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borathae · 30 days ago

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↳ Index [Day 31 - Werewolves]

Pairing: Alpha Dom!Jungkook x f. Omega sub!Reader

Genre: childhood best friends to enemies to lovers!AU, werewolf!AU

Warnings: Kook is kinda cold at first, it is implied that OC gets sold into a forced marriage where she will be tortured and assaulted (not to Kook but a villain character hahaha), yeah...her future is not looking good, or is it?, Koo might have a plan :----)

Kinks: the trope of "just the tip" and "we shouldn't be doing this", yeah besties i went there, sex in a shed in the forest, sex by the bonfire, nudity, naked cuddling for warmth *wink wink*, he is bigger and stronger than her, size & muscle & strength kink, he pins her down, fuck i'm literally so small when it comes to him like bro please i have so many thots, hahah sorry i'm really into him haahah, he pins her wrists & puts his hand over her mouth to silence her, huge werwolf dick, knotting, multiple orgasms for both, "just the tip" in spooning position, clit massages, rough penetrative sex in pronebone & doggy style, he has her in a headlock at one point, breeding for the sake of scent marking her, so much fucking cum oh lord, dirty talk, he has fangs, he bites her shoulder, he growls, what if i was weak?? what then??, tears, eye contact, this is emotional & has plot and i wanna write more about them, cuddly & safe aftercare, the plot in this is so good omfg

Wordcount: 11.5k

a/n: Click here if you wanna see his dick. I have zero (0) Z E R O knowledge of the workings of the omegaverse. i know that there’s alphas and betas and omegas but that’s it. and that there is heat and knots and slick and scenting(?) but how the dynamics work or what ABO each means? no clue. so if this is inaccurate, bear with me and let's see it as my interpretation of werwolves instead. Okay? Okay. Jjssjjs i also added this idea to the mix ps: i actually don't wanna talk about this, i need to recover first BRO GOODBYE this was kinktober 2024 besties FJJDF what a way to end it tbfh

The storm caught you by surprise. You wouldn’t particularly mind it if it wasn’t for the company you have to keep.

Jeon Jungkook. A stubborn, self-centred peacock of a man who thinks he is something just because he is the son of the alpha.

Now, to perhaps understand the situation a little better, one might need what the literary world calls backstory.

You lived in a small mountain town far away from any big human city. The town was surrounded by high walls and visitors rarely found their way to it. It was wanted by the townspeople because you weren’t particularly human. Most humans would call you demons, but you like to call yourselves werewolves. You lived in a pack and the town was your lair.

You can be human but also turn into a wolf by choice. Some choose to keep some of their wolfish features such as their golden eyes or sharp fangs, while others looked entirely human when they walked on two legs.

Jeon Jungkook was the son of the pack alpha and therefore heir of the title. His mother was an alpha as well, which naturally gave him the alpha gen. He was stronger and faster than the other wolves in the pack and he had control over his body during the full moon. He never hid his fangs and showed his golden eyes whenever he was provoked. He earned his pack tattoos when he was twelve after killing three enemy wolves and when he turned eighteen, he earned the pack piercings after fulfilling the maturity rituals within a day. Something only his father managed to do before him.

Ever since that day, Jungkook became even more obnoxious and unlikable than he already was.

You weren’t so lucky. Born as an omega into a normal family with normal siblings in a normal house, your life has been pretty…normal. You are the same age as Jungkook, which naturally made you go to the same classes from elementary to high school. And throughout your academic career, you never learned to like him.

He was an alpha while you were an omega. You were the only one like this from your family, but they never treated you differently. You were a beloved and cherished family member and therefore lived a normal life until your older brother made a mistake and you had to carry the consequences.

He killed the promised omega wife of the enemy’s alpha’s son. The warring alpha wanted to slaughter the entire town at first, but Jungkook’s father persuaded him to take revenge another way. Take one of the village’s omegas and marry her to his son. “She will be complacent and quiet. Once she is married, she will be your property. You can take out your anger on her.” So Jungkook’s father told him and the enemy alpha agreed happily. One night later, you were dragged from your home with no way to escape your future. You were born this way, it wasn’t your fault and now it would be your death sentence. You cursed your brother that night who begged to be taken in your stead. You told him to choke on it. It was the last thing you said to him and probably will ever say to him. You already started to regret it.

Jungkook was ordered to make sure that you would arrive at the enemy village safe and sound. It has been three days ever since that night and all your hatred for anyone and anything has been directed solely at him.

“The rain’s annoying me. Let’s take shelter”, Jungkook says dryly.

“No.”

Jungkook glares at you.

“Yes”, he hisses, grabbing your arm by your elbow to drag you to a shed nearby. “I’m not gonna walk in the rain. Besides, it’s late. We need to rest.”

“Let go of me”, you protest, stumbling after him. There isn’t much that you can do. He is stronger and bigger and because of his status, he naturally has almost instinctive control over your actions. You could fight against these instincts, but it’s a lot easier not to.

“Would you rather get sick in the rain?”

“Maybe, yes. Maybe I’ll get sick enough to die. At least like this, I won’t be sold into torture”, you spit, ripping yourself free from his grasp. Again, all your hatred and anger is directed towards him, so it is easy to fight your instincts right now.

Jungkook gawks at you in surprise.

“I mean it”, you insist.

He frowns. He steps close and lifts you off the ground, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Hey! Let me down, you fuck!” you yell, flashing your fangs and kicking around you.

Jungkook merely shoulders you better and walks, frowning deeply.

“You brought this onto yourself.”

“I hate you. I fucking hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. You big, smelling piece of shit.”

Jungkook kicks the shed open and drops you. You stumble in surprise, but catch yourself pretty quickly. You and he are mere inches away, sharing air. The constant lighting cutting the sky illuminates your angry faces. You and Jungkook have your golden eyes out and show off your fangs. Your bodies are steaming as your increased body heats dry the water.

“I’m gonna let it slip because we were classmates, but insult me again and I will make you be quiet. Understood?” he gnarls.

You step closer, making him taste your words.

“Go kiss my ass.”

You turn your back to him and stomp further into the shed.

The shed wasn’t much bigger than ten square meters. There were tools on each wall and some tools scattered around the ground. Clearly it was meant as storage for woodworkers. One corner had neat stacks of wood and on a table, some blankets were stacked in case some of the workers needed to stay the night.

“Great. That’s luxury, isn’t it?” you grumble.

The door slams closed behind you, making you flinch. You don’t look however, wanting to appear stronger than you feel. In truth, you are scared and alone and heartbroken. You are frightened. You are sad. You are afraid. You are helpless and hopeless. And you are only a little bit angry. As you walked, you couldn’t stop crying. You were happy for the rain because it masked the constant tears running down your face and you were happy for the loud thunder masking your sobs.

You are being sold like property to a man who will torture you for sports. All you want is to be home and to be held and to have someone pay for your fucking therapy because, goddamn, you are going to need a hell lot of therapy if you should survive this.

Jungkook is the last person you want to be with right now. He lacks empathy and kindness and has a tendency to impulsive anger. You are waiting for him to hurt you after slamming the door, frozen on the spot.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, he swerves past you to get firewood. You can only watch him, frozen like a scared little girl despite having long moved past your second decade on this cruel earth.

Jungkook uses his claws to ignite the fire by scratching them over a stone. He blows into the amber until it forms flames, then he stands up. He hooks his fingers in his shirt and takes it off.

You gasp and look away. You don’t know what he is going to do but it scares you. Is he going to test you out now? Make sure that the alpha is going to get a good delivery?

“Relax. I need to dry my clothes and I can’t do that on my body. I’ll catch a cold otherwise.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook scoffs and starts unbuckling his belt. You watch his tattooed fingers work. He is wearing heavy silver rings on them. Yep, your people can handle silver without pain. It’s only a myth that it hurts you. Just as garlic being lethal for vampires is a myth. Humans like to tell these tales to sleep better at night.

Jungkook begins taking off his pants, meeting your gawking eyes.

“Stop staring and bring the blankets instead.”

“Oh, uhm. Sorry.”

You instinctively obey.

“Make a bed by the fire. Away from the door.”

You obey again.

Afterwards you lift your head, having to gasp and stare. What? Stare? Why can’t you look away?

He is completely naked, currently hanging up his clothes on a chair. You should want to look away but you can’t. His body is sculpted, his muscles well defined. He currently has his back turned to you. It is so big and broad, contrasting against his small waist. Shit, his legs and butt are so big and sculpted in comparison to it. His back is covered scars. Slashes, bite marks, cuts. Some seem to have dug very deep when fresh.

“Just spit it out”, Jungkook hisses, rolling his shoulders which makes his back muscles shift and flex.

“What?”

“I can feel you staring. Just say what you wanna say.”

“Your back. It’s covered in scars.”

Jungkook touches his own back, tracing the scars he can reach.

“I guess it is.”

“Who did this to you?”

“Too many people to count.”

“What happened to them?”

“The fact that I’m still here and they’re not, should be answer enough. Shouldn’t it?”

You gulp.

Jungkook turns.

You gulp even harder. Look away! You know that no matter how hard you beg your eyes, they won’t look away. It is like they are enchanted.

His pecs are big, clearly sculpted and strong. His stomach is defined, carrying scars as well. But what truly catches your eyes is his cock. Sitting under a dark, masculine bush of pubes, it glistens in the shine of the fire. It is big, even soft, a little tanner than the rest of his skin and sitting against a pair of big, plumb balls made for breeding. So this is what the cock of an alpha looks like. The effect it has on you is embarrassing. You feel slick build up in your holes and saliva collect in your mouth.

“Quit your staring. It’s like you’ve never seen a dick before.”

You shake out of your trance, looking away in embarrassment. Your face feels on fire. Holy fuck, what is wrong with you?

“You have seen dick before, right? Weren’t you and Tae a thing in high school?” he talks as he gets under the blanket.

“Uh, yeah, uh. We were.”

“And knowing Tae, he fucked you. Didn’t he?”

You turn away in embarrassment, rubbing the side of your neck. Of course he did, but Jungkook doesn’t need to know that.

He figures it out instantly however, glancing at your middle when you aren’t looking. Just for a second, nothing more.

“So stop being weird about it”, he says and lies down.

You shrink. Jungkook studies you. You are trembling in your wet, cold clothes. He pities you.

“Get naked and hang your clothes up to dry”, he orders.

You want to move in obedience at first, but then stop. You are too scared to obey instinctively.

“No. Close your eyes.”

Jungkook groans and closes his eyes.

“You’re so stuck up. You should practice being naked in front of other people. I heard that Alpha Urquard likes for his pack to watch wedding nights.”

You bite down tears. Great. Not only will you be assaulted, it will happen in front of god knows how many people. What if you just throw yourself onto one of the sharp tools? It would be a bitch way to go, but it’s better than what will happen to you.

You ogle the pitchfork. Maybe you could do it. Maybe.

“Hey!”

You snap out of it. You whip around, meeting Jungkook’s eyes.

“Hurry up and come here.”

“What?”

“Come here. It’s better than over there.”

You ogle the pitchfork then his darkened face. Did he figure you out?

“I’m not gonna repeat myself. Get out of your wet clothes and come to me.”

“Ple-please close your eyes.”

Jungkook sighs in defeat and obeys. With shaking fingers, you get naked. With trembling knees, you walk to his side. With weak muscles, you get under the blanket next to him. There is only one blanket and you try your fucking hardest not to touch his body in any kind of way. He left you the spot closer by the fire so you were warmer and he could oversee the door.

Jungkook, who senses your presence, opens his eyes. He studies your face, then your body. You have the blanket pulled up to your neck, shivering uncontrollably. Even now, you seem plagued by the cold.

He furrows his brows in distaste and closes the distance. He manages to put his arm around you before your quiet beg freezes him.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

He moves away, studying you in shock. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your fingers are trembling as you grasp the blanket.

“Why would I hurt you?”

The honest confusion in his voice forces you to open your eyes.

The fire casts deep shadows into his face as much as it illuminates other parts of it. His wet hair is drying slowly, sticking to his wrinkled forehead. He is furrowing his brows which explains the wrinkles.

“Why would I hurt you?” he repeats his question with more urgency.

“I don’t know.”

“I was ordered to make sure that you arrive unharmed to Urquard. The last thing I’ll do is hurt you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Please don’t?”

“Don’t make sure that I arrive safely.”

Jungkook blinks in surprise. Such vulnerability isn’t what he expected from the once feisty, rude woman of before. You are tiny in fear, trembling uncontrollably and begging him with greyed, hopeless eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re gonna be an alpha’s wife. That’s every omega’s dream”, he snarls, sounding weirdly jealous.

You burst into tears instantly, turning your back to him as you curl into a small ball. You wail loudly, unable to pretend any longer. You don’t want to be married off. You don’t want it.

“No, uh… stop crying. I, I’m ordering you to stop crying”, he panics, hissing his words which only makes you cry harder.

He stares for a while, fumbling with his words. In the end he doesn’t know what to say, turning off his brain to speak from his heart instead.

“Don’t cry, it’s gonna be okay”, he says softly, rubbing your shoulder.

His touch is tender and soothing. You sob despite it or perhaps because of it. It feels so weird to receive because it is nice.

“Hey, it’s okay”, he tells you, draping his arm over you. Like this, your bodies are touching under the blanket. He feels so warm against your skin. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s not gonna be okay. I’m being sold like a pig to a man who likes to watch his daughters in law get raped in front of the entire pack and who will use every second of his life to torture me.” You shrink into yourself. “I just wanna die. I’m so scared.”

“Hey no, don’t say that. Don’t be scared, I’m here.”

“I heard that Urquard killed his first wife by ramming a medal hook into her stomach and hanging her like this. All because she couldn’t give him a child with the alpha gen. Please just kill me, please.”

“I’m not gonna kill you, ___.”

The last time Jungkook said your name, you and he were both eleven and played adventurers in the forest. He celebrated his twelfth birthday two weeks later and another two weeks later, he killed those three wolves and got his tattoos. He stopped playing with you and stopped saying your name. Quite frankly, he stopped playing with any children since that day, saying stuff like “a man wouldn’t play stupid stuff” or “my father says that it’s weak to play” and he became quiet and distant. Maybe he became sadder as well and lonelier.

Your name from his tongue after almost fifteen years forces you to turn in his arms. For just a second, the same innocent and playful boy looks back at you before you blink and come back to reality. His features and eyes are still the same shape and colour but he seemed to have grown into them. His left cheek carries a scar these days and his brows are furrowed more than they are relaxed.

“I’m not gonna kill you, ___. And I’m not gonna let you kill yourself either.”

“So you would rather see me sold to a monster?” You squeeze out tears of anger and frustration. “I hate you so much. You sadistic, heartless piece of shit.”

Jungkook frowns deeper.

“You alphas are all the same. You think just because you are stronger than the rest of us, you can push us around like cattle. We aren’t cattle. We are people, we live normal and good lives. We are nothing special but that’s good. We’re boring and mundane but we love deeply. Unlike you disgusting, selfish alphas who see us as nothing but merchandise.”

“Are you done now?”

“I’ve only started. You are heartless, selfish, self-absorbed, apathetic and a snob. At the spot where your heart once was, a rotten piece of coal is sitting and when you talk, plants die out of spite.”

“Anything else you like to add?”

“You are the worst person to ever exist. You are elitist and stubborn and way too obsessed with status. And you…” Your eyes fill with tears. “...you broke my heart before I even knew what heartbreak was.”

Jungkook’s eyes darken in an unfamiliar emotion. Guilt? Regret? More anger?

“We did everything together until one day, you decided that I wasn’t good enough anymore. For fuck’s sake, we were twelve and you acted like I was embarrassing for doing stuff kids our age were allowed to do.”

“You think that I had a choice?” He finally speaks up and you get a feeling that it was your turn to listen. “I stopped being a kid in my father’s eyes the day I killed those wolves. I didn’t wanna push you away, but father made me.”

“What?”

“I became his heir that day, I sealed my fucking fate. I had to stop playing a-and doing kid’s stuff. He forced me to train day in and out. I had to be the perfect man. I was twelve, for fuck’s sake. I was a fucking kid who wanted to play adventurers in the forest with, with his….with his best friend.”

The silence which follows after his confession is deafening. Fifteen years of hating him. Fifteen years of thinking that he hated you. And all this time, he only acted like this because his father made him. You meet his emotional eyes, feeling emotional yourself.

“I was your best friend?” you whisper.

He nods his head, biting down on his lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“I miss you, ___”, he presses out.

You feel lost for words. You are so shaken in fact that you can’t even find it in you to cry. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of hating him for what he did and wishing for an apology you thought would never come and here it is. His confession. His apology.

“It’s been fifteen years and I still do. I miss you and I’m sorry.” He cups your face, wiping away the remnants of tears. “I’m so sorry.”

You stare. And stare. And stare.

“Please say something”, he whispers.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Just anything, please.”

“You’re the most selfish piece of shit I have ever seen.”

Jungkook’s face falls in shock. His eyes show how much your words hurt him.

“Why tell me your stupid apology now? Why confess to me now? Knowing that I will be sold into a life of sex slavery and torture?” You hit his chest. “Why tell me now when you literally deliver me to my fucking death? You piece of shit, you’re selfish and cruel and I want you dead.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. You and your entire family and the rest of the pack. Die. All of you just die.”

You hit him with more vigour. More and more and more.

“Enough”, he stops you, pinning your wrists into the ground and with it, rendering you helpless, “stop hitting me, please.”

You spit at his face.

Jungkook flinches back. He sits up and wipes it away.

“What the fuck? You spat at me. Why would you do that?”

“Go to hell and shove your sappy confession up your sadistic ass”, you hiss. You feel no ounce of remorse for what you did.

Jungkook wipes your spit into the blanket and moves quickly. He puts your wrists together and pins them above your head. Before you can spit again, he puts his other hand over your mouth, rending your legs useless as well by slinging one of his muscular legs over yours.

There is no fabric between your bodies. You are skin against skin. Raw and naked and hot. You can feel his dick against you and you know that he can feel your tits against his arm. You are rendered useless, vulnerable to whatever he plans to do to you now that spat at him. You are scared, but you are also droopy. It is that same droopiness you felt when you looked at his naked body. Except stronger and more unbearable. You are hotter and there is slick gathering in your holes. You can barely breathe, but maybe this is because of his hand over your mouth.

“Stop fighting me and listen”, Jungkook talks with his lips close to your face. You can’t stop staring at them. You fight him while your mind goes droopy at the sight of his lips moving. “You can either go to your new life or listen. Are you gonna listen?”

You nod your head.

“Good. I’m gonna pull my hand away now and you won’t spit at my face again. Promise?”

You nod hesitantly.

“Good. I trust your word.”

He pulls his hand away, keeping his arm around you. It lies exactly over your tits, rubbing against your nipples. You know for a fact that he is able to feel it. You curl your fingers, trying so hard not to get affected by his closeness. Or to make a sound for that matter.

“I said this stuff to you because I wanna make it right between us. Your brother fucked up, but what Urquard did in retaliation is crazy and what father allowed is insane. If you want me to, I won’t bring you to him.”

“What? But…your father promised.”

“I don’t care. It’s barbaric that omega trading is still a thing. You are right, you are people not cattle.”

“If he finds out that you refuse, he will disown you.”

“I have a plan for that.”

“Urquard will kill you.”

“That’s why I have a plan.”

“What plan?”

“It’s gonna sound insane.”

“Just tell me please. I don’t wanna be sold.”

“The only way I can free you of this pact is if you get marked by another alpha. You’re unclaimed right now, but if you were to be marked by an alpha other than Urquard’s son, then the pact would be invalid.”

“What do you mean with marked?”

He hesitates.

“Tell me.”

“An alpha would have to put his dick into you.”

“So assault? I would have to be assaulted?”

“Not if you wanted it.”

“Huh?”

“Not if it’s with someone you trust. Someone who’s gonna be careful and gentle and who’s gonna make it nice for you.”

“And who should that be? Last time I checked, I’m not really friends with many…”

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s. He seems shy all of a sudden.

“Oh.”

You gasp for air.

“Oh.”

“I know it’s crazy. I thought of other ways. I’ve been plotting ever since we left town. That’s why I volunteered. To give us time, to give me time to think of something. I thought of lots of stuff, but they all ended in hypothetical death or enslavement of our pack. The only peaceful option was this.”

“You volunteered to bring me?”

He nods his head, “anyone else would have been too scared of or too loyal to my dad. I know you’re scared, but I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“And you thought of this?”

“It’s the only way. We kill Urquard and his sons? Their pack comes after us. We run away? Their pack is gonna punish our pack. We kill everyone? Impossible we’d die and destine our pack to agony. It’s only death and pain u-unless you get marked by an alpha.”

“But I would have to be with you afterwards.”

“Only if you want to. We can pretend, make everyone think that it’s real. You wouldn’t have to be with me ever again.”

“Oh my god, this is insane.”

“I know. I’m sorry. The choice is yours. I promise.”

You study his face. You are still trapped under him, sharing heat. Skin against skin. arm against chest and cock against hip. He is semi hard by now, smearing slick on your skin. The fact that he is affected by this - by you - doesn’t make it easier to stay calm. You are glad for his leg over yours because it forces your legs to be closed and therefore hide the masses of slick having accumulated by now. His hair is still damp, hanging into his face messily. His fingers feel so strong and protective around your wrists. You swear that each time he breathes out and you inhale it, you feel high. You are so attracted to him right now.

Truth be told, you always thought that he was handsome beyond comparison. He has a mesmerizing aura and a captivating smile. His physique is your dream physique and his face often caught your attention in a crowd. You were utterly and insanely attracted to him which made your hatred for him grow deeper. He betrayed you, but he is still haunting your thoughts. It was unbearable until right now.

“I’m scared. I never did it with an alpha before”, you confess, suddenly feeling so vulnerable.

And Jungkook takes that vulnerability, cradling it in his safe palm just as he cradles your cheek the same way. His eyes softened, his voice did too.

“Don’t be scared. I’ll be gentle. I promise”, he almost whispers the words, tracing your brow and temple between cradling your cheek.

“I don’t know you like that.”

“Neither do I you. It’s gonna be a one time thing.”

“I’m scared. I’ve been scared ever since all of this started.”

“Don’t be. I’m here. I won’t let them touch you.”

“But you’ll touch me?” you ask in a whisper, lifting the inner corners of your brows.

Jungkook has a hard time staying calm when you look at him with such puppy eyes.

“If you let me, I will.”

You exhale shakily, squirming under him.

“I’m scared.”

He lets go of your wrists to cradle your other cheek. You lean into the touch, barely wanting to keep your eyes open. Your arms stay in their submissive position naturally.

“Just the tip. That’s all it takes. Just the tip for a few seconds so you take on my scent and then it’ll be over”, he says.

“Just the tip?”

“Yes, just the tip. Nothing more. I promise.”

You are going to do something which you thought never to do. But if it saves your life, you would do anything. Even something as crazy as allow Jungkook to stick his tip into you.

“Okay. Just the tip.”

Jungkook exhales shakily, moving closer for a kiss like it was instinct before he stops himself. You shudder, craving nothing more than what he denies both of you.

“We shouldn’t be doing this”, he breathes.

“What?”

“Kiss.” He lets the word dance over your lips, running his thumb under your lips as his eyes stare. “We shouldn’t.”

“No, we shouldn’t”, you whimper, chasing him.

Moments of craving and yearning where both of you try so hard to kiss the other. But you shouldn’t. Just the tip, nothing more.

“Roll to your side, please”, Jungkook breaks the electric silence, guiding you with his hand on your shoulder until your back faces his chest.

You can see the fire and the rest of the shed like this, but not Jungkook.

“Why like this?”

“If I look at your face, I’ll stick it in completely. I can’t do this to you.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook closes the distance, connecting his hand with your hip. He guides it up your body, travelling along your waist and arm. His touch leaves goosebumps where it goes. His palm is slightly calloused from fighting but incredibly tender in how it touches you. You feel yourself breathe heavier and heavier the longer he touches you.

He reaches your shoulder, closing the last of the distance by lowering his lips to your back.

“Ah”, you let out quietly, tensing up. Your eyes are widened comically big, staring into the bright flames. He is kissing your naked skin. What the fuck.

Jungkook’s eyes are closed in contrast. His head is foggy, but he tries to fight these feelings. You smell so good that it is very difficult to do so.

His hand is still on your shoulder at first but moves to your waist when he guides his kisses to said shoulder.

“Oh god”, you whisper, sighing afterwards.

Jungkook feels droopy from the sound, digging his fingers into the softness of your side. He shouldn’t be doing this. Just the tip. That’s what he said. And yet here he is, kissing your soft skin as if it was his right to do so. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop. He traces and holds your side and stomach, telling himself that he only does it to relax you. He kisses every inch of your exposed back and shoulder, telling himself that he only does it to calm you down. When in truth he does all of this because he wants to make it nice for you. And maybe he wants to be a source of tenderness after what you had to go through.

Lies. These are still lies. He fucking does this because he wants to. He fucking does it because he wants to know how it is to touch you. Taehyung talked when you and he were high school sweethearts. Oh, Taehyung talked and Jungkook had to listen and secretly seethe with jealousy. It should be him, he thought back then, he would know how to treat you right.

You had no idea of these thoughts. You still haven’t as you lie here next to the warm fire while Jungkook touches you oh so carefully. You don’t know if you’re allowed to close your eyes. Just the tip, you agreed on. Can you close your eyes for that?

But it feels so good. His lips are soft, while his piercings are hard in contrast. His touch is currently dancing up the middle of your torso slowly. You fight the shivers wanting to run through you.

You lose the fight a moment later when he pulls you against his strong chest and kisses your neck.

You whimper, trembling like crazy. You arch into him, craning your neck to give him more of it. Your heart skips beats under his lips. Jungkook grips the blanket to stop his hand from cradling your tits.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this”, he presses out under his breath, mouthing at your neck hungrily. “I shouldn’t….do…this.”

He drags his lips to your jawline and sucks. Your eyes close.

You mewl, rolling your hips back into him. His cock slides between your legs, rubbing between your puffy folds. He trembles in shock, gripping your hip to stop your wiggles.

“Don’t do this. Don’t act like this when it is supposed to mean nothing.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

“Mhhm I know. You can’t, but I can. I won’t do it again, I’m sorry.”

You swallow your begs, not wanting to appear weak or desperate. It is so difficult not to beg when you have his cock between your legs. Hugged by your folds and exchanging slick. He feels hot and his veins are pulsing desperately. You have never before felt so stupidly horny than you do right now. Quite frankly, he might be forcing you to go into impromptu heat if he keeps being like this.

“Just the tip, yeah? Just the tip”, he whispers as he puts his arm under your head so you have something comfortable to rest on. You practically melt into him, biting back tears. You are being held and it feels so good. So safe and warm.

He kisses your neck and cheek, whispering his words.

“Are you comfortable? Are you ready?”

“Yeah”, you sigh, pushing your hips back.

Jungkook slides his other hand between your bodies, using it to align his cock with your dripping entrance. Just the tip, he reminds himself, nothing more. Don’t be greedy, keep calm. This doesn’t mean anything.

“Last chance”, he says, wanting to stall time so he can calm down.

“I trust you.”

Jungkook bites back his moan, having to take a deep breath before he can act. You are messing him up without knowing. With a racing pulse, he applies pressure on your puffy cunt and slips inside.

You squeak, shaking against your will. You convulse around him, gasping repeatedly. He went in so easily, despite his size.

Jungkook growls, “fuck, holy fuck”, he gets out and bruises your hip as he grips it for support. It takes everything inside him not to push it all the way in. Jungkook genuinely has a hard time not to moan. You are so wet.

Judging from your tremors and the way you fight for air, it is just as difficult for you.

“Only a few more second”, he forces his voice to sound as normal as possible. He wants to fuck you, but knows that he shouldn’t.

“Mh-hm”, you squeak out, nodding your head. You want him to fuck you.

Jungkook closes his hand to a fist, growing his claws to dig them into his own palm. The pain keeps him from acting up. He wouldn’t be able to handle it otherwise.

Jungkook always hoped that he would marry you one day. There it is. It’s out there. Jungkook had feelings for you for decades. In his dreams, you marry him and he can spend the rest of his days spoiling you rotten. He would be your protector against any danger, your best friend to laugh with, your remedy for your heats and the lover you can be yourself with.

Being with you like this is everything he ever wished for. You are so soft and warm around him, your slick is so wet. He knows that, deeper inside, it would be so much more. You'd be so warm, so soft. Jungkook gulps down his desire for more, otherwise he would do things he would regret.

“I think it should be good”, he presses out. He can’t do it anymore. One more second and he would push in all the way. He can’t do this to you. You trust him and he can’t abuse this trust.

“Really?”

You turn your head, looking up at him in droopy devotion. Jungkook whimpers, instantly cradling your cheek. He furrows his brows, throbbing inside you. He fights the urge to kiss you, to rest his forehead against yours, to bury himself deep inside you.

“Please don’t look at me.”

“Jungkook.”

His name hasn’t rolled off your tongue ever since he left you at the playground. It almost brings tears to his eyes, forcing his arm around you tighter.

“I can’t do this”, he drops his forehead against yours “I think I remembered that I need to put in all of it. It’s not gonna work otherwise.”

He is lying, because he can’t accept the truth yet. That he is selfish and totally addicted to you.

“Please do.”

“No. No we shouldn’t be doing this”, he fights it still, shaking his head which makes his nose rub against yours.

“Please”, your words tickle his lips, “save me. Whatever it takes, save me.”

“Urgh”, he growls through gritted teeth.

“Please.”

Jungkook lifts his head. He wants to look into your eyes as he does it. He wants to see the utter bliss in your eyes as he turns your relationship status from ex childhood best friends to two adults reunited.

He rolls his hips, feeding your warmth his length inch by inch. Your brows furrow and lift, your lids flutter, your mouth falls open.

“A-ah”, you squeak out.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m all here”, he whispers. He closes his arm around you, cradling you in a gentle headlock.

You close your fingers around his lower arm, spilling tears from your eyes.

“Does it hurt?”

You shake your head.

“But?”

“So…filled out. So big.”

“I know. I’m big, but you’re taking me so well.”

You whimper. Jungkook feels so insanely protective over you right now.

“Yes, you are. Taking me so well”, he insists, brushing the back of his hand down your cheek.

Jungkook continues until he bottoms out. He shudders, choking down a whimper. You feel so good. He never ever felt like this before. It feels like coming home which is insane because he was never with you like this.

“___”, your name comes out of him against his will.

“Jungkook”, you answer him, clenching around him.

“Stay still, please.”

“Okay”, you whimper, looking at his lips.

The pull is magnetic. Jungkook draws closer with parted lips, you meet him with parted lips. Once you kiss, it will be over for you and him. There will be no coming back from this.

“No”, he croaks, putting his hand over your mouth. The headlock tightens like this, giving you such a sense of being protected that your walls clench against your will.

“We shouldn’t kiss. Never”, he rasps weakly, mouthing at his own hand right where your lips lie beneath. You close your eyes, trying to move your lips under his hand. It is starting to feel cruel to be denied his kiss. Especially when memories of your past come back to you.

You remember that it was a group of eight kids and you were doing “dares” to see who is the coolest. Taehyung was dared to prank call his mom and he actually did. He pretended to be a grown up insurance clerk and once he hung up, you really thought that he managed to prank his mom (he didn’t hide his phone number and had a childlike voice). Jimin, another friend, was dared to climb a tree. Which he did and he was sooo cool for it. They were silly, childish dares who did no harm but made you feel so cool. Then it came to you and you were dared to kiss Jungkook. Which you did. In a childlike, innocent way but which made you and him feel so grown up for a moment.

The memory is haunting you right now, making you want to redo it in a grown up, mature way. You open your eyes, meeting Jungkook’s gaze. Judging from the foggy desperation in them, he is haunted by the same memory.

“Please get out of my head”, he gets out.

You whimper his name behind his hand. Jungkook furrows his brows, grinding his teeth.

“No please. Stop it”, he croaks, squeezing his eyes shut.

You want to fight it as well, of course you do. You swore to hate him forever and now you want nothing else than his kiss. You want to fight it, but your hands move against your will. They rest themselves over Jungkook’s hand and try to dig between your face and his palm.

He growls, huffing out air. The only thing keeping your hips from joining the impossible fight is his hand on it. Shit, now he is concentrating on down below. Your puffy walls around him, so soft and warm. Being inside you, Jungkook swears he will never be cold again. Or maybe he will be, maybe he will never find warmth again once this stops, once he has to slip out and pretend that it meant nothing.

What will happen afterwards? He is so needy and he knows that you are too. What will happen? Are you going to lie next to each other, wet and needy and force your bodies to calm down? Or maybe he will need to excuse himself to outside, fuck his own fist as the loud thunder masks his desperate moans while inside the shed you most definitely would touch yourself as well?

Jungkook was so lost in his haunted thoughts that he realises too late that you managed to tug his hand away. Your lips brush his’.

Jungkook moans from the bottom of his heart, going in for more at first. He even rolls his hips into you. Like instinct. Like it is meant to happen.

“No”, he pushes you away, slips out, breaks the moment. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Not that far.”

You sob, shrinking into yourself.

“Please”, you whimper your words, staring at him with desperate, sad eyes. You lift your hips, begging him silently.

“I won’t be able to stop if I do it again. I can’t do this to you.”

“Please”, you beg.

“Do you even know what an alpha does when he fucks? I won’t be able to stop until I bred you. I-I’ll knot you and, and you won’t be able to get me out until I’m soft again.”

“I know.”

“This could take hours. You will feel out of control and vulnerable.”

“You said that you will protect me. That I-I’m safe with you.”

“___”, he chokes out and crawls to you. He picks you up in his strong arms, holding you against his chest. His heart is racing like crazy against your back. “Stop me. I beg you. I can’t pretend any longer that this means nothing to me. You have to stop this.”

You reach up and twist his hair, pulling him down to you.

“We shouldn’t-”

You silence him with a kiss.

Jungkook trembles, resting his weight against you as the kiss renders his body useless for a moment. You are kissing him. You stopped this stupid farce for you and him. You sealed your fates. Jungkook knows that it won’t be the same after tonight. He will never fucking give you up.

He breaks the kiss, but stay close.

“You shouldn’t have done this.”

“Please. More.”

“Are you even hearing me?” he hisses.

“Yes. Please, more.”

“Fuck, we really shouldn’t, but maybe I…I have to move it a few times? To really mark you?”

“Yes, sounds good, mark me please. I don’t wanna be sold.”

“I-I’ll do it just for that. To make sure.”

“Yes. Okay”, you sigh and melt into him, lifting your leg.

Jungkook slides his hand under it instantly.

“Let me do it. Relax.”

You let your muscles relax, allowing him to carry your leg’s weight. He does it so easily, tracing your hairline with his fingertips as he looks down at you. He moves his hips so his cock would slip between your folds, working you up to what was coming by grinding back and forth. He really drags out the movements, sending trembles through your legs each time his thick tip rubs your swollen clit.

He exhales shakily, whispering his thoughts.

“You’re so wet. I have never felt slick so warm and, and wet before.”

You look up at him with shy, nervous puppy eyes, making him want to protect you forever.

“Is it bad?”

“No, fuck no”, he puts his arm around your chest, pulling you up to him until he can rest his forehead against yours. “It’s perfect, baby.”

“Baby?”

“I…” he drops you, hips stilling in shock. He doesn’t know what to say. Anything he could say feels like too little of an apology.

You however increase the lethalness of your puppy eyes, reaching down to try and move his hips again.

“Please. More.”

“We’re only doing this to save you, right?” He asks, picking up a rhythm again. It is the same as before but way more arousing because he purposefully makes sure that his tip slips into you every now and then. He starts off with just a little poke, increasing the inches more and more. But it stays just the tip, for now, don’t be mistaken. If he slips inside it should happen accidentally. He likes to tell himself if it happens like this, it will mean that it wasn’t his fault.

“Yes, only to save me” you lull your words, getting droopier and droopier. Each time he has his tip inside you, it feels so good. Before he slips out and you feel sad, until of course he drags his cock over your clit instead.

You can’t do this for long anymore and Jungkook seems to share your feelings. The tip he buries in you starts to go way past your entrance and it seems to stay longer inside. His golden eyes never break contact, his fingers rub your arm as he holds you so close.

He slips into you again. So deep.

“Mhhhhm” he lets out in a rumble, furrowing his brows.

You whimper, lifting your brows.

Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. He won’t be able to escape like this.

Deeper.

He bottoms out.

You moan, eyelids fluttering and lips chasing his kiss.

He shakes his head, talking as he falls into the kiss.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this.”

You kiss and Jungkook’s cock doesn’t leave you again. It stays buried deep inside you, reshaping your walls as his hips move. Slowly for now, daring not to be too rough with you. Because being rough makes it real. Maybe if he keeps his movements tiny enough, it will still count as being nothing of importance.

Because that’s what this is, right? Something that doesn’t mean anything, something that won’t change who you and he are. This is what those needy, hungry tongue kisses mean, this is what the desperate touches mean, this is what the exchanging of warm slick means. Nothing. Because if those things meant something, it would force Jungkook to admit that he is doing This for himself. Of course he does it to save you, but if it meant something, he would have to admit that he is also doing this for himself.

But it doesn’t mean anything, right? Right?

You break the kiss for air, looking up at him submissively and droopy.

“It feels so good”, you whisper.

“Close your eyes, please.”

You obey and Jungkook has to come to the realisation that it makes no difference. This fucking means something. Holy fuck, he is done for.

“Maybe I have to make you cum?”

“What?” you ask, eyes still closed.

“I think I need to make you cum once. Then you’ll be marked.”

“Please do. I trust you.”

Trust. He thought that he would never earn it again and yet here he is. With your weakened, trembling body in his hold as you trust him to take good care of you.

“Mhhm shit”, he presses out, biting down on his own tongue to calm himself. Be tender with her, he thinks, you swore to be a gentle alpha so fucking get it together.

He moves you into another position, draping your leg over his hip so you wouldn’t have to use your muscles. You are so open and spread like this, allowing his big cock entrance. He slides his hand to your clit and takes it between his thumb and middle finger to massage it.

“A-ha”, you let out, arching your back and lifting your hips.

“Ssssh, relax. I’m here.”

“Please, deeper.”

Jungkook buries his cock deep inside you and stays there, circling his hips. He is so big and long that he stimulates both your g-spot and your cervix. He is so gentle that it doesn’t hurt. It just feels so good that your fangs grow against your will and you leak masses of new slick.

“Like this? Am I making it nice for you?”

“So nice”, you mewl, nodding your head vigorously.

Jungkook is gazing at you as it happens. He watches every change of expression on your face, fighting the urge to call you beautiful. Because that’s what you are. Beautiful. You would deserve to know but he is scared of the consequences. It would mean the fluttering of his heart is real.

“Is so nice”, you sigh, writhing happily. It breaks him.

“You’re beautiful”, he says, moaning softly when you tighten and arch your back. So you liked it. His cock throbs inside you, leaking into you needily. “Yeah that’s right, you’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Taking me so well, feeling so good on my cock.”

“Ah, aaaah”, your moans are so loud, your pussy so fucking wet and your clit so swollen.

Jungkook fucks you gently, massaging your spot of pleasure with his long, skilled fingers. He can feel your heartbeat in your back, as much as he can feel you rub against his nipples.

The blanket over your bodies is so hot, making you and him sweat wherever you are touching. He can’t deny it anymore that this is real, that this means something. This means fucking everything to him.

“You’re such a good omega, taking me so well.”

“You’re making me cum”, you croak, grasping his arm for support, “please, can I cum?”

“Yes, baby. You can. Cum for me.”

“Jungkook”, you gasp, ripping your eyes open to stare in shock as his gentle touches bring you over the edge.

Your eyes flicker golden, you moan silently with an open mouth.

“That’s it, cum for your alpha. Let me mark you, that’s it.”

He has a hard time saying these words to you. His thoughts are running wild. This is the face you make when you have an orgasm. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this to be a face he gets to see. And it’s so beautiful that he treads the moment your high stops and he has to pull out. He doesn’t want to pull out. He needs more of you. He needs you like fucking crazy.

“More please”, and then your beg releases him. You are down from your high, yet still so hungry for more. You feel so fulfilled with him that you don’t want this to stop.

“What?” he croaks.

“More please, more.”

“If I do this, I won’t stop until I cum too.”

“I know.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I have to cum inside you to mark you?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The pretend continues. The fucking charades that this is only to save you from your fate, that you and he aren’t doing this because it feels so good to both of you.

“Please Jungkook, fuck me properly.”

“Are you sure?” he almost squeaks the words because he has such a hard time controlling his urges.

“Yes. Please.”

“Holy fuck. ___ urgh.”

Your needy beg does the rest. His animalistic instincts take over.

Jungkook growls, grabbing you roughly to flip you onto your stomach and therefore pin you down. He straddles you from behind. His right hand slips to the back of your head, his left hand has a possessive grip on your hip. His legs cage in your legs, keeping them squeezed together as he drills his thick cock into your pussy. You are so tight like this, jerking him off in such a maddening way.

You scream up as you didn’t expect him to take on such a punishing pace instantly, but you aren’t complaining. It feels so good to take him. He fucks you so well. His cock is so filling, making you feel whole.

“I’m not holding back now. For you, just for you. Is this good for you? Do you like this?”, he growls through gritted fangs, shifting his eyes between your face and his cock.

“Yeaa”, you sob, clawing at the ground helplessly. You were aware that Jungkook has been an adult for years, but this is still changing how you see him. Whenever you thought of him, you saw that twelve year old boy calling you immature for playing. That boy is gone as if he never existed. Jungkook is a fucking adult and he is rewriting the image in your mind one heavy stroke at a time.

“You should have never seen me like this. Fuck, this shouldn’t happen”, Jungkook spits, high on your body. He is embarrassed by his actions, but can’t stop them. “But I can’t stop. Holy fuck, I need you so fucking bad.” He needs to fuck you. You are so small and weak right now, so goddamn vulnerable. Once so unclaimed until he took you.

You are his.

Jungkook growls, pinning you harder into the ground.

You are his.

You reach behind yourself because his hand on your head hurts. He grabs your wrist instantly, using it to pin your arm against your back. You wail up, kicking the ground as best as possible as you writhe in your imprisonment.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t see me like this. Not you. I’m sorry.”

He apologises, knowing that he won’t be able to stop until you are claimed. The thought makes him crazy. He is claiming you. The girl who was his first kiss, his best friend who always came to him when she needed help, the woman who counts on him to protect her from her fate and the wife he always hoped to have one day. And he is claiming her. He is marking her, making you his for anyone to smell.

Jungkook drills you harder. He pulls out all the way to his tip just to thrust into you sloppily. He does it over and over again, reminding your dripping pussy of his size with each possessive thrust.

And you take it with grateful sobs, existing only for him right now. You would never recover if he stopped right now. You need him to finish what he started even if it ruins you in the process.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this, fuck, this shouldn’t happen”, Jungkook gets out, gawking at where he buries himself in you.

Your slick is slowly taking on a milky colour from the intense friction. It sticks to his veiny shaft and his dark pubes, smearing all over your ass and his thighs as well.

If this shouldn’t happen, why does it feel so good? If this shouldn’t happen, why does it look so hot? If this shouldn’t happen, why does he not want to stop?

Jungkook scrunches his face in anger. He lets go of your arm so he can grip your hips with both hands. He pulls them up until you are kneeling. Your face is still buried in the ground, your back is arched.

You shake and convulse instantly, sobbing in embarrassment because the open position of your legs forces your slick to run out of you.

“Holy fuck”, he gets out, staring at it with blown out pupils, “holy fuck, ___.”

“I’m sorry, please don’t judge me”, you beg, trying so hard to keep it inside with clenches around his cock.

“Never. Holy fuck, I could never.”

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. Relax, baby. Don’t fight it”, he says, knowing that you and he shouldn’t be doing this.

You obey instinctively. You relax around him, releasing the slick you so desperately wanted to hide from him. It begins squirting out of you messily and audibly, marking him yours.

“Yes”, he growls and begins pulling your hips onto his cock possessively, thrusting into you at the same time. He does it with one hand because the other he slips between your legs to pinch your clit. Gently of course, keeping her between two fingers to massage her in circular motions.

“Let me help you.”

You wail and shake, releasing more and more of your pretty slick. It runs down your thighs, covers his legs, smears all over your ass and his stomach.

“Relax, that’s it. My pretty omega shouldn’t keep it inside. It’s not good for you.”

“Jungkook, I can’t do this”, you sob.

“I know. We can’t do this, we never should have.”

“No”, you wail, “no. I have to cum again.”

“Whenever you want to. Your alpha’s right here, baby.”

“Jungkook!” you scream, breaking apart as if you never orgasmed before. It feels so good.

“Holy fuck baby, ah!” Jungkook yelps, hips stuttering in shock, “you feel so good, what the fuck ah! Ah! I can’t control myself. Baby!”

Jungkook growls and lays himself over you. He holds you up with one hand around you, biting down on your shoulder as his body breaks. You sob from the pain of the bite, loving every second of it.

And then it hits you.

His seed.

His thick, hot seed.

It shoots out of him with such strength that you feel punched in the gut. The effect is instant. You lose control over yourself. Quite literally, you lose control. You can still talk, using it to scream his name as you orgasm in a way you have never experienced before.

The first one was intense but familiar. This right now? You didn’t even know that your body could feel this way. It is truly, seriously, religious. It is as if you finally found your purpose in life. And in a sense you did. You found your alpha. He finally claimed you properly. You are his’. You aren’t unclaimed anymore. Nobody ever educated on this, so you have no idea that these religious, soul fulfilling feelings mean that you changed forever, but you don’t mind right now. You are just riding on these feelings, screaming his name and milking him dry.

Jungkook whimpers. He truly, honestly whimpers from the bottom of his heart, collapsing on top of you. He knocks you into the ground like that, burying you under his weight but he couldn’t stop it from happening.

He never experienced this feeling either. He had sex with people, but it never felt like This before. He orgasmed in them but it never felt like this. It feels as if his seed finally has purpose. That’s how it feels. Like his efforts and all the rutting he is doing has fucking purpose.

And then it happens. Something that he was only told could happen to him, finally happens to him. His knot swells. He actually fucking grows a knot and has to writhe on top of you, burying his nose deep in your hair as he sobs your name.

You sob as well, insides suddenly feeling like bursting. His knot is so big and thick that it should feel like an intruder but it doesn’t. It feels like the best drug ever. You didn’t even know that you could stretch this far. The amount of stimulation it gives you as it rubs against your walls is otherworldly, making you chase one orgasm after the other.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. Ah! ___!” Jungkook yelps, having to orgasm again as your tight walls stimulate his knot. The amount of sensitivity he feels on it is insane.

His hands slide together with yours, holding them tightly as he pins them into the ground. His tears fall into your hair, your own tears soak the blanket.

“I can’t stop”, you get out, shaking in fear, “I can’t stop cumming!”

“Me neither.”

“I’m scared. I’m so scared”, you sob, riding on the unfamiliar, scary sensations.

“Don’t be scared, I’m here. I’m here”, he talks you through it, shaking beyond saving.

You aren’t even moving much. There are no thrusts, no sloppy wiggles. Just and you and him, actually stuck together because of his knot while he pumps one cumshot after the other into you. There is no movement and yet it feels better than the most passionate rutting session you each had. No movement and yet you are fulfilled beyond comparison. Is this how it feels to find your mate? Is this what it is?

Did “we shouldn’t be doing this” turn into the finding of your other half? Was “we shouldn’t be doing this” fate’s way of protecting you from what will happen once you gave in? Or was there ever a “we shouldn’t be doing this” strong enough that could have prevented you from doing this?

Whatever it might be, it is too late to think about the what ifs now. The reality is that you and he can’t stop climaxing, lost in the most addicting and intense pleasure you and he ever found yourselves in. It is never ending. When he climaxes, you have to too which sets him off again, triggering your need to as well. It is a vicious, never ending, orgasmic cycle.

“This feels so good”, he croaks out, writhing on top of you, “does it feel-”

“Yes! Yes! Oh god please Kook not again. Kook!”

“Kook”, Jungkook repeats the nickname in a whimper, curling his toes as another orgasm hits him as well. He never thought to hear this name from you again. He can’t handle it any other way than filling you with more of him.

There is so much of him inside you by now, having no way to escape because of his knot that your body reacts in the only way it knows how to survive. It opens up for his seed to go deeper. It trickles into the deepest parts of your sex organs, warming you from the inside out. It is like he is alive inside you, feeding you with the strongest drug you ever took. You think that you black out for a moment. You are still aware of what is happening to you, but it is hidden behind a thick layer of blurriness.

“Eh”, you let out, falling into the darkness gladly. It feels so good to do. There is something because you are aware of your orgasm, but there is also nothing. It is as if you are standing next to your body, watching it shake and tremble as he makes a home inside you.

And then there is nothing. Truly nothing. No more orgasmic pleasure, no more watching yourself. Just darkness.

“___? Hey, ___? Holy fuck, what’s wrong with you? ___, open your eyes please”, Jungkook’s distraught voice comes closer and closer, his hand on your face becomes clearer and clearer, “please ___, open your eyes, please. Oh god, what have I done? I should never have done this. I- Oh god ___ please, I’m sorry. Wake up, please.”

He shakes your head gently. It brings you back to reality. Your body regains the ability to feel.

“Jungkook”, you whimper, opening your eyes. You writhe instantly, throbbing around his knot happily.

“___ hey. Holy fuck, thank god. Hey”, he says, dropping his forehead against your temple and kissing the side of your face desperately, “I’m so glad that you’re back. I thought that I killed you.”

“No, just made me black out.”

“Why? Does it hurt? Are you in lots of pain?”

“No, just haven’t felt so good before. Ever. Kook, I”, you suddenly have to whimper your words, “I feel your cum inside my uterus. It’s so warm and alive and….right.”

“It is?” He whimpers as well, feeling weakened in emotion.

You nod your head. Jungkook sobs quietly, using the hold he has on your hand to guide your arm under your body and against your chest. Like this, he rolls your bodies to their sides, instantly cradling you against his chest while his trembling lips kiss any part of you that he can reach.

Your face, your neck, your shoulder, your arm, your back and the bite mark he left, your face again. Over and over he kisses each inch of you, whispering your name every now and then as if he is trying to make sure that he remembers who made him feel like this. As if he is trying to make his brain memorise who it was who made him experience his first knot.

He is still swollen, keeping everything inside you safely. It is still so intense, but suddenly it feels more emotionally intense than physically. Enough time must have passed for the fire to reduce the logs by lot. And all of a sudden you and he don’t feel the uncontrollable need to orgasm anymore. You still want to be close, moving your hips in emotionally needy wiggles in hopes of keeping his knot alive for as long as possible, but it is not to chase another orgasm. You want this to last because it feels so safe.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t want this to end”, Jungkook confesses, holding you protectively.

“Me neither. I feel so safe like this.”

“Holy fuck, ___. What did we do?” he presses out, kissing your cheek over and over again.

“I don’t know.”

“I never knotted before. I never felt like this. Holy fuck, ___.”

“What is gonna happen to us now?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t let you go again. Ever. I don’t wanna fucking share you. Never. I’m trying so hard not to tell you that you’re mine ‘cause I promised you that this would never happen again.”

“Please don’t.”

“What?”

You turn your head, leaning deeper into his embrace. Like this, you feel his racing heart against your shoulder and you are entirely protected in his arms. His knotted cock throbs inside you as your eyes meet. The same playful, gentle boy of the past looks back at you, except that his once boyish features are mature and aged up. A gentle, adoring man stares back at you and you can’t seem to find your way out of his galaxy eyes.

“Please don’t promise me that this won’t happen again.” You cradle his cheek. “Don’t hold back on telling me that I’m yours.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re high from my cum, these aren’t your real feelings.”

“Why shouldn’t they be?”

“___, we-”

You put your thumb on his lips.

“We shouldn’t have done this, I know. You kept telling me as we kept doing this.”

Jungkook gives up in a sigh, having to chuckle afterwards. You giggle, cupping his cheek again.

“Just the tip. That’s what we agreed on. Just the tip”, he says.

You clench around his knot, touching your bloated stomach. You instantly guide his hand to it, wanting him to feel what he did to you. He purrs deeply, biting down on his lower lip. You grin goofily.

“Just the tip indeed.”

He laughs softly. You snicker and stub his nose with your own.

“This is the messiest and deepest tip I have ever given”, he jokes, making you laugh.

“Oh god, this was funny.”

“Mhm, I’m pretty funny”, he says and nuzzles his nose into your neck to tickle you gently.

You squeak and giggle, feeling happy beyond comparison. Jungkook ends his loving attack with kisses to your ear.

You sigh, melting into the affection. You and he lace fingers, using the position to melt closer.

Your droopy eyes stare into the flames while Jungkook relaxes you with soft kisses all over your neck, shoulder and back.

The thunderstorm stopped outside. It is already a little brighter. Fuck, so you were really trapped in this orgasmic state for a few hours. It felt as if so little time passed as it was happening.

“What is gonna happen now?” you whisper.

“Now? We’re gonna cuddle and I’ll be kissing you until you’re asleep.”

“I mean after that. Do we have to show Urquard that I’m claimed?”

“I guess. I haven’t thought that far into the future yet. But yes, he will probably want proof that you’re marked.”

“I’m scared. Do I have to get naked in front of him? And his pack? Will he put something in me to get a scent?”

“He can try if he wants to die.” Jungkook pulls you closer possessively. “You’re under my protection now. Okay? You won’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with and I’ll hunt down anyone who dares to overstep your boundaries. Even Urquard and his pack.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I promise you.”

You close your eyes, spilling tears.

“Thank you.”

You never thought it possible to have your dreams fulfilled by Jungkook and yet here you are. You are being held and comforted by Jungkook and it feels like home.

“Don’t thank me. You’re mine. My darling ___ to keep safe. You have my body to protect you and my heart to find a home in.”

There is deep rooted honesty in his words, but you are suddenly too sleepy to ask him what he meant by them. There will still be another time. This wasn’t just a one time thing after all.

2K notes · View notes

cavillscurls · 30 days ago

Text

wherever you stray, i’ll follow

alpha!joel miller x omega f!reader

Joel resents the choice to allow an unmated omega into Jackson—until he’s the only one who can help her feel at home.

warnings/tags: MDNI. Jackson era. Joel’s POV. Alternate universe: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. Implied Soulmates. Alpha!Joel. Omega!Reader. SoftDom!Joel. Sub!Reader. Enemies-ish to lovers. Grumpy x Sunshine. Joel is emotionally constipated. Unspecified age gap. Stereotypical gender roles. Fluff. Angst. Self-flagellation. Poor coping & communication skills. Explicit smut. Dub-con elements due to the nature of heats, but everything is explicitly consented to. Size kink/size difference—Joel is huge in this, like 6’5, thick, broad, and burly. Reader has pubic hair. Pet names. Dirty talk. Scenting/scent marking. Man-handling. Fingering. Squirting. Drinking bodily fluids. Oral (f receiving). Multiple orgasms, somewhat uncontrolled. Unprotected PIV. Tummy buldge. Knotting. Breeding kink. Pregnancy implications. Adult Alpha!Ellie, Beta!Tommy, & Alpha!Maria make an appearance. Ambiguous-ish ending. wc: 10.7k

➻ a/n: this fic has been a long time coming & means so, so much to me. this won’t be for everyone, & that’s ok. i pictures game!joel for majority of this, but he is left to your imagination as always. thank you to @kiwisbell for beta reading and supporting me during the writing process. any feedback is so appreciated enjoy. x

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Tommy Miller had always been the foolish brother, but even Joel found his particular lack of cautiousness that night out of the ordinary.

There were three members. What was left of a pack, likely separated or raided. They had entered the walls of Jackson that fateful evening—the walls Joel and his brother happened to be manning—dirty and famished, overly emotional and outwardly grateful for the sanctuary. The first two, an elderly woman and a teenage boy, betas. He could tell just by the way they walked, the monotonous way they carried themselves, crossing the threshold of their haven with Maria at the helm of the herd.

“The boy’ll be a good addition to routes, whenever he’s old enough,” Tommy had remarked. Ever the optimist, too keen on seeing the good in people to even acknowledge the risk that was posed every time another body came through those gates.

And a risk it was.

Joel Miller had experienced a fair share of fear in his life. Real, unadulterated fear, enough to bring a grown man to his knees despite his efforts to rise above it. A fear contrived by something entirely out of his control, forces working against the walls he’d built around himself, the rough exterior that fought, and bled, and killed, and protected. But the fear he felt that ghastly night remained unlike any other. It was entirely from within, something deeply embedded in himself. Fear, once harnessed as a means of survival, reduced to a shackle, left entirely at its disposal. It rose from his toes into his head where his ears rang and his face burned.

Time stalled. His senses were numb to everything but this walking force of nature that, at first glance, was an indiscernible canvas of shivering limbs. But as it drew closer, the details were impossible to avoid. The shape of lips and sad eyes. The foreboding sound of a beating heart. Oxygen was no longer a necessity of survival, but vanilla and lilac and something so distinctly, uniquely sweet became the vice in his lungs.

And it happened so fast, the way fear turned to panic and panic into anger—angry that he had no control or say over how the thing inside of him responded to the thing emerging before him. Powerless. He watched at a standstill as each body lining the wall stiffened upon your entrance. Even his brother, whose composure hardly faltered, could be heard inhaling a sharp breath of disbelief.

Omega.

She isn’t stopping. Why isn’t she stopping?

Joel’s eyes shot toward Maria, her indomitable gaze remaining forward on the parting doors. He had to fight the sudden urge to jump the gate over how seemingly unfazed she looked. His sister-in-law was a lot of things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. How could she be so foolish?

A question left unspoken, unanswered, because his body was not his own. The sound of pounding rattled in his chest, blaring in his ears. A flame ignited. A switch flipped. The world as he knew it became mute to the battling voice that rang inside his head.

Why isn’t she stopping? What is she doing here? It’s not real. There’s no more. There’s not supposed to be any more. It’s cold. It’s too cold, she’s not wearing a proper jacket. Where’s her jacket? She can’t be here. She’s not allowed to be here. How could she survive this long? Alone? She’s alone. No Alpha. Alone—

He vaguely recalled the sound of his brother shouting his name; a growl settled low in his chest and the heels of his hands pressed against his temples as he tore himself away from the perimeter and stormed through town.

He needed to get away. Put as much distance between him and that thing that poked and prodded at what was to remain untouched. That stirred him, that set him quick to anger as those of his kind were notorious for. What he worked hard to not be.

He wasn’t sure how long he paced. How many glasses of whiskey he downed, or the number of curses he threw at his walls, but later that evening, when he had subdued himself to some sort of composure, Joel sought after his brother and his wife, making it a point to address the issue head-on. He burst through their door without knocking:

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?”

“Joel—!” snapped the younger Miller, bouncing to his feet from the couch where he sat beside Maria, already engaged in conversation over what Joel could assume was the reckless decision at hand.

“It’s fine, Tommy,” Maria interjected, extending a cautionary hand toward her husband. Her focused eyes took a once over of the fuming man in front of her. “Joel, I’m not turning away perfectly capable people. They pose no threat to us; we’ll find each of them a place here.”

People. Them. Joel knew his sister-in-law wasn’t so naive as to think he was distressed over a couple of betas. The patronizing calm of her voice stirred him on, and he flashed his teeth at her when he spoke, low and gritty. A fight for dominance.

“She’s an omega. Unmated.”

“And we’ll be sure to make accommodations for that.” Maria nodded slowly, carefully. She was all too familiar with the taming of beasts.

Joel shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “There are twelve goddamn unmated alphas in these walls, Maria.”

“Yeah, you included,” she clipped, and that shut him up good. “And with the way things are progressing, soon enough, Ellie.”

That made him nauseous.

Ever since her eighteenth birthday, she had been showing all the tell-tale signs of an emerging alpha. Joel knew—despite his unpreparedness and objections to the thing called nature—there was nothing he could do to stop it. The only other option was to prepare. And up until that point, Joel had thought his adopted daughter's presentation was the worst of his worries.

He wasn’t prepared to reevaluate his own self-control.

He hadn’t dealt with a rut since Boston; it was only the start of FEDRA’s reign, before the suppressants had been sufficiently pumped into the population, and fiery instinct was reduced to a dull nuisance. And while his access to the aid was now nonexistent, he still hadn’t considered it possible anymore before you showed up. Upon his and Ellie's arrival, the measly two other omegas in his vicinity had already inhabited Jackson. Both mated.

Joel assumed the next time he encountered the type, it would be when one in the community presented. And by that point, he hoped he’d be far too old for the monster inside his head to have any more biological control.

The solution had been to set you up in the cottage furthest from the center of town. It was a decent little space that had been used for storage until late, having cleared the fireplace last fall for ample central heating and restoring some of the rotten infrastructure. As deliriously naive as he saw it, the belief appeared to be that the distance of your dwelling from the rest of Jackson would prevent any complications if they arose. When they did. Joel couldn’t decipher what genius course of action his sister-in-law had for when the time came, but his protests were silenced by the majority. And by morning, you had claimed your corner of sanctuary.

That was six months ago.

And while the winds of winter kept the newcomers isolated with adjustment, the summer's heat brings livelihood—and much more of you.

Your voice, your laughter, your scent. It permeates Jackson’s walls like a disease, saturating Joel’s life despite his efforts to avoid your very existence.

You contribute your share at the daycare, of all places, often seen with a young pup clinging to your neck. Sometimes, the little ones chase after you in the center of town—running towards you with excited, grubby hands and beaming smiles. You always grace them with an embrace. It’s in your nature, the ability to comfort, to nurture.

You’re gentle. Kind. Considerate. A smile brighter than a thousand stars. Perfection didn’t appear to have a name until the universe made you, and there is no denying the intrinsic effect you have on those around you.

Because the rest of the town fucking adores you.

There is no escaping you. As hard as he tries, you linger at every turn, in every breath of the wind that creeps down his back and stands the hair up on his skin. Most are in awe, admiring the creature that glides before them, whose presence adds to balance the very nature they all endure. A missing piece of a puzzle, something delightful and pure.

Rare.

Not diamonds, or rubies, or gold can compare. But in tandem comes those who feed on things that shine, and he knows that some—a very specific some—leer with less adoration and increased selfishness. Some who believe they are owed for the mark you bear, whose pride and lust drive their ambition, whose power is unmatched in the face of something so helpless.

He’s aware, by the principle of semantics, that he falls into this greedy some. Though he could not identify further from it. And while the monster may heave and thrash within the dwindling confines of his chest, lured to all that is so rare, Joel had decided the moment you walked through those gates he would have none of it. He would not reduce himself to the thing he worked tirelessly to tame, nor would he entertain the force of nature that drove someone like you to something like him.

You’re aware of his distaste for you. That much is obvious in how you blatantly evade him in town, skirting around when you are forced to share the vicinity, a terrified thing, so easily spooked.

Once, a few months prior, he had been asked to repair some of the leaky ceiling panels in the schoolhouse. Unbeknownst to him—and you, he assumed, judging by the way your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull at the sight of him and how the honeyed stench of the room turned sour—they were all located in the daycare room.

What followed could only be described as two hours of slow, burning torture. He tried his very best to stay on task, he really did. But he was hindered by the discernible discomfort you exhibited and all it did to the thing inside of him. You tripped over your words to the fellow attendants in the room, couldn’t seem to locate anything you were looking for, and at one point, had to excuse yourself for what turned into a twenty-minute-long disappearance. And where he stood, high up on the ladder, trying to balance his body and his mind, Joel hated how worried your absence made him. He couldn’t see you, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t smell you for those agonizing twenty minutes, and that anger he felt the first day he laid eyes on you returned. Because he was not a man that gave up control.

And you, for whatever reason, wielded a great deal of it over him.

The first day of summer promises a bonfire. Dusk, in the open plain beyond the stables, the laughter of children and the strum of music are bringing the community to life. These are cherished moments amongst the whole of Jackson, and Joel isn’t the kind of man to be so self-absorbed that he can’t understand why. He had, up until six months ago, once enjoyed the camaraderie. It was the first time in decades he felt a semblance of impulse to let go. No more running, fighting, grieving.

He can hardly remember that feeling now. In its place returns caution, unpredictability. Six months and the work of years lost. He feels insane—the lurking monster that haunts his own shadow. And as hard as he tries to shake it, he fails every time. The feeling is embedded, brought to life by its complimentary fragment that, much to his dismay, walks the very same walls. Lurks in the same shadows.

He used to feel stable, steady. Not any longer.

Your hair is tied half up today, out of your eyes—he’s watching you. Not watching, observing. This is the trade-off, the compromise to keep the beast satiated. Always from afar, and never with the intent of action, he observes you and all you are. It’s a part of his routine, studying the way you move, the way you exist in this space you’re both forced to inhabit. Constantly drawn to one another, even in distance, even without trying. Magnetic.

Frustrating.

You’re smiling at something. And then laughter, like the sweetest song rattles his eardrums. You sit on a blanket across the mountainous flames, your legs tucked under you, beside two other girls he couldn’t care to remember the names of. Briefly, he wonders what it is that you find so amusing.

A misfortune at the hand of another?

No, he cannot imagine you to be so cruel.

An anecdote from the daycare?

Seems far more likely. The type to find joy in what you do, in all that is around you.

He’s envious of this, maybe. The effortless way of being attracted to what is deemed good. He tries to remember a time when he knew another person like that; all that ever follows are brief memories full of sorrow. The hazy outline of something, someone, so perfect in a way no one should be. He always dismisses the thought. He would never know what it means to be that way, after all.

“Nice night.”

He damn near jumps out of his boots. Tommy’s sudden materialization beside him diminishes any spirals of imagination, a blessing in disguise.

Still, Joel is bothered by the disturbance. His little haven of borderline-stalker tendencies crushed under his brother's obnoxious foot. He merely grunts in response.

“Glad we finally got this event together,” Tommy continues nonetheless, a hand on his hip, sipping his beer bottle and glancing similarly across the flames. Joel’s eyes have already left you, his arms folding taut across his chest while he casts his gaze anywhere else, if only for the sake of avoiding his brother's inevitable chastising. “Good to get the kids out… good to get everyone out, really. Nice chance to mingle.”

Subtle. Real subtle.

“Out with it, Tommy.” He doesn’t feel like playing this game tonight. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the sake of appeasing his brother, or rather, his brother's wife. “Whatever it is you wanna say to me… out with it.”

Tommy shrugs. “Nothin’ to come out with, Joel. Just that y’all have been here two years already and still seems like you have a tough time with these things.”

He doesn’t miss the chosen emphasis. And it’s true, to an extent. While precarious in her initial adjustment, Ellie has been far more social than he. He talks to people. He just doesn’t trust them. Not those outside his immediate circle. And why should he? Joel does his work. He lends a hand to the community where he can. He’s polite. Punctual. Reliable. But he’s still living in the end of the fucking world, a world he has seen more brutality and injustice in than he ever would have cared to. So what if he doesn’t want to roast marshmallows and sing campfire songs?

“What is it that you want from me, Tommy? I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Don’t want nothin’ from you, brother,” Tommy says with a shake of his head, and Joel still can’t pinpoint just when his little brother finally grew the fuck up. Twenty years of lost time will do that to a person. “Just wanna be sure you’re livin’ this second chance to the fullest.”

A second chance.

He can pinpoint a time where he would have killed for one of those.

And perhaps he did just that, and the real fault lies in being unable to embrace the outcome. Or maybe, the misery he lives in is the price he pays for the choices that led him here. Second chance shrouded in self-loathing.

His brother persists: “Take advantage of how lucky ya are to be here, how lucky we all are to be here, to have…options.”

Has he ever been good at weighing those? Twenty years ago, he would have had a different answer. Twenty years ago, he wouldn’t have known the debilitating options of life or death. This isn’t the first time Tommy has presented the topic of conversation, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. He wonders when he’ll find a response that appeases him, if ever.

“Just try to enjoy yourself a little tonight, alright?”

He doesn’t answer. He lacks the discipline to say something of substance. Instead, he turns his head forward and strains his arms against his chest, silent and brooding, until his brother sighs, pats him on the shoulder, and slips away.

This is enjoyable enough; left to his own devices, keen to observe the joy around him, a silent hope that some of it may permeate, keep an eye on—

He’d been too preoccupied with Tommy’s noise to notice you’d disappeared from his line of sight. His brows furrow and he scans the perimeter of the bonfire. Your friends have moved to the beverage stand, but the spot you had occupied beside them is vacant.

He cocks his head left, then right, scanning for signs; the cadence of your voice, the shape of you, your scent. And he’s frustrated. Because how could he let you vanish so fast? Where? Why?

It’s something instinctive that compels him to act at the first sign of trouble. It’s the faintest thing, a subtle waft in the wind he’s certain no one would catch unless they were searching for it. Sour and burnt, his nose wrinkles.

He does a one-eighty and panic seizes his chest.

Your silhouette may be foreign to the common eye, but he’s learned it well. It tramples and scrambles through the foliage, distressed; a good two, three hundred yards away from the crowd and headed in the direction of your dwelling.

He’s honed in. A nerve fires inside his chest. His heart ticks to a beat that suffocates his eardrums, and there’s a churning in his gut that threatens to yank him forward.

He turns back toward the flames, only once, before his footsteps fall in stride with you.

He wonders just how long he’s been blind. How many days had passed since the tell-tale signs began to emerge. When you knew, if you knew, or if this very moment, here and now, is the one mother nature decided to take you by the hand and guide you down the imminent path.

Joel always watches you. Observes. How could he have let this slip under his radar?

He’s imagined this exact scenario numerous times before. Though in his head, havoc rained, blood was shed, and carnage laid bare across the whole of town. A wreckage for all to witness, to acknowledge the barbarous creatures that walk amongst them. Twelve starved, selfish alphas seeking a single, undeserved prize.

In theory, his expectations aren’t all that far-fetched. In a time before, they may have been a reality. When there was no order. When creatures with perceived power could take and take, and others would be remiss to challenge them.

But here, in the haven he occupies, those expectations are mere theatrics.

Here, the air is frighteningly quiet, save for the joyous voices in the distance, the whistle of the breeze. He’s aware of the sound of his boots crunching against the ground, how the weight of them seems to melt into the earth with each daunting step. They follow after lighter, fluttering tip-toes; a scared, scampering thing on the run from all that could harm her. Alone.

Vulnerable.

The closer he follows, the clearer your labored huffs reach his ears. The aroma in the air loses its earthy notes and adopts the sweetness you shed. A trail of seeds yet to sprout, bathed in moonlight, beckoning him closer. A single lantern is left lit on the cottage steps, a beacon. You clamber up them two at a time, and in tandem, his careless foot snaps a twig beneath his boot.

Your head whips around, sharp eyes pinning daggers to his chest.

“I ain’t here to hurt you.”

He puts his hands up in careful defense, leaving the vast space of the porch steps between you. Your chest is heaving and your temples are already damp. Your eyes have glossed over, a crazed look, and he knows the fever has taken the reins.

But there is no urge to pounce. No incessant need to satisfy a selfish craving. It’s there, it lives, but it does not drive him the way he always suspected it would. It’s evicted from the home of fears that feed on his consciousness, and in its place, emerges something just as innate. As plain and clear as all other parts of him he once tried to diminish.

“What do you need?” he asks softly, carefully. Unprotected prey are easily spooked.

Your eyes dart every which way, searching for the complimentary predators. They glisten with tears under the porch lights, sweat reflecting off your forehead the more you lose yourself, and he knows that you’re afraid. He can feel it.

“Omega,” Joel commands, and your wide eyes snap right back to him. Drawn to him and all that he is. If his instincts weren’t so hellbent on curbing your fears, he would’ve scolded himself for abusing such a power. “What do you need?” he repeats, a bit more pointedly.

He watches the way your throat constricts when you swallow, brows twitching together in study of him. Searching for some ulterior motive, no doubt, but the trepidation is brief. Your nostrils flare in deep inhalation, and he wonders what remedy he must exude to ease you so effortlessly.

You trust him.

A terrifyingly naive mistake.

And yet, there is no denying the way his chest swells with pride and how the monster inside of him roars to life.

“Keep the rest of them away,” you say finally, and it’s all he needs to hear. The rest is second nature.

He nods dutifully, lingering at the bottom of the steps. He waits until you blink the haze out of your darkening eyes, giving him a final once over, and scramble the door open and shut, before he climbs to the top of the steps. He turns his back to the door, his arms crossed over his chest like they had been while he watched you through the fire, his eyes forward—focused. An unmatched mode of protection activates. He hears the deadbolt lock, and he’s grateful for your diligence. Though he knows it’s useless. Every alpha in a ten-mile radius would smell you within minutes.

And that smell.

It’s only now that he notices its potency. It grows and swells the longer you’re hidden inside; waves of vanilla and citrus that are almost too sweet. They burn his nose. Coat the back of his throat in thick tar, making it impossible for him to swallow without a taste of you.

The beast grows, a second skin now. It occupies him further as each moment passes by. His fingers twitch, his own brow dampens, and an unrelenting ache settles low in his stomach.

He gruffs out a breath, shaking his head rapidly. He needs to keep it together. He needs to move.

He’s stalking the perimeter in a craze, eyes and ears on high alert. He leaves his mark behind wherever he can, brushing up against trees, allowing the dense pheromones that seep out of his skin to pollute the air. It isn’t foolproof, but it’s enough to dampen the sweet nectar radiating off your walls, at least for a time.

He starts to panic when he finally hears the first little moan slip through the walls. A soft, restless thing, and the ache in his gut flourishes, threatening to send him to his knees. He seeks purchase on the rail of the porch, having made his way back to the door. He squeezes his eyes shut. This cannot be happening.

Clarity becomes overshadowed by instinct, and the ache expands into his chest, his fingertips, his toes. It’s been years, and the onset is no less overwhelming. He’ll do what he can to prolong it, ensure that he is of his right mind when the height of the fever takes you. He can’t imagine what he’ll do, otherwise.

But his patience is tested. The soft scratch beyond the front door makes sure of it.

His ears perk up and his nostrils flare. He can make out a faint creak, weight shifting. Palms to the panes, a body pressing against the wood. Warmth seeps through the cracks.

“Joel?”

There you are.

His body carries him up the steps–he doesn’t have to think about moving. His muscles and joints, his very soul seem to be linked to your command. He stands with his toes pressed to the bottom of the door, and it’s getting harder to breathe. Harder to discern what’s right in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m here.”

Your breath wavers, a sigh of relief. He zeros in on what he can make of you through the barrier, the last shred of sanity.

“I’m sorry,” you finally croak, and his eyes shoot open, brows laced in confusion.

“You have nothin’ to be apologizing for–”

“No, I do,” you press, and the words come with great difficulty. Heavy and strained, as if it is critical you say them now.

Perhaps it is. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re not entirely yourself. Before he won't be able to get a coherent answer out of you, when every action you take relies solely on relief.

He’ll take the opportunity to listen to what you have to say while you still can. You seem to realize it too as your words start to pour out, staggered and rushed:

“I know I’ve done something… something to upset you for all this time, and—and I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’m sorry, and I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it, Joel. I promise. Just please—”

“Stop that.”

He can't even begin to believe what he’s hearing. Can’t possibly fathom the damage he’s caused, all he’s insinuated with his behavior, his choices.

Him. He is to blame.

Yet, you’re the one near tears. You’re the one who begs for forgiveness, where no plea nor apologies need be. You’ve convinced yourself, or rather, he’s indoctrinated you into believing you are the one to blame.

That you are the monster.

And oh, does it make his blood boil with well-acquainted self-loathing.

“You don’t—you haven’t—”

Now he’s the one sputtering. Where does one find the words to right infinite wrongs?

You’ve reached an impasse, and this is surely the desperation speaking. He’ll have to be the level headed one, steer you in the right direction. A chance to redeem himself, as great a feat it’s proving to be. He musters up the courage, sets his pride aside.

“You ain’t done nothin’ wrong, you hear me?” His lips are near pressed against the wood, seething through them, desperate for you to latch on to each painful word. “You needa know that, all right? You… you ain’t the one to blame here.”

The admission is ash on his tongue. Speaking it aloud, bringing it to life. His ears strain for any sign of you, fallen silent. Something inside possesses the urge to break clean through the wood.

“Help me.”

Forgiveness. Guilt welded to his chest now shattered and set free by the capabilities of kindness. You hardly know one another, and yet, there is mutual understanding. An agreement that surpasses time, bonded to what you’re made of.

“Alpha,” you call, and Joel has to brace himself against the frame to keep from falling. His chest beams, his belly stirs, and the sting of desire plagues him. “Please.”

He had read about the process once, long before. Disorientation. Excruciating aches that make it nearly impossible to stand upright. A tingling sensation so intense, that it replicates that of burning on the skin.

Pain.

You’re in pain, and he knows he can stop it.

And soon enough knowing turns to needing, and he can feel a fraction of the pain you’re enduring. It’s enough to shatter his resolve.

A heavy hand rests on the doorknob. A beat. And then, as if on cue, he hears the deafening sound of the deadbolt unlatching.

He hesitates, opportunity served on a golden platter. Sifts through the repercussions of what could follow. But when the door opens and shuts again, he’s on the other side of it. The lock latches, this time, under his own hand.

You’ve shuffled your way back from the door. Standing, though by the looks of it, with great difficulty. You’re no longer in your pretty summer dress, but a t-shirt large enough to swallow you and little shorts so short he can smell right through them.

Even from a distance, his height climbs above you in the way only predators leverage prey. But he knows you’re unafraid. He can sense your fascination with him just by observing you; it’s as plain as the air he breathes, something intrinsic and right as hard as he’s worked to deem it wrong. It’s in the way that you stiffen, your body having no other choice than to respond to him. Wide eyes appraise every inch of him, and you trouble your bottom lip with your teeth in a spot he would very well like to taste.

The aroma is suffocating; it seeps into his pores and wraps its eager hands around his throat. He won’t be able to rid himself of you for days, even if he tries.

He’s grown pompous, it seems. For the thought of those he passes enduring a whiff of you on his skin stirs his cock in his jeans. The idea that awakens him, the prospect of becoming his.

“I’m scared,” you hiccup, and he suddenly remembers he has greater things to tend to.

He has a million questions, torn between action and rationale.

When was the last time this happened? Do you have enough supplies prepared? How long is it expected to last?

But none of that matters right now. She matters. And she needs you.

“I know, baby.” He’s terrified, and the words spill out. “But you’re gonna get through it, ya hear me?” He takes another step closer. “We’re gonna get through it.”

And there is a glimmer in your eyes, that of hope, and he knows that he is powerless in this battle he’s fought against himself for so long. He’s only prolonging the inevitable.

“You’ll help me?” It's all pleas and hope and teetering near the symphony of begging, but he can’t hear you beg. He can’t bear the sound nor the implication, as he’s certain it will ruin him. But: “Please,” you whimper, plucking his kryptonite out of thin air and wielding it against him. And it’s only then that he notices the way your thighs tremble together, desperately searching for some sort of friction. “It hurts.”

And he loses, loses the fight. He is lost to you. He always has been.

“Turn around,” he beckons, and you obey him because you’re good. You’ll be so good for him.

Because you know exactly what she needs.

The floorboards creek beneath his feet, and when he reaches you, fingers drag the bulk of your hair over one shoulder. He watches the muscles flex below his touch, the way your hands ball into tight fists at your sides. He’s hit with the overwhelming scent of your exposed gland, and his mouth waters.

Focus, the thing inside him chastises. You’ll have plenty of time to taste.

He takes a final step, flushing the front of his chest with your backside. Greedy hands latch on to your waist, followed by the slump of your body into him. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your lips part in a sigh—a pretty little sound, though he’s determined to alleviate the burden it stems from.

He reaches for one of your fists, taking you by the wrist. Your fingers unfurl upon his touch, and he uses it as an opportunity to fold his own overtop your knuckles. He guides your joint hands, settling them low over your belly.

“Show me,” he murmurs, dipping his head to the crook of your neck. His lips dance over the skin, and your legs begin to tremble. He keeps the hand at your hip firm, an anchor. “Show me where it hurts.”

Your breath catches and your eyelids flutter, half-open. Your fingers squeeze around his, and without hesitation, he squeezes back. He’s here. He’s got you. He won't let you go.

And with that reassurance, hands descend, following your lead. You claw away the t-shirt hem, idling above the waistband of your shorts before sinking underneath. A low growl rumbles in his chest at his findings, muffled into your hair. You comb his fingers through soft curls, the flesh below hot and throbbing. Together, you cup the little seam of your cunt, and Joel has to fight the urge to fall to his knees, pry you open here and now.

You’re dripping. Warm slick pools in his hand, sticky against your thighs. He feels a pulse of it spill out of you when his fingertips prod at your hole, your back arching off his chest, another devastating gasp of air choking you.

He’s already dizzy, high on the fumes of you. He shuts his eyes when his vision begins to blur. And he’s hard. So achingly stiff against your back, if he thinks about it for too long, he's sure to lose control. You’ll send him into a full blown rut, he’s certain of it. Likely, you already have, teetering at the edge. And as these minutes tick, the less time he has to prepare you. To warm you up and slather you in pleasure before brute nature runs its course.

“Joel,” you whine. His eyes flash back open, pupils doubled in size.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He releases you, but only after giving a handful of your ass a terse squeeze. You squeal, nearly leaping out of his touch. You flash him your eyes only once before tiptoeing forward, and he’s hot on your heels, stalking after you. Patience drowned deep, mangled by desire.

Your room is to be expected, cozy and warm, entirely you. Under any other circumstance, he’d have more appreciation for the homemade candles and delicate tapestries, the various posters displaying your interests and the native plants you’ve taken the care to pot and house.

But he’s immediately drawn to your mattress, the piles of pillows and blankets strewn about in a fashion only you are to understand. You’ve been busy since you left him on the porch.

You stop a few feet shy of the bed, glancing over your shoulder at him, uncertain. There’s a shift in your aura, suddenly grown timid. There’s a guilty sort of gleam in your eyes, but he recognizes it for what it really is—shame. That you cannot control your erratic breathing, or the heat that creeps over your brow. That your body faces the impulse of preparation for something beyond your control, and now, you’re forced to lay it bare for him to witness.

He holds no judgment, only empathy. There is beauty in this vulnerability, and for the first time, he understands the gravity of your trust in him. Something in the shape of fulfillment blooms.

“Here?” he asks, nudging his chin toward the heap.

You nod once, and he shrugs the flannel off his shoulders. An offering, and you accept it wordlessly, eagerly. You eye it in your hands, then him, back again, hesitant. You’re shy now that he’s indulged you.

That’s alright. She just needs you to take your time with her.

Finally, you slowly bring the wad of it up to your nose and inhale. Your eyes droop shut, lashes kissing the apples of your cheeks, and his chest beams with pride at the notable fall of your shoulders. Tension evades you, replaced with the comfort of his scent. His.

“Go on,” he instructs gently, once he has your eyes again. He wishes he could peer inside your head, decipher the wary thoughts that live so plainly on your face.

Nonetheless, you shuffle your way to the mattress, carefully crawling on top of it. It’s painfully adorable, the way you gnaw at your bottom lip and analyze the space, his flannel still clutched in your fist.

He also recalls reading about this, how it’s imperative that your space be designed to your exact liking. The assistance of a trusted alpha’s scent is a surefire way to heighten comfort.

So when you drape his flannel over the pillow you lay your head upon at night, and tuck it in tight around the edges, he’s overcome with a mighty wave of emotion. He is strengthened, his affliction no longer a weakness, but a gift. A means of sustaining your well-being. He almost feels unworthy. Almost. But when you sit up on your knees at the edge and give him those expectant eyes, he imagines what it would be like to rid the town of the eleven other hungry beasts who could have ended up outside your door. So that they may never get a breath of you.

That they may never touch what’s his.

He approaches with caution—slowly, toeing off his boots in the process, fighting every urge to pounce. Droplets begin to roll down your temples, and he thinks you’re the most beautiful like this; wild eyes, a little frenzied. Awaiting some treat like a starved puppy who's already forgotten how to chew, how to swallow. He will remedy this. He’ll feed you, satiate you.

You’re an antsy little thing now, nearly bouncing up and down, toes curling and uncurling beneath you. And as soon as his shins meet the bed frame, you’re rising on your knees, nearly his height now. You study one another and the heat between you, the uneven breath and the palpable compulsion to touch. His brows rise on his forehead, surprise, when you reach out first. Shaky, dainty hands coming to rest upon his shoulders that glow under your willing gesture.

He can’t help himself; his hands splay over your ribcage, curving around your lungs, and yanking your chest against his. You yelp out, but the tiny grin that follows on your lips and the way you wind your arms around his neck flash a million green lights. He can hardly keep up, and he realizes now he’s the one panting; his fingers bruise into your skin, and his tongue seems to swell three sizes with need, starvation.

And he hesitates, because if he proceeds, he’ll finally know the sensation of kissing you. He’ll have a taste of you. He’ll understand what it means to have your body pressed against his, and how the scent of him will change, saturated by pieces of you.

But it’s you and your willingness to be so kind, so undeniably what you are, that breaks him from the mold he’s cast. You scratch him gently just below his ear to get his attention, and his worried eyes find yours—a pure contradiction, only certainty and peace to be found.

It’s alright. She’s ready for you.

This voice is different, warped. A mixture of two. He’s not sure if he hears it from him, or you.

He doesn’t care.

His lean into the kiss is measured, but it’s not long before it descends into madness. You’re wound and fiery against him, clawing at the nape of his neck, baring tongue and teeth. He’s willing, eager to keep up, bending you at the small of the back and crowding over you. Licking you open and shoving his tongue between your lips, until the sharp sounds of saliva echo through the room and his palate is coated in sweetness.

He loses himself a bit, winding a hand up your back until it’s latching around tendrils of hair and pulling taut. You gasp, arching into him, and he growls at the opportunity of more of you, to taste all of you.

His lips clamber down your throat, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. You’re mumbling something, indescribable under the mask of your flourishing heat, but the pliancy of your body is all he needs to make way for instinct.

When he reaches the base, the tip of his nose traces your clavicle, sniffing like a mad dog. He continues up the curve of your neck until he finds the rough little patch behind your ear. Here, he inhales deep, audibly; your scent is most potent here and it clouds his judgment. His tongue juts out from his lips, salivating, searing across the gland and sealing his invasion with a gentle kiss, and oh, you like that. He hears the strangled sound that rips through your throat, feels your sharp nails dig deeper into his skin and the weight of your body shuddering against him.

He yanks at the hem of your t-shirt. “Arms up.”

You heed his command, and he pulls the fabric over you, tossing it into oblivion.

He’s got you on your back, sprawled amongst the nest of your things and his, in no time. He sinks to his knees, huffing at the stiffness of them. He bullies himself between your shaking thighs and drags his paws across your torso. He cups both of your tits in an unforgiving grasp, heaving himself forward and suctioning his lips around one. You howl and pant, pain and pleasure, weaving fingers through his locks of hair and tugging just as hard as he sucks. He switches to the other, leaving welts behind, memories of his ardor.

He wants them to linger. Knowing that he can’t mark you—won’t, not while you’re like this—in the way he longs to. A greedy act of ownership he hopes will ward off the others until he can map out this newfound territory.

Your thighs suffocate his hips, radiating warmth. He feels the little gyrations of your hips, seeking friction, and he can’t find it in himself to deny you any longer. He licks a trail down your sternum, the tangy taste of fever, peppering kisses over your belly. His fingers curl over the waistband of your shorts, taking two fistfuls, and he rips them in two. Joel doesn’t think you’ve even noticed the destruction, already pawing needy hands across his shoulders to guide him where you need him most.

Your legs part instantly, willingly, and his mouth drops open at the sight. He’s suddenly reminded of his own struggle, his cock seeming to swell another size in his jeans at the sight of your bare, swollen cunt. Creamy liquid coats your wet skin, pearly clit swollen and wanting. He rests a cheek upon your inner thigh, latches his hands around the outer to keep you steady, and admires. Lets his eyes fall shut and leans in, burying his nose in the soft curls on your mound. He inhales long and groans; the earthy musk, the inviting sweetness.

“God, look at this pretty fuckin’ hole.” He starts blathering aloud, but you smolder under his praise. Bucking your hips and grabbing at all the bits of him you can find. “This all for me, Omega?”

Yes, yes, yes, you pant, speaking with your body and your mouth, nodding so frantically. He enjoys the way your cunt flutters around nothing, each little pulse oozing another drop of sweet slick, coaxing him in.

He wets his lips, takes another whiff of you. He’s certain he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t taste you, so he does. Flattens his tongue against your impatient pussy, and watches as you all but combust when he suckles up the nectar seeping out, all for him.

It’s more heavenly, more euphoric than he could’ve imagined. The stain of you against his tongue, ambrosia, a remedy for all ailments. He laps into you, dehydrated and desperate for every drop, smearing his tongue all over your cunt, your mound, your thighs. A feast for the taking.

You wail above him when his lips latch onto your clit, and heavy hands force your thighs back against the mattress—he needs you spread, and still. Needs you to understand the severity of this famine he’s experienced for so long; maybe, as long as he’s existed. You yank at his hair and your heels dig into his back, pushing and pulling all at once, and when he finally comes up for air, he’s feeding you his fingers. Catches your eyes and the way they grow when he sinks two, thick digits inside of you, groaning at the squeeze of your plush walls, ripe and ready for him.

“Gonna open you up for me, darlin’,” he rasps, lips and cheeks and chin gleaming with you. You hastily prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a view of the way he learns you. Moonlight glows across sheen skin, angelic.

“B-but Joel—” you whine, but he silences you with a thrust of his fingers, curving them up, up, up, and beaming when your legs jerk and your eyes roll back. He taps his fingertips against the spongy little spot he’s discovered.

“Hush, now,” he bites, but his taunting fingers promise a better outcome than his tone. Your head has already fallen back into the pillows, hands mindlessly grabbing and twisting the sheets around you. “M’gonna open you up, get you nice and ready to take me.” He starts his steady pace then, gradually pulling his fingers back and rocking them forward, maintaining the hook, searching for the sweet little spot that makes you cry out every time he bumps it. “You’re gonna be patient, let me make it all better, yeah?”

“Yes, Alpha. Yes, yes.”

He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy this descent into submission. How the further you slip away from him, the further he is from himself. Two parts of a whole lost to what nature made them, somehow, finding one another to latch onto.

He leans into it. Embraces it. He needs to make this last. Take advantage of all that it is, fearing it may be the first and only time he’ll be lucky enough to have it.

A heavy hand, his free one, presses against your lower belly. He can feel the drag of his fingers inside of you, just below his palm, sending his blood to a boil. Sweat graces his own brow; these are shared symptoms, that of your fever and his rut. Cosmic, burning from the inside out, like stars. Everything he is, created for you.

He can feel the wave, the buildup of pressure in your gut that makes his own ache. Feels the wet tip of his cock in his jeans when you start to pant his name, when a flimsy hand reaches for the flannel you tucked away so neatly, and yanks it toward your face. Smothering yourself with it, shoving your nose to his scent.

“Alpha—nghh!”

“C’mon, baby. C’mon,” he chants; a mantra. Presses harder onto your burning belly, extends his thumb to circle over your throbbing clit in time with his flexing wrist.

Your body seizes, soft, full breasts rising and falling as you desperately gulp the air. Your poor legs tremble so hard, you can’t keep them upright anymore without his help, so they drape over his shoulders. Squeeze them tight, claws nearly drawing blood against his scalp, and your pussy sucks him into the knuckle. Grips on like a vice before the wave crashes, and you’re gushing around his fingers. Crying out ecstasy, soaking his chin, his chest, your limp legs.

“Fuuuck,” he’s growling, in awe of the little spurts of cum that keep flowing out of you with each measured jingle of his digits. He wants to see how much he can drain you before he removes them, how much pretty, perfect, omega slick you’ll make for him, every drop an homage to your yearning for what he’s preparing to give you. The thing that swells, and aches, and burns at the base of his cock, and he can’t help but rub it up against the side of the mattress, desperately seeking some of his own relief.

You’ve lost yourself entirely now, he knows this. The orgasm he’s granted you sets your full heat into motion, and you’ll require more. Can sense it in the haze of your eyes, the delirious babbling of his name mingled with Alpha, Alpha, please. Tears coating your cheeks, an emptiness in the pit of you only he can fill.

But one taste isn’t enough, and he’s greedy. Greedy, greedy alpha of a man, who needs more. Can’t help it as he watches the liquid pour from around his fingers, so he unsheathes them, quickly replacing them with his open mouth again to drink the goodness right out of you. A fountain of excellence he’s certain he’ll never tire of.

He must be lost in this, the incessant need to quench his thirst, for some time. Because you start to whine and thrash below him, strings of pleas and sorrow alike. Pulling at his t-shirt, trying to tear it from him at this awkward angle. Telling him over and over that it hurts, Alpha, it hurts—and that just won’t do.

He quickly replaces your wandering fingers, tugging his shirt up and off of him and retreating to his feet to battle with his belt buckle. You jolt up at this, suddenly alert, perching at the edge of the mattress, wet hair sticking to your face, eyes taking a curious path down bare skin.

There’s a momentary wave of self-consciousness; he can’t remember the last time a woman saw him naked, let alone after the safety and comfort that Jackson provided.

He’s aged. Gained a few pounds in his belly, muscles bulky and lined with fat instead of the lean mass they once were. But then, you place your palms on his chest. Flutter your eyes up at him as you glide your hands slowly over his torso, and make sure he’s watching when you lean forward and press a chaste kiss to his sternum. His eyes go dark, his insecurity silenced.

“Wanna taste it, Alpha,” you demand, voice breaking at the edges. Sounding simultaneously foreign and never more like yourself. Shaky fingers reach down, cupping him through his boxers, making his dick jump, and he sucks the air through his teeth. “Can I taste it, please?”

He grins down at you, because yeah, you’re good. So good. So polite. Just like he knew you would be. Good, kind, generous little omega, too much so for her own good. You rake at his bare chest, start to palm him slowly, batting dangerous eyes up at him. So tempting. He reaches down, takes your chin between his fingers, and pets your bottom lip with his thumb. Hoping to soothe away disappointment. Because as much as he wants to be selfish, he needs to be inside of you.

“No time for that now, sweet baby. Not this time. Wanna give it to you somewhere else.” He drops his hand, splaying his fingers low over your abdomen. “Right in here, huh? Isn’t that what you want?”

Oh, yes. Yes, it is. You nod up at him, frantic, mouth hung open and drool spilling out the sides. Ravenous thing you are, just as hungry as he.

“C’mere. Let me help you.”

He’s got you by the hips, lowering you properly back against the pillows. He shuffles out of his boxers, and you watch him, dazed; your fingers in your mouth, chewing on them. Knees up to your chest, thighs rubbing back and forth, slipping so easily with all the pretty slick he’s pulled out of you.

Vulnerable little creature you are, you welcome him into your nest. Pull your fingers out from your teeth and extend them towards him, and spread your legs for him to settle his mass between. And when he does, there’s a shared sounding of pleasure. He sits back on his heels, guiding the weight of his heavy cock over your cunt, and fuck, if you aren’t just perfect like this.

Your body burns, a fire he must extinguish. He leans forward, exasperating you a bit when he drapes his weight over you, caging you in with elbows on either side of your head. His knees still cradle your ass, and he uses the mounted leverage to grind his cock against you. He huffs, his knot blazing, painful and stiff, and his gut is on fire. You’re so warm, so wet, and he slips so easily between you. He can’t help but growl out when you begin to meet his thirst with needy rocks of your own.

Your eyes droop shut, hands seeking purchase on his shoulders, and he uses his to cradle each side of your scalp. He presses his forehead to yours, captures your parted lips in a searing kiss.

“You’re gonna give me another one,” he mumbles, drawing back from you, reaching for his stiff cock and gripping it tight. His eyes drop to where you’re nearly connected, so close. You glisten along his shaft, and he uses it to rub the angry tip of him back and forth over your folds, parted petals that threaten to suck him in each time he catches on the opening. He taps it on your tender clit; you quiver and clench, wailing out frustration.

“N-no please—please,” you beg, eyes brimming with tears again. You slide your hands underneath his arms, digging your nails under his shoulder blades. “Please put it inside me, Alpha. Please, please.”

“You can do it, baby.”

“I can’t, please. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

And you do. You chase the high vigorously. The jerks of your hips follow him, taking great precision in the way he slides his shaft up and down your swollen little seam, paying special attention to your clit. He can feel the way it jumps and throbs, all the juices flowing out of you dowsing over him, dripping down onto his knot.

He can’t look away, an obscenely beautiful sight. And the next time you quiver, clench around nothing, and call out his name, he just can’t help himself.

He slips inside of you with one, tenacious thrust. Met with no resistance, only warmth and fullness. Your entire body goes rigid, eyes bulged and lips hung open in surprise, before relaxing entirely. You melt into him, the fury of your need thawing with his gift, and you sigh a beautiful sound of reprieve. Vanilla melds with leather, interwoven, and he knows he’s ruined you for any others.

And he. He’s sweating, and panting, and the shudder won’t leave his spine. He’s never felt anything quite like it, the flutter of a fertile omega’s cunt around his cock. He was dreaming before, and now he’s awake. Startled by all that is perfectly right.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.” He rolls his hips once, the tip of him bruising your cervix, and you sigh his name. “Promised I’d make it all better, yeah?”

You use the leverage of his shoulders to crane your neck up, pressing your forehead to his. Your thighs straddle his ribcage, clinging to him, needy little pet that you are.

“S-so full, Alpha. It’s so big.”

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos. “But look.” He parts with a fleeting kiss to your chin, sitting back on his heels and dropping his gaze to where you’re connected. A thick ring of cream sits above his knot, and it pulses at the sight. “Look how well she’s taking me.”

You shakily bring yourself to your elbows, peering with drunken eyes and O-shaped lips. Your brows knit at the center of your forehead, and the precious, fucked-out look you cast up is enough to send him into motion.

He grunts, wrapping his hands around your hips and yanking your bum up and onto his thighs. His pace is slow but deep, focused on kissing your womb with every thrust. Now that he’s inside of you, he can focus on nothing but the result. How imperative it’s become that he fills you. Satiate the ache by pumping you with his seed. He bares his teeth, images of his spend dripping out of you flashing before his eyes. He needs it. Chases it with fury, a conquest. But he won’t let it go to waste. No, he needs to knot you. Be certain that every drop of it touches your womb. How it would feel to have you latched to him, the prospect of its ramifications—a swollen belly, a piece of you carrying a part of him—sounding nothing but appealing.

“JoelJoelJoel.” You’re repeating his name like a prayer, looking at him with such devotion.

He’s picked up his pace, instinctive. Hard enough now that your flimsy mattress springs squeak, and the headboard thumps against the wall. You’ve fallen back into your pillows, your hands coming up to knead and pull at your breasts, and fuck, if it doesn’t gratify him to see you lean into the pleasure.

He knows you're close when the tears at your waterline begin to stream down your cheeks. He scoots you further up his thighs, places a heavy hand back on your belly, and sure enough, on his next thrust, he can feel the bulbous tip of his cock through the skin. He grits his teeth, and he knows you must feel it too because you gasp as if he’s committed some sort of crime, shock and disbelief.

“Feel you—haa—in-in my stomach, Alpha.”

“That’s right, baby,” he grunts. “In your fuckin’ guts. Just where you needed me.”

His thumb drops to your clit, circles it with the rhythm of his thrusts, and makes you sing. There isn’t, and he’s sure there never will be, anything like the way you feverishly clench around him. Actively trying to suck him in, the steady flow of tears and cum, your incoherent babbles, beyond your control. He needs you closer, he needs to saturate you with every part of him.

He rolls onto his back, scooping you into his chest and dragging you along with him. Gets you good and propped on his bent legs before he drives up into you. You collapse onto his chest, desperate hands clinging to his pecs. You burrow your nose into his neck, and he nearly bursts at the seams when you tease your teeth across his beating gland.

“One more,” he seethes, bouncing you up and down with a great force; you needn’t even help him. He takes palm-fulls of your ass, secures the reins. Your hips will bruise by morning, but he doesn’t care. It’s worth the desperation in the way you cling to him, call to him. “Give me one more, Omega, and I promise I’ll give you what you need.”

You wail out, half protest, half pledge, and you’re actively clamping down on him. Working your tight cunt over his shaft, milking him closer and close to the shining edge, and he feels his belly begin to boil. His head pounds and his gland aches, and as soon as you release again, unable to curb yourself from the pleasure he vows, the voice worms its way back into his ear. Chanting now, now, now.

He spills into you with a mighty roar, stuffing his knot up inside of you as soon as it expands. He digs his teeth into your shoulder, pushes your hips further, and further down, nowhere else to go, but he has to be sure he’s filled you tight. That he can keep you here, locked onto him for as long as it takes to eradicate the delirium, as many times as you need him to fill your fertile little womb.

And you come again, all from just this. Tight, soft, and bruised, you clamp around his knot as if you’re worried you’ll lose it. And he squeezes his eyes shut at the overstimulation, bites on his tongue to curb the pain, and lets it flourish in glorious pleasure. His cock releases another string of cum, and Joel groans.

You’re hardly lucid on his chest, trembling, breathing heavily. One of your hands wraps around his sticky shoulder, clutching into his skin, trying to steady yourself. He works carefully to soothe you, to nurture the heavy come down, and avoid a dangerous drop. He scoots himself up the mattress, taking you with him until you’re both comfortably propped against the headboard; there’s no telling how long you’ll be united like this, but he has no intention of rushing it. He drags his large palms over the length of your spine, litters kisses along your hairline, and you both share a whining sound each time he stiffens and spurts inside of you. He allows his eyes to shut, focusing on steadying his breath, the sound of your beating heart.

Eventually, your body settles. You start to breathe evenly again, grow limp, purring little sounds of contentment. He lifts a hand to push away the hair that sticks to your cheeks, and you reach for it, latching your bony fingers around his wrist. You nuzzle your nose into his palm and wrap your lips around two of his fingers. He lets you suck on them like this for a while, humming, the salty taste of him seeming to quiet your nervous system and ease you back into a state of equilibrium.

There will be consequences for what’s transpired here. The post-euphoric clarity lays his transgressions bare and forces him to examine them. He feels, quite regrettably, the return of war. That between himself and his nature, though here and now, they are far more intertwined than they’ve ever been.

He has a decision to make, one that months, days, hours ago seemed so clear. That he will not give way for the monstrosity he harbors, if only to save you from a lifetime of horror and regret.

But the hours, minutes, seconds have passed, and they dwindle to this moment where he realizes, almost jarringly, how wrong he may have been. That the great fight against what nature bestowed him retreats within your stronghold. The worry is silenced, the weight lifted, the burden removed. He isn’t a soldier, but a man.

Only a man. So simple, and so freeing.

“Stay with me?” you mumble as if you can read his mind, letting his fingers slip from your lips, and already drifting to a place somewhere deep between sleep and wake. It’s a single question worth a million, holding the weight of your existence, the entire world.

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows that if he stays, no amount of self-control will prevent him from indulging your needs over and over again. He knows how brittle his distaste is—was, a façade—and how quickly he will devote himself to you.

You’re all he would require to live and breathe.

Most terrifying, he knows the primal urge will only continue to spread. And for some purpose far beyond him, while he’s coated in your scent and slick and the haven of your arms, he won’t be able to find a reason to stop himself from sinking his teeth into that sweet spot upon your neck.

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, your kindness, you. You’re a chance at redemption, something he is certain he relinquished decades ago. You’re an opportunity, an outlet to release his grief, his anger, his hatred for this world and his place in it, and turn it into devotion, protection.

He doesn’t deserve it.

But the way you look at him now, head nuzzled against his chest, pupil-blown eyes the picture of vulnerability, it satisfies the beast. Sets every nerve ending on fire. Tugs him forward frighteningly taut, unable to recoil.

You look at him like you need him.

And he needs to be needed. It’s all he’s ever wanted.

“Alright,” he whispers. “I’ll stay.”

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plutotheplum · 2 months ago

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leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you’ve decided to get intimate for the first time with your boyfriend, and who better to ask for advice than his best friend?

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, kissing, oral sex, vaginal fingering, masturbation, p in v, possessive sex, praise kink, cheating/infidelity

wc: 4.4k

a/n: i don't support cheating at all, this idea just would not leave me so erm... i just had to write it

also on ao3!

You might be a little in over your head.

Sure, the entire thing had been your idea, but now that you’re standing outside of Leon’s apartment, duffle bag clutched in hand, you think you might’ve made the wrong decision.

But… you did really like your boyfriend.

It was why you were doing all of this after all. You wanted the first time with your new boyfriend to be perfect, especially after your last relationship had practically turned out to be a disaster. The sex hadn’t been enjoyable and the heated conversations between you and your ex even more so.

So, who better to ask for advice than your boyfriend’s best friend?

Eyes squeezing shut, you mutter a few words of self-encouragement. The doorbell looks oddly ominous when you open your eyes again.

You weren’t even sure why Leon had agreed to this entire thing. He’d always just been there, barely acknowledging your presence at all. All in all, you were convinced Leon hated you. It didn’t matter though, you didn’t particularly like the man either. Leon was just an unfortunate addition to things you had to endure.

An irritated huff of air leaves you and your hand jerks out, your own body having grown tired of your indecisiveness. The doorbell rings promptly and you shift on your feet, biting your lip nervously.

When the door creaks open, you have half the mind to run away. Leon’s gaze keeps you pinned in place however, his bored eyes dipping over you, brows raising slightly when he sees the duffle bag you were holding.

“You were serious about this, huh?” Leon asks, crossing his arms over his chest, peering down at you.

“Uh- well,” you begin, tongue feeling heavy, “I- I can just leave,” you laugh awkwardly, “you’re probably busy and I don’t want to bother you and-”

“Stop rambling,” he interrupts, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice, “just get inside.”

You’re grateful for his timely intervention, nodding rapidly and stepping inside. Taking off your shoes, you place them by the door neatly, not wanting to annoy Leon even more. He motions with his fingers and you follow him in, letting him guide you into his bedroom.

“What’s the bag for?”

“Oh, I packed a couple of outfits,” you shrug, watching as he sits down on his chair, “thought you might be able to tell me which one would work the best.”

Leon stares at you blankly, his lips pursing.

“You’re fucking weird.”

A sharp scoff leaves you, your eyes narrowing as you glare at the man in front of you. “You agreed to help me!”

“I didn’t think you were being serious,” Leon retorts.

You glare at him a little more and he lets out an exasperated sigh, motioning for you to sit down on the edge of his bed. You do as he says, although your movements are begrudging, feeling miffed.

“So?” He asks, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, “what do you want to know?”

“Se- sex stuff,” you reply casually, although your posture betrays you. It’s difficult to feel comfortable around Leon, his gaze uncomfortably intense and probing. You don’t think you’ve ever sat with your back this straight for so long before.

“Watching porn would’ve solved that problem for you,” Leon says drily.

“You’re a real asshole, Leon.”

He rolls his eyes at your jab, slouching a little further in his chair, thighs spreading as he gets comfortable. Leon’s fingers tap against the arm-rest, seemingly lost in thought. You couldn’t feel anymore awkward, agitatedly playing with your fingers in your lap.

“Can’t you just tell me what he likes?” you blurt out, growing desperate, “you guys talk about that stuff, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Leon says, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Just do what feels natural. Sex isn’t supposed to be something you spend weeks worrying about.”

It’s surprisingly solid advice…but Leon could’ve told you all of this over text. You cross your arms over your chest, pouting slightly.

“But what if he doesn’t like it?” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Then he’ll tell you,” he says, hands clasping together. Leon gives you another once-over, tilting his head. “Go get changed, let’s see those outfits.”

You nod, tugging your bag into his bathroom and pull on your first outfit. It’s a pretty dress, flowy and a little short, but you’d figured it’d be a good pick.

“What do you think?”

Leon’s eyes flick up to meet yours, silently evaluating the dress. His brows furrow for a moment, something imperceptible passing through his eyes before he shakes his head. A sigh escapes you, but you disappear back into his bathroom obediently to pull on your next outfit.

Leon doesn’t like that one. He doesn’t like the one after either. Your patience is running thin by the time you’ve changed into your fourth outfit, a nice top and skirt. You tuck your hair behind your ears, staring at yourself in the mirror. You look cute, at least from your perspective. You don’t understand what he finds so unappealing about your sense of style. Leon’s eyes barely drift over you before he’s shaking his head again.

“Pass,” Leon drawls, looking bored out of his mind as he slouches in his chair. Irritation festers inside of you, teeth gritting together as Leon simply ignores you, scrolling through his phone.

“This is cute!” you protest, looking down at the outfit you put together, “I look cute!”

“If that makes you feel better, then keep telling yourself that,” he replies, not sparing you a second glance.

“You’re the worst!” you snap, stomping back into the bathroom.

Your temper gets the best of you when you scrutinize your irritated reflection, cheeks flushed with anger, the stress of being here with Leon bubbling past your own breaking point. You tug your top off, along with your bra, bathroom door slamming open as you move to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“How about now, asshole?”

Leon’s eyes widen when he sees your bare chest, surprise making his grip on his phone falter, the device falling towards the carpeted floor as he stares at your tits. His jaw seems to go slack, a sharp breath of air getting sucked in as he stares for a bit longer. You glare at him, chest rising and falling, watching as his gaze dips over the curve of your waist.

“They’re just tits,” he says nonchalantly.

Leon’s expressions betray his true emotions, however. You catch the bob of his throat as he swallows, the subtle clench of his jaw as he stares at your tits. Your eyes dip down between his thighs and a small smile spreads across your face when you spot the bulge forming in his shorts.

“Do you like ‘em?” you ask, tilting your head.

“What?” Leon sputters, his cheeks flushing lightly.

“Do you like ‘em?” you repeat, taking a step closer, “my tits, Leon.”

He swallows again, trying and failing to look away from your tits. “They’re fine,” he manages out after a moment, “normal, or whatever.”

That makes a frown pull at your lips. Your head tips down, taking in your own breasts. They weren’t anything special, but you thought they looked nice, at least. Embarrassment has your skin crawling, cheeks heating up when you realize how stupidly you’ve been acting.

You move to turn on your heel, but Leon stops you, his hand curling around your wrist. He tugs you forward, your feet stumbling slightly as he pulls you until you're standing between his spread legs.

“Maybe I should feel them,” Leon offers, peering up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, “might- might help me judge a bit better.”

Surprise flits across your face, heat shooting through your body. You really shouldn’t let him do this, you shouldn’t even have your tits out in the first place but when Leon’s hand lands on your waist, all rational thought seems to leave you.

“Okay,” you whisper, “you can touch.”

Both of Leon’s hands are on your waist now, sliding upwards. You bite your lip to stifle a whine, back arching to push your chest into his touch when his thumbs brush the underside of your breasts.

Leon lets out a low hum, stroking his thumb over the same place again, staring intently at your hardened nipples. His fingers reach for them, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger as he tugs lightly before letting go, watching as your breasts move at the sensation.

“Gonna let me taste ‘em too?,” he asks, pinching your nipples again before rubbing his thumbs over your areolas.

“T- taste?” you echo, feeling your breath catch in your throat when Leon leans forward, his touch growing greedier as he grasps at your tits, squeezing the fat roughly. Your legs shake slightly, little twitches running up through your body and Leon notices, pulling you closer, his hands on the backs of your thighs as he helps you climb up onto his lap.

You can feel how hard he is when your cunt presses up against his clothed cock, a low whine slipping out of you at the feeling. Leon grins, squeezing your breasts a few more times, seemingly taken with tugging your nipples and watching your breasts bounce back into place.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “just let me put my mouth on you, hm?”

A single nod leaves you and Leon takes it as permission to kiss the space between your breasts. He’s surprisingly gentle with you, peppering soft kisses around your breast and over your nipples. Leon’s tongue lolls out before long, a groan emanating from him as he pulls you flush against him, his hips bucking up into your clothed cunt.

You gasp, fingers settling in his hair, pulling his head closer. Leon’s mouth opens wider, sucking your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking across your nipple harshly as he silently urges your hips to move against him. You do as he wants, grinding against his lap, mewling when he sinks his teeth into the fat of your tit. He switches his attention to your other tit, sucking it into his mouth, pressing his hand into your back to make your chest jut out so that he can get more of you into his mouth.

“Do oh- do you like my tits now, Leon?” you ask breathily.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, yeah,” he mumbles out drunkenly, “love your tits, baby.”

A light flush covers your cheeks when Leon pulls away, both of your chests rising and falling. He stares up at you, perched on his lap prettily, his hands squeezing at your waist soothingly. Your hazy eyes dip down to his lips, fingers tightening into his shirt as you imagine his lips on yours.

That would make everything all the more real however, so you refrain, simply peering down at him. Leon can see the uncertainty that makes you squirm, the flash of guilt that seems to dim down the spark in your eyes. He doesn’t exactly like the situation either, what the two of you are doing, but when your lower lip juts out into a cute, little pout, Leon wonders what might’ve been if he’d gotten to you first.

“We should stop,” he says after a while, fingers tapping the sides of your thighs.

“Yeah,” you murmur, humiliation flitting across your face, “we should.”

Leon helps you get off his lap, smoothing his hand over the ruffles in your skirt. It’s a weirdly considerate action and too out of place for him. You disappear into the bathroom, pulling your top back on. Leon waits for you, his eyes dipping to the bulge in his shorts. It’s uncomfortable, his half-hard cock straining against the fabric of his boxers.

A heavy sigh leaves him, his hand reaching down to adjust himself before you come out.

“Thank you for letting me come over,” you mumble as he walks you over to his door.

“Don’t mention it,” Leon murmurs, his voice low.

Don’t mention it. You know deep down you won’t be mentioning anything to your boyfriend.

You go to open the door, but before you can, Leon’s stepping up behind you, his chest pressing into your back as he cages you in against the door. A soft whine spills out of you when he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing into the crook of your neck.

“You’re making things difficult,” he says, voice muffled with how closely he’s pressed his face into your neck.

“I- I’m leaving,” you retort weakly, managing to get your hand on the doorknob.

He hums, pressing one of his hands against the door, keeping it shut.

“Leon,” you sigh exasperatedly, “we can’t. You’re the one who said we should stop.”

“If I hadn’t said that, would you have stayed?”

The question hangs in the air. Your silence is answer enough. Leon’s mouth on your tits had been more than enough to convince you to stay, the memory of his clothed cock pressed up against your panties making you bite back another whine. His hand has begun to slide to your leg, smoothing up over your skin and under your skirt.

“Tell me,” Leon coaxes, his fingers grazing your panties, “would you have stayed?”

A strangled gasp is your response as he presses the pads of his fingers up against your panties. Leon lets out a low laugh, landing a soft kiss to your neck, his fingers rubbing at your cunt through the fabric of your panties.

Your head tips forward, forehead pressing against the door and mouth opening in a silent moan when Leon rubs faster. He trails kisses down your neck before nuzzling into the crook of it, pressing you against the door harder to grind his cock into your ass.

“C’mon, baby,” he urges again, “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I- I hate you,” you grit out but you rock your hips across his hand anyways, wanting more friction against your pussy.

Leon clicks his tongue, drawing his fingers away.

“Ngh- nooo,” you whine, trying to get his hand back to where you want him to touch you, “Leon!”

It’s too late though, Leon’s already unlatched himself, taking a few steps back to put some space between you two. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts, pursing his lips as he stares down at you.

“You’re a piece of shit, Leon.”

“You know, that makes me less inclined to want to touch you.”

“Fine,” you say, throwing your hands up, “I’ll just do it myself.”

“W- what?” Leon blurts out, gaze fixated on the sway of your hips as you push past him. He watches as you settle down onto his couch, your head tipping back as your hand disappears under your skirt and slips past the band of your panties.

A soft sigh escapes you when you touch yourself, eyes fluttering shut. You’re wet thanks to Leon, body squirming as your fingers circle your swollen clit to find some relief.

“Fuck,” Leon hisses, watching as you masturbate on his couch without a care in the world. His cock throbs painfully and he’s dropping to knees before he can stop himself, hands grabbing at your legs.

“No,” you glare at him when he tries to pull your panties down, swatting his hand away.

“Please?” he pleads, eyes darkened with lust, “baby, please? I- I just wanna see.”

“‘m not your baby,” you grouse, trying to shove his face away as your fingers slide through your slick folds.

“You could’ve been,” Leon mutters.

He looks a little bitter and you raise your brows in question. “You hate me.”

“No I don’t,” he replies, nuzzling into your knee, lips pressing against your skin in a gentle kiss, “I want you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you murmur, rolling your eyes when he manages to capture your wrist in his hand, stopping you from pushing him away. A soft gasp escapes you when he curls his arms over your thighs, spreading you open for him.

“Been wanting to fuck you ever since he brought you ‘round,” Leon whispers, peppering kisses to your inner thighs, “you’re so pretty.”

You mewl, hips bucking as he pulls your panties down your legs. Leon’s eyes darken as your fingers move, spreading apart the folds of your pussy so he can get a good look.

“Fuck,” he groans, “pussy’s so fucking wet, baby.”

Your fingers run through his soft hair, pulling his head closer. Leon goes more than willingly, his tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up your pussy. He lets out a guttural moan, arms tightening around your thighs, hands disappearing up your top to squeeze at your tits as he all but shoves his face into your cunt.

“You- oh- you should apologize, Leon,” you whisper, pushing his head away when he tries to suck your clit into his mouth. “You didn’t like any of my outfits and you were mean.”

“Are you serious?” he asks, trying to nuzzle back into your pussy.

You nod, and he groans, half-lidded eyes never straying from your leaking cunt.

“‘m sorry,” he breathes out, inching closer and managing to land a soft kiss to your aching clit, “‘m sorry, okay? I was an asshole and fuck-” Leon shudders, nudging past your hand to kiss your clit again as his eyes meet yours, “I didn’t him to want to see you like that, all pretty and dolled up.”

There’s a strange fluttering sensation in your chest, heart skipping a beat at his confession. You stare down at him, letting him kiss your clit one more time before you rub your fingers through your folds, pressing your slick fingers against his mouth. Leon moans, mouth opening, sucking your fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them.

“Don’t stop,” you mumble when Leon licks your pussy again.

He hums, squeezing at your tits, fingers pinching and tugging at your nipples as he eats you out. Soft mewls spill from your mouth, hips rocking to meet his mouth, back arching to press more of yourself against him.

You jerk in his grasp, an involuntary twitch running through your body when he strokes the pad of his thumb over your clit gently, his tongue burying itself inside of you.

“Leon,” you whine, tugging at his hair while your head tips back, “‘m close.”

He doubles his efforts when you say that, pinching your nipples roughly as he slurps and sucks at the wetness of your pussy. The sounds are lewd, the soft smack of his lips around your slick folds and aching cunt making you flush.

“Taking my fingers so good,” he whispers, pushing two of his fingers inside of your cunt and cooking them so that they brush against your sensitive spot.

You fist his hair tighter, moans growing louder as he fucks his fingers in and out of you, his mouth latching onto your clit, tongue flicking and stroking across the swollen bud before sucking hard.

“Ah!” you squeak out, shoving his face further into your cunt, thighs trapping his face and squeezing tight as you cum, body shuddering and toes digging into his back, “Leon!”

Leon groans into your cunt, taking your orgasm eagerly, sucking and licking at your wetness, drinking it down. He huffs a breath when you try to push his head away, moving your hand away to lick over your pussy despite your twitching thighs and the painful grip you have on his hair.

He pulls away finally with a kiss to your clit, grinning up at you, his eyes hazy with lust. The lower half of his face is wet and Leon licks his lips before leaning towards you, his nose nudging against yours.

“Kiss me, sweetheart.”

You whine, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He stares up at you, lips parted and you lower your head, hesitation and guilt forgotten as you press your lips against his. Leon lets out a contented sigh, his arms wrapping around your waist, lips moving against yours eagerly.

He gets off of his knees and crawls on top of you instead, hips slotting between your thighs. Your legs wrap around his waist, kissing him languidly and gasping into his mouth when he grinds his clothed cock against your bare cunt.

“Want it?” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck, “want my cock, baby?”

“We- we shouldn’t,” you whisper weakly, watching as he sits back to pull his shirt up over his head.

You gulp nervously when you see his bare upper half, cunt clenching at the sight of his muscled abdomen and thick biceps. Leon ignores you, his lips slotting over yours again, hand caressing your waist soothingly.

A sigh leaves you, hands smoothing over his shoulders to pull him closer. He stares down at you, panting softly, his face pressing into the crook of your neck.

“You’re right,” he murmurs.

Neither of you make any moves to detach from each other however, Leon’s hand stroking over your hair as he grunts and rocks his hips against your cunt again.

“Just- shit- just the tip,” Leon offers, groaning when he feels your hands on his chest, “just the tip, baby.”

You whimper into his mouth when he kisses you again, fingers creeping down to pull at his shorts impatiently.

“D- doesn’t count if it’s just the tip,” you agree breathlessly, hand wrapping around his fat cock.

“Yeah,” Leon says, his voice shaky, “yeah, doesn’t hah- doesn’t count if it's just the tip.”

Leon mutters out a curse when your thumb swipes over the sensitive head of his cock, kissing you roughly as he grasps his cock, pumping it a few times. You watch, flushed and eager as he presses his cock against your folds, rubbing it against you.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he snarls, moving his cock and slapping it the tip of it against your swollen clit, smearing pre-cum across your folds. “‘m gonna make you forget about him,” Leon slurs, “gonna make you mine, sweetheart.”

He presses the tip of his cock into you and you whine, clawing at his biceps, feeling the initial stretch of his cock. Leon grunts, his face pressing back into the crook of you neck, fucking you shallowly.

“Bet my entire cock would feel good,” he mumbles, kissing your neck, “wouldn’t that be nice, baby? My fat cock filling you up?”

“But- but we can’t,” you babble, gasping when he pushes his cock in a little more, “Leon- oh fuck-”

Your words die on your tongue when Leon drives his hips into you, cock filling you up completely. A strangled moan leaves you, head tipping back as you cry out, Leon groaning as he pounds his hips into you.

“Take it, sweetheart,” he grunts, hand smoothing over your hair as he kisses your cheek messily, “doing so good, made to take my cock, my sweet girl.”

The praise is making your eyes roll to the back of your head, legs tightening around his hips as your nails claw down his back.

“Kiss,” you whine, lips parting for Leon, “kiss me.”

Leon lets out a low growl, his lips crashing onto yours, cock dragging in and out of your clenching walls rapidly. The sounds of your skin clapping together fills his apartment, but you’re too cockdrunk, too utterly gone to have any care in the world. All you can think about is his weight on top of your body, his lips dragging across your skin, his cock pounding into you.

“Squeezing me so tight,” Leon moans, “gonna make me cum, baby.”

You nod rapidly, cunt clenching around him as the coil of pleasure in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

“Leon!” you wail, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, body twitching.

“Cum,” he grunts, squeezing your hips tightly, “c’mon baby, cum on my cock. Be a good girl and cream my fucking cock.”

His lips slot over yours and you whimper, kissing him back needily as you shake in his grasp, orgasm racking through you as you cum.

“Fuck-” Leon whispers, feeling the clench of your cunt around his cock, “baby, baby, baby.”

His hips stutter, his head falling between your breasts, soft pants filling the air as he cums. Leon’s hot cum floods your pussy, another whimper escaping you as you feel his cock twitch.

You both lay there, chests heaving.

“I hate you,” you whisper, running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Yeah,” Leon rasps, “I know.”

He kisses you anyways.

Your boyfriend’s been promoted.

It’s how you find yourself here, latched onto his arm as he talks with his colleagues with a tight smile on your face. Unfortunately for you, Leon happens to work at the same place which is why you spend most of your time trying to avoid him.

You’d tried to get out of attending the anniversary dinner, too ashamed and sick to your stomach, but your boyfriend had pleaded with you, which had only made you feel guiltier.

You can’t escape Leon’s gaze either. His eyes bore into you no matter where you go in the spacious venue and it gets to the point where you’re telling your boyfriend that you need to get some fresh air. There’s a fire escape and you take your chance, pushing past the heavy door to suck in a deep breath of the cool night air. The expanse of the city lies out before you, buildings lit up and roads bustling with traffic. You rub your aching temples, eyes squeezing shut.

Unfortunately, you don’t get to cool down for long, not when Leon’s joining you. He looks as handsome as ever, especially in a suit, his hair combed back neatly.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Go fuck yourself, Leon,” you hiss out, pointing your finger at him accusingly.

A lazy grins spreads across his face, his arm curling around your waist to pull you flush against him. Your hands land against his chest, breath hitching when he lowers his head, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

“Fuck me yourself, hm?”

You end up bent over the railing with Leon’s fat cock stuffed inside of you. He grips your hips roughly, groans as you cry out into the night, peppers kisses over your shoulder and shoves his fingers into your mouth while he whispers sweet nothings to you.

“You’re my girl.”

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon kennedy

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 2 months ago

Text

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Jaehyun ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Jaehyun x f!famous!reader

summary: you and Jaehyun are paired up for an interview. You should know what texting your boyfriend is like, right?

(cw: f!reader, famous!reader)

"Hi," Jaehyun greets the camera, "this is the perfect opportunity to catch up on some music." He settles into the plush pink chair while he fits the headphones over his ears.

His music begins to play while you enter the set and greet the camera which prevents him from hearing who his mystery partner might be. You pop your earbuds in and explain your screen name, "I chose Cupid because I like to set my friends up and help them in their relationships."

The camera cuts to Jaehyun who stares blankly at the camera, "I choose Valentine, because I was born on Valentine's day."

You settle into the chair and make yourself comfortable while your partner for the video begins messaging you. Whoever it is is very proper, uses all the right punctuation and is straightforward. Your eyes widen at the camera, speaking through the music playing through your earbuds, "is this an old man? Am I texting someone's grandpa?"

The staff bursts out laughing and you decide to text your exact question. Jaehyun's eyes widen and he can feel his ears heat in embarrassment beneath the head phones. He texts back with a slight pout on his face, "No, I'm not a grandpa."

You text back and forth for a while, talking about your hobbies, your MBTI, and just trying to make small talk. When you make a joke he doesn't respond with any laughs or emojis, when you try to make more conversation, he responds with short answers. You lean back in your chair, with a huff, "this person is not very fun. It has to be an old man. He doesn’t get any of my jokes!”

The staff prompts you both to send a picture of your home screens. You had recently updated it knowing that you were doing the interview and you and Jaehyun liked to keep your relationship private. Yes, it was known and public, but that didn't mean you were both open to sharing every little aspect, or really any details. Maybe one day you would both be open to sharing everything, but that day was not today.

You quickly take a screenshot of your screen which happens to be a couple folders of your apps and a widget of some picture you had found on Pinterest against the background of some flowers outside your favorite cafe.

Jaehyun perks up a little bit, "I think this looks familiar. I recognize the chairs and words on the wall, even though I can't really see it. Maybe it's one of the members?"

You study the picture sent to you with your brows furrowed as you zoom in and study the apps and the picture, "this looks so familiar to me. It looks like a restaurant in Jeju I was at a few weeks ago, I could be wrong. Let me ask."

The staff struggles to muffle their laughs at yours and Jaehyun's joint confusion. Of course, the pictures looked familiar to each of you, you were together, and had been to these places together.

You continue to text back and forth for a while, finally getting somewhere when he starts to show a little more personality and send some memes in response to your texts. He seemed to be a pretty funny guy, ultimately making you decide it was not an old man you were texting, just someone more proper and maybe old-er.

When it comes time to have you both send your recent food orders, Jaehyun pouts and furrows his brows as he studies the recent orders you'd sent him. There were 3 recent orders, 2 were for 2 people, and the last one was for a larger group. The orders looked familiar, one order for pizza and the other for ramen. It was food he had recently eaten and as hard as he tried to remember he couldn't remember who he had eaten the food with. His schedule had been so packed lately, everything was jumbled up in his head. "It has to be one of my members," he decides out loud.

You study the screenshot sent by "Valentine" while biting your lip, one of the orders was what you had eaten yesterday. A small voice in the back of your head was telling you it was your boyfriend, but he told you he was doing talk shows and variety shows today. This wasn't considered either right? Does he really text like this and you’ve never noticed? Surely, you know what your own boyfriend texts like, right?

You both continue chatting and whoever it is makes you laugh pretty hard at some points when your partner says something stupid or sends a dumb meme. You laugh especially loud, choking on your spit when he sends you a drawing of what he thinks you look like.

You have tears in your eyes and warm cheeks as you stare at a poor drawing of what looks like a boy, freckles, huge eyes, big smile. Your eyes dart from the screen of your phone to the lens of the camera, “wh- he thinks I’m a boy? This doesn’t even look like a person who actually exists!”

Jaehyun on his own side bursts out laughing after zooming in and looking at every detail of the picture, “there are wrinkles on this drawings face. And it’s bald. He thinks I’m an old man, so weird.”

As the time winds to an end you look at the staff behind the camera, somewhat shocked and saddened by the end. "Time flew by!" you scrunch up your face as you think, "I don't think I have a really good read on who it is. I think it's a man that's older than me and probably someone in the music industry since he related to so much. Maybe he's a dancer or producer of some kind."

On the other side Jaehyun is set on who he thinks it is, "it's one of my members, I know it. I think it's Jungwoo or Haechan."

You both stand and turn to face your partners. Upon catching sight of Jaehyun, you immediately scream and run behind the set laughing while screaming, "you told me you had variety shows today! Go home!"

Jaehyun bursts out laughing, hunched over as his cheeks flush, "you didn't tell me either! Get back here!"

Your voice comes out loudly paired with your surprised and embarrassed laughter, "No! I'm so humilated!"

The staff manages to get you both together for the ending conversation. The cameras start filming and you smack Jaehyun's forearm lightly, "you are a horrible texter."

"What did I even say?" He laughs in shock.

"I never realized how boring you are through words, you text like an old man."

Jaehyun answers the staff as they ask how you both possible couldn't pick up on each other through the texts. Jaehyun looks at the camera while he answers, his hand holding yours beneath the tall table, "I think texting is so boring and annoying. We call each other or video call. If we open our messages we use voice notes, we very rarely actually text each other.

You squeeze his hand under the table, eyeing him with a mischievous look, “who did you think I was? You thought I was a boy, who did you have in mind?”

Jaehyun rubs his free hand over his face, already regretting his guess, “before I tell you, you have to understand my thinking. Jeno and Chenle did one of these interviews together so I just figured it could be another member. I thought you were Jungwoo or Haechan.”

You guffaw, a shocked laugh leaving you as you pull your phone out and pull up the drawing he had sent you, “this is what Jungwoo or Haechan look like to you?”

“I’m not an artist! Well, not that kind of artist, but I think it’s pretty good. I even added teeth in the smile.”

“Babe, that’s creepy.”

“Who knew you were such an art critic all of a sudden?” He playfully asks with a bobble of his head.

The staff subtly tell you both to wrap it up, reminding you to take a selfie before ending the video. You catch the cues and smile at Jaehyun, “we’ve been together for a while now but I feel like I learned a lot about you today. You text like an old man, you can’t draw, and you have a horrible memory.”

“Hey! You didn’t know who I was either! The food orders didn’t give anything away?”

“We’re talking about this later,” you decide to reply as you lift your phone to take a selfie.

“Wait, lift it to this angle,” Jaehyun instructs as he gently moves your arm.

“Wow, so bossy,” you mumble jokingly as you snap the picture.

The screen goes black with the selfie of you and Jaehyun with matching bright smiles on your faces as yours and Jaehyun’s laugh transition into the ending of the video.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios

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bellaxgiornata · 3 months ago

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Catcalling the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings/tags: drunk Reader, humor, terrible flirtatious comments, and lots of appreciation for the Ass of Hell's Kitchen

Summary: A night out takes an amusing turn when you accidentally and drunkenly catcall the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

a/n: This little one shot is brought to you thanks to the Murdock Tuna Team who not only inspired the idea, but helped create some of the flirtatious banter. I just couldn't resist the idea of catcalling the Devil in the black suit, okay? Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Pushing open the door of Alchemy, you stepped outside and onto the sidewalk. The sweltering heat of Hell’s Kitchen greeted you, the humidity mixing with the sticky sweat already coating your skin and adding another uncomfortable layer of dampness. But it still felt far more refreshing outside in the humid evening air than it did inside the busy bar with countless other sweaty bodies packed together. The usual buzz of the city at night was even welcoming in comparison to the loud music that had been steadily aggravating the pounding in your head for the past twenty minutes.

Walking unsteadily in your heels, you turned to the right and made your way over towards the corner of the building and away from Alchemy's main doors and thumping music. One of your hands reached up as you stumble-walked, grabbing at the neck of your dress and peeling it off of your wet skin to allow some air to flow inside and cool your heated body. You’d spent a good portion of your evening drunkenly dancing with your friends as you celebrated Elise’s birthday tonight, which was why you'd decided to wait for your Uber outside of the bar–so you could catch your breath before heading home.

As you neared the alley, your ankle unexpectedly twisted when your heel caught in a crack along the sidewalk. A surprised gasp slipped past your lips as you began falling forward face-first towards the pavement. Your hand released the neck of your dress and instinctively flew out to your side, your palm landing against the brick of the building just in time to awkwardly catch yourself. Struggling to steady your inebriated self, you stayed bent in half as the pavement swirled beneath your black heels.

Once the spinning had finally stopped, you threw your other hand out and began to desperately claw your way back upright with both hands along the brick. Limping forward, you leant up against the side of the bar and tried to ease the pressure off your now sore ankle. With a low groan you attempted to find a comfortable position against the brick, supporting your weight more fully along the wall and resigning yourself to waiting right here for your Uber. Internally you cursed yourself for wearing such tall heels and drinking as much as you had tonight–hopefully you hadn’t actually injured your ankle. You’d probably be regretting your decisions in the morning, especially since you still had to go into work.

Reaching up, you ran the back of your hand across your forehead in an attempt to remove some of the sweat that had accumulated there. But just as you’d begun to lower your hand back to your side, movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. Your head turned in the direction of it, your vision spinning momentarily before everything came back into focus. Though the second your brain managed to make sense of the black blur on the rooftop, your mouth fell open. Because there on the roof just above you was the infamous Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

“There’s no way I’m this drunk,” you muttered to yourself.

You watched as the dark figure crouched down low on the corner of the building, his body hunched like a gargoyle overlooking the street below. He was only a few floors above you and seemingly searching for something with the way his head was scanning the street below as it moved back and forth in sharp movements. With his back turned towards you while he was lowered in a crouch, you had been left with a perfect view of his backside under the city lights. Whether it was due to how absolutely glorious the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s ass looked in his black pants while you were almost directly beneath him, or due to the handful of shots and cocktails you’d recently drank down, you’d suddenly loosed a long, low whistle out into the night.

Immediately the Devil’s head snapped over his shoulder the second you’d whistled. Eyes growing wide in shock, your body straightened against the wall behind you instantly. You hadn’t even realized you’d just catcalled the Devil until you’d actually done it. And now he was crouched atop the roof and staring right down at you.

For a long time you stood there locking eyes with the masked man–or so you assumed, considering you couldn’t see his eyes beneath the black on his face. Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, yet a tension had quickly formed in the air.

Until a peel of laughter bubbled right up out of your mouth.

The Devil’s head tilted sharply to the side as the sound echoed through the alley beside you. You threw a hand up to cover your mouth, trying to stifle the noise, but somehow that only made you laugh harder. Because no one would believe you about this later. But your laughter fell short when the Devil rose to his full height on the rooftop, spinning around to face you with a fluid grace that had made your head spin in return. Biting down on your lip, you fought back another round of laughter as tears began to form in your eyes. You’d only managed to reduce your amusement at the situation to barely restrained giggles before he spoke.

“Something wrong?” the deep voice called out.

You shook your head quickly, the Devil briefly blurring into three Devils above you. Throwing your hand up into the air, you sent him a single thumb’s up. “No!” you answered, stifling another giggle. “Everything’s fine, Devil. Just–just appreciating the view.”

His head cocked to the side even further, the sight reminding you of a dog. Another giggle slipped out of you before you could stop it. Though you once more bit down on your lip when the vigilante began to expertly climb his way down the side of the building. Openly admiring his body as you readjusted your position against the wall–which was currently still single-handedly keeping you upright at the moment–you watched as he easily made his way from the roof to the alley. If it hadn’t been for the curious, pleased smile that was clearly spread across his lips when he came to stand just a few feet away, you might’ve felt nervous that he’d suddenly taken as much of an interest in you as you had in him.

“Appreciating the view?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Your ass.”

The Devil’s lips twitched at your bold honesty and you bit back another giggle. This whole situation was so unbelievable it was actually absurdly hilarious.

“So you’re saying that you interrupted me solely just to whistle at my ass?” the Devil inquired. “Did I hear that right?”

Pushing away from the wall, you stumbled forward a step, squaring your shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes–or where you thought they were. “Yeah. Couldn’t exactly resist,” you answered, your words slurring a bit as you spoke. “You’re carryin’ an entire bakery’s worth of devil’s food cake back there.”

You wildly waved a hand towards the Devil’s lower half, sloppily gesturing towards his ass. His head once more tilted curiously to the side, the grin on his lips growing even wider in clear amusement.

“Devil’s food cake?” he questioned.

“Y’know,” you said, waggling your eyebrows suggestively at him. “‘Cause of all that–that cake you got back there. Wouldn’t mind a piece, personally.”

A huff of laughter slipped past the Devil’s lips and you brightened at the sound as it registered in your intoxicated ears. His positive reaction was only going to encourage you now.

“Are you… flirting with me?” he asked incredulously. “Because you do realize who I am, right?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst guy I’ve hit on tonight,” you replied with a shrug.

The Devil laughed, shaking his head as his attention dropped down towards his boots. A grin lingered along his lips, something almost bashful. But your focus openly shifted back down to the profile of his ass, your eyes appreciating the way the dark fabric stretched over him.

“Y’know it’s my friend’s birthday tonight,” you told him, swaying unsteadily on the sidewalk. “Didn’t realize you were the one bringin’ the cake.”

A snort of laughter met your comment, your smile growing wide as you watched the Devil’s head rise back up. He was smirking now, something mischievous in the way his mouth had twisted beneath the hard line of his mask.

Grinning back at him, your right hand cupped around your mouth as you leaned forward towards him. “But maybe you can let me blow out the candle,” you drunkenly half-whispered.

He shook his head at you, but the mischievous twist of his lips remained beneath the black fabric of his mask. “You're a bold drunk, aren't you?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you mumbled back, your eyes fixing along his lips. Without even thinking, you blurted next, “Wouldn’t mind climbing you like a building.”

Another surprised snort of amusement fell out of him as he shook his head at you once more. “You’re full of so many terrible lines,” he teased back with a chuckle. “You do realize that, right?”

“Oh I’ve got plenty more,” you assured him with a nod, exaggeratingly waving a dismissive hand in the air between you both. “Don’t you worry. Could totally do this all night.”

“Oh really?” he asked. “Is that right? Because I certainly can make time for this.”

Your hand stopped flapping in the air between you both, a single finger raising up. “Okay, wait,” you amended. “I have an Uber coming. So maybe not all night, but probably a few more minutes.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, his smile briefly slipping. “Shame because this is turning out to be the most fun I’ve had so far in the mask.”

“Wanna make it more fun?” you asked, grinning suggestively at him.

The Devil’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth as he tried to bite back his growing smile. Something warm heated you, starting at the base of your skull and trickling down to your toes. Your eyes focused back on his mouth as your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You'd only been jokingly flirting, but now…

“Hate to be the voice of reason here,” the Devil began, “but I don't sleep with intoxicated women that I meet in alleys. I much prefer sober consent.”

“What a pity,” you mumbled, face contorting into a pout. “Never would've thought the Devil was a gentleman .”

“I'm full of surprises,” he teased.

You hummed thoughtfully in response, taking a step into the alley towards him and stumbling a little in your heels. Ignoring the growing throbbing of your ankle, you focused on the thrill of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen actually letting you flirt with him. You wanted to enjoy every minute of it, even if you probably wouldn't remember this moment too clearly in the morning.

“Anyone tell you you’ve got a pretty mouth?” you asked him.

The Devil shook his head, his smile returning. “No. Can't say the criminals I meet are too fond of passing out compliments when I'm hitting them,” he replied.

“Well you do ,” you assured him. “You really, really do .” Eyes narrowing at the plush lips of his still quirked into a smile, you studied the shape of them amongst the faint bit of dark stubble. “Reminds me of my boss. Now that's a mouth I'd love to do things with,” you drunkenly confessed. “But see,” you continued, pointing a firm finger at the Devil’s chest, “ he’s an asshole. Not fun like you.”

The Devil’s head tilted to the side again, his grin growing into a smirk. “Oh he is, is he?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. “Great ass, huge asshole. I’m–I’m sure there’s a stick shoved in there somewhere.”

The Devil barked out a laugh into the night as you reached into your purse and pulled out your phone. Squinting as the bright light assaulted your eyes, you saw that your Uber was mere minutes away. You loosed a disappointed sigh.

“Your ride almost here?” the Devil asked.

“Unfortunately,” you answered, returning your phone to your purse. “Unless you wanna be my ride tonight?”

Zipping your purse back up, you heard the Devil let out another laugh. Your smile grew along with your surprise at this whole interaction. You hadn’t anticipated just how fun the masked vigilante actually was considering how he spent his evenings. It was a shame you’d never meet him again.

“Have you fallen tonight?” the Devil asked, still grinning at you.

You held up a hand, preventing him from continuing his thought. “If you're about to ask if I fell from heaven,” you slurred, “then I'm disappointed in your lines, Devil man.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head and laughing softly. “I’m just concerned you might have a concussion because of your continued flirting with a known vigilante. You should probably get your head checked out.”

“ You can check me out,” you teased coyly, sending him an exaggerated wink.

The Devil’s mouth opened, about to reply, but then his face darted over your shoulder, the corner of his lip twitching. You frowned when he took a step back, aware the gesture meant this entire interaction was quickly coming to an end. You didn’t want it to.

“Think your ride’s about here, actually,” the Devil said, further backing up into the alley. “Seems this is where I say goodnight.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t go yet!” you begged his retreating form. “I didn’t get any devil’s food cake!” you called after him. “How ‘bout a piece to-go? Sharing is caring!”

But somehow the Devil had quickly disappeared into the darkened alley, the only proof of his presence the echo of his laughter bouncing off the brick walls. The sound sent a pleasant chill up your body, a smile still lingering along your lips as you teetered on the spot staring after him.

The pounding in your head hit you almost immediately after the sound of your alarm hit your ears. Groaning miserably as your entire body protested waking, your hand blindly flew out from beneath the sheets and felt around for your phone. Opening your eyes, you immediately hissed in pain as the bright light in your bedroom burned them. You blinked rapidly, trying to push past the growing throbbing in your head in order to shut off your irritating alarm.

Silence finally settling once more in your room, you tossed your phone back down onto your nightstand and rolled onto your side before immediately halting. A wave of nausea hit you instantly and you squeezed your eyes closed, hoping to fight the feeling back. You needed to get up and get ready for work. You had twenty minutes to wash up, brush your teeth, and throw on clothes before you had to be out the door or you'd be late, and you could only imagine how irate your one boss would be if you were. You didn’t have time to get sick.

After a few moments, you were grateful when the nausea subsided. Cautiously you tested things, slowly opening your eyes again before tentatively pushing yourself upright in bed. The pounding in your head continued to rage on, another pathetic groan slipping past your lips. Drinking like you'd done on a weeknight last night had been a horrible idea. Vaguely you recalled the evening in flashes–doing rounds of shots, dancing with your friends, flirting with some guy. Most of the night remained a blur, though.

Feeling half-alive, you climbed out of bed and focused on getting ready for work. You'd briefly washed off in the shower, scrubbing yourself just clean enough to remove the scent of alcohol that felt like it was seeping out from your pores. Then you brushed your teeth vigorously before swirling some mouthwash around in your mouth, the taste of which had you fighting bile once more back down. Then you threw on whatever clean blouse and slacks your hands touched first, shuffling through your apartment towards your shoes as you pulled your pants on.

It had ultimately taken you more than twenty minutes to get ready for work and to get out the door since you'd had to stop and brace yourself against a wall or piece of furniture multiple times–either due to the pain in your head or the roiling in your gut. Then you'd been in a hurry making your way out of your building and towards the office, the morning sun and the usual city traffic only further aggravating your headache. By the time you'd finally gotten to work, you were more than ten minutes late and out of breath.

“I am–” you pushed open the door to the office, panting hard as you spotted one of your bosses leaning against your desk, “–so sorry. Was trying to get here on time but I went out last night. This morning was a struggle.”

“Well you're here now, at least,” Foggy said, glancing up from a paper in his hands at you. His brows creased together as he eyed you, his nose visibly scrunching in distaste. “Though you smell like you slept in a bathtub of liquor and you look like you woke up to fight a pissed off honey badger.”

You laughed lightly, the noise further irritating your head as you hurried over towards your desk before making your way around it. “Yeah. I'm aware,” you replied. “I'm sorry. My friend had a birthday last night and I went out to celebrate. I definitely drank too much and I completely regret it. I promise I learned my lesson.”

“Certainly not the best decision,” Foggy agreed. “But I'm glad to hear that. Maybe next time–”

“You're late.”

Your head darted over your shoulder at the sound of your other boss. Grimacing at the stern look on Matt’s face, your shoulders slumped as you set your bag down onto the top of your desk.

“I know, I'm sorry, Mr. Murdock,” you apologized. “It was a one time thing, it won't happen again, I promise.”

“Good, it better not,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe to his office. The corner of his lip twitched upwards for a second before he raised his coffee cup to his mouth, hiding the smile threatening to spread onto his lips. “Fog's right though, you smell like you bathed in the alcohol instead of drinking it. Can you even remember your night out?”

Chewing your lip awkwardly, your brows furrowed as you tried to recall last night. Though the sight of Matt standing there casually leaning against the doorframe drinking his coffee, the buttons of his sage green dress shirt struggling as he did, was making it hard for you to focus.

“Uh, bits and pieces of it?” you answered.

“Mmm,” he hummed out, lowering his coffee cup. “Well, hopefully your evening was worth showing up late for. I certainly enjoyed my night, though. Woke up in a good mood this morning, actually.”

Your eyes narrowed at the smile on his face, something tickling at the back of your mind at the sight of it. But Matt smiling instead of scolding you when you messed up was an unusual occurrence, one that had you hesitantly and distractedly lowering down into your desk chair.

“Which is why I brought doughnuts for everyone this morning,” Matt continued, gesturing a hand towards your desk. “I hope you still have an appetite after all the alcohol.”

“They're so good,” Foggy told you. “They’re from that new bakery a block over.”

Foggy slid the white box you hadn’t noticed on your desk over towards you. You watched as he flipped the lid open, the strong and sweet aroma of sugar and chocolate hitting your nose. Your stomach rumbled hungrily as you eyed the delicious chocolate pastries.

“Since when do you bring in doughnuts?” you asked, glancing back over at Matt.

He pushed off the doorframe, shrugging his shoulder. “I don't know,” he said, a strange smile drawing itself wide across his lips. “For some reason I woke up with a craving for devil's food cake and I just thought I’d share.”

With a deep chuckle Matt turned around, making his way back into his office. Head tilting curiously to the side, your eyes lingered along his backside as that strange feeling of something trying to reach the forefront of your mind returned.

Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ardent-crow @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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sugugasm · 4 months ago

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“NERDS DO IT BETTER.” | satoru gojo

⟡ tags : nerd! satoru + popular! yn, gojo loses his virginity at the hot cheerleader’s house party - content includes : reader uses she/her pronouns, fem! reader, riding, fingering, inexperienced! gojo, pet names, etc. also shout out 2 my fav @ramonathinks m’ so proud of this piece bae i hope you luv it jus as much as i do !!! MDNI 19+ 3.7K WC

satoru adjusted his glasses nervously as he and geto approached the sprawling mansion, music and laughter spilling out into the warm night air. “i don’t know about this, man,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “parties aren’t really my scene.”

geto rolled his eyes. “come on, live a little! when was the last time you got out and socialized? besides, you-know-who will be here . .” he elbowed gojo with a knowing grin.

gojo flushed, ducking his head. “like [★] would even look twice at me. she’s so far out of my league it’s not even funny.”

“well yeah, not with that attitude!” geto chided. “you’re a catch, gojo. smart, funny, stupid handsome. any girl would be lucky to have you. just talk to her, be your charming self. what’s the worst that could happen?”

“she could laugh in my face?” gojo suggested glumly. “or have her quarterback boyfriend beat me up?”

geto sighed in exasperation, slinging an arm around his best friend's shoulders. “you’ll never know if you don’t try. [★] is single and i’ve seen her checking you out in class when she thinks no one’s looking. trust me, you’ve got a shot. don’t waste it being a pussy.”

gojo took a fortifying breath as they crossed the threshold into the packed house. “okay. i’ll talk to her. but if i crash and burn, you owe me a whole tub of ice cream and a weekend of binge gaming, no complaints.”

“deal,” geto agreed easily, scanning the crowd. “now let’s get you a drink and go find your dream girl.”

and within only an hour and several red solo cups later, gojo could be found sandwiched between two jocks on a couch, only half-listening to their drunken debate about the upcoming game. his eyes kept flicking to where you held court across the room, radiant in a barely-there crop top and mini-skirt as you laughed with your girls. you were a vision, beautiful hair and glowing skin and dangly earrings catching the light. ethereal, untouchable.

what would a goddess like you possibly want with a loser like him?

and as if on cue, your gaze met his and your glossy lips curved in a small secret smile, eyes sparkling with mischief. his breathing hitched and he looked away quickly, face heating. okay, maybe geto had a point about you noticing him . . .

“who wants to play seven minutes in heaven?” your bubbly friend tiffany trilled over the music, brandishing an empty vodka bottle. “let’s make things interesting!”

wolf-whistles and drunken cheers met her suggestion as people began arranging themselves in a loose circle. gojo watched you toss your hair over your shoulder as you joined, a strange fluttering in his stomach. he jumped when geto clapped him on the shoulder.

“dude, this is perfect!” geto crowed. “the ideal low-pressure way to get some one-on-one time with [★]. let's get you in that circle.” he started pulling a sputtering gojo up off the couch.

“wha-geto, no way!” gojo protested, but it was too late. geto had already shoved him into the circle, right across from you. you quirked an eyebrow at him and his stomach somersaulted. was that a pleased gleam in your eyes?

the bottle made a few uneventful rounds - geto got seven giggly minutes with the head of the drama club, a blushing band student got dragged off by her fellow tuba player, and then . . tiffany passed the bottle to you with a significant look. gojo’s heart started smacking against his chest as you placed it in the center and gave it a deft spin, slender wrist twisting gracefully.

he watched with bated breath as the bottle rotated, transfixed. it seemed to spin for an eternity before finally slowing . . and stopping. neck pointed directly at gojo. blood roared in his ears as hoots and hollers erupted around the circle. you were looking right at him, a small smile playing about your glossy lips. “guess s’ jus’ you n’ me, cutie,” you said with a wink, getting elegantly to your feet.

in a daze, gojo stumbled upright, barely registering the good-natured ribbing and back slaps from the other players. you held out a hand to him and he took it automatically, skin tingling where it met yours. your fingers laced intimately through his as you tugged him away from the group . . . and toward the stairs?

“um, [★]?” gojo asked, voice cracking humiliatingly. “isn’t the closet that way?”

you threw a smile over your shoulder and his knees nearly buckled. “i got a better spot in mind. somethin’ more . . private.”

by the time his sluggish brain processed the implications of that, you were leading him into a bedroom. your bedroom, if the riot of pink and stuffed animals everywhere was any indication. you flicked on a lamp, bathing the space in soft flattering light.

gojo stood awkwardly by the door, heart doing double-time as he drank in the adorable organized chaos. various raye, boygenius, and sanrio posters on the walls, rainbow lego sets on the shelves. it was delightfully telling and somewhat . . surprising, so at odds with your smokeshow attitude and queen bee reputation. he was utterly charmed.

“sorry about the mess,” you said, sounding uncharacteristically shy as you perched on the edge of the lacy bedspread. “i know it’s a lot.”

“no, i love it!” gojo blurted, then winced. real smooth. “i mean, it’s really cute. suits you.”

“yeah?” you asked, sounding pleased. you patted the space beside you in clear invitation. “i don’t bite . . unless i’m asked nicely. c’mon, come sit with me, gojo.”

on slightly unsteady legs, he crossed the plush rug to sink down next to you, hyperaware of the warmth of your bare thigh against his denim-clad one. “so, um, i don’t really know how this is supposed to go,” he admitted, rubbing his neck. “i’m not exactly a seven minutes in heaven expert.”

“well, we’ve got some time to figure it out together,” you said, angling your body toward his. “maybe we could start with just talking? get to know each other a little?”

so that’s what you did. you started off with the typical small talk - classes, hobbies, favorite bands. but the conversation quickly deepened and expanded. you found yourself opening up to him, confessing your secret dreams and fears, things you rarely shared with anyone. in turn, he revealed his geeky passions, his insecurities, his hopes for the future.

the more you learned about the sweet, clever, quietly funny boy beneath the nerdy exterior, the more your heart softened and warmed. he was so genuine, so different from the jocks and rich boys you usually ran with. being with him felt comfortable, natural, intoxicating.

at some point, you’d shifted closer to him on the bed, your folded legs overlapping his, shoulders brushing. as you giggled your way through an anecdote, you rested a hand on his strong thigh without thinking. he tensed slightly and you felt a little thrill, a flicker of heat. you squeezed gently, fingertips pressing into firm muscle.

“m’ probably boring you,” you said with a wry smile, glancing at him through your lashes. “jus’ rambling on about myself. we could do something else, if you want. maybe, y’know, uphold the seven minutes tradition . .”

he inhaled sharply and you thrilled at the effect you were clearly having on him. “you mean . . you want to kiss me?”

“i mean, i definitely wouldn’t object,” you murmured coyly. “i like you a lot, satoru. in case it isn’t already obvious.”

his blue eyes darkened behind his glasses. “i really like you too, [★],” he said, voice low and rough. “an embarrassing amount.”

“yeah?” you breathed. “so are you going to kiss me, or . . do i have to beg?”

his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “well, um. i-i’ve never really done anything like that before,” he admitted with an awkward chuckle. “i don’t even know how i’ve gotten this far.”

“that’s okay,” you assured him, placing a hand on his knee and feeling him tense slightly under your touch. “we can take it slow, figure it out together. m’ not exactly an expert either.”

he nodded, looking relieved and grateful for your understanding. emboldened, you leaned in, giving him time to pull away. spoiler alert, he didn’t. his eyes just fluttered closed as you brushed your lips softly over his. they were warm and smooth, molding sweetly to your own. after a moment of stillness, he started to move his mouth tentatively against yours.

you let him set the pace, parting your lips in silent invitation. his tongue shyly traced the seam of your mouth and you opened for him on a sigh. he licked inside carefully, exploring you with gentle curiosity that made warmth bloom through your veins. you stroked your tongue along his, encouraging, and felt him shudder against you.

slowly, you sank back into your mountain of pillows, pulling him down with you. he settled over you carefully, a pleasant weight, strong and solid in all the right places. your fingers tangled in his dark hair as the kisses deepened, wetter, hotter. his own hands skimmed down your sides to settle on your hips, squeezing gently as he rocked subtly against you.

when you finally broke apart, you were both flushed and breathing unsteadily. “is this okay?” you checked, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “we can stop anytime if you’re uncomfortable.”

he shook his head immediately, eyes dark and intense behind his slightly fogged glasses. “no, i don’t wanna’ stop. i want you so bad, [★]. i’m just nervous i’ll do something wrong.”

your heart melted. “you won’t, satoru,” you promised. “we’ll go slow, i’ll show you. s’ all a process, ‘kay? jus’ do what feels good.”

he nodded, some of the tension easing from his frame. you pulled him back down for another kiss, lush and lingering. as your mouths moved together, you fumbled for the hem of his shirt, rucking it up his back. he broke away just long enough for you to pull it over his head and toss it aside before his lips found yours again.

your hands roamed his bared torso greedily, marveling at the lean muscle, the heat of his skin. gojo might look like a lanky nerd at first glance, but his body told a completely different story. you wanted to map every ridge and plane with your hands and mouth, discover all the secret places that would make him shake and gasp and moan. he shivered as your fingers skimmed over his ribs, his stomach, thumbs just brushing his nipples.

he made a hungry sound into your mouth when you lingered there, circling the tender buds questioningly. taking the hint, you tweaked them gently, rolling the sensitive flesh between your fingers. he jolted against you as if electrified, a moan vibrating in his chest.

“y’like that,” you guessed, doing it again and feeling his hips stutter forward helplessly into the cradle of your thighs.

“y-yeah,” he breathed, sounding almost surprised himself. “it feels really good.”

spurred on by his responsiveness, you devoted yourself to taking him apart, finding all the places that made him twitch and pant and whimper so sweetly. you kissed across his collarbones, scraped your teeth over his pulse point, soothed the sting with your tongue. you felt dizzy with him, drunk on the salt of his skin, his scent of clean and arousal, the incoherent sounds he made under your touch.

before long he was squirming restlessly against you, hard and insistent against your hip. “please,” he mumbled into your hair. “i need . .”

“what do you need?” you coaxed, nipping at his jaw. “tell me.”

he shuddered, hands flexing on your hips as he ground subtly against you. “i need — fuck, i need to touch you. need you to touch me. god, [★], i don’t know, i just . . please?”

“shhh, don’t stress, honey,” you soothed even as heat surged through you at his breathless plea. “let me take care of you.”

hooking a leg around his waist, you flipped your positions in one smooth motion, straddling his hips. he gazed up at you with something like awe, eyes wide and dark, lips kiss-swollen. your heart tripped over itself at the picture he made, wrecked and wanting in your rumpled sheets. quickly, before you could lose your nerve, you stripped off your own top and unhooked your bra, baring yourself to his heated stare. his hands came up immediately to cup your breasts, palming the soft weight greedily before catching your nipples between his fingers.

“aah!” you gasped, arching into the touch as sparks shot down your spine to throb between your legs. your hips rolled down against his, your clothed sexes grinding together deliciously. “y-yes, gojo, jus’ like that!”

emboldened by your encouragement, he explored your body just as thoroughly as you had his, broad hands and curious fingers finding all your most sensitive places. you were panting and mewling by the time he reached the button of your skirt with a questioning glance.

“please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips to help him shimmy the fabric down your legs. your panties quickly followed, leaving you bare to his burning gaze. and slowly, almost reverently, he reached out to touch — he couldn’t help it, fingertips skimming up your inner thighs. you shivered and parted them further in silent invitation. his eyes locked on yours as he carefully traced your slick folds, circling your aching entrance before moving up to swirl over your clit.

“show me how you like it?” he rasped, voice low and rough with arousal.

biting back a whimper, you covered his hand with your own, directing his movements. “like this,” you instructed breathlessly, guiding his fingers in tight circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. “a little firmer, mmm . .”

he followed your lead perfectly, rubbing and stroking until your thighs were quaking and you were moaning brokenly. it felt good, so good, but you needed more. “inside,” you pleaded when coherent thought became difficult. “gojo, please, put one inside . .” he swore under his breath at your words but quickly obeyed, carefully sinking one long finger into your fluttering heat. you cried out sharply at the intimate penetration, hips canting down to take him deeper. he watched your face avidly as he started to pump in and out, curling and twisting gently as he went.

“m-more,” you gasped, head thrown back as he found a particularly sensitive spot. “another, toru, i can take it.”

he groaned like he was the one being pleasured as he pushed a second finger in alongside the first, stretching you so exquisitely. he scissored gently, working you open, before crooking them just right to rub firmly against your g-spot.

you collapsed forward onto his chest with a fractured moan, fingers scrabbling at his heaving shoulders as he massaged that magic button with devastating accuracy. you knew you could easily come just like this, spitted on his clever fingers, but it wasn't what you wanted. not for your first time together.

“gojo,” you panted, catching his wrist to still his movements. “i wan’ you inside . .”

his eyes widened with understanding and he swallowed audibly. “a-are you sure?” he asked hoarsely even as his hips twitched up against yours eagerly.

“i’ve never been more sure of anything,” you said fiercely, holding his gaze so he could read the sincerity there. “i wan’ you, all of you. please.”

he nodded jerkily. “i want you too,” he said, voice low and intent. "so much, you have no idea.”

then he was kissing you again, hot and urgent, his tongue delving deep as large hands palmed your ass, rocking you against his straining erection. you moaned into his mouth, already imagining how he would feel inside you, stretching and filling you so perfectly.

together, you managed to wrestle him out of his jeans and underwear, your focus narrowing to the breathtaking sight of him laid bare beneath you. all long limbs and lean muscle, skin flushed with arousal, cock thick and hard against his taut stomach. he was beautiful, exquisite, unreal.

“let me . . .” you murmured almost to yourself as you shifted down his body, wanting to taste, to tease. but he caught your shoulders, stopping you.

“next time,” he said with a slightly shy smile at odds with the high color in his cheeks, the stark arousal in his gaze. “i don’t think i’d last right now and i really, really want to be inside you when i cum. if-if that’s okay.”

oh, that was more than okay. it was basically the hottest thing you'd ever heard. “definitely okay,”you confirmed a little breathlessly, reaching for the condom you’d stashed optimistically in your nightstand.

with trembling hands, you opened the packet and rolled the latex down his rigid length. he twitched in your grip when you gave him a few strokes, thumb swirling through the bead of moisture at his tip. “fuck,” he choked out, head tipping back. “you gotta stop or i'll . .”

“i know, baby. i know,” you soothed, moving to straddle his hips once more. your eyes locked as you notched him at your entrance, his hands coming up to grip your hips almost hard enough to bruise. “ready?” at his jerky nod, you sank down slowly, taking him inch by careful inch. he stretched you exquisitely, walls fluttering to accommodate his girth. when your hips met his, you were both panting, pulses racing, skin flushed with pleasure-pain.

“god,” he choked out after a long moment, sounding absolutely wrecked. “you feel incredible. so fucking tight.”

you clenched around him experimentally, walls hugging him ever so sweetly, and he bucked up into you with a low groan. “gojo,” you gasped, nails digging into his chest. “you’re so deep, so big . .”

“am i hurting you?” he asked, brow creased with concern even as he visibly struggled to keep still.

“n-no,” you assured him. “no s’ perfect, you feel fucking perfect. jus’ . . go slow. lemme’ adjust.”

he did, rocking into you with shallow little thrusts that gradually deepened as you relaxed around him. soon you were moving together, finding a rhythm, the drag of him in and out sparking pleasure along every nerve ending. you leaned down to kiss him messily, all tongue and panted breaths as your hips rolled and ground in tandem.

“i’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted between kisses, hands roaming restlessly over your back, your breasts, your ass. “wanted you. still can’t believe this is real.”

“s’ real,” you promised breathlessly, rising and falling faster on his cock as the tension coiled tighter in your core. “i’m real and i’m yours, gojo, all yours . .”

he made a rough sound, fingers digging into your hips as he started thrusting up harder, hitting that perfect spot inside you on every stroke. “mine,” he agreed, voice gravelly and low, sending shivers down your spine. “my [★], fuck, you’re absolutely perfect . .”

you could only moan in response, lost to the sensation of him moving inside you, hitting you so deep, stoking the fire in your belly to an inferno. your thighs burned, sweat blooming on your skin as you chased your peak, so close, almost . .

gojo was close too, you could tell by the telltale twitch and throb of him inside you, his thrusts going erratic. “m’ gonna’ cum,” he warned hoarsely, fingers scrabbling at your hips. “m’ gonna’ cum, m’ gonna’ cum . . i-i can’t h-hold —”

“yes - yes, yes, yes,” you gasped, grinding down hard, fingers flying over your clit. “cum in me satoru, wanna feel you, baby . .”

his hands grip your ass cheeks, spreading them apart before giving you two more sharp thrusts, leaving him cumming with a guttural moan of your name, pulsing hot inside you as you clenched and rippled around him. the feeling of him throbbing and spilling in you was enough to tip you over the edge, a cry tearing from your throat as you shattered around him, cumming so hard you saw white.

you collapsed onto his chest as aftershocks rolled through you, his hips still rocking shallowly into yours, drawing out your mutual pleasure. for a minute, you just panted together, sweat cooling on your skin, pulses calming. you felt him soften up and slip out of you and winced a little at the loss, a tender ache between your thighs. you’d have beard burn too, you just knew it. but it had been more than worth it.

satoru’s hands continued to stroke your back, your hair, as if he was reluctant to let go. you felt the same, luxuriating in his warmth, his scent, the sound of his heartbeat thumping steadily beneath your ear. you never wanted to move.

eventually though, he shifted beneath you and you lifted your head to find him gazing at you with soft, wondering eyes. “hey,” he said quietly, brushing your now-wild hair back from your face. “so, are we like, y’know . .”

“dating?” you finished, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. “yes, but only if you want that.”

his answering smile was like the sun coming out. “y-yeah, yeah. i want that. i’ve always wanted that.” he leaned up to kiss you slow and deep, tongue delving languorously into your mouth. “thank you. for showing me. for everything.”

“right back at you,” you murmured against his lips, heart so full it felt like it might burst. “m’ glad i got the chance.”

“me too.” he nuzzled his nose against yours sweetly. “so . . whaddo’ you wanna’ do now?”

you pulled back slightly to search his face, seeing both hope and trepidation there. “well, i was thinking . . maybe we could cuddle for a lil’ while longer. then, i dunno’, raid the flooded kitchen for snacks. come back up here n’ skip the party . . we could watch a movie? kinda jus’ . . see where it goes.”

relief and happiness shone from his eyes. “i’d really like that. a lot.”

“good.” you pecked his lips once more before settling back onto his chest, ear pressed over his heart. “s’ a date then.” you knew you’d have to leave this little bubble eventually, face the real world and whatever challenges it might bring. but right now, you didn’t care about any of that. right now, you had gojo, warm and solid beneath you, his fingers laced gently through your hair as exhaustion started to pull you under. you had this perfect moment, and the promise of more to come.

as you drifted off, lulled by his heartbeat and even breathing, a small smirk played about your lips.

damn, guess the rumors were true.

nerds really did just do it better.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent.

#gojo satoru #jjk smut #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo #satoru #jjk gojo #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu satoru #gojo satoru smut

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bamsara · 4 months ago

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Hello! I was wondering what company you use for your sticker sheets? I bough one from your Ko-Fi shop and really like the quality, and the pricing you were able to sell at is waaaaaay more reasonable compared to any of the companies I've seen and used myself. Is it a POD company, or a mass purchase of them to sell on your own?

Thank you for your time if you're able to respond!

I'm really glad you like the quality, because I actually make them by hand at home! (Please forgive the lighting, my bedroom is my office lmao.)

I don't use a company (and Idk what a POD company is sorry!) but making them at home gives a lot more freedom of stock, just be wary it can be very time consuming depending on how many you need to make.

I've had other people ask before, so here's a rundown of how I make my stickers at home: At most you'll need:

Printer

Sticker paper (this is the type that I use)

Laminator and lamination paper (the lamination paper that I use.) You can also use adhesive non-heat lamination paper if you don't have a laminator, gives you the same result, just be careful of bubbles. You will get double your worth out of a pack because we are splitting the pouches to cover two sticker sheets.

Your choice of a sticker cutting machine or just using scissors.

First, I use Cricut's software to print out the sticker sheet with the guidelines around the corners so the machine can read it. If you do NOT have a Cricut machine, open up your art program, make a canvas of 2550x3300 and fill it up with your sticker design with some cutting space between them. This the 8.5x11 size for the sticker page.

I usually have bleed selected so the cut comes out cleaner. Tip for non-Cricut users below: Increase the border around your sticker design to fake the 'bleed' effect for a cleaner cut.

These are the print settings I use for my printer. I use the 'use system dialogue' to make sure I can adjust the settings otherwise it prints out low quality by default. Make sure if you're using the above paper that you have 'matte' selected, and 'best quality' selected, these aren't usually selected by default.

So you have your sticker sheet printed! Next is the lamination part. I use a hot laminator that was gifted to me, but there is no-heat types of lamination you can peel and stick on yourself if that's not an option.

(This is for protection and makes the colors pop, but if you prefer your stickers matte, you can skip to the cutting process.)

Important for Cricut users or those planning to get a Cricut: You're going to cut the lamination page to cover the stickers while also not covering the guidelines in the corners. First, take your lamination page and lay it over the sheet, take marker/pen and mark were the edges of your stickers are, and cut off the excess:

(I save the scrap to use for smaller stickers or bonuses later on)

After you've cut out your lamination rectangle, separate the two layers and lay one down on your sticker sheet over your stickers with matte side down, shiny side up. (Save the other sheet for another sticker page)

The gloss of the lamination will prevent the machine from reading the guidelines, so be careful not to lay it over them. It also helps to cut the corners afterwards to prevent accidentally interfering with the guidelines.

Now put that bad boy in the laminator! (Or self seal if you are using non-heat adhesive lamination)

Congrats! You now have a laminated page full of stickers.

For non-cricut/folks cutting them out by hand: this is the part where you start going ham on the page with scisscors. Have fun~

Cutting machine: I put the page on a cutting mat and keep it aligned in the corner, and feed it into the machine. For laminated pages I go between 'cardstock' and 'poster board' so that it cuts all the way through without any issues, but for non-laminated pages or thinner pages, I stick for 'vinyl' and 'light card stock'. Kinda test around.

Now I smash that go button:

You have a sticker now!

The pros of making stickers at home is that you save some cost, and you have more control of your stock and how soon you can make new designs. (I can't really afford to factory produce my stickers anyway)

However, this can be a very time consuming, tedious process especially if you have to make a lot of them. There is also a LOT chance for some errors (misprints, miscuts, lamination bubbles, ect) that will leave you with B-grade or otherwise not-so-perfect or damaged stickers. (Little note, if you have page mess up in printing and can't be fed into the cricut machine, you can still laminate it and cut it out by hand too.)

I have to do a lot of sticker cutting by hand, so if you don't have a cricut don't stress too much about it. I have an entire drawer filled to the top of miscuts/misprints. I keep them because I don't want to be wasteful, so maybe one day they'll find another home. Sucks for my hand though.

But yeah! This is how I make my stickers at home! Hope this is helpful to anyone curious

#sticker making #stickers #sticker tutorial #sorry for the long post

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starkeyisthelastname · 5 months ago

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gotta give credit where it’s due because i can’t stop thinking about this filthy idea after what @islandclubchampagneroom @rafescurtainbangz said 💦🫠 am i messed up for this? or do we want more? 🙈

Trailerpark!Rafe who has lived a rough life and isn’t a very nice man. He’s mean, and real rough. Working shitty odd jobs to pay rent and afford a pack of cigarettes and a case of beer. You catch his eye one day when he strolls into the dingy office to pay what he can for the month. You sit behind the desk all pretty and shit, tits nearly hanging out of the little white sundress you wore. You would glance up at him with big eyes, red sucker between full lips as you couldn’t help but stare at him. You were the sugary sweet and naive daughter of the owner of the park, who had never had boyfriend let alone been touched by a man. Rafe could practically smell the innocence and wanted to ruin you, his blue eyes peering down at you through the hat he wore.

It didn’t take much for you to fall for his tricks either, so sheltered from the outside world and what a bad man he really was. You found him so handsome, not caring if his hands weren’t the cleanest or he smelled like cheap cologne. You couldn’t help but chase after him, following him like a lost puppy around the trailer park. You’d always come by his place, giving him a basket of sweet treats you had made, or asking if you could watch him work on his truck.

Before long he’d invite you inside, a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he sat back against the torn couch, your gorgeous little self practically humping him like a bitch in heat as his rough digits played with your drooling hole. His veiny forearm would hold you in place across his lap, giving your cunt a firm smack to keep you from squirming as he slid a thick finger in.

“Quit fuckin movin, gotta stretch this pretty lil thing out for my cock, baby doll.” His voice deep and raspy with a nasally southern drawl that only made your cunt clench for more.

#rafe cameron #trailerpark!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron concepts #rafe concepts #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #obx #obx smut #outer banks

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waitimcomingtoo · 8 months ago

Text

Smell Ya Later

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: you get a new body cream that allegedly attracts spiders, and someone else

Masterlist

Whenever you needed a some space from your everyday routines, you packed up your stuff and spent the weekend in your room at the Stark Tower. You had spent the day shopping and picked up a few self care items, including a new body cream you had seen online. Once night had fallen and you felt you had shopped enough, you retreated back to your room and sat at your desk to look at the things you had bought.

“Let’s see how you smell.” You said as you twisted the cap off the body cream. You had barely raised the jar to your nose when Peter appeared the doorway of your room.

“Hey.” He greeted.

“Jeez. You scared me. I didn’t know you were here tonight.” You laughed and put your hand over your pounding heart.

“Yeah, I’m spending the weekend here to give my aunt some time with her boyfriend. But, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was walking by and wanted to come say hi.” He laughed shyly.

“Oh. Well, hi.” You smiled and gave him a little wave.

“Mm. Something smells really good in here.” Peter sniffed the air as he walked into your room. You were pretty sure this was the first tike Peter was actually in your room and that made you gulp.

“Really? I don’t smell anything.”

“Maybe it’s just the air. Girls rooms always smell good.” He shrugged.

“Are you in a lot of girls rooms?” You asked teasingly but were dying to know the answer.

“No.” He chuckled. “But I remember from going over to girls houses for group projects and stuff in middle school. Plus, Natasha’s and Wanda’s room always smells good when I walk by. Not that I go around sniffing everyone’s rooms.”

“I’m starting to think you might.” You mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t, I swear. Did you just go shopping?” He laughed and leaned against your desk. You sucked in a sharp breath over the close proximity and nodded your head.

“I did. But I didn’t get anything exciting.”

“What do you mean? This looks very exciting. What is this?” Peter asked as he held up a fluffy headband with a large bow at the front.

“A headband to keep my hair out of my face when I wash it.”

“Oh. I thought it was a giant scrunchie. Or a really small tube top.” Peter pursed his lips as he turned the headband over in his hands to try and understand it.

“No. Neither.” You laughed shyly as you watched him touch your things.

“What’s this thing?” He asked and held up your heartless curls rod.

“It’s for heartless curls.” You replied, making Peter look at you in confusion.

“You know. Curling your hair. With no heat.”

“This tiny pool noodle curls your hair?” Peter asked in disbelief and held up the limp rod.

“Yes. You wrap it around this and sleep in it. Then you wake up with curly hair.” You explained and wrapped a strand of your hair around it to demonstrate.

“Okay. I’m getting closer to understanding. What role does this thing play in all of that that?” Peter asked as he picked up a claw clip from your desk and opened it a few times.

“You use this to clip the rod onto your head while you wrap your hair.” You informed him.

“Wow. Sometimes I feel like girls live in an entirely different secret world than boys. Like, I just put water in my hair and say I’m ready. But you guys have all these fun fancy contraptions.” He smiled as he played with a scrunchie on your desk.

“Yeah. I guess it is kinda fun.” You shrugged as you looked at all the silly contraptions laid out in your desk.

“Woah. What’s this thing?” Peter gasped and picked up your jade roller that was still in the package.

“It’s called a jade roller.”

“You’re gonna have to explain.” He said and looked to you for help.

“I haven’t tried it yet but basically you put it in the refrigerator and then roll it on your face to decrease puffiness in the morning.” You explained as you took it out of the box.

“And it works?”

“I don’t know. But it feels good.” You shrugged and rolled it up and down your cheek.

“I can’t imagine that medieval looking thing feeling good.” Peter mumbled.

“It does. Come here.” You beckoned him with your finger and he leaned down closer to your face. You smiled timidly at him as you rolled it up and down his face.

“See? It feels nice, right?” You asked in a soft voice.

“I’ve never experienced this feeling before.” Peter said and closed his eyes peacefully.

“You should get one.” You chuckled and rolled it on his forehead.

“I don’t know. Mr. Stark already made fun of me for my Lana Del Ray poster. If he sees this in my room he might think I’m a little weirdo.”

“Who cares what he thinks? He has a “nail girl” for his weekly manicures and pedicures. And I think it’s attractive when a guy cares about his hygiene. Which says a lot about my standards now that I say that out loud.” You realized and thought about that for a minute.

“Maybe I will get one then. Because I care about my hygiene. A lot. More than the other guys you know, I bet.” Peter bragged, making you laugh.

“I would not have a hard time believing that.” You answered honestly.

“Why do you need all this stuff anyway? You’re so pretty.” Peter asked as he gestured to all the things on your desk. Guy cracked a smile at his casual compliment but didn’t make a big deal out of it.

“It guess it’s like you said. It’s fun. I like using these things when I’m having quiet time by myself.”

“I like that. That’s something new I just learned about you. I also didn’t know your last name until right now.” Peter tapped a school paper on your desk that said your full name. You laughed as he stood up and headed towards your door. The moment was ending but it was the first time you really talked to Peter one on one in that way so you still took it as a win.

“Seriously. Something smells really good in here.” He said from your doorway.

“I think I smell it too now. Maybe somethings in the air.” You smiled shyly.

“Must be.” He smirked. “Goodnight, L/n.”

“Goodnight, Parker.” You called after him. Once he was gone, you stayed looking at the doorway with a starstruck smile on your face. You didn’t know what prompted Peter to talk to you all of the sudden but you were thankful to whatever it was.

The next day, you went downstairs for breakfast and found Natasha and Wanda in the kitchen. You stopped to talk to them for a minute as you finished rubbing your body cream onto your elbows.

“Ooo. You smell good. What is that?” Natasha asked you.

“It’s a body cream from that brand Sol De Janeiro. I’ve never used it before but it had good reviews.” You told her as you smelled your wrist to catch the scent again.

“Wow. It’s really nice.” She sniffed you again. “You smell like how Moana feels to watch.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. “But when did you watch Moana?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of luxury sunblock or every flower scented candle at Yankee Candle at once.” Wanda added.

“That description also works, thank you.” You nodded in agreement.

“That reminds me.” Natasha began. “I need to get a new perfume. I’ve become totally nose blind to mine and I can never tell-“

“Hey guys. Mmm. Something smells good. What is that?” Peter burst into the room suddenly full of energy while loudly sniffing the air. You smiled and waved at him and he immediately went over to you.

“It’s this one.” Wanda said and pointed to you. Peter put his hand on your back and stepped closer to you to taken whiff.

“Oh, yeah. It is you. You smell amazing.” He told you.

“Oh, thank you.” You laughed shyly. “It’s just my body cream.”

“God damn. It smells so good.” Peter gushed. “I’ve never smelled anything like that. What’s it called?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I could find out and tell you, though.” You offered.

“Yeah, sure. I probably wouldn’t use it because it smells like a woman angel that turned into a vanilla bean but I wouldn’t keep a jar around just to sniff. It smells amazing.” He insisted and moved close to you to inhale again.

“So you’ve said.” Natasha snorted and gave you a look. You gave her a confused look as Peter put his hands on your hips and nose right on your shoulder to smell you.

“Sorry. I just really love that scent. It makes me feel like that scene in Ratatouille.” Peter said.

“What scene?” You looked over your shoulder to ask him and tried not to scream over how he was holding you.

“When that guy eats the ratatouille.” He said simply. “Holy shit, L/n. You smell like a flower that was dipped in crystallized sugar and then rolled in fairy dust. I could smell you all day.”

Just then, Tony walked by and saw how close Peter was to you. He frowned when he heard Peter sniffing loudly and rolled up the magazine in his hand.

“Down boy. Bad. Off of her.” Tony said as he smacked Peter with the magazine.

“But she smells so good.” Peter whined.

“No. Bad. Bad boy.” Tony shook his head and continued hitting Peter with the magazine.

“Fine.” Peter grumbled. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You waved to him as he left the room. Once you were alone with the girls again, they looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“What?” You wondered.

“How long has that been going on?” Wanda asked you.

“How long has what been going on?”

“You and Peter.” Natasha replied.

“What? There’s nothing going on between me and Peter.” You forced a laugh and looked to the side.

“Well he clearly wants there to be something. I have not seen a boy that down bad since high school. Wait, how old are you guys again? 14?” Wanda asked.

“22.” You corrected. “And Peter is not down bad for me. I’m pretty sure he likes this girl from his school.”

“What’s her name?” Natasha asked.

“Liz.” You answered immediately. “I mean, I don’t know. Who cares?”

“Oh, so the crush is mutual?” Wanda nodded in understating.

“No. Nothing is mutual.” You scoffed. “This isn’t liberty.”

“Oh, you have it so bad.” Natasha laughed at how flustered you were getting.

“Nuh uh. Maybe you like Peter and you’re trying to deflect. Ever think about that?” You asked her.

“Right. I like a middle schooler who cries to Lana Del Ray on weeknights.” She answered sarcastically.

“She has very moving music.” You defended him.

“I think it’s cute that you guys like each other.” Wanda said. “And it makes total sense for you to be together. You’re the same age and have a similar lifestyle. Why not tell him how you feel?”

“Because I don’t like him.” You insisted. “And he doesn’t like me.”

“If he doesn’t like you then why was he just using you like a scratch and sniff?” Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe he just likes to sniff things.” You shrugged. “Maybe that’s his thing.”

“Or maybe you’re his thing.” Natasha replied.

“Do you really think he likes me?” You asked them hopefully.

“I always kinda thought he did.” Wanda admitted. “And After that disturbing encounter, there’s no doubt in my mind. He’s definitely into you.”

“Hm.” You hummed and thought about it. You’d always had a secret crush on him and he had no idea so maybe it was possible that he felt the same way about you without you ever realizing.

You spent the day thinking about what the girls had said. Your thinking was interrupted when Peter returned to your room that night and took a whiff of the air.

“Mm. Smells good in here.” He noted.

“I have a candle on. I mean, lit.” You corrected yourself and pointed to your candle.

“Don’t knock it over and burn your room down. That happened to Brittany Spears, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” You insisted. “I watch all the videos of her spinning in her living room.”

“Same.” He laughed. “What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“I was gonna go grab food. Would you want to-“

“Yes.” You said immediately. You felt embarrassed for answering so fast but Peter didn’t seem to mind.

“Cool. Let’s go.” He said and nodded towards the door.

Thirty minutes later, you were sitting on a bench outside of Delmar’s with sandwiches and bottles of ice tea. Peter picked the place and you followed his lead when ordering because he seemed like a regular.

“And why is it flat?” You asked him as he held up his squished sandwich.

“Because it tastes better the flatter it is, duh. Try it.” He insisted and gestured to your squished sandwich. You gave him a skeptical look before giving it a bite.

“Okay. You might be on to something.” You admitted once you had swallowed.

“Thank you. Every few years my brain lets me have one good idea.” Peter said as he happily chewed his sandwich.

“What was the good idea before this one?”

“Chips in my sandwich.”

“I see. And are these ideas always sandwich related?” You chuckled.

“Wait.” He gasped. “Yeah. They are.”

“Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe you’re a natural born sandwich maker.” You shrugged.

“Maybe I’m Jersey Mike.” He gasped even louder, making you laugh. People were looking but you were too excited to be there with him to care.

“I was gonna say you’re Jared from Subway but I think he’s a pedophile or something.” You told him.

“What? No way.” Peter scoffed and pulled out his phone to google it.

“Oh damn. You’re right.” He realized. “Wow. Even Jared from Subway is a bad guy? Is no one safe?”.

“I mean, you could really say any male celebrities name and there’s like a 50% chance he has charges against him.” You shrugged.

“That’s so true. My record is clean, by the way.” Peter told you. “Until my identity gets revealed. Then I’m looking at a lifetime of property damages and breaking and entering charges.”

“Oh, for me too. I have trespassed more times than I’ve actually been invited somewhere.” You answered. Peter laughed and then looked at you fondly for a minute. You grew self conscious under his gaze and nervously cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry. I keep getting distracted by your perfume.” He admitted. “I can’t get over how good it smells. You smell like the freaking sugarplum fairy.”

“Thank you. You smell good too.” You complicated and nudged him a little.

“That’s because I stole some of Mr. Starks super expensive cologne before we left. He called me to his room once just to show me the price tag on it. I thought it was his social security number at first. And the bottle is so small. I thought it was stupid to spend so much on such a tiny bottle but now that I’m wearing it I feel like I really want to fire someone.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever felt that feeling.”

“Me either. Until today. I smell like a whole different tax bracket right now and I don’t know if I can go back to my Axe Dark Temptation spray. I don’t want to smell like the bourgeois anymore.”

“Thats so funny.” You chuckled. “Do you always take his cologne?”

“Never. Just for today because I knew I was gonna ask you to hang out.” He said before taking a bite. You paused and sat with the implication that he did something just to impress you.

“I’m flattered to know you stole for me.” You said with a coy smile.

“Well you always smell amazing so I didn’t want you to think you were hanging out with some stinky rat.” Peter explained.

“I would never say that about you. I must say, you’re the best smelling rat I’ve been around.”

“Since we live in New York, I’m taking that as a compliment and letting it inflate my ego.” Peter warned you.

“Your ego must be pretty big already though, right? If I was a guy your age who looked like you did and could do the things you can do, I’d be super annoying about it. Like, raise my hand in class using two fingers and ask a question that’s just a roundabout way to show off how intelligent I am kind of annoying.”

“Looks like me? Can you elaborate on that, please, miss?” He asked with a cheeky smile.

“You know.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Giant muscles. Giant brown eyes. I don’t know much about spiders but giant something else, I’m guessing. That spider bite served you well.”

“Stop. I’m shy.” Peter laughed and covered his face with his hands

“Come on.” You groaned. “You have to know you’re cute.”

“My aunt says I’m a handsome little lad.” He said and batted his eyelashes to make you laugh.

“She’s right.” You laughed. “But seriously. If my arms looked like that I’d only wear tight white shirts and ridiculously skinny jeans. And obviously slick my hair back like a Greaser. A full Soda Pop Curtis, if you will.”

“Oh, so you’re an Outsiders fan? This is me trying to maintain a regular conversation while hoping my heart rate returns to normal after being bombarded with compliments, by the way.” Peter said with a rosy blush on his face.

“I love The Outsiders. I’m still chasing the high I felt when my teacher played the movie for us in 5th grade and Soda Pop came out of the shower in the beginning. I think all the girls in that room remember that moment. I haven’t felt that way since.”

“Really? Never?”

“Maybe once or twice.” You smiled fondly at him.

“Well, to answer your question, I am actually a total loser at school and have an ego the size of a walnut. No one knows I can do the things I can do so I’m just another goofy goober on campus.”

“How can you saw you’re a goober when you’ve probably saved the life of every person in your school? More than once I might add.”

“Because I didn’t do that stuff. Spiderman did.” He explained. “When I’m on campus, I’m just me. It’s the only way to protect my identity. I have to let all the credit go to someone else.”

“Okay, I get not taking credit to remain humble and anonymous and what not, but what about all the other cool stuff you can do? I’ve seen you move a refrigerator with ease and casually run a mile without breaking a sweat. How do you resist the urge to show off all the time?”

“Because I wasn’t some sports star before I was bitten so it would be highly suspicious if I showed up one day and started dunking on everyone and breaking their ankles and third sports term. I only want to use my abilities to help people. Not to get popular.” He shrugged. As he spoke, you felt your crush on him turned into full blown infactuation. You’d always liked him from afar but now that you were getting to know him, he was even better than you thought.

“You’re better than me. I’d be doing backflips down the hallway and climbing on the walls. And if I got in trouble, I’d just be like “remember when New York wasn’t taken over by aliens? You’re welcome, bitch.” And then I’d swing away and probably kiss a cheerleader. Maybe even two.” You told him.

“Uh uh. My powers have definitely not gotten me any kisses from cheerleaders.” He laughed and shook his head.

“So you don’t have a girlfriend or anything?” You asked and couldn’t help but smile.

“No. My roster is empty. And I wish I could blame that on the Spiderman stuff but I can’t. I’ve never been lucky in that department.”

“I don’t understand that. You’re so…” You trailed off when you realized you were about to say too much. Peter looked at you with a coy smile and raised his eyebrows.

“So?” He asked.

“So annoying.” You insisted. “And ugly, actually.”

Luckily, he understood that you were saying the opposite of what you meant and smiled in appreciation.

“What about you? You must have a boyfriend and 10 guys lined up ready to take his place the second he falters, right?”

“11 guys.” You corrected.

“Damn. I’m sorry. I should’ve known.” He said and held up his hands in defense.

“It’s okay. How could you have known? But, um, no. No boyfriend.” You told him and watched carefully for a reaction.

“So you don’t like anyone at your school?”

“Not at school, no.”

“Oh. So there is someone.” He smirked.

“There may or may not be a boy. But he likes someone else so it doesn’t even matter.” You waved your hand in dismissal.

“Does he know you like him?” Peter asked. Your knees and elbows were touching as you sat together on that bench. You couldn’t help but notice he had gotten closer and closer as you talked.

“No.” You replied as you stared into Peter’s eyes.

“That’s obviously why he likes someone else.” Peter insisted. “I guarantee that if he knew he had a chance with you, he’d forget all about that other girl.”

“I don’t know. Do you really think that?” You asked skeptically.

“Definitely. He’d be crazy not to go for someone so…” He trailed off to give you a taste of your own medicine.

“So?” You shook his arm to urge him to continue.

“Ugly.” He replied. “Really, really ugly. Not pretty at all. Definitely not funny or charming. And a stinky rat. And ugly, if I didn’t mention that before. Ghoul like, even.”

“Thank you.” You smiled warmly, knowing he meant the opposite of what he was saying.

“You’re very welcome.” He smiled back. “So when are we doing this again?”

You did it again the next night, this time at a food truck you liked, and then a few days after that. That’s when Peter started giving you his weekends. You started hanging out more and more and grew to be close friends in just a short time. You lived at home during the week and could look forward to Peter’s almost nightly visits while he was on parol just to sit in your window and talk to you. He was so so consistent that you started leaving your bedroom door open just for him.

“I’m here. Don’t be naked.” Peter said as he climbed through your window one evening.

“I just got out of the shower. What if I was naked? Then what?” You asked as you rubbed your body cream into your skin.

“Then we’d have a funny story to tell at parties.” He said as he pulled his mask off. You couldn’t help but smile at the way his messy curls stood up on his head.

“Oh yeah? And what’s so funny about me being naked?” You teased him as you squeezed the excess water out of your hair with a towel.

“That’s not the funny part. The funny part would have been when my eyes sprang out from my head on slinkies and made an audible “boing-oing-oing” sound. Right before my head exploded and left a smoking stump on my neck.” Peter told you, making you playfully roll your eyes.

“Oh wow. Very Tom and Jerry of you.” You chuckled.

“A full Tom and Jerry. The only thing missing would be the little blue birds and or angles flying around my head but I didn’t say that one because it’s typically reserved for traumatic head injuries.”

“You’re stupid.” You laughed and shook your head endearingly at him. Peter smiled back at you

“You’re stupid.” He chuckled. “You smell good.”

You really liked being friends with Peter. The more time you spent with Peter, the more you found you could talk to him about anything. He seemed so interested in every little thing you said. You worried your crush suddenly taking an extreme interest in you might be too good to be true, so you were determined to enjoy it while it lasted. And do far, it had lasted two months.

“Hey you two. Are you gonna be hungry…” Tony trailed off when he assessed the situation in front of him. You and Peter turned your heads when you heard Peter’s bedroom door open, giving Tony a full view of the green face masks you had covering your faces. You were sitting on Peter’s bed and applying masks to each others faces so your hands were full of the green goop as well. Tony looked back and forth between the two of you for a minute but eyes kept returning to the giant pink bow headband Peter had on to hold his hair back.

“Oh.” Tony nodded. “Hm. Okay.”

“Hi Mr. Stark.” Peter waved.

“I was gonna ask if you guys were hungry. But now I don’t know how to feel.” Tony said with a blank expression.

“We’re okay. We door dashed some food. Thank you, though.” You replied.

“No problem. Try not to have too much fun, ladies.” Tony snickered and closed the door.

“He doesn’t get us.” Peter rolled his eyes and smeared some of the face mask across your forehead. You smiled at the mention of “us” and stared into his eyes.

“He wishes he was gonna have clarified skin and minimized pores in 45 minutes.” You agreed.

“45 minutes? Oh shit. We should’ve brought snacks.”

“I can go grab some. I need to pee anyway.” You told him and hoped off his bed. You hit up the kitchen after the bathroom and raised the refrigerator for some snacks. When you shut the refrigerator door, Natasha was standing there watching you.

“So. Having another stay at home date with Peter?” She asked and pointed to your face mask.

“It’s not a date.” You rolled your eyes. “We’re just two friends hanging out.”

“Right. And do you share clothes with all of your friends or just the ones you don’t have feelings for?” She asked sarcastically.

“He wasn’t wearing my pants that day, okay?” You sighed. “He just asked me to embroider little molecules into his jeans and then wanted me to sign my name. Which is very normal for two friends to do.”

“So that’s not his sweatshirt you have on now?” Natasha asked and pointed to the Museum of Natural History hoodie you had on.

“It is. But-“

“But. Mm hm, yeah?” She cut you off with sarcastic interest in her voice.

“Yes, but.” You stated. “It’s too small on him now that the bite made him all big and muscly. But his uncle bought it for him and it was too sentimental to throw away so he let me have it.”

“Oh. So he gave you an article of clothing that his dead uncle gave to him? That’s very platonic of him.” Natasha said before cracking a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re implying.” You played dumb.

“I’m implying that you two are dating but pretending you’re not.”

“What?” You forced a laugh. “We are not dating.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone with that. Why don’t you just call a spade a spade and make out already?”

“Because it’s not a spade. Your mom’s a spade. We’re just friends.” You insisted and felt glad your face mask was covering up your embarrassed blush.

You went back to Peter’s room with the snacks and pushed Natasha’s comments from your mind. Peter could tell that something was bothering but he didn’t push it.

You spent the next few nights at home but headed back to the tower to spend the weekend. You knew Peter would be arriving later that night so you got ready in your room while you waited. You scrolled on your phone while you did your makeup and came across an article on the body cream you’d been wearing lately. You started to read it but got distracted by the sound of people in the downstairs. You left your room and took the elevator down to see if it was Peter, but found Wanda and Natasha instead.

“Oh, hey. I was just telling Nat I got that cream you told us about. It just smelled so good on you.” Wanda told you.

“Did you? Tell me what you think of it. It works really well but I think I have to stop wearing it. I was just reading online that apparently it attracts….” You trailed off and pulled out your phone to show Wanda the article. You got distracted by a text from Peter telling you that he had arrived. You furrowed your eyebrows and stared at the text as things started to make sense in your head.

“Attracts what?” Wanda asked you. You looked up to answer her but got distracted by Peter walking in.

“Spiders.” You told her as you stared at Peter.

“Hey, Y/n.” Peter greeted with a smile. “Come with me up to the roof. I have something to show you.”

Peter took your hand and started pulling you towards the elevators. You were still lost in thought but regained composure enough to look at the girls while you were being pulled away.

When you got to the roof, the sun was just beginning to sink into the city skyline, making for a peaceful atmosphere. There were some snacks set out and a sheet you recognized from Peter’s room.

“What’s this?” You turned to him to ask. He was already staring at you and watching carefully for a reaction.

“You said you’d been so busy with homework lately that you don’t even realize when it becomes night so I thought we could take a mental break together and watch the sunset.” Peter explained with a sheepish smile. You lit up when you heard his plan and forgot all about the article.

“You planned this for me?”

“I didn’t want you to work yourself to death. You’re gonna do fine on your finals. You’re the smartest person I know. Other than, like, the two super genius’s I know. But you’re definitely up there.” He assured you. You broke into a smile and threw your arms around him to thank him. He stumbled back a little a before wrapping his arms around you and hugging you back.

“Thanks, Peter. This is really sweet.” You said and pulled away just enough to look at him. You stayed with your arms wrapped around each other as the sun began to set around you.

“You’re very welcome.” He said with a fond smile. You stared into his eyes and felt his magnetic force pulling you towards him. Peter’s eyes dropped down to your lips before a rosy blush covered his face. You couldn’t believe what was about to happen was actually happening. He started to lean in and cracked a smile just before your lips could touch.

“God, you smell amazing.” He whispered to you. You snapped out of your trance and took a step back from him.

“Oh my God.” You gasped. “I knew it.”

“Wait, what? Knew what?” Peter forced a laugh and tried not to look as disappointed as he felt that the moment had ended.

“You don’t even like me. You’re just attracted to my delicious smelling body cream!” You shouted and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“Woah, what? I have been accused of so many things but that is truly a first.” Peter said and held up his hands in defense.

“I bet this whole thing was a set up just so that you could sniff me!” You gasped and pointed his picnic.

“What are you even talking about?” He matched your tone and pulled his hair in exasperation. You put your hand over your heart to catch your breath as you looked between him and his setup. Everything made sense now. Peter started talking to you the moment you opened up that jar of body cream. He only wanted to hang out with you once you started wearing it. And as you stood there on the roof with him and realized it never had anything to do with you, you felt gutted.

“I thought…I thought you liked me.” You said in a quiet voice as your face sank with disappointment. Peter turned red all the way to his ears and laughed in embarrassment.

“I do like you.” He said quietly.

“But not for me.” You shook your head. “For the way I smell.”

“What? That’s crazy?” He laughed is dismissal. You rolled up your sleeves and walked back over to him to hold your arm under his nose.

“You like this.” You told him.

“Damn, that smells good.” Peter whispered as he took in your scent.

“See? It’s my body cream. It attracts spider. Whatever is lingering in your DNA from the bite makes you attracted to this specific scent.” You grumbled as you pushed your sleeves back down.

“Huh. That explains why I got a boner in Sephora the other day.” He realized.

“Why were you in Sephora?”

“I was getting us more face masks. I even used your email so you could get the points.”

“You did?” You asked and cracked a smile. Peter looked at you sympathetically and took a step towards you.

“I had a whole night planned for us. I was gonna bring you up here to watch the sunset. And I brought snacks you like. Even disgusting Salt and Vinegar chips.”

“I love those.”

“I know you do, for some odd reason. And once the sun had set, I was gonna go downstairs with you to do the face makes. I got you a panda because you like them and mine looks like Hello Kitty, see?” Peter said and he pulled the masks out of his bag.

“Very impressive selection.”

“I know. Once we had them on, I was gonna tell you that you’re the only person I don’t feel like I need to wear a mask with. Or you’re the only person who makes me feel the way I do when I’m wearing my mask. In parenthesis, my Spiderman mask. Which implies you make me feel invincible. I don’t know. It was gonan be some mask related metaphor that I was hoping would come to me in the moment.”

“Why did you need a mask related metaphor?”

“So I could ease the tension and segway into telling you that I like you.” He admitted with a timid smile.

“You do?” You asked skeptically. Peter nodded his head and put his hands on your shoulders.

“I wouldn’t do all this for you just because I liked the way you smell. And believe me, I love the way you smell. If I could shrink you down using the Honey I Shrunk the Kids machine and shove you up my nose, I would. But I like a million other things about you too that don’t involve the olfactory bulb.”

“Then how come we only started hanging out once I started using the body cream?”

“Okay, I’ll admit, I got a whiff of the body cream and basically floating in the air down the hallway into your room like a cartoon pig being lead to a pie.” Peter prefaced. “But that was just the first time you wore it. It gave me the confidence to ask you to hang out which is something I’d been wanting to do since we met. And once we started hanging out and I learned all these new things about you, I liked you even more. Which I didn’t know was possible because I was already listening to Lana Del Ray and pretending you wrote the songs about me. When you started smelling divine, that was just the icing on an already big cake. I’m talking Cake Boss level size cake that’s mostly made of Rice Krispies and plastic tubes.”

“So now I’m divine? I thought I was ugly and not funny or charming at all.” You teased him as you stepped even closer.

“You’re right. I still find you very unattractive and don’t want to be your boyfriend and l definitely don’t want to kiss you-“

You cut him off by pulling him by the shirt into a kiss. He stopped talking immediately to kiss you back, putting his hands on your face to pull you closer.

“You smell so fucking good.” He growled and pulling you closer by the waist. You giggled against his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You and Peter eventually retired to the sheet to watch the rest of the sun set. You laid on his chest and listened to his heart beating while the scent of his cologne filled your nose. You went back downstairs hand in hand once the sky was dark and passed by Wanda in the living room.

“Goodnight, Wanda.” You smiled at her as you and Peter walked by.

“Goodnight.” She replied and waved her fingers. Peter stopped suddenly in his tracks and looked at Wanda.

“Woah.” He smiled. “You smell really good, Wanda. What do you have-“

“Oh, no you don’t.” You cut him off and pulled him by the back of his shirt away from her.

“It’s the cream.” Peter said in defeat. “I’m defenseless to the cream.”

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