#AND STRETCHING IN THE NEXT SCENE HE'S IN | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 8 months ago

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Hope They Catch Us - G.S.

Synopsis. When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Pairing. Actor! Gojo Satoru x Co-Star! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, co-stars to lovers, unprotected, oral (fem receiving) slight exhíbitionism (stuff with cameras), marking, praise, Satoru is actually down BAD, cúmplay, tabloids, lowkey fluffy at the end, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k

A/N. YA GIRL IS BACKKKK ;D Also happy belated three months to this blog hehehe.

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---

You hated him. Oh, how you hated him. All because of a red-hot rivalry that had sparked ever since the two of you took the industry by storm. And everyone from Hollywood’s bigshots to your adoring fans knew that no matter where Gojo Satoru goes, you were sure to never be within a ten-mile radius.

Well, usually.

“I…shit- I’m in love with you.”

Because avoiding Gojo like a plague really isn’t saying much when said plague was currently sitting right next to you. Eyes boring into yours, signature smirk plastered on his face while he rattles off a disgustingly sweet confession - all on the set of your latest movie.

Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, your co-star.

And to add insult to injury, this wasn’t just any movie - it was only set to be the biggest romance film of the summer. So not only did you hate to tolerate Gojo, you had to pretend to be in love with him.

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. If only the check wasn’t as tempting as it was, you think he would’ve successfully driven you to an aneurysm already. Especially considering that the scene tomorrow was-

“CUT!”

That snaps you out of your little reverie, bringing you back to the still very ongoing film shooting. You risk a glance at the disgruntled director, cheeks aching from the sappy fake smile you had to hold for this scene.

“Something wrong?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. You knew exactly what was wrong. And one look at Gojo - dressed to the nines and huffing sulkily at being interrupted in the middle of his monologue - told you that he did as well.

“It just doesn’t feel real.” The director shuffles his script, voice dropping to a sigh at your confused gazes. “The spark, it doesn't feel real.”

“What?” you silently thank your years of acting for keeping your voice steady. You squirm in your seat the longer the silence stretches. This cozy little café they rented out too tight, Gojo’s fingers intertwined with yours too hot. Too soft.

“C’mon. You are in the perfect romantic set-up.” the other man gestures wearily at the café, at the dim-lighting and the proximity of your seats. “So why do you two look like you want to just- strangle each other?”

“Ooo kinky~”

It’s the first time Gojo’s spoken up since the scene was ended early and honestly that was enough to have you fulfilling the director’s suspicions.

“That.” you give him a pointed stare. “That is probably why.”

And that just draws out such an infuriatingly light chuckle from Gojo, as he sprawls all over his chair with the audacity of someone that owned this entire set. “Lighten up. You’ve told us, n’ in the next take I’ll fix it. Easy peasy.”

If only it was that “easy peasy”. The director was anything but satisfied, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “It’s not just me, even the public is worried whether your ‘feud’ will get in the way of such intimate scenes. You-” he jabs a finger your way. “-better pretend like you want to kiss him senseless and you-” whirling now to Gojo. “-better act like you’ve wanted nothing more for years- Not to mention tomorrow’s sex scene-”

Ah, right. The sex scene.

How could you forget? It might not be a walk in the park to giggle and make heart-eyes at Gojo, but to actually pretend to have sex with him? All on camera? Curse whoever wrote this damn script. You could’ve almost laughed at the universe’s absolutely awful sense of humor if it hadn’t been for your paycheck - and the next words that tumble out of Gojo’s pretty mouth.

“We’ll ace it, you just watch.”

You hurriedly snap your eyes to meet Gojo’s, sending him a look that says “behave”, in a way that very much makes him not want to. Twinkling with such dangerous mischief that makes your stomach flip as he hums, “Or- I’ll ace it.”

God, was it a battle to remain professional. The only thing stopping you from snapping back being the way he squeezes your hand mockingly reassuringly - to which you send him a death grip back, of course.

“Oh? Care to elaborate, Mr. Gojo?” the director asks, eyes flitting between the two of you. And you can’t even laugh at the rest of the staff for almost toppling out of their seats in an attempt to hear his answer - because you are, too. Mind whirling as you lean closer, wondering just what nonsense would come out of Gojo’s mouth.

“Well, you could say…” he trails off suspensefully, like the smug bastard he is. Looking right in your eyes as he flashes an unfairly pretty smile your way. “I’m irresistible like that.”

Exactly the type of nonsense that would come out of Gojo Satoru, of course. And one glance at the director told you he was thinking the same thing. He was going to be the death of you. You can’t help but breathe out shrilly, “You fucking-”

“My apologies, director, but our leads have a scheduled interview soon. Rest assured, we will be early on set for filming tomorrow.”

You were definitely giving Nanami a raise after this.

Because if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on his grace already - and you let him know. A little over twenty times, actually, as the both of you are hastily escorted away from the set for an “emergency interview”.

It was a flimsy excuse, you both knew, but Nanami hadn’t exactly felt like cleaning up a crime scene today. Instead, settling for a swift escape, the director calling out after you two to “Look like you’re gonna rip the clothes off each other tomorrow.”

Rip the clothes off each other, huh?

With the way things were going, you couldn’t be surprised if you ripped him a new-

“C’mon, sweetheart~” Gojo gets out through giggles, that familiar cackle echoing in the narrow hallway leading to your trailer. “Y’know I was just having a little fun with that ol’ man.”

He saunters unhurriedly behind your brisk pace, easily blocking the way you swing the door shut in his face. Letting it shut with such infuriatingly smooth nonchalance.

“Fun?” you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger right in the middle of his sculpted chest.“Do you even realize the mess you could’ve made?”

“Easy there, m’not insured for these pecs just yet.” Gojo clasps your hands together. Some strange little part of your skin burning at the touch in- anger? Something else? But you don’t think too hard about it, because he’s plowing on, “Besides, a little teasing never hurt anyone.”

Such a shame he was so pretty with the stupidest mouth.

“A little teasing? You practically declared to everyone in that room that we’re gonna fuck this up.” you move to pull him down by the collar instead, clearly unimpressed.

But oh you shouldn’t have done that - because he’s so close now. Too close. Hot breath fanning your face, looking so smug as he murmurs unrepentantly, “Do you?” Chuckling lightly at your little head tilt, “Do you think we’ll fuck it up?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep it all together. “...No.”

“Exactly. We’re good then.” he winks.

“No. We’re not fucking ‘good’.” you grit out. Wondering exactly how difficult it might be to bother the director into completely recasting the male lead for the movie. Looking up at that million dollar smile and- yeah, it would be very difficult. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why they cast you.”

“My good looks? My charisma? The way I’m the-” he trails off with a sigh at your glare. “Well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, sweetheart.”

“At least I can act and-.”

He whines dramatically, cutting off your rant. “Me too!”

This conversation was so ridiculous - but, hey, the great Gojo Satoru always did bring out the worst parts of you.

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Then why are you so stiff when acting like you’re in love with me?”

Somehow, that makes Gojo shut up. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - gasping out a strangled little, “B-because- well-” And if you didn’t know any better you’d say that was a light blush dusting his ears.

Only for a split-second, though, because he’s grabbing you gently by your shoulders, more seriously than you’d ever seen him. “Fine. Listen, we both want the same thing right? To have pretend-sex and ace this film to win like five Oscars?”

And maybe at the heat of his newfound proximity, maybe at the way he was looking at you so goddamn intensely - you feel something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Swallowing thickly, you manage to get out, “I’ll be the one winning the Oscars...but yes.”

Gojo’s gaze roams all over you - from the quirk of your eyebrow to the dress hugging you so sinfully tight. “Then we’ll do it. Ace the scene.”

Traitorously, a shiver runs down your spine. And because the universe loves to play jokes on you, Gojo notices - of course, he does. Eyes lighting up with amusement and something you really didn’t want to decipher as you blink up questioningly, “How?”

“Method acting, silly.” he rolls his eyes, as if he wasn’t implying something that wasn’t seen in even the cheesiest of romcoms. “Think of it as running lines.”

If there was ever a moment where your life flashed behind your eyes then this just might be it.

“You-” you gulp, so hot all over. “You better shut the fuck up and pray your face is insured because-”

At this, Gojo throws his head back and laughs - loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say about keeping his voice down so as not to let anyone outside hear, but shit you were mesmerized. Damn, a weird little part of you kind of understood why directors loved him onscreen.

“Feisty,” he muses. “But how can I shut the fuck up when they’re second-guessing the two best actors in the game?”

“The best? Me, maybe.” you lean in closer, mouth as bitchy as ever - even when you’re so obviously crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. And he knew that. “But not you.”

“Well, only way to find out is with tomorrow’s scene, right, sweetheart?”

He drove you mad - everything from his heady cologne, to the way that overpriced button-up clung to him like second skin. But, don’t pull away - how could you? Not when he inches closer ever-so-slightly. Not when he lets those overpriced glasses slide down his nose, eyes locked so heavily on you.

Fighting to keep your words steady, “There’s nothing special about that scene, just fake moan in front of the camera, right? We don’t need any…‘method acting’.”

Gojo only raises a brow in amusement, lips curling into a grin that really makes you too aware of his little dimple by the corner. “Then why…” His eyes flicker down from his hands, searing on your shoulders, to yours - still grabbing his collar, just grazing the soft skin of his neck. Not pulling away. “...can’t you let go of me, sweetheart?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you, you really don’t give a fuck. The only thing running through your mind being that shit this was Gojo bane-of-your-existence Satoru, and he tasted so…sweet. Like those cheap lollipops he often snuck on-set. Strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly he’s pulling away mere millimeters. Whispering hotly, absolutely dripping with something dangerous, “Sooo, is that a ‘yes’ to running lines?”

“Ugh, shut up.” your lips ghost his. “And just fucking kiss me.”

And, well, Gojo doesn’t have to be asked twice. Because it only takes a split second for his lips to find yours again.

Yeah, definitely strawberry lollipops.

You hadn’t filmed any of the kissing scenes just yet, but damn you didn’t expect him to be so hot and messy - like he was drunk off of you. Licking at the seam of your candied lips, groaning softly like he wanted more more more-

“Sh-shit, Goj-”

“Call me ‘Satoru’ when we’re fucking.” he cuts you off. “Or, my bad. When we’re ‘running lines’.”

Shameless. Though, you guess you weren’t any better - not as you press yourself closer running your hands all over his sinfully thin shirt, feeling every bump and curve of his abs. “You talk too much, Toru.” you hiss, muffled against his lips.

Oh that cute lil’ nickname had all the blood rushing to Satoru’s cock, you were so unfair.

“You little minx.” Like a little punishment, he’s biting down on your bottom lip, tugging lightly at your surprised squeal. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Hmm, I doubt it.”

And then your back is hitting the couch before you can react, bouncing lightly at the sheer force. And you’re so swept up in him - the way he hovers over you, arms looping around your waist, his knee wedging between your legs - that it almost hurts for you to pull away.

“Patience.” you huff out a laugh at Satoru’s disappointed whine, eyeing those pretty pink lips mere inches away from you. You just wanted them on yours. So badly. But no, there was something more important you had to do right now. “Jus’ thought we should record our little rehearsal, whaddaya think?”

“Record it?”

“Record it.”

“Record it, hmmm?” he’s whispering, more to himself than you. Fumbling with the zipper of your dress. “So you’re sayin’ we tape it, let the camera see how pretty you look all fallin’ apart f’me.” Kissing down your neck, letting the flimsy fabric fall down, “N’ then we improve for the pretend sex. Shut all those snobby directors up by giving them the best fucking sex scene they’ve ever seen.”

“Y-yes?” you mutter, as he starts tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Unless-”

“Fine by me.”

The fabric hits the floor before you even realize what’s happening. Head spinning too much from the idea of being fucked on camera - by Satoru of all people, it takes you a second to realize that this bastard fucking ripped your dress off.

“You probably broke-”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” muffled, as he kisses down your navel, blindly fumbling with his phone.

“It was expensive.”

With an impatient sigh, Satoru sets the camera up on the coffee table beside the couch. “Five new ones.” Angling it just right to perfectly capture you - in all your disheveled, horny glory, and Satoru, smugly seating himself between your thighs.

“Ready?” he asks, finger hovering over that damn red button.

Well, it’s just for rehearsal, right? Right?

“Do it.” you manage to get out, voice getting stuck in your throat at the faint ding! that rings throughout the heady room. “For my Oscars?”

“For my Oscars. N’the camera’s gonna know.”

And whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies when he rocks his hip against yours, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. Rock-hard and so damp with precum already - so big that any and all rational thinking flies out the window.

Which is probably why you’re letting out such a pretty gasp, ‘S-Satoru, I want-“

“What?” And Satoru only flashes you a devilish grin, hands spreading your legs as far as they’d go on the couch. “This?”

He licks a long, long stripe up your inner thigh, all the way till he just meets the hem of your drenched panties. Teasing. So hot and depraved in the way he breathes in your scent.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” Satoru grunts, looking down in awe at the damp fabric, so flimsy and see-through with your sweet juices. You slick beading through so sloppily, just a hint of the state you were in. “You don’t know how you drive me mad.”

Rip!

He’s so fucking starved that he’s just tearing your poor panties clean off. Throwing them behind him to God-knows-where before spreading your swollen folds with his thumb, showing off just how wet you were for him.

“You’re a tease.”

“And you’re fucking addictive. Look how fuckin’ wet you are. For who, huh?” he slurs, breath hot against your cunt. Circling your entrance just barely with his fingertip, teasing you like he was addicted to those frustrated moans coming out of your pretty lips.

“S’for you-” you whine, “All for you, Satoru.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

And that’s all that needs to be said before he’s burying himself nose-deep. Drunk off your pussy as he licks long, languid movements. And it wasn’t enough - never might be, actually, because only one taste and Satoru was like a man possessed.

Bullying his tongue between your folds, just dipping into your sloppy hole in a way that had your slick smearing all over his pretty face. Letting out such deep groans that had you clenching around his hot tongue.

Shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut up the great Gojo Satoru then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. Because for one in his life, Satoru’s too entranced with something else to run his mouth, so fucking satisfied between your thighs.

“Fuck- hah- think I like you better w-when hngh- you’re like this, Toru.” you purr, breath hitching as he bullies his tongue between your folds.

Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius, because that only sets him off more.

And suddenly Satoru’s pulling your body closer onto his hot mouth, like you were weighless. Pushing himself so impossibly closer while he makes out deeper with your wet cunt.

“Ah! Hngh- Satoru-” you keen, tugging at his soft locks. As delirious as Satoru was pussydrunk. Drinking in all your cute lil’ whines of his name, angling your hips to lick all over like he couldn’t decide between fucking your sloppy hole or toying with your poor, ravaged clit.

“Mhm?” he murmurs, the vibrations making you squeal. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “Ya like this?” Stretching you out on his tongue, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over- “Like when I tonguefuck your pretty pussy?”

“Ngh- love it- s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Satoru’s tongue.

And oh Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind being on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. “Tell the camera too, sweetheart. Practice how you’ll come around my tongue.”

Those words send a jolt up your spine - or maybe it was the way Satoru was sucking harshly on your clit. “F-fuck off.”

“Mhmmm, n’ this is why I’m the better actor..”

Ugh, this fucker. And with that you fight to turn your head - looking right in the camera. Feeling so fucking lewd as you let out such pornographic moans.

“Yeah- feel s’good.” you whimper, “Wanted this for so long, ever since I first saw- ngh- you-”

And shit were you so fucking evil - at least warn a guy! Because that has Satoru’s heart lurching, almost jumping up from between your legs before it hits him with a pang - ah, right, you were just quoting your character’s lines. Of course.

Well, two can play that game.

“Yeah?” he mutters into your folds. Two fingers plunging knuckle-deep in your pussy, massaging your plushy walls. Roaming around for that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so deliciously. “Can’t believe I waited s’fucking long. Y’know how hard it was to hold back? With you wearing all those slutty skirts f’me?”

Your body is jerking violently, both at his - practiced - words, and the way he was devouring you like you were his favorite meal. His favorite taste.

So eager and in-character with the way he was setting such a dizzying pace on your poor cunt. Slick trailing down from his fingers, all the way to his wrist. So sloppy and- Pressing down. Hard. “Found it.”

And you can only sit there and take it, such cute little whines of Satoru’s name leaving you as he leaves no mercy. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper, maddening. Aching as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over. And you were so-

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Truthfully, he didn’t even have to ask - if the way you were trembling and squeezing so fucking tightly around him was anything to go by. “Go on darling. scream my name. Show off f’the camera like you do best.”

“Sh-shit. Toru- fuck yes-” you’ve got an iron-tight grip on his hair now, pulling and angling him as you pleased for more. Barely able to let out those strained lil’ moans, definitely not with the way he’s dragging your sloppy pussy all over his face. Fingers cramping up from how rough he was going - but still not stopping.

“Go on. Cum f’me.”

And then you are. Letting out such a teary, strangled moan of Satoru’s name as you cum all over his face.

And it’s not just for the camera either - because this orgasm is probably the best one you’ve had in a while. So hard that you don’t even realize you’re arching and rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Using him.

And he doesn’t stop you. Why would he? You were so pretty falling apart all because of him. He wishes he could see this more often…

“S-Satoru.” you mewl, overstimulated. Jolting with each flick of his tongue, trying to close your legs but you can’t - he won’t let you. Greedily lapping up all your sweet juices, everything that you give him.

“Nope.” he drawls, finally pulling away, delicate strings of your slick snapping as he does. Looking so fucking drunk off of you that it makes your cunt quiver exhaustedly. “C’mon now, sweetheart, you were s’pposed to say my character’s name. S’how the scene goes.”

Oh. Shit, you got too caught up. But one look at Satoru - eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, your juices glistening all over the bottom half of his face so prettily - tells you he was much the same.

“Well…” you huff, voice shot. “According to the script you were supposed to stuff that-” pointedly eyeing the achingly hard cock straining his pants, “-in my mouth first before eating me out. So here we are.”

With a chuckle, he rises slowly. “Touché.” Looking you straight in the eyes - and probably into your very soul - as he pops his fingers into his mouth. One by one. Groaning at the taste of your sweet sweet juices while he sucks them clean. “But I don’t think I’d last one second with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

And it almost makes you want to tease him for it - one of Hollywood’s biggest It Boys but you can’t handle a lil’ blowjob? But all of that gets stuck in your throat as Satoru starts peeling off his shirt ever-so-slowly.

Shit, you think. All mouthwatering curves and dips, all the way from his toned, milky shoulders down, down, down to those neat tufts of white peeking out from the hem of his underwear. Sculpted like he was handcrafted so meticulously - a fucking masterpiece, you had to admit.

One that made you wish you took a longer look at all those shirtless magazine covers instead of throwing them out. One that had your thighs squeezing in such anticipation.

And Satoru seemed to be admiring you just the same, eyes locked on your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing - so ready for him. Distinctly aware of how pathetically needy you were being in front of the blinking camera, you crane your head to glance at it. Was it really capturing-

“Now now, first rule is to never look at the camera during this scene.” Only for Satoru to squish your cheeks together, forcing you into an embarrassing little pout as he turns you back to face him. “Look at me.”

And oh you can’t not look at him.

Especially when he tugs his pants down, just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, so fucking long and pretty. Smearing glossy precum all over his abs, flushed your favorite shade of pink, rock-hard and so so angry. Shit, he was so hard it looked like it hurt.

“Satoru…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his slutty waist to pull him closer. Only needier despite that little nagging voice wondering how the fuck you’d take his sheer size.

“Sweetheart?”

“I remember he didn’t do a lot of waiting in the script.”

And God were you right - but Satoru doesn’t think he could’ve kept this act of restraint up any longer even if you weren’t. Too impatient, too starved, his sanity dancing away from him with each second his fat cock wasn’t stuffed inside your pretty cunt.

“Mhm.” he purrs, one hand reaching down to drag his fat head up and down your slit. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the way your lip wobbles in frustration. Up and down up and up and- “You’re right.”

And then it’s like something snaps.

Because it only takes a split-second for Satoru to start splitting you apart on his massive cock. Big fat tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling that he was pushing all the way into your lungs.

“Sh-shit, s’fuckin’ tight-” he lets out a low grunt at the slight resistance, taking everything in him to not just fuck into your snug pussy and use you like his little plaything. “You gotta hah- relax, pretty girl.”

You needed to relax more - to breathe maybe, just something. You weren’t even in the right state to wonder whether that little nickname was in the script - and God was Satoru thankful for that. Because all you can think of is how you never imagined what the bane of your existence would look with his cock stuffed in your dripping cunt - but now that you’ve seen it, you think you’ll imagine it for many lonely nights to come.

“Hey, now. Don’t get camera-shy just yet.” Satoru gives your ass a playful smack. “After all, this is only the best- part-”

Each word is punctuated with shallow, mindless little thrust to fit himself inside your dripping pussy. Such cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips that he really can’t help but tease you a bit. Leering down at your fucked-out face with a smirk, “Or- my bad. Forgot such a scene would be hard for a rookie.”

Oh, did he know how to press your buttons just right.

Because immediately, you’re blinking away the delirious haze in your eyes, voice so adorably shaky - but determined - as you grit out, “Bring it on, you B-list wonder.”

That’s all that has to be said before he’s finally bottoming out inside you, mercilessly. Inch by fucking inch. You gasp as his twitching balls smack your ass so lewdly, feeling his veins beat in such a slutty lil’ thump! thump! thump! against your heavenly walls.

“T-Toru- big- ngh- too fuckin’ big. M’gonna break mpf-” his lips claim yours. Partially because it’s been way too long since he’s kissed your pretty lips, and partially because Satoru might just cum right then and there if he let you run your mouth.

So he lets his hips do the talking instead.

Cooing into your mouth at each little ah! ah! ah! every time he stuffed you full of his dick, quick, experimental thrusts to try and find that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so prettily.

“Sounds so beautiful, sweetheart.” rocking his hips faster into yours. So hard you were sure he’d leave marks. “No camera in the world can pick up how fuckin’ perfect ya are. Can’t ngh- pick up those cockdrunk lil’ heart eyes.” Angling your chin just so that your sinful expression is caught on camera, “Shit do ya even know you’re doing those? Might just make me lose it for real tomorrow. Might just make me sneak you off to the dressing rooms n’-” Manicured fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you in jagged, purposeful strokes. Hitting that one spot. Hard. “Fuck you all over again.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he smugly hits that magical spot over and over-

And it was so sloppy - so filthy with the way Satoru still had remnants of your slick all over his lips, matching the way you were soaking his cock. Fingers moving down to draw erratic little patterns on your clit, making it even messier.

Close - too close.

So, so desperate and debauched.

“C’mon. Show the camera. Tell the camera how much you love it.”

“Ngh- f-fuck you.”

“Oh? Who’s fucking who now?” he’s laughing at your absolutely wrecked state. You can feel Satoru twitch inside you as you mumble out such delirious little praises to the camera - were they coherent sentences? You’ll never know, because the next words that fall from his lips have your mind reeling.

“God, m’addicted to you, my girl.”

“That’s not- ah- in the script, Toru.” you hiss. Close.

“I know. And neither is that.” he leaves such uncharacteristically gentle kisses down your neck. Miles away from the relentless place on your poor, abused pussy, fucking you deeper and rougher every time despite already bottoming out. “Does it have to be?”

“Th-that doesn’t ngh- make sense.” you gasp into his open mouth.

“Doesn’t have to.”

Maybe it’s the way Satoru’s panting those words against your lips. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking right in your eyes while he says them - like it would kill him to pull away. Maybe even that fleeting little kiss he leaves against your lips.

Because before you know it, you’re cumming and cumming so hard that you wonder whether you’d make it out alive. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and take it, thighs quivering, Satoru’s names spilling from your lips in such broken little whines while he thrusts so sloppy. Once. Twice.

“Ah- this is gonna have me fallin’, huh?” And then he’s letting out such a low, muffled moan of your name, filling you up with rope after rope of his cum.

What?

It’s so messy - his cum overfilling your poor pussy, spilling out and coating his twitching balls. Shit, you can’t even worry about whether it would stain that overpriced couch below you. Not when Satoru’s whispering out sweet- lines from the script?

“Fuckin’ beautiful underneath me. Always was.” Hips still fucking into you - not even thinking at this point. “Always will be. Such a vision onscreen, sweetheart.” So thick and hot, and dribbling all the way down your legs with every movement.

And then Satoru’s lips are finding yours again, tasting so unfairly sweet while he drinks in all your cute breathless gasps. “Such a vision f’me.”

Those weren’t from the script either.

Something soft. Something scary. Something that has you looping your legs tighter around his waist, letting him collapse onto you. Pulling him closer, in fact, because now that you know the weight of his body on yours, it just felt so right.

It takes a moment of silence for you two to catch your breaths, the still rolling camera being the last thing on your minds. Neither willing to speak first, because shit Satoru might’ve gone to countless red carpets and film sets but this - you are what strips him away from all the glamor and fame. Until he was just, well, embarrassingly Satoru.

The Satoru that was now shifting shyly in your arms, trying to get up. “Uh- Hell of a way to run lines, huh? Better check the camera n’ see where to impro-”

He might be one of the biggest actors in modern Hollywood, but Satoru didn’t fool you - not one bit. So without a word, you’re tugging him back to rest against you. Heart lurching just a little bit as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Like a little hideaway - from the camera, from the world, hell, maybe even from you.

“Y’know,” he flinches ever-so-slightly at your teasing tone, giving you a playful bite. “I have one area of suggestion and it might just be that you’re too good at ‘running lines’.”

“...Good enough to win those five Oscars?”

“No.”

“Then guess I better prove it to ya, huh? Is the camera still on, sweetheart?”

Just then, some weird little part of you thinks that, hell, maybe you don’t hate Gojo Satoru after all.

Not anymore, at least.

---

The Enemies-To-Lovers Trope of The Century?! Hollywood’s Biggest Rivals Sport Matching Hickeys (And Smiles) On-Set of Upcoming Film.

Oops! Gojo Satoru's Phone Wallpaper Accidentally Exposed: Surprise, Surprise It’s His Leading Lady! More on Page 6.

“No Comment. Though, I Have Moved Trailers. Twice.” Anonymous Manager Speaks on Latest Movie Rumors.

Director Is All Smiles As He Raves About Upcoming Romance Movie. “Hell, If I Didn’t Know Any Better I’d Say They Were Really-”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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sugoroo · 1 month ago

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#MAKE HIM BEG (FOR THAT P☆SSY!)

ʚɞ summary. how the jjk men look when they beg for it. are they reluctant as they force the words out or pathetic as they whine for it? . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + sukuna.

warnings. fem!reader, pussydrunk men of course, oral (f receiving), masturbation, penetration (p in v), riding, mating press, sukunas inspired by that one scene in wolf of wall street yupp, 18+ mdni.

SATORU GOJO — BREAKS IN NO TIME!

satoru may spend a short while attempting to defy your orders to beg for what he wants, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with a petulant pout pushing at his lips.

but with you sitting there oh-so-temptingly next to him on the bed clad in nothing but a fuzzy pink nightgown and looking so painfully beautiful, god is it hard to keep up his childish stubbornness.

just look at it from his point of view for a moment... he's the strongest; he shouldn't have to plead with anyone for anything, right? hell, one could even argue that you should be the one begging him to lay his hands on you.

but if he's being completely honest with himself, he doesn't quite feel like the strongest whenever he's with you — no, it's the opposite, in fact... you make him weak.

weak enough that he's willing to throw caution to the wind and abandon his infamous prideful streak entirely to beg for you.

"please." satoru mumbles under his breath, like a child finally apologizing to their parent after being sent to the corner and thinking about what they've done for the appropriate amount of time.

"what was that, toru?" you hum teasingly, raising an eyebrow and stretching your leg out to poke his thigh with your recently pedicured foot. "i didn't quite hear you."

the white-haired man groans dramatically, peering over at you with his wide, uncovered cerulean eyes. he's needy; you can see it dancing clearly in his irises — but you're not about to let him off the hook that easily.

"can you say it again for me, hmm?" you prompt in a tone just dripping with exaggerated sweetness as you slowly drape your leg across his lap, relishing in the way his pale hands visibly twitch at his sides with the desire to touch it.

your boyfriend looks like he's mere moments away from lighting up a hollow purple as he fixes his stare upon your leg, refusing to look anywhere near your own eyes as he forces out another, more desperate, "please."

"good boy," you praise as a reward, watching with bemusement as satoru tries to cover up the way the two simple words affect him. but you know him too well, and the subtle squirm of his hips against your leg gives him away. "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

satoru grumbles a few retorts under his breath, but quickly loses his train of thought when you lift your leg from his lap, slowly spreading both limbs to expose the sheer panties you'd adorned especially for tonight.

"oh, baby," he groans from low in his throat, pupils dilating at an alarming speed as his tongue darts out to wet his suddenly chapped lips. "look at you..."

"just look?" you repeat cheekily, tilting your head to the side as you observe his completely transfixed reaction — it's almost laughable how easily you can break him down into a pathetic mess. "you don't wanna touch even after you begged so nicely for me?"

"n-no!" satoru shoots back without missing a beat, mop of messy white locks bobbing as he frantically shakes his head from side to side. "i wanna touch, pretty girl. i really wanna touch... can i?"

you barely have time to nod before your boyfriend is between your spread legs, effortlessly pushing them even further apart as he buries his head exactly where he wants it to be — right up against the slick crotch of your translucent underwear.

and he's utterly drunk on everything about your pussy in moments; the tempting scent of your gushing arousal that wafts through the material as he rubs his nose against it, the way the see-through fabric sticks to your skin and allows him a perfect view of your puffy folds.

"so gorgeous." satoru mutters reverently, lovesick eyes flicking up to meet yours as his freakishly long tongue lolls out to lick a slow, thorough stripe up the soiled front of your panties.

you're not sure who moans louder; him or you. all you do know is that it doesn't take long for his eager mouth to be directly over your cunt, ruined underwear tossed somewhere nearby without a second thought.

"y'should... make me work for it... more often, baby," he pants against you between obnoxious slurps and frequent groans of enjoyment at your saccharine flavour. "somehow, it makes this pretty pussy taste even sweeter."

SUGURU GETO — TURNS THE TABLES ON YOU!

suguru has no problem in indulging you if you want to switch things up in the bedroom every now and again. you want him to beg for you? sure, he can do that.

...because he knows that the roles will be reversed soon enough.

so when you pull him away from your gushy cunt by his hair after he's just spent the last few blissful hours down there coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your writhing body, he's waiting patiently for whatever you want to say.

"if you want to be inside me next... you have to beg for it," you say breathlessly, trailing your fingers from the back of his silky, loose hair down to the nape of his neck and squeezing. "can you do that for me, sugu?"

suguru pretends to consider it for a moment, tilting his head to the side and peering up at you with thoughtful violet eyes. after a few moments, he responds. "hmm... i see no reason why i can't."

your surprise is evident on your face at just how quickly he agreed — when you first decided you wanted to try this, you assumed it would take atleast a little bit of convincing to get him to go along with it.

...but apparently not.

"wow. um... just like that?" you chuckle in a soft puff of startled air, eyebrows raised as you watch him stand up from his knees and rest his large hands over your bare thighs.

"what? did you expect me to put up a fight or something, baby?" suguru purrs gently, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, hot breaths mingling together. "nah. my girl's pretty pussy is worth begging for, don't you think?"

you swallow thickly, his sultry words making a gush of arousal ooze onto the sheets beneath you as your eyes briefly flick down to his lips which are still swollen and shiny with your juices. "i wouldn't have asked you to if i didn't think so."

he releases a low, velvety laugh at this before slowly spreading your legs wider to make room for himself and crawling onto the mattress to settle between them.

suguru reaches down past the waistband of his grey sweatpants to wrap a tanned hand around his neglected cock, giving it a few pumps while his gaze stays fixed upon your glistening wetness.

and he just keeps doing this for a few long moments, making your body instinctively squirm around in need as you observe his ministrations with an air of impatience. "i-isn't this the part where you're meant to do the begging?" you force out, hoping your voice isn't too audibly uneven.

he simply smiles at this — a lilting, amused little smile that makes you feel like he might know something you don't. "i will, sweetheart. just getting myself ready first."

a few minutes pass, yet he still makes no move whatsoever to start pleading with you; and naturally, you're starting to become more and more restless, itching for something, anything to happen.

then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, suguru pushes both his sweats and boxers down in one fell swoop, instantly drawing your attention to his thick, veiny cock as it slaps against his toned abdomen, reddened tip angry and drooling from all the teasing he's been doing to it.

and you're so fixated on the sight before you that you hardly even notice when he slyly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his leaky cockhead around it in slow, infuriating circles.

"w-what are you doing, sugu?" you gasp, brows pinching in a mix of annoyance and pleasure at his deliberately un-coordinated movements; he's working you up on purpose... but why?

"nothing." suguru hums entirely innocently, blinking down at you with an air of nonchalance that doesn't fail to irk you.

for a while, silence falls between you as you both gaze intently at where your bodies are connected — so close to becoming one but not quite there yet.

and then, the somewhat tranquil moment is suddenly snapped into a thousand tiny pieces by the loud, wet slap! of your boyfriend's flushed tip slapping against your cunt.

and it makes you release a pitiful cry, needy hips instinctively bucking up against him in search of more friction. but he abruptly pulls away before your skin can touch again, still sporting that strange smile.

"you want something, pretty girl?" suguru croons in a deceptively sweet tone, reaching down to trail a slender finger down the supple skin of your tummy and relishing the way your hips buck again in response.

"y-yes," you whine pathetically, too desperate to be full of him to even process how this situation has somehow been turned completely on its head in mere minutes. "please, sugu... need you."

"thereee we go... who's the one begging now, hm?" he chuckles loudly, eery smile finally widening into the smug grin he's evidently been holding back this whole time. "see what i did there?"

"...i hate you."

"no you don't, baby."

and he's right; you don't. and when he distracts you by finally, finally beginning to ease himself inside your throbbing heat, you think maybe the tables being turned on you wasn't such a bad thing after all.

TOJI FUSHIGURO — YOU'LL HAVE TO WEAR HIM DOWN!

“—you want me to what?” toji grunts in response, a thick dark eyebrow raised in exasperation as he looks at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“you heard me perfectly fine, toji.” you huff with a small roll of your eyes. of course he isn't going to make this easy for you. he never does.

“you seriously want me to beg to fuck that needy little cunt of yours?” he scoffs loudly, jabbing a finger in the direction of your dripping core as if to prove his point. “i think you should be the one begging me to do that, dollface.”

“that’s what i do every night already,” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest and observing the way he simply shrugs in response. “we’re trying something different this time.”

“oh, are we now?” toji drawls mockingly, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you with a bemused half-smile tugging at his scarred lips. “and what makes you so sure i’ll even agree to go along with this, hm?”

“well… because if you don’t, then you get no pussy tonight.” you counter in a decisive hum, closing your legs and sealing yourself away from his view.

“really? that's the best y'got?” he snorts obnoxiously, waving a dismissive hand in your direction and turning his head back to the television screen at the end of the bed as if to showcase how unaffected he is by your threat.

toji may be stubborn as a mule, but so are you; which is a good thing because it means you work well together, but a bad thing (for him) because it means that two can play at this little game he’s started.

so while he pretends his attention is solely fixed on whatever is quietly playing on the tv, you not-so-subtly begin sliding a hand down the length of your body, eyeing him carefully for any signs of a reaction.

you know you’re making progress when he covers up the way a groan threatens to rumble from deep in his throat when he notices your hand finishing its descent and disappearing between your legs by clearing his throat into his fist.

he holds out for quite a while, honesty. it must be taking a herculean effort on his part not to snap when you begin releasing shameless moans and gasps of pleasure right beside him, coupled with the lewd squelching sounds emanating from your cunt.

but toji is just a man, after all — and one that is not used to being denied what he wants, at that. so it's not long at all before he breaks, practically ripping his clothes to shreds in his haste to be inside of you right now.

you stop him before he can line himself up with your entrance by placing a hand on his bare chest, a victorious smile pulling at your lips as you tilt your head to the side. "forgetting something, big man?"

"huh? oh, y'mean a condom? sorry, baby, 'm all out." he mutters while shooting an apologetic grin in your direction, quickly turning his focus back to pushing his gushing tip towards your fluttering hole.

"no, not that," you chuckle in bemusement, giving his chest a light shove to stop his advances yet again. "i'm fairly certain i said no pussy for you unless you beg for it, didn't i?"

toji's grin falls comically fast, replaced by a small scowl of annoyance as he leans back on his haunches. damn it, he'd been foolish to hope you would've forgotten about that already.

"jesus christ, fine... please?" he forces out with about as much enthusiasm as a young child about to go to their first day back at school after a long vacation, the words coated in bitterness as they fall from his tongue.

"alright, i see you don't really want it then, so i'll just see myself out—"

"fuck no, you're not going anywhere, dollface," toji grunts before you can even take a single step towards the door, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and effortlessly pulling you down onto his lap. "i'll even beg all proper for ya, okay? please can i have you, mama?"

"...i suppose." you respond with a small smile, trying to hold back the smugness threatening to bubble up into your tone as you realize that your little plan actually worked.

but as per usual, you end up being the one begging for more once toji starts bouncing your pliant body up and down on his fat, curved cock that just fills you up so good.

...no surprises there.

CHOSO KAMO — BEGS ALREADY (A LOT!)

choso has absolutely no problem being pathetic for you.

he feels that it's a blessing just being able to exist in your mere presence, so it's only fair that if he wants anything more than that then he should ask nicely, right?

he has no idea why anyone wouldn't get down on their knees and beg for the privilege of getting to touch someone as pretty as you, especially when you walk into the bedroom in nothing but one of his oversized shirts.

"baby..." choso mutters quietly, voice already slightly whiny as he watches you perch yourself on the edge of the bed he was lazily sprawled across before your entrance.

"hmm?" you hum, feigning obliviousness, as you peer at him over your shoulder — and oh, is he adorable like this. all pale, blushing cheeks and an involuntary pout pushing at his full lower lip.

"you look so pretty right now," he murmurs quietly but sincerely as his wide chestnut eyes trail over your form with barely concealed reverence dancing in his irises. "...w-well, i mean, you always look pretty. but especially right now." he adds for good measure.

"why thank you," you respond with a soft smile, reaching out to lightly trail your fingertips across the distance of his sharp jawline and relishing in the way his entire body visibly shivers as a result. "is there by any chance something you want, cho?"

choso audibly gulps at the gentle and knowing tone of your voice, letting his eyes flutter closed for a few beats before opening them again. "m-maybe."

"maybe?" you repeat in a light chuckle, raising an eyebrow and grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger to make sure his gaze stays directly fixed upon you. "i know you can do better than that, baby. c'mon, use your words for me."

his pouting lower lip trembles ever so slightly at your coaxing words, the rapidly growing bulge in his sweatpants twitching violently in a way that borders on painful in response. "want y-you."

"hmm... better, i suppose. but still not good enough." you tut in disappointment, removing your touch from his chin entirely and observing the way he chases after your hand with silent amusement.

slowly crawling across the mattress, you perch yourself upon his lap before the poor boy can even process what's happening, placing your hands over his hipbones to stop his inevitable squirming.

"if you want something, you have to be specific," you drawl in a low, sultry caress of a tone, languidly rolling forward against the not-so-subtle hardness you can feel beneath your ass. "now... tell me, cho, what is that you want?"

choso appears to be mere moments away from bursting into a fit of tears at your teasing movement, his pale hands clenching into white-knuckled fists against the bedsheets as he peers up at you pleadingly through the messy strands of dark hair that have fallen across his forehead.

"i-i want you to... to fuck me," he murmurs timidly, each syllable audibly shaking with embarrassment as it leaves his mouth. no matter how many times the two of have been intimate in the past, he still remains as shy as ever. "please."

"thereee we go," you coo warmly, hands giving his hips a gentle squeeze in reward for his obedience. "didn't even have to ask you to beg, hmm? you did it all on your own like a good boy."

choso merely nods furiously, his desperate facial expression doing all the talking for him as you lift your body up for a moment to tug his sweatpants (which are already decorated with a small pre-cum stain) down.

it's not long before you're settled atop his needy, pulsing cock, unable to resist his repeated adorable whimpers and mewls to feel you around him — and oh, does it feel better when you've teased him just a little beforehand.

he's going feral within seconds, pulling your pliant body down to his face practically suffocate himself with your pillowy tits while he ruts up into like an animal in heat.

as you brace yourself for a bumpy ride, you can't but think that if there's one thing you never have to worry about with choso as your boyfriend, it's him refusing to beg for you.

...but what you do have to worry about is the very real possibility of him bruising your cervix with how deep his relentless thrusts are reaching.

RYOMEN SUKUNA — KINGS DO NOT BEG... RIGHT?

ryomen sukuna is the king of curses. and, coincidentally, last time he checked; kings do not beg.

so when you have the sheer audacity to ask him to plead with you for the mere privilege of getting to touch your mortal cunt, to say he is outraged would be a dire understatement.

“absolutely not.” sukuna grunts firmly, crimson eyes narrowing in annoyance as he waves a dismissive hand in your direction, the action not dissimilar to what he would've to one of his old concubines when he was finished with them.

but you're irritatingly persistent, refusing to let the matter go for the entire duration of the night as if you truly believe there's a chance you can break his ironclad resolve.

"you must be deluded beyond comprehension to think i would ever stoop so low as to—" he begins to grumble, but for some reason, finds the end of his sentence disappearing from his mind when he lays eyes upon what you're currently doing.

there you sit, at the foot of his throne, skirt pushed up to reveal the lack of... well, anything underneath as you shamelessly sprawl your legs apart to give him an unobstructed view of your sweet cunt.

"fuck, woman," sukuna practically growls, the sound guttural and raw as it escapes from deep in his throat. he shifts subtly in his seat, craning his neck downward to get a better look at you. "what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"who, me?" you hum, feigning complete obliviousness as you slowly but surely lift a leg up and press the end of your high heel against the arm of his throne.

"yes, you," he scoffs incredulously, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest and attempting to continue remaining unaffected by your little display. "do you see anyone else in here flashing me their bare pussy?"

you make a show of glancing over both shoulders before turning back and shaking your head with a mock-innocent smile stretching at your lips. "huh. you're right, looks like i'm the only one."

sukuna only responds with an unamused grunt at your childish antics, the sound quickly melting into a rough groan when you lift up your other leg as well, body now entirely open and just ripe for the taking.

he finds himself instinctively reaching out a thick hand before he even realizes what he's doing, only for you to pin it down with the end of your heel without it managing to make contact with your skin.

"ah ah," you hum chidingly, tilting your head to the side and peering up at him through fluttering lashes. "you know what you have to do if you want to touch, ryo."

sukuna scowls fiercely, fully aware that he could effortlessly pull his hand from under your shoe and snap your pretty little ankle in half in one swift movement... but he won't do that, of course. (maybe)

he could also just take what he wants right here, right now, without having to humiliate himself by pleading — but he supposes if he's going to do something so utterly unbecoming of himself like begging for someone, it might as well be for you.

so as soon as the pathetic syllables of the word "please" leave his disgruntled mouth, he doesn't wait a single second to pounce on you, easily folding your legs up to your head so your heels frame either side of your face.

"but don't think this little stunt of yours will go unpunished," sukuna mutters gruffly in your ear as he impatiently tugs his robes open. "next time, i'll make you take both my cocks. then you'll be the one begging me; not for more... no, but for me to stop."

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

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webism · 2 months ago

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pornstar!satoru and pornstar!suguru managing to talk you into letting them both fuck you at the same time on film—a double penetration scene.

apparently, after a few... lewd images of the three of you together were leaked by a blue-eyed attention whore who swears he didn't mean to edit, upload and caption them before posting them on his main twitter, your combined audiences have started begging for video content of the three of you. and what better than a filthy threesome to spark the flame of your three-way-affairs?

it's how you end up riding suguru, feeling his cock so deep inside of you that you swear he's in your stomach. your hands find purchase on his muscled pecs as you ride him to the brink of orgasm; sweat coats your skin, his too, and as it is with suguru, your moans aren't played up for the sake of porn: they're raw and real and so loud as he encourages your sounds with a finger circling over your clit.

those at home watching the pair of you, only one hand free as they stroke or finger or rub themselves in time with each thrust of Suguru's hips up into you, are all met with the sight of satoru walking into frame. cock hard and big and at attention as he climbs onto the bed behind you and takes a few moments to kiss at your neck, reach around and play with your bouncing tits.

how he teases you with his words, whispers them into you ear with full knowledge that the cameras microphone wont pick up on his words. there's no production crew this time around, no directors forcing a position or calling for breaks and ruining the building tension in your already coiled stomach.

"gonna fuck this pretty ass so deep, see if i can feel sugu through you hm? you want that?"

and his word already have you on edge, all you think you can manage is a moan of approval and the slightest nod of your head, but satoru grabs your chin and guides your gaze to the camera. "say you want it, say you want me."

"i—fuck—i want you, toru. want you to fuck my ass while i ride suguru."

the domesticity, the sweet nicknames you wouldn't have said on film if you were half as aware of the world around you—it's a lot for poor satoru to handle, what with how hard his cock is, how it's already leaking so much precum onto the sheets beneath you. he can barely still your hips for long enough to work himself into your ass, and the stretch of him is enough to push you forward and on top of suguru.

you're given a moment to adjust, a full minute of stillness to catch your breath and acclimate to the overwhelming fullness you feel—the weird way you feel whole, and the inevitable loss you'll feel once this is over. the moment is also given to stop the poor boys from cumming all too quickly. suguru can feel satoru pulsing inside of you, and satoru swears he can feel suguru's cock twitch. you squeeze around the both of them, test their resolve with a simple roll of the hips, and then choke on your spit when they both start thrusting in tandem with each other. hard and fast and mean and all at once.

it's blinding, the pleasure you feel all of a sudden.

suguru is strong and domineering with his hands on your hips and his cock nestled deep in your pussy—he thrusts his hips up, matches satoru's unkind pace in such a way you're sure you'll be unable to walk the next way. gorgeous praise slips from his lips as you hold eye contact with him—you're surely a mess, fucked stupid by two men at once.

satoru is eager and manic in the way he takes your ass. his hands perched on suguru's thighs as he ruts into you over and over in chase of a climax he knows is going to be unearthly. he'd praise you if he could, but all that spills from his mouth are incoherent babbles of pleasure that would make anyone listening think that he's the one being impaled on his almost too-large cock.

they work so well together—your pleasure seems to be the one thing they consistently agree on. you don't even have the mind to worry about the video length with how fast you're reaching orgasm, dragging the boys with you as you shake between them, wracked with pleasure so overwhelming you're nearly in tears.

it's a clip that gets shared on every porn site and blog known to man. of you, a fucked out mess between two lust-struck men each cumming inside of you at the exact same time your own orgasm crests.

the clenching of suguru's stomach as he bucks up into you, natural instincts rolling his cock as deep as possible as he empties his balls inside of you.

the way satoru tilits his head back, jaw tight and hair a mess as he forgets how to breathe when he paints the inside of your ass with his cum.

and you, impaled on both cocks at the same time, overstimulated and shaking with the remnants of the strongest orgasm you've had in a long time, and still rolling your hips in hopes of more. another round or three, as long as you stay this full.

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#im on my phone so not the typical kinktober setup #but this is day 12 #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #geto smut #suguru geto smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader #satosugu smut #satosugu x reader #kinktober 2024

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jaythes1mp · 5 months ago

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Here, Kitty.

Yan batfam x cat hybrid reader -> CH1

12609 words, 71519 characters, 719 sentences, 224 paragraphs, 50.4 pages Next chapter

You can't recall exactly when or how you first came into contact with the billionaire and his sons, but if you could, you would go back in time and prevent that meeting from ever taking place. In a heartbeat.

Sitting obediently on a glass table tucked in the center of a crowded Wayne Enterprises boardroom, you find yourself ensnared as Bruce Wayne diligently delivers a familiar presentation, each sentence having been painstakingly practiced during the car ride over. Having overheard his repeated rehearsal with Alfred, you find yourself unconsciously mouthing along to every word. The tight black and green collar around your neck only worsening your discomfort, its stiffness constricting your movements and snagging on your freshly groomed fur.

The man continues on with his presentation, his polished demeanour and authoritative tone captivating the attention of the surrounding investors and executives. However, you find it difficult to focus on his words, the ridiculous knitted Nightwing sweater pressing against your back causing an uncomfortable itch. You shift slightly, wincing as your freshly combed coat brushes against the stiff fabric.

The weight of Bruce's unwavering gaze lands on you like a furnace, and you can almost picture that infuriatingly fond smile plastering his face. Just the thought of it made your stomach churn with disgust. Your tail swishing side to side in distaste.

He continues to drone on and on; and you find yourself struggling to stay still, the uncomfortable position, itchy sweater, and the heavy weight of Bruce's stare making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything he's saying. The only thing you want to do is scratch the infuriating itch, but the tight collar around your neck and Bruce's looming presence ensure that you remain obediently still. You know better than to cross them. How willing they are to punish you, so you stay still.

Your thoughts drift to a time when you were still unburdened by this enforced domestication. A pang of longing and bitterness settles in your chest as memories of your previous life come flooding back. You remember the simple freedom of being able to move about unmonitored, the comfort of lounging in the sun, unbothered by the Wayne families suffocating grasps.

Your paws effortlessly propel you across the icy rooftops, leaping and bounding with a careless grace. The cool night air brushes through your untamed, unhindered fur, the wind whistling past your ears. A bag is clenched between your sharp teeth, the fabric muffling your breathing slightly as you scale each building with purpose.

The city's neon glow stretches out beneath your paws, the distant lights casting a soft, surreal hue on the urban canvas. Free to go wherever you please. You could spend minutes, hours or even days just wandering under Gotham’s starry sky, with no one to tell you what to do or where to be.

You pause your journey and arrive at the edge of a dark alley, peering down at the scene below. A woman holds two teens hostage, a pistol pressed against their shivering frames. Your tail involuntarily fluffs up, matching the tension in your body as your slitted eyes dart to each potential escape route. A hiss escapes past your teeth, and you set the package down at your side before delicately pawing at a loose brick in the wall. You slide it from its position just enough to create a domino effect, the brick falling directly onto the woman's gun-holding hand.

A small, satisfied mewl leaves your throat as the woman wails in pain, her broken wrist cradled protectively in her grip. The two teens immediately seize the opportunity to make their escape, scrambling out of the alleyway. The gun slips from the woman's grasp, and she drops to her knees clutching her wounded hand. Your ears fold back and a low hiss escapes your lips at the sight, but you remain perched on the roof-top, unmoving. You slowly lower back down to take your package, then turn away. Your paws hitting the nearest rooftop with a small thump.

Your paws carry you further and further away from the robbery, the events replaying in your mind like a vivid, disjointed dream. You launch yourself from roof-to-roof in a series of quick dashes and leaps, your body seemingly on autopilot as you weave through the city's darkened backstreets. The silence of the rooftops envelops you like a comforting blanket, the city below finally at rest. A cool night breeze caresses your untamed fur, rustling its unkempt strands. Balancing the package carefully in your mouth, you bound toward your home’s familiarly cluttered balcony.

Your eyes scan over the cluttered balcony, taking in the random assortment of books, clothes, and trinkets strewn across the small space. Your padded paws land quietly on the rough wood, a subtle thump breaking the silence. Your muscles relax ever so slightly as the familiar surroundings wash over you. Without a second thought, you make your way to the edge of the balcony, lowering the package with your paws before curling up beside it, your ears folding back in an almost contented manner.

Your eyes had just shuttered closed as you basked in the soothing midnight breeze, when the sudden crash of metal yanks you from your reverie. Your ears perking up and pivoting towards the source of the disturbance. A low, frustrated huff escapes your snout. You stretch out your limbs, your tail flicking in annoyance as you lower yourself from the edge of the balcony and peer over the side.

Peering down from your perch on the balcony, your eyes widen in surprise. It’s...a boy? Wearing a skin-tight red and black bodysuit with a vibrant yellow cape. A flicker of familiarity sparks in your brain; you’ve seen this one before. Red Robin.

You observe him silently from your vantage point, tilting your head to the side as your eyes rove over his frame. He lets out an exaggerated groan, grappling awkwardly with an unfamiliar piece of gadgetry. A low, scoffing hum leaves your throat and your tail lightly thwaps against the wood, twitching in amusement. You had only seen him in pictures before, but damn, they didn’t lie. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

You lower yourself with a single, fluid motion onto the metal stairwell, feeling the rough surface scraping against your little paws. A small hiss of displeasure escapes your throat, but you brush it off and continue. You approach him curiously, taking a moment to inspect him. Your nose twitches as you sniff at his cape before finding a comfortable spot to sit and look up at him expectantly.

He doesn’t immediately notice your approach, his mind seemingly occupied by the malfunctioning gadget in his hands. You watch as he fiddles with the device for a few moments before his attention finally snaps to you. He visibly jumps, startled by your sudden proximity. He lets out a startled breath, eyes widening. You had gone to him.

You let out a snort of derision. Him, a vigilante? A detective? Unlikely. The thought of him trying to solve a case or outwit a criminal is absolutely absurd. You let your gaze wander over his costume once more, imagining how differently he would react if you were in your human form right now.

He slowly lowers the gadget, his eyes fixed upon you as you recline before him, behaving like an awaiting house cat. He observes you with quiet, analytical interest, his gaze roaming over your small form, taking in your twitching tail and reasonably-groomed fur. He seems to ponder the sight of you, weighing in on your not-quite stray, yet not-quite pampered appearance.

You gingerly shift closer, standing on your hind legs before pawing at his pants. A small indignant huff of disappointment escapes your lips as the material refuses to tear, the tightly-woven fabric holding firmly against your claws, unable to even tear the slightest thread, but you mask it with a small, almost cute "mew". Nevertheless, you are determined to make the most out of this situation. Planning on coaxing all the pets you possibly can out of this man.

He shoots you a curious look, tilting his head to the side. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. He then slowly reaches out a gloved hand, hovering it over your head hesitantly, waiting for your response.

The end of your tail gives a happy flick, betraying your eagerness for his touch. You press your cheek against his knuckles, enjoying the sensation of his fingers against your fur. Instinctively, your ears fold back, granting him better access to run his fingers further through your soft fur. Sucker.

A soft, delighted purring sound fills the air as your eyes flutter closed, your purrs becoming a constant, steady low rumble in your chest as he continues to gently stroke your head and down your neck. Oh, this is heavenly. Your tail swishes contentedly, and you lean into his touch, almost shamelessly seeking out more.

His gloved hand is much bigger than your entire head, the soft fabric of his suit brushing against your fur. Yet, his touch was gentle and deliberate, slowly tracing the outline of your ears and down your spine, causing a blissful shiver to run through your small body. Your eyelids droop further, nearly closing completely, your purring becoming louder as you relax into his touch. You don’t notice the pleased knowing grin that crosses his face.

The weight and warmth of his gloved hand was almost soothing, his fingers weaving between your fur with a sort of rhythmic motion. You let your body go limp, your head rolling back to further expose the underside of your chin, silently begging for more of those slow, careful caresses. Your eyes are almost completely closed now, a small rumble in your chest the only sound you remember how to make. God, you haven’t been pet in weeks.

His hand moves from your spine to the base of your tail, and a low sigh of pure contentment leaves your mouth. He seems to sense your delight and focuses his attention there, running his fingers through the base of your tail, causing you to involuntarily arch your body towards him, purring in approval.

He seems to know exactly what to do, his touch deliberate yet tender. A little too well. It's as if he's somehow mapped out each and every spot that you secretly adore and is now exploiting it to great effect. The constant caresses, pets, and scrabbles have worked you into a sort of euphoric, almost trancelike state, your mind becoming blissfully devoid of conscious thought. All you can focus on is the warm, firm touch of his gloved hand.

The moment is shattered, however, as deep voice from his comms shatters the sweet, blissful moment. Your little pointed ears perk up, instinctively responding to the sudden intrusion of sound. “Tim? Why does it say you’ve stood still?”

You pull yourself from your blissful state with a reluctant huff, the sound of the deep voice in his comm jarring you back to reality. Your ears flick back, annoyed at the interruption. Tim– Red Robin seems to tense up, his hand frozen in mid-pet. He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, looking down at you. "Sorry, I got…distracted."

Your tail lazily swishes against the stairwell, silently expressing your irritation at having been interrupted. You can practically hear his sheepish, nervous chuckle, can practically sense the tension in his frame. "Distracted?" The voice in the comm questions, but you huff, tuning out the conversation.

You let out a small, frustrated huff before turning your focus back onto Tim's still form. Ignoring the man's comm conversation, you push your little, fluffy face against his leg, letting out a needy demanding mewl to regain his attention. You're not done yet, damn it.

His eyes flick back over to you, a mix of apology and amusement evident in his gaze. He resumes his prior motions, sliding his hand down your spine with a soft, comforting caress, tracing the same path he'd followed before. All the while, his other hand is fiddling with the comms device, probably replying to the man on the other end. Good. As long as his hands are still touching you, you don't particularly care what he's doing. “You found them?”

You sigh and let yourself relax once again, the soothing motions of his fingers against your fur quickly working you back into blissful indifference. You let your eyelids flutter closed, sinking back into the soothing rhythm of his touch. The only sounds you can focus on are his breathing, the soothing rasp of his glove against your fur, and the low hum of the comm conversation. This is nice.

He continues this motion for what feels like an eternity, the blissful sensation of being pet taking over your senses and dulling your brain into a euphoric, mindless state. You find yourself leaning heavily against his leg, the steady rise and fall of his chest and the low rumble of his voice against the comms acting as an oddly soothing background noise. Damn, you could get used to this....

Gradually, you become aware of him shifting, his hand leaving your spine. A low whine escapes your throat, your eyes opening to look up at him with a mixture of annoyance and pleading. Come back. You meow, demanding.

You let out a low grumble of complaint as he stands and picks up the device once more. Irritated at the interruption of your moment, you bat at his leg with your small paw, then quickly scamper away, leaping back onto the balcony from before. Now alone, you let out a sigh and circle the small space multiple times. The wood scraping against your claws sharply.

With a quick shift, you transform back into your human form, the small package clutched delicately in your hands. Turning, you slide open the door to the balcony and step through, the cool night air rustling against your clothes.

Tossing the small package onto the countertop, you drag yourself over to the couch. Your limbs ache with exhaustion as you collapse into the cushions with a thud. You bring the well worn blanket with you, wrapping your tired body in its familiar comfort. Your muscles are screaming out for rest. Which you happily oblige.

You're wrenched out of a fitful sleep, eyes fluttering open as the familiar, infuriating sound of construction greets you. Fuck. A loud, frustrated groan escapes your chapped lips. You pull a nearby couch pillow over your head, desperately trying to muffle the noise. With bleary eyes, you squint at the digital clock reading 5:42. You want to die.

The relentless hammering, banging, and drilling outside the thin walls of the apartment pierce your eardrums. You swear you can feel each blow of the hammer, every screech of the drill, deep in your bones. Make it stop. You press the pillow more firmly against your ears, trying in vain to block out the incessant din. You silently promise yourself that if you ever meet the city planner responsible for approving this construction, you'll kick him square in the nuts... Or right in the vagina– whatever. Now is not the time to debate over this.

With a groan of irritation and an abundance of hissing, you force your tired body into a sitting position as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. You take a moment to rub your temples for some relief from the dull ache forming behind your eyes.

You open your red rimmed eyes and swing your legs over the side of the couch. The exhaustion from last night feels ten times worse now after being woken up prematurely by the construction racket. You mentally curse whoever’s in charge here, and their entire bloodline. Silently wishing for the noise to stop. Maybe you can sleep in the bathtub later...

You brace one hand against the side of the couch as you use it as support to rise to your feet. A series of satisfying cracks and pops resonate down your spine. By the sound of it you’re a chiropractors wet dream.

You let out a low sigh of relief as you straighten, your back now less taut than it was a few moments ago. Small mercies, right?

With your hands clamped tightly over your tender, sensitive ears, you stumble into the kitchen. You begin searching through each cabinet with a desperation that borders on violent. Your mission? Find the strongest headache pills you have.

After hastily flinging open each cupboard and shelf, you finally find what you’re looking for. A small, white bottle filled half way with little white tabs. With a quick twist, you pop the lid open and pour two pills out into your palm, before downing them dry.

You lean against the kitchen counter, eyes squeezed shut as you press the heels of your hands firmly into your temples. Come on. Work already..

You wait in silence, only the buzzing of the refrigerator and occasional hammering outside filling the air. You press your palms against your temples, as if physically willing the pills to work faster. The tension between your shoulders tight as piano wire.

You let out a frustrated groan, turning the tap on, lowering your head under the rushing water. You gulp down a few mouthfuls, letting the water run over, through, and past your lips. The noise of the tap muffling the sounds of the construction. The coolness of the water temporarily soothes the ache behind your eyes.

You let the water slide past your lips, closing them to savor the cool sensation. Your mind grows blank as you lose track of time, lost in tranquility despite the racket outside. Then, with a shaky hand, you turn off the tap, stepping back as you reach for a tea towel to dry your face and neck. The cloth rough against your tender skin, but the motion is calming, and your shoulders loosen the slightest bit.

You lean back against the counter, the cold marble seeping through your shirt, almost numbing any sensation on your skin. You take another moment to towel dry your hair, the rough material scraping against your scalp, and sending a pleasant shiver down your back. The small action temporarily distracting you from the pounding in your head.

You drop the towel, letting it fall onto the counter behind you. A long exhale escapes your mouth, your shoulders dropping as you relax. For a moment, the water seems to have worked. Unfortunately, the relief is short lived as the headache slowly creeps back in. A low growl escapes your lips. Ugh.

You scan over the bottle, reading the small print. Only twenty minutes before the damn things start to kick in. Shit. You shove the container back inside the cupboard, a frustrated huff leaving your lips. You drag your body over to your room, every step a tedious task.

You stumble into the room and collapse onto your bed, face first. You let out a low groan as your body lands on the soft, fluffy mattress. It welcomes you with open arms. You let yourself go limp, letting the comfort and softness of your bed lull you into a quiet state of half numbness. You can’t tell if it’s the lack of rest, or the pills finally starting to work, but you’re suddenly feeling incredibly woozy.

With a sluggish effort, you shift your head up, wincing at the sharp, persistent thrum in your skull. Despite the throbbing, you slowly extend your arm to reach for the pair of shorts laying on the edge of the bed.

With a weary sigh, you shuck off yesterday’s cargo pants and pull the new shorts up your legs. The simple motion feels like climbing a mountain. Deciding that the headache pounding through your mind was too much to change your shirt, you collapse back onto your bed. The sheets cool against your overheated skin.

You lay there for a moment, letting the comfort of your bed take hold. Despite the headache still pounding through your head, exhaustion slowly starts to take hold of you. Your eye lids flutter as sleep slowly creeps in. But just as you’re about to doze off, your stomach lets out an obnoxious gurgle, the sound piercing the silence. Great.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you shift up from the bed, grimacing as you do so. Your untamed hair sticking up in random directions. You rub your temple, as your stomach lets out another loud grumble. You let out an annoyed whine as the realisation sinks in. You’re out of groceries.

With a disgruntled huff, you haul yourself up for the second time. Reaching for your jacket as you quickly make your way towards the front door. This time choosing to forego the balcony and just walk like a normal person. You swing open the front door and step out into the hallway. The fluorescent lights buzz annoyingly overhead.

You step into the hallway, your shoes slapping softly against the tiled floor. The sound of the construction is no longer muffled, the endless banging and grinding now clear as day. You wince as the onslaught suddenly becomes unbearable. You quickly make your way to the staircase instead of the elevator. You can’t handle being jammed into that tiny space with the sounds of hell right now.

You take the steps of the staircase two at a time, just wanting to get out of this damn building as soon as possible. Each step echoes with a rhythmic thudding against the cold concrete as you make your way to the ground floor. The headache pills have finally started to work, but the pounding construction outside is slowly undoing their efforts.

You stride past the workers, shooting each of them a murderous glare. It’s not their fault they’re just doing their job. But goddamn it, the headache is worsening and it’s all you can do to not snap at them. Instead, you settle for shooting them a glare that could rival Batman himself.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the angry words building within you. Just keep walking. It’s fine. They’re not at fault here. It’s stupid to be angry at them. You repeat the mantra in your head like a broken record as your legs carry you further down the street. Further away from that blasted construction noise.

You keep walking, your shoes thumping against the concrete as you go. The further away you get from the construction, the more the headache starts to abate. You let out a quiet, shuddering breath of relief as you glance around at your surroundings. Barely anyone was out at this hour, the streets still mostly asleep.

After walking another ten minutes or so, you pause in the middle of the street and let out a string of quiet curses under your breath. The stores won’t be open for at least another four hours, and your stomach is starting to demand sustenance again.

Frustration builds inside of you, your teeth clenched tight together as you shuffle in place. You can’t go back to your apartment because of that goddamn noise, and all the stores that aren’t run by mobsters are closed.

You sigh, resting your tired body against the graffiti-filled wall behind you. There was another option you could try. But whether or not you were desperate enough to do it was something else.

You chew on your bottom lip in contemplation. You hadn't eaten much more than a small yogurt cup yesterday, and your stomach was protesting it's emptiness in a loud, gurgling complaint. You release a long sigh, doing a quick glance around to ensure no one was nearby before shifting into a cat.

The transformation is swift and graceful as you shift into the form of a sleek cat. Your body shrinks, limbs elongating and changing shape as soft multicoloured fur sprouts from your body. You stand on four paws, tail swaying languidly. You give yourself a quick shake, licking your little paws for good measure before looking around again.

You take a moment to get used to the new body you’ve assumed. Everything felt a tad bit more sensitive in this form. Your ears swivel around at minuscule sounds as you sniff the air with your sensitive nose, picking up on the various scents floating through the street.

You decide to try your hand at pity first, before resorting to thievery if your first plan fails. You slink down the street, your paws silent against the pavement beneath you as you search for some poor unsuspecting soul to assist you.

You stalk down the street, ears pricked and head tilted as you listen for the sounds of anyone making their way through the quiet street. You make yourself as adorable as possible: wide, begging eyes and sticking out your chest. A pitiful meow leaving your little cat mouth every so often, just for good measure.

You make your way through the city, heading towards the more upscale side of Gotham. You sway your tail idly behind you, the appendage brushing against the concrete and gathering the dirt that sticks to your fur. You make sure to rub up against some objects, gathering enough dirt and debris to make yourself appear slightly disheveled, but not enough to set off your instincts to want to groom yourself immediately.

You reach a neighbourhood of opulent high rises and well manicured lawns, plush houses and gated communities starting to become more frequent, a stark contrast to the graffiti-filled blocks you had passed before. Your fur is dusted with enough dirt to look untidy without feeling uncomfortable, and you let out a small meow as you glance down the street, scouting for a likely target.

You spot a man of considerable height, around 6 foot tall, with an intimidatingly built physique. His shirt clings just slightly too tightly against his chest, leaving little to the imagination. A scar mars the side of his face, making him look even more menacing. But you’ve seen far scarier looking men loitering at the end of your street. Saying that, doesn’t mean you’re any less scared of his imposing figure. So you quickly duck under the nearest parked car, attempting to conceal yourself beneath it.

You watch in trepidation as the man begins strutting towards the vehicle you’ve hidden yourself beneath. He kneels down in an unhurried, smooth motion, and peers right under the car. His gaze instantly locks onto you, your eyes widening in response to his intense stare. For the briefest of moments, you could have sworn there was a look of softness in his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected to see you.

“A cat?” The man lets out a small huff, shaking his head in what seemed like disbelief. His gaze drifts to your disheveled appearance, taking in the dirt that clings to your fur. He lets out a low hum, continuing to watch you with a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His muscles slowly relax. A smirk appearing on his face as he studies you closer.

Your tail sways behind you, your ears perking up at his relaxed gaze. A sly little grin of satisfaction threatens to rise to your face, but you hold it back, instead letting out a pitiful meow as you slowly shuffle closer to him. He doesn’t move away, watching your every movement with unwavering eyes.

You lower your head, slowly moving towards his boots. You let your body press against the soles of his shoes, a soft purring sound escaping your little feline mouth. The dirt from your fur slowly coats the previously clean material of his boots, but he doesn’t seem to mind the mess.

You continue to press your body against the hard leather of his boots, leaving behind a dusting of dirt. He crouches down, gently reaching out a big hand, careful not to scare you off. You can see the muscles in his arms flex with the action, the veins prominent on his knuckles. He gently runs a finger over your head, scratching just behind your ears.

The feel of his big hand against your head is gentle, his touch unexpectedly tender as he lightly scratches at the skin behind your ear. You let out a rumbling purr, unable to fight the comforting sensation that slowly starts to take over. Despite his intimidating appearance, he’s surprisingly sweet towards you.

He’s a hard-looking man, his appearance disheveled and weathered, a white streak through his jet black hair. His wide physique is almost intimidating, but you can see his heart already start to soften after a few moments. It seems even he isn’t immune to the charm of a pitiful stray cat begging for food and affection.

"What are you doing all the way out here, kid?" The man's deep, slightly grating voice calls out as he continues to gently scratch behind your ear. He's staring down at your small form with an odd expression of concern on his face, his eyes drifting over your disheveled fur.

Your ears perk up at the sound of his voice. Something suddenly seems terribly familiar about it. You tilt your head, glancing up to get a clearer look at the man’s face as you try and place where exactly you’ve heard his voice before.

You look closer at the man, studying his features with a furrowed brow. There’s no mistaking it now, you’ve definitely seen this guy somewhere before. You’re sure of it. But there’s no way you’d ever know anyone this big and intimidating before… right?

The man stands, gently scooping you up into his arms. He gives you a light pat on the head before he starts to move. “Come along then, I don’t need that little shit on my ass for leaving their little obsession stranded so far from home,” he mumbles, as if he’s talking to himself and not you.

You’re left blinking in surprise as you’re lifted from the ground, cradled in the man’s arms. You look up at him as he starts walking down the street with you, a bewildered look on your face. Obsession? Stranded? What the hell is this dude on?

The man continues walking, his stride even and unhurried. He glances down at you and scoffs, as if he’s amused by the sight of you. He mutters something under his breath as he walks, something that sounds like “God dammit, B.” He brings his hand up to give you a gentle scratch under your chin, the gesture almost affectionate.

Your stomach chooses the perfect moment to let out a loud grumble, the sound amplified by being so close to the man’s hand. You can feel his hand twitch against your belly slightly, and he lets out a low chuckle.

“Hungry, huh?” The man drawls out. He stops his stride for a moment, pulling out his phone as he keeps you cradled in one arm. You can’t see anything from this angle, but you can hear the sound of him making a phone call.

It’s only a few rings before someone picks up on the other end. You can faintly hear a voice chatting softly on the other line, even though you can’t make out what they’re saying. The man lets out a small huff of annoyance before holding the phone up to his ear, shifting you in his arms to keep you comfortably balanced against his chest.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker, his voice gruff but surprisingly soft. “Yeah, I’m out on the east side. I found something.” There’s a pause as the person on the other line responds, and you can faintly hear them say something, although it’s muffled and indistinct. The man snorts, his eyes drifting down to you for a moment before he continues.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m bringing ‘em back. Relax,” The man responds to the person on the other side of the line, rolling his eyes. You watch the side of his face as he talks, your ears pricked, ears catching snippets of the conversation. Relax? What do they mean by that? Are they talking about me?

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” the man says, shifting you around again as he begins to resume walking. “I’ll be back in an hour.” The person on the other end says a few more words before there’s a beep signifying the call’s been cut. He shoves his phone back into his pocket before bringing his hand back to keep you cradled against his chest.

You huff softly, feeling a strange mix of irritation and intrigue swirling inside of you. In an attempt to distract yourself, you reach your small paw up, lightly tapping it against the man’s cheek.

It’s a small action, intended to be nothing more than a curious little jab. But against the rough, scarred skin of the man’s cheek, your tiny little paw seems almost affectionate. He glances down at you at the contact, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.

He studies you for a moment, a look of almost curiosity on his face. It’s a far cry from the gruff, hardened exterior he had been portraying up until now. He stops his stride for a moment, lifting you closer to his face to look at you more closely.

He seems almost… fascinated by you. His eyes rove over your soft fur and little face, taking in every detail. He lets out a low hum, slowly reaching out a hand and gently stroking your back. “The kid’s is gonna kill me for letting you get all dirty.”

The hand stroking gently down your back is surprisingly soft, despite the callouses and ridges of his fingertips. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, probably trying to deduce what to do. “You’re a mess,” he mutters, his gaze drifting over your disheveled coat.

You can feel the urge to roll your eyes at the man’s words, the comment practically begging for a sarcastic reaction. But you hold it back, reminding yourself of the delicious meal you’re hoping to get out of him. Better hold back on the sass, for now.

Instead, you let your tail flick idly, trying to appear as innocent and pitiful as possible. Come on, man. Have a heart. Feed me.

The dude glances down as your tail continues to flick against his arm, almost as if you’re trying to lure him into doing something for you. A light snort escapes his mouth, his fingers trailing down to give you a little scratch on the head. “You’re a sly little bastard, ain’t ya?”

His statement is more of an off-handed comment rather than an actual critique. He continues to scratch behind your ear, seemingly unable to resist giving you a little affection. His gaze drifts over your disheveled form, taking in the dirt-matted fur and slight exhaustion in your eyes.

He lets out a soft grunt, his touch gentle as he runs his hands through your fur. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, his eyes never leaving your disheveled appearance. “How long you been out here all alone, huh?” he mutters, his voice gruff but strangely sympathetic.

The man lets out a low huff, glancing down at you with an almost sympathetic look on his face. “It’s earlier than we planned,” the man mutters, a hint of regret coating his words. His hand still softly stroking through your fur. “But the renovations are nearly ready,” his eyes taking in your exhausted form. It’s hard to say if he’s talking to you or to himself, a note of assurance in his voice. “So soon, kid.”

You look up at him with a bewildered expression on your face, your little mind still trying to make sense of his words. What is he talking about? Renovations? Who’s he talking to? Who are the people he keeps mentioning? What is even happening right now? But you quickly cover it up and let out a tired-sounding meow, hoping he won’t notice the hint of confusion in your little feline face. He glances down at you, his hand slowly rubbing a soothing circle on your back.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he murmurs, his voice still gruff but the tone softer this time. “You’ll be safe soon enough.” He gives you a gentle pat on the head before resuming his stride. You can feel his arms cradling you against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat almost lulling you into a sense of security.

Even as your mind races with unanswered questions, the beat of the man’s heartbeat seems to soothe you, acting as a strange form of comfort. His warm arms keep you tucked against him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest steady and unhurried. It’s an almost reassuring presence.

The man carries you down the street, the rhythmic sound of his footsteps and steady rhythm of his heart slowly lulling you into a trance-like state. The exhaustion from the past few days is finally catching up to you, a small yawn escaping your little mouth before you can try to fight it.

You can feel your eyelids growing heavy, exhaustion taking over your small body. The steady rhythm of the man’s heart combined with the gentle rocking of his arms as he walks send a wave of fatigue through you. You try to fight back the overwhelming tiredness, but another small, squeaky yawn escapes your little mouth.

With a soft contented sigh, you stretch out your little paws, making yourself comfortable in his arms. The man lets out a low chuckle as he watches your little legs extend, giving you a gentle pat on the back.

It’s strangely comforting, being held in the man’s strong arms. The sound of his laughter rumbles through his chest, and you can almost hear a hint of affection in the gesture. You feel the weight of your fatigue start to increase, your eyes slowly blinking shut against your will.

You blearily blink your eyes open, suddenly finding yourself lying on a soft cushion. The fabric feels luxurious against your fur, the plush material enveloping you in a comfortable embrace. You dazedly look around, trying to recall how you ended up on this soft surface.

Your little ears fold back as you look around, slowly taking in your surroundings. A brief moment of confusion washes over you as you realize that you had fallen asleep in the man’s arms. But seeing him still here, you let out a relieved sigh, your entire fluffy body moving up and down in the process. Thank everything that he didn’t leave me on the side of the road.

He glances over at you, noticing that you’re now awake. “You finally back with the living?” he says gruffly, his voice tinged with amusement. You can see a hint of a smile on the man’s face, betraying his hard exterior.

You lift your chin up in a defiant huff, letting your tail flick against the soft cushion as an additional statement of irritation. The man lets out a snort, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter at your small act of feigned irritation.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” he mutters, his voice taking on a slightly amused tone. He reaches a hand out to give you a small pat on the head, his rough fingers gently stroking your fur.

Your chest lets out a soft rumble, purring at the feeling of his hand stroking through your fur. Your gaze drifts around the room, your nose twitching as you pick up on a delicious scent. Food, your stomach rumbles. Please, be food.

The aroma is tantalizing, making your little stomach grumble loudly in response. You wonder if it's your imagination, or if the man actually has food nearby. The man lets out another amused huff as he notices your nose twitching and your stomach rumbling. “Impatient little thing, eh?” he mutters, lifting his hand from your head to look at you with a slightly entertained expression. Your little paws twitch slightly, as if you’re preparing to go searching for where the wonderful scent is coming from.

He chuckles at your eagerness, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Calm down, bud,” he says gruffly. “Food’s coming in a minute. Ain’t gonna starve ya.’” He gives you another gentle pat on the head, his hand large enough to practically cover your entire body.

You let out a dissatisfied huff, your gaze still darting around to try and find the source of the delicious scent. You want to rush out and find the food immediately, but the man's large hand keeps you pressed firmly on the soft cushion. You squirm a little impatiently, your tail flicking idly against the fabric. Your cat instincts taking over.

He lets out an amused laugh at your squirming, your restlessness making it hard for him to keep you in place. “Hold still,” he says gruffly. “You're making it hard to keep you in one place.” He reaches his hands out again and gently holds you down, preventing you from moving around any further.

You’re not a fan of this guy keeping you down, your instincts flaring up in defiance. Despite the delicious promise of food in the air, you’re tempted to lash out and scratch him just for holding you in one spot. Release me, your inner self growls.

You pause in your struggle, your little ears perking up and your whiskers twitching as the clink of dishes and the soft sound of footsteps approaching comes from nearby. Your nose twitches with anticipation, the delicious smells in the air becoming more concentrated. Food.

You crane your head to get a better look at the approaching figure, your little body shifting slightly on the cushion. The man holding you down also looks up, watching as someone walks into the room carrying a tray of food. Your little mouth starts to salivate, the enticing scents wafting over to you and making your stomach rumble loudly.

The guy releases his grip once you stop squirming, letting you move freely again. You can feel your instincts taking over your little body, your tail curling around your side as you focus your attention on the tray of food being presented in front of you. “Here you are, Master Jason.”

Your eyes are almost glued to the tray, filled with the most tantalizing smells that you've come across. The man– Jason watches you quietly, amused by your little display. The person holding the tray sets the food down in front of you, the various dishes arranged in an almost tempting manner.

You want to purr in delight as you look at the food laid before you. Thank god there’s none of that dreadful cat food in sight. You've had your fair share of people trying to feed you that horrible kibble in the past, and you're definitely not a fan. This food smells a million times better than anything that ever came out of a can. Meat.

You shoot him a glance of appreciation before hopping onto the table, greedily pouncing on the food in front of you. You dive right in, devouring the food with gusto, your little tongue lapping at the meat hungrily.

You pay no mind to him as you feast on the delicious meal laid out in front of you. The smells, the texture, the taste; it’s all absolutely heavenly. You eat like you've never eaten before, your little body almost shaking with contentment. This might just be the best meal you’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.

Meanwhile, Jason watches your little display with a slight smirk on his face. He doesn’t say anything, just watching as you devour the food on the plate in front of you with relish. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, quickly taking a picture of you digging into the food to send to the family in case they ask how you're doing. He lets out a soft huff of amusement at your behavior, a hint of fondness in his eyes.

You're so lost in the food, you don't even notice the older man taking a picture of you. All your focus is singular, eating as much as you can before it’s taken away. The man watches you with a mix of amusement and something else that you can’t quite place. Too absorbed in your meal to notice his reaction.

Once you’ve practically licked the plate clean, you finally feel a sense of fullness, your little belly pleasantly satisfying. You give yourself a little shake, a little bit of food still stuck to your whiskers. Jason chuckles slightly, watching your little satisfied display. He breaks the silence as you finish cleaning yourself off.

“Had enough?” he asks in a gruff voice. His words are gruff and blunt, but you can sense the touch of amusement within them. You let out a little huff, feeling satisfied but also a little bit embarrassed at how fast you had eaten. Too much food, you think, your little stomach feeling a bit bloated.

The next thirty minutes pass by in a blur, your mind fuzzy and filled with the sensation of being inside Jason’s leather jacket as he mounts his bike. He doesn't have a bag or carrier to keep you secure, so you cling onto his shirt for dear life, your little claws digging tightly into the fabric. The wind whips through your fur as the bike roars to life, the force of the breeze making you instinctively cling even harder.

You had assumed that Jason was simply taking you back to the spot where he had found you under the car. After all, there was no chance in hell that you were going to poke your head out of the top of his jacket to check yourself. However, as he stops the bike and unzips the jacket, revealing your familiar surroundings, your tail begins to fluff up in surprise. Your eyes widen as you realize you’re at home, as in, right outside your apartment. The fur on your back bristles, ears folding back. You’re quick to jump off of the vehicle, backing away. What the fuck?

You scramble off Jason's lap and onto the sidewalk, your little paws almost slipping in your haste. The moment you land on the pavement, you take a few stumbling steps back, your tail puffed up and your fur standing on end. How could he possibly know where you live? You hadn’t given away any indication that you lived here, or anywhere for that matter. You had been so careful to stay out of sight, blending into the shadows. There was no way he could have known. And yet… here you are, outside your home. You take a tentative step back, your little feet moving instinctively. Your instincts are screaming at you to run, to get away from this guy who seemingly knew too much about you.

Your eyes dart from the man to the building behind you, your mind racing. Everything inside you is telling you to run, to flee and go hide. You were supposed to be so careful, so cautious about keeping your identity a secret. And now this man standing in front of you, this guy you barely knew, had just pulled up right outside your home. How the hell did he know where you lived? Run, your instincts yell. Run, run, run.

You take another jerky step back, your little paws almost slipping on the rough pavement. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You almost trip over your own feet, your mind flooded with a mix of fear and confusion. How does he know? How the fuck does he know!? You’ve been so careful, covering your tracks, making sure no one followed you home. But here he is, standing in front of you, looking all too calm and collected. You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he knows where you live or how calm he seems about it.

You don't waste another second, your little feet moving as fast as they can. Your instincts are screaming at you to run and get away as fast as possible. So that's what you do. You take off like a shot, darting away from the bike, from the man, from everything. Your focus is on nothing except getting away, getting somewhere safe, somewhere away from this guy who apparently knew more than he should. You dart upstairs faster than you thought physically possible, breath coming out laboured as you panic, not bothering to check if anyone’s nearby as you shift back to human, unlocking your door and slamming it closed behind you.

Jason let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair in frustration as he watches you scamper off. "Fuck…” he mutters under his breath, watching as your small form quickly disappears from sight. "I didn’t think that through." He scowls, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected you to panic quite that much.

Your knees suddenly give way, and you collapse to the floor with a thump. Your hand instinctively moves to press against your chest, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. Your mind is racing, your body shaking from the adrenaline and panic of the situation. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of your own breathing, your chest heaving as you gasp in sharp breaths.

You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, the adrenaline pumping through your veins making it feel like it’s about to explode. You can barely breathe, your gasps for air coming in quick, sharp pants. Your head is swimming, the world around you seeming to spin and tilt with each jerky movement. You can’t think straight, your mind filled with a swirling mix of panic and confusion. It feels like everything is closing in on you, the walls of your apartment suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

You try to focus on taking deep, calming breaths, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. Your breaths come out ragged and uneven, each one feeling like a struggle. Your chest is heaving, your heart pounding against your ribcage so hard you’re starting to wonder if it’ll burst. You drop your head down, resting your forehead against your knees, trying to steady yourself. Your mind is racing, thoughts and questions and doubts swirling in a confusing mess.

You desperately try to calm down, to ease the frantic beating of your heart. But nothing seems to work, the panic and confusion making it nearly impossible to think straight. Your head spins as you struggle to take deep breaths, each one catching in your throat like a lump. You can feel your body trembling, your muscles tense and coiled like a spring about to snap. The thought of the man outside your door, the man that knew where you lived, makes your stomach twist in knots.

It feels like your privacy has been invaded, your safe sanctuary no longer feeling so safe. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a small, trapped animal. Your mind races, trying to come up with some kind of plan, some kind of solution to this messed up situation. But you’re too lost in your own head, too focused on calming your panicked breathing to come up with anything coherent.

You feel like you’re drowning, your body overwhelmed by the flood of emotions and the physical response. You need to get yourself under control, to get your thoughts sorted out and figure out what the hell to do. But it feels like your mind and your body are in a constant tug-of-war with each other, neither one willing to give in. It’s like being stuck in a nightmare that you can’t wake up from.

You’re suddenly aware of the silence in your apartment. It’s an eerie stillness that seems to echo the chaos in your mind. The only sound is the soft rush of your own breathing, the beat of your heart a steady drum in your ears. It’s too quiet, and yet it’s almost deafening at the same time. You stay slumped on the floor, your head still against your knees, too overwhelmed to even think about getting up. You can’t breathe.

Your lungs feel like they’re on fire, each breath a struggle against the tight feeling in your chest. Your body is shaking, the adrenaline and panic having physical effects that you’re powerless to stop. You try to focus on calming yourself down, to get your breathing under control, but it’s like trying to hold onto water. Your lungs seizing up with each gasping breath. You try to focus on your breathing, trying to steady the erratic rhythm. But it’s like your body won’t obey, each inhale sharp and uneven, each exhale ragged. You can feel your pulse throbbing in your temples, echoing the desperate rhythm of your heart. You need to get yourself together, to calm down. You need to calm down.

You try to mentally force yourself to calm, to slow down your breathing, but it’s like every part of your body is working against you. Your thoughts are a tangled mess, swirling around in your head like a storm. Your heart is still racing, the panic and fear making it almost impossible to concentrate. You try to focus on something, anything to try and control the chaotic mess that is your mind. But your thoughts keep slipping away, dancing just out of reach every time you try to grasp them. You can't think, you can't breathe, you can't move.

You’re trapped in your own mind, your own body. You feel so small, so helpless, so utterly alone. The silence in your apartment is deafening, adding to the feeling of isolation. You try to will yourself to move, but you’re stuck, paralyzed by your own fear and panic. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, the erratic beats echoing in your ears as you try to force your lungs to take slow, steady breaths. You need to calm down. You need to.

You force your shoulders to relax, your eyes fluttering open. Okay, okay… You can do this. You try to remember the steps you learned for managing panic attacks. Breathe in for four, hold for… You can’t think. Your brain is fuzzy, filled with a jumbled mess of thoughts and memories. You try to remember the proper way to do it but your mind refuses to cooperate. Four or seven? Or was it nine? Exhale for eight. Fuck, I can’t think.

Your mind is a blur, your thoughts chaotic and tangled. You can’t remember the step-by-step process. Something about breathing in for a certain number of seconds, holding it, and exhaling for another number of seconds. But the details are a hazy mess, your panic making it impossible to remember clearly. You try your best, sucking in a shaky breath and holding it for what you think is the right amount of time. But your heart is still racing, your hands still trembling. It’s not working. Why isn’t it working? Why the fuck isn’t it working?

Jason stands against his bike, his gaze fixed on the window of your apartment. He's on the phone with Bruce, his voice low and filled with frustration. "I know, I know…" he mutters, raking a hand through his hair. "I fucked up," he admits, grimacing at his own carelessness.

He listens as Bruce responds, his eyes never leaving the window. He can feel the weight of his mistake sitting heavily on his shoulders. He should have known that you'd react the way you did, and he should have stuck to the plan. But he didn’t. He just acted, without thinking. Just like always, his conscience needles him.

Jason sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly as Bruce continues to speak. He knows Bruce is right, he always is. He’s good at saying the things that are hard to hear but desperately needed to be said. It’s part of what makes him great, but it also makes him irritating sometimes. Like right now.

"I know," Jason replies, his voice slightly sharp. "I get it. But what am I supposed to do now?"

There’s a pause as Bruce replies, his voice muffled over the phone. Jason’s face tightens, his jaw clenching as he listens. Yeah, yeah. Be patient. Easy for you to say.

"I know,” he repeats, his voice strained. "But the kid bolted before I could even get a word in. Now they’re probably scared shitless in there."

There's another pause. Jason can hear the steady timbre of Bruce’s voice on the other end, his words blending in a stream of low, soothing murmurs. He rolls his eyes, bristling at the older man's calm, steady tone. It always makes him feel like a kid being lectured, even though a part of him knows it’s not entirely untrue.

He lets out another sigh, his body sagging against his bike. "I’m trying," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I messed up, alright? I’ll give ‘em time to cool off." He glances back at your apartment, a pang of something he can’t quite identify tugging at his chest.

He nods along to whatever Bruce is saying, his eyes flickering back to your apartment window. He wonders if you're watching him from behind those blinds, if you’re scared, angry, confused. Probably all three, his mind supplies.

He winces at the thought, his hand tightening around his phone. He hates the thought that he might have screwed this up before it even really started. Bruce is probably right, he should give you space. But the thought of just leaving you alone and confused chafes at him, makes him want to just go in there and fix things already. He knows Bruce can feel his tension, can sense the turmoil roiling beneath his stoic exterior. Damn Batman and his stupid emotional intuition.

"Yeah, I get it," he mutters into the phone, his voice tight. "I’ll back off, give them space. But I don’t like it." There's another pause as Bruce responds, his voice low and steady.

It soothes something in him, a part of him that still yearns for guidance and approval, even though he knows he’ll never admit it. It’s a part of him that he usually denies, pushes down, but moments like these have a way of bringing it to the surface.

He's silent for a moment, letting Bruce speak. The older man's voice is steady, a low, grounding murmur that somehow manages to both soothe and irritate him at the same time. He's always been good at that, somehow finding the exact words needed to either calm him down or piss him off even more.

Jason clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth together in frustration. He’s torn. Part of him wants to just march up there, kick down the door and force you to talk to him. But he also knows that would just make things worse. He’s not good at the whole patience thing, but he knows that just charging in like a bull in a china shop is only going to make things more difficult. Damn it. He swings his leg over his bike, settling onto the seat. He takes one final look up at your window, his gaze lingering there for a moment. He can almost feel the weight of your fear and confusion from here, like a tangible thing. It makes his stomach twist into knots, his hands clenching on the grips.

But he knows he needs to let you be, to give you the space you clearly need. So, with a heavy sigh, he revs the engine and pulls away.

You wake up with a start, your body jerking out of a fitful sleep. Your body is covered in a cold sweat, your clothes sticking to your skin in an unpleasant way. You sit there in the darkness, your breathing heavy and your heart thumping hard in your chest.

Your room is still, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft sounds of the city outside your window.

Three long weeks have passed since you last saw Jason. The days have slipped by in a blur of routine and monotony. You go to work, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. It's like you're living your life on autopilot, your thoughts often drifting to the man who showed up at your door that night.

Since that night, you haven’t shifted. Something deep inside you, some instinctual feeling, tells you that it’s not safe to do so. So you stay human, your animal form buried deep within you, a constant low hum of unease. The feeling of something bad happening if you shift is a constant nagging in the back of your mind, a feeling you can’t shake despite your attempts to dismiss it as paranoia.

The longer you stay human, the stronger your instincts become. You catch yourself acting cat-like in subtle ways: tilting your head to the side when you're listening, twitching at sharp noises, even finding yourself kneading at your shirt when you’re frustrated. It’s a constant internal struggle, your instincts demanding to be let out while your rational mind tells you to keep them contained. You know it’s not healthy, not sustainable, but you can’t shake the feeling that shifting is just too risky right now.

You’re acutely aware of how unhealthy this is. You can feel the tension building within you, the constant battle between your human side and your animal side wearing you down mentally and emotionally. Your thoughts are constantly consumed with the need to shift, the need to be in your animal form, the need to let your instincts take over. But something inside you is holding you back, some primal fear that won’t let you let go. It’s a constant struggle you can’t escape, a constant mental strain that's slowly but surely eating away at your sanity.

You groggily stumble out of bed, the cool night air hitting your skin like a refreshing splash of water. It’s late, the digital clock on your bedside table reading 2:47 AM. You shiver slightly, your muscles tight and cramped from your restless sleep. Despite the chill in the air, you can’t help the feeling of relief as you step out onto your balcony. The city is quiet at this hour, the usual bustle of the day replaced with a soothing, almost eerie calm.

In a moment of clarity, you realize you’re being ridiculous. You’re tired, you’re frustrated, and damn it you’re tired of living in constant fear. You’ve been tormenting yourself for weeks over this, letting your instincts fester and your body ache from the strain. And for what? What's going to happen in the middle of the night on a Wednesday? Nothing, that’s what. And you’re not going to keep making yourself ill over some bastard stalker.

With a rush of determination, you finally give in. You let your instincts take over, your body shifting and contorting into your animal form. The relief is immediate, the tension in your body melting away as you shed your human skin. The cool night air is even more refreshing in this form, your senses heightened as you take in the night around you. Finally, you feel like you can breathe again, the weight of your human anxieties falling away like a heavy coat. You felt free.

The world looks different through your animal eyes, the details sharper and more defined. Your ears twitch, picking up sounds you'd never notice in your human form. Your muscles twitch as your animal instincts kick in, a low purring sound rumbling through your chest. It's been so long since you've let yourself be like this, since you've just been. It's exhilarating, freeing, like coming up for air after being stranded underwater for too long.

You pad over to the edge of the balcony, your paws making almost no sound on the wood. You look out at the city, the glittering lights and silent streets a stark contrast to the chaotic hum during the day. It’s quieter, calmer, a sense of peace that you haven’t felt in ages. You take a deep breath, the air filling your lungs and making your fur stand on end. You feel more alive here, more yourself, than you have in weeks.

Your muscles ripple under your fur as you stretch, arching your back and tilting your head back. A low, rumbling purr vibrates in your chest, the contentment filling you almost overwhelming. You close your eyes, letting the sounds and smells of the city wash over you. You’ll deal with everything else in the morning. For now, you’re going to stay like this and enjoy the freedom.

You sit there for a while, enjoying the cool night air and the sensation of being so deeply in tune with your instincts. The city sounds become a soothing background noise, a comforting hum in the air. You roll onto your back, stretching out your body and letting your limbs go limp. Your tail swishes lazily back and forth.

You roll onto your stomach, your muscles coiling as you prepare to spring. With a powerful leap, you propel yourself onto the nearby roof. Your paws touch down silently, the soft pads muting any sound. Your heart is racing now, the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you break into a run. Running as an animal is different than running as a human. It’s more instinctual, more right. You can feel the ground underneath your paws, the muscles in your legs bunching and releasing with every step. You tear across the rooftops, feeling more alive than you have in weeks. The night air whistles in your ears, the city passing by in a blur.

Your stride is effortless, muscles straining as you push yourself faster, the wind ruffling your fur and making your tail fan out behind you. You leap effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop, your body a blur of motion. You’re not even thinking about where you’re going, your only focus is on the sensation of speed, the feeling of freedom. Gotham flashes past you in a dizzying array of lights and shadows, your world narrowing down to your heartbeat and the rhythm of your paws hitting the roof.

Time seems to blur together as you run, the hours flying by like seconds. The city blurs past you in a wash of colors and sounds, the lights of Gotham like stars in a night sky. You don’t focus on how long you’ve been running, or how far you’ve gone, or even where you’re going. For once, none of that matters. All that matters is the wind in your fur and the feeling of freedom coursing through your veins. Your body is sore and your heart is racing, but you feel alive.

You're so focused on the run that you don't notice the black boots in your path until you're upon them. You slam on the brakes, your body slipping and sliding as you come to an undignified halt in front of a pair of long, outstretched legs. You hiss in surprise and frustration, your heart racing from the sudden stop. You glare up at the figure towering above you, tail lashing.

Nightwing chuckles, a soft, amused sound that you can hear clearly even over the pounding of your heart. He lowers his eskrima sticks, holding them loosely by his side as he kneels down to your level. The hero's eyes are sparkling with mirth, his smile slightly crooked.

"Well, hello there." he says, his voice smooth and rich.

He tilts his head to the side, studying you with a curious gaze. You're still panting from your run, your body tense and braced for a fight. Nightwing's smile widens at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with intrigue.

"You're pretty fast," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice. He extends his hand towards you, the black, latex covering his fingers gleaming in the low light. He stops just millimeters from your face, allowing you to sniff and inspect him for a moment. His scent is clean and crisp, a hint of something sweet mixed in.

After a few seconds, he starts gently petting you, his gloved hand scratching behind your ears in a soothing motion. “You’re even prettier in person, kitten.”

A wave of unexpected pleasure washes over you as he starts petting you. His touch is firm yet gentle, just the right amount of pressure to soothe the tension in your body. His hand moves from behind your ears to scratching behind your chin, the soft hiss of latex against your fur the only sound in the quiet night. The petting feels ten times better after not shifting after such a long time. You lean heavily into his palm.

“You’re a runner, huh?” Nightwing murmurs, his voice a soft rumble. “Bruce isn’t gonna like that.”

His words are casual, almost conversational, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness to them. He continues to pet you, his hand moving in a slow, soothing rhythm.

“Running around Gotham like this,” he continues, his tone dropping lower. “It’s dangerous. You should stick to the rooftops, little one. Makes it harder for the baddies to get to you.”

As your attention is occupied with looking up at Nightwing, you don’t recognise the second pair of boots that approach. You’re jolted out of your thoughts as another pair of warm hands suddenly scoop you up, grabbing your stomach and lifting you off the ground. The sensation is so sudden and unexpected that you don’t even have time to react. A startled yowl escapes you as you’re lifted off the roof and held against a broad chest.

Your body stiffens in surprise, a low hiss escaping your clenched teeth. Your instincts are screaming at you to flee, to lash out, to fight, but the hands have you in an unbreakable grip.

Nightwing straightens up, sliding his eskrima sticks into their holsters with a practiced flick of his wrists. He casts you a glance, his eyes softened with concern as he looks at your tense form in Robin’s arms.

"Careful, Little D," he says, a slight edge to his voice. "The kitty hasn’t been out in a long time."

Damian just scoffs in response, his grip on you tightening. His body is tense, his hands clenching in your fur, but there’s a gleam of curiosity in his eyes that betrays his indifference. His voice is as haughty as ever, a touch of impatience in his tone. "I know that, Grayson. I'm not a child."

Nightwing hums at Robin’s attitude, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against a nearby AC unit with a slight sigh.

"Sure you're not,” he responds back to Robin with a playful tone of annoyance.

Damian just huffs, tightening his grip on you, causing you to let out a surprised, muffled meow in response. His eyes dart down to you, a slight flicker of fascination in his cold, calculated gaze. He loosens his hold subconsciously. Petting your head in a silent apology.

The younger boy doesn’t respond to Dick’s remark, motioning for him to hurry up already.

With a grin, Dick holds his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. He reaches into his utility belt and procures a small, emerald green and black collar. A symbol you can’t recognise embroidered onto the back where the latch is.

This isn't any average collar that you can find at a pet store. This is high-tech, bordering extravagant. There's a small, golden bell hanging from the front, jingling softly with every little movement made, and there’s a silver, gold-edged tag already attached with some information you can't see yet. But what catches your eye, and fills you with a sense of dread, is the blinking red light on the centre, where it latches onto your neck. With these hook-like latches all around the inside that look all too much like they’ll pierce into you.

Before you can even think to react, Nightwing's already moving. He's faster than you can even register, the collar snatching around your neck in the blink of an eye. It tightens automatically, locking into place with a soft click. You can feel the hooks pierce into your fur and you let out a strangled whine.

As the collar locks into place, the bell on the front gleams in the low light, a soft jingle sounding as you jerk your head back in surprise.

Nightwing steps back, taking in the sight of you in the collar with a critical eye. He reaches forward and gives the bell a couple of light taps, the sound chiming softly in the night air.

"Looks good," he comments, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Tim did good."

Damian hums in agreeance with a slight nod, his grip on you still firm and unrelenting. He casts a scrutinising glance over your form, his eyes lingering on the collar for a moment before moving back to you. He brings his thumb to the latch, pushing into the embroidered symbol. “What was the cast?”

As Damian brings his thumb to the latch, pressing into the embroidered symbol, you hear a soft click, followed by a low chime. You feel the collar loosen around your neck, but it still stays in place. For a moment, you consider trying to tear it off, but a warning tug from the collar's hooks and a glare from Damian stop you short.

Dick grins. “It’s our kittens name, D.”

Damian scowls, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he turns his attention back to you, his eyes studying your form intently. It's almost unnerving, the intensity of his gaze.

He presses his thumb against the seal harder, his voice a murmur as he utters your name. When you feel the collar tighten around your neck, you try to jerk your head back out of the way, but the collar holds fast, the hooks attaching themselves deeper into your fur. You try to resist, but the more you struggle, the more your mind grows fuzzy. An intense drowsiness rushes over you, your eyelids growing impossibly heavy. Your vision starts to swim, the world around you growing dark at the edges. As the collar locks into place, the hooks latching more snugly into you, you suddenly feel trapped. Your legs buckle underneath you, sending you sprawling into Damian's arms. The latch on the collar is gone, replaced by a solid, unbreakable ring. There is no way to take it off.

The collar appears deceptively normal, made of a thick dark green leather-like material with a simple golden buckle to secure it. The only thing that gives away its high-tech design is the absence of a latch to clip it open. Most people would overlook it, mistaking it for a regular, ordinary collar.

As you black out and lay heavily in Damian's arms, Dick coos softly, bringing a hand out to rub along your fur. His touch is gentle, his tone affectionate.

"Aren't they so cute asleep?" he whispers, his gaze softening as he looks at your unconscious form.

Damian nods silently in response, his embrace around you tightening just slightly, tugging you closer against his chest. He brings his face down, gently nuzzling his chin into your soft, multicoloured fur, hiding the hint of a smile on his lips.

Dick steps forward, a smile on his face as he watches his younger brother hold you close. He reaches out to ruffle Damian's hair affectionately, before speaking up.

"Let's go home."

Guess who spent three days working on this

Anyway, it’s finally out! Send a comment or msg if you would like to be @ in chapter two and for any anon answers that I do for the fic

I had milk and warm cookies while making this, like a child.

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monstersflashlight · 5 months ago

Text

Commission for @lavender-constellation

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for commissioning, means a whole lot <3 This is a part 2 of this post, and we have this other post as a continuation. This piece is a longer version of the second one with two sex-scenes. Hope y’all like it!

Request: I’d love a part two to the monster kissing booth story, upgrading to a sex booth (but like not officially if that makes sense? Like it’s still a kissing booth but in the middle of the market, fem!reader just can’t take it anymore and it becomes a sex booth) with maybe a little bit of emphasis on a tentacle monster and orc coming to the booth 👀 Just no vampires pls!

Naughty booth

Orc x fem!reader + Tentacle monster x fem!reader || tentacle sex, size difference, oral sex, cum play (lowkey), free use, double penetration, squirting

You are coming down from an orgasm when someone screams: “Dude, come on! There’s more of us waiting!” You giggle, the werewolf (who woks two booths down, at the art booth) between your legs sighs as he grabs some tissues to help clean you the best he can so the next monster can have his turn with your soft human flesh.

“Don’t be impatient, you’ll want your sweet time when you get there,” someone else retorts. The line is so long you can’t really see how many monsters are still waiting.

You are way too fucked out already. Your pussy feels stretched even though there’s only been like three monsters so far. You are in heaven, everything feels great. A succubus gave you some of her special magic, and made sure you were extra sensitive and you could fit every size of monster. You will have to find her later and thank her. Maybe even ask her on a date… But that’s something for later.

“Leave it, come on! I don’t care about your jizz, I’ll use it as lube,” a rough voice says behind you.

The werewolf leans down and pecks your lips, promising to come later with some food. You smile softly at him, and see him go as you wait on the table he set you onto. He fucked you so good you still can’t feel your legs. But the next patron doesn’t care about it.

A big orc with a grumpy face appears over you, his erection already out and making your mouth water. “Can you take an orc, little human?” He’s so big… You pray to the goddess that he’d fit inside of you, but the succubus said every size of monster would fit, and you believe her. You really should thank her later.

“Ye- yes. I can,” you tell him. You can’t move much, too tired to participate much, but eager to get fucked all over again.

You can still feel some of the werewolf cum dripping out of your pussy, but when the orc’s fingers tease your entrance, you groan all over again. He pushes some of the cum back inside, scissoring his fingers to make sure you are prepped enough for him. He sits down on a chair and grabs your body, manhandling you until you are on his lap, your body little in comparison to his big physique.

“Prove it,” he tells you holding your body with one hand and his dick with the other. You try to fit him inside, but you can’t get the correct angle. “Come here,” he says. He moves you until your pussy is right over his dick, and you start to descend. He doesn’t wait, though. He puts his big hands against your hips and lowers you completely, making you arch your back and cry out as you hear cheering behind you.

The fact that everyone is looking and enjoying themselves with the spectacle only adds a new layer of heat to your growing arousal. You can’t believe you are still horny after all the orgasms you had, but the movement of the orc inside of you is driving you to the sky once again. He fucks you like a fleshlight, moving your body up and down like a toy and making you groan and moan in a symphony of depravity.

“Come on, little human, your pussy is perfection, let me feel you flutter around my big dick.” His words should be cringy, but at that moment, you can just groan as he keeps using your body and you get closer and closer to the edge. With precision that shouldn’t be legal, he moves your hips until his dick is rubbing against your perfect spot, making you come apart instantly. “That’s it, good goddess, I love your pussy.”

He keeps going, fucking you restlessly as your body gives up and your skin gets tingly. He pinches your nipple as he comes, the combination of the amount of cum he’s shooting inside of you and the pain-pleasure sending you into another orgasm that has your eyesight blacking out for a few seconds.

You come back to a tongue between your legs and your thighs pressing the sides of the orc’s head. He’s kneeling between your legs, at some point he manhandled you into a sitting position in the chair. He hums happily against your clit. You think you can’t take anymore, but the thing the succubus gave you is potent, so a new wave of heat fills your insides as you sigh happily as the orc cleans you out with his tongue. He makes you come around his fingers and tongue one more time before the next in line starts complaining.

“Dude you made her come three times already, let some other people enjoy!” You chuckle, but it’s lost in a loud groan as the orc sucks on your clit, his tusks framing your pussy in the most amazing way.

“They can’t stop complaining, little human, I guess is time for me to go. I hope this is not a one time thing… I had fun with your pretty pussy.” He kisses said pussy one more time before saluting you with his hand and walking away, fastening his pants as he goes.

Anticipation fills your insides when the next patron appears. You see his tentacles before you see him. Fuck, you never had tentacle sex.

“Look at that, the sex-princess is all fucked out…” The tentacles around him are moving like crazy and you have to hold your breath as one slowly approaches your body. The first contact is cold and a bit slimy, but in a good way. It feels like cooling-lube over your body, and it’s so good you groan. “Yes, like that… You love a good tentacle, don’t you, sex-princess?” You want to answer him, but he waits no longer to latch two suckers to your nipples, making you scream as the next in line laughs.

“Don’t tease her too much, I want her to still be there when my turn comes around,” she says. You can’t see which kind of monster she is, but you silently agree with her. There’s still a lot of monsters that want to try your soft human flesh.

“Okay… Okay.” The tentacle monster’s voice is reluctant, but he moves his tentacles around your body, positioning you spread over the table again.

You lay there, looking at the ceiling as you feel more tentacles join the fun. The two on your nipples start sucking harder, enticing more groans out of your mouth. Another tentacle finds your pussy and goes in without preamble. You cry out again and the crowd cheers. You think he’s going to fuck you like everyone else did, but instead, he latches another sucker inside of you, right over your G-spot. You scream at the feeling. Too good, too much.

You feel tears rolling down your cheeks as he adds another sucker to your clit, making you see stars. The combination of sensations is so good you feel something inside of you building. Something unknown, like you are going to break if he keeps going like that. When you think you can’t take anymore, he adds another tentacle to your pussy, stretching you impossibly wide as he starts fucking you with the second one.

The combination of suckers and fucking is too much and you feel something explode inside of you, a gush of liquid leaving your body and making him gasp in surprise.

“Did she just squirt?” Some monster asks, amazement filling their voice.

“Yes, she did.” The tentacle monster looks so smug you feel a bit embarrassed, but too fucked to complain. He keeps going, making you come two more times around his tentacles. “Good job, sex-princess, you did great.” He tells you before disappearing.

The next monster is already waiting, strap on and a big smile on her face.

It’s going to be a long day… and you are going to enjoy every single second of it.

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yeyinde · 7 months ago

Text

old, grizzled retired alpha!Price who gets stuck in his cabin with omega!Reader when the winter roads, the only way in and out of his domain, melt with the encroaching spring. and really. what's an alpha like him supposed to do when an untouched, unclaimed omega like you—so sweet, so desperate—is thrown headfirst into a vicious, blistering heat without any suppressants. it's not like either of you really have a choice, after all.

dub con; age difference; power imbalance; rough sex; size difference, size kink; abo dynamics: knotting; breeding kink (astronomical); mean!Price, Dom!Price; unsafe sex; oral (f!receiving); slight innocence kink; implied kidnapping; coercion; slight baby trapping; possessive, greedy Price pulling strings from behind the scenes, as per usual. this is basically Alpha John Price knotting Omega Reader in mating press, bullying you into submission

It's an accident, of course.

An unfortunate combination of poor timing and human error.

But this accident culminates in Price folding his body over you—mating press, you note a touch hysterically; you'd have expected him to be all tradition: presenting to an alpha on your hands and knees, cunt bare for the taking, waiting to be claimed. And while it might not be traditional, Price will claim you tonight. Bully his cock into your drenched cunt, split you wide on the thick of him, on his knot (fuck, fuck, fuck—), and keep you plugged up around him until the unexpected heat passes.

And really. What's an old, grizzled alpha like him supposed to do when an untouched, unclaimed omega like you—so sweet, so desperate—is thrown headfirst into a vicious, blistering heat. It's not like either of you really have a choice, after all. It's agony. It's want. Primal, instinctual. You need him. Ache with it. The urge, the desperation, to be filled. Claimed. Conquered. Owned.

As he presses bluntly against your drenching slit, notching heavy and insistent into your fluttering, aching hole, spilling slick in thick rivulets down your thighs, over the engorged head of his cock, you can't help but wonder how could you be so stupid?

“Spread your legs for me.”

The command rolls off of his tongue, slips—liquid, molten—down his chin, where it dangles for a moment. Pebbled hest. A globbing demand. You want to roll away when it starts to fall, unspooling slowly until it drips down to your chest, but you can't. You're stuck. Trapped. All you can do is watch helplessly as this barking order, matchstick casuistry, touches your kerosene-slick skin, igniting in a bloom of fire that spreads, rapidly, through your veins. Your body.

An Alpha's whim must be met. Even this one. This one—

Your former chief, boss. Now retired in the mountains, chiselling out a little place for himself in a corrie, pitching this log bivouac beside a marbled blue tarn. Cut off from the rest of civilisation every spring when the only way in—and out—melted into a raging, uncrossable stretch of river. The ravine frothing too furiously for boats to dock safely on either side. Trapped here with him until next winter—

(oh god oh god—)

You don't know how it got to this point. Scorched. Soaked. With him leaning over you, in all his tartarean glory, making demands of your body as easily as pulling on loose thread between his thick fingers.

You could blame Gaz for this.

Sat pretty at his desk, idling a jar of gun oil in his hands. Your gun is spread out on the desk, taken apart. Worrying his lip between his teeth, he said, “someone should check in on Price. Haven't heard from him in a while.”

Through a quick game of hierarchy, that someone ended up being you. Forced to trek halfway up a mountain just to make sure your mercurial boss didn't die over the winter. Bitten off more than he could chew and too much of a proud Alpha to admit defeat, and call for help.

You had enough suppressants to last you there and back. Three days. One in the morning, one in the afternoon. Price, despite his surly disposition, is an intense Alpha to be around—

Even for Betas.

Some, unintentionally, succumb to his whims without even a forethought spared on rationality. It's innate. He says something, and people listen—

Like now. Hours after you discovered your suppressants were gone, and his heavy, cloying scent thickened in the air, suffocating you. When he leaned against the thick log doorframe on the porch of his cabin, thick arms folded across his broad chest, murmured, “come all this way just to see me?” and all at once, the world fell out from under you—

Plunging you into his arms, his embrace. His growl in your ear, “you’re in heat,” he grunted, fists balled against your sides. “fuckin’ Christ—” and the death sentence he imparted on you: “either I take care of this, or your heat becomes too much for me, and I tear you to pieces. But it doesn't matter does it, mm? You can't make it back down in this state,” more snarling anger, dry heat. Scorching. His chin jerked to the river at the foot of the mountain. “In a few hours, It’ll be melted through. Uncrossable.”

Per usual, John Price leaves you very little room for choice, doesn't he?

Slowly, shakily, your pitched knees part, unveiling your bare cunt to the man towering over you with a condescending coo on his lips, red-hot desire in his smouldering Tartarean eyes.

“Tha’s it,” he murmurs, voice full of sarky delight. “Such a good omega for me, aren't you?”

It’s not meant to be answered—the jeer chock full of hyperbole. Despite this, your body responds instantly. Back arching, legs spreading out wider around the bulk of his frame, nearly flush against the warmed fur covering the floor of the cabin—wolf, he muttered proudly before he pushed you down against the soft pelt, mouthing teasing at your jaw. Chest heaving. Fingers curling, knotting into the pelt.

The urge to present for him is intense. An unanswerable call when he pins you down on your back, body a cage keeping you trapped where you lay. Open, inviting. All for him.

This surly, awful man—

His hands are rough, padded with calluses and hard, jagged scars that jut up from his flesh. It feels abrasive, sandpaper grit, when he leans down, hand pressed against your knee. The drag, then, when he lets it drop down the skin of your inner thigh, makes you keen in the back of your throat. Gnarled palms bleed heat into your soft skin. The contrast is dizzying—size, scale, texture; it all leaves you breathless. Victim to your own instincts, ones that scream at you to roll over. To run. To make this massive, virile alpha yours—

He cups your pussy in the palm of his hand, heel pressed against your clit, fingers sliding between your slit, touching your entrance with the tip of his middle finger. The way the length of it swallows you whole, long, thick fingers reaching beneath you, grazing the cheeks of your ass, sets you on fire in a way you've never felt before.

Price sees it. He must. He leans back on his haunches, broad chest heaving as he stares, transfixed, at his hand folding over you, wrist propped against your mons.

He groans low in his chest. When he speaks, desire scorches his words to cinders.

“Ever had an Alpha's cock here?”

His question is scorching.

In a small town, choice is slim. The ratio of alpha to omega, and beta to both, is skewed highly in the latter's favour. You think, Price included, there are maybe five eligible alphas in the whole township. Two omegas, yourself included. Everyone else—

Unbothered, unburdened by this horrific anomaly of genetics, of lingering animal instinct. A relic of when people were more beast than man.

But even with that, the suitors lining up ready to claim you since you arrived three years ago is negligible. Nearly nonexistent.

The shame of it is absurd. You know without any shadow of a doubt that your worth is not measured by the number of Alpha's wanting to claim you, but that prickling unease in the back of your head won't be quelled by common sense. Who cares, you want to scream. Who fucking cares—

“No,” you bluster; choking on your anger, your shame. Despite being an omega—rare as they are—everyone in town seemed soured by your scent. Adverse to the pungent pheromones you released innately.

“No?” He echoes, and the stab of worthlessness needling into your pericardium makes you want to howl, want to cry.

He doesn't let you. He leans down, hand resting on the floor beside your head, the other still anchored to your cunt, and presses his lips to the shell of your ear. His breath is a humid kiss that tickles across your flesh.

“Good.”

The praise bubbles in your marrow. You melt under the heat, whimpering. Head lulling to the side, exposing your neck. Offered up for him to take.

He huffs, chest expanding. The coarse bed of hair tangled on his sternum in a smattering of black catches on your nipples, the rough graze making you gasp, soundless, into the humid space between your bodies. Aching already and he barely touched you.

Price follows the twist of your chin, lips pressed flush to your ear. With him crowding so close, you can feel the rumble, the low vibration, through his chest before he even speaks. A soft purr, sultry and rich. Pulling you deeper into the throes of your submission with a startling ease.

“I don't share, and I'd hate to have to tear another alpha apart for touching you,” his beard scrapes against your cheek, words soaked in possessive fury at the thought alone. “You're mine.”

You want to fight against it. Against him. No one owns you. Has claimed you.

You have only ever belonged to yourself.

“M’not—”

Price shushes you with a nip, blunt teeth dragging down the plush flesh of your earlobe. “Don't fight it, love. Just—give in.”

You won't. Can't—

Despite the heat—heavy, oppressive, and wet, like the balmy swelter of a tropical jungle; bubbling dross on molten metal—you fight. Rage. Push back against the heady scent he exudes, ones meant to soothe, melt. Until you're malleable. Tensile. Mouldable to fit his needs, his desires, his cock. Putty in his scorching hands.

It bleeds through, though—noxious and potent. The acrid miasma of a wild, untameable man: leather, hide, and animal rot; bleached bones; felled timbre. A wet forest after a wildfire; charred wood, argillaceous soil. Damp. Cloying. Choking.

Reeking of authoritative power, he leans over you, breathes in the heaving exhales you let out. Lets the taste of you sit on his tongue, curl between his crooked teeth.

He's close like this. All fire, all heat. And underneath the scent of a pursuing alpha, you pick up hints of him. Of what he smelled like before, when you were his subordinate and he spent most of his days making yours miserable. Stale smoke, wet tobacco, old leather, dry whiskey.

You hate how much it calls to you.

Maybe sensing your defiance, or growing tired of this push-pull game, he huffs out a breath that sounds less aggrieved than you'd want it to, full of playful amusement. Like he expected this. Like he knew you'd fight back with brittle fists and wicked teeth.

Price pulls back, leaning against his haunches. Content now to devour you at a distance. His eyes leave a scorching trail from your heaving breast, your quivering stomach before fixing once again on the way your pussy is swallowed by his hand. His middle finger circles your sopping hole. The tease is a burst of pleasure, of sensation. A tickle, a taunt. The drag of it makes a loud, sticky noise; the unmistakable slosh, the squelch of just how wet you are for him.

And it is for him. All for him.

Your heat is an incipient bloom on the horizon—a slow, crawling sunrise. You shouldn't be this slick yet. This drenched.

The embarrassment blisters through you when he makes a choked sound in the back of his throat. A loan bitten, swallowed before it can fully form.

Price coos, voice scorched. Full of char. “All’fer me, mm? Such a good little omega.”

You hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it—

—but nearly choke yourself on a moan.

He chuckles, dark and rich. The sound entirely too similar to crushing a fistful of charcoal, and you're reminded suddenly why he's unmated at the age he is.

Surly bastard. As approachable as a fucking grizzly bear in a rut.

Your lips twist, jerking downward. “Fuck you—”

He circles your rim once more, chuffing low as he does so, letting the slick noise of your soaked cunt speak on his behalf.

You bite back a snarl, letting it fizzle out in the back of your throat. However reckless you might be, however much you might dislike him, he's still an alpha. Snarling in his face would only get you bent over his knee (at best).

And at worst, well. Maybe they'll find whatever is left of you next spring.

Next spring.

Thinking about just how long you're trapped here with him—no phone, no service—makes you want to cry. To break down, to—

No. You can't. Won't. Not in front of him.

Not Price. The awful man who spent three years picking away at everything you've ever done. Writing you up for every little misstep. You wondered then, and you still wonder now, if he hated you because you were an omega who dared to work with him, as his equal, or if his brand of distaste was just for you.

(The latter, it must be—he’s always been so kind to Alex, an older omega.

You're just the exception.)

This sprawling train of thought is clipped when he sinks his finger into you, to the second knuckle, and you choke.

“Ah, fuck, don't—”

He curls his finger. “Protest as much as you'd like, but if you didn't want this, your pussy wouldn't be this fuckin’ wet would it, love?”

He's right. You hate him for it.

But he doesn't give you a chance to complain. He slips his finger out, the wet drag of your flesh pulling on him, unwilling to let go, is loud. Awful. You burn hot—hotter still when he groans at the noise.

“Such a good girl for me, ain't you?”

Price circles your entrance as he says it, pressing two fingers against your rim, rubbing. Gathering slick. You wish it didn't feel as good as it did—electric shocks of pleasure sparking at his touch, but the feel of it is a tease. You want more. Much more—

He presses those long, thick fingers inside again. Two this time. All you can do is mewl around the sudden stretch, the sting.

Your discomfort is a palpable thing. Unease, distress—the acid scent plumes around you, leaking from your pores. Price stops suddenly, fingers still crooked in a half knot inside you.

“You're tight,” he drawls, jowls working. Tensing. His eyes flash, heat lightning. “You—”

He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes narrowing into slits. They drop down to where he disappears inside of you, flesh stretched tight around him. Drilling into the way the slick runs down his fingers, over his knuckles, drenching the back of his hand, and he hums.

“Has anyone ever touched you here before?”

More shame. It bubbles in your chest, this awful, insidious thing.

It hasn't been for a lack of suitors, really. But rather, other things have always taken precedence over heats, over ruts. School, then your career. And well—

Betas around here don't seem very interested, either.

Maybe you have peculiar wants. Urges, needs, that you've always been hesitant to fill. A wellspool of desire that runs deep, vicious. You want to mate. For keeps.

Maybe they can scent that on you. A loud cry that says, stay away.

You take a shuddering breath before nodding shallowly, twisting your head away so you don't have to look at the patronising gleam swirling in frothing Tryhennian.

“Look at me.”

The command bludgeons your resolve. Your chin jerks back immediately. Desperate to obey. To listen. Frantic with the urge to quell the alpha, to soothe his plight—

But where you expect anger, you're met with the most peculiar sort of expression etching itself into his brow, his rugged face.

His lips parted, lax. The picture of surprise.

Your eyes widen. A gasp is ripped from your throat at the raw, fractured look in his eyes. It's new, this. Unexpected. Where you anticipated scorn is instead a slow, unwinding look of want, of greed, so thick, it glues to the air.

Patchwork hunger, predatory and damning, hews into your skin. Fine needles piercing, pricking, along your flesh.

Branded ownership. You feel it settle against your chest. Dig in when his chest expands with his, hissing inhale.

There's a dark tremble to his shoulders that makes your toes curl.

“I should take this slow, then, mm? Prep you. Get you nice and ready for my cock,” his words have you keening, arching for him. Achingly empty. His hand lifts, settles against your quivering stomach. The slightest pressure makes you shake, quieten; submitting to the touch. “But. I don't have the patience for that.”

He slots his thighs between your legs, pressing it tight against your cunt. The pressure—blissful pleasure; frantic at the touch—is almost your undoing, but there's a plexiglass between full submission and the urge to flee. Still. The heat is rapacious. The desire, the yearning, doesn't abate.

The haze is thick. So thick. It would be easy to slip under the veil, to let yourself go. To give in—

"Easy, omega," it comes out as a guttural rasp; the charcoaled command uttered in a mockingly placating tone. The sort one might use to soothe a wild animal or a startled mare. Fitting, of course, when you're rutting against the thick spread of his thigh, leaking slick all over him.

down girl, he doesn't say, but he might as well have because you're clenched tight around nothing, aching hollowly in a way that rings through your bones. You can't help it, you want to whine when he huffs, lips pulling downward in a frown. Disappointed in you, perhaps. But how do you fight instinct when you're hardwired to want to spread your legs at the pungent, lour stench of a virile alpha's incipient rut, the briny tang of his pre-cum saturating the air. A heady elixir that sends shockwaves of agonising need through your body.

It's too much. The burn of your heat is a vicious, deadly combatant. Knife to your jugular, hand around your throat, it demands compliance.

And when he reaches down to his stained slacks, drawing your eye to the tent in the front, to the dark pool at the front where he leaks his spend into the fabric, you keen. Jealousy scorching through you instantly at the sight; animal instinct that makes you want to bare your teeth at it because his cum is just for you, all for you—

Amusement pierces the air. Punctuates it with the heavy, noxious weight of his satisfaction.

He hums, reaches into his slacks. Curls his fist around the thick of himself.

“Want this, don't you?”

You gnash your teeth against your desperation, legs popping open further. Inviting. Eager.

“Of course you do. Want this—” he frees his cock, pulling it over the band of his trousers, and you choke.

It's wet with his spend, and angry looking. The mushroomed head engorged, swollen. Flushed a deep vermillion. Veins run the length of it. Pulsing with his need. His want.

Price groans, strokes his hand down his shaft. Pearlescent beads of pre-cum bubble up from the tip.

You ache. Suddenly, viciously. Hollow. Empty. You want him. Need him—

“Yeah? Want this fat cock inside of you, mm?”

And you, finally, give in—

"Please, please, Price—"

"No." He taps the head of his cock against your clit once, twice. A warning. A reprimand. You keen at the whitehot agony, the unfathomable burn of pleasure ripping through your body. He coos into it. Echoing your whimper with a derisive snort. Mocking. Cruel. You hate him. Hate him. Need him so badly you think you might go insane if he doesn't pry you apart right this instant—

"I'll give you my knot when I'm good and ready. Now, be good for me, mm?” His eyes are dark in the harsh flicker of the wood stove. Burning liquid black. Molten puddles of crushed sapphire. You hate the way he looks at you. Hate how it makes you want to roll over on your belly, soft and submissive, giving all of yourself over to this terrible man. “That's it. Good omegas get what they want. Bad ones get punished. And I don't think you'll like being taken over my knee, would you?"

His words send a fresh wave of heat through your veins. Hellfire. Scorching. You want to blame the fever on the stove burning away in the corner of the room, on a sickness you can't scrape off of your bones no matter how many times you chisel into your skin. An infection eating away at you from the inside out.

But it's futile. He doesn't care about your excuses. He never has—

“Spread yourself. Go on and show me that pretty cunt you want me to ruin so badly.”

Unspooled, liquid under his bulk, you don't even hesitate before your fingers unfurl from their fight knot in the fur, making a slow, timorous crawl down the supine length of your sun-scorched body.

Your flesh feels foreign, like it belongs to a stranger. To someone else. Each touch is a phantom whisper gliding along sweat-slicked skin; new and different, and not yours.

Not yours at all because your skin would never prickle with goosebumps over the sight of your chief kneeling between your legs, the hair on his thigh matted, slick with your wetness. The unruly black thatch darkening into a patch where you shamelessly rutted against him, eagerly seeking friction over the place you ache the most.

For him. All for him.

It's impossible. Impossible. And yet—

As your fingers curl over the tops of your thighs, notching into the soft, heated flesh at the bend of your hip and groin, you feel just how soaked you are for him. How wet. How eager. It stains your skin, reaches almost down your bent knees. Beneath you is a puddle drenching the fur.

Your fingers slip, sliding in the mess you made. You flush when he huffs, humoured by it all, and dip your chin away from the scorching, piercing look in his cerulean eyes, drilling holes in the apex of your thighs. Greedily taking in his fill as your fingers glide over your sopping folds, gingerly parting them. Presenting to him on your back. Ripe for the taking.

“One hand,” he rasps, words clicking in his throat. He holds his hand up, curling his fingers down and leaving his index and middle finger up in a pointed V. “And the other—” he swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing. “I want you to touch your clit for me.”

You follow his instructions, slipping your fingers between your folds, opening yourself up for him. Your other hand sits on your mons, fingertips brushing your swollen clit as heat floods you. Electric. Each touch is a shock of pleasure roiling down your spine, and more slick dribbles out of you, dripping down your aching, empty hole, down your ass, until it soaks into the furs below.

The scent of a needy omega fills the air. Your scent.

Where most are sweet, supple, yours has always had a bite. A tartness to it, an earthy tang. Boysenberry. Loam. Lemongrass. Beeswax. You bluster. Flushing. Embarrassment plumes up, mushrooming in the air—smoked orange peels, coral berry sour—and you wonder if he's repelled by it, this strange smell of yours—

Price’s head rolls back, nose pitched in the air. Breathing in deep, groaning with his exhale. Eyes fluttering, flashing. He eats it clean from the air. Mouth dropping open, panting.

It's then when the unmistakable musk of a pleased Alpha—smoked tobacco and sage—clots beside your scent do you feel the prickle of free will hewing into your periphery.

None of what he demanded of you carried the unignorable weight of a command. Before you can even think of the ramifications of that, he's moving. Heavy body falling, sliding down the furs. His hands come to rest, hot and firm, on your knees, spreading you wider, wider, to fit the boxy heft of his broad body between them.

He hovers over you, head bending to fit in the brackets of your thighs. Leading with nose, nostrils flaring, fluttering, as he pulls in deep lungfuls of your scent. Over and over, and—

His head bows. Humid air ghosting over your sopping cunt when he exhales. It's then when he dips his chin further, further, until the bottom of his face is flush with your pussy, mouth parting around a groan that reverberates through the floorboards, rattles your bones.

“You smell s’fuckin’ good, love,” he rasps, choked. His eyes are gyres. They might just swallow you whole. You fight back a shiver, resolve threadbare. Stitches coming apart. “Bet you'd taste even better.”

It's all the warning you get before he pushes his face into you, mouth dropping open to let his tongue lull out. Licking a scorching stripe from hole to clit. And, oh—

Oh.

Your head drops, eyes slipping closed at the liquid feeling between your thighs. The whitehot sensation of his tongue laving across your slit.

So this—this—is what you've been missing out on. Pure feeling. Molten. It blooms in your loins, knots tight like a spooled bow.

Your fingertips are in the way from him pressing his tongue flat against your clit, where you throb the most, and you move to pull your hand away. To give him access to everything, all of it. Every part of you he wants. It's all his, his, so long as he keeps doing what he's doing with his mouth, his tongue—

But his hand slashes through the air, snatching your wrist in a vice grip. Stopping your retreat. You whimper, hips flexing up, wanting his mouth. Needing more of what he's doing between your thighs.

“Look at me,” he demands. You obey. Instantly. His eyes are black holes. Everdark. Eclipsed, totally, by the bleed of his black pupils spreading out. You moan, thighs parting wider, wider. “Good girl. Such a good omega for me, aren't you?”

He doesn't let you answer. Draws your wet fingers to his mouth, pressing the pads against his lower lip, nails scratching his teeth. He breathes in, shoulders bunching up. Eyes fluttering again, rolling back in his head. And it's divine—

To have such a surly, contemptuous Alpha on his knees for you, fat, heavy cock drooping between his thighs, spitting a steady stream of spend onto the floor. Wasteful. You keen again, back arching. Needy. Wanting—

Price sucks in your fingers, tongue laving between your knuckles. The pressure, the feeling, is good. You like this. Like his mouth.

But your fingers are not where you want him.

“Please, Price. Please—”

He pulls off with a pop. Leans his cheek on your inner thigh.

“What do you want? Use your words, omega.”

Heat blooms in your chest, but you're long past the point of embarrassment anymore. Shame. It's all awash under the torrent of need. Desire. Swept in the rage of your heat. Nearly rendered delirious by it.

“Want your mouth.”

“Where?”

“M–my—” you swallow, fingers spreading your folds wider. Opening yourself up to him. He glances down, nostrils flaring once again. But he doesn't move. Won't. You groan, head rolling back. “My pussy. Please. Want your mouth on my pussy, Price—”

He groans, low. Dark. But then he's moving. Head bowing. His tongue is scorching. Whitehot. He drags it through your folds, teasing at your rim. Presses it inside, just a touch, a shallow thrust. And—

Ah.

You make a noise in the back of your throat. Awful, wet. Choking. The feeling of his tongue inside of you is good. Beyond words.

It slips in more. The full length. Stuffed. You keen, arching. Aching. Hips flexing, jerking against his mouth. He lets you ride his face like this, fucking your hole with his fat tongue, nose glued tight to your clit.

All you can do is sob his name, fingers curling, knotting, into his damp hair, holding him close.

His tongue leaves you, sliding up your seam until it cups your clit. Laves over it. He lifts his chin, and seals his mouth over you. Sucks—

The spool unravels. Pressure released. You flood around him, on him. Pussy gushing slick over his chin, drenching him. Drowning him.

Lips sealed over your throbbing clit, he moans low. Deep. Eyes rolling back in his head. Gyre blue.

“Tha’s it,” he coos, pushing two thick fingers inside your throbbing cunt. “Think you're about ready for my cock, ain't you?”

He doesn't let you answer. And—

You don't think you can form a coherent thought. Running on sensation. On instinct. You make to roll over on your belly, ass pushed into the air, ready for his knot, but he stops you. Hands squeezing your hips. Firm.

“No. I'll take you like this.”

And it's hard to reconcile the urge to present with his demands. His wants. You whimper. He answers it with a grunt.

“Stay still.”

You flatten to the fur, body melting. Lax.

“Good girl.”

The praise is a serrated knife to your jugular, cutting a jagged line across your skin. Spilling blood. You quieten under his bulk, now. Desperate. Docile. Collared in blood.

His hands push behind your knees, lifting your legs. Pushing, pushing. Until they rest under your ears. Spread open for him. Ready to be claimed, owned. Bred.

“Price, Price, please—”

He shushes you with a coo, pitching your heels over his shoulders. Shuffling closer until his heavy cock, hanging thick and fat between his legs, bumps against your ass. Your cunt. You whimper, back arching. Needing him to fill you up. Split you apart.

Ruin you—

“Gonna fuck you now. Knot you.”

It's a warning. A threat. You feel it trail over your skin, branding. A collar. You lift your chin, letting it settle there. So long as he makes you feel this good, he can do whatever he wants to you. Anything—

And so, he does.

His cock is a heavy weight against you, pressing. Pushing. He doesn't wait for you to adjust, for your body to acclimate to the burning stretch of him splitting you apart.

Your slick aids in the brutal onslaught of his cock prying your untouched flesh apart, chiselling open a space just for him to fit.

It should hurt more. And maybe it would if you weren't drowning in the throes of a vicious heat, numbed to everything but the way his cock feels as it slides, inch after inch, inside of you. Thick, fat. Pulsing. You pant shallowly, head turning. Chin pressing into your shoulder.

It's good. This burn, this ache. This madness—

“Christ—” he spits, sounding almost angry. Furious. You peer up at him, eyes wet with unshed tears. Through the murky haze, you catch the clench of his jaw, the prominent divot between his brows. Face tightening with pleasure. Rapturous. “This cunt was made for me, wasn't it, love?”

“Yes—” it's breathless. An airless whisper. “All yours, all yours, John—”

You repeat this as he reaches halfway inside of you. As he bends down, mouth feverish he slots it greedily over your lips in a bruising, sloppy kiss. You mutter it against his teeth, his tongue. He swallows your acquiescence, your submission, down with a moan. Drinks you in as he takes, takes, until you're full of him. Stuffed.

John bottoms out with a moan that trembles down your throat, balls pressed flush against your ass. Split apart on him. Claimed.

He settles, letting you adjust to the sensation. Content to simply mouth sloppy kisses over your face, your cheek, jaw. Nipping your skin. Basking in this, in finally having you stretched around him. His pleasure is ripe in the air. Heavy and acrid. Smoked leather. Fresh, and heady.

It's novice, this feeling. This pressure. This fullness. Your hand drops, falls, palm sliding between his heavy, hairy belly, resting over yours. Feeling the unmistakable bump of him rearranging your anatomy to fit—barely—in you.

He lifts up, elbow dropping to the floor beside your head so he, too, can feel for himself the way he fits within you. His hand comes to lay beside yours, flattening over the bulge of him protruding from your flesh. His cock jerks inside of you, twitching. The feeling makes your toes curl, your cunt throb.

“Like that, huh?”

Your nod is slowly, languorous. Everything feels unreal. Like you're staring at the world from underwater. Inky. Fractured. Raw.

The burn of the stretch is there, throbbing like a bruise. A contusion. He scents the sting, the ache, and slides his hand down, cupped over your swollen, stuffed pussy. Fingers tangling into the thick bed of curls grazing your mons. Price quells the burn with a swipe of his thumb rolling over your clit.

It has you clenching, tightening even further around him. Feeling the thick stretch thrumming inside of you. Plugging you up. And fuck—

If that doesn't just light you up from the inside out. Supernova. Blistering heat.

Pieces of yourself chip off, fluttering to the soft, downy fur below you with each heavy breath he takes. Your heat swells to a crescendo, breaking over the edge of your lingering cognisance. It's all sensation now. Pure, unfettered feeling.

And Price takes no time at all to exploit it. To batter your melting, liquid body into submission even further.

It starts with shallow grinds against the plug of your womb. Carving more space inside of you for him to fit, to ruin.

He fucks you like this. Cock heavy and fat inside of you. Giving you the full length until your rim catches on the burgeoning swell of his knot. Over and over again. Pulling deep, delirious moans from your throat. Breaking you to pieces on the spread of him seated deep. Tugging more and more compliance from your body, wringing pleasure out of every nerve ending.

The sounds are horrific, and had you any sense of self left to mull over them, your shame, embarrassment, would have burned you alive. The wet squelch of your cunt swallowing him down, over and over and over again—

“Needy little pussy,” he bites out, blunt teeth skirting over your pulse point. A tease.

The press of them heightens everything, elevating it to a tipping point.

This is what you were made for. What every atom in your body screams out to. Wanting. Needing to be spread out under him, this dark, awful man.

“I'm not going to claim you,” he's saying, words wet against your temple, tongue snaking out to catch the droplets of sweat beading on your hairline.

It makes you whine in dismay, desperate for his teeth buried in your skin.

“No, no, please—! I need it, John, I need it—”

“Then beg me. Beg for it—”

You do. It babbles out of you. Broken, fractured. Pleas, orisons, screamed to heavens; aching for his teeth on you, in you. Claiming you for his own. You want it more than you think you've ever wanted anything in your whole thing. Half of you, empty and vacant, hollow, begging to be filled. To be completed.

And really—

You've felt it from the beginning. This stirring, agonising want. Desire. A bone-deep yearning for the man who looked at you, up and down, and dismissed you with a charred scoff and shallow shake of his head.

“What's a little omega like you doin’ runnin’ around the woods, love? Ought to be at home—”

Where you belong.

It didn't make sense at the time. He's so different with everyone else—Alex, Farah—but reserves his scorn, his discrimination, just for you. Special little thing, aren't you?

But even still. Still. You tried. Struggled against the crushing weight of his derision, burying your fingers into the rubble, clinging on for three, devastating years until your nails broke, bled. Left stains on the pavement. Until he, stiff-lipped and clipped, told you he was retiring. Escaping the loose binds of a non-existent town on the fringes of civilisation for the sanctum of the wild, untamed forest. The mountains.

You wanted him to say, come with me, even if you might have gouged his eyes out for even asking. Tore his still-beating heart out with your bare hands.

But instead, he nodded at you. A quiet goodbye. Left you bewildered, furious, and unclaimed, unwanted, and now—

Those blood-stained fingers dig into the softness of his nape, biting flesh until it gives, breaks, under the jagged stumps of your nails, and you wrench him forward, into you, snarling mad. Apoplectic with fury at being denied so long.

“Fuck you,” you bite out, brittle with ire. Disobedient even through the noxious curdle of heat subduing your senses. Your rationale. “Fuck you, John—!”

His skin breaks first. The bitter scent of hot, wet pavement, pennies in the summer sun, sickly sweet iron, fills the balmy cabin. He groans, choked, throat bobbing, jaw clenching. You don't let him get anything out.

You pull him by the scruff of his neck into you, face buried in your collarbones. Heels dig in, sliding along the slick sweat of his broad back. Finding purchase against the knob of his spine, and pressing. Pushing. Kicking at him until he slots his hips into yours, pressed as deep as he could possibly go. Throbbing inside of you. Spitting molten spend as he wrenches you open.

The first person to ever do so.

He must know this, feel it simmering in the air, because he groans low, deep. It bubbles out of his chest, a half-bitten snarl saturated in the smoke of his desire. Feverish, possessive.

“Mate me,” you demand, head tilting back into the awaiting plinth of his palm, cushioning your crown. “Claim me.”

He—John, you think, delirious; gone—John places a tender kiss to your pulse point, soft despite the uneven, desperate way he fucks into you now. All that careful finesse falling to pieces under your foot, growing choppier as he sinks in deep. Pistoning shallowly into your sloppy cunt, taking. Taking.

“Please, John,” you breathe, clenching tight around him. Needing that last push to drop over this vertiginous precipice that yawns out, a growling, hungry chasm, before you. Heat spears into your marrow, drowning out all the fight inside of you. Dousing those flames until they're a smouldering heap; clumps of hot, wet ash in your hands. “Please take me—”

The growl he makes is inhuman. Lingering in the shadow of it is a mocking burst of laughter. Dark, hellish. He leans in close, mouth tight against your skin, and whispers, “already have, love.”

Those words lose any meaning when he opens his mouth wider, licking a stripe over your neck. A soothing rinse. And then he buries his teeth into your pulse, tearing through your skin. Claiming. Owning. It rips through you—all heat, sensation: blistering, inferno. You burn alive beneath him, smouldered under his possessive, heavy bulk.

Price leans back with a vicious, terrible growl. Blood dripping down his chin, mixing with the tacky slick of you still covering his face. Pinkish under the waning light of the dying sun.

The sight of it, the horrible throb in your throat, breaks over you.

His tongue flicks out, chasing the drops. With a swipe of his finger over your clit, you fall to pieces around him, clenching. Throbbing. Screaming with your release. Gushing around him as he grips you tight, working you through it, muscles fluttering, flexing. The deluge of pleasure is molten, spreading liquid through your body. Inescapable bliss.

He grunts, pace slowing to a sloppy grind. Letting you leech pleasure from the overfull feeling of being speared open on him. Knot swelling. Bumping into your rim. John gives you respite for a moment, content to hump against your messy cunt until you melt into the furs, panting with exertion. With pleasure.

He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, stroking. Shoving you into the side of too much, of pleasure-pain. Overstimulated. You mewl, whimpering.

“Greedy girl,” he chides, cruel, and pulls back. The wet drag of his cock against your sore, sensitive walls is overwhelming. You keen, shaking under him. “Couldn't wait to cum around my knot, mm?”

He doesn't wait for your excuses. He never does. He just thrusts into you again, a slow climb until his knot bludgeons into you. Fatten up at the base of his cock. He holds it there, grinding it against your pussy as you arch, mewling at the sting of your hole being stretched further around the curve of his knot.

“You can take it,” he coos. The muscles in his shoulders flex. You reach out, petting along his chest. feeling him. All powerful, corded muscles hiding under a thick layer of pelt. Soft flesh.

His knot catches. Slips. He bullies it against your sore, stuffed rim, throwing the full heft of his weight behind his shallow grinds until finally, finally, your body yields. Giving in. Opening for him.

He sinks in with a broken groan, mouth dropping open. Lax. His shoulders slump under your hands as he pumps you full of cum. Plugged up tight on his fat, pulsing knot. It's too much. Too much. All you do is cling to him, nails biting into his flesh. Marking him like the bloody ring around your neck marks you as his.

Locked together, damned, he leans down. Huffs in your ear.

“Gonna fuck you full all spring until it takes, love. Until you're swollen, fat, with our kid.” His voice is a thunderclap. A promise. A threat. “Won't keep them lonely for long, though, will you? We'll give him a sister or brother. Gonna breed this pussy as much as I want, mm. Give us a big family. I've already started on the nursery for you. After your heat, I'll let you pick the colours, yeah?”

Satiated Alpha permeates the air. It's thick in the back of your throat, clogging your senses. Drowning you. Pulling you under.

The last thought before you sink below the waterline is a broken, fragmented sense of dread, confusion. It comes in a daze. Flickering embers. Quickly snuffed out by his palm gliding across your eyes, closing them.

“Sleep now,” he rasps, hips stuttering as he fills you with more cum. Uncomfortably full, it floods your cunt, locked tight against your womb. “Gonna need it when my rut starts later.”

And, docile, collared, you obey, drifting. Dazed. But wondering, in the back of your head, in the part of you not yet consumed by the ink-black darkness that eats away at you, why did he build a nursery for you if he didn't know you were coming today—

—swallowed, eaten. his teeth are buried in your neck once more, and all thoughts dissolve in an instant. Dissipate into the gnawing aether where he splits them between his molars, gulps them down.

nothing matters anymore. you belong to him—

The cabin reeks of satiated omega—sweet, pungent. Rotten apple peels, and burnt orange. It's this heavy scent—sex, loam, and you—that draws him out of his doze, tired eyes blinking against the flickering light of the wood stove pushed into the corner.

Price groans when he shifts, body aching. Muscles stiff, sore, from disuse.

It’s been a long, long time since he knotted an omega, and he underestimated the sharpness of your claws, your needle-like teeth. But he wears the marks, the scars, of your aggressive coupling on his shoulders, his back. Clawed up, torn. He grimaces when a clotting scab breaks, peels back from the wound. Blood drips down his spine in a steady, ticklish trickle.

It took a lot more than he expected to make you submit. Had to force you to take his knot twice more before you finally, fully, relented, slurring his name into the sheets as he rutted into you from behind, begging for your Alpha to fill you up.

Had you again after that—so soft and sweet for him now. Pulled you down on his lap, let you take what you wanted from him, sluggish and lazy, until he gripped your hips tight, fucking up into you as he thickened with his release. Plugged you up nicely as you drooled on his shoulder, lulled to sleep from three brutal rounds of fucking.

But the battle was worth the victory in the end. To have you tucked into his chest, purring with contentment and too blissed out from heat exhaustion to worry about anything else, was enough. More than, really.

Especially now, with you curled on him, snoring lightly, breath tickling his chest hair, he feels more sated than he ever had, breathing in the heaviness of your smell. Your thick miasma. New, now. Different.

His scent, his mere essence within you, changes your smell already. Chemicals admixing. Body moulding, morphing, to adapt to him. His presence. You smell like the sea, salt water. Algae blooms. He leans down, breathes you in. Tastes his own headiness in the back of his throat—charred timber, smoke; leather. It clings to you. A second skin.

No matter where you go, everyone will know you belong to him.

This thought, this truism, makes him purr. A deep rumble from the pit of his gut. Satisfaction rolls off of him in towering waves, hewing the air where it congeals into plumes of conquest. Hard earned, too—

Three years. It only took three years to get to this point. To chisel under your skin, to break you down in his paws. Fine powder.

He lifts his hand from your back, and scours it down his salt-slickened face. He feels heat blooming under his skin. A telltale flush of his approaching rut. Perfectly timed, too. And that reminds him—

He pushes away from you slightly, spent cock slipping free from your warm, drenched cunt. His cum drips out of you, a deluge that leaks steadily onto your thigh, the ruined fur below. It puddles there and stains the air with his unmistakable musk. The conquering of an omega in heat; claimed. Owned.

He doesn't go far. Can't. There's a possessive, needy thrill under his veins. A snarling growl in the back of his head, snapping rabid jowls at him. Demanding he stay close to his mate. His omega. Don't leave the nest, it warns, or another could crawl in, fill the empty space—

Price cuts that thought off with an aborted snarl. There are no others. He made sure of it. Bloodied his knuckles against every alpha within a one-hundred-square-mile radius of his territory. Growled in their faces, hand against their throat, and told them to stay away from, you, this pretty little omega.

Message received, of course. But you were a prickly little thing. Bitter. As much as he wanted to roll you on your belly, make you present your cunt to him, he knew he had to tread carefully. Baby steps until you were close enough to his jaws to snap up, all his. Always. Ever since you stepped foot into his domain, your tart scent coalescing perfectly with the pine, oakmoss, tang of him. You've been his before you even knew who he was—

Wily omega with your shaking fists and bared teeth. Skittish little thing. Needed to play his hand slowly, to box you into a corner before you were even aware of the walls closing in around you. Snapped up tight his maw. Bear Trap quick. Had to be smart about it, bide his time. Push and push until all you thought about was him.

(checkmate)

John reaches for the loose floorboard, prying it open, and pulls his cell phone out—one he knows he’ll have to bury in the yard before you wake. There are very few contacts on his list, and he idly scrolls through the messages (steaming Jesus, the smell o’er—ye sure ye don’ share, cap?; better take her, Price, before I do) before he finds Gaz’s.

The last message sent was hours ago from Kyle. on her way. but fuck, didn't realise how fast fake suppressants worked, chief. gonna have to find her quick. might not make it up the mountain smellin as good as she does—

Good boy, he types with one hand, the other petting possessively down your spine. Curled there, a weighty pressure. You found him in the end, right on the cusp of your burgeoning heat. Pawing desperately for the suppressants Kyle made sure wouldn't be there.

(His parting gift brought on by a conversation ages ago—

“why haven't you mated, cap? not gettin’ any younger.”

“haven't found the right one. ain't gonna settle.”

“more like, your shitty attitude scares all the pretty omegas away, huh?”

“that, too,” he bit down into his cigar. suddenly angry, viciously so. “‘cept one.”

Kyle followed his gaze, and—

“so, take her. she wants you. reeks like she does. you can smell it, too, can't you?” his eyes flashed. playful. “maybe that'll be my retirement gift to you.”

“not funny, Garrick.”

“m’not tryin’ t’be, cap.”)

Three dots appear almost instantly. It takes a moment. Then: fuckin’ prick. Another message from Kyle pops up seconds after. told you, didn't i? i wasn't bein funny. congrats, cap ;)

As if sensing the sudden whiplash of his mood—deep, proprietorial—you stir in his arms, mewling in confusion. John drops the phone, hiding it from view, and pulls you tighter in his arms. In his embrace. Mouth pressed tight to your hairline, he rumbles, “shush, shush. I got you.”

His words make you quieten slightly. Quelled under the susurrus lull of his bellowing purr. But there's still a deep ravine between your brows. Unease lashes the air, acidic. Bubbling up from deep within you.

None of this must make any sense to you. Mercurial boss to mate, but he knows you'll come around to the idea of him soon enough. After all,

he has you all to himself until winter.

all to himself.

His hand falls, cups your lower belly possessively. Covetous. You grimace in your sleep, shifting away from the heavy, oppressive brunt of his smell. Obsessive. Potent like a wildfire. Dangerous.

But there's nowhere for you to run. Nowhere to go except deeper into his arms, his hold. Gyves around your throat; a bloody ring of his teeth.

Price hums. “Best gift I've ever gotten.”

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #alpha price #alpha john price x omega reader #idk how this is like 8k its all just smut lmao #captian john price #john price #price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price #cod

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sttoru · 7 months ago

Text

‘and if i only could, i’d make a deal with god, and i’d get him to swap our places. .’ — kate bush

𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x wife!reader. fluff to angst (no comfort). spoilers chapter 261. reader’s pregnant. major character death. mentions of blood, death. nicknames ‘pretty, sweets’. not proofread bcs i couldn't through the tears. i cried nine times writing this so.. good luck! wc: 3.6k

“he’s kicking again,” satoru chuckles excitedly. he’s been clinging onto you ever since you got back from your doctor’s appointment. your baby boy is growing up healthy and there don’t seem to be any complications.

you smile and rest back against the velvety pillows. you’re enjoying the affection you’re receiving, the kisses and nuzzles against your swollen tummy makes every bit of suffering worth it. your husband is going to be an amazing dad, that you can tell.

“hey, little guy—don’t give ya mommy a tough time,” satoru huffs and gently taps the side of your stomach that was last kicked by the unborn baby, “that’s my wife, y’know?” you giggle at the scene in front of you and close your eyes, relaxing your body.

a comfortable silence hangs in the room. satoru’s warm hands cupping and rubbing your round stomach add to the tranquil atmosphere. the weight of your husband’s head presses onto the front of your plump belly—ear pressed against the stretched skin as if expecting to hear your baby boy talk.

after a while, you open your eyes. you hear a sniff and then the usual silence follows. you look down at satoru settled between your legs, hugging your waist and resting his cheek on your tummy. he’s awfully quiet and you’re unable to see his eyes because of his bangs.

“toru, everything okay?” you carefully ask. your voice comforts him for the next couple seconds, before his muscles tense up once more. satoru tries his best to seem unaffected by the many thoughts scurrying through his head.

“mhm,” your husband nods and forces a small smile. though, he can’t keep the facade up any longer. the longer you’re pregnant, the more worried he gets about a certain something; something that’s been bothering him ever since.

it’s the reason why he doubted even having kids in the first place.

“i—well. i don’t know, sweets,” satoru sighs. a deep sigh that shatters the mask he’s had on for so long. his brows furrow and his eyes dart from one place to the other. his fingers stop their movements on your stomach. they curl around the material of your shirt instead; showing a clear sense of vulnerability.

satoru seems. . . afraid, yet also angry. perhaps at himself, perhaps at the world. you don’t utter a single word. if there’s anything you want, it’s for your husband to speak about his inner turmoil freely. you’re the only person who he can have such emotional conversations with—the only person he can be himself with.

the real gojo satoru.

not the strongest.

that’s why you’re not surprised when satoru opens his mouth to confess the inevitable to you. “i’m scared,” his voice cracks. it’s a faint change in tone, but it is noticeable to you. you’ve been his lover for long enough to notice every minuscule thing.

the white-haired man lets out another sigh. you brush his soft bangs out of his eyes and instantly notice the sudden weariness in them. normally, those beautiful blue eyes shine brightly, yet that light has now dimmed.

you pat his head and satoru immediately leans into your touch. you allow him to process his own emotions and words before speaking up.

“scared?” you ask quietly and carefully, giving your husband space to explain.

satoru nods. there are a thousand thoughts running through his mind. all those thoughts he’s tried to suppress since the day you’ve announced your pregnancy. maybe even before that—at the day of your wedding.

he’s sat down with you a few months into the marriage, to have the talk about kids. he seemed to be delighted to have children with you, however there have always been some dark and hidden thoughts lingering in the back of his mind.

the sorcerer has chosen to ignore them for the longest time. he’s been trying to convince himself that he has nothing to worry about. you’re going to be fantastic parents and your children are going to be extremely loved.

the day you surprised him with your pregnancy, was like a dream. satoru cried - which he rarely does - so it was an emotional night for both of you. neither of you could wait to meet your child—happy with whatever gender.

despite all of the optimism and enthusiasm, satoru’s struggles with his inner thoughts have not yet ended. he doesn’t want to bother you with it. you seem so content and he does not want to ruin that at all.

but even the strongest without limits has to reach a breaking point.

“yeah,” satoru speaks up, his voice hoarse. he kisses your belly button, hoping his child doesn’t pick up on his distress somehow. your husband closes his eyes as he places his forehead against your tummy, praying that the heavens above hear his pleas, “i don’t want our kid to inherit my cursed techniques. at all.”

your hand doesn’t stop stroking satoru’s hair. you don’t flinch at his words, nor do you immediately discard his worries. in all honestly, you’ve shared the same feelings before getting pregnant.

you know how satoru’s treated by the jujutsu society. it’s dehumanising how he’s seen as a weapon of some sorts. a weapon that could solve all problems—one that cannot rest until its duty is done.

you despise it. you’ve told satoru about your hatred for the toxic society, even going as far as asking him to move to a different country without telling anyone. you’re sick and tired. you can’t recall the amount of times that you’ve cried alone, in the bathroom, after you’ve seen the state your lover comes back home in.

the white-haired man always seems so tired. his eyes and head hurt because of them overusing his cursed techniques. there are even days where satoru doesn’t put his blindfold or sunglasses off at home.

and when you try to talk to him about it, satoru simply assures you that ‘he’ll be fine’. you believe him in the moment, but you don’t know for how long you’ll be able to keep that trust.

you’re letting him break, slowly yet surely, right in front of you. he’s working himself to his demise. it’s nothing out of the ordinary to not want the same for your child.

though, you’re sure that it’ll be fine even if your baby boy inherits satoru’s techniques. that’s because you two are going to protect him with all you have. no one is going to treat your child like a weapon—not while the both of you are still alive.

“i don’t want our child to take over the burden i carry,” satoru continues. his brows are furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. he’s already thinking about all the possibilities that can follow with the birth of your son.

he can hide his child from the world, but wouldn’t that be too restrictive? he can keep an eye on him every second of the day, but wouldn’t that be overprotective?

you notice satoru’s internal state of panic increasing, so you quickly cup his face. you lean down and press a firm kiss against his lips, to which he instantly responds. his breath hitches and he sits up on the mattress, deepening the kiss as his hands hold you by the back of your head.

he needs this—you—more than anything else in the world. if it wasn’t for you, he’d have lost his sanity long ago.

you pull back after a good minute and pant. you chuckle as you notice the slight pout on satoru’s lips. he never seems satisfied with just one kiss, which is adorable. you coo and pepper his face with small pecks, “aww.”

it’s comforting to the sorcerer. he closes his eyes and his mouth forms a small smile. you’re doing an amazing job at calming him down. satoru’s muscles relax and he finds himself nestled between your legs soon enough.

you realise that he’s still somewhat afraid for the future of his child by the way he’s playing with your shirt. his head lays on your chest and his long fingers trace shapes on your exposed skin.

“i know, honey, i know,” you murmur against the top of his head. you massage satoru’s scalp gently, nearly making him purr because of how incredible that feels. you stare at the ceiling and continue your little talk.

“i’ve thought about all of it too,” your fingers find his undercut, playing with the little hairs. all you can hope for is that your partner stresses less about the outcome of your pregnancy.

if you can do one thing for him, it’d be that. reassuring him that you’ll both do your best for your child will surely put him at ease. your husband has enough to worry about anyway.

you want to share that burden. you don’t want him to carry the world on his shoulders alone—he’s got you for that now.

“but i think that our son will be fine. why? because he’s got you,” you smile and kiss satoru’s forehead. it’s his favorite type of kiss and it works wonders when you comfort him. his ocean eyes regain their sparkle, both because of your unconditional love and trust in his parenting skills, “our boy will grow up fine and protected because he’s got you as his amazing dad, yeah?”

satoru takes some time to let your words sink in. your trust in him is a beautiful thing. of course, he’ll protect his kid no matter what. both you and his kid will be safe for as long as he’s alive. you’re going to be a happy family—one that he’s always dreamed of having.

he isn’t going to raise his child to be the strongest. he isn’t going to raise his child as an heir to the throne. he isn’t going to raise his child as his legacy. he isn’t going to raise his child as a tool.

his son will have a normal childhood and he will guarantee that. satoru will give his kid what he didn’t have as a child himself;

unconditional love and support for whatever his son wishes to become.

satoru raises his head and leans in to kiss you, hugging you to himself. he adores you so much, you’re all he needs to feel like he can do anything and everything all at once.

carrying the world on his shoulders so you can live peacefully in it is all satoru does it for.

“heh, damn right. i’ll be the best husband and dad ever.”

. . .

but in the end, your dreams are just dreams, right?

an escape from reality, that’s all dreams really are. all those times you’ve sat together to pick the furniture you want to place in the nursery, to paint the room a baby blue, to buy clothes and toys, diapers and carriers, to giggle about the places you would love to visit as a family, to think about possible baby names, to joke about whether your son will say ‘dada’ or ‘mama’ first — all of it were naive, hopeful dreams.

perhaps you were too caught up in them to realise that reality will hit when least expected.

satoru and you have lived in your own bubble—your own little fantasy world where tragic fates does not exist. no one in this planet would suffer if life worked that way.

no one on this planet would have to pick up the phone and have their world shatter, their dream bubble pop. to have all hope lost in the span of a second.

grief is a scary thing. it’s devastating and it will consume you whole. you don’t realise that until you experience it firsthand. losing someone close to you will break you in half. it’s a punch to the gut.

especially if it’s your husband. someone you considered your partner—who’s promised you to be together forever. maybe those promises were also a part of your fantasy.

maybe they were also but a beautiful lie.

your footsteps feel heavy. you don’t have any energy left in you. every drop has been drained from you the moment you heard the news over the phone. your eyes and head hurt, both feeling like they’re going to burst. you don’t want to accept any of this.

the faces of the people around you are a blur. they’re all holding their head low, their hands gathered in front of them to show respect. no one speaks—all the room is filled with are your sobs. the loud cries you let out in hopes that they wake you up from this absolute nightmare.

you drag your feet to the examination table in the middle of the room. tears continue to blur your vision, though surely, you can confirm the outline of the body laying underneath the blanket.

how could you not recognise the person you thought you’d spend eternity with?

it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. . .

“satoru.” your voice is barely audible. your hands are shaking and your face is stained with endless streams of tears. you stand at the side of the table and you instantly curl your fingers around the edge.

seeing that face from up close hits different. usually, it’d have your stomach fill with a feeling of delight, yet now all you feel when looking at it is unimaginable dread.

the blood on the corners of his mouth. the blanket that’s hiding whatever is left of him from below the waist. the dull eyes that once stared at you with hope and love. those dried lips that normally shone with a layer of gloss.

god, it’s awful. you don’t want this to be true. you’re still waiting to be woken up by your husband. so he can hold you close and hug you, whisper sweet nothings and reassure you that he’d never leave you alone in a savage world like this.

your shaky fingers reach out to his right hand. his skin feels cold and his hand doesn’t hold yours back. your breath hitches and you let out a long, devastating cry. it sounds like a scream for help as your body crumbles—falling to your knees whilst you tightly grip your lover’s limp hand.

“no, god no, please!” you cover your mouth with your free hand, nearly hyperventilating from pure pain. you feel like your heart is going to give up on you. it’s breaking into a million pieces, as does your future. you can’t live without him—you can't do it.

satoru is the sole reason you’ve held out for so long. you were each other’s support system. you can’t do any of this on your own. you can’t breathe properly—your body doesn’t let you.

not until you feel a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. you can guess that it’s shoko, but you’re too distraught to even pay attention to her. you lift yourself up by holding onto the edge of the table, your legs shaking. you sniffle and sob uncontrollably.

you reach out to touch satoru’s lifeless face, as gentle as you always do. you flinch when you feel just how cold his body is—the usual warmth that would comfort you gone, nowhere to be found. you don’t get a reaction from him when you touch his cheeks.

it only serves to remind you of the tragic events that unveiled. you’re still in denial, but the moment feels real. your brain is slowly yet surely processing the information. though, you don’t want it to. you want to live in a world where you grow old with your husband.

where your child is going to grow up with a father figure at home.

“satoru, come back to me.. to us, please,” you beg and beg, hoping he smiles and sits up, telling you that it’s just one of his silly pranks again. when none of that happens, you feel yourself become more hopeless. you hunch over him and cup his face. the same face that would light up whenever you’d touch it.

you hiccup and wail, unable to breathe. you rub his cheekbones with your thumbs, settling your forehead against his. your tears fall underneath his eyes and slide down his temples, making it seem like he’s crying with you.

you wait for satoru to respond, but he doesn’t. there’s an eerie silence on his part and you’re panicking. you need him to comfort you, but he isn’t there to do that anymore. you’re left alone, all alone.

“i can’t do this without you—we can’t do this without you,” you stammer between sobs. you can’t go through life, knowing satoru isn’t going to be there for you. he isn’t going to come home anymore. he isn’t going to cuddle you to sleep anymore. he isn’t going to experience what it’s like to have a family of his own. he isn't going to be able to hold his child and to play with him.

you blame life for being unfair—always taking away the people who don’t deserve it. satoru hasn’t done anything to deserve this. he just.. existed. his fate of becoming the strongest, decided at his birth, is what has lead to his death.

you continue to sob to yourself. you refuse to acknowledge anything or anyone else in the room. you’re solely focused on your husband. or rather, what’s left of him.

remembering how excited satoru was to spend the rest of his life with you and your future children pains you all the more. he’s been stripped from a normal life. you’ve tried your hardest to give him that said normal life, yet your hopeful dreams have gotten you nowhere.

you wipe your tears away for the first time in a while. your grief is making you delusional—disoriented to the point you try to make yourself feel better. you force a smile and hold tightly onto satoru’s limp hand, trying to speak through your quiet sniffles.

“o-our boy is gonna be born soon,” you chuckle bitterly and place satoru’s hand on your belly. it’s gotten bigger over the months and you’re already eight months along. he was so close to meeting your child—so close. yet his tragic destiny did not allow him to.

you hope he’s been happy with you for as long as he lived. you hope you’ve somewhat relieved him from his misery for as long as he lived. that burden he carried, the world he carried on his shoulders. . . it doesn’t seem to want to detach from him. even after death.

you press a deep kiss against his forehead. satoru’s favorite spot to be kissed at, you remember. you wish he feels it in the afterlife; wherever he may he. as long as he’s in a better place now, one that treats him well. this current world has been too cruel on him. it doesn’t deserve to home someone like your husband.

“i wish you were here to see your son. to see our baby grow up, you'd be so proud, honey,” you kiss satoru’s forehead again. it’s all you can do stop yourself from losing it completely. you know satoru would tell you to be strong, for his sake. for your unborn son.

“i’m going to tell him all about you, ‘kay? i'm going to tell him about how awesome his dad was,” your voice breaks for the nth time. you’re still in the first stage of grief, though you try to seem strong in case satoru is watching from somewhere.

that’s what he did when he was the one going through a tough time. he’d act brave and fine, putting on a mask to make you worry less, telling you all kinds of reassuring words while he was suffering internally.

now it’s your turn to safely send his soul off to the afterlife. to let satoru pass away in peace, with him knowing that you’re going to live on for him and for your child. it’s the least you can do at the moment.

you put on a brave face, staring into his lifeless eyes, smiling through the unbearable pain. you’re sure he’s still listening to you from somewhere. satoru’s always told you that your voice is soothing, so you do your best to calm his soul and reassure him that it’s fine for him to rest.

“i’ll do my best to raise him, yeah? so you.. you just rest.”

rest was a foreign word to the sorcerer. this world didn’t give him an ounce of peace. he’d either be overworked by his family or the jujutsu society, and if it isn’t work, his inherited techniques were slowly killing his brain and body.

you’re praying that satoru has none of that in the afterlife. you’re praying that he can live a normal life, eternally. so that when you join him one day, you both won’t have to suffer nor share the burden. you can live out your dreams without anyone interrupting.

not even fate.

“you deserve to rest. you really do,” you sigh.

soon enough, you feel yourself crumble again. you burst out in tears once you realise that he’s actually never coming back to you in this life. you bury your face in the crook of his neck and sob loudly, not holding back your emotions anymore. you just can’t—you can’t act brave when your second half has been taken away from you so suddenly.

you hope that you succeeded into sending him off without any worries. you can’t help but continue rambling to yourself, “i’m going to miss you s’much. oh, my baby.”

you lift your head back and stare into satoru’s eyes once more. did he think about you when he was on his deathbed? did he see his life flash before his eyes, including his many memories with you? did he see what could have been?

it’s unfair.

you give him one last bright smile and gently close his eyelids for him, hoping his lost soul saw your face before you did so. with one last kiss on his lips, you whisper your final words;

“please wait for me on the other side, my love.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst

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smileysuh · 8 months ago

Text

crossroads

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu & Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. If one neighbour is a Doberman, then the other is a Golden Retriever. They’re like night and day, and yet, you’re drawn to both, as if some gravitational or celestial power is pulling you to them… it also helps that they both have motorcycles. How had it been so easy to ghost Wonwoo in the past, only to find yourself at a crossroads with his roommate seven months later?

tw/cw. Threesome, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, big dick Mingyu, creampie, oral (f/m receiving), blow job, deep throating, hand job, Eiffel tower/spit roasting, breast worship, nipple pinching, nipple licking, panty kink, eating pussy through panties, fingering, squirting, pussy stretching, praise, dirty talk, ‘sir’, dom!Wonwoo, switch!mingyu, blindfold/sensory deprivation, voyeurism, listening to your neighbour have sex, masturbation, reader reads erotica, mutual masturbation, slight dacryphilia, blindfold/sensory deprivation, inklings of humiliation, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel, baby. (Mingyu’s) gyu. (Wonwoo’s) sir.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 19.8k

🍭 aus. Biker!meanie, booktok!reader, neighbours!au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. This was not supposed to be this long. I don’t know how this happened.

Prologue

“Who keeps messaging you?” your cousin asks, trying to act nonchalant as he sips his margarita, but you can feel his eyes on you as you stare at your phone.

“The Harley dude,” you sigh, quickly reading the text message.

“The guy who missed your first date because he was napping?” Jeonghan nearly chokes on his drink, setting it down in favor of flashing you a judgemental look.

“Yeah, the same guy who also tried to rebook our first date as a group ride night with all his friends,” you roll your own eyes at the stupidity of men. While the idea is fun, it’s not the way to get to know someone new.

Jeonghan lets out a low whistle. “Sheesh.”

“You can say that again.” You set your phone down, grabbing at your bellini, and relaxing against the patio chair, trying to soak up the sunshine in an effort to calm yourself.

“Well? What did he say?” your cousin presses.

“He said his entire week is free if I want to meet up.”

“And what did you say?”

“Nothing.” You tip your head back, letting out a contented breath. “He had two chances, I’m not about to give him a third.”

“Summer is almost over,” Jeonghan points out. “I know you wanted to find some hot dude with a motorcycle and ride off into the sunset. You’re getting low on time.”

“Honestly, Hannie? This Jeon guy is not worth it.”

One

After a long winter, it’s finally getting warm enough that you can open your apartment windows and enjoy the fresh air. Trees are beginning to blossom, birds are singing songs that act as white noise while you sit at your dining table completing the last few emails for your remote job.

As you’re finishing up your very last correspondence of the day, new noises join in with the robbins and wrens. These noises, however, are nowhere near as pleasant.

There’s a banging outside your door, a few thumps, and a distinctly male voice cursing.

Living in a fairly quiet apartment complex, these sorts of sounds aren’t something you’re used to, and they can only mean one thing; your landlord finally found new tenants for the two-bedroom next door that’s been vacant for over a month.

With a sigh, you close your laptop, wrapping your sweater tightly around your body as you venture toward your door. You can’t help the curiosity bubbling inside of you, and after another deep breath, you decide to take a peak into the hallway beyond.

Two men are struggling to get a couch through the doorway into unit 317. You stay silent, watching the way one man’s biceps bulge with each maneuver. His hair is on the longer side, dark strands licking and curling at his throat, which is covered in a light sheen of sweat from the effort of moving.

“Come on Cheol, we’re almost there,” he encourages the man holding up the other end of the sofa.

“Fuck you, Mingyu,” the other says, stepping back into the apartment and out of your view.

You wait patiently, and after a minute or so, the pretty man moves into the hallway again, giving you a full view of his face. He lets out a deep breath, shaking out his muscular arms- that’s when his eyes meet yours, and you swear your heart skips a beat in your chest.

His mouth curves into a wide grin. “Hi! Sorry if we bugged you with the noise- that couch was not making moving easy.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him quickly. “You must be my new neighbours.” Your gaze shifts past him to the second man, who has appeared in the hallway too.

“Nah- I mean, I am, but this is Cheol, he’s just a friend,” the pretty man tries to explain, stopping in front of you. He wipes his hand along his jean leg, then holds it out to you, “I’m Mingyu.”

You allow him to shake your hand. Despite his attempt to wipe some of the sweat away, his palm is still a little clammy, although, you’re shocked to find that the physical contact isn’t unpleasant.

You tell him your name, watching Cheol trudge past you to the elevator. “So if that guy isn’t your roommate, who is?”

“My buddy Wonwoo. He’s actually visiting family in Korea right now, won’t be moving in till the end of the month.”

“I see,” you nod. “Well, welcome to the building.”

“Thanks,” Mingyu beams again. “If all our neighbours are as friendly as you, I think we’ll like it here.”

“If I’m being honest, we’re a quiet building, lots of us are kind of reclusive,” you try to explain, choosing your words carefully.

You hear Cheol let out a chuckle as he waits for the elevator, and you wonder what he’s found so funny.

“Quiet,” Mingyu repeats, letting out a breath. “Noted. We’ll do our best not to be a disruption.”

You want to believe him, but something in his grin tells you not to.

Two

It’s been about a month and a half since Mingyu moved in. You’ve not seen him, or his roommate, although, you have heard them through your shared wall a few times. One of them - Wonwoo you’re guessing- is pretty into video games, because yelled lines like ‘I’m trying to revive you, dipshit!’ and ‘stop fucking dying so much then!’ have irritated you and interrupted your soft girl movie nights.

From what you can tell, Mingyu’s elusive friend who was visiting Korea is now sharing his bedroom wall with you, and at two AM on a Tuesday night, your suspicion is confirmed. You wake to noises that aren’t gamer screams, they’re screams of pleasure.

Muffled cries of “harder, daddy!” and “please!” have your skin tingling as you shift under your duvet, feeling suddenly very hot.

As you lay there and listen to the sound of a headboard beginning to hit the wall, you try to decide if you’re annoyed, or horny. The tingling between your thighs, and the heat along your neck makes you think it might be a combination of both.

Part of you wants to bang your fist against the wall, but you’re much too shy to risk any sort of confrontation. Instead, you simply lay there, fighting the need to slip your hand down your sleeping shorts.

You figure the sex will be over soon, but five minutes stretches into fifteen. The woman’s cries have stopped, but the low thumping of a bedframe against the wall has only gotten more intense.

You’re no stranger to kinky shit- you’re an avid reader of smut afterall, and being a voracious reader, your mind comes up with reasons why the girl may have stopped begging. Had Wonwoo put something in her mouth to shut her up? Panties perhapse? Or had he flipped her into doggy position, pressing a hand to the back of her head to force her face against the pillows?

If Mingyu had been hot, his best friend must be sexy too- guys like that travel in packs, and Cheol hadn’t been bad on the eyes either. You imagine a faceless man, muscled and gorgeous, railing some girl not four feet away from you, with only a wall keeping you from seeing the perverse act. You feel dirty, like a voyeur, and you’re equal parts relieved and saddened when the noise finally stops.

You sit in silence, listening to your own heavy breaths for a few minutes, wondering if the sounds will pick up again.

They don’t, and soon, you’re drifting off into a lusty sleep.

Three

You’ve been awoken to the sounds of sex three times now. The idea of approaching the property manager to file a noise complaint has been on your mind, but you can’t find it within yourself to make waves.

Due to all of this, when you finally bump into Mingyu in the building’s shared laundry room, you see it as the perfect chance to quietly resolve the issue without causing trouble.

He’s dressed in gym shorts and a black muscle shirt that shows off his expansive shoulders as he moves wet clothes into the dryer. Standing in the doorway of the laundry room, you’re once again struck by how beautiful your new neighbour is.

With a deep breath to find courage, you appraoch him, going for the washing machine next to his. “Hi,” you greet him.

“Oh, hey neighbour,” Mingyu grins, pausing what he’s doing to look you up and down.

You’re hyper aware of the sleeping shorts that hardly cover your legs, and the sweater you’d tossed on does little to hide the fact that you’re currently braless. Even so, if you don’t bring up the noises now, you’re not sure when you’ll get another chance.

“Hey, do you uh…” your words come out quiet, and you try to raise your voice a little, wanting to sound confident, “do you think you could ask your roommate and his girlfriend to keep it down?”

“Huh?” Mingyu’s brows furrow in confusion.

“The person whose room is next to mine,” you try to explain. “They’ve been kind of loud with uh… a girl, recently.”

“Oh!” You can practically see the lighbulb go off in Mingyu’s eyes. “Sorry, you said girlfriend, and that part stumped me. The last time was about a week ago, yeah?”

“Something like that.”

“Don’t worry, I already talked to him a few days ago. Told him to get his fuck buddies to keep it down- they’re annoying, huh? I thought I was the only one losing sleep over it.”

“Definitely not the only one,” you let out a small laugh. “If I’m being honest, I was considering talking to the property manager about it, but I don’t like to cause issues, so I’m glad we’re on the same page about this.”

“We’re for sure on the same page,” Mingyu assures you. “Thanks for not talking to the manager about this- hey, listen, what if I give you my number, and if it happens again, you just have to text me and I’ll go bang on his door or something?”

“I’d appreciate that,” you grin, watching him pull out his phone so he can grab your digits. “Honestly, I work from home, and for the most part, you guys have been pretty great neighbours.”

“Ooh, one of those post covid remote jobs,” Mingyu nods in understanding. “I mean, I’m out during the days usually, I work at a tattoo shop across town, and Wonwoo sleeps most of the time so he can be awake for his evening bar job.”

“That actually kind of makes sense,” you admit. “I never see you guys around.”

“Well…” Mingyu leans against the dryer, flashing you a boyish grin. “We could change that. You could come over sometime.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. From his body language, and the suggestion, you’re pretty sure this gorgeous man is flirting with you. “I, uh…” you swallow thickly, “maybe.”

“Well, I have your number, and now…” Mingyu types something into his phone and a moment later yours dings, “you have mine. So if you want to take me up on that offer, just shoot me a text.”

“Okay.” The words comes out kind of shaky, and you internally smack yourself for becoming so shy from this pretty man hitting on you.

With a wink, Mingyu leaves the laundry room, and your thoughts are scattered for the rest of the day.

Four

It’s been too long since you’ve seen all your friends from highschool. Soonyoung, Seokmin and Seungkwan are three of the rowdiest guys you know. They love doing bar crawls with you whenever they’re all in town and can find the time.

Seungkwan lives in another city these days, studying law at a prestigious university. Soonyoung travels the country with dance troup. And Seokmin spends hours every day at the theater practicing for new performances and productions.

They’ve taken you to a bar you’ve never been to, and you’re enjoying the booth style seating. Millennial and old classics are playing through the speakers, and every time a good song comes on, the three men start singing, whether it be Cher, or Britney, or even Kesha.

You’re a few drinks deep, but they’re even deeper, and it’s gotten to the part of the evening where they want to hear everything about your love life.

“Okay, book girlie,” Soonyoung slurs, throwing his arm around your shoulders, “spill the beans. Who you fucking?”

You laugh, pushing at his cheek to get his face away from yours. He wreaks of tequila and the Gucci cologne he practically drowns himself in every night before going out. It’s not the most pleasant combination.

“I’m single,” you insist.

“We all know you always have your eye on someone,” Seungkwan insists, leaning over the table to point his finger at you. “Tell us.”

“Okay, maybe there is someone I’m interested in,” you admit.

All three men let out delighted squeals and laughs. “We knew it!” Seokmin exclaims.

“The issue is, he’s my neighbour, and dating in your apartment building can get messy,” you explain.

“We love messy,” Soonyoung insists.

“You love messy,” you correct.

“So who’s this hot neighbour?” Seungkwan asks, wanting to dive into the gossip.

“His name is Mingyu.” You let out a sigh. “He’s tall, and handsome, and his arms-”

“Does he have a motorcycle?” Soonyoung interrupts you. “We know you love men with bikes.”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head. “But it doesn’t matter. My motorcycle phase was last summer.”

“Baby,” Seungwan frowns dramatically, “Honey, sweetheart- You’re a booktok girl. We all know kinky little sluts like you need their bikertok boy to make their fantasies come true.”

You hate it when Seungkwan reads you to filth like this, and you hate it even more that he’s so right. You’ll always have a soft spot for men on motorcycles- or is it a wet spot?

“Anyways, Mingyu is cute, he gave me his number and invited me over-”

“Bitch, go fuck him!” Soonyoung bellows a little too loudly, and you immediately slap a hand over his mouth, looking around to see if anyone heard him.

That’s when your eyes land on a man behind the bar. His curly dark hair is cute, but when you study his regally handsome face, you realize you recougnize him.

“Fuck,” you whisper, immediately lifting your drink to hide behind it.

“What?” Seungkwan turns in his seat. “The bartender?”

“Babes, he’s been checking you out all night,” Soonyoung grins, cuddling closer to you.

It’s only Seokmin who studies you and asks, “Do you know him?”

“The bartender?” Seungkwan scoffs, as if it’s a stupid idea, although, when he turns to look at you again, his jaw drops. “Fuck, you do know him! Girl, spill!”

“Do you guys remember that Harley dude from the summer? Jeon? The one I ghosted after he missed our first date then suggested a ride night with all his friends to make up for it?” you ask, lowering your voice and continuing to hide behind the glass in your hand.

“Shit, that’s the Harley dude?” Seokmin’s eyes widen in realization.

“Fuck me, this is awkward,” you groan, taking a large sip from your drink. “Can we get out of here?”

“Babes, we just ordered another round,” Seungkwan points out, lifting his full Gin and Tonic to show you.

“Don’t be like this,” Soonyoung pouts. “Harley man is a bartender, so what? He can’t ruin our night. Maybe he doesn’t even recougnize you!”

“If he’s been staring, I bet you he does,” Seungkwan points out, taking a swig of his drink.

“Thanks, Seungkwan,” you say sarcastically, “that really makes me feel so much better.”

Your friend only grins, raising his glass.

You do your best to be calm, but you can’t control the racing of your heart. Your gaze keeps shifting to Jeon, and then, the night takes a turn for the worse: Mingyu walks in, followed closely by Cheol, and some other guy you haven’t met.

The group walks right up to the bartop, and you note the way Mingyu grins at Jeon, holding out a hand so the two can do a slight hug over the counter before the three men take their seats.

“Shit,” you whisper, downing your drink.

“What?” Soonyoung also whispers, following your gaze.

“That’s my neighbour,” you explain. “This is not good.”

“Looks like they know each other,” Seungkwan points out.

“Again,” you sigh, “not helping. Fuck me, I need to go to the bathroom.”

You stand abruptly from the table, darting off to the space at the back of the bar. In the ladies room, you splash your hands with cold water, trying to chase away the fire that licks across your skin. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, and deep breaths don’t do anything to help.

You feel like you’re caged in- like there’s no way out of this bar without running into Jeon and Mingyu.

You’re not sure how long you stay in the washroom, trying to relax- you give your friends time to finish their drinks, and you’re hoping that when you exit, you can simply escape with them, using the three men as a human shield.

When you exit the bathroom, however, you run directly into Mingyu, who’s just coming out of the men’s room.

“Sorry-” he apologizes, only to look you up and down. “No way! Neighbour? Damn, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Oh, hi,” you say awkwardly, forcing a smile.

“How’s your night going?” You usually like Mingyu’s happy energy, but right now, it feels nearly overwhelming.

“Good, you?”

“My night’s going great- hey, listen, I want you to meet someone!” Mingyu grabs your hand, and before you can stop him, your large neighbour is dragging you back out into the bar.

As he tugs you closer and closer to Jeon, pieces begin to click in your head, and when you reach the bartop, you’re not even surprised when Mingyu says, “This is Wonwoo, my roommate!” He had mentioned Wonwoo worked at a bar, after all.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, forcing get another smile.

Jeon - or Wonwoo - looks you up and down. God, he’s even more handsome than his Tinder pictures had made him out to be. But fuck, you’ve heard him fucking other girls through your bedroom wall over three times- and you’d ghosted him-

“Hi,” Wonwoo echoes, his voice all deep and sexy in the loud noise of the bar.

You feel like the wind has been knocked out of you.

“Wonwoo, this is our neighbour, you know, the one I mentioned.” There’s an insinuation in Mingyu’s tone, and the fact that he’d talked about you to Wonwoo has your stomach erupting into erratic butterflies that threaten to catch in your throat.

“Right.” Wonwoo’s tone is so unimpressed, and you’d bet your life the man is holding a grudge over the whole ghosting thing.

“Wait, Y/N, you should join us for a drink!” Mingyu suggests.

“Actually, I’m here with friends, I should really get back to them,” you say awkwardly, tugging your hand away from Mingyu’s grip. “Thanks for the offer though.”

“Right, yeah, okay.” God, Mingyu looks like a kicked puppy, but then he flashes you a smile and your heart melts. “Listen, text me, just to let me know when you get home safe.”

“You got it,” you agree quickly, giving him a tight lipped grin before you nearly stumble over yourself to get back to your table. “Guys, we have to leave, now.”

“What happened?” Seokmin asks, clearly concerned while Seungkwan sighs and pulls out a wad of cash.

“They do know each other,” Soonyoung blurts out.

“Turns out Harley Jeon isn’t just Harley Jeon, he’s also Wonwoo, Mingyu’s roommate,” you quickly explain, grabbing your jacket to wrap around your body.

Soonyoung’s eyes light up in realization. “And they were roommates,” he whispers.

“And I ghosted one of them!” you whisper yell back. “The same one who I’ve heard fucking multiple girls through my wall over three times!”

Seungkwan lets out a chuckle. “Girl. You’re fucked.”

Five

Jeonghan lets out a deep sigh. “You know, when Seokmin texted me to come check on you for some Grade-A Tea, I never expected any of this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “I know I’m in deep shit.”

“Nah, you’re good,” your cousin assures you, standing and stretching. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I wish I had the confidence in myself that you have in me,” you breathe, also rising to your feet. Jeonghan’s been over for a while now, and after giving him all the gossip, you feel like you could use some time to yourself.

“You’ll get there,” your cousin assures you, heading toward your front door so he can slip into his shoes. “Keep me updated.”

“I will. Thanks for coming to see me.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan opens your front door, stepping into the hallway before pulling you into a hug. “If I didn’t have a board meeting tomorrow, you know I’d stay longer.”

“I know. But I’m good,” you assure him. “I think I’ll sleep early tonight. This week has been a lot.”

“Sounds like it,” he nods, releasing you in favor of heading over to the elevator. Before he can press the button, however, the elevator dings, the doors opening. Wonwoo steps out. He stops infront of Jeonghan, giving him a once over before his eyes shift to you, still standing by the doorway to your unit.

Then, to your annoyance, Wonwoo grins, shaking his head and brushing past your cousin.

Jeonghan gets into the elevator, the doors closing, and as Wonwoo walks past you, you can’t help but make waves. “What?”

“I never said anything.” Wonwoo stops in front of you, hands nonchalantly tucked in the leather pockets of his jacket.

“You gave me a look,” you insist.

He shrugs. “It’s just gonna break Gyu’s heart to know you already have a man in your life, that’s all.”

You roll your eyes. “That was my cousin.”

“Sure it was.”

“It was!” You can’t help the way your voice is raising.

“And the guys at the bar?”

“Friends!”

“Right.”

He turns to leave, and you swallow thickly, mind reeling for a comeback.

“I just don’t see how you can be making assumptions about me,” you state.

Wonwoo stops, gaze finding you again. “What do you mean?”

“Just that.. I mean… I’ve heard you fucking girls, mister Jeon, if that’s even your real name!”

He actually grins at your words, eye brows raising in surprise. “Girl, actually, singular. It was one girl. A recent hookup. She’s not into gags like the others, they’re generally pretty quiet for you, aren’t they?”

You’re so shocked by what he’s just said that you physically take a step back, jaw dropping.

“Oh, and by the way,” Wonwoo heads to his door, reaching into his jacket for his keys. “Mister Jeon is what people call my father, I’m sure you know that I prefer to be called Daddy.”

He unlocks his apartment, flashing you a wink before he heads inside. You stand in your doorway for a solid ten seconds, processing his words before you go back to your room to scream into a pillow.

Six

After the events of the week, and work on top of that, a nap the moment you're done sending the last emails of the day is exactly what you need.

Birds are singing outside, your window ajar. The warming air carries the scent of blossoming buds, and you relax against your pillow, enjoying the feeling of your duvet against your skin.

You’re just drifting off when a loud engine jolts you back into consciousness. You flop onto your back, staring at the ceiling.

You’ve been a motorcycle fan for long enough to know the sound of one when you hear it, and as the revving continues, you’d bet your right hand that some jackass is doing burnouts in the alley outside.

It’s probably some enthusiastic douchebag who has finally brought their motorcycle out of the garage after a long winter-

Actually, wait. You know an asshole with a motorcycle. An asshole with a Harley to be exact.

Fucking Jeon Wonwoo.

God, you hate that man.

Grabbing your pillow, you burry your head under it, wishing for the sounds to stop.

Surprisingly, soon enough, you hear the motorcycle take off, with two more engines revving up to follow.

Your apartment complex used to be so nice and peaceful.

It used to be.

Seven

After your nap had been interrupted, you’d trudged around for a while. It’s the evening now, and you have no energy to cook, so you’ve ordered takeout. When you head down to the lobby to grab your food, you bump into Mingyu.

“Look at us, always running into each other,” he grins, watching you step by him to bend down and pick up your takeout.

“Seems like a common theme,” you agree, letting out a sigh.

“You good, neighbour? You look tired.”

“You want the truth?” you ask, straightening to look at him.

“Always.” He holds the door open for you to come back into the apartment complex.

As you head to the elevator, you choose your words carefully, after all, you’re pretty sure Wonwoo was culprit behind the motorcycle incident two hours ago. “I just… I was trying to have a nap after work, been tired lately, and some guy was revving his motorcycle outside my window. He woke me up and I was too irritated to go back to sleep.”

As you enter the elevator, you notice Mingyu’s skin turning pink, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. “Actually… uh… I, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I have a Harley, but uh, I got a new sportsbike, and that was me doing burnouts to test it out a little.”

Your heart lurches into your throat, your jaw dropping. When it comes to your neighbours in 317, you always find yourself conflicted. You’re annoyed at him, but at the same time, the fact that he also has a motorcycle makes this ten out of ten man even ten times hotter-

“Oh,” you look down at your takeout.

“I’m really sorry,” he apologizes quickly. “It won’t happen again- you won’t tell our building manager it was me right? Like, we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” you let out a breath. “I mean, technically quiet hours don’t start till ten pm, and this was like, five, so I guess it’s my own fault for trying to nap so early.”

“Not your fault,” he assures you. “You definitely look like you need some rest- if it helps, I promise no burnouts near the apartment.” Mingyu even crosses his heart, and your body relaxes, shoulders slumping as you crack a smile.

“Okay, that would be nice.”

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor, and the two of you exit together, closing the short distance to your door.

“Your takeout smells good,” Mingyu notes. “Maybe you could put yourself in a food coma and pass out for a bit, I promise there will be no noise issues tonight.”

“That sounds nice, actually,” you admit.

“Also uh… you know, you still haven’t taken me up on that offer about coming over sometime.”

When you look over at Mingyu, you find him leaning against the hallway wall, staring down at you with soft puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy-” you search for an excuse. “Also, I mean, I don’t know if Wonwoo would be good with me coming over.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Mingyu shrugs, which is when you realize that Wonwoo must not have told Mingyu anything about your failed dates or the ghosting.

“He just didn’t seem to like me very much when you introduced us,” you blurt out, grasping for straws.

“He always has a resting bitch face, don’t take it personally,” Mingyu assures you. “Seriously, come over sometime, we don’t bite.”

Mingyu might not, but you get the sneaking suspicion that Wonwoo does.

Eight

The reverse harem adult romance your reading had drawn you in when you’d first opened it, but as time goes by, your mind keeps wandering when you reach the sex scenes.

Threesomes have you imagining Wonwoo and Mingyu, and try as you might, you can’t shake the image from your head.

It doesn’t help that they fit the character personalities, one puppylike lover, and one more stoic and dominant. You can’t help but wonder what the two would be like in bed, and with a groan of frustration, you slot your bookmark between the pages and set the novel down on the bed next to you.

As you sit there, deep in thought, you think about what Mingyu had said about owning a Harley.

That’s when you realize, last summer, when Wonwoo had suggested a Harley ride night as a date- if you had gone with him, would you have met Mingyu?

You decide that Mingyu definitely would have been there.

It’s interesting how the domino effect works- or maybe this is invisible string theory; the idea that, you can pass someone, or have missed chances, but one way or another, that person will always end up in your life.

What would have happened if you’d met Mingyu that way?

What would have happened if you’d met Wonwoo that way?

At the moment, there’s no question as to which of the two neighbours you prefer. Mingyu is happy and welcoming, he always has a smile, and you could see yourself having a great relationship with him- if things were to take a turn that way.

But on the flip side, Wonwoo is more similar to the type you’ve dated in the past.

If one neighbour is a Doberman, then the other is a Golden Retriever. They’re like night and day, and yet, you’re drawn to both, as if some gravitational or celestial power is pulling you to them… it also helps that they both have motorcycles.

How had it been so easy to ghost Wonwoo in the past, only to find yourself at a crossroads with his roommate seven months later?

Nine

You’re outside your apartment waiting for an Uber when two familiar men on motorcycles pull up in front of you.

Wonwoo’s on his Harley. It’s all black, and although you’re not very well verses with motorcycle types, you’re pretty sure it’s a Fat Boy or a Street Bob- but as you stare at the wheels, you begin to lean toward Street Bob.

Mingyu, in contrast, is on a red Kawasaki Ninja, which is evident by the name on the side. He lifts up his visor when he comes to a stop two feet away. “Hey, neighbour,” he greets you. “Waiting for someone?”

“An Uber is picking me up.”

“An Uber?” Mingyu looks around. “Where are you headed?”

“A family thing. We’re going to be drinking so I figured I shouldn’t drive,” you explain.

“Good idea,” he nods, then, without skipping a beat, he asks, “Wanna ride?”

You gaze shifts from Mingyu to Wonwoo, and you can practically see the Harley rider roll his eyes. With an aggressive rev of his engine, Wonwoo bolts off, leaving you and Mingyu in his dust.

“Uh, don’t you two have plans?” you ask.

“We did, but we were just going for a ride. I can take you where you need to be and meet him later,” Mingyu shrugs. “Seriously, don’t mind him.”

You’ve been on a motorcycle once before, and you know enough to understand that the short romper and light spring jacket you’re wearing is not enough to protect you on the back of a bike. And that’s the least of your worries. “I don’t have a helmet-”

Mingyu begins to undo his, and you watch in shock as he pulls it off, shaking out his hair and offering you the red head gear. “Take mine.”

“Isn’t it illegal to ride without one?”

“We’ll be fast- but not dangerous, I’ll be good, I promise. Where are we going?”

With a deep breath, you pull up your Aunt’s house on your phone’s map app, showing it to Mingyu.

“I can get you there in ten minutes, easy,” he says.

“This is not a good idea,” you warn, although you accept the helmet.

“Cancel your Uber,” Mingyu urges softly. “Let me do this for you.”

With one last sigh, you cancel your ride, then, you allow Mingyu to help you onto the back of his bike.

“Have you ever been on one of these before?” he asks.

“Once,” you admit, adjusting the helmet on your head before you tentatively wrap your arms around Mingyu’s large body.

“Just hold on tight.”

“Take care of me,” you retort.

Mingyu grins. “Always.”

A moment later, he’s revving his engine, and the two of you take off on his bike, your clothes whipping around and contorting flat to the curves of your form.

You hold Mingyu tighter, and he takes one hand off his handlebars to rest it over yours for a second, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

When he pulls onto the main road, Mingyu is true to his word about not being dangerous. He doesn’t lane split or push the bike too hard. When you come up to traffic, he waits patiently, resting his elbow on your knee as if this is something the two of you have done together a hundred times before.

You become so lost in how attracted you are to Mingyu- how you have to hug him tight when he accelerates, that the trip is over before you know it. He pulls up to your aunts house, turning to offer you a hand so you can get off the Ninja.

Your legs feel wobbly as you step on solid ground, and Mingyu helps you with the chin clasp of the helmet, removing it easily.

“Thanks for being my backpack,” he smiles.

“Thanks for giving me a ride,” you grin back.

“If you want, you can text me when you’re done, and I’ll get you home safe. I’ll even bring a spare helmet this time, and maybe a proper riding jacket for you.”

“That would be really nice actually.”

“You got it, angel,” Mingyu flashes you a wink before he pulls the helmet onto his head. You move to the sidewalk, standing there to watch him as he gives you one last nod and takes off, the engine loud enough to be heard even as he makes it two blocks away in record time.

A low whistle startles you, and you turn to see Jeonghan standing in the driveway. “Damn, that dude was hot.”

“That’s my neighbour,” you sigh.

“Which one?”

“The good one!”

“You should take him up on that offer of hanging out,” Jeonghan suggests.

“And you should keep your nose out of my love life.”

Your cousin simply laughs. “Never going to happen.”

Ten

The jacket Mingyu brings for you when he picks you up from your family gathering is long enough to be a dress. You struggle with the thick material as you try to get on his bike, and you can see Mingyu grinning from the opening in his full face helmet.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, allowing you to settle behind him.

You pat his thigh when you’re good to go, and the two of you slot down your visors before he takes off.

It’s the late evening now, and being on his bike feels different in the dark. The city lights whip past you, and the lanes are pretty empty for Mingyu to go faster. Now that you’re both in full protective gear, there’s not as much of a need to be safe, although, as you hold tightly to your neighbour, you realize this might be as safe as you’ve ever felt.

You trust Mingyu, in a way that you can’t quite explain.

As it was before, it’s easy to get lost in the act of being on Mingyu’s motorcycle, and before you know it, he’s pulling into your apartment complex’s underground garage.

You hate that the ride has ended so quickly, and you hate it even more that you have to let go of Mingyu’s large, warm body. You stand next to the motorcycle while he gets off of it, and you wait patiently for him to take off his helmet before he helps you with your own.

“Do you have plans for the rest of the night?” Mingyu asks while the two of you walk toward the elevator.

“Not really,” you admit. In fact, you’re feeling a little tired. You hadn’t drank as much at the family dinner as you thought you would, and sleep sounds pretty good right about now.

“Do you wanna come see my place?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“If you’re worried about Wonwoo, he went to work before I came to pick you up,” Mingyu tells you. “Come on, just one drink or something. Don’t you wanna compare your one bedroom to my two bedroom?”

You are curious to see what sort of decorations these two men have- they’re mid to late twenties at best, and you love to laugh.

“Fine, one drink,” you let out a breath as you enter the elevator, turning to look up at Mingyu. “Why do you care so much if I come over? Like, honestly?”

Mingyu meets your gaze, fiddling with the helmet in his hand. “I guess maybe… because I like you.” He shrugs. “You’re a good neighbour, and an even better backpack. You look cute in my jacket- why wouldn’t I want to get to know you better?”

“That’s a good answer,” you admit with a laugh.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he grins.

When the two of you exit the elevator, you follow Mingyu past your apartment to his own door. You watch the way he pulls out his keys, fumbling a little to get into his place. He lets you enter first, and you step into the foreign home with a curious gaze.

You slip out of your shoes, undoing his jacket around your shoulders as you wander further into the apartment. The two men are cleaner than you would have expected. The furniture is minimalist, and mostly cream coloured- which isn’t a shade you would have thought would match the motorcycle riding, black wearing men. You wonder how the couch in the den is so well kept- there’s not a hint of stains on the nicely textured cover, no beer or food-

There’s no dirty dishes in the sink, no miscellaneous bowl of car keys and other shit that guys always tend to carry in their pockets.

In fact, this place almost looks like a ‘girl sanctuary,’ the type of pintrest board apartment inspo you’d find online.

“What do you think?” Mingyu asks, coming up behind you and helping you take off his jacket.

“It’s really nice,” you say honestly. “Not what I expected.”

“I’m a bit of a neat freak,” he admits with a chuckle.

So he’s big, muscled, kind, rides a motorcycle, and he knows how to do housewife cleaning duties? How did you ever manage to score a jackpot like him for a neighbour?

“Anyways, take a seat on the couch, I’ll grab some beer. You drink beer, right?”

“Sure.” You move to settle into the sofa, and Mingyu brings over two cans of lager from the fridge, cracking one open before he hands it to you.

“Cheers,” he grins, gently clinking his can against your own.

You take a sip, focusing on the way Mingyu sits on the other end of the couch, angling his body toward you. “So… you mentioned you work at a tattoo parlour? How did you get into that?”

“I’ve always been into art,” he explains. “My buddy Cheol was more into tattoos with me, opened up his own shop and encouraged me to apprentice with him after I graduated from uni with my arts degree. I wish there was more to it, but I really just got kind of lucky.”

The list of his good qualities just keeps getting better and better- a university educated man? Yes please.

“I guess, maybe what I’m wondering is why you don’t have any tattoos yourself?” you ask, looking at the beautiful unblemished skin shown off by his muscle shirt.

Mingyu laughs, also gazing down at his arms. “Would you judge me if I told you I’m scared of needles.”

“That’s cute,” you grin, sipping your beer.

“You’re cute,” he retorts, mirroring your motion and trying to hide his smile behind the can in his hand. “Anyways, you said you’d been on a motorcycle before?”

“Yeah, just once.”

“Tell me about it?”

“There’s nothing much to say,” you admit. “Went on a date with a guy, he mentioned he had a sports bike, offered to take me for a ride, so I said yes.”

“So…” Mingyu taps his fingers along his beer can, “you like guys with bikes?”

You let out a laugh. “Maybe.”

“I’m feeling better and better about my odds,” Mingyu smiles.

“Your odds are very good,” you tell him. Now it’s your turn to drink in an effort to hide the massive grin on your face.

“Yeah? I was a little worried, I mean, I gave you my number and you didn’t text- took a little bit of convincing to get you on my bike, to get you into the apartment- I hope I didn’t overstep anything there.”

“No, you’re fine,” you assure him. “I can just… be a bit shy sometimes.”

“It’s cute though.”

Your skin heats at the compliment, heart thundering in your rib cage. “What about you? I’m into bikes, are you into cute girls?”

“A hundred percent,” he nods. “They’re my favourite kind.”

“Do you have any experience dating neighbours?”

“No, but I’d like that to change.”

“Do you think being neighbours could complicate things?” you enquire.

“I mean… if I didn’t see you as girlfriend material, then yeah, I’d never turn a neighbour into a hookup, but then again, I’m not huge into hookups to begin with,” Mingyu explains.

“You know… I’m trying to find even one red flag about you, and I’m seriously coming up empty.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

You smile, looking down at your nearly finished beer. “I guess not.”

“How about you? Any red flags?” he asks.

Aside from the downright pornographic books you read on the daily? “Probably not.”

“Probably not, huh?” Mingyu chuckles. “Maybe I should be the one keeping a look out for red, but then again, with rose tinted glasses, red wouldn’t stand out that much to me anyways.”

You’d not expected your night to turn out like this. You’d figured it would be a nice family dinner, some drinking, then an Uber home and sleep. Instead, you’ve been on Mingyu’s bike twice, worn his jacket, his helmet- and now you’re here in his house, with your hot neighbour flirting with you in the most wholesome way-

In your tired state, you’re feeling a little overwhelmed. Your shyness is taking over- the fear of the unknown, of making a misstep, clouding your enjoyment of the peaceful space Mingyu has created in his apartment.

“Listen, don’t take this the wrong way,” you sigh, finishing your beer, “But I’m really tired-”

“Yeah, no worries, I said just one beer and it looks like you’re done,” Mingyu is quick to down the rest of his, reaching out to take your can so he can move to the kitchen. He places the empties under his sink, and you follow, keeping your distance.

“Thank you for this though. I know we didn’t talk for that long, but I feel like I know you better,” you admit.

“I’ve still got a lot of questions for you,” he grins. “But I’ll save those for another time. I’m not about to get in the way of a girl and her beauty sleep.”

“I appreciate that.” The two of you head to his door, and you slip your shoes on.

“Can I give you a goodbye hug or something?” Mingyu suggests. “It would feel weird letting you leave without one.”

You nod, allowing Mingyu to pull you close to his chest. He’s so tall, your cheek pressed tight to his well defined pecs- and fuck, he smells good. This isn’t the overpowering Gucci type cologne that Soonyoung wears, it’s a more muted, spicy yet clean scent. It’s the type of scent that encourages you to take a deep breath, your body relaxing as your neighbour hugs you.

“Thanks for coming over,” Mingyu whispers.

When you go to pull away, you find yourself tilting your head to look up at him. Your eyes meet, and it feels as if you’re hanging in a moment frozen in time. Your breath catches when his gaze dips down to your mouth, and you know what’s coming next.

His hand cups your cheek, stroking your skin, and he gives you ample opportunity to pull away, but you don’t. You simply stare into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes, waiting for him to make the move that you know is going to capture your heart completely.

When his lips finally touch yours, that sense of relief washes over you again. You shift in his embrace, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Mingyu lets out a soft sigh of contentment, parting his mouth ever so slightly so he can lick at your lower lip.

You mirror the motion, your tongues gently clashing.

You’ve met some guys who try to force their way into your mouth, who try to dominate you- but Mingyu isn’t like that. He’s soft and fluid, reacting to your movements moreso than anything else. His hands slip down to your hips, holding you close while you kiss each other.

No first kiss has ever felt this natural, and like with riding the bike, it becomes so easy to get lost in your neighbour.

When you finally break away, you’re both breathing heavily. You can taste the beer on your lips, and it makes you release a small laugh, giddy joy surging through your entire body.

“That was…” Mingyu swallows thickly, “wow.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Wow.”

Eleven

It’s been two weeks since you started getting to know Mingyu better. You’ve gone on motorcycle dates, stopped at food trucks while enjoying the sunshine of spring, and when Wonwoo’s not around, Mingyu has invited you over for movie nights.

While there’s been lots of kissing, and a growing desire for more, the two of you haven’t gone much farther than second base. You kind of like taking things slow with Mingyu, he’s very good at not applying any pressure, and you adore that about him.

You’re hanging out in your apartment when Mingyu calls you, asking if you have any garlic he can borrow for his meal plan. Part of you thinks it’s a little late for dinner, but you agree anyways.

Sometimes you think he comes up with this sort of thing just to see you, stealing kisses at your door- but this time, when he comes over to grab ingredients, he doesn’t simply wait in the hallway.

“Can I come in?” he asks, peering at your apartment beyond.

“Come in?” you repeat.

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve seen my place, and I haven’t really gotten to see yours yet.” He sounds nonchalant, but you can tell that your personal space - the way you conduct yourself in your own home - is something that makes him curious.

“Okay.” You step away from the door. “Come on in.”

Mingyu bends down to kiss you as he steps over the threshold, and you grin against his lips, enjoying the way his hands softly grab your waist.

“I’m guessing you didn’t really need garlic, did you?” you tease.

“Nope, I ate dinner after work.” Mingyu takes his shoes off while you close the door behind him, and he looks around your apartment. “It’s nice in here.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you want to give me a tour?” he asks.

You let out a giggle. “Okay.”

You’ve never given a formal tour of your apartment before, but you do your best, showing him through the kitchen and the small living room area. You’ve got certain knick knacks that are special to you, and you explain them to Mingyu while he listens with a smile.

Finally, you make it to your bedroom. Before you can even open your mouth to say anything, Mingyu’s arms are wrapping around you, his chest pressed to your back, lips on your throat.

He already knows your sweet spots, and you let out a soft sigh, tilting your head to make things easier for him.

“Gyu…”

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers in your ear, nibbling gently on the lobe.

“No.”

You hadn’t expected this tonight, but you’re at a point now where you don’t want to wait. Mingyu isn’t the type to use you and leave you. He’s made his intentions clear, and the sexual chemistry between the two of you is undeniable.

You find yourself turning in Mingyu’s embrace, cupping his cheek so you can draw his lips to yours. He lets out an immediate groan of satisfaction, and it goes straight to your core, which flutters with delight. You kiss him deeply, pouring all your wants and desires into the meeting of your mouths.

Then your hands find the bottom of his shirt, and before you know it, you’re stripping the fabric from Mingyu’s body and tracing your hands over the muscles you love so much.

His body jolts when you tease your nails across his lower abdomen, and it prompts Mingyu to reach down, cupping your ass and easily lifting you up. Your legs wrap around his hips, tongues clashing in a lusty battle as he carries you to your bed.

Your hands trace along his strong shoulders as he lays you onto the mattress, looking down at you with blown pupils. He’s breathing heavily already, and you can see the bulge of his cock through his jeans.

You’ve grinded against him before, sitting on his lap on his couch while he rubs your tits through your comfortable evening sweaters, so you know how big Mingyu is, but knowing he’s about to be inside of you makes your heart race in an entirely different way.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Mingyu asks again, straightening to look down at you.

“Uh huh,” you sit up, meeting his gaze. Then you reach out, undoing his buckle while keeping steady eye contact.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, chest heaving with each breath. “You don’t have to-”

“Don’t have to what?” you tease, moving onto the zipper, which you tug down roughly.

“Don’t have to-” he swallows thickly. “I want to make you feel good.”

“What if you do that after?” you suggest. “I want to make you feel good first.”

“Fuck, Angel, okay.”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow at him, hooking your fingers in his jeans and briefs.

“Yeah,” he nods quickly. “Do whatever you want- whatever you want.”

You tug his pants down, allowing them to bag at his knees. You’re already much too focused on the cock in front of you to care about getting him fully undressed.

Your eyes take in Mingyu’s rock hard length. You’re not great with measurements, but you swear he must be seven or eight inches. He’s got a pretty mushroom tip, all flushed and pink. There’s a prominent vein running along the underside of him, and it makes your mouth water.

You haven’t sucked cock in a while, but you’d read a very good erotica about it last night, and you know exactly what to do.

Grabbing the base of him, you angle Mingyu’s cock slightly upward, running your tongue along the vein.

“Shit,” Mingyu groans, hands flying to your head. He doesn’t apply any pressure, simply strokes you as you take the tip past your lips, suckling on it and twirling your tongue. “You’re- fuck, you’re good at this.”

You let out a happy hum, and the vibration makes him twitch, pushing him further into your mouth.

Your eyes are closed now, and you allow yourself to enjoy the act of pleasuring Mingyu. After being so patient with you over the past few weeks, he deserves it. The sounds he’s letting out are more than enough encouragement for you, and soon, your drool begins to drip down to your fingers, making it easier for you to pump his neglected shaft.

There’s no way in Hell you’ll ever be able to fit all of him in your mouth, but unless he’s used to dating women schooled in oral aerobics or some shit, you doubt any of his past lovers have ever achieved that feat either.

Instead, you focus most of your attention on the tip, knowing that the head of his cock is where he’s got a lot of his nerve endings.

Your tongue dips along his slit, tasting the salty precum. Mingyu moans loudly above you, fingers threading through your hair.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum too fast,” he warns you.

Part of you wants him to cum, so you go even harder- only for Mingyu to gently pull you off of him.

You blink up at the gorgeous man, pleased to find that he’s flushed. His chest, shoulders, neck and cheeks are all a pretty pink colour, and he’s panting heavily. “Seriously, Angel, I don’t want to cum yet.”

“What if I want you to cum?”

“I’m not making you swallow the first time we sleep together,” Mingyu states, and you can tell that it’s a hard boundary. “And I’m not cumming on you either- I think…” he licks his lips, “I think it’s my turn to make you feel good now.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

Then Mingyu leans down over you, grabbing your shirt and tugging it off. Your pants are discarded next, left on the floor next to his own while he adjusts you on your bed.

He’s left your bra and panties on, and when his lips find yours again, you kind of appreciate that he’s intent on more foreplay.

Your core is aching through the cotton fabric, and your nipples are pressing up toward the cups still confining them. It’s driving you crazy as he kisses you deeply, but then one of his hands reaches up to massage you through your bra, and you let out a sinful whine.

“Take it off,” you whimper, “please.”

Mingyu’s mouth moves from your lips to your throat, and he reaches under you, undoing the clasp. He gently pulls the bra from your form, and his kisses finally make it to your breasts.

His soft hair is teasing your skin with each kiss, but when his lips wrap around your sensitive nipple, you can’t even find it within yourself to care about the slight ticklish sensation. Mingyu’s got your full attention now, his teeth gently dragging across the hardened bud, making you cry out even louder.

You grab at his broad shoulders, holding onto him for dear life, wriggling under his large form.

His cock is pressing between your legs, rubbing against your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Fuck, Gyu-” you whimper. “I want you so bad.”

He groans in response, moving to your other breast to pay it as much attention as he had the first. Your neighbour takes his time, and you enjoy every second of it, although you’re absolutely desperate for more.

You want him to take the lead, as you lean more toward a submissive temperament in bed, despite the ballsy way you’d approach sucking his cock for the first time.

You wonder if he’s aching the way you are- if he’s throbbing with need for you the way your pussy is already trying to clench around nothing, anticipating the cock that’s going to split you open in a way that no man ever has before.

Unable to help yourself anymore, you reach down between your bodies, grabbing his length and pumping him gently. Mingyu groans against your breasts, giving you one last lick before he brings his mouth up to your own again.

“Angel, fuck-” he practically whimpers, thrusting toward your hand. “You’re not ready yet.”

“I’m ready,” you try to assure him.

“Trust me,” Mingyu’s hand slips into your panties, two fingers teasing your core, “As wet as you are, you’re not ready for me.”

“Gyu-” You want to argue, but when he pushes two digits into your core, you realize he’s right. Because even with two fingers, you feel like he’s stretching your tight walls.

You’re so wet that it makes it easy for Mingyu to begin finger fucking you, his mouth finding your throat so he can kiss your sweet spot desperately while you continue to stroke his cock.

“Wanna make you cum once,” he groans, “before- fuck, before I take you.”

Your core throbs at his words, and it’s clear from the smile you feel against your skin that Mingyu can feel the way your body is reacting to him.

“Do you like when I talk dirty to you, Angel?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, applying more pressure as you stroke him off.

“You’re already taking my fingers so well, who got you this wet?”

“You did, Gyu,” you whimper.

“Can you cum with just fingers? Or should I rub your sensitive little clit too?”

“My clit-”

His palm immediately finds the bud of nerves, and you let out a strangled gasp, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Fuck-” Your hand stops on his cock in favour of grabbing both of his shoulders.

“Like this?” he asks, applying a little more pressure that has you wiggling beneath him.

“Yeah, just like that,” you groan, threading your fingers through his hair, guiding him to continue kissing your throat while he finger fucks you open.

“Have you wanted this as much as I have?”

“Even more,” you confess.

“Not possible,” he retorts, but by the squelching of your pussy, you’re pretty sure you have him beat. You don’t have the energy or the mental focus to fight him on this, so you simply give in to the pleasure he’s providing you. “So good for me.”

“Gyu-” you whimper, legs shaking as your orgasm builds much too fast in the pit of your stomach.

“Always so good for me,” he continues. “The best backpack. The best neighbour. The best girl-”

You cry out as your orgasm slams into you with no warning. Something about this brand of praise has made you feral, and your core throbs around Mingyu’s fingers as he works you through your high.

“Just like that,” he coos. “So good for me.”

You draw his lips to yours, kissing him breathlessly. He kisses you back, tongue invading your mouth and gently stroking your own.

You’re practically shaking by the time your orgasm is over, and Mingyu pulls his hand out of your panties. “I’m gonna take these off now,” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your nose. “And grab a condom.”

“Actually…” You bite at your lip, meeting his gaze. “I’m on birth control.”

He pauses for a moment, and you can see the wheels practically turning in his head. “And… I mean, I know I’m clean-”

“I’m clean too,” you assure him. ‘It’s uh… it’s been a while for me, since I… well, you know.”

You can feel your skin heating at the admission of your near celibacy over the past few months. While you’ve imagined fucking all sorts of heros and villains in your books, the only thing that’s been inside you recently has been your six inch glittery pink dildo.

“And you uh… you want me to cum inside?” Mingyu clarifies.

“Please?”

Mingyu lets out a shaky breath, then he nods. “Okay, yeah, I can do that.”

He tugs your panties down your legs, and before you know it, the two of you are completely naked. Mingyu returns between your thighs, his arm muscles bulging as he holds himself over you, one hand grabbing the base of his cock so he can tease himself through your pussy lips.

“Can I convince you to let me eat you out first?”

“I need you,” you tell him, on the verge of crying if you don’t get your way.

“Another time, then.”

“Another time,” you agree with a laugh.

The tip of his cock teases by your clit and it makes your entire body jolt at the sensitivity.

“If it’s uh… if it’s too much,” Mingyu licks his lips, tearing his gaze from your core so he can look you in the eyes, “if it’s too much just let me know and I’ll stop.”

“Gyu, please, I’ll be okay-” you try to assure him, although, you’re not sure if you’re even certain with yourself on this one. There’s a possibility you might not even be able to walk tomorrow, but that’s a risk you’re more than willing to take.

He brings the tip of his cock down to your wet hole, gently pushing into you. The head alone is enough to have you moaning, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and throwing your head back against the pillows.

“Fuck-”

“Yeah,” his breath is hot against your chest, “I know, I’m sorry.”

It’s so endearing that the man is sorry his cock is so big.

“Don’t be sorry,” you let out a laugh, “I’ll just have to get used to you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Mingyu admits, pushing another inch past your wet walls. “Fuck, you have no idea how good you feel.”

“Just wait till you’re fully inside of me,” you whisper, closing your eyes and doing your best to relax your body so you can take him.

Mingyu lets out a groan, hips gently thrusting so he can coat his cock in your wet juices. Each movement has him burying deeper and deeper, earning sounds of pleasure from your lips.

Your nails claw at his shoulders, but it’s clear that Mingyu is too focused on your pussy to even care or notice.

“Almost there,” he tells you, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

Nothing in the world has ever felt like Mingyu, and as his hips finally come flush to your own and he lets out a sigh of relief, you know that there’s no coming back from this.

You both groan “Fuck” in unison, crashing your lips together a moment later as he begins to move. He starts off slow and gentle, his cock hitting spots so deep that you swear he’s rearranging your guts

You’ve spent years reading erotica, imagining what great sex would really look like, and now, you’re finally experiencing it for yourself.

You’ve never gone completely mind numb for someone before, but with Mingyu, you’re reduced to feral instinct. Sounds like the ones leaving your lips right now are not sounds that have ever come out of you before, and you swear you’ve never been this wet in your life.

Each thrust has Mingyu’s tip rubbing against a place that has you seeing stars, and as he picks up his pace, it’s the most you can do to keep kissing him even while wanting to scream with pleasure.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and when Mingyu releases a grunt, bringing his mouth to your throat so he can gently bite at your skin, you realize he kind of likes the pain.

The thought has your pussy tingling with even more delight, and Mingyu groans loudly.

“So good,” he moans. “So fucking good.”

“Don’t stop, please, fuck- no one has ever fucked me like this before-”

From the way Mingyu fucks you even harder, it’s clear he also has a praise kink. It’s funny how often praise and pain go hand in hand in pleasure.

You’re thankful for all the books you’ve read about this sort of thing, because they allow you to read Mingyu in a way that you’ve never imagined being able to read someone. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and you adore it.

Mingyu lifts his thigh, angling himself better on the bed so each thrust can go as deep as possible. Your headboard is hitting the wall now, and part of you almost wishes Wonwoo was home so you could annoy him with the sound as much as he’s annoyed you with it.

But at the same time, you’re glad Wonwoo is probably at work. As interesting as being a vouyer is when you’re the one listening in, due to your interesting past with your Harley loving neighbour, you’re not sure how you’d feel about him being privy to this intimate moment you’re sharing with Mingyu.

It’s clear Mingyu is completely present with you. From the sounds escaping him, you know that he’s not thinking about anyone else listening in. His ability to be completely enraptured by you makes it easier for you to get lost in him again, and when you draw his lips to yours, your mind goes pleasantly blank once more.

You’re not sure how long he fucks you like this, but soon, his hand finds your clit again, and you realize he wants you to cum with him.

“Can you give me one more?” he asks, looking down at you with those eyes you’ve come to adore.

“Yeah,” you nod, already feeling the tightening of your abdominal muscles. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm, and it’s way too easy for him to get you there again, especially with the way his cock drags against your inner walls and sets your entire body on fire.

“Fuck, you’re getting so tight, Angel, holy shit-” Mingyu groans deeply, pressing his forehead against your own. Each panting breath, each whimpered moan and grunt that escapes Mingyu has you closer and closer to the edge.

He should seriously consider getting a job reading erotica for money, like on the Quinn app or something, because fuck, no man has ever sounded this sexy before.

“Come on,” he encourages you, “I won’t be able to last, fuck- you’re gonna cum with me, right?”

“Yeah-”

“You’re close?”

“Yes-” You dig your nails into his shoulders, closing your eyes and focusing on the way he’s circling your clit.

“Please, please, please,” he practically begs, bringing his lips to your ear. “Be a good girl and cum for me again, come on, Angel, cum on my cock.”

You explode around him, crying out. Your legs tighten around his hips, and Mingyu’s entire body shudders as he cums with you. You can feel your core throbbing around him, milking him of his cum as he fills you to your absolute limit.

You’re both gasping, holding each other like life lines while orgasms ravage your bodies. It’s Heaven, but from the way your muscles are contracting, it’s also a little bit of Hell. Nothing has felt this good, but you know you’re going to be exhausted in the morning- fuck, you’re already exhausted.

Mingyu’s thrusts have faltered, but he tries to ride you through your highs. Soon, he’s half collapsing on top of you, your sweaty chests pressed together. Then he’s kissing you desperately, and it feels like you’re both pouring a thousand unsaid words into the meeting of your lips.

You make out for a short while, and then Mingyu pulls out of you, reaching for the kleenex box on your nightstand. “Here,” he offers, holding it between your thighs to stop any cum from dripping onto the bed.

“Thanks,” you let out a small laugh. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”

“Good idea.”

Your legs are wobbly when you stand up, and it reminds you of the first time you’d gotten off the back of his bike.

You don’t mind Mingyu making it hard for you to walk, in both ways.

Inside the bathroom, you do your best to use the toilet and clean up the cum. After double checking yourself in the mirror and deciding to brush your teeth for good measure, you head back to your bedroom… which is where you find Mingyu flipping through the most recent book you’ve been reading.

Your heart lurches into your throat, body freezing in the doorway.

“I didn’t know you read this sort of thing,” Mingyu muses, looking up at you.

“What?” you squeak.

“Erotica,” he responds casually. “This seems interesting though.”

You slowly approach the bed, joining Mingyu under the covers while he reaches to put your book back on your nightstand.

“Uh…” you don’t even know what to say. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

Mingyu laughs, pulling you close to his chest. “Why not? It’s not like I’m judging you.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. Why would I? I think I read somewhere that men like visual porn and women lean towards the written stuff, nothing to be ashamed of.”

He really is the perfect man.

“Plus, I keep seeing shit on tiktok about booktok girls needing their bikertok boy, I don’t mind filling that role for you.” Another nonchalant comment that makes your heart do somersaults. “Although… aren’t all of you booktok girls into masked men and threesomes and shit?”

His words make you hide your face against his chest, shyness overcoming you.

“Sorry, was that an overstep?” he laughs, rubbing your back with a large, warm hand.

“No, I’m just not used to talking about this, especially not with guys I just slept with.”

“The erotica you read is the fantasy you’re interested in, it would be a shame never to talk about it,” Mingyu muses. “That threesome between the demon knight and the guardian angel seemed pretty interesting.”

“God, you really weren’t supposed to read the book on my nightstand.” You can feel your skin getting hotter with embarrassment with each passing second.

“You’re adorable.” Mingyu cuddles you closer. “Look, I’m just going to put this out there, and if your answer is a no, then it’s a no… If you ever did want to try a threesome, Wonwoo would be into it.��

Now your heart is really racing, and your entire body stiffens in Mingyu’s embrace.

“Shit, my bad for even suggesting it,” Mingyu apologizes immediately.

“It’s not that…” you take a deep breath. If you’re going to continue things with Mingyu, he needs to know about your past - however unimportant it is - with Wonwoo. “Look… I uh… I matched with Wonwoo on a dating app last summer, nothing came out of it, but, I don’t know, I still feel awkward around him.”

Mingyu is silent for a few seconds, and you’re too scared to look up at his face, too scared of the expression you might find there.

“That would actually explain a lot,” Mingyu says finally.

“It would?”

“Yeah, when I first introduced you two, he was more of an asshole than usual. And that first time I offered you a ride on my bike, he just took off. I kind of chalked it up to him being socially awkward sometimes around cute girls, but, now things make a bit more sense.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“It’s all good,” Mingyu assures you, rubbing your back. “Honestly, I’m pretty tired. How do you feel about the two of us staying here tonight, cuddling till we fall asleep, and talking more about this in the morning?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “That actually sounds perfect.”

Twelve - Wonwoo

As if listening to you and Mingyu fuck the first time wasn’t enough, Wonwoo had been woken up at three am, and then again at seven to the sound of your moans carrying through his walls.

His room is dark thanks to his black out curtains, but in the blackness of his room, Wonwoo finally snaps. He’d done his best to wear noise cancellers the first time, to put his head under his pillow the second, but now, Wonwoo has lost all of his resolve.

Your small whimpers are simply too hard to resist, and as Wonwoo’s hand slips down to his aching cock, he can’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had worked out with you all those months ago. It could be him that you’re under right now, not his best friend, and that’s a conflicting thought.

Wonwoo lets out a quiet sigh as he begins to stroke his hard length. He closes his eyes, focusing on the muffled sounds of pleasure that make it through the walls.

When Mingyu had first mentioned that Wonwoo’s escapades had been keeping you up, he’d dismissed it, but now after being woken three times, he can see your annoyance.

He’ll have to try to go easier on you.

As Wonwoo works himself up to your moans, he wonders if you’ve ever been in this exact situation; touching yourself while he got off with someone else just a few feet through a wall.

The thought sends a shiver up Wonwoo’s spine and he shifts under his duvet, tossing the fabric off of himself, abdominal muscles clenching with delight.

From the sound of Mingyu’s thrusts and the headboard hitting the wall, Wonwoo’s pretty sure Mingyu is close already- fuck, he would be too if he had you to bury his morning wood into. And from the noises escaping you, Wonwoo knows you’re just as close.

He applies more pressure to his aching cock, speeding up his strokes- Wonwoo wants to cum with you and his roommate, although he’s not quite sure why.

Sure, once you both cum, his entertainment is over, but there’s a need to be paired with you both, something that goes beyond a voyeuristic act like watching porn, which he could easily switch to when you’re finished if he wanted to prolong the experience.

A muffled “Fuck, I’m close” has Wonwoo’s entire body tensing, and as your moans crescendo, the tightly wound knot inside of him snaps. He lets out a gasp, pumping his cock while ropes of his own cum paint his chest.

He wishes his hand was you, but the image of you instead of his hand is enough to make another wave of pleasure pass over him. He works himself through it to the point of overstimulation, finally stopping when the headboard sounds cease.

Wonwoo lays there for a moment, eyes closed, catching his breath.

When he finally turns his phone flashlight on and looks down at his chest, he realizes he’s cum more listening to you and Mingyu fuck than he’s probably ever cum inside of a girl.

It’s then that Wonwoo realizes how truly screwed he is.

Thirteen

Seungkwan had nearly spat out his drink when you’d revealed Mingyu’s offer to invite Wonwoo into your bed. Soonyoung’s jaw had dropped, and it’s stayed that way. Seokmin looks like he’s having a panic attack, his cheeks all flushed, his hands tugging at the neckline of his dress shirt.

“So what are you going to do?” Seungkwan asks finally, taking a sip of his Gin and Tonic with his wide eyes glued to you.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you admit, letting out a sigh.

“Bitch,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes, “don’t give us that. You read smutty threesome shit all the time, and here you are, being propositioned by your hot neighbour and his best friend, who both ride motorcycles, I might add- this is a fucking no brainer and we all know it.”

“You’ve been wanting a proper fuck session forever,” Soonyoung agrees.

“It’s actually like… one of your biggest things,” Seokmin points out, nodding.

“But don’t you think this would be messy?” you ask. “Like, if these were randoms I’d never see again, it would be one thing- but they live next to me, and I’m low key dating Mingyu. Wonwoo doesn’t seem like the polyamory type.”

“Babes,” Seungkwan reaches a hand across the table to squeeze your forearm, “This doesn’t have to be polyamory. Wonwoo can just be some dude that fucks you with his bestie sometimes. You can mostly focus on Mingyu, I mean, after all, we all know you and Wonwoo don’t even really like each other after the whole… ghosting thing.”

“Which is so valid,” Seokmin assures you, also reaching out to grab your hand. “Who suggests a group motorcycle trip as a first date, that was very stupid.”

“Plus, didn’t you mention hearing Wonwoo fuck some girl through your wall?” Soonyoung asks, playing with the straw in his bellini. “I bet you’re wondering why she was being so loud. I mean, obviously his dick game must be good.”

“I have been wondering,” you admit. “Mingyu is so soft with me, so good and gentle- Wonwoo seems like he might be the opposite.”

“And you’ll never really know until you give this a try.” Seungkwan pats your hand encouragingly. “I think you have your answer, babes. Go make those smutty dreams of yours come true, or you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”

Fourteen

Mingyu’s been coming over more and more often. Even though his place is just next door, he tends to have a preference for holding you until he passes out in your bed. You don’t mind, being in his arms helps you get the best rest you’ve had in ages, and you never feel closer to him than you do when you wake up next to him in the morning.

It’s a Sunday, and you’re laying in bed. Mingyu had gotten up, decided he’d wanted you for breakfast, fucked your brains out, and now, you’re stroking each others skin while you catch your breaths.

“Are you thinking about something?” Mingyu asks, and you realize he must have noted your silence.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. He’s done his best to foster an environment of safety- you know you can talk to him about anything, and now seems as good a time as any to broach a few subjects that have been weighing you down.

“What are we doing?” you ask.

“We’re cuddling?”

You let out a laugh. “No, I mean… what are we doing? Like… I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and from the way you spoke at the start of all of this, it sounded like you were looking for a relationship, but ever since you mentioned inviting Wonwoo into bed, I guess I’m just a little confused about… the trajectory of this. Sharing the girl you want to date exclusively with your bestie just doesn’t seem like a usual start to a new relationship.”

“Valid question,” he nods. “I can see where I caused some confusion… I guess, I mean- It’s not that I want to date you exclusively, I already am dating you exclusively, and I have been since the start.”

While this is news to you, you suppose it’s not the most surprising thing. Mingyu has been spending so much time with you lately, he’d have to be Superman or the world’s more snakey person to be able to juggle anyone else.

“When it comes to the whole Wonwoo thing- If I’m being honest, we’ve been friends forever. We’ve had like… three or four threesomes together? So I guess I feel comfortable inviting him because we have that foundation of trust there, and based on the stuff you read - correct me if I’m wrong - but I think a threesome is on your bucket list.”

Now this is some hot gossip. You’d never for a moment considered the idea that Wonwoo and Mingyu have shared girls together before- but now that the idea is out in the open, you feel stupid for it having never crossed your mind.

“So there really wouldn’t be any jealousy or any problems if Wonwoo joined us?” you clarify.

“There never have been before. Wonwoo’s not the relationship type. If I honestly thought there would be a problem, I wouldn’t have brought it up,” Mingyu tells you. “Sounds like you’re open to it.”

“I am,” you admit. “Also… I’m exclusively seeing you too, by the way.”

Mingyu laughs. “I know, Angel. Wonwoo is an exception, the only exception.”

“Agreed.”

“So…” Mingyu pulls you tighter to his chest. “Are we gonna bring this up with him?”

“Do you want to ask him?”

“I think we should do it together.”

The idea of bringing this up with Wonwoo makes your heart race. “You think he’ll react okay?”

“Angel, he matched with you on Tinder before, and tried to take you out three times, even if you did ghost him, you’re way too sexy for him to ever say no to.”

Fifteen

When you’d arrived at Mingyu’s place after dinner, he’d suggested a movie night. Wonwoo usually gets off work around one am, and with his Harley, Mingyu expected him to be back at one thirty at the latest.

Around midnight, you’d fallen asleep, with Mingyu following close behind, and when the sound of the front door unlocking finally pulls you from your slumber, a quick check at the clock tells you it’s already past two.

Mingyu groans behind you, pulling you closer, pressing his lips to the back of your neck.

Wonwoo walks into the den area in time to see the exchange, and he pauses by the open concept kitchen, staring at you in the dim darkness of the space.

“What are you doing out here on the couch?” he asks.

“We were waiting for you,” you say softly, pushing at Mingyu’s hand in an effort to wake him up fully.

Wonwoo stays quiet, and after a moment, Mingyu finally groans and sits up, turning to look at his best friend. Mingyu rubs at his eyes, yawning. “We have something to talk to you about,” he mumbles.

“Let's hear it,” Wonwoo sighs, setting his helmet and gloves onto the kitchen counter before he goes to remove his leather jacket.

“You know what… maybe it’s too late for this,” you suggest, turning to look at Mingyu.

“Don’t be shy,” he encourages you, pulling you closer and kissing your throat.

You note the way your body reacts, head tilting to the side to give him better access. It’s clear that you’re not as afraid of being watched as you’d thought you might be, and when your gaze shifts to Wonwoo, you find him staring at the place where you and Mingyu’s bodies connect.

A muscle in his jaw feathers, and you see the way his fist clenches at his side, but he stays silent.

“Do you want me to do it?” Mingyu asks.

“Yes, please.”

Mingyu gives a reassuring kiss to your cheek. “I know you two have a past-” he begins.

“She told you about that, did she?” Wonwoo interrupts.

“Uh huh, she’s a good girl like that,” Mingyu holds you tighter. “Anyways, I know you two have a past, and I know you’re attracted to each other-”

“Mingyu.” There’s a warning tone in Wonwoo’s voice now, and it makes your skin tingle.

“I’m too tired to do this right,” Mingyu sighs, “but listen, she wants to try a threesome, we’ve done threesomes, I figured I’d put it on the table, if you’re interested.”

Wonwoo stands in the kitchen for a moment, then he lets out a sigh, turning and placing both of his hands on the counter. He looks down at the ground, and you wonder what’s going through his head.

“Aren’t you two dating?” he asks finally.

You open your mouth to respond but decide to shut it, turning to Mingyu to allow him to answer. “Yeah, I mean, we’re exclusive.”

“How can you be exclusive if you’re inviting me into a fucking threesome?” Wonwoo snaps.

“Because you’re you,” Mingyu shrugs. “Why do you seem mad?”

Wonwoo lets out a deep sigh. “This isn’t the right way to start a relationship, Gyu.”

You find it comical that Wonwoo - of all people - is trying to school Mingyu on how to treat a girl.

“I’m pretty confident in us,” Mingyu grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You kind of love how sure he is, and it makes your trust in the budding relationship feel even stronger. “Look, if you don’t want to-”

“I want to.”

It feels like the air is knocked from your lungs. Yes, you’ve considered this for weeks, but part of you never really thought it would get this far, never thought Wonwoo would actually agree-

“I’ve been listening to you two fuck through a wall for weeks,” Wonwoo continues. “Of course I fucking want to.”

“So what’s the problem?” Mingyu asks, brows furrowing at why his friend still sounds so angry.

Wonwoo turns to look at you. “This is going to complicate things.”

“Only if you let it,” Mingyu argues. “Look, you’re both overthinkers, and I get that, but with me here, I’ll keep us all grounded, I promise.”

“It’s not that easy,” Wonwoo sighs.

“It can be, if you both let it be.” He sounds so sure, and you want to believe him on this-

“So is this just going to be a one time thing?” Wonwoo asks, and you note the way his gaze shifts from his roommate to you. Then you feel Mingyu’s eyes too.

“Uh… I hadn’t thought that far,” you admit.

“We could always just go with the flow,” Mingyu suggests.

“You know I’m not that kind of guy,” Wonwoo retorts.

“Honestly, I know it was just a simple case of ghosting, but you two don’t seem to actually like each other that much,” Mingyu points out, “unless I’m misreading something. So how about we give it a shot, and go from there?”

Wonwoo looks to you, and after a moment to consider it, you nod, he mirrors the motion soon after.

“Fine. I’m in.”

“Can you try to sound more enthusiastic?” Mingyu teases. “This is my Angel I’m letting you get a taste of.”

“Don’t test your luck,” Wonwoo warns. “Are we doing this right now?”

“I’m already half hard just thinking about it,” Mingyu grins. “Are you up for this, Angel?”

Things are happening a little fast for you, but you worry that if you don’t bite the bullet and try this now, you might chicken out if you give yourself enough time to overthink and talk yourself out of it.

“Let’s do it,” you respond.

Wonwoo stares at you from the kitchen, and you wait to see who will move first. Finally, Wonwoo nods. “Okay, my room.”

He walks away without another word. Mingyu is quick to get up, reaching down to tug you to your feet. You’re a little shocked at how abrupt Wonwoo is being, and how quick Mingyu is to act on Wonwoo’s locational choice.

You’ve never seen the inside of Wonwoo’s room, and you find it even more minimally furnished than the rest of the apartment. With nothing but a bed, a dresser and a gaming station set up, Wonwoo clearly has very few loves in his life. There are no books, no clothes strewn about- it almost looks like a room straight from the Ikea Catalogue with the theme ‘my ocd teenage gamer’s sanctuary.’

The only thing of any true interest, is a tiled wall mount light piece, and from the way Wonwoo is standing near it and looking down at his phone, you’re pretty sure it’s bluetooth. As Mingyu leads you to go sit with him on the bed, the tiles begin to change colour, and you’re not even surprised when Wonwoo goes for a red hue that makes this entire situation feel correctly sinful.

Mingyu sits behind you, prompting you to settle on his lap. His hands find your thighs, stroking you through your sweatpants. You can tell he’s waiting on something, and when Wonwoo finally looks up at the two of you, setting his phone down, you realize just how much power you’re about to hand over to the man you’d ghosted all those months ago.

Wonwoo approaches you and Mingyu, coming to stand right in front of you. He meets your gaze, but he’s quiet. You hold your tongue, knowing that now is not the time to start being a brat.

“So,” Wonwoo says finally. “My guess is Mingyu’s been going easy on you since you started fucking.”

Mingyu lets out a laugh behind you, and you find yourself wanting to defend him. “I wouldn’t say he’s been going easy on me-”

“I’m going to make an assessment, and you’re going to tell me if I’m wrong,” Wonwoo states. “You look like the kind of girl who wants to be dominated. The shy ones can sometimes be the kinkiest girls you’ll ever meet, and something tells me that if you’re interested in a threesome - interested enough to let me be the one to come in here and fuck you - you’ve got some specific itches that need to be scratched. Mingyu’s a vanilla boy. He doesn’t even like to call sleeping with a girl fucking. I’m betting he gives you everything you want, never makes you work for it, or beg for it, or any of that shit. The guy wakes up three times a night to rail you for fuck’s sake. So I’m guessing, even though he probably meets most of your needs, there’s something you’re missing that Mingyu thinks I can provide.”

Mingyu’s mouth finds your throat, pressing soft kisses that wordlessly tell you he’s not about to answer this assessment, it’s fully on you.

“I…” you swallow thickly. “I guess, I mean, that sounds correct.”

“You’re happy with Mingyu.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but you find the need to answer it anyways, so you nod quickly.

“Very happy.”

“But he doesn’t dominate you.”

You shake your head.

“And tonight, you want someone to tell you what to do.”

You nod.

“You want someone to make you scream the way I made that other girl scream, the girl that kept you up at night. You want what I was giving her.”

“God, yes,” you admit, letting out a shuddery breath. You can feel Mingyu smile against your throat, and he wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you close to his chest. You can feel his cock straining up against your ass, and it’s driving you wild already.

“What’s off the table?” Wonwoo asks. “Be thorough.”

“I think… no anal. Hard pass on anal, at least, right now,” you start. “And… please don’t be mean to me? Like… don’t degrade me?”

“If you’re our good girl, there will be no reason to degrade you, will there?” Wonwoo says smoothly, reaching out to cup your jaw. His thumb brushes by your lips and you open your mouth for him, accepting the digit that presses flat to your tongue. “See, you’re just a good girl looking for direction, there won’t be a problem tonight.”

He removes his hand, and part of you mourns the loss.

“Everything else is on the table?” he clarifies.

“Nothing gross.”

“Nothing gross,” Wonwoo repeats with a laugh. “I guess that’s all subjective, but I get what you mean.”

God, you wonder what dirty, nasty things this man has done in his lifetime.

“Safeword?” Wonwoo asks next.

You take a deep breath, only needing a moment to consider one. “Harley.”

Mingyu groans behind you, his hands teasing up your thighs, closer and closer to where you need him while he begins to suck on your sweet spot. You can tell from his reaction that the safe word pleased him, and you know that everyone is aware how close you are to letting the fun actually begin.

Wonwoo has done his due diligence, now, he just has to do you.

“Gyu, how about you get her warmed up?” Wonwoo suggests, and the man you’re sitting on wastes no time with the request. Mingyu immediately slips his hand under the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers finding your clit through your panties while you squirm on his lap.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, “she’s so wet already.”

“That’s no surprise,” Wonwoo says nonchalantly, pivoting and moving away.

You watch him go, curious as to what he’s up to. Mingyu, meanwhile, is focused on getting your attention. He pushes your panties to the side, stroking your pussy, teasing as if he’s about to dip his fingers into you, only to circle your clit again.

You snap way too easily, turning to press kisses along his jaw. You reach a hand up to cup his cheek, prompting him to meet your lips. All it takes is a little tongue action for Mingyu to also break, finally slipping a digit into your wet core.

You whimper at the feeling, grinding down on his hand. The wiggling of your hips adds friction to the front of Mingyu’s pants, and he releases his own groan of pleasure.

He adds a second finger and you find yourself gasping. Your thighs spread to accommodate Mingyu. His slow stroking is driving you wild, and the ever constant pressure on your clit only intensifies the situation.

“Lay her down,” Wonwoo’s voice snaps you out of your Mingyu haze, and you break the kiss to blink up at Wonwoo.

You notice something in his hands, but before you can get a better look, Mingyu is pulling his hand from your core and standing up, taking you with him.

He gently places you onto the bed, tearing off your pants. His fingers go to hook in your underwear, but one tutting sound from Wonwoo makes him stop in his tracks.

“Leave those on for now,” Wonwoo instructs. “You might be skipping things because you’re needy, but I remember your panty kink.”

Panty kink? Mingyu has a panty kink?

Fuck.

You wonder how much Wonwoo knows about Mingyu’s sexual preferences, things that you haven’t even learned yet.

No matter how worried you were about this before you agreed to a threesome, it’s becoming more and more clear that Wonwoo might carry the keys to unlocking Mingyu’s full potential in bed- now, you’re worried what that means for the fully monogamous aspect of your relationship.

“Take off your shirt and bra for us,” Wonwoo prompts next. “I want to see you.”

His voice had softened at the end of the request, and the fact that Wonwoo has a good mix between commanding, and a tone that’s almost on the pleading side, has you immediately making good on what he’s just asked of you.

You slip your shirt off, tossing it onto the floor. Arching your back, you get at the clasp of your bra, and soon, it joins the discarded fabric next to the bed.

Mingyu gets onto the mattress between your thighs, his hands stroking up your legs, which spread for him again.

“Here,” Wonwoo tosses the thing he’d been holding onto your chest.

When you pick it up, you realize it’s a blindfold.

Wonwoo meets your questioning gaze. “Put that on. You trust us, right?”

You swallow thickly, then, you slip on the blindfold, obscuring your vision completely.

“That’s our good girl,” Wonwoo muses, and his satisfaction has your core throbbing. He’s being a lot nicer than you’d hoped he would be- part of you had wondered if this would a rage fueled fuck, revenge for the ghosting. But the way Wonwoo’s treating you- it’s clear he has no animosity toward you for your past, regardless of the cold way he’s been acting toward you up until tonight.

Even with the blindfold, it’s clear who’s still rubbing your legs. And when Mingyu shifts his weight, bending down to press kisses along your inner thighs, you know it’s still him.

Although there aren’t any surprises happening in terms of who is touching you, with your vision cut off, every brush of Mingyu against your skin feels even more intense. Without the pressure of keeping your eyes open, or following the action with your gaze, you can simply lay back and enjoy what’s happening.

Mingyu’s mouth reaches your core, and his breath through the fabric makes you twitch.

When his tongue makes contact with your wet panties, you both let out groans. The world seems suspended in anticipated pleasure, if even just for a moment, before Mingyu practically dives in.

His tongue pushes at your panties, and the teasing aspect of his muscle prodding at your core has your stomach already twisting into knots. It’s like he’s trying to devour your underwear, trying to push his tongue through so he can get at you-

You’d never imagined keeping your pussy covered with a thin piece of fabric would reveal to you how desperate Mingyu is to properly be eating you.

Your hands reach down, tangling in Mingyu’s hair, and you begin to grind against his face, using his nose to add pressure to your clit.

Something brushes by your nipple, and you practically jump at the contact. Then, the soft bud is pinched between two fingers. It’s not a hard pinch, not enough to hurt, but enough to have your pussy throbbing even more from the idea of pain.

You also know that it’s Wonwoo who has finally decided to touch you, and you’re kind of scared of the effect that’s having.

Mingyu doesn’t even notice his friend beginning to play with your tits, he’s much too distracted by licking your core through your panties. You’d bet that if you took your blind fold off right now, you’d find his own eyes closed, his mind completely consumed by the act of being close to your pussy without really being able to get at it.

“Does he feel good?” Wonwoo asks.

“Uh huh,” you nod, tightening your grip in Mingyu’s hair so you can grind harder against his mouth.

“He’s already nearly breaking,” Wonwoo muses, “how far along are you?”

“I-” You swallow thickly. “I don’t know.”

“I want you to enjoy the teasing, want you to be brought to the edge like this, and when you’re finally about to snap, I’ll let him pull your panties to the side. You can ride his face while you cum for us.”

Your muscles clench at his words, and you nod quickly. “Okay.”

“Where are your manners?” He pinches your nipple even more roughly, and you let out a delighted squeal.

“Okay, yes, thank you, thank you, Wonwoo,” you correct yourself.

“Good girl.” The pinching subsides, but you almost miss the pain. “You look good like this.”

“Thank you!” you blurt out, not wanting to fumble your manners so early just because he’s being sweet to you.

Wonwoo’s fingers leave your breast, and your focus shifts to Mingyu again. He’s begun rubbing his nose against your clit, and you’d bet that Wonwoo’s words about getting you to the edge have inspired the motion.

Mingyu knows that clit stimulus will get you there faster than the teasing of his tongue along your panties, and you give yourself to the pleasure he’s providing.

Wet lips wrap around your nipple and your body jolts. One your hands immediately flies to the back of Wonwoo’s head, threading through his soft curls while he sucks on you. He releases a groan of satisfaction. You respond with a whimper of your own, pushing your chest up toward his mouth.

Nothing has ever felt like this.

Having two sexy men worship you is making your body short circuit faster than it ever has before.

You can feel your orgasm rising in your stomach, and before you even know it, you’re letting out a gasp. “Fuck, I’m close- shit, thank you, fuck, I’m gonna-”

You can’t even finish your sentence, Mingyu tugs your panties to the side, pushing two digits into your hole while his lips find your clit, sucking the sensitive bud while he groans like a starved man.

Wonwoo’s teeth simultaneously graze your nipple, and the combination of stimuli is enough to throw you over the edge.

Your pussy clamps down on Mingyu’s fingers, waves of pleasure exploding out from your core. The loudest moan you’ve ever released sings out of you, and your grip tightens in both of their curls. You’re used to having one anchor, Mingyu, who you hold onto to keep you from floating too high to cloud nine, but now, even with two anchors, you still find yourself drifting away into a state of bliss you’ve never even dreamed of.

Wonwoo’s free hand finds your neglected breast, and a pinch at your nipple has even more electric energy surging through you, your back arching at how intense this all is.

Mingyu hasn’t stopped between your thighs, his fingers are unrelenting inside of your throbbing core, his tongue flicking your clit better than any vibrator or toy ever has.

You cum, and cum, and cum-

Mingyu releases a sinful groan, and you can feel something splash your inner thighs. Mingyu pulls away from your clit, licking up the liquid-

Wonwoo’s mouth leaves your breasts, and you can feel his gaze slipping between your legs.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you could squirt, baby,” he muses, massaging your breast in a way that almost feels loving.

“I didn’t-” you struggle to speak amidst your moans, “I can’t-

“No one’s ever made you squirt before?” Wonwoo finishes your sentence for you.

“No, sir, I mean- yes, sir-”

You hear Wonwoo let out a chuckle, and he pinches your nipple, making you cry out even more. “Sir, huh? Looks like our good girl has really learned her manners, Gyu.”

You’re not sure where the title had come from, but calling Wonwoo ‘sir’ had just felt right, it still feels right, as you writhe against his bed sheets.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Wonwoo sighs. Fingers brush by your cheek, and the sudden touch makes you flinch. “She’s crying, Gyu.”

Mingyu groans deeply, his fingers coming to a stop in your pussy. When he removes them, and both men pull away, you can finally take a deep breath after the intensity of your orgasm. Your entire body shudders as you try to steady yourself after what they’ve just given you.

In the periphery, you can hear a wet sucking sound, and you’d bet your life that Mingyu is licking his fingers clean.

“Squirting all over him like that got your boyfriend hard as fuck, baby, I think I’ll be nice and let him fuck you now.”

God, there’s so much you want to think about with that sentence- specifically the way Wonwoo just referred to Mingyu as your boyfriend, a term that you haven’t yet used- but you’re also so needy for Mingyu’s cock now that you can’t sit and ponder the relationship development.

“Yes, please, Mingyu, fuck, need your cock-” you whine, reaching down to tug your panties off-

Another set of hands grabs the fabric, and before you can fumble to get your underwear down your legs, Mingyu simply tears them in two to get at you.

His cockhead is rubbing against your soaked folds a moment later, and you let out a whimper of desperation.

“Fuck, Angel, you’re doing so good for us,” Mingyu groans, slipping the head into you.

“Gyu-” you whimper, grabbing at the bed sheets, your eyes rolling into the back of your head from the stretch of his girthy tip.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he tells you, one hand flattening on your abdomen to keep you still. “I could slide all the way in like this-”

“Do it,” Wonwoo says simply. “Bet she’d fucking love that.”

“I would,” you agree, whimpering at the idea of him filling you up with one powerful thrust. “Please, split me open-”

The words no sooner leave your mouth than Mingyu is doing just as you’d asked. In one motion, he sinks the entirety of his cock into your wet, ready hole.

His hips hit flush to your own, and you release something between a cry and a scream. Your inner walls struggle desperately to accommodate the large intrusion that your body is still not used to even after fucking Mingyu countless times.

Before Mingyu, ‘Like a Virgin’ had just been a Madonna song, now, it’s something you understand completely.

Mingyu’s mouth finds your neck as he leans his entire, large, muscled body over your own. His lips are hot as they suckle on your sweet spot, and you grab at his strong shoulders, wrapping your legs around his hips.

He starts slow with his motions, only pulling out slightly. With each small rut, his cock sinks so deep that it hits a spot that makes you go mind numb.

You’re a gasping, wriggling mess for Mingyu, and from the sounds leaving his own lips, you know he loves it.

His pace starts to increase. You can feel your pussy tingling with each thrust, the vein along the underside of his cock stimulating your walls perfectly.

Mingyu draws your lips to his own, and you find yourself in a desperate clash of tongues.

“How cute,” Wonwoo’s voice draws you back to reality. “For the record, baby, I’ve never seen Mingyu this into someone.”

God, why is he being so nice to you?

Why does the thought that you make Mingyu come undone unlike anyone else have your pussy throbbing?

Your hand moves before your mind even registers what you’re doing. It flails out toward Wonwoo’s voice, and you’re pretty sure you make contact with his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Wonwoo asks, tone shifting.

You break the kiss with Mingyu, and his lips find your throat while you address his friend. “Wanna touch.”

Wonwoo is silent, and moments feel like minutes. Then, you hear a belt buckle, and a zipper being pulled down.

“You just wanna touch?” Wonwoo prompts.

Before you can even respond, Mingyu is nipping at your ear. He’s breathing heavily, fucking you faster. “Do you wanna suck him off, Angel? I won’t be mad if you do.”

This is a threesome, it wouldn’t be fair if Wonwoo didn’t get a bit of you too…

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Wonwoo prompts.

“Yes, I wanna suck you off,” you clarify, doing your best to make your voice sound confident.

Mingyu groans, and then he pulls off of you. You whine at the loss of him, but he flips you onto all fours, pulling your ass into the air so he can push his cock into you again. You do your best to steady yourself on your hands, and the bed dips in front of you, signaling Wonwoo’s arrival.

“Here,” Wonwoo’s voice is soft, as soft as his touch when he pulls the blindfold off of you. “Wanna see that pretty face when you choke around my cock.”

In the red light from the tiled wall mount, Wonwoo looks insane. Yeah, a little insane in the crazy way, but insanely sexy too.

He’s taken his shirt off, and you’re shocked to find washboard abs that make you drool immediately. His curls are all flouncy and illuminated by the red, like a halo, or even devil horns. His jeans are undone, but he doesn’t have his cock out yet, which you kind of appreciate.

Although you can see his length straining against the black denim, he didn’t immediately stick his dick down your throat, he’s giving you time to adjust to the new position.

You blink up at him, and Wonwoo smiles, cupping your cheek. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

“So good,” Mingyu echoes, digging his fingers into your hips as he begins to fuck you like a mad man.

“Sir,” you breathe.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I suck you off now?”

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Go for it.”

You realize he’s not going to help you take his cock out, not yet at least. It’s difficult to hold yourself up with one hand while Mingyu fucks you, your free one reaching for his jeans. You hook your fingers in the fabric, trying to tug them down.

Part of you thinks Wonwoo likes watching you struggle. He’s said he’d be nice, wouldn’t degrade you, and he’s not, but this feels like it’s bordering on humiliation.

Here you are, getting fucked stupid, holding yourself up on one shaky hand while the other tugs desperately at his pants, trying to free his cock so you can have it sink down your throat-

“You’re cute,” Wonwoo muses, finally giving in.

He pushes his pants down, his cock springing up against his abdomen.

He’s long. Maybe not as long as Mingyu, and not as thick either, but that just means you might actually be able to take him fully into your mouth, unlike your boyfriend’s monster cock that you can’t even fully suck halfway.

Even though Wonwoo isn’t as big as Mingyu, he’s confident in himself, and that makes things all the more sexy.

He grabs the base of his length, holding the tip out for you.

Meeting his eyes, you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue.

Wonwoo taps himself along the wet muscle, then he teases the tip just past your lips- you go to wrap your mouth around him, only for him to pull back with a laugh. “Eager, are you?”

You nod, “uh huh.”

He doesn’t even tut at you for your lack of manners, after all, you’re still holding your mouth open for him, unwilling to close it if even for a few moments to say a ‘yes, sir.’

“I guess I can give it to you,” Wonwoo sighs. Although he’s trying to sound unbothered, you can tell from his leaky red tip that he’s just as turned on by this as you are. You can see through Wonwoo now, and you wonder how that’s going to impact your opinion of him.

This man who likes to seem hard and domineering, who likes to appear nonchalant- you wonder what kind of thoughts are swimming in that pretty head of is.

Wonwoo slips his cock into your mouth, and you immediately begin to suck it, twirling your tongue along the tip. He pushes in another inch, testing your abilities. His eyes are fixed on yours, and you stare up at him, wanting to please.

Mingyu fucks you harder, prompting you forward onto Wonwoo’s cock. You take more and more of him, doing your best to relax and focus on the pleasure Mingyu is giving you, rather than the uncomfortable feeling of a heavy dick on your tongue.

You enjoy giving oral, but you’ve always found it easier to have some other stimulus to anchor yourself- Mingyu’s cock splitting you open is just the right amount of distraction. When Wonwoo hits the back of your throat, you hardly choke, too enraptured by Mingyu behind you to carefully about your gag reflex.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Wonwoo tells you, having watched for your limits and reactions.

He begins to thrust now, matching Mingyu’s motions. It’s a push pull, and you kind of love being used like this, having two cock filling you up. They’re almost synchronized, and it turns you on that they’ve done this before, that they’re familiar with each other.

You couldn’t imagine a better pair to lose your threesome virginity to.

Wonwoo’s hand grabs your hair, and you watch as he throws his head bad, letting out a groan.

Fuck, he’s so sexy- they both are. Mingyu’s grip on your hips is even tighter, and you know what that means.

“I’m close,” your boyfriend announces.

“Well I just started,” Wonwoo retorts. “Hold it.”

You’re shocked that Mingyu doesn’t even fight back, his thrusts simply slow down a notch. Wonwoo, meanwhile, speeds up, and you do your best to hollow your cheeks around his cock, sucking on him like you’ve never sucked on anyone before.

“You’re good with your mouth, baby,” Wonwoo praises you.

“She’s so good,” Mingyu agrees, reaching a hand around your body so he can rub your clit.

You jolt at the contact, pussy clenching desperately around Mingyu’s cock.

“Fuck, Woo, we’re both close-” Mingyu groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder, his breath hot across your skin.

“I guess I can make this quick,” Wonwoo grunts, hips shuddering.

Mingyu draws fluid, lazy circles on your clit, speckling your shoulders with kisses while he ruts slowly into your core. You suck on Wonwoo diligently, like it’s your job- after all, it is your job to make him cum in order for you and Mingyu to get there too.

The pressure in your abdomen is getting tighter and tighter, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold off, especially with the sounds Mingyu’s making-

“You two are so needy,” Wonwoo muses, letting out a small chuckle. “Fuck.”

“You gotta let her cum,” Mingyu practically begs. “She’s squeezing me like a fucking vice, dude- this is torture.”

Wonwoo’s hips jolt at Mingyu’s words, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You feel your muscles constrict around both of them, and they both groan in response.

“You’re too good at this,” Wonwoo tells you. “When I cum, you both get to cum.”

It’s not an outward admittance that he’s close, but you can tell he is. His stomach muscles are clenching with effort as he uses your face, and the small groans of pleasure leaving him are higher in number now.

He fucks your face even faster, and Mingyu takes this as a cue to begin fucking you properly again. “Can you rub your clit, Angel?” he asks. “I need to grab your hips.”

You moan a sound of affirmation around Wonwoo, holding yourself up on one wobbly hand while the other slips between your legs.

“That’s it,” Mingyu groans, straightening behind you and taking hold of your hips with both hands. His pace matches Wonwoo’s now, and you can feel your orgasm so close-

You can almost taste it.

In fact, you can taste Wonwoo’s, a strangled gasp escaping him as he cums down your throat suddenly.

“Our turn, Angel,” Mingyu moans, pace quickening to a speed that would almost be painful if it wasn’t so pleasurable. Your fingers are rough on your own clit, and you do your best to swallow every drop of Wonwoo’s spend.

When he pulls out of your mouth, you breathe in a strangled gasp- only for moans of pleasure to escape you uncensored.

“Fuck, that’s it, Angel, almost there, almost there-” Mingyu groans. “Fuck, cum for me, cum for us- fuck, cum on my cock-”

His words throw you over the edge. You lean forward, resting your cheek against Wonwoo’s thigh while your orgasm overtakes you. Waves of pleasure surge through your body, making you shake- Mingyu’s hands hold your hips steady, keeping you where he wants you while he fucks you through your high, coating your insides with his thick cum.

You’re both moaning messes, completely given over to the ecstasy that you find in each other.

Your hand falls from between your legs, and soon, Mingyu’s motions stop. He keeps himself buried inside of you, trying to catch his breath.

“I’ll get some tissue,” Wonwoo says. He pulls away from you, and you collapse face first onto the bed, shuddering from the aftershocks of your high.

Mingyu’s hands begin to stoke your body, a silent assurance that you did well for them.

Wonwoo comes back with tissues, and Mingyu pulls out. You bring the kleenex to your dripping hole, careful not to get any cum onto Wonwoo’s bed-

Which is when you remember you squirted all over the comforter already.

You lay on your back, giggling to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Wonwoo asks. Fingers go to pinch your nipple and you flinch, rolling away from him.

“I got squirt all over your bed,” you tell him.

“Naughty girl,” he says, but there’s an inkling of pride in his tone.

“It’s okay,” Mingyu says, reaching to pull you off the bed. “I’m going to go clean her up, you can throw your stuff in the laundry, and we can stay in my room tonight.”

You’re not sure why the idea of sleeping next to Wonwoo feels more intimate than the fact that he just came down your throat, but ten minutes later, when you’re snuggling between the two men, you find yourself almost unsure of how to act.

Mingyu’s already passed out, soft snores filling the room, and it’s Wonwoo who notices your unease as you shift under the sheets.

“Relax,” he tells you, his hands drawing you to his chest. “You’re safe with us.”

For some reason, his words actually calm you down, and after a few more deep breaths, you pass out on the chest of the man you’d ghosted over half a year ago.

Epilogue

It’s been two months since you and Mingyu invited Wonwoo into your bed. Two months of great sex, but it’s even deeper than that.

Mingyu is outwardly your boyfriend, and he loves showing his claim over you every chance he gets, but Wonwoo is still on the fence about where he fits in your relationship.

You’re at the bar where Wonwoo works, it’s a place you’ve been becoming more of a regular at. Mingyu is out with Cheol, but he’ll be meeting you shortly. Right now, all there is to do is wait and try not to flirt with Wonwoo too hard while he mixes drinks.

Wonwoo is chatting with another regular, an old guy who keeps looking over at you. Finally, the man asks, “How do you two know each other?”

You and Wonwoo exchange a look. You wait for him to define the relationship, after all, out of everyone in your odd little throuple, Wonwoo’s the one who likes to go slowest when it comes to relationship milestones.

After a moment of consideration, Wonwoo responds, “She’s a friend. Dating my roommate.”

“Ah, okay,” the man nods.

It hurts for Wonwoo to not claim you the way you wish he would, but at the same time, you understand his hesitancy.

When you’d first started fucking Wonwoo, you’d thought he was a doberman to Mingyu’s golden retriever, but now, you think he’s more of a black cat. If you move too fast or too sudden, you’re afraid of scaring him off, and that’s the last thing you’d want to do.

With a sigh, you lift your drink to your lips. You suppose having one boyfriend who claims you with all of his heart makes up for having another who is still unsure about what to call you.

But it doesn’t mean things hurt any less.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I'm happy I was able to get this fic out in time for spring :) when I tell you this shit was five months in the making-

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🔮 preview. Mingyu gives you all the love you’ve ever dreamed of from your romance novels. And Wonwoo gives you all the kinky sex you’ve fantasized about from the erotica you read. It’s the best of both worlds, and as Wonwoo sinks his cock into your wet pussy, you begin to suck on Mingyu.

cw/ tw. Exhibitionism, unprotected sex, sex in an alley, sex over a Harley motorcycle, eiffle tower/ spit roasting, quickie, blow job, deep throating, dirty talk, praise, cum/filling kink, inklings of humiliation, Wonwoo is a little rough, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 220

🌙 staring. Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!reader

bonus

“I’m just gonna head outside with Cheol for a quick vape break,” Mingyu tells you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before he exits the bar with his buddy.

You turn to Wonwoo, who is busy mixing some elaborate drink for a group of cougars a few seats down. It’s a decent night here at his workplace, it’s summer now, so most evenings are good for him.

“Is this seat taken?” You turn to see the regular from a few months ago standing there, and you’re quick to offer him the chair, after all, you and Mingyu will be leaving soon anyways. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” the man asks.

You exchange a look with Wonwoo. “Yeah, I uh… I met you a few months ago,” you try to explain, pointing at your bartender. “I’m this guy’s friend.”

“Right, dating his roommate, now I remember,” the man nods.

Wonwoo has stopped what he’s doing, and he’s staring at you.

There’s a hint of danger in his eyes, and you’re not quite sure why. Then he sets down his drink, coming around the bar, and grabbing your arm. “Come outside,” he instructs.

“What? Now?” you ask in shock, looking around at the bartop that's full of people who need drinks. “You’re working!”

“I don’t care. Come.”

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