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#their LOSING streak specifically
ronanlynchbf · 7 months
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saying "this is unbearable" abt things yet still continuing to bear them. give it up for the human spirit everyone 🙏👆👍💪💪💪❗❗❗
#guy who has given up 999999999 times but has then kept going 1000000000000 times despite it..#this is abt aforementioned work situations and also new awful work situation. this time i got yelled at by a customer bc i wouldn't leave#when i opened the glass case for them which is like. a showcase with these glass doors that only employees can open with specific keys in#which the more expensive bags & jewelry & watches etc reside and if a customer asks if we can open it so they can view or try on a thing#inside we have to stay by them until they're done looking or trying on and have decided they're gonna take it (or not) because we have had#things stolen so many times here u wouldn't believe. so we're told to stay thus i had to stay till she was finished and she didn't rlly lik#that one i guess.. anyway while i do not give a shit what a random woman thinks of me i am very bad with getting yelled at so. fun times.#still red in the face as i'm typing this. it's fine though i didn't cry 👍 a near thing though but that's also fine i'm gonna go to the#staff toilets and sneak my trusty wired earphones in with me and listen to whale song until i've calmed down#can't wait to get home and eat and shower and get in my sweatpants and drink a beer or possibly some wine and watch attorney woo and then#later this evening play a game on the ps5 with my siblings and eat late-night snacks and drink another beer or possibly some more wine and#forget all about the start of this day <33333 and scroll through tumblr somewhere in between there and also do my duolingo lest i lose my#stupid streak. peace n love on planet earth once i get home <3333#r.txt
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tkachunk · 1 year
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What made you say brady was charismatic?
so what inspired that specific post was sens call out video on the tsn youtube channel, where brady comes across as very comfortable talking on camera and almost like he's inviting you on an inside joke about his teammates. however, that definitely isn't the only time he comes across that way:
Brady being friendly with literally every other single person in this 2022 nhl media day video
A little part of it is how charmed by brady mark stone is. I don't have the link handy, but I think that when he was asked this season who he's excited to watch this season he said brady and matthew, because he's brady's brother. There are a lot of ways that hosting a 19 year old rookie in your house can be super annoying, but it seems like brady left a great impression on mark, who always goes out for supper with brady whenever they play each other.
I don't know if it necessarily fits into the definition of charismatic, but I've found that brady always kind of goes the extra step to connect with sens fans at games, to thank them for their support.
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skelayton-lord · 2 months
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Idk what it is with me when it comes to multiplayer games that I always get anxious when it's looking for a match, especially if it's the first time playing after a long while without doing so, but once I get in and I get through the match it's fine and then I'm queuing up again like nbd.
Fast forward and I'm chilling, I'm chilling no pressure, it's all good and then I spot someone doing advanced tech and then IT'S ON SIGHT, IT'S ON SIGHT, FIGHT ME, SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT AHAHAHAAH YESSSS AHAHAHA YEESSS
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thefearandnow · 5 months
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NaNoWriMo word count: 11/5/23
3,719
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lokh · 1 year
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people who have bought cosplays! what price is reasonable
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effteeeye · 1 year
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I hate how need the threat of failure or lost chance constantly looming over me to do anything
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freedomfireflies · 20 days
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Overdrive*
Summary: The one where it's 1969 and Harry likes to drive really, really fast.
Word Count: 5.5k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, exhibitionism, very brief daddy kink
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Five.
The sound of revving engines echoes between the tall, city buildings. Loud enough to startle a nearby flock of birds on a telephone wire as they take off into the dark night to escape the lurid noise. 
Four.
The smell of burning rubber is everywhere. Tires screech against the pavement as the smoke dissipates into the warm summer air and the drivers prepare for that familiar white flag.
Three.
There’s a murmur amongst the crowd. The bets have been placed and the anticipation has set in. They pick their favorite driver, and they hope that somehow, they’ll be able to beat the unbeatable. 
Him.
Two.
You can see your little speed demon just up ahead as he waits patiently in front of the makeshift starting line. He seems relaxed. Confident. One hand is settled on the steering while the other is flipping the bird to the driver beside him. 
One.
The flag waves and the drivers take off. A streak of color flashes across the street as each of the five cars attempt to take their place ahead of the rest. But nobody can seem to get an edge on the black Lamborghini Miura already skidding around the first curve, effortlessly leaving them all behind.
You grin. It’s harder to see the cars now that they’re on the other side of the buildings, but you can hear them. You can hear his engine, specifically. You’d know the sound anywhere. After all, he spent weeks introducing you to the ins and outs of his favorite toy. Showing you exactly how to care for it, with those rough, practiced hands that also happen to care for you, too. 
You catch a glimpse of his vehicle just before it disappears past the drugstore. He shifts gears and accelerates, just before the blue Stingray to his right can gain on him. You hold your breath as both cars drift around the corner onto the next road and the crowd begins to cheer. 
Harry hasn’t lost a race in weeks. You don’t imagine he could lose if he tried. In fact, he could be blindfolded with no brake pedal and a faulty transmission and somehow, he’d still be miles ahead of the competition. 
It’s one of the things you love most about him. The way his eyes light up when he gets behind the wheel. The way the engine purrs in his hands and the way he can bend the road to his will. 
The Stingray veers to the right in order to get ahead of him, but Harry seems to anticipate this attempt. He cuts the other driver off just before he can speed up and your heart jumps into your throat. The only thing you don’t like about his racing is how careless he can be at times.
If you’re in the car, he takes the utmost care to make sure you’re safe. That you’re never put in harm’s way.
But when he’s alone, he’s in a whole other world of his making. He doesn’t consider the consequences or the repercussions. He doesn’t consider you. The way you’d feel if you lost him. 
And you trust his instincts, you do. But you can’t always say you enjoy the show. 
The Stingray slams on his brakes as Harry takes off and slides around the second to last corner. Tire marks are painted across the cement in his wake and the crowd cheers. 
Your stomach twists. He seems to be doing all right, although one of his fatal flaws is that it’s nearly imposable to tell how he’s feeling. He’s eerily stoic when he’s under pressure and perhaps that’s a good thing. 
But that doesn’t exactly help you now as he zigs and zags across the road before finally reaching the last turn that leads into the final stretch.
This is it. You hold your breath as you watch from the edge of the sidewalk, hands twisting in front of your chest as he races across the last few hundred feet. It’ll be close—the Stingray is gaining on him with each passing second—but Harry’s undeterred. He switches into a lower gear and the engine comes alive. Giving the car torque for those last few inches as he flies across the finish line. And the race is over.
The rest of the cars follow shortly after and the growing crowd of onlookers all swarm the street. They cheer and they holler, and they flock to the handsome driver now stepping out of his vehicle, desperate to congratulate him. But those soft green eyes only search for you. 
When he finally finds you squished between the horde of admirers, he grins, and begins to push his way through to you.
The moment you meet, he picks you up, hugs you to his chest, and spins you around. And you squeal giddily, happy to be back in his embrace as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.
“My little lucky clover,” he whispers proudly. “What did I tell you, hm?”
The nickname makes your insides grow warm. He’s called you his lucky clover ever since that first race when the two of you met. He claimed he only won because he saw you standing there watching and was desperate to impress you. And that every race he’s won since has been because of you and your charming presence. 
You aren’t so sure you believe him, but you have to admit it sounds pretty on his tongue.
You laugh as he puts you back down. “I know, I know,” you finally concede. “You were right.”
“Mhm.” He smirks—cocky—before he’s surging forward to kiss you. Soft and slow and with a desire that almost feels scandalous for such a public place. “I always am.”
His tongue brushes against yours while his hand splays across your lower back to tug your body to his and the crowd cheers as you giggle. But you don’t fight the way he loves you. Instead, you cling to his shirt and allow him to take what he wants.
When he finally allows you a moment to breathe, you gaze at him curiously. “How fast were you going?”
“120 on the main stretch. 80 on the curves,” he says, then chuckles at the way you frown. “M’fine, Clover. I promise.”
“You agreed nothing over 100,” you remind him.
“Yeah, but I needed to win.”
“No, you don’t need to win. You need to stay alive.”
“Well, why can’t I do both?”
Unamused, you huff, and lightly slap at his stomach. “Not funny, H.”
However, he merely laughs aagain and pulls you back between his arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says softly. “You know I’d never die on you. I’d miss you too much.”
“Let’s hope so.” You push up onto your toes to bring your lips to his once more. “Cause if you die on me…I’ll kill you.”
His smile is smug as he kisses you hard before he leads you back to his car. The large mass follows, anxious to ask him questions or offer their praise. And he listens to dutifully, perching himself on his hood while pulling you between his legs. 
It’s the same after every race. The other drivers try to tease him while his growing group of fans are desperate to be noticed by him. He might not be inherently famous, but he is to this crowd. They love a lot of things about him. His skill, his confidence, his looks. 
And you can’t exactly blame them.
It’s impossible to tell if you want to be him or be with him. You imagine for most people, it’s both. He has a sort of relaxed assurance that seems to make everyone else around him comfortable. And there’s a mystery about him. An intrigue to know more about the man behind the wheel. About who he is outside of these races. What he’s really like. 
He slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into his chest. He talks to the driver of the Stingray and they exchange comments about the almost collision that makes your stomach turn. But when he notices, he presses a quick kiss to your temple and changes the subject. 
However, the rowdy celebration is cut rather short by the sound of sirens as two police cars come slinging around the side of a building with their lights flashing and their microphones on.
Everybody scatters, a collection of wild cheers and hollering voices as the officers step out of their vehicles in order to round up the crowd and instruct everyone to return home.
But Harry is unfazed as he pats your hip and nods his chin up. He’s rather good at his getaway now. After all, you imagine he’d have to be with all the times the police have broken up these races. 
And he’s only been caught once.
You slip inside just as he starts the engine. The radio comes alive, the sound of Jimi Hendrix enough to rival the roar of the motor as places one hand on the back of your seat in order to look behind him before he speeds away from the scene, hangs a sharp left, and takes off down the adjoining road. 
The sound of sirens follow. There’s a cop car on the next street over, attempting to chase after him as Harry weaves in and out between the scarce traffic. He’s good—incredibly good—but they haven’t given up yet. 
They cross over and skid behind him. They’re getting closer and the red and blue lights are bright in the rearview mirror. Still, Harry is calm. Simply shifting gears with ease as the car accelerates and offers a bit more distance before he takes a last-minute right in order to shake them.
The force of the turn slings you against the side of the door and you huff as Harry shoots you a cheeky grin.
“Sorry, baby,” he calls over the music. “You all right?”
With a grimace, you nod and say, “Mhm. Just great.”
He winks before he’s blowing through one red light and then another. Somehow missing the few cars currently crossing the street while the police are forced to slam on their brakes as somebody passes. And once they lose sight of him, he veers into an old, abandoned alley to hide.
Seconds pass before they finally fly by. Oblivious to his plan as they head further into town while Harry takes another right and disappears from the city.
He cheers victoriously and rolls down the windows and you laugh as you gaze at him. Entranced by the way he nods his head to the music as a gentle, summer breeze blows through his curls. 
Freedom tastes better with him. Life is better with him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing, while he sings along to Jimi Hendrix and grins at the open stretch of road ahead of him.
You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and he seems to bask in your admiration before he finally looks over.
“What do you say, Clover?” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Wanna see what a hundred feels like?”
A bit hesitant, yet wildly curious, you nod. 
He reaches for your hand in order to help you across the car, and you crawl over the console until you can settle onto his lap. Once you’re snug over his thighs, his arms slip beside your middle to keep you safe while he holds onto the steering wheel, and you scoot back into his chest for support. 
And it feels good. Comfortable. Even though the car is going faster and faster with each passing second, you feel protected. You know he’d never let anything happen to you. And there’s hardly any danger out here, along the old, backroads away from the city and traffic.  
The needle on the dash rises higher and higher. 70…80…90. Harry’s grinning against your cheek as the wind dances across your skin. The moon is bright in the sky, illuminating the road even without headlights and it’s exhilarating. Limitless.
“How’s that, hm?” he whispers. He kisses your jaw before dropping his foot against the gas. “You sure you’re ready, sweetheart?”
You nod quickly and brace yourself in his hold. “Mhm.”
The car reaches 100 and it feels like flying. You laugh, giddy, and he grins. The straight stretch of empty street might as well be a runway and the faster you go, the lighter you feel. As though the tires will simply lift off the ground and carry you into the sky. 
He shifts gears and the car jolts forward as the needle jumps to 110. You gasp and squirm excitedly over his lap before he suddenly groans. The sound is low and strained and you recognize the lustful cadence almost immediately.
Amused, you bite the inside of your cheek. “You okay, H?”
He takes one hand from the wheel and places it on your thigh. Squeezing it once. Pointedly. “Don’t stop.”
You don’t. You squirm again, settling into the feel of the hardening bulge beneath your ass and he makes another noise that goes straight to your cunt.
Your lashes flutter. The world blurs and your heart races. Perhaps you shouldn’t be doing this while you’re going so fast but Harry is calm. He trusts himself and you trust him.
The needle rises.
“Harry,” you whisper and his knuckles go white against the steering wheel. “Harry, please—”
“What?” His mouth rests against your cheek and you whine. “What, Clover? What do you need?”
He wants to make you say it. Wants to hear the words on your tongue and you swallow thickly as you intertwine your fingers with his. “H…”
“What, baby girl?” He nips at your skin with his teeth. “M’I making you nervous?”
You nod and he chuckles. A dark, sadistic sound.
“Do you want me to stop?”
There’s a quiet moment of hesitation before you eventually shake your head. Of course you don’t. How could you?
“No?” He squeezes your leg, touch slowly slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt. “Good girl.”
The car begins to go faster. 115…118…120. The same speed he reached during the race and even if you knew it was fast, this feels infinitely faster.  
You gasp and clutch his hand. Terrified and enthralled all in the same moment. And even if you shouldn’t be, you feel insanely aroused. Legs squeezing together as he subtly bucks up into you.
The music is loud and the wind is loud and the sound of your heart pulsing in your ears is loud. 
And then…the needle drops. The car slows. The speedometer goes from 120 to 50 in only a few seconds, and you blink curiously before glancing back at him.
He says nothing. His expression is firm but stoic and it’s not until he pulls off the road and into the dirt that you understand.
He turns the car off, then pats your hip. “Get out.”
You swallow again and swing the door open. Crawling off his lap before obediently trailing your way to the front of the vehicle while he follows.
“Bend over.”
You do. The hood is warm but not hot and it’s almost inviting as you place your hands against the covering to brace yourself in wait.
“Let me see.”
Your breath catches as you move your fingers to the delicate panties beneath your skirt. You pull them down your quivering thighs and the summer air makes you shiver. You feel nervous under his gaze. Under the way he owns you. But it’s thrilling. Addictive. And it leaves no room for questioning as you drop your underwear to your ankles in the middle of the open desert. 
You hear him step closer. Feel his hand on your hip as he pulls the fabric of your outfit up in order to get a proper look. But he’s quiet. Almost too quiet, and you feel a touch warm as you wait for his remark.
“Have you been this wet all night, Clover?” he finally asks.
You nod once. “…yes.”
“Mm.” Another pause while his other hand begins to trail up the back of your leg, slowly pulling it open. “And when were you planning to tell me?”
“I…I figured you already knew.”
He hums and you can only imagine his smirk. “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you were waiting for, then? For me to do something about it?”
“…yes.”
The tip of his finger drags its way through your folds and the sudden sensation makes you whimper.
“Then why didn’t you ask, sweetheart?” His tone is soft but condescending and you make another noise as you attempt to glance back at him. “Uh-uh. Eyes down, Clove.”
With a huff, you drop your chin to your chest and anxiously wait for more.
“Why didn’t you ask?” he repeats. “Thought I taught you better than that.”
 When your only answer is a needy mewl, he lands his palm against your ass in a sharp smack.
“Speak,” he murmurs. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to use your words and answer me. Is that understood?”
“Yes…yes, I’m sorry.”
“So why didn’t you ask?”
“Was…nervous,” you admit, glancing off into the dark night to hide the shame in your expression. “Didn’t want to bother you.”
He steps closer and his touch becomes gentler. “You were nervous, baby girl?”
“Mm. Knew you were busy and…and didn’t wanna be greedy.”
“Oh, my sweet girl,” he exhales before he’s grabbing onto the cheeks of your ass to pull you open. Allowing him an even better view of the way you drip. “Can always be greedy with me, you know that? Don’t have to be nervous. All I wanna do is take care of you. My time is yours.”
You release a stuttered breath before your eyes fall shut. You love the way he touches you. The way he cares for you. The way he humiliates you, even out here where nobody can see. 
“Look at you,” he whispers and you feel yourself clench around nothing. “Look at how pretty your little hole is when it’s so empty.”
The pad of his thumb brushes through your folds and he ignores the way you gasp his name.
“Think I should fix that?” he asks. “Think I should fill you up? Make it better?”
“Yes,” you pant. “Yes, please—”
“D’you need me to stretch you open? Hm? Play with your little cunny till you’re coming all over my cock?”
The dirty words inside his gentle voice feel criminal. Your mind turns to mush and you can do nothing more than press your chest into the hood as you excitedly wiggle our ass further into his hand.
He laughs, amused by your desperation in a way that only pushes you further toward the endless edge. “Is that a yes, Clover?”
You nod quickly. Your cheek rubbing against the car until you finally—finally—hear the sound of his belt flicking undone. 
The metal clink is music to your ears and you release a deep moan at the thought of the leather against your skin. Of his cock as it brushes against your clit, mindlessly teasing you past the point of no return.
“Easy,” he says. “Give me your hands, sweetheart.”
Slowly, you pull your arms behind you until he captures them in his hand. He wraps the length of the belt around your wrists until he can securely bind them to the small of your back, and once your mobility is gone, you simper.
“There you go,” he coos. “You okay, honey?”
Another nod. “Yes.”
“Gonna tell me if it’s too much, yeah? If I hurt you?”
“Yes…”
“Know it’s a tight fit, baby, but m’gonna make it work. Promise.”
And this vow makes your heart thumb against the inside of your chest before you feel him disappear from behind you.
And then…his tongue.
He’s dropped into a crouch in order to taste you, fingers locked around your wrists to keep you still while his lips suck on your pussy. 
“H,” you inhale, already undone by his technique. “I…”
He says nothing but the noise of wet licking echoes between your ears. His other hand pushes your leg away, creating more room for his head as he mouths at you. He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue and you steel yourself against the hood, almost as though to get away.
“Careful,” he warns again. He smacks your thigh. “M’having so much fun. Don’t ruin it.”
And you try to be good. Try to stay still so he can do with you as he pleases. But it becomes increasingly harder when he nips at your cunt like he means to feast on you. 
Your fingers wiggle about the air, desperate to grab him. To clutch onto his curls or yank on his arm. But he keeps you restrained, keeps you compliant. And you are nothing but a toy for him to play with now.
You hear the sounds of the world around you. The crickets, the owls, the flock of birds flying overhead. You’re reminded yet again that anybody could drive by, even out here in the middle of nowhere. They could find you, bent over the hood of a Lamborghini as you get tongue fucked by the handsome man on his knees.
And yet…you don’t care. In fact, you almost hope somebody does pass. Because you know Harry wouldn’t stop even if they did. He’d keep going until you were unraveling in his hands as you whimpered his name.
As if to prove this, he adds a finger in beside his devious lips. “Gotta make sure you can take me,” he says in a low grunt. “S’too tight in here, Clove. Don’t think I’ll fit.”
You whine louder and angle your ass closer. Desperate to get his finger in as far as it’ll go. “I’ll take it,” you promise. “I will. Always do.”
“Always do,” he repeats in a soft chuckle. “That’s right, you do. Treat my cock right, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Nearly purring, you allow the subtle thrust of his hand to drag you closer to that blinding pleasure. 
“Do anything I ask. Even have my babies, wouldn’t you?”
The thought nearly does you in. Your tummy all swollen and full of him. Tits leaking milk that he’d eagerly lap up. The way he’d still treat your body like a temple. A prize to behold. Because you were carrying what he gave you. He fucked you so hard and so deep that you became a vessel for him. 
And even past that, you’ve always wanted to be a mother. Always wanted to start a family with him because you know he’d be a wonderful father. He’d take them to races and hold them on his shoulders so they could watch. He’d kiss all over their little cheeks and tuck them into bed. And your kids would know nothing but love. Because they’d look up to the two of you.
It makes you smile.
“What do you say, hm?” he whispers between kitten licks to your pussy. “You wanna have my babies? Wanna make me a daddy?”
He adds a second finger and begins to scissor them almost immediately until you cry out. Loud enough to startle a bird from a nearby branch and this proves to be answer enough for him.
“Okay,” he decides. “Okay, I’ll fuck your little pussy and get it all nice and full. Give you all I’ve got. And you’ll take it, won’t you? Hold it in your little belly like a good mama.”
You cum. Suddenly and without warning as the intensity of the orgasm explodes behind your eyelids like stars in the sky. You cum and you don’t get a chance to warn him or prepare or even hold off as you feel yourself drip down his hand. 
“God, H,” you moan. You sound pitiful. Voice hoarse from the way you’ve been wailing and arms sore from the way he keeps them behind you. Still, you don’t mind. The pain is pleasure in and of itself. “I…m’so…”
“Yeah.” He stands up and tugs his pants down. “I know, baby. I am, too.”
The tip of his cock drags through your soaked and sensitive pussy before he pushes in. He’s right, it is a tight fit. Even with the way you attempt to relax your muscles and draw him in. But it’s always snug with him and truth be told, you almost prefer it this way.
“There you go,” he breathes, dipping down to kiss your shoulder before drawing back his hips. “Just like that. Fucking hell, Clove, I wish you could see. Wish you could fucking see the way you look taking me right now.”
You wish you could, too. As it is, the feeling is enough to make your eyes roll back and send sparks of electricity up the length of your spine.
He keeps your wrists in his hand as he fucks into you. Sharp thrusts that sound sloppy and uncoordinated but feel like heaven. And there’s an urgency here. A desolate need to feel you unravel. He cares for you and he uses you all with the same technique. 
He grabs your leg and forces it up onto the hood. Giving him more room and a deeper angle just to hear you moan. And you hate that you can’t see him. Because you know how pretty he looks when he’s in control. His adrenaline high and his eyes alive with the possibilities of what he could do to you.
Instead, you choose to imagine. The way a few rogue curls must be sweeping across his forehead, unable to stay constrained beneath the sticky gel he likes to put in his hair. His chest is probably heaving, offering peeks of his tattoos beneath the white shirt clinging to his sweaty torso. His thighs will be flexing with each thrust. The muscles rippling in such a way that would surely make you drool. 
You understand why every woman you pass on the street tends to fawn over him. You know they’d do anything to take him home. Cook for him, clean for him, be good for him. Anything to earn his affection.
But you also know, his affection belongs to you. You’ve seen it, time and time again. He doesn’t even glance their way. He doesn’t notice when they giggle over him or when they try to call to him with their eyes. 
Because his eyes are always on you.
“You’re beautiful,” you hear him whisper. It’s soft—restrained. Almost as though he doesn’t mean for you to hear it. But you do and you nearly sink into the car in bliss. “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”
A fervent heat rushes through your body from his praise and subsequently has you clenching around him. The feeling makes him groan and you’re proud of the way you can still care for him. Even if you can’t see him. Even if he’s the one with all the power.
“This sweet little pussy takes such good care of me,” he says and reaches around your tummy in order to press his palm against the subtle bulge there. “Every…fucking…time.”
You careen forward, cheek squished into the hood, skin dewy from the way your body shakes with pleasure. It’s always this close and somehow, he keeps you there. As though reminding you not to cum until he says so.
The hand on your stomach moves down until his fingers find your sensitive clit. He rubs and he plucks and he plays with your body with the same precision and skill he uses when he drives. Because no matter how much he loves to race, he loves you more. And winning you will always be infinitely better than winning some goddamn race.
“What do you say, hm?” he mumbles from behind you, rubbing the swollen nerves while pistoning his hips to yours. Dragging you closer and closer and closer. “You gonna cum for me? Gonna let me feel it?”
You nod and when you start to waver over that edge, he chuckles.
“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, baby, cum.”
You do. Again. Harder this time. Louder. It’s almost cruel how easily your body breaks beneath him but before you can indulge in the feel of the way he follows…he’s pulling out. 
He guides you away from the hood and turns you both around. He sits in the spot you once were and he lets you see him. Because this is what you needed. The intimacy, the eye-contact. The beautiful look on his face.
He guides you closer with his hold on your bound wrists before pulling you onto his lap as best he can. He helps you place one leg back on the hood while his other hand moves to guide his cock between your overstimulated folds. Then, he brushes his swollen tip through, just to tease himself, before he’s pushing in.
And you can see him now. Can see the fucked-out expression on his face. The way his vision becomes hazy and his teeth grit together in ecstasy. 
You whimper, whine, cry out. You want to hold him. Want to wrap your arms around his neck and curl yourself into his beautiful, broad chest. 
But you can’t this time. In fact, he uses his grip on the belt to help roll you over his cock. A soft smile on his face as he whispers, “Just one more, sweetheart. Give me one more.”
He’s insatiable and greedy and you love it. Because you’d fuck yourself on his cock for the rest of time if you could. Even out here in the open.
“Wanna watch,” he whispers, then slips his other hand around the back of your neck to bring you down for a kiss. “Wanna watch the way I fill you all full of my babies.”
You make a rather pitiful noise against his mouth and he smirks. 
“You want that, too, don’t you, Clove?”
You nod, although you imagine it should be obvious. You’d do anything for him. 
“This little pussy was made to have my babies, wasn’t it?” he says and kisses the corner of your lips before moving down your neck. “Just made to be fucked by me. Perfect tummy to carry my kids. You’ll be so good, mama. Know you will.”
Your lashes flutter shut. The nickname breeds something new in your chest, a blossoming sort of urgency that almost makes it hard to breathe.
“Harry,” you plead. You nudge your nose against his temple. “Harry, please—”
“Shh.” His voice is soft. Still mischievous but kind. “I’ve got you. Yeah? M’right here. Just let me take care of you.”
And he does. He moves his hand from your neck to your shirt, slipping underneath until he can find your tits and give them a squeeze. 
“There you go,” he coos. “Oh, baby girl. Do anything for you, you know that? Just to keep you.”
He moves from your chest to your clit, and you know the second his fingers make contact, you’ll be gone. You squirm in anticipation, and he grins against your cheek before kissing you hard. Tongues and teeth colliding as he sucks on your lip and murmurs, “Can I cum in your pretty pussy, mama? Will you let me? Please?”
You nod so quick and so hard, your head aches. But it doesn’t matter because nothing else will ever compare to the feel of his hand on your body and his cock in your cunt. Releasing the warm, sticky offering that means infinitely more now than it did before.
He thrusts up into you a time or two, milking himself with your pussy before he drops back down and pulls you with him.
You’re both panting. Heavy, hard. Depleted of all energy as he holds you as close to his heart as he can.
Eventually, he frees you, tugging on the belt with one, easy pull as it comes loose from around your wrists. And the moment your arms are returned to you, you use them to grab onto his shoulders and bury yourself in his embrace.
He laughs. A delicate sound that makes you feel just as warm as his cock does. And you stay there for as long as you can until he finally nips at your earlobe and says, “Need to get you home, Clove. Don’t want you to get cold out here.”
“M’not cold,” you pout. “And we can’t leave until it works.”
“Until what works?”
You look down and he looks, too.
Then, he grins. A big, giddy grin that’s all teeth and dimples. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Can’t leave until you’re pregnant, huh?”
“Mhm.”
“I see.” He squeezes your hips and kisses your neck. “Gonna have to hold me in there, aren’t you? Keep me all snug?”
“Mhm.”
“All right, mama,” he says and you giggle. “We’ll stay until you’re all nice and pregnant. And then I’m gonna take you home and fuck you again. Just to make sure.”
Your stomach flips.
“S’that sound good, Clover?” he asks, and you bring your eyes to his in order to see him fully.
You smile.
“That sounds perfect, Daddy.”
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For a more immersive experience, feel free to play All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix during the chase hehe
Beautiful divider by @firefly-graphics 💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat
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nostappen · 21 days
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LET ME BE THE LIGHTER | MV #CH3
series summary. max raced knowing he’d win. You raced as if you had nothing else to lose. That was something the fans of F1 had grown accustomed to since you joined. Being the only driver who could truly make the Max Verstappen break a sweat during this season, all the odds seemed to be in your favor during one eventful race where you could finally overtake him on the last few laps, breaking his winning streak and also —by consequence — yours and his peace in the near future.
warnings for this chapter (contains possible spoilers) : swearing (as per usual), some texts are badly written on purpose (yes that’s a warning), angst, a small fight, max and reader suck at communicating, mentions of anxiety, grieving (and how to not deal with loss).
↻ links : prev . masterlist . next
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CHAPTER THREE # NOT A HAPPY COUPLE
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Max felt uncomfortable.
If there was a slight chance of him enjoying this night then the moment he stepped outside of the hotel that possibility left.
You were waiting by the end of the open stairs with the rest of your friends, laughing and joking, until Charles spotted him and silently pointed behind you right where he was, and you turned around to look at him.
Verstappen wasn’t big on reading people by any means. He sort of struggled to get to know others and interpret their mannerisms, but even he could notice that you weren’t happy to see him. Your once joyful and genuine smile twitched, making you slightly drop the corners of your mouth down in disappointment before forcing them back up faking happiness.
You extended your arms up, expecting a hug, and he obliged after spotting a few media people taking pictures on the street parallel to yours.
“Welcome, Verstappen,” you stated and he let go of you but not without planting a kiss on your cheek. “Ah yeah,” you muttered. “Lovey-dovey couple shit.”
“Hi guys,” Max attempted to smile but he could feel himself physically deflating like a balloon under their curious gazes.
Your friends weren’t looking down on him by any means. Max knew all of them after years of working on the same field, but it was obvious that he wasn’t exactly friends nor close with any member in that circle of people and although Max knew they had no intention of making him uncomfortable, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly out of place.
It was like being thrust into some high school setting. He did not belong anywhere and had this creeping sensation of not being welcomed by any group.
He was like a child again, a bit insecure, really nervous and utterly confused.
“Hey Verstappen, nice to see you here,” Charles extends his hand forward amicably and Max shakes it. “We have some waffles left if you want.”
The RedBull driver swallows the lump forming on his throat harshly.
Texting you was a terrible idea. Why did he even reach out in the first place? You were fine on your own and he was having a peaceful night scrolling down social media and having some movie playing in the background.
You two could coexist in parallel levels of the same reality and only really collide during practice and races. It’s not like this was a reality show and you were forced to be by each other’s side the twenty-four hours of the day. He could do his own thing and you could too, yet he wished for something else.
Truth be told, your last and first interaction in front of the cameras left a sour taste on his mouth.
On one hand he deeply desired to laugh at your clear shock over his surprise hug and the oddity of your first interaction with the public, but on the other hand, he felt incredibly bad and pretty confused over your attitude.
He understood he had crossed the line when he asked for a kiss. Even for him, at the time, it was something that came out naturally since couples do kiss and you specifically told him you wanted for the relationship to be perceived as sweet by others, but once he did mutter those words he regretted them.
‘Don’t I get a congratulatory kiss before leaving?’ Not only did he become self aware way too late but accidentally put you in one hell of a tough spot because of his slow-paced thinking.
If you blatantly rejected him, the world wouldn’t buy into your little PR stunt, and if you did comply, you’d give affection to a man you barely knew and clearly did not like one bit.
He was a complete asshole for that so he understood your initial reaction. He caught you off guard with the affection and attention and then pushed you into the limelight all alone so he apologized, but still, it kind of worried him how scared you actually looked through the flashlights of the cameras.
You were truly overwhelmed and Max wanted to properly discuss it with you to avoid committing future mistakes but after the race he couldn’t catch a break and your team was the first one to leave to the next location so he couldn’t reach you on time.
Of course he could discuss it through text but Max was someone who preferred talking face to face just in case. Not being sure over someone’s feelings and reactions towards certain things filled him with anxiety.
He needed to make sure everything was alright to put the matter to rest, so as soon as he saw you trending on twitter and caught a glimpse of you in the same hotel as him with your friends, he pressed you to be there.
The rest came in naturally. The PR team was desperate to solidify the idea of you two being a happy couple and this was the perfect opportunity.
Max went for it without a hint of doubt, but he was a stubborn man and could react quite impulsively. Tonight for example, he acted out of pure impulse and now that he was truly faced with reality he couldn’t help but regret his choices.
He should have waited until the morning to talk to you privately. Ambushing you while you were having a great time wasn’t the best nor the wisest decision.
“I’m not really hungry, but thanks.” Max brushes off Charles' food and observes you. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Man, you said you wanted waffles and vodka,” you nearly whine out and show him the little bottle you bought on the nearest market. “Why did I buy this then?”
“Please?” Max asks again and your expression turns serious. Your brows furrow and you wrap your hand around his wrist. “Somewhere private.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll be right back guys,” you announce and the men pick up their stuff and yours, moving forward.
“We can wait inside if that’s fine with you? It’s actually pretty cold and I’m tired of seeing media people taking pictures,” George expresses.
“We can wait in my room if you all want?” Charles offers looking at Hamilton and Russell and they both nod. “I will text you my room data, okay Yn?” He looks at you and you also nod, bringing Max towards you so your friends can pass. “See you in a few, honey.”
The three men climb up the steps that separate them from the main entrance of the hotel and once they are out of sight, you let go of Max, sitting on the stairs.
The man follows in your movement, dropping to the ground as well before fixing his gaze on the ground.
He looks deep in thought so you don’t dare to interrupt him.
If something important did happen then he’d come to his senses sooner or later and tell you about it. Especially if it’s bad enough to have him nearly begging for a minute of your attention.
In the meantime you debate whether to comfort him somehow or stay still next to him. There are cameras everywhere, maybe more than the ones you noticed on your way back to the hotel, and you don’t know if it will be correct to simply remain unbothered next to your supposed boyfriend or not.
You don’t want to use his struggle as a spectacle. Despite hating his guts, you aren’t heartless or unaware of the amount of shit Max gets on a daily basis.
He may be the number one of F1 but being this successful also came with its complications. You’ve seen the amount of hate fans throw him on all platforms of social media. The press follows him and his family movements everywhere they go as well and the man seems like he can’t catch a break between the races and his personal life being so exposed to the public.
It wouldn’t be fair to play the girlfriend part right now that he truly needs a second to process whatever he is going through, so you decide to let him be.
He isn’t your friend so you don’t feel inclined to exactly help him but you can’t ignore the fact that he looked utterly uncomfortable from the moment he greeted your friends briefly and discomfort was something you felt daily for a multitude of reasons so you wouldn’t wish it to anyone, even your supposed enemy on the F1.
“Hey man, whatever happened can wait, okay?” You rub his back to offer him some level of comfort. “We can go and take a walk if that helps you clear your mind off whatever is bothering you or we can go inside and join the group. Maybe a small hangout will help you.”
“Help me with what?” Max finally speaks. “They hate me as much as you.”
“They don’t —.”
“Hate me?” He cuts you off. “Well, if they don’t hate me then whatever they feel towards me is close to that.”
“They don’t know you that well, Max. That’s all.”
“But they do know you and I bet they despise me for what’s going on.” He admits too easily for his liking and you stop rubbing his back.
Verstappen sighs. As soon as your comforting touch leaves him, he feels the absence way too harshly and that disorients him.
It would be too much if he asked you for a hug or some comforting words knowing you didn’t like him, not even a little bit. After all, he just crashed your hangout with friends and also indirectly forced you to act like his girlfriend in front of the cameras once again, possibly reminding you that you were still under contract, therefore you should submit and be a good girlfriend for the rest of the people.
You were literally tied to him now.
He could bet that was far from awesome for you.
At first, he believed this PR stunt to be all a ploy from your team and you. This relationship could be a perfect excuse to cling to his fame and influence to boost your premature career, but after many meetings with RedBull about the topic he understood this wasn’t something neither you or Mercedes truly wanted. You simply had to bid by the rules of your contract as much as him but the difference between you and him was that you were new to this place and didn’t have resources to fight back, but if Max really did want, he could be up in arms, causing a scandal to stop all of this.
“Listen, I don’t control what my friends think of others. Whatever perception they have of you is probably based on whatever they know about you or how you treated them. They are adults, they won’t despise you without a reason.” Though you try to reason with him you can’t help but feel a bit annoyed over his comment. In your eyes, Max was not only acting weird but also paranoid.
If all of this was because he feared people from his workplace hated him then there was not a single thing you could do to help him.
That was his problem not yours. If he wanted to be liked so badly then he could start by treating the rest of the drivers as possible work colleagues, not villains, not only competitors and definitely not as people worth less than him, because that was something he tended to do without even realizing and you noticed it in a span of months so you couldn’t even imagine how bad it truly was years ago when he was younger and had an —apparent— bigger ego.
“Great, thanks for the useless advice.” He spits thoroughly annoyed by your change of demeanor and you raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“Do you always act like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like a scared kid and a petty man at the same time.”
Max cannot help but laugh sarcastically over your comment.
“You know what? I was actually gonna talk to you about how worried I was about you. Because, believe it or not, I do not suck as much and do not want to make you feel uncomfortable in front of the cameras or in general.”
“Thank you F1 Jesus,” you bite back. “You’ve blessed me with your cheap sympathy. What can I do to repay you?”
“Go to hell, Yn.”
“Gladly. I will ask your father for directions then,” you push yourself up with your palms and dust off your pajama pants. “If that’s it I will go inside.”
“No, that’s not it,” he expresses and gets up as well, grabbing you by the wrist and walking you upstairs to the glass doors. “I’m trying to have a decent conversation with you. Why is it so hard for you to simply hear without jumping the gun every chance you have? I understand I kinda suck at communicating stuff,” he opens the door and lets you in first. “ But I’m trying.”
“Well, I don’t see it.” You slowly walk towards the elevator. “All I see is a man having a crisis in silence and being aggressive and cryptic for no reason.” You press the button to the lobby and hug yourself. It isn’t any less cold inside the hotel, surprisingly.
“Maybe you don’t see it because you are too busy getting all defensive over your friends.” The elevator doors open and you both walk inside. Max presses the last floor of the tower and you groan. “So now, if you could, please, shut the fuck up and listen to my concerns —.”
“Of course! Since you are asking so nicely.” Your sarcasm rolls down your tongue with each word and mixes with venom. “I will hear you out, go ahead.”
“Gosh, you are impossible,” he mumbles. “This is why we don’t get along. You never hear.”
“Sorry King Verstappen, you want me to be all ears just so I can agree with everything you say? I can comply. It’s not like I’ve got much of a choice anyways. I’m stuck with you in this stupid elevator for the next twenty-five fucking floors.”
“I’m just worried, fuck sake! Stop acting like a child. I’ve been thinking non-stop about how stupidly scared you looked that night after the race. I was worried sick for you and felt like shit for what I did. Can you even understand that? Because I’ve been meaning to see you to talk this through so I can avoid fucking it up even more.”
“Well! This convo is going impeccable if you ask me and you are totally not screwing it up more by raising your voice at me.” Your back rests against the opposite wall to Max’s and you bit through your words nervously now.
Verstappen is aggressive and you are too, but you haven’t talked for long enough to truly get into any serious fight. Most of the time you were at each other’s throats over something stupid for a few minutes so it was easy for you to navigate the confrontation as long as you took his words as non important or a joke, but now he was bringing back a moment you didn’t like and enclosing you in a small space just to reprimand you.
It didn’t feel right nor made you feel nice.
“Now you care about my tone?! God, you are unbelievable!”
“I hate discussions.”
“Well it sure as hell doesn’t seem like it.”
“Because we never discuss shit seriously, Max. We always fight each other over dumb stuff. This isn’t dumb stuff and I’d rather not talk to you if you are gonna be this aggressive.”
Verstappen presses his lips together and turns to see the small screen showing the floor number before pressing a button to open the doors. “Okay, fine. If you don’t wanna discuss this then leave.” He urges you and you make your way towards the corridor. “Just stick to your dumb lovey-dovey girlfriend act in front of the cameras and try to not shit your pants the next time I hug you.”
“Fuck you, Max.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
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You sit down at the small desk next to your TV screen and drop the package full of printed pictures you recently got. 
The camera rests on top of three books as you scan the many photos with delicacy. You intend to select a few to crop them and add them to your journal and the rest will be sent to your house by a member of the staff so you can classify them in one of your albums later when the season ends or whenever you get a chance to go back home. 
This was your last free day before having to fully prepare for practices and you were trying to enjoy it as much as you could. 
Your morning hours got wasted drinking coffee and having some small treats on a local shop you found some streets away from the hotel and once you were finished having breakfast you went for a long walk to capture more moments in your camera but also to explore at least a little part of the city. 
As much as you loved staying inside and being alone, you couldn’t help but feel a bit too trapped and isolated since you began racing in F1. 
The schedule was tight and the job demanding, leaving you with little to no days to spend on your own or with friends, and as the months went by you started to feel more and more suffocated. 
You were supposed to be having fun flying to all parts of the world and racing cars but all people wanted to do was celebrate after races and then stay in fancy resorts instead of visiting the places they were traveling to, hence, you decided to buy a good camera to put your skills to good use and also a journal to detail your adventures as well as your feelings. 
Writing and taking pictures helped to ground you and be more aware of your surroundings and yourself. Photography was something your grandpa had gotten you into from a very young age and your mother enjoyed writing stories and small logs on a diary so you gravitated towards those things as an attempt to feel less lonely, stressed, or keep yourself distracted. It made you feel as if they were still there with you whenever you took a picture or wrote briefly about how you felt; you couldn’t explain it but when you did those things the weight on your shoulders lessened. It was as if your grandpa and mother could see every scenery through your lens and understand your days with each word you wrote despite them no longer being alive. 
They were the last family members you had left apart from Lewis, who was like a brother to you, so of course it was difficult for you to deal with the idea of their passing since they left you fairly recently. Half a year before you got the news that you would race for F1 your grandpa sighed his last bit of air in a hospital while you were trapped in a conference room with executives of Mercedes who planned to sign you. 
It was all unfortunate and happened way too fast, not giving you much time to digest the news. 
Only Lewis and his family knew about everything and per your request, they didn’t comment on it to anybody, not even the media knew much about your past before F1 and you wished for it to remain that way. 
If you had to be completely honest, you had no desire to keep your mother or grandpa swiped under the rug. Your true desire was to show them off and talk about them non-stop because you loved them with all your heart, but the sole mention of them brought you to tears and you simply couldn’t bring yourself to process your loss in a healthy manner. Although you tried to be close to their memory by indulging in activities that reminded you of them, you didn’t dare to talk to anyone about them for fear of completely breaking down and not being able to bounce back after that. 
It was unhealthy but you felt as if you didn’t have any other choice. Your life as you knew it was only really starting now, with your car and your goals set on the podium. The rest was history and you wouldn’t talk about it. You needed to move on and be strong. 
“Hey, Wolff.” It’s the first thing you say when picking up your phone once it rings for the third time in the pocket of your jacket. “What’s up?” 
“I’m sorry to be bothering you, Yn. I know we agreed you wouldn’t join George for the media day this week but an emergency came up and we have to send George to the other side of the city for some promotion so…” 
“You need me there,” you finish off for him and he hums in agreement. “When will the car pick me up then?” 
“Two hours max. We’ve got plenty of stuff to keep you entertained over here just in case. George told us you weren’t feeling the best lately.” 
“It’s just a bit of anxiety, don’t worry boss. I will deal with it.” 
“Well, I guess since you are so sure I will tell the the staff to get rid of the comfort food,” he begins to joke and you frown. “Especially those ridiculous shark-shaped gummies you eat whenever you are nervous.” 
“No way, man. I eat those even when I’m not feeling like shit. Tell them to leave some in the car too so I can munch them on the way to the paddock.” Toto laughs softly and agrees while you remain silent with a small smile adorning your features. While a hand holds your phone close to your ear, the other grips a particular picture of some flowers you took last week, liking how it came out. “Hey, before you hang up, is Georgie there with you?”
“Yeah, he is about to leave but give me a second. I will pass him the phone.” You hear some muffled sounds before the familiar voice of your teammate rings through your left ear. “My darling!” 
“Georgie!” You say, matching his excitement. “I’ve been checking social media the past few days. You’ve been doing the absolute best.” 
“I’m a TikTok sensation,” he jokes and you chuckle. “It’s been pretty fun but you know, I usually enjoy it more when you are here to record my dumb stuff.” 
“I’ll be there. I just needed a few days off.” 
“I know, darling. Did the short break help? Are you feeling better?” 
‘I’m feeling numb’, you want to sincerely tell him but you’d hate to worry him, especially when he is working so hard to keep the hype up for the team. “Yeah, the break did wonders actually. I’m more focused now.” 
“I’m glad to hear that,” you hear a door opening in the background before George continues speaking. “Hey, I need to leave right now or I will be late but tell me if you need something so I can get it.” 
“No, actually, I don’t need anything, honey. I just wanted to tell you that I got you a gift. I guess you will see it when you come back to the hotel.” 
“You didn’t have to! I will buy you something.” 
“Georgie.”
“What do you want? New shoes? Some candy? Another book?” 
“Honey, I don’t need anything.” 
“There must be something.” 
“Well, you can receive your gift in peace and not spend a single cent on me in return. What about that?” 
“Yeah…no, that’s not gonna happen. What about a movie night and some pizza tonight? Only if you are up for it, of course.” 
“That sounds lovely. I will be ready by 9 o’clock. Deal?” 
“Deal.” 
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“A question for Yn,” you hear after a while of discussions back and forth between other drivers and some reporters. You raise up your head and catch a middle-age woman standing up from the chair with a pen on her hand. “Hello. After the performance Mercedes showed on the last race, are you confident you’d be able to pull the same strategy for the next race or do you and George Russell have a back-up plan?” 
“Hi there, I like that red blazer you are wearing. Please do find me after this to let me know where you bought it, okay?” You comment first and the woman nods with a smile. 
Media days are the only day of the week when you act more laid-back in front of the camera. It is all really fun and entertaining for you; there is always a passing comment you need to add or a funny joke you have to tell to someone on your table. Plus, you show up in your best clothes, much like Lewis, and pose for some photos or stop by to greet any possible fan you encounter. You are far more approachable and relaxed unlike practice or qualification day, and let’s not even mention race day. You are so serious and quiet before races it’s kind of scary, even to the fans.
“I will make sure to approach you later then.” She replies and sits down, opening a small notepad, ready to type whatever you tell her. 
“Well, to answer your question, you’d find out during the race about our strategy. All I can say is that the cat is out of the bag and now everyone knows me and George will work more closely to score enough points for Mercedes.” 
As soon as you finish your words, another round of reporters raise their hand and one man gets picked by the staff. “Miss Yn,” he greets you and you smile. “Is part of your strategy to distract the drivers around you with your…less than prude outfits?” 
Your smile drops and tension fills the room so quick you are sure you can actually touch the negativity and discomfort floating in the air. 
“We are here to answer questions about our job man.” Max breaks the silence speaking into his microphone from the other extreme of the table and you observe him for the first time today. 
“I got it, love, thanks.” You tell him and he hums in agreement, lying back on his chair. “You can say you consider me a whore for dressing like this. You don’t need to soften the blow with fancy words, sir. I’d rather have you disrespect me fully than half-assedly.” 
“I just don’t see the point of dressing this way for a media day. We are supposed to focus on the sport, not the appearance of the drivers.” 
“We were focusing on the sport until you had to bring my outfits into question.” Your tone remains calm and your face shows no sign of anger but it is in your tranquility that you inject intimidation and Lewis, who knows you better than anyone, is sure you won’t let this man go without getting under his skin somehow. “I don’t see anyone else complaining about the way I dress or my body for all that matter. Perhaps it’s only you who has a hard time focusing on your job because of…my less than prude, and totally stylish, outfits?” 
You move away from the microphone and rest your back against the chair, taking a look down to where Lewis’ fist extends for a bump so you oblige without taking your eyes off the reporter. 
The man can carry on for all you care, you can sit here and deal with it because you’ve already grown accustomed to disrespectful comments and passive-aggressive reporters who want to tear you down for no apparent reason. 
You see the man bring the microphone close to his mouth again to further screw this up and feel the sudden urge to warn him out of kindness. “Careful with what you say, sir. I do like to prove people wrong and your comment lacks a solid base so I will have fun arguing while you will end up stressing yourself.” 
The room remains silent for a few seconds until you hear a small tap on one of the microphones making you direct your attention to the opposite side of the table yet again. 
“She told you to shut up respectfully. Do it.” Max sentences sternly and the reporter, who was already in the process of lowering his microphone, sits back down, and diverts his gaze to the floor resembling a kid who had just been scolded. “Great, now does anyone here have any questions related to the races?” 
The room goes back to its original state with multiple people standing from their chairs and raising their hands in hopes of getting their asks answered. 
Max gives you one last nod before relaxing back on his chair and you go back to your position as well but this time you notice Lewis looking at him and raising a thumbs up. 
The rest of the conference goes smoothly without any more incidents or awkward moments — surprisingly —, making you leave the building in a better mood than expected and with lots of energy left for your small hangout with George later in the night. 
On your way out you bid your goodbyes to Lando and Charles who remain inside by the door chatting and grab your phone to check if you got any important new messages, not stopping your walk or paying attention to your surroundings until you hear your name getting called from behind you. 
Verstappen takes a small run towards you and smiles. “There are some cameras around. Is it okay if I grab your hand?” 
“Go ahead,” you answer a bit surprised by his carefulness and he reaches for your hand softly, walking by your side. “We should chat about something so we don’t look too awkward.” 
“Actually, I was meaning to talk to you.” 
“Like the other night?” You question him and Max sighs, nodding. 
“Listen, I took it too far, I admit it. I’m really sorry for starting an argument and for raising my voice. My patience has been running thin lately due to the last few races.” 
“You are really stressed about the results, aren’t you?” You frown and he nods. “You are still at the very top. Why are you so worried?” 
“I wanted to set a new record…” He whispers rather shyly and guides you to the paths towards the cars. “And well, there is this team that came up with a strategy that’s screwing my plan.” 
“Aw, too bad,” you pout. “You’d have to work harder to win.” 
“It looks like it, yes.” Max shrugs and slows down his pace once you come close to your car. “Do you think we can talk about what happened once we reach the hotel?” 
“Will it be too much if I ask you to meet up for breakfast tomorrow? I already made plans for the night.” 
Verstappen opens the door for you and you thank him softly. 
“There are some reporters over there and fans too,” he announces looking past you and you groan. “I will give you a kiss on the cheek, near your mouth so they get the pictures they want. Are you okay with that?” 
“Okay, go ahead.” 
He closes the gap between you two, looking down on you intensely until he tilts his head a bit to reach for the corner of your mouth, pressing his lips there leaving a sweet peck while simultaneously wrapping his arms around your frame, pulling you closer to his chest on a hug that you return, gluing yourself to his shirt to the point you notice his perfume over the clothing. 
Inhaling in the scent you feel him breathe out warmly before touching your skin with his lips and slowly moving away. 
“I will pick you up tomorrow at nine, okay?” 
You have to blink yourself out of the trance you walked into so willingly just seconds ago and you nod, still spaced out and with your eyes fixed on him. “Y-yeah sure. See you tomorrow.” 
Panicked, you slide into the passenger seat and he closes the door after you, waving at your car once the chauffeur drives you out of the paddock. 
You touch his kiss with delicacy and a bit of ecstasy, and without really intending to, you giggle a bit before feeling the heat rising to your cheeks turning them rosy. 
What in the hell was that? You had no idea, but it felt so nice.
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#taglist: @alilcloudy @chiliwhore @halleest @welovediaaxx @its-avalon-08 @hiireadstuff @prudyhoo @almostjollypizza @butterfly-lover @sunsshinesunny @tsukishitm-a @be-your-coffee-pot @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @ironmaiden1313 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @sargeantdumbass @asmoothoperator @brettlorenzi3 @lewisvinga @dr4g0ngirl @fruity-dirtbag @ladyladybuggg @woozarts @casperlikej @marshmummy @leclercdream @namgification @mellowarcadefun @c-losur3
A/N: Hello my people 🫂 I am back after a day because I managed to finish correcting this chapter on time so I hope you enjoy it. Now I will actually see you all next week but I will be checking the notifs so if you have any thoughts feel free to comment or send me an ask 🫶🏻
And I hope you enjoy that chapter ending 💋
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hannieehaee · 4 months
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18 + / mdi
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content: sub!jihoon x sub!reader (ur just both insane for e/o), smut, riding, cockwarming, penetrative sex, etc.
wc: 1374
a/n: been working on a longer jihoon fic but im going insane at him so i needed to put out something in the meantime
masterlist
jihoon hated this.
it was so distracting. he had things to do, deadlines to meet. but now he was stuck with his mind at a blank, pretending to work on his computer while he felt the warm weight of your walls wrapped around him.
you had taken the habit of visiting him unannounced at his studio. which he loved! your company provided him nothing but comfort, making him feel relaxed at knowing that you supported his workaholic habits and even egged him on. except as of late, you'd become a bit ... needy, and so had he.
it had all started about two weeks back, when you'd come in wearing the world's tiniest skirt. jihoon was just a man after all, so he couldnt help but ogle at you, inciting you to come sit on his lap for a minute (minute being the operative word here). okay, yeah, maybe he started it by kissing your neck and rubbing his hands up and down your bare legs, but you had driven him all the way home by insisting you sit on his dick. he had reluctantly denied you at first, telling you that he needed to get some work done, but you insisted you could just sit on him, with no further distractions.
and so it began. your streak of cockwarming him whenever you came to visit him. every single time after that, without fail, you'd arrive to his studio, flaunting the legs he so much adored, and take a seat on his cock. it never took him much convincing to lower his pants and allow you a spot on his lap. he adored the feeling of your walls around him. there was no way for him to deny himself the pleasure of a pretty girl sighing in pleasure at the feeling of his cock entering you. except he was now behind on his work; something that was extremely rare.
he could not concentrate with you around anymore. even on the rare occasions in which you'd opt out of sitting on his dick, it was now all he could think about, specially since after every session of warming him up in your pretty cunt, you'd eventually begin whining at him as you bounced your ass on his dick, making him throw his head back as his hands dug on your hips.
that was his current predicament. you on top of him, chest pressed against his as he pretended he was busy with work. all the while you were resting against his chest, playing with your phone while leaning on his shoulders as your walls sporadically tightened around him, leaving him out of air. he needed you to move so badly, needed you to make him cum or else he'd never be able to focus.
he went on a whim, starting the movements himself. he planted his feet harder on the floor and did an experimental thrust up, immediately causing you to yelp in surprise. you didn't seem to be against it, though, as you tightened impossibly harder around him, starting a slow and sensual grind above him.
"baby ..." he couldnt help but sigh at the feeling, hands now running all over your ass, unsure of where to keep his hold.
"hoonie .. fuck, you feel so good. can i ride you, baby?"
yes. fuck. that's all he needed right now; a beautiful girl - you in specific - crying on his cock as he just sat there and took it. he loved the thought of such a gorgeous thing losing her mind on his dick while he just ran his hands up and down your body, not even needing to put any effort into it.
"please, baby. ride me? wanna feel you so bad ..."
that apparently was all you needed to hear to begin bouncing your ass on his lap, alternating between your sensual grinds and harsh bounces against him. less than a minute in and jihoon was already losing his mind, hands frantic as he played with the pretty thong you had worn for him. god, he was so obsessed with you. he couldn't help but close his eyes and lean his head back against his chair, reeling on the feeling of your gorgeous body pulling pleasure out of his.
damn all complaints he had of you distracting him from his work. he'd quit being an idol if it meant having your cunt wrapped around him all day every day. okay, maybe that was just the pussydrunkness talking, but you had him losing his mind at the feeling of his dick being strangled by your walls. there was nothing he wouldn't do in this moment to ensure this pleasure for the rest of his life.
"l-love you so much ... always so fucking good for me. love your cunt, baby. you have no idea," he groaned against your ear, loving how you tightened even more at his words. the effect he knew he had on you made his ego grow immensely. your moans also had the same effect on him, letting him know how much pleasure he gave you with such minimal effort.
"hoonie ... cock's so good - shit. please ... want more, need more ..." you unglued your face from his neck, now face-to-face with him as you eyed his lips. the air in the room grew heavier at this, making him feel a carnal need to kiss you with everything he had in him.
your loud whines against his mouth had him become boneless against you. your sounds were getting the best of him. he couldnt believe such a gorgeous thing could be so affected by him; by just his lips against yours. once you opened your mouth against his, it was game over for him as he licked into your mouth and sucked your tongue with his. the shaking of your body against his as you sped up made him have no option but to begin pistoning up against you, making your cries grow impossibly louder.
he was far beyond losing his mind. his brain couldnt process the pleasure you were giving him, nor the thought of the pleasure he was giving you. to any outsider, this was an animalistic show of two deprived individuals letting their carnal desires take over. by now, you were just humping against each other with no other thought in mind, tongues licking nastily at each other. it was a mess of cum and saliva, but it had jihoon thirsty for more.
there was no way jihoon could go back to work after this. not after your walls almost drew all air out of him as you came with a scream of his name. not when his dick creamed all over your puffy walls. not when your tear stained face was staring back at him, pouty lips begging for yet another kiss.
he entertained your wish, puckering his lips against yours for an uncharacteristically innocent peck while he ran his hands up and down your thighs with a softness that contrasted the previous animalistic fucking.
"i think i need to take some time off."
"hmm?", you were still a deflated version of yourself, probably unable to even comprehend any words directed at you due to your exhaustion.
"yeah. i think im gonna take a few days off and stay in with you. wanna- wanna enjoy this for a few days with no interruption," it was a bit uncharacteristic of him, but he'd been thinking of it for a while. he missed you even when you slept over on his couch while waiting for him to finish working. he wanted to enjoy you to the fullest extent for a week or so, with no work interrupting.
you giggled against his ear, "was the pussy that good, jihoonie?"
"aish. never mind. gonna do overtime now." he jokingly pushed you away from him, cringing at your statement (despite knowing it was true).
"nooo, hoonie. i take it back. take a whole month off. take the year off. i'll make it worth your while," he knew you always did, but he still shied away from your shameless flirting.
"how's two weeks?"
"hmm. two weeks of uninterrupted jihoon-time," you smiled giddily at him, "yes, please."
yeah. nothing sounded better than two weeks of you, him, and no work getting in the way.
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skipper1331 · 6 months
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Red Card // Ona Batlle
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a/n: based off this request.
El clasico.
Intense. Exhausting. Harsh.
Playing against Real Madrid was something you wanted to do since you were a kid. Growing up as a Barcelona fan, it was your biggest dream to play for them and when the offer came, you didn‘t say no - you couldn‘t. You left your childhood club for the better even though it hurt you. You had many memories and loved every single person there but it was no secret that Barcelona was your dream club and you worked so hard to achieve the goal of playing for them.
-
In your game mode, you stood in the tunnel, your eyes looking straightforward, jaw tensed, hands behind your back. It was your typical tunnel-posture as Ona would say, the defender always behind you.
The Spaniards were chatting with their friends while you didn‘t say a word. You knew plenty of them and would greet them after the match but now? You had to focus.
The first few minutes of the game were pure chaos, both sides losing the ball way to quickly. After about 20 minutes, the Barca players found their rhythm as perfect passes were delivered and chances created. Quite the opposite of the Real Madrid girls who tried to find their groove. As they tried, tackles came flying in, jerseys were pulled and harsh words left their mouth.
And when Alexia scored, hell broke out. You lost track how often your body had hit the ground or how often you saw your team mates laying on the pitch - the ref didn‘t seem to know the footballers rules though. No fouls called - no cards.
At half time, the score was 1-0, your body already exhausted.
"¿Estás bien?" your favorite defender asked as rubbed you back in a calming manner, "yes" you answered.
"Good. Now go and score a goal for me, mi amor" she pressed a quick yet loving kiss to your forehead before you left the changing room.
I will, you thought.
And you did. For sure, it was the best goal in your career so far.
Mapi stepped up to take the corner, her foot hitting the ball as she sent flying into the box, Lucy and Olga jumped high, Olga heading it away as you ran after the still flying ball. With no second thought, you jumped, leg up in the air, hitting the ball perfectly in your bicycle kick.
You heard the roars before you could even get up, the girls gently jumping on top you.
That was the end of your lucky streak, then after, that one specific Madrid girl didn’t leave your side. Every step you took, she took next to you. When you had the ball, your body would it the grass the second after. Ona was getting mad each time the girl was next to you - which was permanently.
"What the fuck?!" you shouted as she elbowed your face, blood running down your nose. The Real player screamed, dropped theatrically to the floor as she held her leg. Trying to stop your bleeding, you covered your nose with your jersey as the medics weren‘t allowed to step on to the pitch - refs decision.
The ref pointed at you as he walked towards you, Barcelona players huddled around you. With a quick motion, his hand went in his back pocket pulling out the red card, the very first card of this physical game. "I didn‘t touch her!" you argued, gesturing widely with your arms, the jersey and your nose long forgotten. "Look at me! She elbowed me!" he gave you a stern look before he showed you the direction of the locker room.
Alexia tried to talk to him (in a normal tone) as she was the captain, but not even la reina herself stood a chance.
With blurry eyes, you left the pitch. You felt heart broken, your whole life you worked your ass off to be here and play the match of your dreams, only to score a banger and then 10 minutes later to get sent off due an blind ref and unfair red card.
Off the pitch, one of the medics looked after your nose, thankfully it wasn‘t broken. The ref again shouted that you should leave the pitch completely or else, you just did as he ordered. Ona watched you with sad eyes, the disappointment your shoulder held and your head that hung low. Her heart ached for you.
In the locker, you threw the nearest item against the wall. You felt so much anger. You didn‘t touch that player, you didn‘t touch anyone, how could that be red?! As your anger slowly faded away something else grew tight in your chest - the realization, the disappointment. Sitting down in Onas cubby, you searched for her hoodie, you hoped it would bring you the comfort like it always did. You didn‘t clean up your nose, you didn‘t take off your jersey - you just sat there, doing absolutely nothing. The scoreboard didn‘t matter anymore, you didn‘t care if you win or lose. You had lost already.
In fact, Barca won 6-0. After you had left the field, the girls were mad. They wanted to ruin Madrid and they did. Even though all the girls already felt mad, Ona felt beyond mad. If someone messed with you, they mess with her. So she scored another 2 goals and assisted Caro and Alexia.
When your teammates entered the locker, they had a pitty look on your face - you didn’t look up. You just accepted it as everybody pressed a kiss to your head. Ona was one of the last people who walked in, she looked at your cubby - you weren‘t there. Panic washed over her body, she had checked the physio room already (the reason she was one of the latter girls). When Keira absently stepped away, she saw your tired figure. Walking up to you, she squatted down, her hands finding a rest on your thighs, "mi amor" she whispered, her thumb rubbing circles on your leg. You looked at her with glossy eyes about to break down in tears. It pained her to see you like that. The slowly forming bruise on your nose and the dried blood made her go insane. She wanted to rip off the head of the Madrid player. Yet she contained herself - she had be there for you. You needed the comfort. "Let’s go to the bathroom" she pulled you along to the nearest sink while she grabbed some random cloth. "Mírame, por favor" she demanded softly before she had wet the cloth. In silence, she wiped away the blood on your face. You didn’t like silence in Onas presence, you loved her voice and the things she talked about but exceptionally, you were grateful for the silence. It was the thing that helped you the most - her proximity. "Do you have your jersey still on?" she asked in a voice that wasn‘t louder than a whisper. In responds, you nodded. The defender tugged at the hem of your hoodie, asking if she could take it off. Raising your hands, she pulled it over your head before she pulled the blood covered jersey off as well. As quickly as she got rid off your jersey, the hoodie was back on, "we can go now, I can shower at home"
You left the locker minutes later. Ona grabbed your and her own stuff, sending an apologetic look to her friends.
Defeating silence filled the car, your head resting against the cold window, eyes closed as you soaked in the cool. The Spaniards hand rested on your tigh, your own on top of hers, fingers slightly laced. Unnoticeable for you, Ona drove around yet another block - she felt like she had to. When the car finally came to a stop in front of your home, you practically sprinted to the front door. Your girlfriend trailed behind, only to find you already on the couch, face hidden behind a cushion.
When someone would ask Ona what hurts her the most, the answer would be: seeing you in pain. It didn’t matter which kind of pain.
After she had took off her shoes, she went in the kitchen, filling up a glass of water for you. Wordlessly, she placed it on the living room table before she bent down to press a lingering kiss to your head and then walked away to take her needed shower. Taking the shower had 2 benefits: on one side that she would feel fresh again and the other side she would give you in her shower time complete silence before she would talk to you. At one point she had to talk to you (about the incident).
After her shower, she walked back in to the living room, your body still in the same position as when she left. "Mi vida, can you sit up?" she asked. Like a robot, you did, knees up to your face, arms hugging your legs. The defender took a seat beside you, her arm going over your shoulder as the other one went around your legs. "Are we gonna talk about what happened?"
"There‘s nothing to talk about! You snapped, feet hitting the floor as you jumped up. "I didn‘t touch her!" you stated firmly, hands balling into fists.
"I know" the defender simply replied.
You sat back down again, head falling on her shoulder as a tear escaped your eye, "I didn’t touch her…"
"Sí, mi amor" she pulled you into her chest and that’s when you broke. Furiously, you started crying. While one hand of Ona hugged your crying figure the other one caressed the back of your head, "you did so well" she mumbled, trying to lighten the mood, "i‘m so proud of you" even though, you didn’t want to hear it, you had to hear it. She knew you like the back of her hand - you needed to hear it. The defender knew that it was your dream to play in an el clasico for Barcelonas side which was kind of destroyed as you got sent off. "Mi amor, you played an amazing game. That goal, baby, wow. It was perfecto" slowly, the tears stopped streaming down your face as you sniffled one last time yet your head still hidden in the crook of her neck. "I‘m sorry for what happened, mi vida, but I am truly proud of you. You worked so hard for this to come true and it did. It was your dream and you did it. And you will take revenge. There are many more el classicos to come"
"You promise?"
"I promise"
Revenge will come not only from you but from Ona and the whole squad, too. They smashed Real Madrid today and will do it again.
The difference? You‘ll be there the whole time and score goals like nobody ever did before. You did it once, you‘ll do it again.
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ncteez · 10 months
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NEIGHBORLY (c.s.c. & k.m.g.)
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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 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, seungcheol, 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.
ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | reblog to give gyucheol a kiss on the forehead
WORDCOUNT ― 18.8k
PAIRING ― husband seungcheol x afab reader x voyeur mingyu 
CONTENT― husband!cheol, bachelor mingyu, open marriage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, second hand embarrassment, threesome, smut. 
WARNINGS ― mentions of mingyu’s ex cheating on him, also seungcheol is assumed to be bisexual and/or he is attracted to mingyu too but there isn’t any dude on dude stuff. seungcheol does put his fingers in mingyu’s mouth tho, deal with it.
NOTE ― i cannot and i will not defend my actions. also, huge shoutout to @homerunhansol for proof reading this for me!!
smut tags below cut:
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smut tags― exhibitionism, voyeurism, big dick cheol, HUGE dick mingyu, top/dom(ish) cheol, service top/shy/bottom(ish) mingyu, embarrassment kink???, mentions of porn, masturbation, phone sex kind of?? idk he calls mingyu 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!!! 
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~
Mingyu 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, Mingyu 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, Mingyu 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 Mingyu. 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. 
Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol 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. Mingyu tries not to internalize that he was supposed to be living the way Seungcheol is. Maybe he’s a bit jealous of the happiness in Seungcheol’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, Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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. 
Seungcheol though, he takes note of a lot of things that Mingyu doesn’t quite seem to notice himself. One, any time he mentions his wife, Mingyu’s eyes falter a bit. Two, he is clearly a single man and Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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 Mingyu’s porch. It’s a Friday night and Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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?” Seungcheol 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 Mingyu, noting the way he stiffens at the question. 
Again, it’s clear that Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol just never catches it. 
“Ah, no,” Mingyu avoids eye contact, trying to laugh it off as he confirms Seungcheol’s suspicions. He wants to talk about what happened though. He hasn’t been able to talk about it, and honestly, Seungcheol 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?” Seungcheol nods politely at him, figuring something like this may have happened. “Can I ask what happened?”
Mingyu shrugs nonchalantly, looking at Seungcheol 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.” 
Seungcheol studies his face a bit more, seeing straight through that carefree attitude and noting the immense amount of hurt Mingyu must feel. 
“I don’t, actually.” Seungcheol starts, watching Mingyu’s brow rise in confusion. 
“Oh, that’s lucky.” 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,” Seungcheol says with a smirk, leaning towards Mingyu as if he has a secret to tell. “We fuck other people all the time.”
Mingyu 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.”
Seungcheol dead pan stares at Mingyu, 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 Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol 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–” Mingyu 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.”
Seungcheol stays silent, smirking a bit at the way Mingyu, so huge 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.” 
Seungcheol nods both understandingly and apologetically. People do tend to mix up the two. Is it cheating when he watches another man or woman 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.” Seungcheol shrugs, leaning back again. “I can imagine that even if she did tell you, you’d not have allowed it, right?”
Mingyu nods. 
“It puts my stomach in knots to think of someone I love wanting to be with someone else.” 
“That’s fair,” Seungcheol 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?”
Mingyu 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.” 
Mingyu 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?” Seungcheol continues to press, wondering what it’ll take to get a simple yes or no out of him. He notes the way Mingyu’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.”
Mingyu, still at a loss for words, slowly nods. 
“She’s pretty, yeah.” He says, now leaning himself toward Seungcheol and raising a brow in curiosity. 
“As a single man, are you looking for love or are you looking for fun?” Seungcheol 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,” Mingyu shakes his head in disappointment. “Not for now, at least.”
“So, do you want to fuck my wife?”
Silence. 
Seungcheol 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.”
Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol? Etcetera. 
“Can you say something? I’m starting to feel like I’m making you uncomfortable.”
“Ah, sorry. It’s just–” Mingyu 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,” Seungcheol laughs. “It’s getting late so, if you need me I’ll be fucking my wife.”
Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol knows by now that the interest outweighs the concerns. And as Seungcheol 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?”
Seungcheol 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?” 
“Just let me know, like I said, opening the curtains isn’t the most insane sexual practice.”
Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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.”
Seungcheol looks at you with a fond smirk.
“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 big. Like, even from here I can tell he must be packing. I hope you’re right.” You say as Seungcheol rolls his eyes, knowing damn well that Mingyu 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 Mingyu 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.”
Seungcheol 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, Seungcheol never makes a promise that he can’t keep.
~
For days Mingyu 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, Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol 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. 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. 
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 his window watching his neighbors get eachother off, except Mingyu 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. Seungcheol is a handsome guy, and pretty beefed up 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 Seungcheol usually comes over to hang out except this time Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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. 
Mingyu: Hey um 
Seungcheol: here I was thinking you were ignoring me or something
Mingyu: can i ask about something?
Hell yeah he can. 
Seungcheol: oh? you finally warmed up to the idea? 
Mingyu: i’m just curious. 
Seungcheol peeps out his own window to see Mingyu’s blinds very quickly close.
Seungcheol: why’d you back away from the window? 
Mingyu: i don’t know, i feel like a weirdo
Seungcheol: i invited you to watch me fuck my wife, Mingyu. 
No response.
There’s a few moments of silence on Seungcheol’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.”
Seungcheol nods, looking down at the silence of his text messages and smirking. You’re right, if Mingyu wants to watch, he will. 
And so, as you go make yourself up in the bathroom for a good first impression, Seungcheol is quick to work himself up now too. Given, the two of you were about to call it a night and simply sleep since the day was quite exhausting, this is a welcome change of events. After all, Seungcheol knows how you act when you’re both horny and exhausted. He’s sure Mingyu will love it if he works up the courage to just look.
After a few minutes more of silence from Mingyu’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.” Seungcheol 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 Mingyu’s presumed view. 
Seungcheol 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 Mingyu’s blinds are still very much closed. 
“Put this on, tie it loosely and let it fall open for him.” Seungcheol smiles, handing you the silk robe you only ever wear when a third is joining you. 
“Oooh, perfect. Let him pine for it.” You laugh with a wiggle of your brows, stepping away from the window to completely undress and put on the robe. 
Seungcheol finally texts Mingyu again when you get yourself situated, right there in the view of his dark and silent home. 
Seungcheol: blinds are open, feel free to watch.
Thank god Mingyu has read receipts on, because right as Seungcheol goes to lock his phone and play with you, he notes that it’s been read and instantly glues himself against your back. 
“He read the messages, keep your eyes at his window, see if he watches.” Seungcheol 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. Seungcheol is good at this, always great with putting on a show too. You know for a fact that even if Mingyu doesn’t watch, you’re going to be seeing stars whenever your husband deems it appropriate. 
“You think he’s gonna do it?” You ask curiously, 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.” Seungcheol 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 Mingyu watches or not, he’s going to make damn sure you’re taken care of. His fingers expertly slide up and down the delicate folds of your arousal, 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 again. 
“No, keep your 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 delicate sensation, it satiates his needs for now. “Feels good even like this, right?” 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 really 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 Seungcheol to be right. If only Mingyu 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 Seungcheol’s hand with a desperate sort of sound. 
Right then, you see movement next door. Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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 so 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 Mingyu 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. 
Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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 Mingyu’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 how he likes to touch himself. 
Seungcheol 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, is he?”
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. 
“Use my phone, text him.” Seungcheol 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 Mingyu. 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. 
Seungcheol: open your blinds, let me see
Mingyu watches you text as your body jerks with each hidden movement of Seungcheol’s hand under that robe, and when his phone goes off he almost panics. Almost. He drops his length 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 Seungcheol 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. Mingyu 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.
Mingyu 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 come 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 splills 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 Mingyu 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.
“Don’t look away babe,” Seungcheol says, flicking his eyes to Mingyu. “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 Seungcheol, 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 Mingyu’s mouth falling open in what you can only assume is a moan at your naked body being revealed to him. Instantly, you shoot your hand to your chest and start toying with one of your nipples for him. Shooting a hungry gaze straight across the way and making obvious suggestions at him through it. 
Seungcheol from behind you is seemingly in his own little world when he shoves his boxers down and 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 Mingyu looks hard enough, he can see the way his cock will slide beautifully between your thighs. 
“Not yet babe, let’s play first.” Seungcheol soothes you through the disappointed sigh of your leg being pulled down. You were so ready to start fucking immediately, but of course he wants to make a good first impression. “Hold your legs together.”
You listen perfectly, feeling Seungcheol’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 Mingyu’s hand snakes under his briefs and tugs against himself. “I want to see it so bad.” 
“Mm, yeah, I bet you do.” Seungcheol responds mindlessly, loving the feeling your thighs offer to his desperate length. “Tell him then.”
Right then, Mingyu can see a mischievous little smile form across your lips as he struggles already not to release against his perfectly cleaned window. The way Seungcheol manhandles you is one thing, with his big 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. Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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. 
Seungcheol 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, with you falling with him. 
“Show him your pussy.” Seungcheol 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.
Seungcheol knows he has an entire list of positions he could do to get Mingyu 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 Mingyu 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 Mingyu when your husband spreads your legs, pussy pulsing around nothing more than the stare being directed at it. And there, sitting on Seungcheol’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 Mingyu’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, Seungcheol’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 Mingyu with a smile. As if to tell him, “this could be you.”
The way Mingyu’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.
“Play with yourself,” Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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. 
Seungcheol starts immediately though, his words driving you insane enough to know Mingyu 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?”
Mingyu nearly stutters as he hears the words, staring at the way you hold Seungcheol’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,” Mingyu 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 Seungcheol’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.” 
Mingyu 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. 
“I can already imagine how good it would feel to have you stretching me out,” You half-groan, 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.”
Seungcheol 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 Mingyu, he smiles. 
Fucking both of you are totally gone. Even from here he can tell Mingyu is losing his mind over you. Thankfully, you deserve nothing less and Seungcheol couldn’t be happier to play off of the way you both seem to want each other terribly. 
“See this?” He says, snaking his hand around you to move his cock and spreading your pussy lips.”Can you not see how wet she is?”
Both of you can hear Mingyu’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 raising up on your knees to situate yourself right above Seungcheol’s length, where he takes over and holds it in place for you. 
Mingyu’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. 
Seungcheol chuckles again at him, the breathy tone of his voice is quite obvious to him. Mingyu is holding out, he doesn’t want to come too soon and end the fun.
“You heard him babe, ride me.” 
Instantly, you’re sinking down and feeling the harsh stretch of Seungcheol’s cock pulsing inside of you. Your drawn out moan rings in Mingyu’s mind as he watches the slow descent. Only now noting how big Seungcheol’s length 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. 
Mingyu 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 your ass, all while staring forward at him, he can hear it pour out of you. The slapping of your ass landing against Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol, 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 Seungcheol makes himself well known through his breathy words. Dirty talking in a way that somehow, Mingyu 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. I bet you’d love to be spread out for both of us,” Seungcheol says at first, gripping your thighs and basking in the way you squeeze his length each time Mingyu does something to turn you on. “Don’t you think he would love to feel how you drip from this?”
Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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 of if Seungcheol is talking to you or to him at this point, Mingyu answers without thinking. 
“Fuck, fuck. Yeah–” Mingyu 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. 
“You’d make me come so fast, Gyu, I know you’d know how to fuck me,” You start, not realizing the shortened version of the name you’d called out.
And then he moans brokenly through the phone which instantly has you leaning yourself back, and lying against Seungcheol’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–” Seungcheol grits out, feeling your orgasm wash over you and grip his cock insanely tightly. “Goddamn, feels so good babe, that’s right.”
Mingyu, watching and listening, instantly releases the grip on the base of his cock, staring straight at the way Seungcheol stuffs his length inside of you. The nickname you called him 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 Seungcheol continues to chase his own pleasure within your dripping heat. 
Strangely enough, even Seungcheol is shocked at how fast he comes 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 Mingyu’s eyes to devour.
And devour, they do. Mingyu 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 in his own heat and he makes no attempt to move afterwards. Arguably, he’s still aroused by the image of the way your husband fills you up with his own seed, and the way you’re so full of his cock that it dribbles out and onto your thighs. 
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. 
“Mingyu,” Seungcheol calls out, breaking the silence with an out of breath voice. “You still watching?”
There’s another moment of paused silence.
“Yes– I am.” 
Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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.” 
Mingyu 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. 
“I’ll be coming over tomorrow to discuss this.” Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol and adjusting your robe back onto your shoulders. 
And right before Seungcheol hangs up the phone, both of you smile at each other at the way Mingyu lets out, in the tiniest voice for such a big man, a gentle little “Goodnight.” 
~
By morning, Mingyu nearly forgot Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol’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. Seungcheol 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 Mingyu has ever been offered a hug by him.
They hug. Seungcheol fucking hugs him to say hello with that expensive ass bottle of wine as if to say “nice cock, my wife loved it.” 
Seungcheol does pick up on the awkwardness though, stepping through Mingyu’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 Mingyu letting his curiosity get the best of him. 
“Don’t be like that,” Seungcheol 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.”
Mingyu, 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 around you after that.”
Seungcheol 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?” 
Mingyu nods, trying to make his huge 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.” Seungcheol rolls his eyes, shoving Mingyu by the shoulder playfully and heading back to the bottle of wine.
Mingyu 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 Seungcheol. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to expect out of this whole thing, like,” 
Seungcheol 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 Mingyu. 
“If you end up not enjoying it, there’s always someone else we can find to take up the offer.”
Mingyu very nearly panics, hoping it doesn’t show plainly on his face as he takes over pouring the wine. Seungcheol picks up on people so easily, watching Mingyu shake his head slightly at the words and pour a suspiciously nervous amount of wine into both cups. 
“That’s the thing though,” Mingyu says, popping the cork back into the bottle and already taking a swig of his wine. “I did enjoy it.”
Seungcheol raises his brow, nodding his head in encouragement and grabbing his own cup before following Mingyu to his living room.
“Good, I’m glad you had fun. Let’s talk about it then.”
Mingyu 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 come so fast,” Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol 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.” 
Mingyu stutters a bit, scooting his cup towards Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol 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,” Seungcheol 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.”
Mingyu 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,” Seungcheol claps him on the shoulder, now leaning in a bit too close for comfort if Mingyu were still in his embarrassed mind-state. “We get that you’re shy about all of this, but I’ve gotta tell you, her pussy really did grip every single time you moaned.”
Mingyu’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.” Seungcheol laughs before going quiet. “So, what do you think?”
Mingyu 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 fuck my wife?” Seungcheol says playfully before immediately gripping Mingyu’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.” 
Mingyu 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 come in her all you want, she likes that but, you’re not touching her ass.”
Mingyu nods, shrugging nonchalantly and surprised he even responded that way. 
“She likes it rough but she doesn’t know you 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.” Seungcheol 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. Mingyu 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?”
“That’s no fun,” Seungcheol deadpans, then nods. “But fair, okay. What else?” 
Mingyu 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 vanilla sex. I can tell you what I do like?” He admits, knowing that all of this is just in case.
“Alright, go on then.” Seungcheol nods, now topping off their drinks. 
It’s actually hilarious to him, hearing Mingyu 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?” Seungcheol asks, watching Mingyu 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?”
Mingyu nods, then shakes his head, then nods. 
“Define both of those. 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.”
Seungcheol shakes his head in pity.
“Man, you’re gonna love my wife.” 
~
Well, to put it lightly, Mingyu 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 Seungcheol came over to discuss things with him and even more so now, is Mingyu’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 Seungcheol inevitably fucks you, two, because it’s actually a pretty nice lamp and he kind of wants one for his own bedroom. 
And god, his window. His poor fucking window. Four out of the seven nights since Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol’s car pull into the driveway. The amount of pining within Mingyu 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. 
~
Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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.” 
Mingyu doesn’t quite make eye contact as he stands there and shoves the proof of his tests into Seungcheol’s chest, already regretting the decision to come over without so much as texting. 
“Showing up looking like this, already hard too?” Seungcheol says snidely, glancing at the results and leaning himself against his door frame. His eyes stare directly at Mingyu’s obvious raging hard-on beneath his pants, then he glances up at his face. 
Mingyu appears to be both ashamed and proud, presenting himself like a damn virgin. 
“Relax, it’s cool. You can come in,” Seungcheol 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.”
Mingyu 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.” Mingyu says to himself loud enough for Seungcheol 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.” 
Mingyu 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 Seungcheol talk to you. Completely misses the way he says into the phone “hey babe, guess who is standing in our living room right now? he looks like he might cry.”
Totally misses the brief pause and then Seungcheol’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.” Seungcheol finally says to Mingyu, who is still just standing there in the living room. “Are you nervous?”
Mingyu instantly nods, throwing his hands in front of his hard-on and looking to Seungcheol. 
“This is the worst, actually,” Mingyu starts, shifting from one leg to the other and glancing away. “Fuck you guys for being so enticing.”
Seungcheol shrugs proudly, offering a smile and then nodding his head as if to invite Mingyu 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.”
Mingyu nods reluctantly, taking a seat on the couch and staring up at the ceiling in defeat. Jumping out 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 large 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 Seungcheol when you rush inside and slip off your shoes. 
All Mingyu knows is that, one second he stands to his feet and gets a head rush, then he hears a door slam, Seungcheol 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.”
Mingyu looks at Seungcheol 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.”
Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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 Mingyu is entirely new to this and still seems like a deer in the headlights. 
You nod to Seungcheol and then lift Mingyu’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 Seungcheol 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. Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol looks at him with a fond expression. Mingyu 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 Mingyu and take your place beside Seungcheol, both of you checking Mingyu out from head to toe before looking at each other and smiling. 
“I don’t even know where to start,” Seungcheol 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, Mingyu?” You say, taking a step towards him and already lifting your shirt off of you.
Just as quickly as Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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,” Seungcheol warns, pulling you back by the arm and wrapping his arms around you, dipping his head down to kiss your neck and look Mingyu directly in the eye. “Watch him for a bit first.”
Mingyu 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. 
“Cheol, I’ve been watching him.” You say, leaning against his warmth and devouring Mingyu with your eyes, “C’mere, Gyu.” You add, giving both men shortened versions of their names to show your adoration for them at this moment. 
Mingyu 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?” Seungcheol looks at him as he makes his way across the room a bit too slowly for his liking. “We have all day, technically.”
Mingyu switches his eyes over to Seungcheol, 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 Seungcheol has you locked in his arms, holding you still against his chest as if to tame a beast from him. 
“You’re so pretty, Mingyu, really.” You say, blinking up at him and tapping Seungcheol to loosen his grip on you. “You can touch me too, you know.”
He’s still reluctant, looking to Seungcheol 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. Seungcheol and his confident breaths behind you easily contrast to Mingyu’s deeper, nervous breathing. You kind of get now why your husband told you to just watch for a little bit longer. Mingyu 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 Seungcheol and pressing your hips forward, against Mingyu. Feeling entirely loved, wanted, needed. 
“I missed this feeling,” You sigh out with a pleasured smile, throwing an arm out and over Mingyu’s shoulder, pulling him even closer. “I bet you’ll miss it too. I bet you’ll keep coming back for it.”
Seungcheol hums as well, nodding his head in agreement before blinking over at Mingyu 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.” He says, feeling that it’s not too out of the ordinary to make suggestions since Mingyu appears to be totally blinded by your tits right now anyway.
Mingyu 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.” Seungcheol encourages him, using the emptied up space in front of you to maneuver you over to the bed. 
Mingyu 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 Seungcheol for being able to love someone enough to pleasure them using others or to be jealous of you for being loved so blatantly. 
“Mingyu,” Seungcheol calls out, tapping your legs to spread them out and taking a step back to make room. “Go on.”
Mingyu’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 Seungcheol 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. 
Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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 Mingyu 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 Mingyu’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. Seungcheol watches your body jolt at the touch. He can tell you’ve been anticipating it since Mingyu got on his knees but knows you’re both pacing yourselves for the sake of him being able to enjoy himself. 
Seungcheol’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 core. Thankfully, Mingyu 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 at 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. 
Seungcheol laughs at your surprise, internally praising Mingyu 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 Mingyu’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. 
“Fuck,” You moan out, feeling the way his tongue leaves no part of your pussy unexplored. “Fuck.” 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 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 that your legs nearly close in on him.
Seungcheol is there though, quickly reaching down to hold your legs open for him. 
“Sensitive?” He gleefully whispers to you, watching the way you grip Mingyu’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. 
Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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,” Seungcheol 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’s length 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. Seungcheol loves it, especially with how greedy you seem as you furrow your brows and will yourself to take more into your mouth. 
“Mingyu,” Seungcheol calls out, reaching over to tap his hand that’s putting his obvious strength to use against your thighs to get his attention. “Look.”
Mingyu 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,” Seungcheol starts, moving his hand to caress your cheek before holding the back of your head in place. “this” he punctuated with a hard thrust into your mouth, gagging you. “is what you have to look forward to.”
Mingyu watches as Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol’s ever expected fond reactions goes unnoticed by Mingyu 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 Mingyu’s isn’t knocking the breath out of you, Seungcheol 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 Mingyu’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 length without his help and sliding them straight to where Mingyu’s tongue is.
There, he easily slides in two fingers, and still, Mingyu doesn’t stop. It doesn’t phase him one bit. His tongue continues, working around Seungcheol’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.
Seungcheol 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. Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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.
“He’s a natural.” Seungcheol compliments, sliding his fingers up and out of you, feeling Mingyu’s tongue graze against the entire length of one of them and moaning loudly at the warmth and taste. “Wonder what else he can do?” 
You smile when you pull off of Seungcheol’s, now leaking, cock and look down at Mingyu. He’s already looking up at you, lips glistening much like his eyes are as he plants more kisses up your body. Solely because Seungcheol practically hides your entire pussy 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 Seungcheol’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 Seungcheol pulls his hand back shortly anyway, pulling off of the bed and studying the two of you. 
You hug Mingyu’s head while he worships the chest he’s stared at from his window day after day. Seungcheol can clearly see how shy Mingyu 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 Mingyu’s head from your tit and probably cause some sort of huff or pout out of him. 
“Lay him back.” Seungcheol says 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 Mingyu’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 big 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 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 comment, 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 Seungcheol, who was actively already fisting his length shamelessly at all of the ideas he has in his head that you could to do Mingyu, or of what Mingyu could do to you. 
“Do you want that?” Seungcheol asks, looking over to Mingyu 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. 
Mingyu 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.” Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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.
Mingyu 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 long and drawn out moan, cursing at the feeling and nearly tearing up at how fucking tight you are. 
“Shit-” Mingyu breathes out, 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. 
Seungcheol skews his head, taking a step closer to see how well his friend fits inside of you and damn. Your pussy is clenching every passing second trying to adjust, and Mingyu's entire body is reacting to it. Naturally, Seungcheol 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 Mingyu’s arms though, with the harsh hold of his arms keeping you in place, you can’t help but groan 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.” Seungcheol finally chokes out. “Don’t let him come yet.”
You breathlessly nod, trying to press yourself up from Mingyu’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–” Seungcheol 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 Mingyu’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 Seungcheol somewhere behind you, and he’s quick to be there for you. 
“Feels good?” He asks, leaning onto the bed to kiss against your face. “You moan so good for him, I know it does.”
Mingyu moans before you can, sinking his head further into the pillows and letting himself get lost in the feeling of you bouncing on him. Seungcheol was right about this before, you do get wet. Fucking soaked. 
“Ready for more?” Seungcheol asks 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 back onto Mingyu’s chest so that Mingyu’s cock slamming into you is on full display for Seungcheol. 
“Slow down for a second, Gyu,” Seungcheol says, liking the nickname well enough to use it himself. “Let me show you what sharing feels like.”
And holy fuck, Mingyu 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 Seungcheol makes attempts to stretch you out more than you already are. 
Mingyu 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, Seungcheol 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. 
“Goddamn, such a tight fit.” He half-moans through a laugh, pulling out and thrusting in again, harder. 
The reaction is more than Seungcheol could ever have wanted. Both of you, clinging to each other through the overwhelming sensation. Mingyu, probably overly sensitive from the feeling of your pussy gripping him and Seungcheol’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 Mingyus. 
At this point, Seungcheol 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 Mingyu 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 Mingyu now.
“So fucking wet,” Seungcheol soothes, offering a harsher thrust now that he’s beginning to lose himself to the feeling too.
“So fucking, big–” You say, mostly into Mingyu’s ear despite your husband having a good size as well. “Fuck me open, pretty boy, show my husband how you like to come.”
Seungcheol smirks at your hushed and out-of-breath words, you always get dirty when you’re super turned on. Plus, the way Mingyu follows instructions is insanely sexy too.
In fact, he follows your instructions a little too well. Somehow, Mingyu overpowers both your weight on him and Seungcheol’s harsh thrusts. To the point that he actually has to stop moving his own hips because if he doesn’t, Mingyu will get all three of you off within seconds if he keeps going at this pace.
“Yeah, fuck, yeah,” Seungcheol 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 Mingyu has ever been able to fuck this way, because even as you and your husband manage to find room to converse through this, Mingyu 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. 
Seungcheol, 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 Mingyu lasted past the first instance of you sinking down on him. 
Shaking hands reach between you and Mingyu, and you’re quick to sit up and lean back against Seungcheol 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 Mingyu, 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 Seungcheol 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 says, 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.”
Mingyu lets out a choked moan at the same time you let one out, and instantly Seungcheol pulls out with a pleased and frustrated moan. 
“Let him feel it, babe,” Seungcheol says, 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 Mingyu’s relentless cock, pulsing and shaking as Seungcheol makes no attempt to ease the orgasm out of you. His fingers only circle your clit harder, and Mingyu only fucks up harder. 
“Fuck, Mingyu,” Seungcheol calls out, watching the man in awe. “How are you holding out right now?”
Mingyu 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.” Seungcheol continues, wanting Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol is about to go full cuckold and work at himself as you take what you want from Mingyu, 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. 
Seungcheol 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 Mingyu.
The sound alone is somehow filthier than any porn he’s ever heard. Sloppy and wet, paired with Mingyu’s frustrated groan at the loss of warmth. 
“Gyu, take the lead.” Seungcheol says, helping you to lay back and rubbing your thighs to soothe them. 
Mingyu, 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. 
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–” Seungcheol coos, helping Mingyu 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, Seungcheol 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 Mingyu. 
“Taste it.” He says, wondering if Mingyu will fight the idea of doing it. 
Shockingly, he doesn’t. He opens his mouth with ease and sucks Seungcheol’s fingers into his mouth. 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,” Seungcheol says, not even glancing at you and keeping his eyes trained on the way Mingyu 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.” Seungcheol 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 weird secret second thing that somehow feels more content than content. 
Seungcheol is in love with the way you look right now though, arguably so for Mingyu 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,” Seungcheol says, with a last gift to Mingyu 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 Seungcheol 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 Mingyu’s kisses do, up until you’re bouncing up with each thrust of his hips, and Mingyu 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 Seungcheol to admire from above. 
And admire it, he does. Loving the way you kiss Mingyu 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 Seungcheol’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 Seungcheol, 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 your love when it dribbles down your thighs as you wobble to the bathroom, and now apparently, he knows you seem to love kissing Mingyu 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 Mingyu briefly and kissing you. Both out of appreciation and love.
~
The clean up was devastating. Poor fucking Mingyu, 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 Mingyu 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, Seungcheol 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, Mingyu was the one who fucked you senseless this time, 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 core 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, Mingyu is practically dead weight. Literally fucked himself to sleep, it seems, as Seungcheol laughs out and nods to the guest room, which he already made up for him. 
You help him to the room while Seungcheol helps himself to shower, where puddles of water remain on the floor. 
Apparently you and Mingyu 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. 
Seungcheol likes taking care of people. 
~
When Mingyu wakes up the next morning, sunlight blaring through closed blinds, his half asleep brain realizes very quickly what happened. 
He’s embarrassed again, but the content feeling in his chest replaced 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 Seungcheol close behind you. “Wanna go again?”
Mingyu dead pans at both of you. You’re both fucking insane.
2K notes · View notes
gorgonwrites · 4 months
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wriothesley headcanons
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NSFW below the cut! minors DNI. 18+
author's note: i'm BACK!!! and i am obsessed with a certain duke from genshin, good gawds. my best friend and i starting spitting ideas out about our fav genshin men, and i decided i wanna share these with you all. :) enjoy! <3
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This man is covered in tattoos- he just tends to dress so they aren’t visible. He has a Cerberus piece that takes up his entire back, and he has lots of florals that cover his legs and arms and chest. That’s his secret little way of bringing some of the overworld down to him. 
Wriothesley is SUPER outdoorsy. He doesn’t make it a habit to spend a lot of time away from the Fortress of Meropide, but when he does go up to the overworld he’s most likely trying to soak up as much sunshine and fresh air as he can. 
He gets sunburned so easily, bless him. Even if he slathers sunscreen on, it's guaranteed he’ll come back to the Fortress burnt to a crisp. He never complains though. He took Sigewinne camping once, and his sunburn was so bad she was convinced he had sun poisoning when they got back home. 
He loves taking cheesy photos where he’s “holding” or “leaning on” landmarks, and is always super smug about the pictures if they turn out exactly like he wanted. 
Has a photic sneeze reflex. And on that note- the man’s sneezes are so fucking obnoxious. They echo throughout the Fortress when he sneezes in his office. He gets his feelings hurt if no one says ‘bless you’ though. 
To show love, Wriothesley gives physical touch and gifts. He loves seeing small things throughout his long days that remind him of his partner, and he wants them to know he’s thinking of them constantly. 
To receive love, he needs physical touch and words of affirmation. Trust is extremely hard for him, so having verbal reassurance is key to him relaxing and building trust with his partner. 
Is literally just a little baby. The man would melt into being cuddled after a long, hard day.
nsfw below<3
This man has a SERIOUS praise kink. He needs to know when he’s doing well and the reassurance drives him crazy. He’s also quick to give praise to his partners- the intimacy makes him melt. Will lose his mind if someone calls him a good boy. 
He also has a very mild degradation kink- he loves to tease his partners or slightly embarrass them. He can’t help that he’s fucking them stupid! 
T I T T Y MAN!!! 
Pierced nips because he likes the look of them. 
Obsessed with his partners riding his face. He just wants to be a tool for their pleasure, and in his opinion that's the perfect way to let them use him how they want.
He loves bondage, but more specifically, he loves shibari. He thinks it's beautiful, and the time spent tying his partners up in intricate positions feels incredibly intimate to him. 
He also has a bit of a sadistic streak- he loooooves predicament bondage too. 
Mild voyeur and exhibitionist kink, he’s a bit jealous at times though so he tends to lean more into exhibitionism. 
He LOVES edging. Giving and receiving- the delayed gratification of it all makes him feral. If he’s edging his partner, he wants to see tears and hear begging before he finally gives in and lets them come. If he’s on the receiving end, he tries to hold out as long as  humanly possible because he gets so lost in the pleasure. He’s usually crying out by the end, though. 
Generally, such a soft and tender lover. He’s very attentive and adapts well. He would most likely try anything at least once, and would say if he didn’t like something in particular. He expects the same from his partners. 
569 notes · View notes
joelismiller · 7 months
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misunderstanding
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joel miller x fem!reader
Word Count: 5.0k
Summary: you liked joel and you really thought he liked you back.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (joel is in his fifties and reader is in her late twenties), angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), jealousy, protective!joel, violence if you squint, no use of y/n
A/N: hi everyone my name is ariel and this is my first post ! I have never written for joel before and i have never written smut so please go easy on me and enjoy ! <3 (oh also i completely made up the currency idk how that works😭)
It hurts, you think. 
Having an attachment to a man who has seemed to lose the ability to comprehend on an emotional level how to form one.
An exception of course made for one goofy teenager named Ellie Williams, which you can’t blame him for—she is an easy kid to love. 
You however still can’t help but feel a little envious of the fourteen-year-old even if it is a silly kind of jealousy. You just wish you could be close to him—know him like no one else does or has. 
It started 6 months ago: you had been living in Jackson for a whole year after braving the world overtaken by Cordyceps alone.
Tommy and a group of other people on patrol found you near the edge of town looking right about to just give up and keel over and allow fate to take over and decide if you should live or die from that point.
After making sure you were not infected, Tommy scooped you up and managed to get you back to town where Maria agreed to help nurse you back to health and eventually make you an official resident of Jackson. 
You were given a house close to Tommy and Maria’s and they gave you a job at the local clothing shop of sorts; really just a place to trade or purchase clothing, bootlaces, etc. You began to not just live, but enjoy living—a fate you never thought you would be able to see for yourself after the events of the last twenty years.
It was more or less a life of routine and monotony, but it was more of a life you had before which is what made it special. 
Then Joel Miller came in and ruined all of that.
 Six months ago he rode into town with his little brunette companion for a second time after briefly visiting a while before. He walked up to Tommy and gave him a firm hug while confirming your hope that he indeed would be making himself a permanent member of the Jackson community.
His house with Ellie was only a few blocks away which allowed for you to wake up a little early to see him leave on his way to patrol. 
Now the interaction that started your infatuation with the grumpy old man was nothing too special; at least probably to the man himself. However, to you, it made a very old and foreign feeling form in your gut.
Butterflies erupted just at the sight of Joel Miller’s beautiful brown eyes that, depending on the light, either shined a light honey-brown, or dark and rich, like the coffee beans you used to brew your coffee that morning.
His hair reflected his age—a fluffy mess of brown with graying streaks and a patchy beard to match.
And his broad shoulders and strong looking arms made it so you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up by him—consumed by him.  
He looked awkward, you think, as he stood inside your shop looking around wordlessly. You decided to step out from behind the counter where you were going over some previous numbers for inventory to help the handsome man get what he came for. 
“Hi there, can I help you look for anything specific?” you asked as you approached him slowly from across the room. 
“Hi, um, I was just lookin' for a thicker coat than the one I already have—‘just got my first pay from patrolling.” He muttered, continuing to search the many tables and walls littered with all sorts of clothing items.
 “Oh okay, for sure! If you just follow me they’re right over here.”
 You began to lead him to a rack near the register which had a small assortment of heavy winter jackets. You were constantly selling out of them since Jackson was always cold no matter the season which is why there wasn’t a lot to choose from. 
He took a look at the jackets and gave you a nod, “Thank you, um…” Joel trailed off as you breathlessly laughed and told him your name.
He repeated your name trying it out on his tongue; making you wish for nothing more than to hear him say it in his Southern drawl over and over and over-
“I’m Joel,” he stated simply and you gave him a smile and nod of your head, pretending like you hadn’t already done a bit of digging to find out the handsome newcomer’s name a couple months ago when he first visited. 
“Well Joel, if you need anything I'll be back behind the register.”
You pointed over to the table with a broken old register that worked just well enough to store the currency the town came up with so there was an extra curtain of civilization despite the events that were anything but that.
You thought it was kind of stupid, but it worked and made people happy so who were you to say otherwise? 
He nodded to let you know he heard you as you went back to your previous position: pretending the whole time you weren’t shamelessly ogling the rugged, big, Southern man mindlessly looking through the jackets.
He eventually settled on a nice tan one with flannel material on the inside lining with white fleece on the collar and cuffs.
You quickly looked back down to the inventory papers so you wouldn’t be caught staring when you heard his heavy footsteps approach the counter. 
“I’ll take this one,” he grunted as he began to gather up some coins to give you in exchange for the warm, heavy jacket.
You quickly pushed his hand away to alert him that it wasn’t necessary, “You're new here right Joel?” You asked as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow and shook his head in agreement.
 “Right, then consider it a welcoming gift—free of charge.” 
You gave him a bright smile as he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head causing you to see the honey sparkle in his brown eyes under the bright store light. 
“Ya sure? Jacket doesn’t look cheap,” Joel muttered, his gaze flickering to his boots. 
“A hundred percent! You’re new and patrolling isn’t an easy job, accept it as a thank you for keeping us safe if anything,” you told him shyly, the smile never leaving your face. 
He chuckled softly and nodded his head. 
“Okay darlin’, well, thank you—much appreciated.” 
You whispered a soft ‘yeah’ as his eyes looked over you, causing a burning feeling to spread throughout your whole body as if you were being branded. He gave you one last nod of his head as he began to turn around and leave the store.
Not to your surprise, an empty feeling immediately filled you in the presence of his absence.
You whispered to yourself to pull yourself together—that you’ve only met him once and that his effect on you should not be this intense.
It didn’t help however as every interaction after that caused your feelings for the large stand-offish man to only grow. 
Whether it was a quick acknowledgement of each other when you happened to eat in the dining hall at the same time, or a wave of a hand when you left your houses at the same time in the morning as he headed to patrol and you headed to the store.
But your favorite interactions were when he would come into the store to maybe get a couple of new shirts for Ellie, or some new socks for himself.
Over time you felt him grow more comfortable around you as you did him. He would tell you about Ellie’s latest antics; swearing that the teen girl was trying to ‘send an old man to an early grave.’
You would giggle and tell him that he wasn’t that old and that Ellie was just a teen girl finally in a safe somewhat normal place where she can go to school and make actual friends. 
“About that, I think I might needa talk with her teacher soon—she’s been missin too much school and heading off god knows where,” Joel confessed to you, a frown overtaking his aged features as his worry about his adopted daughter showed clear all over his face.
You shyly grabbed his hand across the register and gave it a small squeeze.
“Try not to worry about her too much Joel. She’s young and she didn’t get to have a normal childhood—It's only normal that school probably doesn’t matter too much to her after everything,” you explained hoping that your words may ease him a bit. 
He didn’t respond right away, instead looking at where your much softer hand overlapped his bigger, calloused ones. An unreadable look came over his face before he gently took his hand away from yours and looked to the ground. 
“Yeah you’re probably right,” he responded in that low tone of his as he slowly began to back up. 
“I gotta go check and see if she made it home okay. It was nice seein ya.” 
You barely were able to say another word, maybe apologize for touching his hand in such a careless way before his heavy boots were already heading out the door; the little bell ringing a hollow sound in your ears.
After that, you began to see less and less of Joel and it hurt to admit that it slowly felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest.
You hated yourself for thinking that all your interactions meant something to him; that when he started to come to the store, not even leaving with anything but a conversation with you, that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you felt for him.
Every time you even attempted waving at him in the morning when you both left—he just grunted and looked the other way—pretending like you weren’t even there. 
The store was for some reason busier than usual today and you closed up feeling drained and ready to sleep. The long shift accompanied by the hollow feeling in your heart Joel had left caused you to want nothing more than to curl up and forget all the pain in nicer dreams where things were better between you, things were different.
Joel would hold your hand in your dream and walk you to work, leaving a kiss on your cheek and a whisper of having a good day as you giggled and kissed him right back—whispering the same sentiments. 
You were shaken out of your daydream on your walk home when you spotted the very man at the center of all your thoughts on the porch of someone's house, a woman’s house.
She was gorgeous with long, blonde hair framing her face perfectly, while she looked up at Joel with gorgeous, crystal, blue eyes. She looked older than you too, maybe even closer to Joel’s age.
They laughed about something before she was leading him inside her house as he followed suit; the door shutting in a finality behind them. 
You felt a mix of jealousy and an even greater sadness than before filling your belly as you continued what felt like the longest walk home in your life.
As soon as the door closed you slid down the old wood as tears and sobs that you couldn’t stop wracked your body.
You just didn’t understand; what changed, what did you do to make him start avoiding you?
And you knew how hard it was for Joel to come out of his shell, so why did it seem so easy for him to talk and laugh with that woman? 
After what seemed like hours, you finally picked yourself off of the ground and trudged slowly to your bed where you collapsed immediately upon impact with the old tattered sheets.
Instead of the usual happy dreams about Joel, tonight you were plagued with endless nightmares of him and the mysterious blonde woman; standing in the place you usually would in your dreams about Joel.
You woke up in the morning with a feeling of restlessness as you readied yourself for another long day of work.
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After work that night you decided to go to the Tipsy Bison which was Jackson’s bar that you would usually frequent when your nightmares from the time you were on your own came back to haunt you.
Mindless images of a group of clicker’s taking from you the only person you had left in your life since the virus took over: your best friend.
After she was gone it was just you, and that period never seemed to completely leave your mind even after a year in Jackson. 
After last night’s sleep, you definitely needed a drink you thought to yourself as you made your way over. When you entered you saw that it was a pretty busy night for the Tipsy Bison as you did your best to find a seat towards the end of the bar. 
Once you took a seat, you gave the bartender your drink order and surveyed the area to see who else was here as you waited for him to deliver your alcohol of choice. Your breathing stopped and your eyes widened when you noticed a familiar group of people at a table closer to the front of the bar. 
There in all his ruggish, handsome glory was Joel Miller, smiling widely as he talked with Tommy, Maria, and her.
You quickly swung back around to face where your drink was just set in front of you as you begged the burn in the back of your eyes to go away.
Fuck this, you thought as you downed most of the drink in one go, using your hand to wipe away the bit that escaped at the corner of your lips.
You did your best to ignore the person that was at the center of all your sadness; drinking and drinking until you felt a familiar buzz kick in and begin to cloud your thoughts. 
Right when you were about to order another drink, a skinny, tall, blonde boy walked over to where you were seated and said it was on him as he handed over a couple of coins. 
“You didn’t have to do that but thanks, I guess,” you muttered, hoping your disinterest was a sign that you wanted to be left alone.
He smiled wide in a way that caused you to shiver, and not in a pleasurable way like when Joel would grace you with the corner of his lip twitching up, releasing a breathless laugh; but in a bad, unnerving way. 
“Anything for a girl as pretty as you.” 
He winked which caused you to roll your eyes and once again look away from him. “I’m not interested but again, thank you,” you told him with a finality in your voice that the man—no—boy, didn’t take very seriously. 
“Aw come on don’t be like that I just wanna have some fun with you,” he said in a sleazy manner as he reached out to grip your shoulder. 
You quickly shook him off but in your drunken haze, you accidentally fell off your chair onto the ground—single-handedly causing the whole bar’s eyes to turn onto you. 
“Godammit, now you're just causing a fucking scene,” the man snarled at you, causing tears to form behind your eyes as this man's actions as well as having the entire bar watching the now-forming scene. 
And if the night couldn’t get any worse, you hear the familiar sound of boots coming up behind the man and it takes just one glance to confirm your suspicions. 
“What did you just say to her?” 
You heard a deep voice growl out, a look of pure rage overtaking Joel’s features as he stood right in front of the blonde boy’s face. 
“Look man I didn’t know she was taken, I was just tryna have a good time, you know?” 
An animalistic sound leaves Joel’s mouth before he takes the boy’s arm and forcefully grabs it until he's facing the bar counter and his arm is pressed deep into his back. 
“It don’t matter whether she’s taken or not, you never treat a woman like that,” he snarls into the shaking boy’s ear. 
“I never wanna see you come near her again, you hear me?” 
He shakes his head wildly until Joel finally releases him and he scatters out of the bar. The anger on Joel’s face morphs into one of concern as he gently stretches out a hand to help you up. 
“You okay, sweetheart?” He questions softly as you bat his hand away and attempt to stand on your own. 
“M’ fine,” you mutter as you stand on shaky legs—about to fall over when Joel rests his big hands on your shoulders to steady you. He chuckles and curls an arm around your waist as he begins to slowly lead you out the door. 
“You sure darlin’? Cause’ you seem a lil drunk to me,” Joel says amused at your hindered state while you frown up at him. 
“Don’t you have to go back to your girlfriend,” you huff out, avoiding looking at the grumpy man’s features. 
“Girlfriend?” He responds confused, not understanding what you were talking about until he catches your eyes drifting to Veronica’s face—Ellie’s teacher. 
After the day he left abruptly from your store, he sought out Ellie’s teacher Veronica. They have been having weekly meetings about how Ellie was doing in school as well as her continuous efforts to ditch class.
There was absolutely nothing romantic about it, the whole ordeal gave him a headache—a subject he was too old to be stressing about.
Besides, how could he dare think about anyone else when you had him wrapped around your little finger? 
When he first saw you at your clothing store and you gave him his jacket for free, he knew you would be trouble.
And trouble you were as he couldn’t stop himself from continuing to visit you just to see you and hear your comforting voice promise him that all his worries about his adopted daughter were normal.
It was actually your idea that maybe he should at some point meet with Ellie’s teacher. But when your small hand wrapped around his he got scared— scared this could become something real.
Everyone he has ever gotten attached to he’s lost and he already accidentally went and got attached to Ellie, he didn't know if he had it in him to do it to another person. 
And on top of that, he was a bad man, he had done horrible things. You were also so much younger and prettier than him—a sweet, soft thing Joel didn’t feel he deserved.
But looking at your heartbroken face now as you looked back at him and then at Veronica, he knew he messed up. He should have never started avoiding you.
It was never the answer, but Joel had never been good at feelings, this much is evident. 
“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you home.”
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The walk back from the Tipsy Bison to your house was a pretty close one, your hose only being about five minutes away.
Once you were at your door with a Joel who did not take “leave me alone” as an answer, you struggled to get the key in the lock in your drunken stupor which the large man beside you thankfully helped with. 
“Let me do that, sweetheart,” he muttered as his big warm hands covered yours and twisted the key, letting the both of you inside. 
“Joel, I don't feel so good…” you said shakily as Joel uttered a “shit” and quickly hurried you to the bathroom which he found pretty quickly—his hands quickly opening the toilet seat and finding purchase in your hair as he held it back, allowing you to empty the contents of your stomach. 
“Joel I’m so sorry,” you groaned as a tear fell down your cheek; your sadness, tiredness, and embarrassment flooded in all at once with help from the lingering alcohol in your system.
He shushed you softly and cradled you to his chest taking a second to rock you until your tears stopped and you felt well enough to stand. 
“How bout’ you brush your teeth and get your pajamas on—I’ll make you some tea then we’ll talk, yeah?” 
You nodded as he gently brushed your cheek with his thumb causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach as he made his way to your kitchen to attempt to find the ingredients and mug he needed.
You cleaned yourself up: showered, brushed your teeth, and put on sleepwear which helped you come back to a clearer state of mind allowing confusion to overtake you. 
Why was Joel here taking care of you, wouldn’t his girlfriend begin to ask questions? 
You weren’t allowed to keep worrying yourself with your thoughts as a knock on your bedroom door brought you back to reality. 
“May I come in? Made ya tea,” Joel’s voice rang out into your room softly as you muttered a quiet, “Sure.” 
Joel stepped into the room and handed you the mug which you took a generous sip of—the honeyed flavor soothing your throat and stomach. 
“Thank you so much, Joel, for walking me home and taking care of me. I’m so sorry-” 
“Don’t go apologizing darlin’ you have done nothin’ to have to apologize for,” Joel interrupted sending you a soft smile as he went to pick up your hand laying on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into the smooth skin.
In a reversal of roles, it was your turn to pull your hand away as Joel frowned and you looked to the floor; he should have expected that after everything that’s happened. 
“I guess I deserve that,” he chuckles sadly as your turn to raise an eyebrow at him. 
“Well you have a girlfriend and I bet it would make her uncomfortable if she knew you were holding my hand, Joel.” 
Joel couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped him at your words which completely stopped when he saw your features form into one of anger. 
“Why is that so funny? That’s why you stopped visiting and talking to me right? Because you found someone else.” 
You didn’t mean for it to come out as bitterly or as venomously as you said it but you couldn’t help it. You have spent weeks suffering over his actions towards you and now he helps you home, takes care of you, holds your hand like nothing happened? 
“M’ sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was laughing at you. It’s just that…” He trails off collecting himself. Joel sighs out your name and begins to tell you that Veronica is not his girlfriend and that she was just Ellie’s teacher.
He explains to you all about their meetings and that tonight was just him getting her a drink to thank her for all her help. 
“I promise you darlin’ it wasn’t anythin’ more than that—don’t feel that way about her at all.” 
You process all the information Joel just unloaded on you; and though you do feel relief, you still feel irritation and sadness as his complete throwing away of your friendship—abandoning you without a word. You tell him as much as he releases another sigh and looks down toward the wooden floor. 
“Look, m’ not really good at this…” Joel starts, eyes flickering up to your face as he continues. 
“But coming into the shop and talkin’ to you started becoming the best parts of my day, sweetheart,” he pauses to give you a look of sincerity and to try holding your hand again—and this time— you let him.
“And I was just downright a coward and instead of facing my feelings I shut you out completely and I feel so fucking awful darlin’ I’m so sorry.” He whispers, tightening his grip on your hand.  
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I'm hoping you can forgive me and that maybe we can try to be somethin. I don’t know if I’ll be very good at it and I’m so much older than you, but-” 
You cut Joel’s rambling off by pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. You begin to pull away when you don’t feel him kissing back, but he doesn’t give you a chance as he cups your head in a big hand and begins to kiss back with more fervor. 
“Joel,” you whimper as he begins to lay you back on your bed, his tongue licking the seam of your bottom lip asking for entrance into your soft, warm mouth—which you immediately allow. 
“Shhh, darlin’ will you lemme take care of ya? Wanna make you feel so good baby, make up for how bad I've been actin’.” 
You let out a moan when you feel the rough denim of his jeans buck up into your soft sleep shorts making contact with your clothed cunt. 
“Please Joel, need you so bad,” you whine as he starts to place kisses from your jaw down to your neck—slightly nipping and leaving a trail of small red spots in their wake, which he soothes with his tongue causing a high pitched whimper to leave your lips; beads of frustration beginning to gather at the corner of your lashes. 
“I got you sweetheart, I’m right here, can I take this off?” Joel questions as he lifts the hem of your tank top.
You nodded quickly as he borderline rips it over your head, quickly latching a mouth onto one of your nipples as he massages the neglected one with his hand. 
“Ohmygod-” you cry as he expertly flicks the bud with his tongue, soon moving over to the other nipple to give it the same treatment.
Arousal pools in your gut as Joel groans, beginning to leave kisses from your sternum, down to the soft skin of your belly, and right to the hem of your sleep shorts.
He leaves a soft kiss there and looks up to you to ask for permission to take them off. You nod vigorously but he shakes his head and leans down more to press a kiss to your clothed core, emitting a loud gasp from your mouth. 
“I need words darlin',” he states, glancing back up to you as you vocalize your permission. Joel wastes no time in taking your shorts down in one quick motion once you say yes—leaving you in your white lacy panties.
He runs a finger over the damp spot in your panties and then brings his arched nose close to the spot to breathe you in as well as to lick your folds through the cotton, his nose perfectly bumping your clit in this position causing you to squirm and moan his name. 
“Joel please,” you begged as he pulled away and began to run soothing circles into the soft skin of your thighs. 
“Please what baby, tell me what you need,” he demands as you try to buck your hips up to his mouth, but he won't let you, strong hands keeping you in place. 
“Your tongue Joel I need your tongue,” you whimper but he shakes his head. 
“Where do you need my tongue, baby? Gotta tell me if you wanna cum, sweet girl.” 
You whine in embarrassment and look down to see Joel Miller with the smuggest smirk you have ever seen. 
“I need your tongue on my pussy Joel, please take off my panties and use your tongue,” you beg as he chuckles and gently removes the white lace—quickly stuffing it in his back pocket before you can see. 
“Good girl baby, that s’all I needed,” he murmurs as his tongue comes into contact with the bare skin of your folds causing you to gasp his name and grab his salt and pepper hair to hold him against your cunt.
 “Oh my god Joel that feels so good!” You cry as his tongue moves from licking solid stripes against your folds to suckling gently on your clit, as your legs threaten to squeeze around his head. 
“Fucking Christ sweetheart, you taste so good, can’t get enough of you,” he groans as he continues to lick into you—the coil in your tummy beginning to tighten but you need more to get you to your high. 
“Mmm your fingers Joel, please I need your fingers,” you groan, causing Joel to growl against your pussy, the vibrations only heightening your pleasure. 
“Okay baby, think you can take two, huh?” he murmurs as he presses several small kisses to the inside of your thigh.
You whimper a small “yes” as he gathers your slick on his middle and ring finger—the burn you feel from the sheer girth of his fingers stretching you open fades into a dull bliss. 
“J-Joel I’m close,” you alert him as you buck into his face and fuck yourself on his fingers. 
“Yeah, baby? C’mon then cum for me sweetheart, let go,” Joel coos gently and that’s all it takes for the coil in your stomach to snap—a stream of your slick gushing out all over his face and onto the scruff of his beard. 
He continues to lick you through it until you're shuttering and mewling from the overstimulation. He pulls away with a large grin on his face as he reaches down to kiss you passionately, the sweetness of your fluids on his tongue making the kiss that much sweeter.
He wiped the rest of you off of his beard before giving you small pecks all over your face until you were giggling and he was chuckling. 
“I am sorry y’know,” he whispered in that silky smooth voice of his. You cupped his cheek with your hand, rubbing circles into the scratchy skin. 
“I know.” 
Joel got up to get a wet cloth to clean you up. He then took his time putting your sleepwear back on—leaving gentle kisses and massaging every inch of your body he could see.
He ended up spending the night as you curled into his strong arms as he stroked your hair until he felt your breathing even out as slumber took over you. 
He stayed up and watched you for a while until he soon fell victim to sleep; the thought of him finally being able to be completely happy despite everything was a comfortable thought, and it was all because of you. 
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fanaticsnail · 2 months
Text
Sapsorrow Chapter 4
Series Masterlist here, Main Masterlist here.
Word Count: 5,917
Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope. Slow-slow-slow burn. Series Inspiration link: The Storyteller Episode 8
Song Suggestion: Harry and Hermione - Je Suis Parte
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(Image Source: Here)
Although the words spoken to him through the den-den-mushi were what he truly needed to hear, Dracule Mihawk couldn’t help the small quake in his fingertips. He shut his eyes, focussing on the words spoken through the distortion in the earpiece, the purr of his crocodilian acquaintance rumbling with his raspy vocals.
“Dracule, I have the moon for you.”
“Swordsman,” the voice uttered with a small jesting lilt in his tone, “Did you not hear me, or are you actively choosing to not respond?” Mihawk’s eyes widened, his chest becoming tight while his heart choked within his ribcage.
Mihawk drew in a lengthy breath through his nose, attempting to stifle his anxiety through a brief meditation. Upon refocusing, he opened his amber eyes and fixed his reduced pupils down onto the parchment in front of him.
“And it’s-,” his voice halted in his throat, feeling the familiar strangulation of pressure on his heart, “-it’s to the appropriate specifications? It’s a dress that is as radiant as the moon? A dress that glows with a hue so majestic, it eclipses all else with its mastery?”
“Mihawk. Calm yourself,” the cold bark of the Crocodile ordered him, “I know what I risk if I am negligent to follow through with your exact words. Rest assured-,” a rumbled chuckle erupted from the Crocodile, “-I aim to collect a debt of equal value in return. Of what, I am yet to determine. What would equate to your life, hm?”
Mihawk sucked in another exasperated breath through his nose, opting to not grace his acquaintance with a response. 
“Judging from your engagement announcement; she is very easy on the eyes,” Crocodile complimented, sucking in another deep breath of smoke from his thick cigar, “Perhaps I should claim the right of Prima Nocta with your bride on your wedding night-.”
“-You are no longer a Warlord, Crocodile,” Mihawk’s tone cut through the air like a guillotine decapitating Crocodile’s words where they stood. Sir Crocodile allowed another sinister chuckle to rise throughout the phone in response, to which Mihawk’s frown deepened as his words began to sizzle as acid through cloth, “You would have no such right for that act, nor would I ever permit you to touch her at the risk of losing your other hand.” After a momentary pause, Sir Crocodile responded to Mihawk's words of warning. 
“I will spend some time mulling over my payment,” Crocodile’s smirk was tangible through the vocal distortion. Mihawk could almost taste the flavor of Crocodile’s lit cigar blowing tufts of nicotine-laden smoke through the earpiece of the den-den-mushi; all sour, strangling and as sharp as the golden hook adorning his left wrist. 
“You will have your payment, Crocodile,” Mihawk curtly spat into the microphone, his lip curling upwards into a snarl, “You may ask anything of me, but you will leave my bride out of the equation.”
At that, the hum of contemplation fell into the earpiece of the den-den-mushi before the receiver went dead; call concluded at the singular hand of the Crocodile. Mihawk sighed, feeling lighter in his chest, but continuing to hold such grappling urgency over him.
Time was running out, he could feel the clawing at his chest. The cruel teeth of fate continued to sink into his soul, his mortality tested under the curse of the Sapsorrow ring. He reached into his desk, removing a leatherbound book and running his palms over the emerald cover. The golden inked title set in wax remained slightly elevated, its ridges brushing against his fingertips. He opened to its latest tabbed page, the golden streak of ribbon pulled from the fold and his mind welcomed the words and committed their prose to memory.
“Two were forged, Two were made, One was lost, One was saved,” He muttered aloud, “Two were gifted, One was lifted-,” he narrowed his yellow eyes, unblinking at the final depiction on the page, “-The last not cast in molten bone; but lay dormant and waiting in moss-coloured stone.”
He heard the echoing voice of Shank’s laughter in his mind, recalling his light-hearted warning: “Mihawk, you should’ve cast the cursed thing into the seas. Mine was at least swallowed by the sea-beast while I protected the boy.” Shaking his head and focussing down at the words, he skimmed the pages bringing him to the final chapter. 
He closed his eyes, his mind becoming overwhelmed with the thoughts and conversations engaged with you, his governess; who was called as an aid and subordinate to rear his wards with skill and eloquence required to steer them into the correct path.
“These rings were made specifically to hold a particular covenant, none were the same,” your voice echoed in his mind, his brow continuing to lower as his anger rose, “each attuned specifically to the individual who purchased or claimed it. Why would you have such a thing, my lord? You do not seem the type to desire marriage or courtship.”
He snapped his eyes open, recalling how your lips brushed the band of the ring as you laid out your impossible demands for him to follow. He remembered the shock in your face at the knowledge he had one of the objects, the information you poured out regarding your memory of several others of its likeness. What else did you know? Did you know that should he not follow your requests, his soul would be claimed by the haunted specter of the Sapsorrow Queen? 
Suddenly his chest was rid of the anxiety he felt earlier, no longer fearing the haunt at the completion of the initial request. In its stead was the rise of anger and fury, his body rigid and tense with a violent rage. 
What more did you know? Why were you doing this to him? Why had you felt the need of punishing him, torturing his mortal soul in such a way? Did it bring you some sick and sadistic joy to know you had such a hold over him, your employer? These questions spiraled within his mind, his existentialism holding on by a thread as he focussed on your face.
No. No, that was not you. He saw your eyes filled with deep kindness and compassion; pools within flooded with apprehension and hesitancy; perhaps holding a crisis within your own soul. Why did you not tell him what you knew already? Why would you not trust him with such a departure of knowledge? His thoughts continued to whirl within his cocktail of murky thoughts.
If you were not going to disclose such information to the lord of Kuraigana; perhaps he could try his might at pulling truth from your lips as a simple Farm-Hand. 
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
A gentle rap of the joint of a knuckle colliding with your wooden door arose you from your dreamless slumber; a welcome experience considering the thoughts that plagued you of late. You immediately hoisted yourself up from your bed, wrapping your negligee around your chemise and feet slotting easily into your slippers.
Upon arriving and opening you wooden door by all but an inch, your eyes were immediately greeted by the sight of fresh flowers. Vines of sweet jasmine, sprigs of pastel lavender flowers and the deep magenta and lilac trumpets of morning glory were interwoven within the small, wild small, blue flowers: held together by a woven string of hessian and twine.  
“Lost-Lady,” the voice uttered in a hushed tone, “I have brought your flowers.” A warm smile rose to bless your cheeks at witnessing such a presentation of florals, although confusion eclipsed over its growing trajectory. 
“Farm-Hand,” you paused, your voice holding a firm warning within it, “You have caught me once more in my nightdress, although this time it seems almost intentional.” The man hidden behind the flowers chuckled slightly, although masking it with a small, dry cough. You shook your head at him, looking at the collection he held before you and tilting your head to the side. 
“Where do the grounds grow lavender?” you quizzed him. The more you peered into the arrangement he laid in front of you, the more perplexed you became, “And where are there fields of myosotis alpestris’? I’ve promenaded the grounds with Perona often enough at this stage, and I am yet to see any.”
“I scaled a wall for them,” the man stated, as offhanded and nonchalant as one could possibly muster. You rolled your eyes at his confession, but before you could utter another quip; he interrupted your thoughts, “Would you like to see it?” A small air of thickened silence fell between you in the doorframe. Should he have viewed your expression, he may have seen your smile falter into momentary anger at such a suggestion.
“I am betrothed,” your warning tone remaining held within your cadence, “Whether I truly desired the unity or not, I find myself betrothed regardless. It is not an appropriate suggestion, sir. Particularly not at this hour.” The man behind the flowers sighed a sharp and exasperated breath, almost airing on frustration.
“I have acquired adequate permission from the lord of Kuraigana,” He huffed out in a dismissive tone. He straightened his shoulders, the flowers in his hands dropping for you to almost meet his eyes beneath the straw hat atop his head. You swore you saw two amber irises staring back at you beneath its broad brim, akin to your liege. 
You took a moment to study him: his head covered with a wide, straw hat and his nose and lips concealed with a pale piece of cloth. The shirt he was wearing was beige, lengthy sleeves pooling at his wrists after ballooning out at the elbows. He was adorning tan pants, dark leather boots hidden beneath the ankle line. 
His lips shifted beneath the fabric atop his face to either smile or grimace at you while he watched your eyes dance in deep thought. Choosing the kinder of the two options regarding that small shift in fabric, you opened the door fully to him and stepping aside to allow him entrance into your bedchambers.
“I will replace your flowers while you change,” he declared, gesturing for you to retreat into your changing screen, “I would suggest you wear trousers and a blouse.” Your brows fell into a confused frown while you pursed your lips at the suggestion. Opting to do as you were directed, you hastily removed your sleep clothes behind the screen and found some tan coloured pants and a white blouse. 
After placing the items atop your body, you revealed yourself to the man you knew as Farm-Hand. Opting to ignore his stare, you elevated one of your feet atop the wooden chest at the end of your bed and hiked a sock over your foot and inched it slowly up your calf. The small snap of elastic meeting skin sliced through the air before you rotated your feet and raked the cotton material over your other foot. 
“Where are we going?” you asked him over your shoulder, placing your feet back firmly onto the ground before finding leather boots beneath your bed, “I need to be back to begin lessons with Perona after the morning meal-.”
“-The lord of Kuraigana has dismissed all lessons today,” he uttered in return, prompting you to twist your head immediately to meet his covered face. You placed your feet in your boots and hastily walked over to meet with him, a strict dominance and challenge swelling in your heart at such an order.
“Why would lord Mihawk dismiss my lessons with my-... -our wards?” you asked him, this time there was no doubt that his eyes were indeed a similar hue to your boss. He closed his eyes, the corners of his darkened eyelashes bunching in aggravation before reopening them once more to meet yours. Softness. Such deep and somber softness falling over this Farm-Hand as he gazed into your eyes.
“He-,” his voice fluttered and choked around the words, “-He desired for you to be relaxed for the evening that is to come,” his yellow gaze searched your face, darting from focussing on each of your eyes and looking over your parted lips before rising back to your intense irises. 
“He wanted you to have a day for only yourself, while he had the manor made ready for the celebration tonight. Your engagement tonight,” he confirmed with a curt nod, “Hence the flowers, and the suggestion to see more of the grounds while the decorations were laid and placed.” 
You shook your head at his words, sighing out a defeated air from your lungs as you huffed out an exasperated breath, “Show me then, Farm-Hand.” You collected your sun hat from its place on the vanity and fastened it to your head as you gestured him onwards. 
“As you wish it, Lost-Lady,” he spoke in return, holding the crook of his left elbow for you to lace your arm into. You paused for a moment before reaching out and weaving your arm within his and allowing him to chaperone you throughout the grounds. 
Upon exiting the cobblestone walls and polished marble within the manor walls, you noticed the hum of hushed excitement from the staff who dared be awake and buzzing at this hour. The buzz would halt as you sauntered past the ladies in waiting and the footmen, noting they splayed themselves against the walls and nodded to you within the arm of the Farm-Hand; a nod to which you and the man at your side returned yourselves. 
The day was barely broken in by the morning call of crows and ravens, their serenade yet to be sung while dew clung to the crystalline grass in the fields below. Upon the vines hung an assortment of dark crimson fruit in several rows, but the prominent percentage were amber-coloured grapes of larger stature. 
“Farm-Hand?” you asked the man beside you, angling your eyes up to him and away from the meadows that were displayed in front of you. He nodded with his response of, “Lost-Lady?” You continued to permit him to guide you through the grounds and along a forgotten track. The willow trees brushed their hanging vines against your shoulders in a slow caress as Farm-Hand moved their curtain away and chaperoned you through their shield. 
“This is not a well-beaten track,” you laughed, prompting him to chuckle at your comment, “You made this journey this morning? In the dark?” He unlaced his hand from yours as he first stepped down a rocky incline, offering his hand out in an invitation for you to use him to steady yourself. 
“That I did,” he admitted. You placed your hand within his, allowing him to guide you along the stones that wobbled beneath your feet. A small, childish giggle threatened to spill from your lips as you stumbled your footing on the rocks. You allowed yourself to lean further against his arm for balance, noticing he wove himself closer to you to shepherd you to safety.
“What a strange thing to do at such an hour,” you again almost giggled as you took a small pause in your movements to steady yourself against him, “Do you not sleep?” He sucked in a small breath from behind the material of his mask, his hat doing little to conceal his surprise. 
“I have had much to ponder of late,” his tone holding a slight sassiness to it you were not expecting from someone in servitude. 
“And what does a Farm-Hand have to ponder, hm?” you sassed back, eyes narrow and lips in a playful smirk. His honey-coloured eyes widened at your return of attitude before looking down to where your hands were still joined at the palms. 
“Everything,” he uttered bringing his unoccupied hand to cover your knuckles and soothed over the skin with his thumb, “One which perplexes me is the curse of the Sapsorrow Queen.” He released your hand from within his and continued to guide you off the beaten track and into the unknown; the wall of the keep continuing to hold you within its guarded safety. 
“I see,” you nodded, brows furrowing at the thought, “I’m sure it would be quite the buzz amongst the staff. I can already hear it myself: The lord of Kuraigana accidentally engaging himself with someone so low-” 
“-Do not dare to do yourself the disservice of calling yourself low,” he spat in a gruff tone, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes, “I have-... -Lord Mihawk has always held you in the highest regard.” You halted your steps, taken aback at the statement, before again stuttering your footing forward to follow Farm-Hand closer to the edge of the wall.
“Forgive me for offending you,” you offered your apology to him in a hushed whisper, following behind him dutifully. He laughed heartily at that comment, the cloth covering his face doing a poor job at stifling his joy. 
“Oh, my lady,” he turned back to face you once more and offered you his hand to guide you up the small incline of grass and dew, “you can make it up to me by aiding my bewilderment.” You smiled softly at him, taking his hand once more and allowing him to tug you as you stepped up the side of the hill. You were ever thankful you paid mind to his warning of wearing trousers as the mud from your boots sprayed their hem with its sludge. 
“I will try as I might, Farm-Hand,” you smiled before your eyes widened in partial panic at the small slip of your boot. Immediately, the man above you reached down and grasped beneath your arms and hoisted you up to the top of the hill. He fell his hands to your waist as you steadied yourself atop the ground. You finally allowed a small giggle to spill from your lips at this motion, placing your hands on his wrists and gently prying his hands away from you. 
“This is a fair hike,” you confirmed with him, “I haven’t been on its equal since childhood. The grounds here are beautiful.” You turned to glance at the distance you’d covered, only barely making out the manor from the great distance. 
“Allow me the luxury of taking you higher,” Farm-Hand again smirked his hidden lips at you, voice dripping with arrogant sass as he gestured to the wall beside you. Your eyes widened at the height of such a wall, looking to the cobblestones protruding from the ridge in cement. 
“I am assuming there are some stairs closeby,” you asked him your pointed question, arching up your brow at his suggestion. He again dryly chuckled at your statement, shaking his head.
“But where would be the challenge in that?” his tone sassed within his hidden lips, prompting you to shake your head at him.You looked around at the wide wall, starting at the lowest lows before reaching to the heights above. 
“Are you expecting me to climb, Farm-Hand?” you shook your head at him, turning your gaze back towards him and noticed he had rolled his long pale sleeves up to the elbow, and was now shifting his pants to tuck their ankles into his leather boots. 
“I have had the challenge placed on me to bring you to the wall and show you where I collected your flowers,” he informed you, standing to meet your gaze, “And while you’re clinging to me, perhaps you could inform me all you know about the Sapsorrow curse?” You gasped at him, gawking as he gestured for you to walk over to him and bring yourself beside him. He readied himself by tying a dual-knotted rope, two loops within its length.
“Who challenged you to do such a thing?” you narrowed your eyes, suspicion overtaking you as you drew yourself behind the Farm-Hand. 
“You did, when you told me to show you,” he sassed, his eyebrow arching up as you apprehensively placed your hands onto his shoulders. He flung the rope into the air, the circlets falling over your heads, down your torso and halting at your hips as he pulled sharply on the end. You immediately became flush beside him and watched as he flung the end over a loop at the top of the wall, collecting the descending length back into his hand with a quick catch.
“You’ve done this before,” you smirked at him, eyes raking over his face with suggestive challenge laced within your tone.
He stooped down to you, the brims of your hats touching as he cooed down in a mocking tone, “I did this, this morning.”
You laughed, slapping his chest and mirrored his foot pressing against the wall. He began stepping his hands within the grasp of the rope, levering you towards the top of the wall and walking his feet against the stone ever so often to balance against it. You began to feel a little helpless as he hoisted you both upwards, a small air of panic rising in your chest the further you rose from the ground. 
“Whatever you are thinking, don’t,” He commented, his voice remaining steady as he continued flexing his arms and elevating you towards the top of the large wall, “I won’t let you fall, nor am I bothered by your presence beside me.”
“Are you sure? My additional weight is-,” you began, only to have his sharp reprimand catch you off guard with his tone. 
“-You are perfect as you are, and not encumbering me in the slightest,” he warned you. As a small display of his words, he looped his right arm within the rope and let go with his left. Looking directly into your eyes, he jumped his right hand upwards. He was jolting the two of you in a slower rise, but raising you all the same with only one arm. 
“Shall I keep doing it this way, or would you prefer it to be smoother, Lost-Lady?” He taunted you, keeping his eyes boring into yours with an intense sassiness. 
“Smoother is preferable,” you lulled your head to the side, rolling your eyes at this arrogant display, “But if you are not done with your peacocking; by all means, continue.” 
“As you wish, Lost-Lady,” he smirked, bringing his left hand back up to the rope and smoothing out the elevation between you, “Now, tell me about-.”
“-The Sapsorrow Rings? Yes. I can tangibly feel how interested you are in my knowledge on the matter, Farm-Hand,” you taunted him, again rolling your eyes at him. He growled lowly at you, but elected to say nothing as you approached the top of the wall. He wrapped his left arm around your waist, placing his right hand against the flat of the top and pushed upwards with his forearm. He ensured your safety first, placing you against the stone base and then falling himself beside you.
Dangling your legs off the ledge, you were overwhelmed by the sights laid out before you. Beholding the entirety of the keep belonging to your betrothed, you could see everything from here. The Manor, the vineyards with their white rose markers, the barrel room with steel vats, the hedge-end mazes and checkered flooring, the courtyards and workers frolicking - everything. 
“Turn around,” Farm-Hand commanded you with a soft tone. You felt his fingertips graze your chin, turning you to view a sight held completely secret and secluded from the rest of Kuraigana’s lands. This view had no equal; the expanding variety of flowers spanning the area was breathtaking. Some were wild, some were painstakingly cared for with hard work and persistence. Rivers of coloured petals and softened greens peppered the area, a small hanging swing fell from a heavy branch of a purple Jacaranda tree. 
Your jaw slackened, looking to the small field of blue stemmed flowers, to the back of the assortment. 
“You found the myosotis alpestris’?” Farm-Hand’s tone smiled at you. Without uttering a word, you slowly nodded your head, allowing your jaw to remain slackened at the sights. 
It was beautiful. Everything was so beautiful, and so private. Secluded, separate - secret.
“Did you hear the legend of how they got their common name?” He brushed his index finger over your jaw towards your ear, tucking a loose strand behind it before moving down to begin unloosening the knots at your waists. 
“It was said there was a knight who died on the quest to retrieve the blue flowers for his lover the night before they announced their intention to wed,” he continued picking at the knots to loosen them at your hip, “He called out with his final breath: ‘forget me not’ as he perished on the field, the blue flowers fisted in his palm.”
“What a horrible story,” you whispered, still not baring to take your eyes away from the enchantment below you. The shrouded man beside you chuckled at your candor, finally releasing the rope from the both of you and rolling it within his palm and forearm.
“A fitting flower for you, considering your predicament,” he smiled with his voice, nudging you with his shoulder. You finally broke free from the enchantment at that nudge, nudging him in return with your own shoulder. “Speaking on legends of old-,” he began, before you immediately elevated your tone above his.
“-Sapsorrow, I know. I did give you my word,” you sighed, a final small nudge of your shoulder brushing with his and a small smile later; you apprehensively began to relay your knowledge onto your new friend.
“I didn’t know there were ten of them, nor there was poetry crafted for them,” you shrugged your shoulders, “My betrothed was kind enough to inform me the warlords and higher ups in the world government had them, although I had my suspicions there were more than one in the midst.” You sucked in a deep breath of air before hissing it out. 
“The only mention I had heard was a story from my childhood. My father-,” your words choked in your throat, causing you a small rise in bittersweet melancholy at the memories, “...-My father used to read it to me. A funny tale, if not for its tragic origins. I adored the happy ending the most, but the beginning? That is what held my attention: probably why I made the insidious requests. Very self-indulgent, in that regard.”
Farm-Hand chuckled at your side, urging you to keep relaying your thoughts. 
“Sapsorrow, as she was known, was cursed to marry her father by placing a hereditary ring onto her unity finger - much akin to how I placed this,” you looked down at the green gemmed ring sparkling up at you, “on my own. Her father was widowed, like my own. She didn’t realize the moment she placed it on her finger, she was set to marry the ruling monarch in that area: her father.”
You shuddered at the thought, a smile rising to your lips as you heard your own father’s voice retelling the story with the vocal emphasis on each of the elements. He was such a wonderful storyteller, you could hear him talk for hours on end and never tire. 
“So what does she do? She makes it impossible for them to wed. She cannot marry her father, of course she cannot,” passion elevated in your voice, hearing the way your own father spoke the prose with enthusiasm, “but she also cannot dishonor the king, nor oppose the law. As each task grew more and more impossible, she forms a plan to escape from her kingdom and away from her destiny.”
Mihawk’s voice hitched in his throat, the material almost shifting from his nose and revealing his face to her at the notion. You continued to relay the fantastical tale of woe and romance, Sapsorrow being championed now as a servant to a prince. 
“So as the tale progresses; Princess Sapsorrow meets a prince and woos him with the three dresses she commissioned her father to make for her. They fall in love twice: her as his servant, and her as the princess-.” Farm-Boy leaned into you, halting your words with his voice overlapping your own.
“-Are you going to run?” He asked you suddenly, “Will you run from me-... -from Mihawk?” He quickly corrected himself, a momentary lapse he prayed you did not catch. You sighed, closing your eyes and taking a moment to collect yourself. You then allowed yourself another moment to look at the garden below you, you breathed in their deep and complex smell of deep florals and spiced undertones.
“To be candid with you, Farm-Hand,” you confessed in a voice above a whisper, “I had thought on it. I desired nothing more than to flee- to run and leave everything behind. I am terrified, Farm-Hand. I am-.” Shutting your eyes once more, you heard the first chitter of birds calling to the morning at the rise of the dawn. 
“I have always felt the need for control,” you continued your confession, “There were so many, many things outside of my control. I wanted to make a life for myself, a life that was mine. I never wanted to marry, to love. To shepherd others to create that life for themselves? Absolutely.”
“Are you planning on running?” Farm-Hand held a stern and unwavering tone to it, prompting you to meet his yellow eyes. You raked your eyes over his shielded face, noticing how his eyes particularly held a familiarity within them; a hue you deduced was endemic to Kuraigana. 
“I desired to. That was until,” you paused, looking to your knees and holding your firm gaze affixed upon them, “until his eyes-... until his voice-.” You shook your head, ridding yourself of your thoughts regarding your betrothed.
“Yes?” Farm-Hand questioned you, hypnotizing you to welcome back those enchanting thoughts you had dwelling on him, “His eyes?” 
“They’re perfect,” you whispered, eyelashes fluttering as the swell of your heart grew. The small breeze atop the wall carried the warm scent of the flowers below up to meet you. 
“And his voice?” he whispered, bringing himself ever closer to you. 
“It’s perfect,” you uttered your confession to the man beside you, held in a moment of utter awe at picturing your betrothed. The way he held you, the way his forehead touched yours as he cared for you. His hands were always ever guiding, always suggesting; never dictating. 
“It’s not what he can offer me, nor the bonds of fate that join us together,” you continued, baring your soul out to your coworker who so dutifully escorted you to the castle walls, “I just cannot allow myself to give into such feelings. Not when I know he is only doing it as honor commands it.” After a moment of brief pause, silence shrouding your presence together above the gardens, Farm-Hand spoke up.
“I have a problem much like your own,” he spoke slowly, prompting you to seek out his gaze. His yellowed hues held firm to the gardens as he continued, “When I think about her, it makes my skin tingle.” He absentmindedly began drawing patterns against the cobblestone wall, tracing invisible lines with the tip of his index finger. 
“My heart swells when she walks into the room,” he continued, continuing to hold his gaze firm in front of him, “Especially when she looks at me like she’d rather me struck by lightning. Her eyes, her voice. You said it first: perfect.”
You hummed in response, both dwelling in an air of unspoken desire and a lover's melancholy. Farm-Hand rose his palm in front of his eyes, staring at the small creases formed within them as he added, “The softest brush of her fingertips could have me fall to my knees if I remain uncareful.” You laughed a dry and humorless laugh.
“Ah, yes. We’re in love,” you continued to laugh, teetering off to add to your declaration, “how tragic.”
“A tragedy indeed,” Farm-Hand uttered with an undertone of purring sass. He tugged at his hat, ensuring it was placed firmly atop his head before standing atop the wall. He grasped the rope and began looping it as he had done before and extended his hand in aid for you to stand. 
“This will remain confidential, yes?” you uttered as you placed your palm in his, “I can’t let this confession get back to my wards, nor my betrothed.”
“I won’t tell a soul,” Farm-Hand affirmed to you with a curt nod, “Under the condition you will not relay anything I told you here today, including knowledge on this area.” You took a final look at the garden, cocking your head to the side as you quizzed him.
“Is this area not common knowledge to those who live here?” you inquired, looking deep into his amber irises. 
“You are the first eyes to see it, aside from the lord of Kuraigana,” he uttered a final confession, “and I wanted so desperately for you to see what I have crafted with my hands. After all this secrecy, you deserved to see it in its prime.” Your eyes softened as he tied the ropes secured to your hips and hooked it over the metal hook. 
“Thank you for advocating for me to see this,” you smiled at him, soft and sweet as one would do their friend, “I have thoroughly enjoyed this adventure, and learning what you have managed to foster from the earth. I am proud to call you my friend.”
“As I am proud to call you mine,” he smiled with his eyes, his brows softening as he guided you to the edge of the wall. You looked over the edge and immediately found yourself unnerved at the prospect of a decline.
“Let’s call this a leap of faith, Lost-Lady,” Farm-Hand cooed down at you, “Taking a leap before you take the leap.” You stiffened in your tracks, prompting him to hold himself a little closer to you. 
“I’m here by your side, I will not drop you,” he confirmed, lacing his left hand around your waist and holding you against him, “Now let’s get you back to the manor. You’ll be needing a rest before the celebration tonight.” 
“I don’t think I can do this-,” you began, just at the moment Farm-Hand jumped with you firmly held against his side. You shrieked as you plummeted to the bottom of the wall, slowed only by the fibers of the rope fizzing within the firm grip of your friend. You held your eyes shut, even when you felt the air no longer blowing over your body at your descent. 
“You can open your eyes, Lost-Lady,” the man beside you cooed, voice dripping in cheek. You apprehensively unsqueezed one eye, followed by the other as you noticed your feet were placed firmly on the ground. The arm of Farm-Hand was continuing to hold you stable as you caught your barings, only unweaving around you as you gestured slowly for him to do so.
“Thank you, Farm-Hand. I have thoroughly enjoyed my morning,” you nodded, extending your right hand out for him to shake it, an air of professionalism once again returning to you. Albeit, the glimmer of humor in your eye and the pull of sass on your lips seemed to indicate you were toying with him.
“You’re welcome, Lost-Lady. I have thoroughly enjoyed mine,” He took your hand within his, shaking it briefly before stooping to press his forehead against your knuckles. After he rose, he uttered, “Let’s get you ready for what’s to come next.”
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gothicomens · 1 year
Text
of first arguments
(i've spoken a little (x, x) about how i think their first serious argument as a couple would go and the reasons behind it and i've decided to write it as well.)
part 1 / part 2
Steve knows that they’re gonna have to address it eventually. Knows that he specifically has to speak up about it one way or another if nothing gives.  
And the thing is, it didn’t even bother him as much in the beginning. Eddie Munson, though he possesses the biggest, kindest heart in all of Hawkins, has a certain mean streak to him that Steve Harrington can’t help but adore just like he adores every other aspect of his boyfriend. Hell, it even facilitated their bonding and to this day they have the most fun bitching about everything and nothing. Eddie does not typically cross any lines, not with their circle of friends and family, and definitely not with Steve. But there is a certain way he acts and talks about ‘normie’ things that makes Steve wonder if he even notices that he’s belittling Steve’s interests in the process, too.  
Steve tries to attribute it to the persona Eddie continues to uphold even now. Understands that Eddie who’s always had to fight tooth and nail to have anything good for himself, will naturally have strong opinions about things. Much to Steve’s chagrin, the man literally has a special doctrine with a special set of beliefs he’s spent years developing. He thought it was a joke the first time Eddie mentioned it in the Upside Down, but the more he got to know the metalhead, the more he realized the opposite was true. Steve’s also understanding on the account that this is Eddie’s first proper relationship and that it might take him extra time to accept Steve. 
However, seasons change but this - this doesn’t. And Steve didn’t mean to let it accumulate and fester into something ugly. Which is why he himself wasn’t expecting for the smallest push, the slightest wrong move from Eddie to make him react so strongly. Because that’s not what Steve Harrington does. He is the babysitter with the patience of a saint. Always physically and emotionally available for others. He is the one everyone in their makeshift family turns to, trusting him to keep a cool head. 
But without even fully noticing, the emotional baggage piles up over time until one day the impact of all these occurrences comes crashing down on Steve’s head in one mighty swoop. Nothing particularly dramatic happens. Eddie isn’t mean. It’s the upshot of months and months of build-up. Of holding his tongue one too many times. It’s how he’s reached a point where he can’t look at Eddie and not think about all the things he wishes he could say and share with him. And it’s the way Eddie doesn’t notice any of it. It’s the way he sighs and groans even when it’s Wayne watching a football match with Steve. It’s the way he doesn’t even pretend to be interested when Steve talks about anything sports related. It’s the way he’ll still have something to say about jocks when Lucas and Steve are practicing or talking basketball together even if he did apologize to Lucas for not rescheduling Hellfire that one time. It’s these and dozens of other Eddie quips that Steve initially found totally harmless and endearing even until they started getting to him.
And it’s not something big that sets him off either. And maybe that’s part of the reason why something so small sets him off. It’s like he didn’t even deserve a bigger response from his own boyfriend. So when he suggests, off handed and already braced for an unenthusiastic or teasing maybe another time, Stevie, if they could watch Grease together, and Eddie just made a face like Steve had suggested something ridiculous and then continued going through his tapes as if Steve hasn’t even spoken, Steve finally loses it. 
Lose. Loser. Person who loses things. In this particular moment, Steve loses his cool. All the years of self-work and reinventing his image as a bat-yielding protector with nerves of steel gone in the blink of an eye. 
Because one moment he’s sitting next to his boyfriend, suggesting they watch something he likes for a change, next he’s freezing up, feeling as if someone’s gone through him with an apple-corer from head to toe and left him hollow. Because Eddie doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at him, when he dismisses Steve. And Steve hates when Eddie bursts into spontaneous speeches to convince him why his choices are so much more stimulating and superior, but that’s at least some effort, compared to this disinterested rejection. 
And Steve knows that it’s not a big thing. If you put it on the foreground of everything they’ve been through and everything Eddie’s done for him, and everything he’s done for Eddie, it’s not big. It would barely come across as a blip in the grander picture of things. But Steve’s only twenty and whatever built up maturity he’s had in store for occasions like this, expire instantaneously. Because he’s only twenty and he’s never had anyone but his one best friend validate his tastes and past and present selves and he wants sympathy for the hollowness he’s been feeling because of the only other person he’s decided to let in. Steve’s only twenty and he is upset that Eddie Munson is ready to die for him in a parallel universe full of monsters, but won’t brave through a movie Steve likes. 
Self-indulgent loser. 
“Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie’s saying and rubbing his face irritatedly, which is not a good sign. “Are you serious, Harrington?” not Steve or Stevie or sweetheart or baby or any of the hundreds of nicknames he has for Steve. Which is never a good sign. “You’re seriously throwing a fit over fucking Grease? Fine. Let’s watch it then.”
When Eddie puts it that way, it does genuinely make Steve wonder if the hollowness came before Eddie after all. Maybe he’s always been a hollow bastard and he’s trying to take it out on his boyfriend instead. 
“It’s not just over fucking Grease.” Steve says, parroting Eddie’s tone, knowing that it will make him angrier and doing it anyway. “And it’s not just today. It’s every time, Eddie. Every time it’s about a movie I like or a song I want to listen to or an interest I have, you act like it’s the biggest nuisance in the world.” 
Eddie’s jaw tenses and his eyes narrow. Steve knows that Eddie does not take to anything shaped even vaguely as accusations well, especially when he’s strongly convinced himself of the opposite. And the kicker is that Eddie does care about him. Quite a lot, in fact, which is why it doesn’t make sense when Eddie keeps shooting him down like this. 
“Is this still about that baseball game I missed?” Eddie asks, exasperated. “I told you we were performing -”
“It was a basketball match, Eddie. This. This is the problem. I go out of my way to understand all the nerd games you play and try listening to your metal bands even if they make my head hurt -”
“Oh, sorry, your highness, I didn’t know that our relationship was transactional like that.” Eddie interrupts with a hiss and Steve is taken aback because Eddie never talks to him like that. Not even when he’s angry. Not even before they got together. “And for the record I never asked you to do any of it! And I didn’t know you’ve apparently been keeping track of the things you do for me.”
Fuck, how did this conversation go so wrong? Eddie’s on full defense now and Steve knows he has no chance of bringing this exchange back to anything remotely pleasant. 
“That’s not what I’m saying. You know, it’s not.” Steve says, all anger drained out of him. He just feels tired and sad.  “I do it because I want to, because it matters to you, so it’s fun for me, too. That’s what matters to me.” 
“Of course it does.” Eddie says in a sweet voice that’s dripping with sarcasm. Steve feels his face heat with shame in response. He can’t help it.  “‘Cause you’re the perfect golden boy and lowly me, can never hope to live up to your high standards.”
Steve gapes at him in disbelief. 
“My standards?” he bursts, “Eddie I can’t even mention my morning jogs to you without expecting some lecture on ‘conformity’ or ‘jock habits’. It’s a little difficult to have high standards when your boyfriend always goes on tangents about hating the things you like. What about your standards? Are you sure you even like me?”
The question rips from Steve’s tongue all too easily for it to have been a mere means of gaining an upper hand in the argument. It’s only after Steve’s asked it that the following relief makes him realize that it is a legitimate fear of his. That at this rate, one day Eddie’s going to be making revisions in his Munson Doctrine, or whatever it is he does, and find that Steve Harrington is not compatible with any of his ideologies after all. And Steve, who entered this relationship already more than half-way in love with Eddie, does not think he’ll be able to take a rejection like that.  
Steve’s relief is short-lived, and soon replaced with an impending sense of doom. He half expected Eddie to come up with a sharp remark of his own in response or verbally cut him down, but Eddie does neither. His mouth is hanging open in surprise and physically he looks as if Steve’s just delivered him a punch in the gut. 
It hurts to look at him, for more reasons than the ones they’ve been arguing over and Steve just can’t. He fears that if he stays in the room a moment longer, he’s gonna make it all worse, so he turns around and flees. 
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ryo-apologist · 21 days
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Camboy! Shigaraki
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Shigaraki Tomura x Reader
CW: Smut, Minors DNI, I will block your ass. Exhibitionism, being filmed, spanking with a toy, nipple play, degradation.
AN: I tried to keep it pretty GN, if I missed something let me know. Because of this, I don't mention a hole specifically, so use your imaginations <3
~Darling XOXO
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who remains faceless the entire time he's on camera. He's the leader of an entire army, he can't have his entire being called into question because he likes the attention.
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who started this whole thing because he saw far uglier men on porn sites raking in hundreds of thousands of yen and for what? He knows he's better looking than at least half of them, and who ever complains about extra money?
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who holds that ideology but really, he loves the attention. He's such an attention slut that you throw enough money at him on stream and he'll do anything.
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who loves edging himself on stream because it's just a special kind of torture. Stroking up and down the shaft of his cock and watching it twitch with ever drag of his hand. Thumbing over the head just to collect the bulb of pre-cum already dripping out only to slather it in a slow circle and watch as the light sheens off of it. Reaching his other hand to squeeze his own balls because it feels so good and this is for him and him alone. Everyone watching is lucky that they get to experience such a thing.
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who is originally adamant on not bringing you on until Dabi makes a comment about how much more viewers money two person streams bring in. While Dabi was talking about two women streams, Shigaraki is already taking this idea and running with it.
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who teases the idea on stream for weeks just to garner his audience's opinions. He watches as the numbers start rolling in when he starts moaning about fucking you're tight little hole and leaving you a dripping mess for their pleasure.
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who reads every single comment he gets, about how people are blowing their loads to just the thought of watching anyone get fucked by his cock, whether it's them or not. People volunteering themselves, even if he knows nobody will ever reach your level.
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who's disgusted by the idea at first, but soon realizes what this mean. This isn't just a way to make money, or get all the attention he was deprived of as a child, no.
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who realizes this is a way to stake a claim. This is a way to absolute ruin his little whore in all the ways he's ever dreamed of and to send a message to everyone who's debauched enough to lose their shit over him of all people.
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who knows this will be a message that he's better than them in every single way. He has an army, he's the most wanted villain in Japan, he's dangerous and lethal, and yet he's still getting laid more than they are. That he has this perfect little cum sleeve waiting for him at the drop of a dime.
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who grows so hard at the thought on stream he's nearly breaking his thirty minute edging streak at the thought of absolutely wrecking you on camera and leaving you to moan his name for everyone to hear. Because he's the only one who gets to talk to you like this. He's the only one who gets to touch you like that. He's the only one who gets to fuck you and leave your whole gaping for his cock and his cock alone, after all, he's worked so hard to carve out a spot in you for his dick alone. For him to fuck and sully and leave flooded with his cum.
☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who doesn't need much more convincing after that.
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Your head hurts.
His fingers are threading so close to the roots of your hair that a small part of your brain is firing off a number of warning signs that he could kill you then and there. The red flags are numbed and buzzed out by the euphoria of simply having him there. You can barely find yourself caring about his hands when the delicious stretch of his cock is filling you all over again. When the sound of his balls clapping against your ass cheeks is ringing in your ears over and over again.
When your eyes are focused on the lens of the camera in front of you. The red light is haunting in the sense that you know exactly what's being broadcasting. An audience of thousands, maybe more, is watching you get your back blown out with heavy drops of cum already dripping down your thighs.
Your back is arched nice and pretty for Tomura, with his one hand pinning you by your head and the other is too busy holding your hips, the only thing saving your life being the arch of his own pinkies to keep them from touching your delicate flesh. Sweat is coating your skin in an uncomfortable layer, but you can't even find it in yourself to care.
There's a chime and the sound effect of coins falling, and you whine out as the vibrators taped to your nipples light up once again. They buzz happily against your sensitive nubs and your entire body scrunches as you keen and shudder. The hand in your hair pulls slightly in a warning.
"Naughty slut." He hisses, low and deep and it sends your entire nervous system into a tizzy. "Gonna cum? I didn't say you could do that."
"'m sorry-" You gasp out, fingers tightening their gasp on the sheets beneath you. "Not gonna cum." You swear thought you can feel that neither of you truly believe that.
Tomura grants you a sliver of relief and stops moving.
The hand on your hip leaves and you're almost tempted to look back, but that's against the rules. So you don't.
You do let out a yelp of shock, or maybe pain, as the stiff surface of his paddle rockets against your awaiting ass cheek. You groan and clench and you can hear Tomura let out his own noise as the paddle lowers to rest it's cool face on the burning flesh of your ass.
"That's my good cum sleeve."
There's another chime and the returning noise of coins falling. The vibrators you hadn't even noticed had turned off come to life again. The paddle swings and your entire body clenches as euphoria runs through your veins, quickly followed by the shame of disobedience which ruins your orgasm before it can even finish.
Right after you feel the rush of warmth as another load of cum fills you more than you thought possible.
Another chime has you crying out in agonized glee.
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