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Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh
𝙭𝙭𝙭𝙞𝙭. 𝙞'𝙢 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙨𝙚
! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !
「Contents List」 「Act 1」 「© Jan 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」
Don’t ever let Jisung be accused of slacking. Dude eats ass like it’s emergency prescription.
Minho trembles with the heat of it; Jisung’s earnest prodding and gentle lapping almost reverential as it sends shockwaves of delight straight to the elder’s leaking, rigid cock.
The addition of a finger comes without warning; Minho shrieks, Jisung laughs.
“Sorry. Keen.”
Minho curses. “Fuck— Warn me next time.”
“Next time?”
“Shut up.”
Jisung giggles, but it quickly devolves to a whine of want when his digit is sucked in greedily. Doesn’t burn as much as Minho thought it would. Makes him want to test the limits of what he can take. For Jisung, he’d take it all. Everything.
“Oh, God—” A sweet spot touched upon and Jisung glows with pride, watching Minho through the mirror.
“Fuck yeah.” He grins.
“So smug— Alright, enough. I’m ready.”
Jisung's grin disappears. “Oh, shit. You sure?”
“Yes, Jisung, I'm sure I'm ready for you to fuck me.”
“Alright. Are you— Is right here okay?”
“Please—”
“Okay, damn.” Jisung scrambles to his feet, mutters something about impatient divas and kicks his jeans and boxers off. He caresses and kisses Minho’s ass, positions himself just so, one hand spreading the man bent over as the other guides his cock. Minho holds his breath, pulse roaring in his ears.
A healthy helping of the rapper’s spit serves as decent enough lubrication— Minho glows knowing how raw he’ll be tomorrow. When the initial breach gives way to slow, slick penetration, Minho feels the tether of his lifeline thinning, stretching, fraying. His hands slip against the mirror; he does his best to hold position as Jisung sets a firm pace. Through the glass he sees how Jisung draws tight, all delicious abs and muscle and the pretty veins in his throat, his tan complexion deep with lustful heat.
“Fuck, hyung— So tight, you’re insane, you feel so— God, I’m going to bust, like, immediately—”
Minho giggles breathlessly. “If you weren’t so big I wouldn’t feel so small.”
Jisung groans. “Hngg, Jesus. No more talking. Talking is banned.”
“Better fuck me then, J One.”
It’s not a challenge, but it’s taken as one regardless, which only speaks to Jisung’s enthusiasm. Minho hopes the soundproofing does enough to dampen his listless wails of delight as Jisung’s confidence bounds and he pounds him, holding him by curve of hips to drive deep and fast, each stroke more salacious by the continuous spit he thinks to contribute in dribbles between his sighs and grunts. Minho imagines how he must look; a dripping mess. Pink and puffy. Like a cheap whore good for endless reuse.
His clammy hands slip again on a harsh thrust; Jisung guides him upright, presses his chest against the steamed glass and hooks Minho’s leg up by crook of knee, the swell of his bicep throbbing with the effort. Minho can see him better now. Fuck, he can finally see him.
“On me, baby.” Jisung pants in his ear. “Lean on me.”
Minho’s head falls back to Jisung’s shoulder, his form squashed against the glass but secure with Jisung’s arms around him— he’s surprisingly sturdy for his size.
“Yeah... just like that. Take me so well, hyung—”
“Thought talking was— fuck—I thought it was banned—”
Jisung laughs, husky and as smooth as gloopy, sun-warmed honey. “I’m an outlaw.”
“A demon.”
“I’ll take that.” The slap of skin slows. Minho feels it inside him; the swell and the hardening. Wishes he could live with it always. “Fuck, I can’t—” Jisung hisses, pulls Minho’s hips from the wall to create room enough to reach around and strip his cock with a sweaty hand.
White spots light behind Minho’s eyes as he comes all over the mirror with a pathetically broken whine. Jisung sharply withdraws, comes on Minho’s skin hot and fast, so substantial a load it gathers and runs in creamy rivulets down the elder’s body. Snail trails, Minho thinks. How weird would it be to get them tattooed on?
In the cramped and seldom used shower facility—a dingy wet room Minho only resorts to when cases of extreme exertion make the bus ride home in sweaty clothes an unthinkable fate—Jisung cleans Minho.
He’s quiet. Observant. Watches the suds as they glide over Minho’s chest and arms. It’s somehow more intimate than the sex.
“You’re not about to ask me to marry you, right?” Minho asks.
Jisung huffs a laugh. “Probably not.”
Probably.
“Was kind of hoping you’d want to be my boyfriend first?”
Jisung’s tired voice echoes off the cold tiles. Minho hears him thrice, and his heart lurches dangerously. It wants out. It wants in. It wants...
He laughs.
“You want me to join team Han? Do they have shirts yet?”
“Man, come on.” Jisung turns away.
“No, wait—” Minho reaches for him. Drags him back. “Sorry. Mockery is my default. I’m sorry.”
Jisung pouts.
“I...”
He’s diving off the deep end. Feels the board springing away from his feet, gravity protesting to pull him back down, his skin tightening against the inertia. Maybe this is what falling is supposed to feel like.
“I would love to be your third partner in this incestuous polyamorous nightmare we find ourselves trapped in, Han Jisung.”
The rapper grins. Smacks Minho with a wet kiss that pushes him back into the shower’s spray.
“You know this can only all end in tears, right?” Minho later says.
Jisung hums sagely.
“Or a metric fuck-ton of cum.”
𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ♡ 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤-𝙛𝙞 ♡
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