe, tell him it’s okay.” Jongseong continues, wanting Sunghoon to get off so that he can stop holding off on his own. It’s entirely insane how much self-control this man has.

Not even Jongseong himself could withstand this without losing a bit of self control, and yet, god. He really is the perfect third. The perfect neighbor.

This is an indication that Jongseong is about to go full cuckold and work at himself as you take what you want from Sunghoon, and you really do try.

Your legs shake around him as you continue to try and ride him, leaning down to hover over his lips in a faux first kiss to tell him to rest his hips, and he does, sighing out a little sound of relief as you take back the control.

He’s never been so fucking turned on in his life, and in all honestly, not even he knows how he hasn’t gotten off yet. He’s needed it all day. He’s needed it all his fucking life, it seems.

Jongseong studies the way your tired legs work, the pace slowing down minute by minute before he steps in. His control now fully regained as his orgasm fades and he can continue to instruct and enjoy without a wall of pure sex invading his actions. He releases his cock now, stilling your hips and pulling you off of Sunghoon.

The sound alone is somehow filthier than any porn he’s ever heard. Sloppy and wet, paired with Sunghoon’s frustrated groan at the loss of warmth.

“Hoon, take the lead.” Jongseong says, helping you to lay back and rubbing your thighs to soothe them, only moving you from the position because he knows you’re going to be sore tomorrow.

Sunghoon, of course, jumps into action immediately. Lifting from his spot and situating himself between your legs with ease. Now being able to see you under him, rather than hovering above him, he feels like he has all the power in the world to treat you right.

“Anything you want,” He says, already adjusting himself with your pussy and pressing in. “Anything, just tell me.”

You’re entirely endeared by his words and can’t help it when you pull him down in a huff and connect your lips to his for the first time. He melts into it, fucking his hips into you at a slower pace now, deeper, more lazily.

He’s smelling you and feeling you entirely, every sensation in the world he could ever want is being satiated right now, and he’s not ashamed to whine through it. Pumping himself into you until it hits him, all because you fucking kissed him.

So hard does it hit him, each thrust milking him entirely of his cum and not trembling once through it. His cock has been sensitive all day, this new sensitivity is welcome to him as long as you continue to lick into his mouth and scratch against his back like this.

It’s a given that he was a goner the second he got on top, and when he finally empties the last, impossible amount of cum into you, his ears pop and begin to ring.

“You guys look so cute–” Jongseong coos, helping Sunghoon out of you on wobbly legs before he leans down to scoop some of the mess out of you. “Now, you lay back too,” he adds, still toying with the cum dripping from you.

He does, relieved and thankful for the rest after that exhausting experience. He’s out of breath when he flops himself down next to you, turning his head slightly to look at you and how content you seem to be. It makes him feel content too, even without your lips against his.

There, Jongseong scoops some of that cum out of you and slathers his fingers with it, shuffling forward onto the bed to place himself between your legs now. Then, his fingers make their way over to Sunghoon.

“Taste it.” He says, wondering if Sunghoon will fight the idea of doing it.

Shockingly, he doesn’t. He opens his mouth with ease and sucks Jongseong’s fingers into his mouth for the second time. You watch, watching the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the taste of himself mixed with you. You groan out, throat dry from the embarrassing amount of moaning before wiggling your hips.

“Patience, babe,” Jongseong says, not even glancing at you and keeping his eyes trained on the way Sunghoon eagerly licks his fingers clean before releasing his fingers and blinking over to you, and then up at him.

“You’re both going to fucking kill me.” Jongseong lets out, rolling his eyes before training them on you. “Gonna stuff this mess back into you, yeah?”

You nod obediently.

You’re so content, readily accepting your husband in his rightful place and basking in the familiar feeling of his length pressing inside of you. It’s a feeling you know, and a feeling you love despite having already been fucked open by both of them already.

At this point, it’s not even just arousal in the air. But like, a secret second thing that somehow feels more content than content.

Jongseong is in love with the way you look right now though, arguably so for Sunghoon too. With his fucked out face looking just as drowsy as yours does despite the sun setting when all of this started. It’s not as late into the night as it seems to feel, which is fine because time seems like it works differently at this moment.

“Kiss her,” Jongseong says, with a last gift to Sunghoon for fucking you so well. “Thank her.”

He does, because of course he does. He dips in so fast, cradling your face in the same delicate way he touched your thighs from before. Kissing you just as gently, all while Jongseong takes his time to slide into you with such a fulfilling pace that, honestly, if you will it hard enough, you could probably get off another three times if you wanted to.

But you don’t, putting that filthy side of you to rest as you allow your husband to take what he needs. His pace quickening much like Sunghoon’s kisses do, up until you’re bouncing up with each thrust of his hips, and Sunghoon is left chasing your lips. Up, down, up, down.

He chuckles into it, his teeth catching your bottom lip a few times before chasing your lips harder, all for Jongseong to admire from above.

And admire it, he does. Loving the way you kiss Sunghoon in a playful way compared to himself. There’s passion here, and it makes it all the more easy for him to work himself up to his own orgasm.

You’re not shocked at Jongseong’s silence through his own high. Pressing his hips so tightly against yours, trying to bury himself as deeply as he can go to release all of this tension inside of his body. You still feel as full as you did when they both were inside of you, but this is something entirely different. It’s Jongseong, and it still shows that he’s the one person on this Earth who knows you better than you know yourself.

He knows you love to feel his cock pulse inside of you, know you love when it dribbles down your thighs as you wobble to the bathroom, and now apparently, he knows you seem to love kissing Sunghoon through the entire experience. Clenching against his orgasm as if you were already willing to start over from the beginning.

And just like that, he pulls out and lays on the other side of you, stealing your lips from Sunghoon briefly and kissing you. Both out of appreciation and love.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The clean up was devastating. Poor fucking Sunghoon, never realizing that aftercare is like, a huge important factor to fucking that hard. Which only solidifies it to both you and your husband that he’s clearly never been given the sexual freedom he so needed.

The two of you exchange side eyes at the way Sunghoon expects to shower alone and take care of himself, despite walking straight into a wall on wobbly legs with sleepy, mostly closed eyes.

You help him to the shower, Jongseong allowing you to join him and clean him up as he sits just outside and waits to ultimately clean himself up this time. After all, Sunghoon was the one who fucked you senseless, the least he can do is learn how to clean up the mess and soothe your muscles.

Fortunately, he seems to be pleased to learn and eager to put his new knowledge to use. Standing there under the warm water with a blissed out little smile, hands gently caressing your sore pussy as if to soothe your sensitivity. Obviously, it doesn’t work that way but, you still give him credit for it.

By the time you’re done showering, Sunghoon is practically dead weight. Literally fucked himself to sleep, it seems, as Jongseong laughs out and nods to the guest room, which he already made up for him.

You help him to the room while Jongseong helps himself to shower, where puddles of water remain on the floor.

Apparently you and Sunghoon both share the trait of not using a towel to step on after a shower. Which is only more of a reason to like him.

Jongseong likes taking care of people.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When Sunghoon wakes up the next morning, sunlight blaring through closed blinds, his half asleep brain realizes very quickly where he is.

He’s embarrassed again, but the content feeling in his chest replaces the heavy one he had been holding about the entire situation. He had fun. He liked it. No, he loved it. So much so that for the first time in his life, he’s needed to pass the fuck out immediately after.

And it’s not long after he wakes up, lying there in thought, that he hears a soft knock at the door.

You’re poking your head in, blinking over at him and admiring his sleep hair. Which isn’t too different compared to his sex hair, and you smile.

“Good morning,” You say, stepping into the room and revealing Jongseong close behind you. “Wanna go again?”

Sunghoon stares at you, and then at Jongseong and his smirk. You’re both fucking insane.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

pls reblog my works ;o; if you do? i love u. if u dont? whyyyyy not?

#enhypen smut #park jongseong smut #sunghoon smut #jay smut

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decolonize-the-everything · 6 months

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I saw your post about the leopards eating faces and democrats and if you think the us is bad under biden have a good look through project 2025 and please fucking realize that queer people, those that can get pregnant, and people of color are going to be absolutely fucked if trump wins in November.

Sigh

If you ACTUALLY read it then you'd know Biden is ALREADY carrying out the goals outlined in project2025. You'd also know that his administration is even using the SAME exact language that's found in the Mandate for Leadership. Such as "protecting the freedom of navigation in the Suez Canal"

I literally have a post floating around somewhere where I said he was gonna escalate the genocide and smoke out all the rebel groups because guess what? Project2025 outlined that too. Literally listed them as targets that the administration should focus on.

Another part of it says they should continue to protect and support Israel's "right to defend itself" at any cost.

So yeah that thing you're afraid of? It's here. And it's here because you thought the fascist with a blue tie was less scary than a fascist than a red tie so you stopped paying attention when Blue Tie Man was around. And that blue Fascism that's allowing book bans and abortion bans and making trans people illegal is going to stay here and grow because you don't fucking care to address it unless the tie is red.

Maybe fucking read the thing you're trying to fearmonger me about because I guarantee I've read more of it than you.

And it's not that I find the realities in it less scary, it's that I'm not such a privileged shithead that I would prioritize my own comfort over lives being lost in a literal fucking genocide.

Yeah shit sucks for queer people and trans people and trust me, I know that, but we aren't being killed in broad fucking daylight and having people go into denial about it so maybe instead of barking up MY blog about how fucked up everything is you go and send the DNC and your representatives some emails and tell them to give Democrats a candidate that doesnt commit genocide?

How about instead of yelling at me to lower my standards cuz things MIGHT get scarier for you if Blue Tie Man doesn't beat trump (and he won't) you ACCEPT that reality and DO SOMETHING USEFUL about it. How about you and your party just BE BETTER????

There's seven months before the elections and Biden is tanking every poll and Democrats are voting uncommited in swing states and what's Biden doing? Doubling down on every single policy that he's losing voters over (like supporting Israel). If he loses that's not my fault or anyone else's.

Maybe stop asking people to vote for a warmongering white supremacist.

"think of the queers and pregnant people and PoC"

I Am.

They live in Palestine and Sudan and the DRC.

Or did you mean I should prioritize different queers and pregnant people and PoC?

Don't be shy. Did you mean I should prioritize you?

Cuz yeah. Fuck that.

(white) USamerican citizens prioritizing ourselves over everyone else is exactly how the world got so fucked up.

I'm NOT voting for Biden under any fucking circumstances, don't waste my time with another bullshit uninformed scare mongering ask like this again just cuz YOU lack the solidarity to care about any community but your own.

The fuck?

Do you think the queer community only counts Americans? What an ignorant thing to say. "Think of minority communites but only from this specific part of the world"

You wouldn't know community if it hit you in the fucking face.

#asked #answered #project2025 #queer #lgbt #poc #reproductive rights #bodily autonomy #the fact you separated PoC from queer and pregnant people is Weird As Fuck also btw like just say youre a white supremacist ffs #biden #2024 #vote

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confused-wanderer · 11 months

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No because I can’t be the only one who thinks that the other batkids mess with Damian’s non-existent knowledge of jokes and references. Each of the batkids already has their own niche of bad jokes they love saying. And Damian is just adding fuel to the fire by being an unsuspecting victim:

Dick: Knock knock

Damian *who’s seen Superman and Jon do this all the time* : .. who’s there?

Dick: Nobody

Damian: …nobody.. who?

Dick:

Damian: ?

Dick *keeping a poker face*

Damian: Grayson.. nobody who?

Dick *shaking with silent laughter before walking out of the room*

Damian: .. Grayson has lost what little brain cells he had left. Shame, it was the most anyone had in the family.

Alfred: Master Damian.. it is you who didn’t understand.

Damian: .. what?

Alfred *raises an eyebrow*

Damian:

Damian *realisation dawns*

Damian *marching out of the room while unsheathing his katana*

Alfred: Keep away from the carpet Master Damian.

Jason: You know.. you always see flamingoes sleep with one leg lifted off the ground..why do you think that is?

Damian: .. you pose a good question for once Todd. I suppose it could be a form of protecting body heat.. what is the reason for this?

Jason *wheezing*: It’s ‘cause if they had both legs up they would’ve fallen over.

*doubles over laughing at his own joke*

Damian:

Jason *now fallen over, rolling on the ground*

Damian: This is why Father doesn’t love you.

It has also led to an unintended common ground between him and Tim, who are both just so done with the rest of the family. Stephanie is just waiting for the day Damian realises that Tim references vines almost everyday. She’s sure Tim’s going to lose a kidney when that happens.

Bonus points if Tim already does, but Damian just looks at him weird every time and just chalks it upto another “Tim thing” like:

Tim: .. it is Wednesday my dudes.. *screams*

Damian: … Drake it’s Friday. The only thing you succeed at is disappointing me.

Tim: Do it for the vine.

*jumps into blazing fire with a bomb hidden somewhere in the building about to collapse without informing anyone or taking proper equipment to find said bomb*

Damian: Father told me I must not hate you, but if you were on fire, and I had a glass of water.. I would drink it.

And

Tim *driving while in a high-speed chase with a villain about to summon the end of the world while the car is on fire*: Road work ahead? Uh yeah, I sure hope it does

Damian *over the comms* : Father I fear Drake has more brain damage than he usually does. I have genuine concern for my safety. If I kill him, you should know it’s in self-defence.

————-////

Edit: The first joke is a knock knock joke but when Dick says nobody it means nobody is at the door, so no matter how much you say “nobody who?” you won’t get a reply because there’s no one at the door. Hope this clears it up😅

#batman #dick grayson #jason todd #nightwing #red hood #tim drake #batfam #bruce wayne #damian wayne #headcanons #robin!damian wayne #Damian al-ghul #red robin #Stephanie brown #spoiler

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microclown · 9 months

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I was rewatching s1e3 and something finally clicked for me..

Please forgive me if this seems obvious to you. It helps me to type out my thoughts, but I'm sure I'm just an idiot and no one else needs this explained to them, lol. That said - I was always slightly confused by the emotional weight of the holy water arc during the flashback sequence. Particularly I was confused by how angry Crowley got when Aziraphale referred to their relationship as fraternizing in the 1862 fight. I mean, "to associate or form a friendship with someone, especially when one is not supposed to" is exactly what they are doing, right? So why the 80 year breakup?

Crowley says he wants the holy water for if "it" all goes pear shaped. The phrasing is necessarily vague, and could mean lots of things. Since I know what he eventually uses it for, I was thinking about it in the context of Armageddon, or maybe more generally and vaguely about Crowley not always choosing to go along with Hell, and associating with Aziraphale. But there was not much reason for Crowley to already be thinking about Armageddon back then.

As we know from the full diary entry Neil posted, the timeline of the Edinburgh entry, and the cut bookshop opening scene, it seems like Crowley and Aziraphale were spending A LOT of time together by the 1800's. When Crowley is pulled back down to Hell in 1827, he learns that Hell is paying more attention to him than he'd previously thought. Crowley realizes at this point that spending so much time with Aziraphale is actively putting him in real danger. He recognizes that, and instead of breaking things off, or seeing Aziraphale less, he doubles down. If this relationship is dangerous, then he wants the tools to fight for it.

That's what I think I didn't get about the holy water request. It's not just general insurance, it's specifically insurance for if Hell finds out about him and Aziraphale. It's also a super vulnerable request because in making it, Crowley is openly acknowledging how important their relationship is to him. Aziraphale casually brings up the arrangement at the beginning of the conversation, and that's part of it, right? Because the whole basis of their relationship is the arrangement. It continues to be the pretense under which they meet, despite the relationship clearly having developed beyond that. And the arrangement, as Crowley proposed it in 537, is born out of convenience, and the assumption that Heaven and Hell would never notice anyway.

Crowley's request for insurance breaks that facade. He's acknowledging that it's not convenient, or safe, but he wants to do it anyway, despite the risk.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, is not ready for the screen to be taken away so abruptly. To make it worse, he assumes Crowley wants the holy water as an escape, rather than a weapon. Suddenly he is confronted with both the danger their association poses, and the idea that Crowley might choose to take his own life. He can't imagine the guilt of being directly responsible for the latter.

I also think the strength of his own emotional response to the thought of losing Crowley catches Aziraphale off guard. He hasn't admitted to himself how much he actually cares, and it scares him. Worrying about Heaven is more comfortable and familiar, so he falls back on that and switches to "If they knew I'd been... fraternizing!"

But bringing up the threat of Heaven reads to Crowley as Aziraphale saying "You may be willing to put yourself at risk for the sake of our relationship, but I am not." The word choice of "fraternizing" comes off as a dismissive and demeaning way to describe a relationship that Crowley just admitted he would risk his life for.

It's an unintentionally deep cut when Crowley is already at his most vulnerable, and so he lashes out. As far as we've seen, this is possibly the first time Crowley has truly lashed out at Aziraphale. So yeah, 80 year breakup makes sense!

And what makes this so much worse is what happens next. Crowley reaches out again in 1941 with a dramatic gesture (rescuing Aziraphale from the Nazis, saving his books). It's clear they've missed each other. They don't discuss the fight, but it's there subtextually. Aziraphale, tentatively and thrillingly, refers to them as friends, for the first time ever. He tells Crowley that he trusts him.

And then, that very same night their worst fears are confirmed. Just when they've finally reconciled a fight over the dangers of their relationship, and just when Aziraphale has finally admitted that it is not a relationship of convenience, but genuine friendship, they are exposed. Crowley is going to face punishment from Hell, explicitly for being Aziraphale's "trusted confident", and he doesn't have insurance. If Aziraphale's trick hadn't succeeded, Crowley would have had no way to protect himself.

idk it just makes me feel things ok

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow

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starseungs · 2 months

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the subtle art of cliche confessions. ksm.

kim seungmin x gn!reader — as aware as you were that life wasn’t like the fictional stories of romance that you enjoyed, a part of you still relished the thought of experiencing it for yourself.

GENRE/S — fluff, humor kinda, maybe fluffy angst but not really, battle of the bands au, lead singer!seungmin, college au, kinda semi-established relationship • 2.5k words

WARNING/S — profanity for humor, some self-deprecation as a result of nervousness but its not that bad, romance is complicated!

( ✒️ ) a gift for @starlostseungmin for successfully completing her big exam 🙇‍♀️🤍 congratulations lovie, you deserve a fluffy seungmin fic !! the ending may be trash im sorry its 1am and i have class in a few hrs

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

“Jisung, I think I’m about to pass out.”

The person mentioned comically froze on the spot, his right hand halting from its previous task of double-checking his electric guitar’s condition. Jisung lifted his head up menacingly to look at the offender—who currently looked like he was seconds away from losing all strength in his legs. Despite the concerning comment, life backstage did not stop for anyone. Crew members were still seen running around like headless chickens, desperately trying to keep the show running smoothly even though they, themselves, were already functioning on greater levels of adrenaline than the performers.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Jisung warns lowly. “Kim Seungmin, you are not about to leave us without a lead singer right now!”

Unfortunately, Seungmin was not kidding. At all.

The loud cheers of the crowd from beyond the stage were deafening. It tells him that the band currently performing before them is doing a great job of keeping the audience entertained. Normally, that would’ve set him on fire to do better; bits of his competitive nature steeling his resolve to outdo the competition. And yet, something seemed to be different in today’s specific battle.

He couldn’t care less about the crowd—no, his mind was only revolving around one thought. Or one person, to be specific.

This makes him blanch once again. “I genuinely feel like throwing up.”

Chan snickers from his position near the dividers set up to create a makeshift waiting room for the performers. “Are you that nervous?” He asked lightheartedly. “Don’t stress about it too much, Min. We all know Y/N is going to say yes.”

Seungmin wanted to believe him. He really did. If anyone were to be asked about his natural demeanor, he was one hundred percent positive that the word ‘rational’ would come up at least once. He knew that the chances of the drummer’s words were the most probable—after all, he did his best efforts to capture your heart over the past year. And yes, Seungmin did also know that you had romantic feelings for him. That was why he was in this situation in the first place.

“If I were them, I would!” Hyunjin chirps, happily tapping on his bass guitar. “Imagine getting asked out by the lead singer of a band in the middle of their set? Anyone would be over the moon.” Seungmin merely scoffs in response.

“Of course you would, Mr. Hopeless Romantic.”

The bassist chokes out an offended noise. “Says the one doing a public confession,” he huffs. “Glad to know you learned a thing or two from those romance movies I pitch in on movie nights.”

“Yeah, well this isn’t fiction.” Seungmin deflates on his seat. Any more, and his band would’ve witnessed a person merging with a plastic chair. Wouldn’t that be a great memory to live with? “This is so cliche. What if they think it’s cringy?”

Jeongin, the keyboardist, shoots him a look full of judgment. “Why are you only second guessing this now?”

“To be fair, you both are already cringy.” Jisung stands up from his seat to stretch, only to receive a glare from the band’s lead singer. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just saying. It’s a miracle how long you two went on without an actual label. Everyone knows you two have been practically dating since months ago.”

And to that, Seungmin has no retort. What Jisung said had its truths—even he, himself, didn’t know why it took him so long to ask you to be officially his. It definitely wasn’t a commitment issue; he hasn’t even entertained anyone else intimately ever since he met you. There were even nights where he mentally beat himself up for being a coward about this whole thing, only for him to end the torment by convincing himself it was him going through the courting stage with you.

Not that he even asked, but that was what he was doing. Right?

It’s not his fault you always rendered him speechless. Not too much, of course. He wasn’t that starstruck that he’d make an absolute fool of himself. It was just that you made him really nervous and awfully conscious of himself. The way you talked was like music to his ears, and he swears he could listen to you all day. He finds himself wondering if his own voice ruins this fantasy of his.

You had to have noticed his advances as well. There was just no way that you didn't, with how smart you were. He just didn’t know whether to be grateful or frustrated with the fact that you never said a word about it. What if you were actually uncomfortable with the whole thing and were just too nice to tell him. Oh, he should’ve asked. This is terrible. A massive mistake on his part. An angel like you shouldn’t be forced to be with someone like him.

“What if I’m getting ahead of myself and they don’t actually like me like that?”

Jeongin’s jaw drops. “You have got to be kidding me.” He was going to tease Seungmin further, but something about the look on his friend’s face screamed anxiety, so Jeongin was quick to force his mouth closed. “Y/N does. Have you seen the way they act when they’re with you? Heart eyes, I swear.”

Okay, there’s that too. Seungmin wasn’t blind, nor was he dense. If he didn’t think you were interested in him like this, then he wouldn’t have actively pursued you time and time again. He was confident, not someone who didn’t know their boundaries. And fortunately, you seemed to have wordlessly affirmed that he could get close to you over the months you’ve been talking. He was sure that if you had even expressed the slightest bit of disapproval of his advances, he would have pulled away immediately. As well as reassess the situation right afterwards.

Seungmin sighs. “I just want to do this right.”

“And you will,” Chan says. The drummer gives him a firm pat on the back. “Trust in yourself. We’ll also have your back. Go out there and perform like you always do, just that you have your little plan before the bridge comes in.”

All Seungmin got from that was how you were in the crowd. Right, you were in that crowd. The very same crowd he didn’t give a single fuck about at this moment. You were the only audience he needed, and it both comforted and terrified him to remember that he left you to sit in the very front row earlier before the program started. Just where did all his courage go? The bastard who planned a public confession on their campus festival’s Battle of the Bands competition should be the one present to go through all this.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been this nervous to perform ever.”

Hyunjin hums. “Then that means you really like Y/N!”

“Exactly. We didn’t agree to make a whole new original song for this competition just for nothing,” Jisung adds. “Well, I guess it’s also good publicity for when we actually do this band thing for real. Show the public our sound, you know?”

Seungmin finally begins to breathe easily again. He briefly stares at Chan fiddling with his drumsticks, twirling them around with his fingers to soothe his own nerves about their upcoming performance. After all, this wasn’t just a performance that Seungmin was doing alone. The competition also meant a lot to his other members in their own different ways, yet they still gave their full support to him when he told them about his plan.

He had great friends.

“Stray Kids?” A slightly hoarse voice called out. Seungmin knew the figure as Changbin, someone from the student government. The guy was normally a lot more energetic than this, but he guesses the fatigue must be getting to him from being one of the organizers for this particular event. “You guys are up in a few seconds.”

Well, this is it. Seungmin stands up to get ready, clearing his throat to calm himself. There’s nowhere to run now.

The crowd’s enthusiastic roars never seemed to stop after the previous band’s set ended, and it was beginning to tick you off. Granted, you should have been happy that Seungmin’s band was going to be greeted by a happy crowd, but that also meant that they were subject to pleasing an audience whose hearts were clearly already captured by the performers right before them. And you would be nothing if you weren’t competitive. Biased or not, you would die on the hill believing that Seungmin’s band is better than the others.

They had a national treasure of a voice for their lead vocals, so how could they not be the best?

An amused snort came from your left side. You didn’t have to think too hard to figure out that it came from your friend, Felix. He was probably finding humor in the way your face didn’t spare a single effort to even plaster an indifferent expression. What can you say? You were loyal.

“Alright! I see that all of you enjoyed that wonderful performance from Xdinary Heroes!” The program’s host, Lee Minho, came back out to hype the crowd. It was then that your attention snapped back up to the big stage, your eyes watching like a hawk as Seungmin and his friends settled into the equipment. A bubbling giggle found its way out of your mouth at how Seungmin looked so focused on adjusting the height of his mic stand. “A very unique band name, if I do say so myself. But it does look like the new trend, as all of you here might also find interest in our next band’s name.”

“Seriously,” Felix starts, his tone teasing. “You are so down bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Be quiet. It’s starting.”

“Yeah, sure.” Felix laughs at your reaction. “We wouldn’t want to interrupt your longtime dream of being confessed to by a singer in the middle of a set now, would we?” Your face burned warmly at the accusation.

It was such a cliche thing to happen. As aware as you were that life wasn’t like the fictional stories of romance that you enjoyed, a part of you still relished the thought of experiencing it for yourself. There was a reason why these kinds of events were heavily romanticized in the media—they held their own charm. It just so happened that you agreed to the notion that getting a proclamation of love from a singer on stage was one of the more appealing choices.

Too bad those don’t go too well in real life.

“But it’s—”

“It’s cliche. Yes, you’ve already told me countless times that it’s not as good in real life. But we all have our fantasies, Y/N. No judgement.” Felix shrugs. “Good for you, though. You are one determined person to bag an actual singer. In a band, no less.”

“You are so—”

“—over. Give it up for Stray Kids!” Lee Minho’s booming voice cut you off again, letting you know that the performance was about to begin.

It started off like normal, with Chan using his drumsticks as a countdown before the instrumental started. Except this time, the song was surprisingly unfamiliar to you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. This wasn’t the piece they practiced when you came over to watch a week ago. You didn’t recognize the song in its entirety either, though it was already proving to be a song that fit right with your tastes. Seungmin’s voice echoing through the space was also adding so much to the experience.

You let the pride you felt at how well he was doing bloom in your chest. It was great to see him shine after going through the rough process of preparation with him. You watched him passionately go through the song smoothly without any mistakes. From the day you first met him until this moment, you’ve witnessed how determined he was to achieve his goals in life. It was then that you knew you’d always be proud of Seungmin, no matter what. You were already the happiest you’ve ever been just by being by his side.

“Did they change their set?” You asked no one in particular.

Felix bops his head to the beat, clearly pleased with the song. “Don’t know the song, but it’s great!”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him. Though the sudden change in song choice admittedly peaked your curiosity more than it should have. Your eyes found their way back on stage, as if telling you to simply enjoy the performance now and ask later. But it looks like fate had other plans for you, as your eyes immediately locked with a certain lead singer’s.

He left no argument as to who he was looking at. It was clearly you, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched at the way his gaze alone held the answer to the question that lingered in your head. There were sparks of electricity being mimicked throughout your body, sending you into a mild shock. Like a scene from a movie, everything else in the world just seemed to go on mute.

All except his voice.

“Before we proceed to the bridge, I’d like to share something about this song. Would that be alright?” Seungmin spoke to the crowd, despite his attention still obviously on you. You could vaguely hear them answering back to him in interest, positively telling him to go on. It was difficult to miss the way his smile grew at this. Seungmin looked so stunning when he smiled. You always felt like falling in love all over again whenever he did.

The band continued with the instrumental, albeit toning it down as their lead singer continued on. “So this song is actually an original from us.” Oh, that makes so much more sense. “And it was written as my confession to the person I like.”

Wait.

In the fuzz of your brain, you could barely make out Felix jumping up and down in excitement while looking at the scene unfolding before his eyes.

“I’ve been contemplating this for a while, wondering when I’d ever deem it the perfect moment for me to ask the important question,” Seungmin adds. “But I’ve realized that I was just dragging things out too much for my liking. So, to the one who my heart yearns for even through the nerves I’m feeling right now—” You felt overwhelmed at the moment, but you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off the way Seungmin looked at you with such fondness and admiration.

“—Y/N, will you give me the honor to be yours?”

And when your voice sings out the answer, the instrumental starts picking up again as Seungmin finishes the song with newfound fervor. You chuckle your happy tears away, with your friend playfully punching your arm.

“Now, what did I say?”

Maybe cliches weren’t so bad in real life after all.

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng @l3visbby

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patscorner · 4 months

Note

could u write kate martin x reader where they’re huge basketball rivals who end up falling in love?? maybe it starts out as like a secret relationship and then the media finds out and goes crazy abt it!!

also i love love love ur writing sm

Absolutely! Love you!

Rivals

Summary: The Gophers and Iowa have a generational rivalry with each other, tensions dating back years. What happens when one of Iowa's top players injures you?

wc: 3,248

Contains: slightly suggestive, mentions of blood, insta posts at the bottom, not proofread well, hella long

______________________________

The Minnesota Gophers vs. the Iowa Hawkeyes was one of the oldest rivalries in women’s college basketball history. Whether it’s overly aggressive plays, double technicals every couple minutes, and shoves being exchanged. It’s tradition at this point to have one or two chippy moments at one of these games.

So it’s no surprise when tonight is no different. It’s tied, 83-83 in the third quarter with two minutes and thirty-six seconds left. The air is so filled with tension, it was like a heavy cloud of negativity loomed over both teams. Patience was thin on both benches, and everyone, even the people watching from home could feel it.

You’d been guarding Kate all night, and to say it was a challenge would be an understatement. She was agile and quick on her feet, and in some cases, she just managed to slip through your defensive skills. But, you were able to keep up with her, following and predicting her moves closely. She got a couple shots on you, but you didn’t let that stir your determination.

You were on your A game offensively tonight, too. Whether it was weaving through players with ease, calling good screens, or taking risky threes, you were doing it all.

It was paying off, too. Until the beginning of the fourth quarter. The game had just resumed, you guarding Kate once more. She’d been more physical, which you weren’t expecting, but you adapted, quickly matching her energy.

You had gotten the offensive rebound, running back to the Iowa basket, Kate hot on your tail. You get into position to make a layup, but Kate is right there to block your shot. She smacks the ball, but her momentum sends her body into yours, sending you flying to the ground.

You crash into the base of the basketball hoop, back hitting the floor first, followed by your head smacking into the stanchion. You squeal loudly, but the crowd's deafening cheers drowned out any noises you could’ve made. You’d made the layup, but that was the least of your concerns.

You’re grabbing your head, rolling over on your side, trying to find a position that relieves some of the pounding that has started in your head. Kate immediately goes to check on you, but that doesn’t last long when your teammates push her out of the way to get to you. One of your teammates starts yelling at Kate, who yells back, and the referee's whistle pierces through the air, signaling technicals for both players.

You’re still curled up under the basketball hoop, holding the back of your head, when you feel a warm liquid. You pull your hand away, and your eyes widen as you stare at your crimson cover palm.

Everyone who knows you, knows you hate blood. The red liquid sends a wave of nausea to your already banged up head, and you close your eyes to avoid the tears falling, and to relieve some of the tension that the lights were causing. The crowd silences as the camera shows you looking at your hand in horror.

Your breathing picks up as you continue to look at your hand. Tears fall from your eyes as you start to hyperventilate, unaware that eventually the lack of oxygen would cause you to lose consciousness.

You're only out for about 30 seconds, but that was more than enough time for you to be surrounded. You wake up to the athletic training staff, your teammates, and the coaching staff around you. You're running on autopilot, so the first thing you try to do is sit up, which doesn’t end too well for you. You attempt to lift your head off the ground, but a sharp pain shoots down your back, causing you to gasp loudly.

“Shh-stay still, honey.” one staff member assures you. You groan in response, feeling multiple hands on you at once. You don’t say anything as you try to roll over on your stomach and attempt to relieve the pain in your back. You have a pounding headache and have no idea what’s going on or what happened.

“You gotta stop moving. The ambulance is on the way.” You freeze at these words.

Ambulance?

You have no idea what happened but all you know is that you have a basketball game to play. "W-we gotta play.” You croak out, looking at your teammates, tears brimming your eyes. You watch through blurry eyes as they shake their heads.

“No, kid, I think you're done for the night."

"No, no, n-no we gotta play- we're so close." You whimper out shakily. A couple of your teammates turn their heads, your statement making an already emotional moment even more heart-wrecking.

You feel someone grab your hand and rub it soothingly, attempting to distract you from the increasing pain in your spine. The Iowa bench was kneeling out of respect, because rivals or not, they weren't fucking monsters.

You sigh, accepting that you were done for the night and probably a while after. “What happened?” You whispered to no one in particular. You felt someone adjust the towels that you didn’t realize were under your head. The once white towels were colored now, and you felt sympathy for whoever had to clean them after.

“You fell kid, but you’re gonna be okay.” one of your teammates says. You hum in response.

All you could do is pray that she was right.

The crowd gave you a standing ovation as you were put on the stretcher and wheeled into the back of the ambulance. Despite their attempts to keep you awake, the loss of blood made it hard for you to keep your eyes open.

On the way to the hospital, they check your memory, which is pretty good, all except the moments leading up to the incident. All you remember is the girl that ran into you. When they get you to the hospital, they run their tests and find out that you had a pretty bad concussion, along with a crack in your spine. It’s safe to say you were done for the season.

Eventually, you were released, immediately starting physical therapy and, put in crutches and given a body wrap. You finally check your phone, and you see thousands of overwhelming messages from friends, family, and teammates. You respond to a couple of them, informing them that you were okay before going to instagram. Normally, you’d stay off of social media, but you needed something to distract yourself.

You’ve got hundreds of notifications on there, too, but one stands out the most.

A message from @katemartin

Just wanted to sincerely apologize for knocking you down the other night, I hope you know it wasn’t intentional. I don’t know if you’ll even read this, but you’re in my thoughts and prayers. Opponents or not, you’re a good player, and it’s devastating to see you injured. Get well soon.

Your heart swells at the message, as tears start to brim your eyes. You don’t know what to say, because this has never happened to you before. Usually, when someone gets injured, they get a pat on the back, and that’s it. But she went out of her way to message you.

You heart her message before typing a message back to her.

Thank you for the prayers, I know it wasn’t intentional, I watched the playback. I appreciate the message.

After you click send, you decide to leave it and begin scrolling through your feed. Nothing interesting comes up until you see Kate doing a post-game press conference. She’s asked her thoughts on the collision between you two.

“It was a basketball play. I had no intention of slamming into her like that. She’s an amazing player, like I seriously look up to her. The way she carries herself and the way she plays, that’s an example I think a lot of people should learn from.” she takes a deep, shaky breath, clearly trying to keep her composure. It breaks your heart to see her this shaken up about you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for being a part of the reason she’s not playing. Everyone deserves to do the things they love, and it’s not fair that I took that from her. Our teams may be hella competitive rivals, but despite that, this is a sisterhood. We aren't friends, but never would I ever wanna hurt her like that. It was an accident.” Kate’s voice cracks at the end, and her teammate rubs her back as she looks down.

“It was an honor to play with her, and I wish her the best.” she finishes, before the clip ends.

You’re in tears by the end of it, and you just want to give her a giant hug, tell her that you forgive her, and that you’ll be back on the court in no time. But instead, you stick with responding to her message she had just sent you.

How are you doing?

It’s been 4 months since your injury, and you’ve been talking to Kate non-stop. You and her had been texting back and forth, calling, and falling asleep on facetime. A lot of the time was talking about nothing in particular, with a couple updates as to where you are in your recovery.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart tighten when you talk to her. It’s like a breath of fresh air. Even though you were barely around her, you felt like you were missing something whenever you two weren’t having a conversation. You knew you were falling and falling hard. Little did you know, Kate was falling just the same.

Kate couldn't sleep well to begin with, but now she definitely couldn't sleep without talking to you. She couldn't go a minute without thinking about what you were doing, what you were wearing, what you were thinking. It got so bad that her teammates were practically begging her to ask this mystery girl out. Her daydreams were distracting her from her practices, the way she played in games, and her schoolwork.

Finally, (after Caitlin went on a ten minute rant about how painfully in love she was), Kate found the confidence to ask you out on a phone call. She was nervous and stuttering over her words, her face painted a beautiful pink.

"Maybe we could hang out sometime, like by ourselves. Like we could go to like the movies-or maybe out to eat somewhere. Or-or not, y'know we could hang out with other people, like our teammates, like not together because I don't think they like each other very much, but we could like not tell them, or we could tell them b-"

You cut off her rambling with a laugh, finding her anxiousness adorable. "Kate 'Money' Martin are you asking me out?" You ask, raising your eyebrows teasingly.

You watch as her face reddens even more, her teeth capturing her bottom as she playfully rolls her eyes at your mocking tone. "Y'know what, never mind. I take it back." She smiles at you.

"Oh, no, no, you got me locked in now." You say smiling softly back at her.

"Is that a yes…?" Kate asked in a joking manner, but you could sense a serious undertone to it.

You bite your lip lightly, staring at the blonde on your phone screen.

"Whatcha got in mind?"

Kate made the six hour drive to Minnesota that Saturday after booking a hotel room not far from campus. As much as you would've liked her to stay with you, you knew your dorm mates wouldn't approve of having her in your shared space. They knew you were talking to someone, but you were very cautious about when you talked to Kate, often doing it fairly late into the night when they were asleep or not home. You thought you were doing a good job, as they never brought up anything about it.

Either way, to not draw attention, you both decided it'd be best if you went super late at night, knowing that the second the public finds out Kate was in Minnesota, rumors would fly, and the media would go crazy. So, you came up with a shifty excuse to be out of the house at three a.m. on a random Saturday morning. You had no idea what Kate had set up, you just knew that you were meeting her at a random park near campus.

Turns out Kate had the date very planned out, from how long it would take to get from point A to point B, to where'd you'd be sitting. She took you to the beach, and even though it was dark, the sounds of the water crashing onto shore was enough for you.

Then she paid, against your will, for sushi. You went into the restaurant and you both sat in the car and ate your meal. Conversations flow smoothly all night, without a single moment of uncomfortable silence. The evening was filled with laughter and lighthearted banter, the both of you losing track of time until the sun started to bleed into the night sky.

You both were tired, tangled in the bed of Kate's truck, basking in each other's company. You were so comfortable, and you never wanted this moment to end. Kate was different from anybody else you'd ever met before. Even though this was the first time you'd even hung out with her, you wanted nothing more than to hold her forever. And to make her yours.

"What're you thinkin' about?" She asked, breaking the silence and pulling you from your thoughts. You're laying on her chest, her arms wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close.

You look up at her and find her gaze already in you. "The sun's coming up." You whispered, licking your lips. Her eyes trail down to them before finding their way back to your eyes. The way she looks at you almost makes you fold right then and there.

"Hmm." Kate responded as her eyes made their way back down to your lips and stayed there. After a moment, you brought your hand up to her cheek to direct her eyes back to yours. You smile as her face turns a bright shade of red.

"You're so pretty." She whispers as she seemingly examines your face. Now it's your turn to blush.

It almost makes you angry, the urge to kiss her lips. You want nothing more than to pour all your words into one kiss.

Fuck it.

You push your lips to hers, passionately expressing your feelings for her wordlessly. It takes her a second to process what's going on, but as soon as she does, she's melting under your touch. She's like putty in the palm of your hand at this point.

You adjust your body, lifting yourself so that the both of you are facing each other. You wrap your arm around her waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. Your moment catches Kate off guard, causing her to moan lightly. You smile before pulling away.

Pants fill the air as you both attempt to catch your breath, letting the tension linger in the air. "Holy shit." Kate lets out a breathy laugh.

You chuckle with her, rubbing her waist absent-mindedly.

She rolls over back on her back, staring at the sky, you mimic her actions, sighing deeply. You can sense that the end of your date is near as the sun rises.

"I have to go." Kate whispers. You nod, reaching down and intertwining your fingers. You were right.

Over the next five months, you and Kate took turns seeing each other in the same way, at night, mostly ending up with you two touching each other (in more than one way). It was starting to get exhausting to hide it from your teammates, so eventually, Kate let it slip, and they weren't surprised. They already had their suspicions since the injury.

You weren't too pleased when she told you she'd revealed your secrets, but you were relieved that they didn't hate you. It gave you enough confidence to comfortably tell your team, who, like the Iowa team, wasn't surprised or upset at the idea of you and Kate being together.

It lifted a huge weight off your guys' chest, feeling better about leaving at two or three in the morning. The longer your relationship went on, the more comfortable you both got.

This was both good and bad, as you fell more in love with each other every day. But it also came with the desire to see each other more, which led to you both growing impatient and making sloppy mistakes. It started with you accidentally posting a picture of you holding Kate's hand on your public story instead of your close friends, like you had intended. Even though you couldn't see her face, you knew some people would be able to figure who it was, plus, at that point, it was an early relationship, and neither of you were ready for that kind of attention. Luckily, you deleted it before anyone could see it, but it was too close of a call for your liking.

Another slip-up happened a month later, where you posted a picture in Kate's hoodie, but you were able to pretend that you both happened to have the same hoodie.

The last straw, though, was Kate being recognized by a fan while pumping gas. You ducked down in the trunk as you watched the fan approach her and ask for an autograph and picture, which she agreed to.

The fan had a short conversation with her, which you later found out they had asked about why Kate was in Minnesota. The best Kate could come up with was that she was 'visiting a friend', which you teased her about her lack of an answer.

The fan posted about Kate being in Minnesota and why, and it shocked the internet. Some fans had done a deep dive and found dots that connected you to Kate, such as the hoodie picture. At this point, you both were tired of hiding, tired of not being able to go out during the daylight or support each other during games.

So you both decided it was time to let the people know.

Yourusername

liked by katemartin and 294,210 others

yourusername: Find your person. They make life worth living

user| oh??

user| mystery woman?

user| I knew it

-> user| I feel like we all know who this is at this point

katemartin

liked by yourusername and 968,148 others

katemartin: You're my end and my beginning, even when I lose, I'm winning

user| no wait a minute

user| pov: the dots are connecting

user| my fav enemies to lovers story

caitlinclark22| took you long enough 🙄

-> yourusername| something you'd like to share with the class Martin??

-> katemartin| @caitlinclark22 I hate you.

->katemartin| @yourusername … no…

-> caitlinclark22| @katemartin you should be thanking me 🤗(pay up)

-> user| Caitlin in the comments has me cackling

user| Caitlin instigated is something I didn't know I needed

-> caitlinclark22| I did not instigate… just gave a gentle shove

-> katemartin| @caitlinclark22 I will gently shove you off a cliff 😍😄

->caitlinclark22| awww ur so cute😗

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @breeloveschris

#kate martin x fem reader #kate martin x reader #kate martin #kate martin fanfic #kate martin fic #kate martin fluff #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #iowa women’s basketball #university of iowa #ncaa wbb #wbb #wcbb x reader #wcbb #patsworks

780 notes · View notes

miguelhugger2099 · 7 months

Note

Hello sweetie, hoping you're doing well! What about bully punk Miguel and nerd pastel girl reader at college? (Miguel with 23 and reader with 21) Like reader was ugly and will have a glow up thanks to MJ and now Miguel tries to have her attention, they have a date and sweet and fluff smut!! (reader is virgin uwu) I'll let to you the creativity

Impurities

hello sweetheart you absolute DARLING i genuinely could be better but i hope ur doing great. i want to apologize for taking so long but i want u to know when i saw this i just about melted bc punk miguel is one of my guilty pleasures i adore him so much. this ask made me want to evolve it into a series i had like several different ways to make this but ahhhh i hope it's alright

Punk!Miguel x Pastel!Reader, Fluff and Smut, Word Count: 8,875 Art by: beawoodward on artstation !

You knew you weren’t the most appealing girl out there. You weren’t about to delude yourself otherwise. You knew what people said about you, how they looked at you. Your face could’ve been worse. Maybe some bushy eyebrows? You dressed…maybe a little different than most people. While the world was covered in grays and black, you opted out by showering yourself in the cutest pastel colors. You didn’t keep up with the trends and instead followed whatever you thought looked alright. It often led to some mismatching and awkward outfits but you didn’t think so! You entered campus with a light blue and pink striped pants with a pink belt and a baby blue sweater. Two low braids tied with white ribbons at the end and your white framed glasses on the bridge of your nose. Skincare was confusing to you so all you really did was wash your face with a harsh cleanser and hoped for the best which gave you some acne instead–making you pop them and leave some scars. You tried makeup but it just looked cakey so you settled with a messy and often uneven eyeliner. Regardless of your outfit, whether in a skirt or in pants, you were always decked out in some bright pastel colors and hair done in the same two braids. You held yourself close while walking around the halls, already used to people staring and calling you names from high school. College was a little more merciful, the whispers being just as loud but at least they’d never bully you to your face. You win some, you lose some. Your self-esteem had been damaged to the point of no return anyway, so any attempts of trying to prove you’re worth something would just be a pipe dream in your eyes. That’s why you push your glasses up and cling to your shoulder bag tightly in your fist as you pass by the usual group of boys to get to the front seat of your class. Your human biology class door was opened at the back so you’d have to pass the back seats to sit at the front. As usual, the group of boys were basically monochrome except for the little specks of red or blue if they ever decided to add color. But what was most noticeable about them was the so-called leader of said group. Unofficial–official– leader Miguel O’Hara, the senior who decided to take general education classes in his last year before graduating. His usual confident and toothy grin was on display, silver spider bites that his, also pierced, tongue would often play with. His big and heavy platform boots would rest on the chair beside him while his left elbow rested on the table, his hand combing through his long brown hair–shaved at the sides, mind you. He made sure to push his fringe back so everyone could see his double eyebrow and nostril piercing. Miguel’s hands were decorated with rings, big and small and his nails were short and painted black with some of it chipping off. His usual leather jacket with pins and patches, stretched and tight from his muscular build, was accompanied by a low red tank top with a spider symbol on the front. Black skinny jeans and a spiked belt that did little to actually keep his pants in place since the black and red band of his boxers were showing.

He listened mindlessly to his group of friends as they talked with each other, his fingers switching between playing with the dangling earring on his earlobe to his industrial bar. His crimson eyes glanced up when he saw you in your uncomfortably bright and awkward fashion sense. His friend tapped his shoulder and jutted his chin out to you before whispering something in Miguel’s ear that made him shove him away with a smile. Then they both laughed as quietly as possible, chuckling at what you decided to wear today: light blue overall shorts and a pastel yellow undershirt with white knee high stockings and white sneakers, your usual white ribbons at the end of your braids.

You usually sat alone at the front, placing your earbuds in to listen to music while you waited for the professor. Despite being at the front, you could still hear some faint chuckling and words being whispered from Miguel's group.

Still, you held your head up, taking out your notebook and expensive textbook. Clicking your pen, you began some light note taking before class started.

You sighed as you entered back in your dorm, dumping your bag at the door and kicking off your shoes. You faceplated down onto your bed while your roommate MJ looked over at you sympathetically.

You turn your head, cheek squished against the mattress. “I know that beauty is subjective and I'm not supposed to earn validation from anybody else but…” You sit up and rest on your legs, hands wringing in your hands with furrowed eyebrows.

“But…I want to feel pretty.” You admit softly, ashamed since you felt like you were betraying yourself.

MJ's smile grows and she eagerly jumps from her bed to kneel at your bedside. She takes your hands in hers and squeezes them reassuringly.

“You are pretty,” She insists. “But if you really want help, I can.” MJ tilts your head to look at her, a soft smile on her face.

You nod. “I do. I just want to know how to look like you.”

MJ shakes her head. “No. No, you already have your own beauty.” She places a hand on her chest. “I meant that I can help enhance it. No change to your core is necessary.” She pokes at your chest playfully and you both giggle together.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You take a moment to look at her. MJ really was perfect–shiny straight red hair, clear skin that was painted with freckles and a winning white smile. You hoped she could work some magic on you.

“Okay.”

Your transformation didn't happen overnight. It took at least a few weeks for it all to come together.

MJ had dragged you to salons to get your hair properly taken care of. Gotten your eyebrows plucked, eyelashes lifted, an effective skincare routine–that you struggled to drill into your regular schedule–and a new wardrobe that still held your pastel look, just a little more flattering. She even helped you get some contact lenses so you wouldn’t need your glasses all the time! To tie it all together, you two spent nights practicing how to do your makeup that wouldn't look so wobbly and uneven. Each day, you improved yourself. Your tacky overalls changed into fitted jeans or flowy skirts. Your baggy shirts were now cute tops that hugged each curve. Tennis shoes into heels or cute sneakers and your hair came to life with a beautiful shine; your white ribbon still in your hair.

One day, you entered class like normal. Except there were very few whispers this time, almost nonexistent. Still, you don’t let it get to you and continue like normal–walking to the front of the class and sitting in your usual spot. What wasn’t normal was a figure coming up beside you and pulling out the chair next to you. Miguel slipped beside you in front of the class, tilting his head as he stared at your side profile. You tried not to react but you subconsciously glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

“Hey.” He smirked, his eyebrow raising and his lips curling.

“Hello.” You murmured back, opening your notebook to the next blank page.

“New look?” He asked, using his hand to brush your hair back off your shoulder and you stiffened. He noticed you still had the white ribbon at the back of your head. Miguel’s eyes glanced back down at your body. Nicely fitted flare baby blue jeans, a cute pastel green heart belt with a crop top white sweater.

“Looks good.” He purred. You held your blue bunny pen in your hand tightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t understand why he was speaking to you. He hadn’t before–other than laugh at you–so what gives?

“Thanks.” You say curtly. Miguel places a hand over her heart in feign hurt.

“Don’t be like that, nena. You look so cute, I didn’t expect you to be so cold.” He teased. He crossed his arms and rested his head on them to look up at you while you wrote the rest of your notes down before class started. Miguel watched as your false eyelashes fluttered, making your eyes look bigger. The subtle blush on your cheeks and the concealer that hid most of your past acne. He could still see some of the scars which makes him huff a small laugh at how cute it kinda looks. Your lips were more plump than he remembered–a soft pink to them. He lifts his arm up to rest his cheek on his fist, his eyes still on you. “How about I take you out?” Your pen slips and leaves a slash right down your notes. “What?” “A date. Does that sound good?” You don’t look up, instead focusing on your task at hand. “No. Can you please just leave me alone?” Miguel doesn’t say anything else but you hear the chair he sat on scrape across the floor as he gets up abruptly. You hear the laughter of his friends behind you and Miguel snapping at them. Your shoulders hunch over–the natural instinct to hide from embarrassment overcoming you again.

Every week, in the same class, Miguel would try again and again and again to ask you out. Each time, you would decline. It had gotten bad enough where he changed his seat to move beside you, offering his help when he saw you were confused and overall just trying to get on your good side. You wanted to be strong, truly you did, but it was becoming too much. When Miguel had asked again, you sighed loudly and faced him. “If I say yes will you leave me alone?” Miguel broke into a wide smile. Once you finally agreed to a date with him, you truly weren’t expecting anything good. So you stood by the place Miguel wanted you to meet him at: a local diner that was pleasantly pretty looking from the outside. Still, due to your past experiences of being ghosted and stood up, you watched the time on your phone. You decided that you wouldn’t wait more than fifteen minutes max.

To your surprise, you didn’t have to wait at all. You heard Miguel call your name from your left, his lips curled into a confident smile. Subconsciously, you eyed him up and down. He had baggy black cargo pants, accompanied with chains on his right side. A DIY-ed t-shirt that was sprayed painted over many many times. Of course, his iconic leather jacket was littered with various pins and patches. When he was close enough, you saw just a bit of eyeliner surrounding his eyes; and a new septum piercing. For the people passing by, it was quite a sight to see. Compared to Miguel’s dark but proud aura, you emanated a more sweet and bright vibe. MJ had helped you pick out an outfit, excited that you approached her with the dilemma of going on a date. You wore a sheer baby blue crop top cardigan with a simple white tank top underneath. A slightly darker blue pleated skirt with white thigh high stockings and ankle strap baby blue platform pumps. You held a small purse in your hands and looked up at him through your lashes. Your hair was pinned in a half up and half down hairstyle; your white ribbon at the back of your head. You thought it was a bit much, but MJ assured you that it was just enough. “Te ves muy hermosa.” Miguel speaks up, a grin on his lips. “All for me?” He teases with a tilt of his head. A piece of his fringe falling over his forehead. “Oh, please.” You look off to the side, ignoring the flutter in your chest when called beautiful. Miguel doesn’t take it to heart, instead going past you to open the door of the diner. He dramatically takes a bow, his arm ushering you inside. The theatrics make the corner of your lips quirk up and you enter inside, nodding to Miguel. You turn your head around to see the inside, wooden chairs and tables, a jukebox at the back with a shiny bar. “This way.” You stiffen when you feel Miguel’s breath by your ear. Before you could turn, he places his hand on your lower back and leads you to a booth by the window. He sits across from you, menus at the ready on the table. “You know, I used to come to this place all the time.” Miguel says, his eyes scanning the different options. “Used to be a hangout spot for me and the others in high school. College took up my time so it’s a pain in the ass not being able to visit more.” You glance up at him, shuffling in your seat. It felt a little weird to have him speak to you like this, as if he wasn’t teasing you a few months ago.

Luckily, a waitress comes up before you two with a notepad in hand. “Oh! A pretty girl! Didn’t know you were back in the dating scene.” She cackles to herself and pushes her glasses up. Miguel groans and rolls his eyes. “I thought you didn’t work Fridays, Lyla.” “Margo couldn’t make it, I needed extra hours–and now a bonus– I get to embarrass you. Everybody wins! Except you maybe. Waddaya want?” Lyla rests on one foot, her grin plastered on her face. Miguel’s smile was long gone, now snapping his order at his friend. You watched with an amused smile. They bantered like siblings. But what she said piqued your interest. He hadn’t gone around dating? You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Miguel call your name. His eyes were uncharacteristically soft. “Do you need another minute?” He asks. You stumble over your words and feel your cheeks burn. “No-no, uhm…” You look down at your menu and pick the first thing you see. “The, uh, chicken fajitas, please?” Lyla meets you with a smile and collects your menu. “Of course, darling.” She turns to take Miguel’s menu. “Couldn’t you have taken her to a nicer place? She’s all dolled up.” Lyla sticks her tongue out at him and walks away while Miguel’s cheeks burn red. Instead of facing you, he looks down at his hands and he picks at his black nail polish.

For once, Miguel had stayed silent. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he looked a little ashamed? Embarrassed? You could see him moving his spider bites nervously as he stares at anything besides you, his cheeks still tinged red. You pat your skirt awkwardly and clear your throat. “The…I like the diner. It’s got one of those retro vibes to it. It’s cool.” You give a small encouraging smile. For some strange reason, you thought his quietness didn’t suit him. Miguel’s eyes dart to yours and then at the window. “You think?” His hand reaches up to play with his dangling earring. It was almost cute. Just a bit. You chuckle softly. “Yeah, I mean. It’s like being in one of those time machines.” Miguel smiles. “Time machines? I think a time machine would look cooler than this dump.” You playfully smack his hand across the table. “Didn’t you say you used to come here years ago? Don’t call it a dump.” You fold your arms on your chest. You didn’t know this, but Miguel in that moment felt the tension he didn’t realize he had fell off his shoulders. “Eh, it’s a little bit of a dump.” He leans back and stretches his arm on the backseat. “But it’s like you said: a little retro.” Lyla returns with two glasses of water. “One for the cutie,” she places one on your side, giving you a wink. “And then Miguel.” She unenthusiastically hands Miguel the cup.

Miguel frowns at Lyla, a familiar bubble of jealousy brewing in his chest. “Lyla.” He warns. “What?” She stretches out the word. “Just being a good hostess.” She huffs with a pout and walks away. You giggle to yourself and Miguel notices. He’s quick to speak. “Ignore her. She’s always trying to be annoying.” He didn’t like the way Lyla was buttering you up, even if it was just a joke. He wanted you to smile at him like that. “It’s funny. I never thought I’d see you looking so bothered. How do you know her?” You smile and take a sip from your water. Miguel scratches the back of his head. “Middle school. We were in the robotics club.” You blink. “Robotics club? Really?” “Why’re you so surprised? What? A guy like me can’t be into things like that?” He smirks, placing his arms on the table and his pins rattle as he moves. “Well…kind of?” You smile weakly and laugh when Miguel pretends to be hit. “No, but seriously, robotics isn’t what I expected from you.” “Well, it was middle school. I’ve grown up into a man. This time I’ve taken an interest in being a geneticist.” He rests his head on his hand. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, nena.” He teases but you pause. That phrase is a little ironic for him to say, you thought to yourself. Shaking off that feeling, you continued to chat with Miguel. Talking about your interests, past, future and current studies. All while Miguel would try to sneak little touches, whether it be his boot tapping your heel or his hand brushing against yours when handing you a bottle of ketchup. After spending enough time at the diner, the sun was beginning to set. Before you left, Lyla convinced you to convince Miguel to give her a big tip and told you she hopes to see you again in different circumstances. Miguel holds the door open for you again and the bell dings your departure from the diner. His fingertips gently brush against yours, catching your attention.

“There’s…there’s this other place I wanna show you.” He bites his lip, peeling off the skin. His index finger loosely wraps around your pinky. “Sure…” You say hesitantly. He notices your hesitance. “It’s nearby. Just for a little bit and I’ll take you home.” The wind breezes through, giving you a glimpse of the cool air that will befall once nighttime arrives. You shiver and tuck into yourself to hide from the wind. Miguel takes off his jacket and slips it around you. Feeling the heavy material on your shoulders, you look up at him and feel the warmth go around your torso. Miguel’s eyes are focused on making sure it’s snug as it can be. It’s so large that it ends around your midthigh. He takes your little purse and pops the collar of his jacket up. “Put your arms through the sleeves so it doesn’t fall.” You blink and do as he says with a flustered expression. While shuffling your arms through the holes, you try not to glance over at him. His t-shirt was cut at the sleeves that showed off his toned arms. Despite the cold approaching, he seemed to be relaxed as he watched you, making sure you stayed warm. “Good?” He asked. Your fingers barely poked out, his jacket covering most of your outfit. And it was warm. It smelled like him.

With a satisfied smile, he slyly takes your hand in his and leads you away. You try not to focus too hard on the way his hand engulfs yours. After following Miguel in twists and turns, you eventually walk up a hill and at the very top stood a single bench with a view of the entirety of Nueva York. Your eyes widened and you let go of his hand to approach near the ledge, placing your hands on the railing. The lights of the city illuminated the night sky and acted as stars. You saw them twinkle along with hover cars that zoomed past you. “This is…” “Where I planned to take you another day. But Lyla pissed me off and I wanted to prove that I could take you somewhere nice.” He comes behind you and slings an arm around your waist. You look up at him with an amused smile. “Did you really take that to heart?” Miguel pouts his lips, his eyes looking off to the side. “I couldn’t let her make me look stupid in front of you.” You laugh, using the sleeves of his jacket to cover your smile. Miguel sees and he has a faint smile of his own on his face. He leads you back to the bench where you two sit in quiet comfortable silence after an afternoon of learning about one another. As you look over at the city with him, you couldn’t help but notice the nagging feeling in your chest. This was a date. A date that only happened because you changed yourself. A date with the person who laughed at you.

“Hey, Miguel?” You speak up quietly. He hums and looks over at you. “I…I don’t want you to be nice to me just because I got a little…prettier.” Miguel looks down at you with a frown. He stuffs his hands in his pockets while he looks back at the skyline. He says your name softly to grab your attention. “I’m not being nice just because you’re pretty.” You scrunch your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure all those times you laughed at me was just you being a charmer.” “Laugh at you?” He raises his eyebrows and you look away. “Nena, I wasn’t laughing at you.” “Don’t lie to me, Miguel. I’m used to it. No use in sparing my feelings.” You sigh. “But I wasn’t,” He insists. He wants to reach for your hand, to touch you but he stops himself. “Really, I was…admiring you.” You roll your eyes. “Now you’re really being a jerk. There was nothing to admire when I looked…stupid and ugly.” “You did not.” He turned you to face him by turning your chin softly. “So you’re saying the way I looked before wasn’t stupid?” You glare at him but Miguel can’t find it in him to take it badly. “You were cute. The way you dressed and looked, it was awkward–sure–but it was adorable.” He chuckles but your frown deepens, feeling the tears bubble up in your eyes as you turn away from him. Miguel calls your name again. “I’m the last person to judge anyone for how they dress. Look at me.” Miguel flicks his multiple ear piercings, pulls on his snake bites, stretches his tattered and ruined t-shirt and slams his dirty platform boots to the ground. “A freak. You were just a cuter version.” “Then why did you talk to me now?” You murmur.

“Because you suddenly changed. I wanted to know what was up.” “And…the sudden date?” “Your transformation gave me the courage to speak to you. It was my chance–an excuse to talk to you.” Miguel says softly. “Though you did reject me twelve times. I was starting to lose hope.” “It was not twelve times.” “It felt like twelve times.” “...You have to admit that I’m…much more appealing now than I was before.” Miguel sighs. “Nena, the only thing different about you is clear skin and some clothes. Everything else is still you. You were pretty underneath, you just enhanced it. At your core, you’re still you. Bright and colorful.” He bumps your shoulder. You smile shyly and look in your lap. “MJ said something similar.” “MJ?” “My roommate. She helped me with, y’know, everything.” It was still hard to believe. Over two decades of being told otherwise was not going to go away by a single conversation but it still warmed your heart to hear something positive about you for once. You don’t say anything else and Miguel takes his chance to wrap his arm around you, bringing you to his chest. With flushed cheeks, you look out into the open where the skyline is feeling at peace and just a little pretty.

You two had arrived at your dorm and you faced Miguel shyly. Your eyes looked at the ground as you felt your cheeks heat up. “This is my place.” You state and Miguel chuckles, the sound of it sending your heart pumping. “I see that.” He says, taking a step toward you which makes you take a step back. “I had fun.” You whisper softly, your eyes landing on his chest. You see Miguel’s hand lift up to your chin and make you look into his eyes. Your cheeks burn since he keeps his hand on your chin to make sure you wouldn’t look away. “Me too.” He murmured, his red eyes looking like they turned a darker shade when he glanced at your lips. He takes another step towards you and you take another step back. You feel your head hit the door and realize you’re now trapped between it and him.

You hold your breath and can only feel the pounding of your heart in your chest and Miguel’s calloused fingers holding you still. Miguel then uses his other hand to hold your hip, his thumb trying to slide under your tank top. Your hands raise up to hold onto his biceps, shivering when your skin meets his. He was warm. “I…kind of don’t want this to end.” You admit softly. Miguel’s grin grows wider, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek which makes you weak in the knees. “Then it doesn’t have to, muñequita.” His hand leaves your chin to cup your cheek. He glances up above your head. “Your roommate home?” He asks. Your eyes never leave his face, your pupils dilating and a weird feeling starting to brew in your stomach. “No,” You squeak out and he looks back down at you. “She’s–She’s, um, out with her boyfriend.” Miguel hums, another glance to your lips. “Then…will you invite me inside?” He asks, leaning down so his lips just barely graze yours. Not quite a kiss yet. Your breath hitches and you nod a few times before speaking. “Mhm, okay.” You reach your hand behind you to grab the doorknob and twist it open. You stumble backwards but Miguel quickly wraps his arm that was on your hip around your waist. He then makes you walk backwards while he could shut the door behind him. You had your arms around his neck and looked up with wide eyes and a fast paced heartbeat. Miguel huffs out a chuckle. “You okay?” “Mhm!” You squeak. He squints down at you in playful suspicion but brushes it off. He bends down to where his lips brush yours again and finally dips low enough to kiss you. Your first shared kiss. You stumble with how to kiss, especially when the other person has piercings, but with someone like Miguel, you quickly learn and get the hang of it. Soft kissing noises sound between the small space of you two and he gradually moves from your lips to your cheek and down your neck. His arms around your waist tug you closer, bending you back and he moves you further back to where your calves hit the mattress of your bed. One hand rises up to pull his leather jacket off your shoulder, gently nibbling across your skin before reverting back to your throat. With his lips on your neck, Miguel could feel your pulse going wild, heartbeat going crazy each second. He decides to check in. “You okay?” he murmurs with a smile, his lips finding yours again for quick kisses. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve just–” kiss “Just–” kiss “Y’know, never–” kiss, kiss “Done this before.” He pauses, stiffening before he pulls back. “Wait. Are you saying this would be your first time…having sex?” Your heart sinks. That was bad wasn’t it? “No, it’s not bad.” Miguel shakes his head. You didn’t realize you voiced your concerns. “I’m just surprised, is all. Usually people have done it already.” You look away from him, visibly uncomfortable that he’s lowkey making fun of you. Miguel realizes the damage and quickly tries to fix it. “But there’s nothing wrong with it, nena! I didn’t mean–” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. He looks around your dorm room. Your side is filled with cute things like plushies and fluffy blankets–a strawberry duvet all in the same hue of pastels.

“Look. We don’t have to do anything. I don’t…want to make it seem like I’m only here for that.” He shrugs his leather jacket back on your shoulder. “Because I do like you, nena. I’m willing to wait or if you never want it then it’s whatever. I just would really like a second date at least. Maybe at a nicer place like what Lyla said. Maybe I could clean myself up.” He gives you a weary smile. You stare at his hands that hold onto the zipper part of his leather jacket. For a while, you don’t say anything. “What if I don’t want to wait.” You mumble. You look up with some determination on your face. “I…I want to. With you.” Miguel takes his hands off you. “Wh–Are…are you sure?” You slip his jacket off you and let it fall to the side, stripping off the first piece of clothing from yourself. Your mouth is tight, heart hammering in your chest and cheeks feeling that familiar prick of heat up your neck but you’re sure of yourself. You want this. Miguel rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand before him. “Alright.” He breathes out, undeniably attracted to you at this moment. “But this will all be at your pace, okay? I’ll make you feel good.” He purrs resting his hands at your hips and your facade crumbles slowly and you get shy again. He sits you down on your bed and he kneels before you, his hands on your thighs. He takes your right foot in his hands and carefully unbuckles the ankle strap of your pumps and slides it off. You cover your mouth, heart pounding at the intimate yet innocent act of him taking off your heels. He does the same with your other heel and sets it to the side.

Miguel then looks up at you from his lashes, his confident ones meeting your bashful ones. Taking your right leg again, he slips your thigh high stocking off you and does the same for your other leg. He places his hands on your knees and slowly spreads your legs apart to give you time to stop him. You don’t. “Come closer, mami.” He murmurs, sliding his hands up to grip the flesh of your thighs. You let out a weak mewl and scoot closer to the edge of your bed. Miguel bunches your skirt up, groaning and feeling his cock twitch in his pants when his eyes land on your pastel pink panties, a sweet little bow in the middle like you were a present for him. “Tan bella,” He murmurs, unable to hide the utter desire he has for you. You cover your face in embarrassment as he spreads your legs wider. His lips graze over your thighs, pressing kisses as he makes his way up. You feel your heart skip a beat everytime you feel his warm breath. Your hands clutch your strawberry sheets and he notices.

“You can hold onto me, mami.” He purrs and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Wha…how do I..?” You feel stupid, your hands raising up and unsure of where exactly to put them. Miguel takes your hands and places him in his hair. His fingers curl around yours so you could grip onto his strands.

Feeling your face burn, the sight of you holding onto him while his eyes bore into yours. You instinctively clench your fists, his hair being tugged on in the process which makes him groan and close in his eyes. He likes a bit of pain, it seems

Miguel's hands return to your thighs, wrapping his arms underneath to tug you closer to his awaiting mouth and to keep your legs apart. “Hips up, mama.” He purrs and you do as he says, making him slip your panties off.

He discards them off to the side and delves between your thighs. His nose nudges your nub and you gasp, pursing your lips and gripping tighter on his hair.

“Miguel!” You whimper and he hums in response. You feel the metal ball of his tongue piercing curl inside you–it was strangely pleasurable. You didn’t expect it to feel so good. You rest on one hand behind you, the other still planted in his hair as you bucked forward on his tongue. Miguel the munch that he is, grins against your folds and licks a long stripe up before spitting and devouring your sweet nectar again. You felt the sudden slimy wetness hit your nerves and you yelped in surprise. Just as quick, you fall into submission when his skilled tongue swirled in little number eights. Your eyes were closed shut, your hand pulling Miguel closer to which he obliged. He then surprises you by sticking one of his thick fingers inside you. “Oh my…god.” You moan, your body growing hot and sweaty underneath all your clothing. “Miguel…” Miguel’s mouth moves in rhythm, his lips kissing your pussy as he drinks whatever your sweet cunt offers him. He could stay like this forever, cleaning your mess up and licking you for all eternity. His rings nudge your folds, the metal a stark contrast from his rough fingers. He pumps a second finger inside and it’s a bit of a stretch that feels good enough for you to thrust harder. “Mmm, yes…oh, I’m so close…” You mumble to yourself, chest heaving as you come closer and closer to climax. Unexpectedly, Miguel pulls away from between your legs. The pleasure being ripped from you and you struggle to lift your head as he pulls off you. The look in his eyes is different. More lustful, more hungry.

“If you’re gonna cum, I want you cumming around my cock.” He groans and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Miguel stands up and gets into bed with you, shoving his platform shoes and pants off. While he gets on top, you rest back into your bed and your eyes become big and wide–darting between his face and between his legs. “Is it–will it hurt?” You bring your hands to your chest, clutching the fabric of your tank top. Miguel lifts your chin up to him. His eyes are kind and soft. “It’s not supposed to. I’ll make sure it won’t.” He grabs the waistband of your skirt and tugs it off your legs, throwing it with the other forgotten clothes. His hands make his way up your body, helping you remove the sheer cardigan and sliding your tank top up and over your head. Miguel chuckles at the heart patterned bra you wore. He leans over to kiss your neck and you sigh. The feeling of his lips sucking and tongue licking you was surprisingly pleasurable. Instinctively, your reach around his shoulders to hold onto him, your back arching to be chest to chest with him. Miguel’s hands go under your back, holding you up while he quickly unclasps the bra. Feeling the loss of your support, you whine but Miguel kisses you before you become louder. He places you back down on your back and finally removes the last piece of clothing. Miguel admires you from above, his hands at your waist, rubbing up and down your sides as he feels your curves. “Perfecta. Eres mucha mujer.” He whispers while trailing his lips along your collarbone. You whimper, feeling your cheeks burn and grow hot to the touch. His breath ghosts over your breasts and he stares up at you maintaining eye contact. Miguel notices something in your hair; your white ribbon, still tied in your messy hair. His heart swells and smiles, reaching up to brush your hair away.

He kisses down the valley of your breasts and around your nipple. He glances up at you every so often to make sure you’re not feeling any sort of discomfort. He can feel your heart pounding underneath his palm. Miguel wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks softly. You gasp and hold your breath for a moment while his cold tongue piercing swirled around your nipple, his spider bites and nose piercing pressed against the softness of your tits. You stare up at the ceiling as the warmth in your body flooded down to your core. “Oh! M..Miguel…” You whined, your hands curling in his hair where you felt most comfortable. Miguel flicks his finger around your other nipple, pulling and bullying it until it becomes erect and perky. Even then, he twists it and gropes your tit in time with his sucking and biting. Your hips buck up, feeling your pussy throbbing uncomfortably. When you hit his bulge, Miguel moaned and grinded himself to your soaked pussy in soft circles. Your juices left a stain on his boxers in your desperate attempts at relief. He lets go of your tits–leaving a small bite mark– and continues to kiss down your body. “Gracias a Dios por mandarme esta belleza.” He murmurs, digging his hands into the plush of your hips when he raises your thighs up. Suddenly, he stops and lets go of you. “Shit, shit, fuck–hold on.” He mumbles and gets off you. You feel cold and watch as he gets off the bed and picks up his pants from the floor and searches through his pockets. “Did I…do something?” You ask, worried you might’ve done something that made Miguel regret touching you. He shakes his head. “No, no–just–ah, there it is…” He chuckles to himself after finding his wallet and pulling out a small square packet. He pushes his fringe back with one hand as he gets back into bed. Miguel shuffles down his boxers after putting the packet between his teeth. “I’ll get you pregnant some other time.” “What?” “What?” You close your mouth and hear ringing in your ears. You were sure that steam would be coming out of your head at this point–your mind felt like mush with how easily flustered he made you. Miguel looks down at you and huffs a small laugh, letting you know he was joking. Maybe. Hopefully.

His cock springs free once his boxers are off and he groans when it slaps his stomach, leaving a bead of his precum on his tip. Your eyes shamelessly stare at him. You were by no means an expert when it came to sex but you grew both worried and aroused at how massive he was. “There is…no way it’s gonna fit.” Miguel rips the plastic with his teeth and rolls the condom on his dick to the base. For a moment, you’re disappointed that he added protection. Just for a moment, though. He breathes out and gives soft strokes to his shaft while looking at you from beneath him. He feels his cock pulse and throb, growing harder by the second just by the sight of your perfectly sculpted naked body. He thought you were divine. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he leans down to kiss you as if trying to ease your worries. “It’ll fit, I promise. It’ll feel so good, too.” He whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “I’ll go slow.” He takes one hand to lift your thigh up just enough to give him space to rub his cock between your wet folds. “Miguel…!” You gasp while you feel just how hard he was. He shushes you. “I know, nena. Look what you do to me. Feel what you did to me.” He buries himself in your neck, nipping at your skin and you tilt your head back. More of your arousal soaks his cock, creating wet sounds while you grind on each other and Miguel shudders. He bites into your shoulder and fights against his instinct to shove his cock inside and fuck you into your own mattress. Miguel kisses the spot he bit, his breathing labored and heavy. “Tell me if it hurts, mama, okay?” You nod, your eyes screwed shut. “Uh-huh…” Slowly, Miguel looks down and makes sure his tip splits your folds apart as he enters inside you. Your breath hitches and you tighten your arms around his neck. “Miguel!” You whine while he penetrates you. He kisses your temple and stops when only his tip is inside you.

“You’re doing great, nena. No te preocupes, lo estás haciendo bien.” He reassures you with a shaky voice. It’s clear he’s holding back. You whimper apologies and Miguel kisses across your cheeks to try and return your focus on him instead of the new stretch you’re feeling. He praises you in a mix of Spanish and English–ones you can barely hear. He moves his hand down between your legs and gently rubs your clit with your thumb in hopes of loosening you up. With the added stimulation, you moan and hide in his neck with your eyes shut. You weakly thrust up, feeling a bit of relief and allowing Miguel to push further in. “Good, good,” He purrs. “Just like that, mama. Just let me in.” He groans and hisses when you clench around him. Miguel’s thumb switches between a fast and slow pace, sliding in his cock easily until you cry out and dig your nails into his skin, leaving small crescent shapes. “Stop, stop–” You whimper. “I’ll pull out–It’s okay–” “No!” You keep him close to you. “No, I just–I need a minute.” You sniffle, your body slowly adjusting around his girth. Miguel nods and pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “Okay. Okay, whatever you need. At your pace, remember?” He rests his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to see his cheeks flushed, a bit of sweat running down his temple and he shakes with every breath. Despite his current state of desire, he’s putting you first–he’s putting your comfort first. “Thank you.” You whine softly. Miguel huffs, leaning down to kiss the corner of your eyes. “Don’t thank me for that, nena. Never.” Miguel continues to pamper you with kisses, murmuring about how beautiful you are, how well you’re taking him, how he can’t get enough of you. He nuzzles into your neck, rolling lazily over your clit and does gentle thrusts of whatever you were able to handle. After a few moments, you grab his attention by running your hands through his hair, fingernails scratching over his shaved parts. “Okay…more, please.” He lifts himself up and holds your hips with both his hands. His thumbs caress your hip bones as he pushes himself deeper. You moan and tilt your head back, biting your lip as the combination of pain and pleasure hits your stomach and through every nerve in your body. It felt like forever until he reached the hilt, the light smack of his balls hitting your pussy. Miguel smiles. “Good girl,” he licks his lips. “Mirame.” Your head tilts back down to see both of you finally connected. “Holy shit…” You whisper, the sight making you clench. Miguel moans and grips your hips tighter, his head falling forward as he takes a deep breath. “Fuck, don’t tighten around me like that.” “Sorry!” You squeak and he chuckles. He raises his head back up, hair falling in front of his face and a lazy smile on his face that shows his fangs–his piercings glinting in the dim moonlight. “Don’t be. It’s just, you feel so fucking good–you’ll make me cum.”

You cover your face and resist the urge to scream. The heat emanating from your face made you sweaty. Miguel takes your wrists and pins them to the side of your head. He cocks a pierced eyebrow up with a smirk. It softens when he sees just how flushed your expression is. “‘m gonna move, okay?” You gulp and give him the green light. Miguel looks down and slowly pulls out, watching your slick drench his condom covered cock. “Jesus…” He groans under his breath. He looks back up to see if there’s any sign of discomfort on your end but he’s met with your eyes glued between your legs as well. Your eyebrows are scrunched up in pleasure, mouth agape with shallow breaths while you watch him slowly ease out of you. Miguel’s eyes darken with lust and he pushes back in once his tip was kissing your heat. He watches as you roll your head back, your eyes rolling behind your skull when you felt his cock filling you up again. “Oh my God…” You moan. “Miguel…” Miguel’s heart jumps and his hands tighten around your wrists. Still, he’s careful. For a few minutes, Miguel continues his slow thrusting. He pulls out sweet moans and whimpers from you, getting you used to his massive size and stretching your cunt out to the shape of him. His tip nudges against your cervix and you jump which makes him grin. After those few minutes, you began writhing underneath him. The pain had subsided and now this soft stroking was sweet but it wasn’t doing anything for you anymore. Your hands clenched and unclenched into fists.

“Miguel, Mig–more,” You begged. “Faster.” “You sure?” He slows to a stop and you furrow your eyebrows in annoyance which he doesn’t notice. He’s about to ask again after your lack of response when you lock your ankles around his waist, shoving him back inside you. You and Miguel moan in unison, Miguel nearly falling on top of you if he didn’t catch himself by resting on his elbows by your head. His breath fanned your face and he looked down into your eyes with a heavy blush. “More.” You moan and Miguel quickly goes to work. He leans on one elbow and places his other hand down to your hip to start picking up his pace. Miguel attaches his lips to your chest, biting the plump flesh of your tits before taking your nipple in his mouth once again. Your hands go around his back, your nails raking down his spine that leave red streaks. He pushes himself further against you, folding you in half while he increases his speed, abusing your pussy by slamming his cock in and out of you. Your squealing and moaning becomes music to Miguel’s ears. He groans and licks his tongue around your nipple, lapping it back in his mouth to suck on it. His nails dig into your waist while the sound of skin slapping signaling just how desperate he is to fill you with his cock. “Atta girl,” He moans after moving up to your neck with wet open mouthed kisses. “Knew you could take all of me. Knew you would sound so pretty crying all over my cock.” He smirks, looking up to see your eyes rolled back, tears brimming your eyes in ecstasy instead of pain this time. Your pussy spasms around him as you whimper.

“Mig–Mig–” You babble mindlessly. The only thing on your mind is Miguel, Miguel and Miguel. “So–so good…” You slur, vision going hazy while the lust clouded your mind. Miguel’s ego inflates, his dick twitching inside you. Even with a condom he could still feel your pussy contract around him, your warm walls sucking him in deeper. Your hips wiggle and buck weakly to match his thrusts but ultimately Miguel does all the work, sending your mind spinning while he practically fucks all your thoughts, fears, and insecurities from your brain—turning you into a dumb cock-drunk mess. Through the haze, you can hear your juices sloppily smacking between you and Miguel–an erotic sound of wet plaps, his balls becoming slick and sticky with your arousal. “God, you feel so good,” He moans, hips stuttering. “It’s like your cunt is just begging for my cum. You want it? Huh? This tight little pussy gonna milk me dry?” He quickened his pace, humping against you in fast short thrusts. You scratch his back, multiple lines of red marking his skin while your toes curl. “Yes, please, please, please–I wanna,” You babble through gasps. “It’s so good–I wanna cum–Don’t stop…!” Your voice becomes high pitched, your hips lifting to grind yourself on him. The both of you fucking one another exactly like horny college kids. Miguel growls, nipping at your neck to add more hickeys to your body. “Never. Holy shit–you’re so fucking sexy,” He cuts himself off with a groan, his sweaty forehead falling to your shoulder while he humps you. “Never letting you go. This pussy is mine.” His thumb finds your clit again, his fingers slowly being drenched with your messy juices that had spread all around your labia, smearing around your pussy with the help of Miguel’s unstable thrusting. His cold rings bumped against your hot skin, the difference in temperature becoming another factor in your raw lust. Your screams of pleasure bounced off the walls. “C’mon pretty girl. Cum for me. I know you’re close.” He pants in your ear.

“Mig–gy!” You choke out, eyes squinted in ecstasy as Miguel helps you reach your climax. It wasn’t anything you’ve experienced before. White hot numbing pleasure waving through your body as you spasmed. Your orgasm shook your entire body and you clutched onto him tightly, your legs keeping him near, nails finding purchase in his back and arching your breasts up to his chest, nipples sensitive to the touch. Miguel followed right after: rubbing your clit faster and his balls ached with a tightness before releasing his seed into the condom, his cock twitching as it spurts out his cum. He moans loudly, his body shivering and shaking along with you but he still helps you come down from the high, pumping weakly as he empties himself. Your body falls limp, head lolled back while Miguel breaths heavily. He pulls out as gently as you can but your virgin cunt wasn’t used to such stimulation, each inch back caressed your sensitive nerves up until he finally left with a pop. Miguel’s hands shook as he took off the condom, body now covered in cold sweat now that the heat of the momentum was gone. He stumbled off your bed and tied the condom shut then dumped it in the small bin in your dorm room. He slipped back in your bed beside you, smiling to himself when you took deep breaths with your eyes closed. “Hey, you alright?” He asks with a soft wheeze. “Huh?” You barely heard him over the heartbeat pounding in your head. The blood flow goes through your body normally once again. “Hm? Oh. Mhm. Yeah.” Miguel chuckles, resting on one elbow with his cheek in his palm and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. “Yeah? You were amazing.”

“Really?” You try to look up at him through the exhaustion in your eyes. Who knew sex could take all your energy? Miguel grabs your folded fuzzy blanket and unravels it to drape it on top of you two. “Really. I’m honored to be your first.” You blush at the reminder that you hadn’t had sex before and the reminder that you were no longer a virgin. You stare at his face while his hands caress your cheeks, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck right under your jawline. “Do you really like me?” You find yourself asking him. Miguel’s hand stops moving and he looks surprised. “Yeah,” He confirms gently. “I wouldn’t fuck you if I didn’t. I don’t have sex with just anyone.” He pulls your cheek. You frown and pout at him. “I'm serious!” Miguel chuckles. “I know, I know.” He tilts your chin up with his index finger and leans down to kiss you sweetly for a quick peck. He knows what’s really on your mind. “My pretty girl.” He hums as he stares down at you to admire the afterglow of your orgasm. “All mine. My pretty girl.” He dunks his head down to your chest, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in his embrace and snuggles you.

Your heart flutters. Pretty. It hits you then that Miguel really does think you’re pretty. You feel his ear piercings against your chest and the rings on his fingers running up and down the curve of your spine. His fingers find your white ribbon, crumpled under you and he twirls it around his ring finger. You struggle to hold back your smile as you hug him back, nuzzling your nose in his hair and falling asleep with the comfort of knowing someone genuinely finds you beautiful, inside and out.

a/n: im sorry i wasnt normal i just love a good trope and punk miguel i cant help but make him cute

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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osarina · 7 months

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ᡣ𐭩 YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER)!

FEATURING: dark era!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course. (wordcount: 4.8k; sfw; angst (???) but with a happy ending)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: dark era dazai </3 my heart, i got a sudden urge to write for him and i wanted it to be fluff but then i got this idea and just had to go with it (warnings: fem!reader, smoking & drinking, suicide attempt mentions)

In your defense, you were never dating Dazai Osamu.

Not for a lack of trying on your part, of course. You’ve made your interest in him clear since you met him at sixteen during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, when Mori Ougai pulled you back from where you were stationed in Kyoto dealing with his associates to help with the declining situation in Yokohama. And you’d thought he felt similarly to you. You really did. The two of you had become inseparable within weeks of knowing each other, such a swift and strong connection that it almost felt unreal. You’d heard rumors of him, of course, before coming back to Yokohama—the infamous Demon Prodigy that Mori had brought in and groomed into becoming his heir, ruthless and cold and so terrifyingly intelligent that he had the entire upper echelon of the Port Mafia on edge.

By the time you got back to Yokohama, he’d already had a heavy reputation following him, dark shadows clinging to him like a second skin. Demon Prodigy. Black Wraith. So many monikers attached to him, but he never really felt like the monster that everyone claimed him to be.

He and Nakahara Chuuya had been the one sent to retrieve you from Yokohama Station, an area very close to the heart of the gang conflict, and even from the first meeting, he’d always been… well, you’re not going to say normal because he’s not normal. He’s always had an unnerving air about him, eyes a bit too cold and dark, smile a bit too teethy, but he’s always come across as just another kid your age. Maybe a bit lonelier than most, which could be off-putting to other people, but it never bothered you. And yes, you’ve seen the way other members of the Mafia treat him—they’re scared of him, go to extreme lengths so as to not cross paths with him, but you’ve never seen him in the same light they do.

Well, not until recently, at least.

Again. In your defense, you were never dating him.

But you’d known he cared about you as more than a friend. And you’d cared about him as more than a friend too. And you waited. You waited almost two years for him to say something. You didn’t want to do it yourself, you know Dazai is flighty and he’s not used to emotions, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but god, there’s only so much waiting you can take before you start to give up.

When the two year mark hit, you’d become convinced that Dazai was never going to act on his feelings for you; instead, he’d prefer to wait it out until they passed, and if they never did, he’d just pretend they didn’t exist at all. You can’t really blame him, the Mafia is not a place conducive for relationships, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out and one of you end up dead by a bullet through the head or captured by the enemy, and the thought of getting attached to someone only to lose them is enough to scare anyone away.

But you don’t want to live your life in fear, no matter how short it may be, and you also don’t want to live it alone. So when an opportunity arose at a cafe near the main headquarters, where you met a civilian around your age who showed immediate interest in you, you jumped on it. And it’d caught a lot of people off guard—Kouyou was surprised, Chuuya was baffled and questioning what a civilian could possibly have that interested you, even Mori gave you a double take and an odd look the first time he overheard Elise interrogating you about your new boyfriend.

But no one took it as poorly as Dazai.

Your throat feels tight as you remember the hurt expression that crossed over his face when you told him. It was so brief and so foreign of an expression to see on his face that you’d thought you’d imagined it, he was quick to school his expression back into a cold and closed-off one (one that he’d never directed toward you before that moment), but there was no mistaking the way the corner of his lip twitched and the way he suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes.

How nice, he’d told you, voice frighteningly icy, acidic, even, before he made a half-assed excuse about a mission that you knew he wasn’t assigned to. And it was so unlike him to offer himself up to handle missions, usually Mori has to force him with threats of giving Chuuya his executive position for him to do anything that makes him extend the barest amount of effort . But he did, and he handled it, very bloodily and uncharacteristically inefficient, as if he was releasing all of his pent up rage onto the unfortunate souls who happened to stumble into Port Mafia territory.

You were never, at any point, dating Dazai Osamu.

You think you’ve told yourself it hundreds of times over the past three months, throwing yourself into your work and enjoying a relationship with a boy who clearly was invested in you and cares about you in a way that Dazai Osamu would never allow himself to admit. You also think that Dazai Osamu has no right being as bitter and angry as he is—you gave him two years to come to terms with his feelings and make a move, you’ve made your own subtle hints that he promptly ignored. If he wanted to be with you, he blew his chance a hundredfold, and he can go screw off if he thinks he can be upset about it only after you’d found someone else.

Which is what he did, pretty much, and it was a lot harder than you expected—going from talking to him every waking second of every day, seeking him out whenever you have free time and vice versa, to only seeing him during the joint meetings between the executives and sub executives, where even then, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. It was hard, and deep down, you don’t think being able to experience an actual relationship was worth losing your best friend, but the damage had already been done by that point, so you could only lie in the bed you made.

And you did enjoy the relationship. The boy you’d met was sweet. He was good. He was impressively smart—a government and law major at one of the most prestigious universities in this part of the country—and humble to a fault.

But he wasn’t Dazai.

You knew in your heart that you didn’t want sweet or good, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You didn’t want the type of smart that he was, top of his class and on track for law school, seeking out a job as a public defender in Tokyo. You wanted the type of smart Dazai was, wicked and devious, putting together vicious and efficient strategies to take down enemies of the Mafia, on track for taking over the position as boss in the future. You wanted him for all of his twisted moralities and questionable thoughts.

And it was unfair to you, and it was unfair to Dazai, and most importantly it was unfair to the boy you kept leading on, that you’ve refused to acknowledge this for as long as you have just for the chance of experiencing a real relationship.

Which is why you stand here now, outside the infamous Bar Lupin that you know Dazai has been drinking himself into oblivion at everyday for the past three months, notably single and possibly about to meet your end at the hands of a drunken and scorned Mafia executive.

You think you must look like a fool right now. You’ve been standing right outside the door in the rain for fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should actually go in. You’re nervous, and that makes you sad because you’ve never been nervous to talk to Dazai before, and you’re not nervous because you’re scared of him, you’re nervous because you don’t think you have the balls to actually confront him, knowing that you’d genuinely hurt the boy that everyone claimed didn’t have the emotions to be hurt. He let you in when he doesn’t let anyone in, and you chose to be careless and you chose to give up, and you hurt him.

And you remind yourself again: you were not dating Dazai Osamu. You remind yourself that you gave him chances, he had opportunities, and he chose not to take them. You remind yourself that he’s just as at fault as you are for the falling out, but you can’t help but also remind yourself that he was the one that came out the most hurt by the situation. Yes, him cutting himself off from you was upsetting, but you didn’t have to watch him go around happy in a relationship with someone else. He did.

With that thought in mind, you push the door open to the bar. A soft bell rings above you and instantly, three heads swivel in your direction: the bartender, and two men that you recognize as Sakaguchi Ango, one of the Port Mafia’s special intelligence agents, and Oda Sakunosuke, who you only know through Dazai’s high praise of the man from when the two of you were still on speaking terms. The only person in the room who matters to you doesn’t even bother to look to see who entered the bar, one hand circling the glass of whiskey in front of him while a cigarette dangles from the other. You watch as he lifts it to his lips to take a long drag, head falling tilting back to look up at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Already, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake, but you force yourself to continue.

The bartender nods his head in respect to you, although you can’t help but notice he flashes a wary look to Dazai. You wonder, pitifully, how much he’s said about you in this place. Sakaguchi and Oda share a look with one another. Both of them speak a low murmur of your name, inclining their head dutifully—you’re not quite an executive yet, but with the Piano Man of the Flags dead, you and Chuuya are fighting for the next spot to open up. Chuuya will likely be the one to get it, which you think he deserves from all of the heavy lifting he’s done on operations the past two years, but you feel a bit awkward when they give you your due respect when you're here with your tail between your legs trying to talk to Dazai.

Sakaguchi and Oda take their leave when you arrive, giving short goodbyes to Dazai, telling them that they’ll see him another day, and the bartender makes a fumbled excuse about going to the back to restock, leaving you alone with Dazai. Internally, you wither just a bit because you think if they’d stayed, Dazai might keep a handle on himself because you know he views Oda highly; instead, they left you in the lion’s den alone. Which you might deserve, but you digress.

You let out a quiet puff of air as you make your way over to the bar stool next to Dazai, taking a seat in it carefully. Still, he doesn’t look at you, but you look at him and the aching in your chest returns tenfold as your gaze sweeps over him fully for the first time in months. During the joint meetings between the executives and sub-executives, you were always sure to keep your glances short and sweet, not wanting to risk any lingering looks, but now, you can look at him in his entirety for the first time since that fateful discussion three months ago.

He hasn’t changed much. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s definitely changed. The circles beneath his eye are darker, his expression a carefully constructed blank mask. You think he might’ve lost some weight, his coat has always been big on him but the way it hangs over his shoulders now is looser than it was before. If it weren’t for the way his fingers were tense around his glass of whiskey, you’d have thought he was entirely unperturbed by your arrival.

You don’t know what to say, and you know you need to be the first to speak because you’re the one that showed up here to talk to him, but now that you’re sitting in front of him you’re floundering for words. You could just come out and say that you broke up with your boyfriend, but you feel like that would be a bit weird, and he’d probably laugh in your face and make a comment about how he doesn’t care. You could ask him how he’s been, but you think he might genuinely put a bullet in you for trying to make small talk with him like that right now.

The longer you stay silent, the more awkward it becomes, and you want to cry because you’ve never been awkward with Dazai before, and for a brief second, you wonder if things really have changed too much to go back to how they were.

Finally, you decide to just come out and say, bracing yourself for the inevitable derisive words that are going to leave his lips. “I broke up with him.”

Dazai’s scoff is loud and instantaneous, you bite your tongue, eyes sliding shut as you turn to face ahead instead of looking at him. Cowardly, you know, but you don’t want to see the sneer on his face when he asks you why he should care.

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything at first. If you were looking at him, you’d see the way his cold expression shifted into a more conflicted one, still staring ahead because he can’t bring himself to look at you. You count each passing second, and it’s agonizing waiting for him to speak, a part of you thinks that maybe he won’t, and you’ll just have to leave the bar with your tail between your legs, humiliated.

But then he does.

“Why?” he finally asks coolly, and your eyes snap open and your gaze slides over to him when you realize he did not, in fact, hit you with the derogation you expected.

He still isn’t looking at you, and you watch as he lifts his free hand back to his lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette as he waits for your response. You swallow thickly when you try to figure out what to say next.

What you want to say is ‘because he wasn’t you,’ but you’re not ready to bare yourself vulnerable in front of him like that when he’s still so unpredictable. Just because he didn’t immediately hit you with the harsh words you expected, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lure you in just to slap you in the face with it, which is how you’re sure he perceived what you did three months ago.

Rather, you say quietly: “He was boring, I guess.”

It’s a lie. Well, a partial lie, at least. He was a good guy, he was just boring compared to what you wanted, and what you wanted was Dazai Osamu, who no one in the world could hope to compare to.

“He was boring,” Dazai echoes your words, a cruel and mocking lilt to his voice, and you brace yourself now, taking the sudden switch in tone as the flicking off of the safety. But he shakes his head as he lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it’s another scoff or a laugh. “How cold-hearted of you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your track record.”

Two paths lay before you: you can take the words as well-deserved, trying to avoid the inevitable fight, or you can spit back equally venomous words, dive in headfirst so the two of you can get everything off of your chest. Both choices are double-edged. If you avoid the fight, it means avoiding the topic altogether, and even if the two of you choose to speak again, the resentment of what had happened will only poison and fester. If you dive into the fight, there’s a chance of saying words you can’t take back, and everything might fall apart anyway.

What do you want? You want to ask him, because you aren’t sure what the right decision is. Three months ago, if you and Dazai got into a disagreement about something, you would know in an instant whether or not he wanted to fight it out to let off steam or just pretend it didn’t happen. Now, you aren’t so sure. He’s still not looking at you, so you can’t use the look in his eye as a hint, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and his knuckles are white around his glass of whiskey. Your gaze drags up to his face, catching the way his jaw is tight, teeth probably grinding together, and you know.

You look ahead again, leveling your vision on a particularly nice bottle of wine on the third shelf of the wine rack as you say: “I’d rather be cold-hearted than a coward.”

For the first time since you’ve arrived, Dazai’s gaze cuts in your direction, head snapping to the side. You turn your head toward him just enough for you to eye him from the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of the way his lip curled up into a snarl and the way flames now rage in the browns of his eye—a far cry from the bottomless void, but you prefer the anger to the emptiness.

“A coward?” His voice is low, cold, dangerous.

You’re treading on thin ice, but you choose to stoke the flame more, gaze sliding back to the wine racks ahead.

“A coward.”

The silence that hangs between the two of you is tense and damning, you have to force yourself not to react to it, keeping your expression as stony as his as you wait for his response. He’ll either hit you back with more venom or he’ll settle down, one will lead to a blow out fight and the other will lead to a very tense conversation.

You don’t want to fight him, but if that’s what he wants, you’ll give it to him.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai makes another scornful noise but he doesn’t say anything, gaze snapping back ahead as he takes a drag of his cigarette, this one clearly fueled by anger, far more aggressive than the last one. As if to piss him off even more, he hardly gets half of a smoke, down to the nub already. Frustrated, he puts the lingering cinders out on the bartop before reaching for the pack in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and his lighter.

You watch as he tries to flick the lighter on, cigarette dangling between his lips, but the old thing refuses to cooperate. Distantly, you wonder why Dazai is so damn stubborn: working with an old lighter, living in a shitty shipping container, wearing the same few pairs of clothes every day when he probably has more money than god hoarded from his executive paycheck. But you only force yourself to not roll your eyes as you pull out your own lighter, flicking it on and holding it out to him without looking at him.

You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares at your hand suspiciously before he exhales from the side of his mouth, dipping his head down to light the cigarette before he faces ahead again. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out for his glass of whiskey, still mostly full, and then he slides it over to you.

An offering. A white flag.

You barely withhold the breath of relief that nearly escapes you, accepting the drink and taking a long sip of it. It’s his favorite brand, smooth and familiar on the tongue; you haven’t been able to bring yourself to drink it since your falling out with him.

“Was it really because he was boring?” Dazai finally asks. He’s not looking at you again, but you can see from the way his fingers are tense against the bartop that he’s probably waiting for a certain response from you.

You let your eyes slide shut. “No,” you admit.

“Then why?” he presses, as if he doesn’t already know.

“You know why,” you say tightly, shaking your head and looking down.

“Tell me anyway,” Dazai responds quietly, you can feel his gaze on you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Irrationally, even though the atmosphere between the two of you has shifted, you wonder if this is it: he’s going to get you to admit it and then laugh in your face, cruel but probably deserved.

“Because he wasn’t you,” you finally force out.

He doesn’t respond. Your heart sinks to your stomach, a sick feeling churning. You brace yourself again—you don’t know what for, maybe a laugh or a derisive comment, but he does nothing of the sort.

A long exhale, smoke billowing around his face, a heavy look in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you as he says: “You’re right.”

You don’t respond because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. Finally, he tilts his head to look at you, a wry smile on his lips—your chest feels warm at the sight, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile. Probably not since the falling out.

“I was a coward.”

Oh.

The frustration you felt all of those months ago returns with a vengeance. You had danced with possibilities back then: that you were reading too much into things, that he didn’t actually care for you the way you did for him, that he simply did not want to be with you even if he did care about you that way. Now, faced with confirmation that he had felt the same but was just too pussy to act on it, your chest swells with that familiar anger. You force it away.

“Why?” you ask after a few moments of silence, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you rest them on your lap. “I… I waited for two years, Dazai. I gave you so many openings. You knew how I felt.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, barely audible.

“Then why?” you repeat his words back to him, pressing hard just like he did. His throat bobs beneath his bandages as he swallows, averting his gaze, or trying to, at least, because you don’t let him. You reach out to grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look at you, and the pads of your fingers burn against his skin, hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time you’ve touched him in three months. “Why?”

His hand comes up to grab your wrist as if to pull your hand off of him, but he doesn’t, grip firm around your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, and you’re acutely conscious of the fact that your pulse is probably racing but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“I told you why,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen him before. “I was a coward. I… didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship... I don't have many friends. You know that. I would’ve rather just ignored how I felt and kept you as a friend, because I didn’t think there’d be a chance of losing you that way. I thought if I acted on how I felt, one day you’d eventually see me for what I am and I’d lose you altogether.”

“Some good that did you.” You can’t help the resentful words that spill from your lips, but you feel guilty when he winces, hand dropping back to your lap, his grip slipping from your wrist. “You think I don’t already see you for who you are? We’ve known each other since we were sixteen, Dazai. I know all of the sick and twisted thoughts that run through your head, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

Dazai shakes his head, as if to deny your words. You get frustrated.

“I spend hours at your recovery bed after your attempts, I’ve caught you in the middle of them myself, do you know what the first thing I did was after I told you I had a boyfriend?” you demand, and he stares at you, unsure. “I put a protection detail on him because I thought you’d try to have him killed, or try to kill him yourself.”

Dazai winces. You shake your head and look away, settling down again.

“For someone so smart, you really are so goddamn stupid sometimes,” you sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table. “I saw you for who you are, and I wanted you anyway.”

“Wanted?” Dazai asks, an uncertain expression on his face as he zeroes in on the past tense.

“Want,” you correct, voice little over a breath, and something akin to relief sweeps across his face as his gaze drops down to the bartop.

The silence that hangs between the two of you is more comfortable this time. Reassuring, even, because maybe things might still be awkward between the two of you for a while, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, one much brighter than the one the two of you lived in three months ago.

“I can’t believe you went for a civilian,” Dazai suddenly says, almost sounding indignant. “A civilian. You!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snap when you hear the incredulous tone he takes when he says ‘you’.

“You’re a stone cold bitch,” Dazai accuses and you gape, but you can’t find it in yourself to be offended because his eyes are lit up for the first time in months, a lopsided smile painted on his face. “And you’ve got as much blood on your hands as I do. You. A civilian. I think I would’ve been less offended if you went for Chuuya.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” you snort, and then you add, a bit amused, “you know what he wants a job as?”

“Tell me,” Dazai drawls, resting his chin on his hand as he leans on the bar, watching you with such a fond expression that it makes you feel warm all over.

God, you missed him the past three months.

“He wanted to go to law school. Become a public defender.”

Dazai chokes over the smoke he inhales, and you press your hand to your lips to smother your giggles as he desperately wheezes between laughs. You’re not sure if he’s actually choking, you think he might actually be dying from how red his face is getting.

“Maybe you should keep in contact with him then,” he gasps between laughs, “we might need one of those one day.”

“As if you’re sloppy enough to ever get caught,” you say dryly.

He winks at you, his grin sharpening, and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Oh, I’m not. By ‘we’, I meant you.”

“Douchebag.” You roll your eyes, letting another silence settle over the two of you, a smile on your lips now as you take another sip of your drink. He’s the one to break it again.

“... Odasaku convinced me not to, by the way.”

“What?”

“To kill him. I was going to. Odasaku convinced me not to.”

You let out a sigh of utter suffering, giving Dazai a pointed look—see, you say silently, I know you. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish as lifts his cigarette back to his mouth in lieu of responding to your unspoken words.

“Stop with the self sabotage, Dazai,” you finally say, tired. “For both of our sakes’.”

He doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough to know that he’ll probably never stop with the self sabotage, but he does reach out to lace your fingers with his, and the warm feeling that spreads through your chest is enough to satiate you.

Little steps, because no, the Mafia is not a conducive place for relationships and yes, it’s only a matter of time before luck runs out for one of you, but if your life is destined to be short, there’s only one person you want to spend it with.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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beababoobies · 8 months

Note

Hi!

Can I please request Sir Pentious x reader NSFW headcanons/fic/whatever you wanna write?

If not that's okay, I hope you're having or have had a wonderful day :)

👀… yeah. I gotchu. I um. Yeah. 👀

Double Trouble - Headcanons + Minific

warning. smut. filth. you know the deal. that’s why you’re here. AFAB reader. enjoy lovely.

🐍 He’s super self conscious at first. It’s not easy having two dicks! Especially when both of them are bigger than average. He’s super hesitant to even touch you at first, he doesn’t want to hurt you.

🐍 A bottom. Jesus Christ, a bottom. Physically and emotionally this man is farthest from dominant. If you really wanted him to, he could try? But he’s just really soft & sweet..

🐍 He’ll encourage & praise you the entire time… when he’s not on the verge of losing it. Whether you only want to try taking one, or maybe if you’re extra adventurous and want to try both of them… not recommended, but it’ll turn him into a whiney mess.

🐍 Cries during sex. Just kiss his tears away and tell him he’s being good for you and he’ll have to hold never want to leave. Practically melts underneath you.

🐍 His fav position is definitely, DEFINITELY cowgirl (/boy.) and he will always be grabbing at you when he’s on the bottom. Your waist, your chest, your thighs. Your skin is just so soft and warm, he can’t help it.

🐍 He prefers sitting cowgirl though, so he can kiss you. He loves being at eye level. Sex is about love & intimacy to him, which is one of the reasons he really can’t understand Angel. How can you be so loving with that many people??

🐍 Sensitive. Very, very sensitive. Also, because he’s cold blooded, his cum is most on the cold side. Which means he always wants to cum inside you. You’re just so warm and lovely, he doesn’t ever want to pull out…

🐍 Whiney. Vocal. Whiney and Vocal. He will be writhing and whining at the smallest touches. Your name, small praises, begs. If you want to do it at the hotel in your room, you’re going to have to gag him on something, or slap your hand over his mouth. Those walls are too thin for this mans behaviour.

🐍 Loves going down on you. Whether it’s eating you out for hours until you have to forcefully shove him away, or just nipping at your thighs for a couple minutes. He loves the taste of you on his tongue. The vibrations of his long tongue pressed up against your favourite spots when he hisses?

🐍 I digress.

You had finally felt brave enough to attempt to take both of them - usually, you’d be riding one of them and stroking the other, it was a gorgeous sight - albeit, messy - with him begging and crying underneath you. But this time, he was trying to keep it together. For you.

It had already been thirty minutes of him making you cum multiple times from eating you out, now all pussy drunk beneath you as he fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, piercing him lips together the best he could to stop himself from whining.

“You’re doing - ngh, sssss-ssso good, my dear..” he hissed out, watching your run your lubed up slit up an down the tip of his cocks, preparing yourself for what you knew would be a painful stretch. You sighed softly as you held still, lining both the tips up with your entrance before gently pushing yourself down, a choked moan coming from your mouth as you grabbed on tightly to the sheets beneath you.

“Oh my ssssatan.” He mumbled softly, clenching his eyes shut extra tight as he gently rubbing your hip, trying to help you ease into it. He knew you were in some pain, but for him? God, this was fucking euphoric. Having the love of his life trying to ride both of his cocks, warm walls clenching tightly around his tips as you tried to go down lower.

Through his brain fog, he trailed one of his hands down to your cunt, gently using his thumb to rub small circles against your sensitive bud, making the pain fade more and more into pleasure as you let out a sigh of relief, bending your knees just a little bit more to take more of him.

“Ssssso good.” He whines out, throwing his head back as he tries his best not to accidentally buck his hips into you as you let yourself get used to the feeling, being stretched out so thin felt so good, but that didn’t change the fact that there was still that light stinging, and you ended your mental battle with dropping down completely, lurching forward with a sharp whine.

“g-godsss - ssso tight.” He mumbled out as he let you get used to the feeling, both of his cocks already throbbing for release inside of you. God, this might be heaven on earth, is all he could think - the feeling of you, tightly clenched around him, wet and needy, taking both of his cocks.

He didn’t even want redemption anymore. This was heaven.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin sir pentious #sir pentious x reader #sir pentious #snake man supremacy #hazbin hotel spoilers

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biteyoubiteme · 2 months

Text

blueberry float

fem!reader x huening kai

synopsis: you get carried away after a day on the beach with your surfer boyfriend

warnings: 🔞!! slight nipple play, oral (f!rec), marking, tummy love, public/semi-public sex, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.83k

an: you cannot tell me kai doesn't give off surfer vibes, he is so summer coded its unreal. this is apart of my float event check out the other memebers fics! feed back appriciated :)) not proofread sorry [m.list] [float m.list]

Kai has seen you in a bikini before so this time should be no different. only you’re standing under the outdoor shower head rising off the salt of the ocean, the sand dotting your skin, head leaned back as you run your fingers through your hair. That strappy swimsuit is the perfect pink color against your skin. droplets of water sliding down between the valley of your breast, dripping along your stomach, your thighs. he had done a double take when you had taken off your loose gauzy button-up shirt. he had seen you naked more times than he could count but something about so little fabric was making him hard, the illusion of your nipples outlined in the fabric drawing him in.

he had been trying to ignore you as much as he could, staying out on the water longer than he thought he would. but it was hard to look away when you were laid out on your towel, turning every half hour to tan, he didn’t know if it was harder to see the curve of your ass or the way you almost spilled out of your top. he wouldn't be able to stay out on the dying waves, tae and Gyu already drying off next to where you’re rinsing, the sun already hanging low in the sky. Kai also knew that once the rest of them made it back to the little beach house you guys had rented he wouldn't be able to get you alone. The walls were so thin he could hear when the other members walked around, the muffled conversations they had. He wasn't very good at being silent when it came to you.

Even when you started to dry off, your towel hanging around your shoulders covering most of your body he couldn't get the image out of his head. He was so out of it he didn’t hear Yeonjun calling for him wondering why he wasn't following after. distracted as he paddled after the rest of them.

you were no better off than Kai as you watched him come out of the water. the swim trucks he wore, heavy with water hanging on his hips just right and sticking to his thighs. he was wearing a skin-tight water shirt, the black material clinging to every ridge of his arms, chest, and stomach. he was shaking his head off the water, hair stuck to his temple. his surfboard tucked under his arm as he made his way over to rinse off.

He gave you a tight smile as he hit the faucet, leaning his board against the wooden rail people kept their towels on. He stood under the stream, tossing his head back and running his fingers through his hair. you watched him flex, the water making the material of his shirt shiny, a perfect map of every line making up his body. you tried to hold your towel out for him but he shook his head putting it back around you. the boys talking about what we should have for dinner. “I think we're going to do a lap around the beach,” Kai added, putting an arm around your shoulder. the boys nodded, taking his board with them as you were led away from the direction they were going.

“Are you okay?” you ask, arms circling his waist, he still wasn't looking at you only making his way past a few people sitting around on the sand.

“yeah I'm good,” but his voice is strained from trying to keep losing his cool. but the way you were leaning on him was pressing your boob right against him, every glance down to you was directed at your exposed cleavage. he was trying to not make it obvious he was hard but it wasn't helped that he could only feel the ache of your absent hands on him when you were this close already. It wasn't until you were past the few larger rocks separating the beach into smaller sections that he turned to you, wrapping your face in his hands and kissing you breathlessly.

Kai was fervent, sloppy with his need as he curled his fingers in your hair, nose brushing against yours. He wanted you close to him, one hand sliding down to your waist to push your hips into his. your gasp at how thick and hot he was in his swimsuit was caught in his throat. his kisses down your jaw, as you ran your hands over his stomach, trying and failing to curl your fingers into the fabric. “please,” he groaned against your neck, “I need you, I want you so bad,”

“here?” you ask looking over his shoulder, “anyone could see us,”

“I'll be quick,” he mutters already pushing the towel away, letting it fall to the ground, “I promise, I just can’t wait anymore, and we haven't had sex the whole time we've been here because those stupid thin walls,” he’s kissing down your throat, teeth grazing over your pulse, “please, please,” he begs between every peck.

It wasn't often that Kai was this needy, trying to grind into you, fingers almost bruising against your hip to try and pull you close to him for any friction. it didn’t take much thought to agree, the images of him all day running through your mind. the way he caught a wave, the cocky smile he wore when he stayed up longer than his friends, all the clinging fabric, everything about today was making you wet. “promise to be quick,”

he was nodding, pulling away to lay out your towel on the sand for you, pulling you down so that you were laid out on your back.

Kai sat on his knees wishing he had his phone to take a photo of you. He reached out tugging on one of the stings holding your bottoms on effectively untying them.

he leaned over you leaving hot open-mouthed kisses down from your collarbone to your chest. groping you over your bikini top, teeth grazing over your covered pebbles nipple. “you can’t leave marks we’ll be here all week my concealer will be washed away when we go swimming,”

“But you brought the black one-piece right?” he slid down kissing over your ribs.

“yes,” you nod, twisting your fingers in his hair. “So wear that one because I don’t think I’ll be able to function seeing you back in this one, do you know how difficult it is to hide a boner in wet swim trunks?”

you giggle as he presses his lips over your stomach, licking and nipping your flesh. He loved to leave you covered in little bruises, from your chest to your thighs he didn’t stop and your tummy was his favorite spot. leaving bites along his path, burying his face against your soft skin.

“All day I’m trying to think about anything but you all wet and then you stand there looking like I should lick up every drop of water,” he bites the strap still tied at your hip tugging it with his teeth until it’s undone and you’re bare for him.

“you said you would make it quick,” knowing Kai could spend hours between your thighs if you let him.

“I wanna kiss this pretty pussy before I ruin her,” he ghosts his lips over your clit making you chase the feeling. hips lifting enough for Kai to hold them down.

he swipes his tongue through your folds drawing a line from your entrance to your clit before latching on and sucking you hard enough to have your back arching a strangled whine leaving your lips. you want to be quiet but as he laps up your wetness you’re struggling to keep your bodies to a minimum. one of your hands sinking into the sand next to you, grains sliding between your fingers doing little to keep you sane. and then he’s prodding your entrance with his tongue nose bumping your clit in perfect synchrony.

you push him further into your cunt not caring if he can breathe when you’re cumming. his name on your lips as you come down finally letting him up. He wastes no time in freeing himself from his trunks dragging the head of his cock through your wetness making your legs twitch. “no time for much prep but I know you can take it,”

you feel the stretch of his mushroom tip as he pushes in slowly inch by inch. his eyelids heavy as he’s swallowed into your still thumping walls. “Sucking me in so good,” he moans pressing his pelvis to yours.

you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips needing him as close as possible when you’re this exposed. but even if someone walked around the rocks right now and saw you two you don’t think you would even notice.

Kai buried his nose behind your ear, kissing anywhere he could as he gave shallow thrusts. As much as he could say he would finish fast he forgot that as soon as he was back between your legs. your warmth so inviting he would lay still just cockwarming you without a care in the world. but then you were moaning, “Faster, please hyuka,” nails trying to scratch his back through the fabric of his shirt. squirming under him for friction.

following instructions he picks up speed finding his pace without much effort. hips knocking yours the wet sounds of his movements hidden behind the sound of the surf.

he was whimpering into your ear before planting both hands on either side of your head to find more leverage. His head thrown back, wet hair hanging against his forehead, throat exposed making you want to kiss his adam’s apple. He was close, sloppy thrusts and soft moans proof enough. He slipped one hand down between you two pinching your clit enough to not hurt.

he was buckling, shoulders curving in as you felt him twitch inside you, body falling forward as he came still cautious enough to not crush you. you could feel his hot cum fill you, your thighs weak as you followed right over the edge with him. both of you trying to stifle your moans to no avail.

you’re still trying to catch your breath when Kai laughs, “There was no way we could have stayed silent in the house, everyone would have known,”

“So in public it is,” you giggle, pushing the hair away from his face and behind his ears. “I can’t be blamed, you looked too good,” he planted a single kiss to your lips, “I wouldn’t be able to last another minute if you put this one on again,” he smiles, flicking at the straps around your neck.

When you two are cleaned up and Kais is tying your swimsuit bottoms back up he looks up from his knees. “you know you have sand everywhere, maybe I should help you out in the shower to get it all off?”

#txt huening kai smut #huening kai smut #huening kai x reader #txt huening kai #huening kai #hueningkai #kpop smut #txt x reader #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun

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theminecraftbee · 1 year

Text

sigh okay this year i have actual mob vote opinions. disclaimer: my MAIN opinion is that if i see too much mob vote salt on my dash i'll just block the relevant terms again, and that all three mobs are adorable and i'd like any of them. however, my vague thoughts on them:

crab: i have inherent vault hunters-based crab grudges. the coconut crab appears in my nightmares. however, past that, the crab as an animal is fun, i like crabs alright. the fact it's shown crawling up trees sideways is neat. i'll say mangrove forests are ALREADY one of the loveliest, most alive-feeling biomes, so i don't know if they need an exclusive mob? but it's also realistic for the crab so i'll take it. when it comes to the crab claw itself... many questions. is it an off-hand item? or like create's extendo-reach thing? or what? how MUCH additional reach does it give you? even just two blocks can be wildly useful in my modded experience, but like, is it one or two blocks, or does it double your reach, or what? and does that reach extend to mining at all? the video says it's just block placing, which would make sense from a balance perspective, but does sort of hamstring the claw's usefulness if that's the case; if you misplace a block you're going to have to scaffold over there anyway. if it DOES include mining reach... oh boy, that's a whole new ballgame.

armadillo: cute! i like armadillos! seeing it curled up as a ball, i wonder if it has a block-like form like that? that sounds really fun! like a shulker, or something else you could stand on. (that is PURE speculation, nothing else to suggest that is shown in the video.) it being found in "warm biomes like the savannah" i like more than the mangrove-exclusive crab, especially since the savannah can feel a little sparse and lifeless. i wonder if it's in other warm biomes? as for its effect, it has the most straightforward one: when it gets scared it sheds its scute, and you can use that to make wolf armor. i like wolf armor! wolves have needed some way to make them more survivable for ages! it's not like, got potential to be a massive gamechanger or anything, but it doesn't have to, it's fun!

penguins: by FAR the cutest design. i love that they chose macaroni penguins, excellent choice. the fact they're native to stony shore biomes is also an excellent choice (and far better than choosing a snowy biome; more penguins live in places like the stony shore irl!). the stony shore having penguins also gives it a bit more of the life stony shorelines have irl. their secondary effect, though... honestly, "make boats go faster" doesn't really speak to me? i am enjoying imagining a world where this effect works while iceboating (prepare to rubberband ALL OVER THE PLACE), and i think it would be fun, it just personally compels me the least. which is a shame, because i think the penguins are ABSOLUTELY the cutest!

overall, i think i land towards the armadillo. i like that none of them really have any big, exciting, game changing feature, just nice-to-have. makes it feel less like we miss out on something huge when two of them lose, just miss out on something potentially cute. i still wish the old mob votes could still be added to the game and that the losers here would also be added to the game. i wouldn't be mad if any of these guys won honestly they're all cute and have mildly interesting effects.

and this will be the last time i discuss the mob vote, except maybe to reblog cute art.

#minecraft #wanted to ramble my thoughts #anyway yeah i am Mildly Interested in all of these guys #i think the crab claw has the most potential to be gamebreaking but that it probably won't be lol #and that i understand what the wolf armor would do best #so. armadillo for me i think.#mob vote

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silverskye13 · 6 months

Note

Helsknight showing up bloody at Welsknight’s base please I need suffering 🙏

There was something to be said about the stupid things he was willing to do in the name of self preservation. Damn his fears, and the unfairness of the universe, and the uncertainty of living [and dying] and everything else. The unknown had always been his greatest weakness, his greatest betrayer. Pity it was also one of the few inescapable things about living in general.

To say Helsknight stepped into Hermitcraft would be a terrible injustice of what stepping normally, let alone gracefully, looked like. What he actually did was stagger and drag himself into Hermitcraft on unsteady and shaking limbs. There were holes in him. He hadn't really taken inventory of them yet. Admitting he had a wound [or several] was enough. The minute he admitted the wounds were bad, in certain terms his mind could comprehend, was the minute shock would steal his senses. He was on Hermitcraft for the specific reason of dodging death, and it seemed to him shock, on any level, meant dying. If he wanted to die and roll the dice of respawn, he would have died in hels, in the alley he'd been jumped in, where he could at least take comfort in familiar cobblestones and the knowledge he'd dragged all his attackers down with him. But he didn't want to die, so he was here.

It was dark. He was inside a building. He was bleeding. Wels was nearby. Those were the only things he needed to know for certain. Helsknight looked around, trying to ignore the sluggish tilt his vision offered when he moved too quickly. The double vision of trying to parse memories of a place that weren't his battled with his wounded animal double vision and together they made him feel nauseous, more so than his wounding already did. Helsknight balled a fist against his sternum, like he could hold himself together that way, and concentrated very hard on walking and nothing else.

Helsknight didn't like being this close to Wels. Not while he was this injured. He could feel the awareness of his other half like a spider on his skin. There was a reflex-like urge to shout and try to shake it off, the instinct-like certainty that if it rested on him long enough it would find a reason to bite him. And he knew, in the way only experience could teach, that if he could feel Wels, Wels could feel him. Helsknight had the sensation of walking a tightrope: his body insisted speed was the only thing that could save him, while his mind insisted he must stay unnoticed. He must balance necessity with making his thoughts and emotions small, and it was hard work to do when he was losing blood.

Helsknight blinked slowly, tiredly. He picked a direction and walked, a hand pressed to the wall, keeping himself upright. Wels's potion room was nearby, a borrowed half-memory informed him, he just had to get there. He searched his drifting thoughts for a poem to repeat in his head, to keep fear and uncertainty from rising. His heartbeat was quickening, a symptom of something; panic, or fear, or blood loss, or all three combined. He was fixing one of those things. He needed to carefully manage the other two, before Wels felt them. The only poem he could think of was in Middle English, and mostly gibberish to him, which told him it came from Wels's memories somewhere.

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

Tak doun o rode my derworth child,

Or prik me o rode with my derling!

[Rhyming child with child was a lazy, but this was written back when one could convincingly spell "down" as "doun" so he supposed he shouldn't be overly critical. The real trick was figuring out if "derling" was supposed to mean "darling", or some other archaic word lost to time. He could only figure out so much from context clues. "Mourning" apparently transcended centuries, and that seemed fitting. Everyone knew mourning, in some form or another.]

An ache opened up beneath his clenched fist, or it had always been there, and his body was only just now reinforcing the fact that it was important. It felt like the mother of all cramps in his muscles, and he stubbornly pretended that's what it was. He needed more potassium in his diet or something, and the gods would forgive him the smear he left on the wall when he leaned on it, waiting on the intensity of his pain to ebb. The doorway he was walking towards seemed close, but also very, very far. Closing distance with it was going a lot slower than he thought it would, and it was only one short hallway. He was glad he'd decided to do this, instead of his other half-considered option of attempting to walk across hels to the Colosseum. He wouldn't have made it.

Dread pooled in his stomach. Dread, and other more physical things, like blood, probably, but he pretended the dread bit was more important. He could feel Wels pricking on his skin again, an insistent spider twitching at a breath on his web. Helsknight breathed out the steadiest breath he could manage.

More pine ne may me ben y-don

Than lete me live in sorwe and shame;

As love me bindëth to my sone,

So let us deyen bothe y-same.

[Sorwe. What medieval idiot thought "sorrow" was spelled like "sorwe"? Maybe it had something to do with inflection. Poetry was half words, half rhythm. Maybe "sorwe" was supposed to indicate they wanted the reader to pronounce "sorrow" as a single syllable, so it sounded more like "sore". That's also probably why "bothe y-same" was sitting there like word vomit. They meant "both the same", but wanted it read without a pause between the first two words. It was really the method for the madness that mattered with poetry.]

Helsknight blinked. He was in the potion room. He couldn't fully remember the walk down the hallway, but that didn't matter. What mattered was there should be health potions in here somewhere, his salvation. Relief edged his vision in stars, and he once again felt Wels's attention cant in his direction, confused and curious. Wels didn't associate feelings of relief with Helsknight. It wasn't an emotion they felt in each other's presence, and it was far too strong to be muffled by the distance to hels.

[He knows I'm here.]

Helsknight opened a chest and rifled through it. His vision was protesting. Stars and tilting that would turn to spinning soon made a clutter of his eyes. It got hard to distinguish the colors of the stoppered bottles. He picked up one that felt overly warm to his cold and shaking fingers. He was pretty sure it was a health potion. It felt too hot, but he reminded himself he was cold from losing blood, so it should feel hot. Hesitantly removed his fist from where it was balled in front of his sternum, and let his eyes unfocus when he grasped the bottle's stopper. His hands were so unsteady, it took a couple tries just to grab it, and when he pulled on the cork, his fingers slipped off weakly. He tried again, eyes closed with concentration, pouring every ounce of his strength into the act of pulling a stopper out of a bottle, only for his hand to slip right off again.

Frustrated, nearing desperate, he looked down at himself for a clean place to wipe his hand on his tunic. It was a mistake. He knew it as soon as he did it. His eyes were inexorably drawn from the fabric to the poke-holes in it, to the wine-dark stain that flowed down his front and still dripped tak-tak-tak slow and inexorable onto the floor. It was a woeful amount of blood. He was honestly surprised he wasn't dead yet. Chalk it up to fortitude, and ignorance, and size. He had more blood to lose than some people did.

Helsknight's world suddenly gave an awful twist, vertigo and the crescendoing, cramping agony of his wounds, only staved off by how his now shattered ignorance, kicking him off his feet just as surely as a horse could. He slumped against the wall, and then to the floor, and the awful jarring of it hurt him worse. Half a dozen other wounds on him aired their grievances, and the big one near his sternum pushed blood onto his fist when he clutched it. Helsknight sat pinned, unable to breathe for many long seconds, feeling a bit like he'd been struck by lightning. The pain was blinding and numbing and overwhelming all at once.

Why-- have no-- have ye no-- something something...

[Words. Breathe. Think of words.]

[Gods... But it hurts......]

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

[And what the hels did "routhe" mean, anyway? He knew the word "route". He knew the name "Ruth". Neither of them fit, unless his bloodless brain was missing something. There was a chance "routhe" was supposed to be read like "bothe", as a double word slurred together, but that still left "routhe the" which made less sense in context than "routhe" did.]

Right. He was supposed to be doing something other than bleeding to death on the floor. Helsknight blinked, looked down at his hand and realized the health potion he'd grabbed was gone. He must have dropped it when he slumped over. Looking around, he spotted it just to the side of his left boot, unbroken, thankfully, but it might as well be a lifetime away for all the good it did him. Helsknight knew without a shadow of a doubt he couldn't reach it. The idea of tensing his muscles and dragging himself forward to reach was exhausting, and he hurt so much he knew the movement would feel like tearing himself in half, and there were just some things a mind couldn't power through. Helsknight laughed dismally and let his head fall onto his chest. Both motions were white hot agonies, but all his pains were starting to blur together into a smear of overwhelming sensation that took thought away. It occurred to him he was breathing too fast, like he'd run too far too fast, and his fluttering heartbeat agreed.

[... It hurts...]

[Gods and saints it hurts.]

[I'm dying.]

A feeling he could only describe as doom fell on his shoulders, a cold grasp of fear that wrapped stony hands around his heart and squeezed. He'd heard of this. Never felt it himself. The utter sureness that if he didn't do something now, he would die. All the unconscious bits in his body in charge of keeping him working all unanimously agreeing they needed divine intervention, preferably right now, before they started shutting down. It wasn't something he often had occasion to feel, though he had heard people tell of it after particularly grizzly matches and bloody tournaments. Death was normally too quick in the Colosseum, or else he'd won his match, and even if he was falling to pieces there was a health potion too close to hand to let him dwell on his harms. This was so terribly different. Death stalked toward him unhurried and unbothered, waiting on him to finish drowning in blood. He might panic, if he wasn't already so cold and scared.

"Ah. This makes some sense, anyway."

Helsknight, who had stopped seeing the world in front of himself without really closing his eyes, refocused his vision on the open doorway. Wels stood there, an angel of death in azure and silver, his sword in his hand. His eyes were the ruthless blue of hels freezing over and lifeless corpses, and Helsknight thought there was no one else in the world he would rather not watch him die. But the universe hated him, so here Wels was, just as surely as if he was fated.

"I didn't think all that fear could possibly be for me."

Helsknight tried to reply, but all he managed was a dying-animal noise that strangled itself out when he tried to breathe a little steadier. He tried again, and this time managed a very weak, but vaguely defiant, "Fuck off."

"Rude," Wels said chastisingly. A glow of something like smug satisfaction prickled Helsknight's skin. The feeling came from Wels. "Especially given I'm the only person who can save you."

Helsknight chuckled, and then stopped when his body seized painfully around the motion. "We both know you don't want to save me."

"No," Wels admitted. "But I don't want to do a lot of unpleasant things I agree to do anyway."

"How... charitable."

"It is a virtue."

"Sure."

Wels didn't move. Well, he did move, but only to sheath his sword. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, the image of patience, as though they had all the time in the world.

[Hungry spider. Waiting on a web for something to struggle.]

"If you're waiting on me to beg," Helsknight informed him through staggering breaths, "I won't."

"Too prideful?"

Helsknight searched himself momentarily for pride, and came up short. Pride would've dictated he die in the alley, instead of here where Wels could lord it over him. This was something different than pride.

"No."

"Then why not?" Wels asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's easy. Just say, 'Welsknight, please give me a health potion'. Or if you're feeling monosyllabic, just 'please' will work."

Helsknight managed a smirk. "Why not help me out of the kindness of your heart?"

"I don't have any kindness for people like you."

[People like you. What a loaded phrase.]

Have ye no routhe on my child?

There was an entire philosophical debate that could happen in the phrase 'people like you' that Helsknight had neither the time or the energy to bother with. Besides, it was all words Wels knew. Wels pretended to be a chivalric knight. Chivalric knights helped the weak. Chivalric knights saved the defenseless. Helsknight, for all the grievances of his existence, was both right now. Then again, the chivalric knights were also supposed to make war against their enemies mercilessly, so he supposed Wels would be in his rights, as a chivalric knight, to walk away and let him die slowly and painfully on the ground.

As if sensing his thoughts, and likely because he could actually sense his thoughts a bit, Wels said, "You are always going on about how I need to be a better knight. There's something ironic here. No matter what I decide, I think you'll owe me an apology regardless."

The feeling of doom, of bone-deep, agonizing dying mantled over Helsknight again and Wels stopped existing to him. His sense of urgency, of desperation to live clawed its way up his throat. He tried to move his arm, his leg. He got his fingers to twitch. He tried to lean forward, to drag himself with willpower alone towards that stupid potion just out of reach. The potion he wasn't even strong enough to open. His vision collapsed in quickly, and he only knew he'd cried out because he was breathless. But he hadn't moved, besides managing to lull his head forward onto his chest again. Cold fear crawled around in his empty guts, a relentless, caged animal that refused to stop squirming.

[I'm dying.]

[Breathe.]

[I'm dying.]

A shadow fell over him, a presence freighted with hate, and deserving, and dissonant guilt. Wels had come forward, only to stop short when Helsknight's terror swept over him like a wave, and he stood baffled by it, and guilty for it. The fool knight probably thought Helsknight was scared of him. If only. Helsknight thought he would prefer that. At least then he could manage to die gracefully. Wels's fortitude bricked itself up against him then, a bitter soul trying to will itself to be cold and cruel, and Helsknight was thankful for it. It staved off his fear, if only a little.

"What did you do to bring this on, anyway?" Wels asked breathlessly, trying to recover his resolve. Looking for a reason to hate him.

"I was... walking home."

"That's it?" He sounded so skeptical, it was almost funny.

"I committed the terrible sin..." Helsknight laughed out a breath, "... of being fearless when I should have been cautious."

"Hubris."

"Habit."

"Yeah right."

"If I got stabbed like this every day, I wouldn't have come crawling here."

Wels glowered, parsing this statement for truth. Helsknight might have mustered some hate in him for it, if he wasn't so scared. His vision had taken on a permanent blur, and he was getting cold. He hadn't gone numb yet, which was something he found profoundly cruel. He wanted to be numb. To stop hurting. To stop fearing.

[Breathe.]

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

Tak doun o rode my derworth child,

Or prik me o rode with my derling!

[Derworth... "Dearworth", probably. Beloved. So "derling" was probably "dearling", which turned into "darling". Middle English was strange. Just slightly to the left of normal. He didn't think "tak" was a word anymore, except where it existed as pieces of words. "Tak" to "take", to take hold, maintain, maybe. "Tak" to "tack" like a nail. "Prik" also, like "pricking" flesh, like a point digging.]

"Hold down the road, my dearworth child," Helsknight muttered. "Or pick me a road with my darling."

"What?"

"Stupid poem."

"How much blood have you lost?"

Helsknight laughed, and his whole body flinched, and for a moment he couldn't breathe because his pain was so alive and electric it almost stopped being pain. The concern from Wels was laughable. He wished Wels would make up his mind about whether or not he cared. Then he could get on with dying, and the terror would stop, and the universe would take him or it wouldn't, and if it didn't, he would respawn and sleep for a week. He felt Wels's hand on his wrist, which was its own kind of hilarious.

"Trying to figure out how many heartbeats I have left?" Helsknight asked.

It would be nice to know. If Wels figured it out, he hoped he would share the information. Then Helsknight could keep count.

"Your heart's too fast."

"That happens."

Wels stood up and paced, all nervous energy, back and forth across the room.

"You don't deserve my help," Wels told him scathingly, angry for how conflicted he felt. "You don't. You've been nothing but cruel ever since we met."

More pine ne may me ben y-don

Than lete me live in sorwe and shame;

["Pine", like pining. Or pain. More pain? Punishment maybe. "Don" to done. Something like: More pain to me could not be done than to let me live in sorrow and shame.]

Helsknight decided whoever wrote this poem had never been stabbed. He'd felt both sorrow and shame, and neither of them packed quite this amount of punch, in his opinion.

"It probably goes against my tenets anyway," Wels continued, still pacing. "And yours too. Aren't you the one who follows some crazy death god?"

"... Saint... of Blood and Steel."

"He probably thinks dying in a puddle on my floor is glorious."

"... they."

As love me bindëth to my sone,

So let us deyen bothe y-same.

[Maybe he was just getting better at this, or maybe this part was just easy. "As love I'm bound to my son, so let us die, both the same." It didn't flow very neatly when it was simpler. Maybe Middle English wasn't that stupid.]

"I can't help but think you did this on purpose to... I don't know. Test me somehow. Prove you're better. Weak again, Welsknight! For helping your enemy when you should have let him die, or speed him along. Don't you know knights are supposed to be cruel?"

Helsknight tried to call up his own tenets, or Wels's tenets, or anything to do with knights and their duties. He got a little lost on his way, his thoughts meandering and dying, and gasping back to life again when they remembered they were supposed to be searching for something. Something he was scared of. Dying. A wave of fear crashing over him that made Wels flinch, and bid Helsknight keep breathing, because any agony was worth not confronting that one, great, crippling unknown.

"What would you do in my place?" Wels asked him suddenly. "Answer me that, perfect knight. What would you do if the person you hated most showed up one day bleeding on your floor?"

That... was an excellent question. Helsknight searched briefly for the answer, and found it wasn't very hard to find.

"I would help."

"You're lying," Wels said guardedly.

"I... can't lie."

"Then you're dodging the truth. What would you do?"

"I would heal you if I could. Or I would kill you if I couldn't." With strength he didn't know he even still had, Helsknight leaned his head back against the wall. It was easier to breathe that way. To talk.

"Why?"

"No creature is deserving of dishonor or pain."

"That's not a tenet."

"It's not a chivalric tenet." Helsknight shrugged one shoulder weakly. "Chivalry states you can hang my guts from the ceiling if I'm your enemy."

"It does not."

"It might as well."

Wels didn't seem to have a ready reply for that.

"What is routhe?"

Wels blinked down at him, guarded and confused. "Routhe?"

"Routhe." Helsknight repeated, as though it were helpful. "Middle English."

"As in?"

"Poetry."

"Use it in a sentence."

"Why have ye no routhe on my child?"

"Ruth." Wels said, a bit too quickly, like he'd known what Helsknight was asking and was trying to avoid the answer. "We don't use it as ruth anymore. It shows up in rue, like regret, or sorrow. And... ruthless."

"Merciless."

"Yes."

Why have you no mercy on my child?

"Why are you asking about Middle English while you're bleeding to death on my floor?"

Helsknight let out a breath. It hurt, but everything did. "Stupid poem."

"Can I hear it?"

"I'm busy bleeding to death on your floor."

"Tell me and I'll heal you."

There it was again, asking for an excuse. That was Wels's real cowardice, his failing as a knight. He was scared of making decisions. Scared of dealing with the consequences of his actions. Paralyzed by indecision. He wanted to hate Helsknight because it was justified. He wanted to watch him suffer, because hatred allows suffering. He didn't want to label himself cruel, nor be accused of weakness, or softheartedness, if he showed mercy. And he didn't want to pick up his sword and kill, if it meant killing someone defenseless. He wanted Helsknight to give him a reason to act, so he could blame it on him later if it turned out wrong. Given it would likely be Helsknight rubbing his nose in it later if it was wrong, he couldn't really blame him for that.

Helsknight closed his eyes and counted his heartbeats, and pretended he wasn't scared.

"Do what you will."

An hour long minute ticked by. Helsknight felt the time moving like it was physical, like he was falling through it and he couldn't catch himself, and he was nearing his limits. He thought the only thing stopping him from begging for it all to stop was the crushing weight of his fatigue, the exponential strength it took to take his next breath, and that stupid poem, skipping in a circle in his head. It kept his thoughts away from his fear, from bearing the weight of the unknown that came next. It was still there, a nameless, formless anxiety that formed the undercurrent of his thoughts. But he didn't have to think about it when he was busy being annoyed about a poem stuck in his head.

Wels moved. He stooped to pick up the potion Helsknight had dropped and unstoppered it deftly. He was surprisingly gentle as he helped him drink, aware that every movement could cause pain. Helsknight could feel Wels's caution in the air like wings, like a bird hovering before it lands. The first potion wasn't enough to heal him completely, so he got a second from his chests and helped him with that as well, one hand hovering over Helsknight's wounds, waiting on the skin to knit back together. Helsknight got to his feet, shaky, and feeling like he'd been wrung dry of all vitality. There was no pain to speak of, but he was thirsty, and hungry, and exhausted.

"You should rest before you go anywhere," Wels said, words of pragmatic care that sounded stilted coming from him. "I can get you some water."

"I'll be fine," Helsknight told him, allowing himself some hesitant pride now that the smothering pain was gone. Even exhausted, he could think so much more clearly now -- think at all, really. And he thought the longer he stayed here, the higher the chance Wels would come to regret his decision to heal him. They were not made to like each other. They didn't even respect each other as enemies. And Helsknight knew if they fought now, he would lose, and he might lose very badly, if Wels decided to leave him to bleed out again. It was something Wels had never done before, but if he could convince himself Helsknight deserved it, he would.

"Do what you will, then," Wels said, bitterness creeping into his tone. He probably thought he was being coy and ironic. Helsknight mostly thought it was annoying.

"The poem isn't mine," Helsknight said. "It's one you've read before. Middle English. Why have ye no routhe on my child. I don't know the title. It might just be the first line. I think it's a lament."

"... I see."

"Next time you find yourself bleeding out on someone's floor," Helsknight snorted, "Pick something stupid like that. It makes things... manageable."

"Right... manageable."

Helsknight gave a helpless sort of shrug, as though what he'd just said were perfectly normal.

Wels mustered an enviable facsimile of concern when he said, "I've never felt terror like that before."

Helsknight felt his already parched mouth somehow go drier. The sympathy he felt rolling off of Welsknight was sickening. Literally. He could feel himself becoming nauseous.

"What are you so scared of?"

Shame, red hot and searing, clawed at the inside of Helsknight's ribs. He wished so badly he could hide it. Distract himself from it. At least turn it into anger. But he was tired, and he didn't know how to bring his emotions back to heel, and Welsknight was already giving him an open, piteous look like maybe they'd stumbled onto something significant. He could feel hope there, like maybe there was a reason they hated each other like they did, and if Wels could figure out where that fear came from, they could find common ground -- or at least the leverage Wels needed to make Helsknight relent.

"I don't need your pity, white knight," Helsknight snarled. "Go sate your savior complex somewhere else."

Wels scowled. A cold wall of loathing, resigned and inevitable, closed itself around anything else he could possibly feel.

[As it should be.]

Hours later, home and safe, Helsknight cracked open his journal and wrote:

Why have you no mercy on my child?

Have mercy on me, so full of mourning;

Take down the road my dearworth child,

O give me a road with my darling!

More pain to me could not be done

Than to let me live in sorrow and shame

As with love I am bound to my son,

So let us die then, both the same.

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