#especially clothes i have so many things i need to get rid of and get the hell out of my house taking up space but the idea

[lucy90712]

Wearing his clothes- headcannon

Gavi:

- You are always wearing his jerseys 

- It doesn't matter if you are going to the game in person or just watching from home he always wants you wearing his jersey with his name on the back 

- His absolute favourite thing is seeing you watching from the stands and knowing that you have his name written on the back of your shirt it gives him extra motivation to play well just for you and it's even better when you wear one that he's actually worn in a game not just a spare one he gave you 

- This all started when you flew out to watch the supercopa final and because it was a last minute trip you didn't pack much so Gavi gave you the jersey he wore in the semi finals to wear to the game and of course it was one of his best performances so now he wants you wearing his jersey every minute of every game to give him good luck 

- He likes to see you wearing his clothes in general because it shows others that you are taken and when he's with you everyone gets to see that you are his and no one else can have you 

- You wearing his clothes helps with his protective and jealous nature as he feels like he's marking his territory when you are wearing his clothes you can easily shut down any advances from anyone else without question 

"What are you wearing to the game?" He asked 

"One of your jerseys just not sure which one" you reply 

"Let me pick one" he says

"This one the first one I ever gave you we need the extra luck tonight and knowing you’re wearing that will definitely spur me on" he says 

"Well if you want extra luck how about I wear one of your hoodies over the top it's going to be cold out" you say 

"You sure know the way to my heart" he smiles 

Pedri:

- You started wearing his clothes mostly to sleep in 

- It began when he was away for a while for the World Cup and you were feeling lonely so you stole one of his shirts to wear to bed as it made you feel closer to him even though he was so far away 

- You did it for a few nights until Pedri noticed while you were on FaceTime one night, to start with you get a bit shy about it but when he says he thinks it's cute you find getting caught less embarrassing 

- From then on you wear one of his shirts to bed every night and when he's home he will often pick one for you to wear so when you come out the shower you are greeted with one of his shirts laying on the bed for you ready to wear 

- When he knows he's going to be away for a few days he will pick a few shirts out for you and spray them with his cologne so that when you come to pick one they all smell like him as he knows you secretly love them more when they smell like him

- For a while you never wore his clothes out because there is far too many things you'd never want to be seen wearing but after some refining of his wardrobe to make his style a bit better you feel ok wearing his clothes out 

"Why are you getting rid of that I like that hoodie" he moans 

"Because it's ugly I can't steal this off you and leave the house or even look in a mirror so it's got to go" you reply 

"So the criteria is if you can wear it out" he questions

"You've got it now help me out" you say 

"But these are my clothes why can't I keep the things I like" he continues to complain 

"Because you're sense of style is atrocious and that's ok because I'm here to fix it trust me your followers will be thanking me especially for getting rid of all your skinny jeans" you laugh 

"Fine but I'm only letting you do this because I love you too much to stop you" he says 

Jude: 

- Jude loves when you wear his clothes 

- He loves it so much that when he goes shopping sometimes he buys things that he knows you will like even if they aren't necessarily something he really likes because he knows you'll look cute 

- There's just something about seeing you happily wear his clothes out and around the house which melts his heart the way you always have a big smile on your face when he sees you too makes it even better 

- Knowing that even though you two aren't fully public with your relationship but that you still wear his hoodies out to meet friends makes him feel all warm inside 

- His jackets are something you steal quite often as you like the look of wearing a nice outfit with one of his jackets which is very oversized on you and Jude has to admit it does look good on you if he could post a picture of you every time you steal one of his jackets then he would

- Jude often thinks that his clothes look better on you than they do on him maybe it's the way you style them or it's just because he thinks you look so cute in his clothes but either way there are some clothes he has surrendered to your possession as you objectively look better in them 

"I'm ready to go" you say running down the stairs 

"Oh wow you look amazing" Jude says 

"Thank you sorry I stole your jacket it just looked good with this outfit" you explain

"Honestly you can keep it it looks so much better on you than it ever does on me" he laughs while being deadly serious 

"Jude you can't keep giving me your clothes I don't need all of these" you say 

"Well I can't wear them again knowing they look better on you so you keep them plus I like seeing you in my clothes" he says 

Joao:

- For a while you didn't wear any of Joao's clothes because you didn't want to just steal them without asking and you were too nervous to ask him in case he thought you were weird for asking 

- You only started wearing his clothes when you went out to the beach one day he forgot to bring a coverup so he gave you his shirt to wear from then on you were brave enough to ask and after a while you just started wearing his clothes when you felt like it 

- The things you steal from him the most are accessories like sunglasses and hats which started because sometimes you forget to bring those things but now you don't even pretend to forget you just steal them from him 

- You don't even own a hat that's why you always steal his and he doesn't mind because he has quite the collection so he always has another one he can wear, sometimes it bothers him a bit when you make them smaller to fit your head and don't change it back as then they don't fit him but you don't do that often 

- His favourite part of you wearing his hats is that you often let him choose which one goes with your outfit he enjoys that because he likes getting you to try a few and see which ones look best and when you agree with his choice he feels validated as he always likes your sense of style 

- One thing he always does is bring an extra hoodie whenever you go anywhere together so that he can give it to you when you inevitably get cold he learnt the hard way to bring a second one as one time he didn't and then he was the one who was freezing cold 

"Here love I don't want you to get cold" he says handing you one of his hoodies 

"You are always so prepared aren't you" you laugh 

"Well when my girlfriend cares more about her outfit than bringing a jacket I have to be" he jokes 

"I don't care more about my outfit you always tell me I'll be fine and that it won't be that cold and then it always is" you argue 

"Ok maybe I do that sometimes but it makes me look like a good boyfriend if I give you one of my hoodies plus you always look good in them" he admits 

"Well if I look cute I can live with you lying to me" you say 

Hector: 

- Whenever he can't find one of his shirts or hoodies he always knows exactly where they are and he's yet to be wrong as he'll always find them at your place 

- To begin with it annoys him that you take his clothes without asking as he wants to wear them but when he realises you do it because you miss him and that you always wash and return them he doesn't mind quite so much 

- Once he realised that you do it because you miss him he tries to make sure he spends more time with you and when he can't he will purposely leave you with one of his hoodies so that you can wear it when you are missing him which he has noticed makes you so much happier 

- Over time his wardrobe becomes yours but it doesn't bother him like it used to as you don't steal his clothes all the time and you always return them the only time you keep his clothes is when he gives them to you 

- He always thinks you look good in his clothes but he loves it the most when you wear one of his shirts or hoodies with shorts while you walk around his place and he likes it even more when you don't have any makeup on as he thinks you are just so naturally beautiful even when you aren't trying 

- There is no way on earth he would ever take any of his clothes back from you even if he wanted to wear them because he knows it would break your heart and he can't have you thinking he doesn't like you stealing his stuff because secretly he loves it 

"Babe have you seen my blue hoodie?" He asks before turning round to see you wearing it 

"I'm sorry I should've asked before putting it on I can take it off if you want it" you say kind of embarrassed 

"No it's ok you look so gorgeous in it it makes your eyes pop" he says 

"Are you sure?" You ask 

"Yeah I'd rather look at you in it than wear it myself anyways" he says 

"Plus what kind of boyfriend would I be if I take my hoodie from you especially when you look so cozy" he laughs 

Marc:

- He absolutely loves when you wear his clothes to the point that he just gives them to you 

- It first started when you were sick and your family were out of town so he took on the role of taking care of you, he noticed that even though you were under a blanket you were still getting cold so he got you in one of his hoodies and some of his sweatpants which helped keep you warm 

- Now he always drops off some of his clothes whenever you aren't feeling your best even if you aren't sick and he just thinks you need a pick me up he will bring you some of his clothes so you can be cozy as that's always makes you feel better 

- Of course his clothes are all way too big for you but that only makes him love having you wear them more and you love how oversized everything is on you as its perfect for lounging around or cold days 

- For some reason he just loves how small you look wearing his clothes it just reminds him that you are a delicate being and that he wants to protect you at all costs, he's protective a lot of the time but if anyone tries to do anything to you while you are all cozy in his clothes it's over for them as it brings out a whole new level of protectiveness from him 

- He also likes to match with you there are some items he has two of so he can match with you or other times he will wear something similar so you two can sort of match 

"Wait babe you should wear my hoodie instead it will look good and we can be matching" he says 

"What's with you and us matching" you say 

"I just like being able to go places matching with my beautiful girlfriend because then people know your mine and they don't try to steal you from me" he explains 

"Well in that case I'll happily wear your hoodie especially if it makes you happy" you say 

"It very much makes me happy" he smiles as you put the hoodie on 

[makeyoumine69]

Possessive hurt-comfort sex with Patrick, please? HEAR ME OUT!😥🤤🤤💖💖

Heal Me

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x fem!Reader; CW: SMUT, unprotected sex, fingering, soft dirty talky, hurt/comfort, angst, sensual foreplay and something more, hehe. Links: [MASTERLIST]; Song Rec: Lady Gaga—Heal Me; A/N: It's been a while since I've written any prompts, I'll try to catch up with them since I have a lot of requests to finish. I hope you like this one and thank you so much for sending it in, I love possessive Patty!

It wasn't uncommon for you to be overwhelmed by life's problems because living in a busy city like New York wasn't easy, especially if you weren't from a rich family. But even in the darkest of days, you never gave up, even though it was hard not to when everything around you was pressing down on you. You struggled until one day you met a man who changed your life and even though there was something strange about him, he became your salvation and in some twisted way you hoped to repay him. However, you never really knew what he really needed. He was a total mess, but maybe you were too? But did you ever think that you would find comfort in the arms of a man who probably broke a million hearts and ruined just as many lives?

You asked yourself this question every time you crossed the threshold of the luxury apartment on the 11th floor of the American Gardens Building. But the answer to that question always got lost in the spiral of emotions that overtook you the moment Patrick touched you. The same scenario, the same place, but the specter of sensation he made you feel was limitless, you got addicted to it—you got addicted to him.

The softness of the perfectly white sheets met your naked skin with a familiar feeling, the silky touch of his hands sliding down your body was heavenly, leaving you craving for more, burning with anticipation. This man, he knew everything about you, while you seemed to know nothing about him. It was confusing, perplexing, but intriguing. Patrick Bateman was an enigma, a puzzle you desperately wanted to unravel.

"What's on your mind?" Patrick suddenly murmured above your ear, noticing your thoughtfulness. "You seem to be somewhere else, but not here..."

You huffed and pressed your palm against his soft cheek. "Nothing... nothing serious," you replied, leaning up to kiss him, but he stopped you, holding you down with both hands. "Hey! It's really nothing...I just had a fight with my family."

"Your family?"

"Yeah," you gave him a serious look, considering how cheeky he was grinning. "Sometimes people have fights with their family members. Can you believe that?"

Still smiling, Patrick straightened up a bit to unbutton his blue shirt with the white collar. "Honestly... no," he said nonchalantly. "Such things are too mundane for me. But I'll tell you this," the man unbuckled his belt and then pulled down his Armani pants. "When you're with me... I don't want you to think about anything or anyone else. Do you understand?"

Without waiting for your answer, which wouldn't really change anything, Bateman moved closer to your face to peck at your temple, his hands working to get rid of your remaining clothes. Slightly embarrassed, you let him position himself between your legs, his warm lips locking with yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless. Patrick savored your every reaction, from your shaky gasps to the way you writhed beneath him. His possession over you was bordering on obsession and he could never get enough of you. If he had to fuck you senseless to make your mind go blank, he would do it—neither of you had any doubts.

"Patrick... I need you..." you murmured against his swollen lips. "I need you s-so much."

Wrapping his hand around your neck, he pulled you closer. "You won't think about it anymore," he whispered, trailing his hand down your stomach right under the lace of your panties, playing with it to tease you. "Promise?" Bateman's thumb pressed against your clit, making you whimper. "Talk to me, doll."

You wanted to answer, you really did, but this man was nothing more than a torturer, reveling in the power he had over you—your desperation was like water to a thirsty man.

"I...I promise," you finally managed to answer, shaking from the friction Bateman caused as he pulled on your underwear, letting it rub agonizingly against your swollen pussy. "You're the only one...I can think about...a-ah!"

You arched your back as his long fingers pushed inside you effortlessly, your slick juices making a wet, lewd noise every time Patrick moved his digits, stimulating you right where you needed it.

"Fuck, you sound so sweet like that," he curled his fingers, scissoring your soaking cunt with masterful precision. "Life is too short to waste it on unnecessary emotions," Patrick crooned, sliding his free hand along your soft breast, playing with its hard peak. "But this..." he grinned when he heard your high-pitched moan. "This is worth living for."

This man was blessed with the ability to sweet talk, you could bet on that. "You...you devil," your voice wavered from the pleasure his fingers were giving you, each thrust inside you and pull on your nipple bringing you closer to the brink of ecstasy. "God...I have so many problems..."

Suddenly, your eyes shimmered with unwanted tears—such an abrupt change in your mood forced him to stop. Slightly confused, Bateman looked at you from under the brown, messy curls. For a moment, the two of you just stared into each other's eyes, as if trying to imprint this moment into your memories. Things wouldn't be the same for you, not anymore.

"Listen to me," his velvety baritone broke the silence, his fingers remaining deep inside you while his other hand found yours to intertwine your fingers. "Right now you just need to focus on me...on us," Patrick cooed to you before kissing away a single tear that ran down your cheek. "Forget the problems, I will take care of them."

"You don't have to."

"Shhh, sweetheart," he leaned closer to you, letting your noses brush against each other. "Remember your promise, leave the other things to me." 

For once in your life, you decided to do what he asked and just follow your instincts and let them take over. 

The air around you was so hot, electric with sexual tension and desire. When Patrick withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty, you couldn't help but wail in frustration, but it was only an introduction to the real act. Flustered and utterly aroused, Bateman sat on his knees before taking you with him, making you circle your legs around his waist as he whispered sweet praises in your ear. It was only when you felt his hard cock slip between your pussy lips that you realized you were completely lost in the blaze of passion and the uncontrollable willingness to give him all of you. With a slow but determined move, Patrick sheathed himself inside of you, hugging you tighter as he stood on his knees and pounded into you in deep and calculated strokes.

"A-awww," you mewled, clinging to his broad shoulders and hiding your face in the crook of his neck—the mixture of his expensive cologne and his natural scent making you nearly explode with overwhelming emotions. "Feels s-so good...you make me feel so good," you couldn't help but nip at his neck, leaving a red mark and causing him to fuck you harder. "Deeper...mmhm-please!"

Bateman made a guttural sound in response. "You think you can handle it?" You nodded your head so eagerly that you could see stars in front of your eyes. "God, you are such an insatiable little slut."

Without further ado, he changed your position so that you were now standing on your knees facing the white wall above his bed, where a statue stood in the ledge. That thing probably cost a fortune, it would be such a shame if it got broken in the middle of your ravenous lust, but Patrick seemed indifferent to that as he moved it a bit to the side and placed your hands on the edge of the ledge so you had something to grab onto.

"Hold on tight, baby." He sneered devilishly as he snuggled up to you from behind, showering your neck with little kisses. "No safe words since you asked for it."

Your breath hitched at the tight grip on your throat, the thrill of danger mixing with excitement in a wicked cocktail of pure madness. Being so strong, Bateman was able to wreck you like a doll, drawing you onto his thick cock with ease, forcing you to arch your back even more so that its tip could reach your most sensitive spot. You felt so helpless and small in his hands, the way his firm hips slammed into yours, practically fucking you into the wall, left you no choice but to surrender to this raw pleasure.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[alwayscorvus]

Do not forget your place

Do not forget your place - Part 1

bodyguard!malereader x Yuanwu, fluff, short;

a little bit angsty? But it's a good ending that matters, right?

How many years have you been his bodyguard? Five, ten…twenty?

It all started with that one session at his gym. At that time you were not the best, even pretty bad. Yuanwu, however, recognized something special in you.

And it wasn't about your torn, dirty clothes or the fact that you didn't have a single penny to pay.

Although that, indeed, was a big problem. Not for Yuanwu, he didn't care about money. But for you, for your pride. Ego.

Especially after the way he treated you so well.

You felt guilty for letting yourself get carried away with your emotions earlier. And for wanting to get rid of them, which led you to the ring.

You were no longer a teenager. In your opinion, you were far too old to be a trainee. Nevertheless, Yuanwu soothed your nerves over a cup of tea, provided a roof over your head, and eventually trained you. For a person he could entrust his life to.

It's not that Yuanwu needed a bodyguard. He was perfectly capable of protecting himself. Maybe even more than you. People in his position, however, were not suited for defending themselves. They could afford to hire someone to get their hands dirty.

Yuanwu was not fond of this idea, but he was not foolish either. He had to try really hard to keep being respected by others, in order to keep things in peace. "Maintain the stability." "Keep his hometown safe "*.

You heard a loud hoarse cough, which snapped you out of your thoughts.

Sight of your boss reappeared before you.

Elegantly dressed Yuanwu was sitting sideways to you on a white quilted couch. His longtime rival took a seat on opposite, simillar sofa. They were separated by a glass coffee table, with two cups of untouched tea. You stood straight, as the rest of bodyguards of both sides.

However, this was about to change.

Yuanwu's expression spoke by itself. At least to you.

In a split second you dashed forward. Shots rang out all around.

Yuanwu jumped up. And you felt a ripping pain of a bullet rubbing against your shoulder. Yuanwu was safe. But only for a moment. You had to get him out of there.

Your co-worker just collapsed onto a floor. Wounded by another weapon. Other took cover behind a pillar. And by great aiming, took revenge of his friend. Got rid of a bodyguard from an opposite side.

Yuanwu's rival was preparing for another attack. You grabbed your boss by his hand and rushed towards the door.

On your way, you had to push off another attacker. Struggle was brief. In a rush of adrenaline, you managed to dodge all his punches.

While you cleared the way, Yuanwu protected your back until you both were able to safely leave the building.

You ended up in a black alley, a few blocks away from a meeting spot and a few kilometers from home. Your hearts pounded like crazy. And breaths were raspy. You started screaming. About how stupid this idea was. About how he could have died.

-You know what they are like! It was obvious that they would attack you! And what if something had happened to you, huh?!

-Then I would die. And what? No one would care - he said with stern voice.

-Are you joking? Eveyone would care! I would care! -you uttered in a breaking voice.

Your emotions took control of you. Eyes turned glassy.

Yuanwu's expression wasn't helping. He looked at you terrified. As if your words and message behind them were much worse than todays events.

You looked at the man with hope. Seeking for support. Without thinking, you reached your hand towards him. You grasped his arm tightly.

You didn't know why you were so heartbroken. You have been in these situations many times. Even in much worse ones. But today-… After what he said-… You wanted him to finally understand that he really was important. That he had people around him who cared. That he had you.

Finally, you could become his support. The same that he has been for you for past years.

Yuanwu shook your hand off. Before you had time to react he turned on his heel and with a slow steps started to head towards an alley exit.

-It's better for us to go already.

-B-but-!

-Stop - he interrupted you. And you couldn't believe what was happening - Do not forget your place. You are just my bodyguard.

His voice was sharp, harsh and forceful. It hit you deep and greatly broke your heart.

You gripped your chest. You had to check if the pain was real.

-O-oh… okay... I understand-

Lie. You couldn't understand. All your shared memories passed before your eyes. Your trainings, walks. How you brewed tea or how you decorated your home together. Hours spent on talking.

Over the years, Yuanwu became your mentor, your friend, something more. On many occasions you joked around, gave hints. And you weren't the only one. It's true that man always quickly changed the subject. But he never openly showed his disapproval.

That hurt. Even though you were already mature and ready for a rejection.

But not in this way-

You understood that Yuanwu might not feel the same, might not approve it. But you would have given anything for him to accept your care. Even if only as from a friend.

But if that was his will, you had to accept it. Quickly you pulled yourself together. With a swift motion, you wiped away your tears and continued in a cold voice:

-Sorry.

Yuanwu stopped for a moment. It was as if this one word affected him more than the previous few. Nevertheless, you couldn't see his face. And you didn't even want to.

Chills ran through his body.

But your only goal now was to return home. His home.

*quotes from Yuanwu voicelines

[lancermylove]

Plant Allergy (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: All x Reader, platonic.

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Hello! I just read the headcanons that you are going to make and I noticed one that says "allergic to plants" and I would like you to make a headcanon for TWST of how the boys would react to finding out that their female friend Yuu is allergic to plants and what what they would do if someone exposed them to this (for example if they gave them flowers or even included a plant that especially affects them in their food, you know, sometimes it is done to give it flavor).

——————————————

Leona

Who needs plants when meat exists? Guess he can't call you an herbivore now.

Initially, Leona doesn't take the allergy too seriously as he thinks you are either joking or too sensitive. But when he sees you have an allergic region, he freaks out.

He always makes sure you don't get any gifts, food, or items with plants in them. The prince also uses his power and influence to ensure that no one else makes the mistake of exposing you to plants.

Leona even goes as far as not sleeping in the greenhouse, just in case the allergens transfer from his clothes to your body.

Ruggie

Awww, so you won't be able to try his dandelion tea? Ruggie is sad. Not really, but he tries not to laugh when you tell him you have a plant allergy.

He is not laughing at the fact you have an allergy but at the fact that you are allergic to plants. Ruggie didn't even know that was possible. How do you survive on NRC's campus with all the plants and trees around?

Just like Leona, he makes sure no one tries to play pranks on you, especially from Savanaclaw, using plants.

Jack

Does that mean you are allergic to his cacti? By what did they ever do to you? They are innocent!

He doesn't take your allergy seriously either since Jack had never heard of a plant allergy. But when he sees how badly plants affect you, he makes sure to double-check everything he sends to you.

If anyone dares to carelessly expose you to plants, Jack uses his strength or intimidating stature to scare the person into never repeating that mistake again.

Malleus

He doesn't question or doubt you in the slightest. As soon as you tell him, Malleus takes it very seriously. The last thing he wants is for you to have an allergy attack.

Sometimes, if he thinks you might need extra protection, the prince uses his magic to create a 'bubble' for you. That way, you can move around freely without worrying about allergens.

Malleus orders the students in Diasomnia to get rid of everything plant-related so you are safe in the dorm. The prince goes as far as to warn all his dorm members not to bring plants around you.

Lilia

He sympathizes with you, but at the same time, he likes to tease you. Lilia likes to stand a safe distance from you and wave a flower in the air just to see your reaction.

Like Malleus, he makes sure to let everyone know not to mess with your allergy. If they do, he will haunt them while they are awake and in their sleep.

His favorite gifts to give you are fake flowers. Lilia likes to see the panic in your face, followed by the relief when you realize they are fake. Most of all, Lilia likes it when you chase him around for his prank.

Sebek

What is a plant allergy? Sebek literally cannot comprehend that you are allergic to plants. It seems impossible, so he takes it as you joking with him.

He accidentally gives you food with plants, and when Sebek sees your allergic reaction, he panics. Since that day, he advocates for your safety. If anyone tries to come a mile of you with plants, he yells at them.

Sometimes, he takes things a little too far, and due to this, many students in NRC are afraid of being around you. They think Sebek will come out of nowhere and yell at them.

Silver

He feels bad for you. Nothing beats taking a nap in the woods with animals surrounding you, but sadly, you can't do that.

Silver takes your allergy very seriously and sits down with you to know what bothers you and what doesn't. He keeps that list with him at all times, along with a list of 'what to do' in case you have an allergic reaction.

He is one of the most responsible and considerate friends. When Silver is around you, you can be sure you won't suffer any allergy attacks.

Riddle

Plant allergy? Does that also include herbs, fruits, and vegetables? So you literally can't eat anything? Wait, does this also include cotton and plant fibers? So, you can't wear anything made of plants? His head is spinning.

He immediately implements a no-plants indoor policy in his dorm. That way, you can come and go without worrying about your allergens. Unfortunately, he can't do anything about the trees, bushes, and plants outside the dorm.

Riddle is very strict with reinforcing the no-plant or pranks on you policy, and Trey helps him with it.

Trey

Now he knows why you refused to join his club when he offered. Trey can't even begin to fathom how troublesome your allergies are. Plants are everywhere, in every corner, at every place. How exactly do you manage to avoid them?

At times, Trey worries about you and asks you to come over to Heartslabyul for certain meals. If he cooks for you, he can control every ingredient, but that won't be the case for the cafeteria food.

He is even more strict in reinforcing that no plants are brought indoors in the dorm when you are around; moreover, no students do anything to bother your allergies.

Cater

Confused. How did you manage to survive this far in your life? Literally, everything has something plant-related in it, from food to clothes to even houses. Either you are resilient or very lucky.

Cater goes straight to social media to spread awareness about this. In turn, he learns information about plant allergy and uses it to help you.

He even starts a campaign to replace all real flowers/plants placed indoors all around NRC to be replaced with fake ones.

Ace

"Does this mean I can't plant a kiss on your cheek?" Not funny? Ace thought you would laugh at his joke—at least, he thought it was funny.

But seriously? A plant allergy? That's real? He doesn't take it seriously until he sees you get an allergic reaction. Then, he realizes you were being serious. Since then, he hasn't questioned anyone if they say they are allergic to something, even if the allergy is unusual.

He always makes sure to check the gifts he gives you for anything plant-based. Ace secretly feels guilty for triggering your allergy and kinda won't forgive himself for it. But shhh, you don't need to know that.

Deuce

Being an honest and straightforward man, he takes everything at face value. So when you tell him you have a plant allergy, he is startled but doesn't question it.

Deuce is very protective of you and makes sure everything plant-based is kept miles away from you. He even carries extra masks and medicines in case you suffer any type of attack. Moreover, he has the school nurse on speed dial in case you get hurt in any way.

If anyone tries to purposely aggravate your allergy, Deuce will initiate his gangsta mode and say hi to their faces with his fist.

Vil

He takes your allergy very seriously, as Vil values beauty and health above all.

If your allergies cause a physical reaction, Vil will research and create a lotion that will help your skin recover. If you have an internal reaction, Vil will work with some students to create a potion that could help to reduce the effects of the allergens on your body.

He even goes out of his way to find you skin/beauty products that don't have plants in them, so you don't have to worry about putting something on your skin that could potentially hurt you.

Rook

Mon Dieu, the horrors of not being able to smell the divine fragrance of flowers. How can you survive such a life? Rook's heart weeps for you.

He has the most dramatic reaction when you tell him with a poetic monologue that lasts for a few minutes. Luckily for you, Vil is around and tells him to stop.

Rook uses his tracking and hunting skills to learn which environments are safe for you through the campus. If you go near any dangerous environments, you can be sure one of Rook's arrows will fly in front of you, carrying a warning note.

Epel

Then are you allergic to apples? No apples or apple juice?

He even asks his grandmother if there is a cure for it. But even his grandmother is surprised by the allergy information.

Epel has to take a moment to recall if he had done something to trigger your allergies in the past. Maybe he shouldn't have sent you the apple juice? That didn't give you a reaction, right? RIGHT?

He is more careful now and checks everything before giving it to you. Sometimes, Epel even texts you to make sure something is okay to give to you. He may be a little TOO careful.

Idia/Ortho

He has a lot of knowledge about many things, but plant allergy is something Idia was not familiar with. However, thanks to Ortho's program, he got all the information he needed.

If you ever get an allergy attack in Idia's presence, he will panic. Thankfully, Ortho has a built-in protocol that will give help you get back to normal. He even carries allergy meds/pens to be fully prepared.

In his free time, Idia develops a device that allows him to monitor your allergy levels and the potential threats that lurk around you in any environment.

If you ever want to be around plants, Idia will gladly create a virtual world for you so that you can enjoy nature without side effects.

Kalim

Allergic to plants? Then, what do you eat? How do you go on walks? You can't smell the fragrant scent of flowers? Kalim is very sad that you cannot enjoy the simple things in life without worrying about your allergies.

He suggests moving to his homeland. The desert barely has any trees, and his servants will make sure you are taken care of. Did he just indirectly propose to you? Maybe. Not even he knows.

Kalim isn't as careful with your allergy because he has moments when he forgets. For this reason, he always carries allergy meds/pens with him just in case you get a reaction from his carelessness.

Jamil

He has never heard of anyone having plant allergy but doesn't doubt you. Jamil knows not to mess with health and has no plans of messing with yours.

In fact, he talks to the ghost chef and asks the kitchen staff to label the foods with potential allergens. That will not only protect you but also the other students who have allergies.

During his free time, Jamil tries to use his knowledge to brew something that could help entirely diminish your allergy. But then, he realizes that brewing potions also requires plants.

Azul

Allergic to plants? Maybe he could make a business out of his by creating items that are made plant-free in every way. You just gave him a great idea.

Azul makes sure Octavinelle is a safe house for you so that you can come by anytime without worrying about your allergens. He has also warned the workers in Mostro Lounge not to mess with your food and to be careful when serving you.

It's not that Azul doesn't trust Floyd, but if the eel is having one of his mood swings, Azul worries that he might not be paying attention to what he is cooking and accidentally feeds you something plant-based.

Jade

At least you are not allergic to mushrooms. Right? Keeps his mushroom collection far away from you, just in case.

Jade is unfazed by your allergy and doesn't question it. One of the only students who handles your revelation with calmness.

Though he doesn't show it outright, Jades worries about you and invites you to Octavinelle quite often. At least with the underwater theme, you won't be exposed to plants. Wait, are you also allergic to seaweed...and sea plants?

He is curious but not enough to experiment with you.

Floyd

He can't decide whether to be concerned, laugh, or be fascinated. Never once did he think something like a plant allergy existed. Just when Floyd thought humans couldn't get any more delicate, you proved him wrong.

Though he doesn't grasp the concept of allergies at first, Floyd learns through trial and error. This means you have to deal with him accidentally doing things to aggravate your allergies. But then, he will never repeat that mistake again.

However, when you come to Mostro Lounge to eat, Floyd always takes extra precautions and prepares food for you in a separate pan/pot so that you can enjoy your meal without worrying about your allergies.

And if anyone tries to play around with your allergies, Floyd will constrict them. No questions asked.

———————————————

➣ Twisted Wonderland [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open ➣ HC/Scenario Requests: Closed || Quick Ask Requests: Closed || GIF Requests: Closed

[ratatoast]

Son coeur est le tien

Alastor x Reader qpr (general headcanons)

a/n: halfway through writing this, i realised that maybe my idea of a qpr might be different than someone else's haha,,, also, this is the very first time I've written for hazbin hotel lol (and should i mention that english isn't my first language? haha)

that being said, i hope y'all enjoy this mess :P

also also if y'all would like me to continue writing Alastor qpr (cuz there's def a shortage on that), feel free to send me prompts :)) i obvi wont write nsfw, but other than that, i think anything is fine (?)

Being in a qpr with the radio demon would include…

Long talks over tea/coffee

There’s never any awkward silence between the two of you. You two could be chatting about the most mundane things, and the conversation would still flow perfectly.

He’d definitely learn exactly how you like your hot beverage.

I personally can’t imagine him being an avid coffee drinker tbh, but I don’t think he’d mind if you are one.

Takes your tea parties very seriously, knows all your favourite pastries, puts on some smooth jazz, brings out the fine china, etc

Loves listening to you talking about your day, your current interests, hobbies, etc. Even if the topic itself isn’t all that interesting to him, he’ll still listen to you.

The both of you love gossiping with each other. Neither of you will admit it to others though.

Petnames

You very rarely hear your given name come out of this man’s mouth.

He never calls you anything that he deems too sickly sweet, usually sticks to dear, sweetheart, or darling.

If he’s having a particularly great day, he might call you love, but that doesn’t happen very often.

Constant praises & words of affirmation

I think words of affirmation is one of his main love languages.

He constantly showers you with praises, telling you how gorgeous you look, how witty your jokes are, etc.

We all know that this man is a charmer, however his compliments to you are more than just empty words… most of the time :p

Do keep in mind that this man is a master manipulator tho, so he isn't above using sweet talk to get what he wants.

Playful banter that keeps you on your toes

He loves a good back and forth, especially if his darling is a particularly witty individual.

The two of you can turn any conversation into a battle of words.

However, if you take it too far, he’s not afraid to put you in your place with a couple of sharp words, aimed to hurt.

But most of the time it’s just good fun :)

Never having to so much as lift a finger

He’s very big on acts of service.

Forget about opening doors or pulling out chairs for yourself.

He takes being a gentleman very seriously, especially when it comes to you.

But not only is he a gentleman, he’s also a powerful overlord.

So if you ever need anything, be that a new pair of shoes, or getting rid of a particularly nasty demon, consider it done.

Being his closest confidant

We all know that Alastor has many acquaintances, however he falls short on meaningful connections.

He doesn’t let people get too close to him, and it is sort of understandable why.

You are one of the only exceptions to that.

You know more about this man than all of hell combined.

It took a while for him to open up to you, and even longer until he started telling you about his past.

He’s the kind to drop hints about himself and let you figure out the rest.

Trust goes a long way with him, I think he’d be more open to sharing his plans and such with someone that he knows won’t question his every move.

Even so, there’s still a lot that you don’t know about him, but you’ll just have to take what you can.

You can dress however you want… as long as it fits his taste

He’s not all too picky about what you wear.

Contrary to popular belief, he wouldn’t expect you to be in full glam 24/7.

If you like more revealing clothes, well, he’ll just have to make sure that anyone that dares to as much as look at you the wrong way is taken care of.

That being said, looking well put together is a must.

You represent him in a way, and he expects you to look the part.

He can’t have you wandering the streets of hell in rags that not even the lowest sinners would wear.

Absolutely no modern technology allowed

Do I even need to explain this?

He’d rather be safe than sorry when it comes to the possibility of Vox messing with you.

You are never truly alone

Alastor would make sure to accompany you on your outings as much as his schedule allows it.

But let’s be real, he’s a very busy man.

He makes sure that a few of his shadows keep an eye on you though, even in his absence.

I don’t think your personal strength matters in this case, as I’ve mentioned before, there’s very little that this man wouldn’t do for you, especially when it comes to your personal safety.

Lets you get closer to him than anyone else

This time, I’m talking about physical closeness.

We all know that he isn’t big on physical touch.

However, I feel like you could get away with a lot more than others.

When the two of you are walking somewhere, it’s not unusual for him to offer you his arm.

When you’re standing next to him, he sometimes rests his hand on your back, although that is often a subconscious thing.

If you’re having a particularly rough day, he isn’t too opposed to letting you hug him.

You can also get away with laying on his lap sometimes, and if he’s feeling exceptionally gracious, he might even pet your hair.

PDA is definitely a big no-no, on one hand he has an image to protect, but I also just don’t think he’d be too comfortable with showing his more vulnerable side in public.

As for kisses… if you haven’t seen each other in a while, he might greet you with a kiss on your hand, but that’s as far as it ever goes.

He’s not a very touchy-feely person, so if that bothers you… good luck finding someone better than the radio demon ;)

me af tbh lmao

anway, thanks for reading pookies mwah (slash platonic lol)

[citrus-writing]

Hisoka touches darling because he likes her fear and disgust towards him sooo

How would he react if reader starts to reciprocate his feelings? Everything will go according to darling's plan and he will lose interest? Or is it not so easy to get rid of Hisoka’s obsession?

Thank you so much for the request! It actually inspired me so much I wrote a second hisoka thing on a similar topic, so you can look forward to that after I post this one! 

Hisoka, like many yanderes, is hard to get rid of. He’s got his sights set on you, and now that you're in his clutches he isn't eager to let you go, no matter what you do. Especially not now that you lean into his hands so eagerly. 

tw: suggestive, implied non-con

------

You’ve fallen for him with time, slowly seeing him less as a captor and more as a boyfriend, a lover, the only lover you need. In your eyes, he’s stopped being creepy and started being handsome, attractive in a way that makes you feel strange. Like your thoughts are something to be ashamed of, something treacherous against the very nature of the situation you’re in. because even with your strange and unwelcome thoughts, it doesnt change the fact that hisoka is prone to take more than you’re comfortable with. 

He’s always got his hands on you. strong yet deft fingers curled around the skin of your shoulders, nails digging in slightly to the soft skin of your collar bone. Long elegant fingers pressed into your hips as his fingertips seek out the hollow points of your hips bones. When you're facing away from him he’ll come up behind you, pressing his body to your back and letting his tongue slide along the shell of your ear. 

Sometimes he doesn't stop there, sometimes he wants more of you, letting his hands dip below your clothes to wander the skin, letting his tongue slide down your neck as he places kisses and bites to your skin. He moans at the taste, and you shiver from the sound, which only serves to spur him on further.  

It’s unwelcome, invasive in a way that makes your skin crawl, and it makes you shake in fear when his hands come into contact with your body. No matter how much you fight it, or beg him not to, he’s always touching you. Maybe he even likes knowing you dislike it so much. That’s why you hatch up the plan that you do, that you’ll willingly entertain his touches in hopes he’ll get bored. 

You lean into his hands when he touches you, and he does like that, even if some part of him misses when you would flinch and shake from his presence alone. You smile when he does, and you laugh when he laughs. You’re almost an echo of him, so often sharing in his moods- and maybe it’s to try to spare yourself his wrath- it was wise to try to avoid punishments, as the scars on your body remind you. 

Everytime you see one of the thin little scars on your skin you’re reminded of the sharpened playing cards he’d so easily used to break your skin and leave you bleeding. You’re reminded of the way his eyes shone, the way his lips curved up into a predatory smile. 

Hisoka isn’t swayed away from touching you at all, he loves the feeling of your skin on his, he adores the look in your eyes when he manages to make you shy. So when you willingly and eagerly press into his touch, he’s elated. He tries not to let it show, but you can't miss the way his lips curve up into a smile when you seek out his touch. 

No, it does not dissuade him from touching you, in fact, when his darling decides to take a risk in letting him touch them freely, he becomes insatiable. Now that you’ve allowed him free roam of your perfect body, he won't settle for limited access again- so don't try to fight him on this, or you’ll regret it. 

Just let him have his fun, afterall, he always makes it worth your while.

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 10-Defeated

Damian sat at his desk and briefly scanned the files of the new departments he was overlooking. One of them was the art department, which he was greatful for. The only thing that bothered him was the fashion department. He didn't agree that it was art. It was business. Clothing was a necessity, not a luxury. Clothes could be sold in stores. Art was meant to be displayed and shared. The Wayne heir scanned the file again.

'Head of fashion department was listed as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm sure I can get rid of her and move the department. Nothing will get in Damian Al Ghul-Wayne's way.'

The Wayne heir approached the fashion department. He saw the office door open and observed the inside. There was a small woman with blue hair drawing on a tablet. He could see a gown forming under the movement of her stylus. Damian stood tall as he knocked on the open office door, but she never turned around.

'Brat.'

"Miss Dupain-Cheng!" he shouted.

To his surprise, the designer slammed her hand down on her desk and glared at him.

"You made me mess up." she snarled, "Who the fuck so you think you are to come in here and bother me?"

This wasn't the type of meeting he had been expecting at all.

"Damian Wayne." he answered, not use to people glaring at him, "I wanted to inform you that I will personally be keeping an eye on the department and see if it's truly necessary."

"Fine." Marinette snapped, "There's the door. I'm busy; you can show yourself out."

Marinette turned back to her tablet and began ignoring him, again. Damian couldn't believe that she didn't get scared by his name. She talked back to him! Damian walked out and slammed the office door.

'What a horrible person. I'm not just gonna get rid of her; I'm gonna fire her entire department! I'll just exploit her weaknesses and show that she's incompitent at her job.'

Marinette had noticed that Damian taking to lurking around her department. He had inserted himself into meetings and questioned everything: Is what you're buying necessary? How could it help Wayne Enterprise? Why did you choose this fabric? Why this shade? Why not vermouth?

It had been six months and she was ready to punch him. Mari had heard rumors that he was starting to neglect other departments he was covering. She couldn't understand his fascination and distaste for hers. After another grueling meeting, everything came to a head.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng, I highly suggest rereading the code of conduct." Damian stated, in front of the entire department.

Marinette could feel everyone's eyes on her, "And what have I done now, Mr. Wayne? I don't believe 'bow down' is a rule."

"Your behavior and attire are innapropriate in the work place." Damian commented, irked that she still went against his authority.

"Excuse me?" Mari shouted, "I am completely professional!"

Damian snorted, "You regularly seduce your staff."

"I wish." someone whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Mr. Wayne," Marinette spoke, "please, tell me how my business attire is innapropriate so that I may correct it."

Marinette knew she had him this time. She still made all her own clothing and inspected them the day before for any rip or loose seams. She wore button up blouses with short sleeves and a blazer. She made sure to wear pants as she didn't want to kneel in a skirt. Was this about her heels? Sure she didn't wear four inches like everyone else; she preferred something that was easy to move in. Especially if something had gone wrong and she needed to hurry to the other sde of Wayne Enterprise.

Damian's eyes roamed over Marinette. Her clothes were the same as they had been for the last six months, they hugged her curves. When she took off her blazer, he could see how her neck curved, especially when her hair was puled up in a messy bun or ponytail. He had seen her hair that way, too many times, when she was busy designing. Not to mention how her pants accentuated her when she yelled at an employee for ordering the wrong fabric. Those stupid tops that she crossed her arms under her chest when someone contradicted her.

"Well, Mr. Wayne." Marinette called out, "I'm waiting. Tell me which part of my outfit is the problem, right now. I'm buttoned up and tucked in. My pants go all the way down to my ankles or are my ankles distracting someone? I certainly can't be distracting someone with a foot fetish, as I don't wear anything open-toed. There are many more employees, here at Wayne Enterprise, that dress provocative."

"Are you sure?" the Wayne heir questioned.

"I can name five ladies on this floor alone!" Marinette growled, "Two are wearing corsets with a blazer. Another is in a mini skirt and if she sits, you can see the garter straps. Another is wearing the same outfit as yesterday and reeks of cigarettes, sweat, nd bad cologne. The last one is wearing last seasons Belmere cocktail dress with tulle bishop sleeves! Thy are sewing a collection and if that sleeve gets caught, we have to destroy that fabric and her sleeves will be ripped off. I am not losing product because someone decided to be stupid this morning, Carol!"

Marinette glared at Damian Wayne, "So, tell me how innapropriate I am or you can fuck off!"

"The clothes you wear demean you and suggest you are welcoming others to join you for a night." Damian stated.

Marinette felt all the rage bubble over and she punched him in the face, sending him across the floor.

"I quit!" she snarled.

Damian looked on as Marinette walked away.

'I won.'

What he didn't expect were the not so hushed whispers of the fashion department.

"I think Mr. Wayne had a crush on her."

"I wish she would seduce me."

"You and me both."

"Apparently, she was very popular in Paris with both genders."

"Wait, what?"

"Really?"

"I heard she dated Jagged Stone's only son."

"Wasn't Adrien Agreste trying to date her?"

"So was Zoe Lee."

"The actress!"

"Mmhmm and she's the second daughter of Style Queen."

"Damn! Why is she here then?"

"She could have gone with one of them and likely inherited a fashion label!"

"Marinette always yells at us when we dress innapropriate."

"Carol."

"I pushed my sleeves up, okay!"

"I think she wrote this years dress code herself."

"I wish that I could see what Mr. Wayne saw."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding me? Stuck up Dupain-Cheng as some sexy thing and not yelling a us? Talk about a perfect fantasy!"

Damian sat there blushing as the employees talked amongst themselves.

'Did no one really see what I saw? They hadn't seen the way her clothes accentuated her? They didn't see the way her body called out to others? Was I the only one who wanted to pin her down to gain control?'

Damian stood up, admitting defeat. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the person who irked him for months, hadn't been at war with him or seducing him; he liked her. He couldn't tell until the evidence was stacked against him. As the other employees said, she didn't even need to be there. She could marry into money, likely immediately, and run a corporation against them.

'She's not going to get away from me that easily.'

By the time Damian found Marinette, Tim was already on his knees begging her to stay and his father was apologizing about his attitude.

"I can personally guarantee that Damian will be moved departments and you never have to see him again." his own father pleaded.

Tim noticed Damian out of the corner of his eye and stood up.

"You!" Tim shouted, stalking over to his younger brother, "What the hell? Marinette is dressed perfectly fine for her job!"

"Please reconsider, Miss Dupain-Cheng." Bruce spoke.

"I will work from my own home." Mari stated, "I will come to the office only for meetings; everything else will be paper trailed through emails and run by one of you."

"That is perfectly doable." Bruce answered, "We can send any equipment you need and-"

"I have everything already."

Damian looked on confused. He had never known them to suck up this badly, not even to board members.

"You don't even know who she is; do you?" Tim exclaimed.

"An employee by the name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng." Damian answered.

Bruce sighed. Apparently his son had never read her file and background information as to why she was the head of her own department.

"She is Jagged Stone's personal and exclusive designer." Tim snarled, "She designs for many different celebrities world wide. She is known throughout Paris! You can obviously see why we wanted her here."

Damian had no clue that the she was that well known or that his family was that desperate to have her.

"What can we get you to continue to work here?" Bruce questioned, "We can pay you how ever much you want."

"I'll bump your salary to $65,000 a design." Tim offered.

Marinette shook her head, "I only want one thing and I want Damian Wayne to apologize to me."

"80,000 a design!" Tim quickly shouted.

Damian could clearly see his family was horrified. They had zero faith he would apologize or admit his mistake. Damian swallowed his pride and bowed down, as he would to his mother.

"My apologies for making my own personal assumptions." He began, "They were baseless and you truly did nothing wrong. It was my own assumption that you were attempting to seduce me that caused this."

Marinette's cheeks turned red as she listened to his in shock.

"My parents did not conceive me naturally. My mother drugged Father. I was raised and taught by her, from an early age, that women will use any means necessary to seduce who they value as someone of interest; even wear revealing clothes. They will cling to those they desire. They will feign innocence when confronted." Damian continued, "I only observed what I was told, but my family is alos correct. Your clothing is appropriate for the work place. You have never touched me inappropriately. You also have never tried to suede me. You treated me as everyone else in your department and yet-"

Damian was smacked upside the head by Tim. Damian turned to glare at him, but when he looked up, she saw Marinette covering her face with her hands and her ears were bright red.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng?" Damian spoke softly.

Marinette looked between her fingers at him, nervously.

"Miss Duapin-Cheng?" Bruce questioned, cautiously.

"I-I don't understand how-how you can like me." She stammered.

"Well, for one thing, you have a killer right hook." Damian stated.

Out of all the things, he could have answered, that was not one of them. Marinette began laughing and her hands fell away from her blushing face.

The Wayne heir smirked, "I'm also not use to people telling me to 'fuck off'."

Marinette snorted as she thought back to the first day they met. Bruce and Tim nodded as they slowly made their way away from the young adults.

"Everyone back to work." Bruce commanded, "If I see this online, I'll personally make sure whoever posted it, is fired."

The fashion department was quick to get back to work, leaving Damian Wayne to confess to their blushing designer.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events@animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[grandlinedreams]

For my 100 followers milestone, I give you this!! Buckle up this sucker is 3.4k lmao

[heads up!: grim reaper!Law, slow burn, angst, fluff]

The day Law meets you, it's because you almost die. 

It's a cold winter day, the sun pale and bright against the gray of sky ㅡ and the iced over pond is too much of a temptation to ignore.

You're wearing a heavy coat, one that helps keep the bitter chill from your skin save for your lips and nose ㅡ how very ironic that it's your coat that almost kills you. 

Places like this are always buzzing with the energy of potential tragedy ㅡ even with the watchful eye of parents and loved ones, misfortune still has a way of happening.

The ice, for one, is far too thin to bear the weight of so many feet, made thinner in spots for what meager warmth the sun does provide.

It's one of those spots that you happen upon, located on the other end of the pond, away from your friends. The ice doesn't so much crack as dissolve, frigid water up to your knee as your balance is lost and sends you into the water entirely.

Dark and cold, water soaks your clothing quickly ㅡ including the heavy winter coat you've got around you. It drags you down,  thrashing made harder for the frozen ache of your muscles ㅡ and the cloud of bubbles that explode from your mouth as your lungs burn. 

And then there's a hand snagging into the back of your coat and hauling you up, not unlike a housecat ㅡ and you're on the frosty bank, coughing blindly until you vomit foamy pond water into the mud. 

"You shouldn't play around places like this," an unfamiliar voice tells you, striking you hard between the shoulder blades to elicit another wave of pond water and watery-eyed hacking. "You could die."

You gasp raggedly, clawing at the ground to work yourself further from the embankment, then focus on your rescuer. All you can make out is a shock of dark hair and golden eyes ㅡ and then your name, being shouted with increasing alarm. 

"You were lucky," the stranger says. "Next time, it won't be like that." 

By the time your friends have made it to you and have called for an ambulance, the stranger has vanished ㅡ leaving you with nothing but the frosty air and a brush with death.

 ㅡ

Law isn't sure why he'd saved you that winter day. He can fall back on the fact it hadn't been your time, but that doesn't account for the fact that now, he's watching you.

Call it curiosity or perhaps morbid fascination, there's a pull that drives Law towards you. It shouldn't interfere with his work, of course, because nothing ever does ㅡ but then suddenly, you do. 

He doesn't know if saving you has allowed something of a supernatural ability to rub off on you where you're aware of his presence ㅡ but the knack that you have for stepping in and messing with the intended order of things is both alarming and annoying. 

The older lady he'd been sent to collect from an unattended heart attack? Somehow, you manage to call an ambulance in time and save her life after she collapses in the middle of an aisle in the grocery store.

Then there's the guy you save from an unfortunate end via the business end of a knife following an altercation at a bar ㅡ tempers diffused and the proper authorities called, he scowls as another of his intended targets walks away. 

There are two or three more after that ㅡ and each time, he swears that you spot him, staring at him with a tiny, self-satisfied smile that drives him crazy.

He doesn't have time for this, damn it. (He actually does, but there are things that have to run on a schedule ㅡ and you're messing with the natural order.)

He needs to get rid of you. 

Cruel? Yes, especially given the fact that he's already saved you once ㅡ but he can't just let you run amok like this. He knows what will happen if he does ㅡ they'll send someone else to handle you, and he doesn't want that. 

So he ends up following you at a distance as you make your way home. Again, he thinks himself inconspicuous enough to not warrant attention ㅡ but by the third time that you turn around, he can tell that you've spotted him.

"If you're trying to stalk me, you're terrible at it. Come on out, I'm unarmed."

"I'm not trying to stalk you," he says flatly, "and telling someone that is hardly a good idea. Are you trying to get killed?"

Ironic, coming from him. 

There's that smile of yours, the one that makes Law think you're laughing at him. "Isn't that why you're here?"

He blinks. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

You roll your eyes. "I saw you, that day I almost drowned." You shift to tug your sleeve up, exposing your arm. "You left me with a souvenir."

The skin of your forearm is gnarled like the scar tissue of a burn, several shades darker than the rest ㅡ and in the shape of a hand. You pull your sleeve down. "There's one on my back, too. But ever since that day, I've been able to see the border between life and death." Your eyes lock with his. "And you."

This is bad. Very bad. Though he'd assumed you were able to see him, having you confirm it only makes this situation so much worse. If the others find out about this ㅡ 

A couple of things happen in rapid succession. The light turns green as you step off of the sidewalk onto the crossway, a car whips around the corner on a straight trajectory towards you ㅡ and Law snags his hand into the back of your shirt and yanks you back as the car breezes past where you'd just been standing. 

And for the second time, Law saves your life. 

                                ㅡ

You invite death into your apartment. 

It's a strange sentence to be sure, but death is far less imposing when it takes the shape of a man who wears a hat modeled after a snow leopard. 

"Would you like something to drink?" You're nothing if not polite, though you tip your head as you eye Law with no small amount of amusement. "Or do you need things like that?"

Law is less amused than you, golden eyes sharp as he stares. "We need to talk. This isn't a matter to be taken lightly." 

"Of course not," you say, and he watches as you pull a pitcher of water from the fridge and pour a glass, then pour a second. "Serious talk makes me thirsty, though."

Law takes the glass that you offer him, but he doesn't drink from it as he watches you cross the room to seat yourself in a battered, well-loved ottoman. He waits a moment, then seats himself on the couch when you raise an eyebrow.

"Let me get the obvious out of the way," he begins, "you shouldn't be able to see me."

You stare. "I thought we made that clear from this," you say, gesturing to your arm. When his gaze lingers, you shrug. "It doesn't hurt, if that's what you're wondering."

"I wasn't."

Your lips curve against your water glass. "You're so kind." His eyes narrow, and you sigh. "Okay, so I shouldn't be able to see you. What else should I know?"

"That what you're doing is dangerous."

You look away. "I don't know what you mean."

Law scowls. "Don't play stupid with me. You know that you're messing with the natural order of things, don't you?"

The casual way that you shrug annoys Law further. "I think everyone deserves a second chance, don't you?" 

He glares. "No. And if they did, you already used your second chance. What would you call that narrow miss with the car?"

You watch him, the upward curve of your lips that he hates so much. "I call that luck," you answer. 

ㅡ 

Corazon is waiting for him outside your apartment. He towers, a contradiction for the makeup he wears and the shroud of feathers, the lazy curl of smoke from a cigarette between his lips. (He enjoys smoking while in human form. Law has never understood, but he doesn't question it.)

"There you are." Cora turns towards him as he approaches, his eyes flicking to the apartment behind him. "Never thought you'd be one toㅡ"

"It's not like that," Law counters before Cora can make some dumb insinuation. He debates for a moment before he sighs as Cora raises an eyebrow in question.

"Then what is it like? You never interact with humans."

Law's teeth grit. This is all your fault. If you'd stop getting in his way, if he'd just let you drown ㅡ he huffs, kicking at a loose chunk of pavement before he looks up at Cora. "Fine. I'll tell you."

Whatever Cora had been expecting, what Law tells him is far from it by the way the older reaper's eyes widen. And then he laughs. Long and loud until he's doubled over, and Law scowls.

"I don't see what's so funny, Cora."

"All of that is," Cora wheezes, swinging a hand to your apartment before he wipes mirth-born tears from his eyes. "I never thought I'd see the day you had a crush on a human."

"I do not have a crush." Cora gives him a knowing look that only pisses Law off further as his eyes flash.

"Sure you don't," Cora humors him, though it's clear the older reaper doesn't believe him. Calmed down, he sucks on the cigarette, the end of it flaring before he exhales a long stream of smoke. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

This time there's some warning to Cora's tone, reminding Law that he can't get into deep, reminding him of what and who he is.

"I do."

                                 ㅡ 

Law has no idea what he's doing. 

"Have you ever been to a bar?" You're laughing at him again with that smile of yours, head propped on your arm as you drum a tempo on the table with your other hand.

Around you there's nothing but noise ㅡ tinny music playing from speakers set in the corners of the rafters, televisions broadcasting various sports ㅡ and of course, drunk people. 

"No," Law finally answers, studying the din around him with no small amount of annoyance, "I haven't." 

This time you laugh outright, then take a sip of your drink ㅡ and Law does his best not to follow the work of your throat as you swallow. "Alright then, what does death do for fun?"

There are a thousand things Law could tell you. That he's not the only reaper around, that he'd been warned not to do things like this with someone like you. That he should've let you die the several chances he's had to make it happen.

He doesn't. Instead, he lets his eyes linger on your face, trace your features, tread the dangerous water of interest as he has the last few weeks. 

"I don't know," he answers, "but it definitely isn't this."

ㅡ

There are so many ways that Law can kill you. They're everywhere that he looks, and yet he can't bring himself to do it. Instead, he lets you chatter away, lips curving despite himself.

Maybe you're not quite as annoying as he'd thought ㅡ but as his eyes drift to the plush of your lips before darting away, his brow furrows.  Not just annoying ㅡ you're dangerous.

Dangerous because you've been touched by death, dangerous because you get in his way, dangerous because all he wants is to kiss you.

It's your abrupt stop that makes Law almost collide with you and he takes a step back, lips parting to ask what the problem is ㅡ and then he stops.

"Cora," he says, feels your eyes on him as he stares at the man a few feet away from you both. 

"What a nice little jaunt," Cora says, head tilting as he watches the way you reach for Law's hand ㅡ and the way Law doesn't stop you despite the danger of it. "I think we need to have a talk. All three of us."

ㅡ 

Corazon "Cora" is a reaper.

You know that much ㅡ you can see it, the dark shroud that silhouettes him like it does with Law. 

As for what he's doing here, that remains a mystery to you. But from the way Law tenses as Cora talks to him, you can guess that it probably isn't good.

You stand nearby idly, pretending that you can't hear your own name being tossed around, mostly from Law who corrects Cora's careless usage of "that human". You have a horrible feeling that Law's getting into trouble for the last few weeks, and for before, when he'd saved you.

Why had he? Surely he hadn't had to ㅡ he could have let you drown and that be it. None of this. 

Law finally approaches you, and you watch him carefully, trying to glean what their conversation had been about by the look on his face. But his expression is carefully blank, unreadable as he reaches you. "What did he say?"

"Nothing that you need to worry about," he answers, and your eyes narrow before you pull away from him and dart towards Cora. "[Name]!"

"What did you say to him?" You demand and Cora blinks, studying you for a moment. "You guys were talking for a while, so spit it out. What did you say?"

He doesn't have to answer you. Cora knows that, that he owes you absolutely nothing ㅡ but his eyes flick to Law, who's staring at you. This is for your own good, kid. 

"I told him what would happen if he kept this up with you." He pauses to light a cigarette, and you watch the little flame waver.

"And what exactly would happen?"

Cora sighs. "If the higher ups found out about it, they'd strip him of his powers."

Your gaze doesn't waver, boring holes into him. He sort of understands Law's fascination with you ㅡ even without the touch of death, you're an odd one. "And without his powers?"

Smoke curls towards the sky, ghostly tendrils that curl before they disappear. "He'd cease to exist. Reapers are nothing without their powers."

You look back to Law, who's watching you ㅡ and your brow furrows. He wants to say this is nothing? "Is this because of me?"

Cora could lie, but he doesn't. "Yes."

Your fingers curl into fists, aware of the shiny skin of your forearm, the patch between your shoulder blades. "What if he killed me?"

"He won't. I already suggested that."

Your eyes lock with Cora's, unwavering. "What if a different reaper did?"

ㅡ 

Law doesn't like that you're talking to Cora. He doesn't like that the other reaper won't leave and let him face the repercussions of his actions as he wants to. He knows Cora has told you, can see it in the tension of your body, the way you look at him. 

When you return, Law knows something is wrong. "What did you talk about?"

Instead of answering, you wind your arms around him, pressing into him. The pressure should be comforting, but Law tenses, trying to squirm out of your grip. "[Name], answer me."

"Cora told me the truth." He stills. "Were you really just going to keep me in the dark about it?" He feels your hands fist at his back. "You're an idiot."

He knows that. He doesn't care. "What's done is done," he answers. "I'm simply facing the consequences."

"Stupid." You pull away from him and blink, and he reaches to swipe his thumb beneath your eyes. 

"Crying? Really?"

You pull away completely, scrubbing at your eyes. He expects you to call him an idiot again, demand to go home, to talk about what's next ㅡ but you don't. Instead, you exhale slowly. "I'm sorry."

Law blinks, brow furrowing. "About what?"

"This," you sweep your arm out. "You should be in trouble because of me." He wants to protest that he did it of his own volition, that you hadn't forced his hand in any of it ㅡ and then with a jolt, he realizes that Cora hasn't left.

"[Name]," Law starts, "what did you do?"

"I'm cleaning up my mess," you say firmly, "I'm not going to let you get your powers stripped because of me. So Cora and I made a deal." 

Law doesn't have to ask what kind of deal it was, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. His eyes narrow, anger and hurt clashing. "So dying is an easier solution?"

"It is," you tell him, rigid in your resolve. "It's what should have happened in the first place, Law." 

He hates this. Hates that this is how it ends, that you look so at peace with your decision. You approach him again, reaching to stroke his cheek ㅡ and he leans into your touch. "Don't be sad," you tell him, "I'm annoying, remember?"

His eyes close. "No you're not."

You huff a soft laugh. "See, you're a softie after all." You pull away, and his cheek feels colder than it ever has. "Maybe we'll meet again someday. Do this the right way."

The likelihood of that is slim, next to nothing ㅡ but Law lets himself indulge in the idea of it anyway. "Yeah," he answers, "maybe."

ㅡ

Law doesn't get to see you go.

You'd made it clear that you didn't want him to see, didn't want him to watch you die. "You spent too much time making sure I didn't," you tell him, "feels like it'd be a copout if you did it again."

He can't argue that, because he knows he would. You both do. That he'd defy his orders over and over, let you live a little longer again and again.

Maybe he shouldn't have saved you from drowning in that pond. (He's glad he did.)

Law has seen a thousand and thousands mortals die and will see thousands and thousands more, but yours is the one that actually hurts. 

Cora warned him. He warned Law, and he didn't listen ㅡ and now he's paying for it. But it'd been you who'd chosen to leave him ㅡ even though it'd been to protect him. 

Idiot, he thinks, but it lacks any bite. Much as he loathes it because it's a very human emotion, he misses you. 

(Not like he'd ever admit it.) 

"Law." He looks up to find Cora approaching, a look on his face that automatically makes him wary. "I have a gift for you."

Law's eyes narrow. "I don't want it."

Cora's head tilts, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Are you sure? Because I'm sure you'll like this one."

There's someone standing beside Cora. The dark robes draped around them says that it's a new reaper ㅡ and Law resists the urge to roll his eyes. Cora's been oddly insistent that he take on a protege ㅡ perhaps he's not been as adept at hiding how your death affected him as he thinks he's been. 

"I'll leave you two to get acquainted," Cora says, patting the new reaper on the shoulder before he heads back the way he'd come. Law sighs, then shifts his attention to the newbie. 

"First off, you don't need the hood up. It's a dumb stereotype." He looks away, mentally questioning if he has the energy for someone to hang off his every word.

There's a soft laugh, strangely familiar ㅡ and then an even more familiar voice. "And here I thought it gave me a mysterious charm."

Law freezes, then turns as the newbie yanks down the hood. It's you. For a second, Law thinks he's hallucinating ㅡ but you're smiling that frustrating, irritating, beautiful smile of yours.

"Surprise," you say, rocking on your heels. "This was part of the deal that Cora and I made."

"You're a reaper too," he says, and you nod before you hold your arms out and do a small spin, making the robes flare.

"What do you think? I think it suits me." Law approaches, grabs a fistful of fabric and pulls ㅡ and finally, finally, gets to kiss you the way he wants to. 

You blink dazedly when he pulls away, and he smirks. "You said that maybe we could do this the right way someday," he tells you. "I intend to hold you to that."

You smile. "Fine by me."

[bluebeary-jay]

CONGRATS!!! 1000 FOLLOWERS IS SO AWESOME AND I'M HAPPY FOR YOU!!🥰🩷

For the celebration I'm thinking Joel has lived in Jackson for months and has a bad reputation so people mostly avoid him and he always keeps to himself. BUT reader is the exception, always with a big smile and really polite to him (and he has a terrible crush on her). She always sees him alone at the bar looking around and seeming dislocated and decides to ask him "may I have this dance" cause she likes him too, but he panic and refuses. Later he realizes he's missing his chance with her and tries to fix it. Just some nice fluff (with age gap please🙏)

HIIIII SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT NONNIE

(okay so I'm back-ish, I apologize to everyone for disappearing but i had a rough couple of weeks and had to deal with a lot of stuff. i actually finished this fic some time ago but didn't have strength to post it but i'm more ready now so here you go <3 i hope you'll like it, i had a lot of fun writing it!! and thank you for requesting!! love you 🥰)

Joel Miller was a recluse. Everyone knew that, though not many were aware that he didn’t exactly choose this kind of life for himself.

He really hoped that things would get better after he settled down in Jackson with Ellie, but the residents of the town made it very clear that they didn’t want his company. It stung a little, especially since Joel didn’t think he gave them any reason to be wary of him, but he hid his hurt well. With time he got used to nasty whispers, people giving him a wide berth and basically everyone but Tommy and Ellie avoiding him. It was unpleasant, sure, but he learned to just deal with it.

Well, there was also you.

Joel had no clue what your deal was. Why you weren’t shying away from him like your fellow peers and why you went out of your way to always catch him into a conversation or smile at him whenever you saw him.

“I think she’s crushin’ on ya,” Tommy told him once during a dinner at his house. Ellie and Maria weren’t present, the latter showing the teen some clothes she might want – and thank fuck for that. Joel would murder his little brother if he said such nonsense in their presence.

“The hell you’re talkin’ about?” he spluttered, his eyebrows furrowed when Tommy sent him a smug, knowing grin. The question was completely unnecessary, of course, since they were already talking about you, but still Joel hoped he somehow misinterpreted his brother’s words.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Joel.” He sprawled out on the chair, still with that stupid smirk. “I really think she’s into you. I’d ask her out if I were you.”

“There’s no… I assure you she isn’t.”

“But if she was–”

“She’s not. Now can I eat my meal in peace?” Joel placed his hands on the table, but Tommy shook his head.

“But you like her, right? She’s nice.”

Joel sighed. “Yeah, she is.”

“And pretty.”

That Joel didn’t fall for. He glared at his brother.

“Jesus, Tommy, let me have it. I’m lucky she even wants to talk to me, with all her friends tellin’ her I’m bad news and me being half her age older.”

His eyes became solemn and voice took a lower, quieter tone, which told Tommy the matter was hitting Joel harder than he let on. He sat up straight, getting rid of the teasing smile.

“Alrigh’. Sorry for bringin’ it up.” Joel sighed and nodded, signifying that everything was okay. “I just want you to be happy, y’know. Maybe you should give yourself a chance.”

The older Miller didn’t answer and took a big swig of whiskey out of his glass.

The problem was, he didn’t need Tommy to tell him all that. Joel would have to be blind and stupid not to notice how breathtakingly beautiful you are, and this, combined with your intelligence, passion and sense of humor, was his ultimate undoing. Every time he talked with you, it was all he could do to hide the redness in his cheeks and the weakness in his knees.

But he did. ‘Cause, let’s be real – even though Joel recognized he had a terrible crush on you (though it took him weeks to make peace with this fact) he knew there was no way in hell you’d find him even a fraction as attractive as he found you. He was almost twice your age,  for heaven’s sake, and such a young, gorgeous woman as you would never agree to throw her life away to be with an old man.

But God knew that with each day you broke down his walls, the desire to kiss you was becoming more and more agonizing. Every smile you sent his way worked only to feed his imagination of how soft your lips would surely be if he could only brush his thumb across it, not to mention touch them with his own. He wondered how your hands, so much smaller than his calloused ones, would feel on his stomach or shoulders. How it would be to embrace you with his arms, skin to skin and without any layers in-between.

Those were not the thoughts he should be having, especially in public – yet here he was, several days after his conversation with Tommy, imagining impossible while he watched you laughing on the dance floor with your friend. You looked so carefree, so happy and full of life, your energy only reminding Joel sourly of his own old age.

He noticed you glancing his way several times throughout the evening but he knew it didn’t mean anything, it would never mean anything other than your innocent friendliness. So he just quickly looked away lest you realize he was staring.

Joel took a swing from his glass and looked around the bar, trying to take his mind off you – fruitlessly. His eyes still darted back to you every few seconds, involuntarily roaming over your exposed skin visible under the nice outfit you picked for tonight. It was driving Joel insane with longing and need, and all he could think of was the mental image of how kissing and touching you gently would feel like.

Bet you’d feel so perfect under his palms.

He closed his eyes and propped up his forehead on his fist, trying to tune out the music and all the distracting background noises.

Keep it together. 

He had to remember that he was way too old to be this enamored with a young, pretty girl like you. You would surely be repulsed if you had any clue about what was going on in his head, and some of the thoughts he had–

Then, Joel felt a light touch on his shoulder and lo and behold – there you were, standing right in front of him with a bright smile, as if summoned by his thoughts.

“Hi,” you said, tilting your head in that endearing way that made his insides tighten. “What are you doing here alone, cowboy?”

Joel prayed that he wasn’t blushing, though his hope diminished increasingly when your eyes wandered curiously across his features. Your eyebrows rose slightly and he cursed internally.

Fuck, you were so beautiful.

“M’not…” He cleared his throat and started again. “M’waitin’ for Tommy. He had to sort somethin’ out with… uh, someone.” He drummed his fingers against the table but stopped immediately, not wanting to give you an impression that the conversation with you was boring him. “You don’t have to do it, darlin’.”

You gave him a puzzled look, and he explained. “Y’know. Hang out with me. The people like to talk nasty things and I don’t wanna expose you to that.”

“It doesn’t bother me.” You shrugged with a sweet smile which Joel could kill for just to see it one more time. “And I… enjoy spending time with you.“

It didn’t mean anythin’. You were just bein’ friendly.

But even though he kept repeating it to himself like a mantra, Joel could not take his eyes off you. You were a vision – your profile bathed in the soft lights of the bar, your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked over your shoulder, deep in thought, at the stereo tower. The current song’s notes died down and a new one, much slower and romantic, started to play. You took a deep breath and let out a nervous laugh. “Actually I wanted to ask you something. If you don’t mind.”

“Ask away, darlin’.” He offered you a small smile, hoping to put you at ease, and you wetted your lips – which nearly gave him a heart attack and caused him to almost miss your next words.

“May I have this dance?”

Joel’s world stopped for a moment. He was in the middle of lifting the glass of whiskey to his lips but his muscles stiffened and the tumbler slipped out of his cold fingers. It didn’t shatter, but the rich liquid spilled all over the table. Your eyes flickered to the overturned glass, but Joel didn’t pay it any mind, too stunned to look at anything else but you.

“C-come again?” he stuttered, his voice strained and small. In the corner of his eye he noticed people at the next table glancing their way, alarmed by the noise, but he forced his attention back to you.

“This is my favorite song,” you explained shyly, an adorable blush spreading across your cheeks and neck. “So… may I have this dance, Joel?”

Now the people sitting around them definitely heard that, because they started smirking and whispering, and one person went to another group standing nearby on the dance floor. Joel felt his own face growing hot as he watched them pointing not-so-discreetly in his direction.

It was like the most wonderful dream and the most horrible nightmare come true at the same time.

He couldn’t do it. There was no way, not in front of all the people of Jackson who hated and despised him. He didn’t want to give them a show to gossip about or worse, subject you to their disdain.

But you still stood in front of his chair with an innocent, hopeful smile, though you started to shuffle the longer Joel was silent. The song – your favorite, supposedly – was passing in the background but you kept waiting patiently for an answer to your question.

He had to come up with something. Or just explain to you that he doesn’t dance – the sweet little thing you were, you’d probably understand and not pressure him into doing it. At least he hoped so.

C’mon, say somethin’.

“No.”

Your face fell instantly and Joel’s eyes widened at the mortifying realization of what just came out of his mouth.

Anythin’ but THAT.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds in the silence of the bar before your eyes started to glisten and you averted your gaze. Someone to Joel’s left snickered derisively and in the next second whispers erupted all around you two. You seemed to shrink in yourself, embarrassment and regret marking your beautiful face, and Joel’s heart almost broke when a tear slipped from your eye, and then another one fell down your other cheek.

“Okay,” you murmured, wiping the treacherous tears quickly and keeping your gaze trained on the floor. “Sorry. Sorry.”

You turned on your heel and went to exit the establishment, your step gradually turning into a run when the giggles and whispers around you became louder. The door swung open on the winter wind and just like that, you were gone.

Then all eyes turned to Joel – and the shame Joel felt increased at least tenfold.

He saw Tommy standing up and walking toward him from the other side of the room with worry written all over his face, but Joel didn’t stick around to hear what he had to say. He stood up and left through the same door you did, glaring threateningly at anyone stupid enough to still snicker at the situation they witnessed.

Ten minutes later Joel was standing in front of your door, trying to keep his knocking below the ‘desperate’ level.

He realized that he had to tell you. He intended to keep the feelings he harbored for you bottled up for the rest of his life but you needed to know the reason why he turned you down. You needed to hear from him that he cared about you, that it wasn’t some malicious act toward you but sheer cowardice stemming from the problem that he was madly in love with you.

“Hello? It’s… it’s Joel,” he choked out through his tight throat as he knocked again, a little louder this time. “Darlin’, can I talk to you?”

No response came, though he saw the lights in your house were on, and Joel had to take a deeper breath to calm his nerves. He prayed that he hadn’t completely screwed it up, but for now all the evidence spoke against him.

You wanted to dance with him. You gathered your courage just to ask him for a dance and he said no.

Joel knew he lost his chance. He lost you. You were his only friend in town and he somehow managed to fuck everything up with just one word.

He was so lost in his wallowing in despair that he almost missed the door opening slightly. In the gap of the doorway he caught a glimpse of your iris – and though it was only for a split second, Joel could clearly see that your eye was red. A pang of guilt pierced his chest but once you saw it was him, you shut the door again.

“No, darlin’, please. Please, just let me explain.” A wave of desperation and fear threatened to drown him and Joel’s heart clenched in his chest. “I’m so sorry, I acted like an asshole but I never wanted to hurt you, I just… I-I panicked.”

He was babbling, not even knowing if you were still there on the other side of the door, but the desperate and remorseful words were spilling out of him like a waterfall.

“I’m so sorry. Sweetheart…” Joel sighed, putting his hand on the cold wood of the door and listening for a couple of seconds, but there was no sound coming from inside. “Please. I’m beggin’ you, open the door.”

Then he heard something – a sound like blowing one’s nose. Joel froze for one, two… three seconds, and nearly collapsed in relief when you unlocked the door.

“You can come in,” you said, but didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re probably freezing, no?”

Joel nodded, feeling his throat going dry at the sorrowful sight of you. He crossed the threshold, closing the front door quietly behind him and looked you over. You hadn’t changed out of that pretty outfit of yours yet, although it was now covered by a long cardigan that you draped over your shoulders. In your hand you held a crumpled tissue but quickly pocketed it when Joel’s eyes fell on it.

He opened his mouth with a sharp inhale but before he could apologize, you beat him to it.

“I’m sorry for that,” you blurted out and glanced up at him but quickly looked down at the floor again. “I shouldn’t have asked you to dance in front of all those people and I overreacted because then everyone was looking at me… Look, it wasn’t even that big of a deal so don’t read into it. Everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he said softly and you pressed your lips into a thin line. “You have nothin’ to apologize for. I’m sorry for embarrassin’ you. I panicked ‘cause I–”

“It’s fine,” you muttered again. “Just forget it.”

“I can’t. Listen, sweetheart, I panicked ‘cause I wish I could let myself read into it.”

Your head snapped up and Joel swallowed heavily, realizing how stupid that sounded.

“What I mean–” Fuck, he really was shit at talking so openly about these stuff. “I… I have feelings for ya. Had ‘em for a long time now but I never planned on actin’ on ‘em ‘cause I know I’m too old and you’d never…”

“You’re… really?” you asked with wide eyes, but he tuned your words out, fearing that you were going to kick him out at any second.

“I’m only tellin’ you all this ‘cause I need you to know I care about ya and I didn’t say ‘no’ outta malice or… or ‘cause I don’t like you. I do. Too much, I’m afraid.”

You were staring at him, mouth agape and silent. Joel didn’t move, awaiting your reaction – whether you tell him to get out or scream how disgusting he was, he was going to take it. And then, if you never want to see him again, he’ll accept it. One day. But he doubted his heart would ever recover.

“Let me fix it,” he begged, his voice just above a whisper when you didn’t give any reaction to his confession. “Please, darlin’.”

Your eyes skimmed over his face as you hummed to yourself, almost irritably calm. Joel swallowed, the weight of guilt and anticipation pulling him down – and he was ready to fall to his knees before you when finally you lifted your hand to brush his lower lip with your fingertips, so delicately he could barely feel it. He froze and tried not to breathe, not wanting to cause you to pull away.

“I noticed something when you were rambling,” you said with a hint of reflection. Joel had no idea what was happening or why were you acting that way, but he daren’t move. He briefly entertained a thought that he was dreaming, but then his attention got caught by the sight of the corner of your lips twitching slightly, as if you were keeping yourself from laughing.

His chest expanded with hope so strong, it was almost unbearably painful.

“What is it?” he forced himself to speak, the nerves making his voice weak and raspy.

“Your accent gets heavier when you’re nervous,” you mused, as though to yourself, now trailing your fingertips down his stubbly cheek. “It’s cute.”

His heart lurched at your words. You gazed up at him and absently bit your lip, which Joel found downright sinful.

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to gather the courage to make the first move?” Your words were bitter, but there was a trace of relief in your voice. Joel let your fingers wander across the lines of his jaw and cheekbones, wishing he had enough boldness to touch you like that, too, but suddenly, your hand stilled and your eyes met his again. “Did you mean it? The things you said?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, his own fingers twitching as he restrained himself from reaching for you. His head was spinning, trying to comprehend the meaning of your actions and words. “But do you–”

You touched his lips lightly again, silencing his question, and your features slowly were overtaken by a large, bright smile, which seemed to lift all the heavy weight of worry from Joel’s shoulders.

“You wanted to fix it, right?” you asked in a teasing whisper. He nodded. “Then just ask me.”

You weren’t angry. You weren’t pulling away.

You wanted to dance with him and you gathered the courage to do so, and now Joel had to do the same. He couldn’t waste this second chance you gave him.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards and he exhaled shakily.

“May I have this dance?”

You pursed your lips to hide your joy and side-eyed him, but your eyes were sparkling with playfulness. “You know, I think I should respond the same way you did. Just to be fair.”

“Sweetheart, don’t play with this old man’s heart,” he whispered and smiled shyly when you giggled at the exasperation but also uncertainty in his voice. Joel still felt kind of out of it, too stunned to trust his mind that this was really happening – but the sound of your laughter brought him right back to Earth, to the place he wanted to be more than anywhere else.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight, Miller.” You took his hand and brought it to your hip, making Joel’s breath hitch in his throat and cheeks grow warm. His reaction didn’t get past you, and you smiled at him so radiantly that his world started to spin. Then your arms wrapped around his neck and you pressed your body against his. “But you’ll have some atoning to do.”

His throat was dry, but Joel returned your shy smile, stepping to the side and guiding you carefully to the thumping rhythm of his heart.

And a couple of minutes later, after more hushed apologies and assurances during your slow-dancing, Joel placed his hand on your cheek, almost letting out a relieved whimper when you nuzzled your face into his palm.

And after another few minutes went by, when he leaned in and you didn’t stop his lips from meeting yours, he knew he was a goner.

He couldn’t get rid of the big smile on his face – perhaps the first real one since arriving in Jackson all those months ago.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave you (Pt.53)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A snippet of the future- a flash forward- in which you and jimin reach an agreement.

Tags: Pleasure dom Jimin, pillow princess m/c, oral (f. receiving), fingering, pussy spanking, excessive squirting, knotting, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Breeding kink, Jimin gets a little mean once he tastes her slick, slick-drunk minnie, talks of safe words but no safeword usage, talks of gender and sex, murder, talking ill of the dead, assassin! jimin, implied autistic! jimin, Flash Forwards, intentionally vague moments, brief mention of mommy/daddy kink, brief talks of clothing control

W/c: 10.0k

A/N: please be patient with me regarding the rut chapter ie the chapter after this one! i’m visiting my brother next week in LA so!!! please recommend me some stuff to do in la! i’m hoping it’s going to be a restful trip but ngl…it’s not looking great…. i don’t like planning things that other people are going to potentially not enjoy 😠 i’m meant to be a passenger princess threw and threw

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

(Flash Forward, 6 days after Namjoon’s rut, Jimin)

Jimin lays out the plastic sheeting with a ripple. Making sure it covers most of the corners and the baseboards of the back room of the house. Taking more effort than usual not to be messy.

It would look normal to anyone else as you watch him work from the hallway. But you have a lurch in your stomach as Jimin fucks with the plastic, making sure it lies flat. 

Jimin setting out plastic sheeting would look totally normal to you if you didn’t have an inkling of all the other times he’s probably done it. How many times has he watched blood and viscera soak plastic? How many times has he melted it after at high heat to destroy DNA evidence?

You watch him work, feeling like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t.

But today, if you happen to have an accident and drip paint onto the floor, Yoongi will refinish them anyways. You’re just glad you’re not painting the sunroom red. 

That's the plan for the day. Primer, paint rollers, the whole shebang. They litter the 10 x 10 room like fallen soldiers. At this point, you've helped Yoongi paint just about every room in the house. This will be the last one for a little while. 

The sunroom at the end of the hall is the last unfinished room in the house. Mostly unused due to its decrepit aura until now. The space is sunlit in the afternoon light, no longer dampened by the old dirty windows. 

Today is the first day since Namjoon’s rut that everyone’s been out of the house. It’s just you and Jimin here. The quiet feels overfull, like something is lingering overhead, a storm or a fever yet to break. 

Jimin straightens when he sees you through the mottled windows- not quite frosted but ripply, like looking through water. Yoongi put the doors back on finally yesterday after the workmen left. Hobi and Jin helped him hold the doors in place while he put them back on their hinges and you and Tae and Jungkook cooked while Jimin and namjoon opened all the windows to rid the house of the smell of strangers.

He was mindful of the strangers, as had the rest of the pack been yesterday with no less than 5 of them here. Tae’s hand had been practically glued to your lower back, herding you towards a secluded corner in the library room for some cuddling and a nap. Yoongi had been worried about them possibly breaking his labour of love. 

They’re similar to the door he put in for Tae’s library only this one is varying textures of mottled glass, most opaque, but some clear with white ribbons or rainbow films like bubbles. 

Yesterday was a little bit hard for Namjoon especially with his post-rut pheromones already elevated. But the windows are finally done, and no more strangers need to set foot in your house for the foreseeable future, and that’s something. 

It’s been a race against time. As the temperature begins to plummet the windows have finally been tended to, the drafty space transformed into a sunlit puddle that captures the afternoon light like a suncatcher. Hopefully, it will help the pack wait out the winter months and fend off any seasonal depression which more than a few packmates are prone to. 

Yoongi doesn't like to name names but Tae and Hobi are vulnerable that way. Like stout magnolia trees and pink echinacea their happiness is prone to bouts of dormancy.

You wandered in here with Yoongi and Jin last night after dinner to talk colors. A glass in each of your hands full of Sweet pink wine, the kind that Tae likes. She would have joined you, had the pack alpha not pulled her and hobi and a dejectedly shy Jimin into some alpha bonding time upstairs.  

“We can’t paint every room in this house varying shades of pink hyung, even if it’s for Tae.” The word sounds especially sweet on Yoongi’s tongue; Jin is the only one Yoongi can ever call ‘hyung’. A special sort of pet name between the two of them. 

The pack omega had curled especially close to your mate with you happily sandwiched between them. Your fingers hooked into Yoongi's pocket and Jin's sleeve. He'd pressed his pink button mouth to Yoongi’s easily, the way he’d kissed the beta a thousand times. And replied stubbornly “Why can’t we?” 

Yoongi always aquiecess, even if he is a little stressed, “Remember Jungkook’s already chosen lilac for the outside. you’ll hate it if it clashes”

"I want to paint stars on the ceiling with glow in the dark paint and maybe the outside too!"

Jin had saved another special kiss for you, just as soft as the one he gave your mate. "Of course you do sweetheart." Yoongi had only sighed, and pulled out his phone to look it up.

They’d settled on a shade of salmon pink this morning when they went to home depot (and coffee, because any outing with the pack omega is sort of a date). the color is so light it looks almost white in the morning and honey in the afternoon. Not quite as dove slipper pink as the upstairs closet, or as muted terracotta as the pack’s bedroom. 

There are several different colors of pink and red sitting by the doorway, mini bottles that the pack used for swatches. Not just pink but yellow too (the color you thought you wanted to paint your bathroom once upon a time) and dark teal blue (the color Yoongi had chosen for your bedroom).

Of course, no painting can happen until the ceiling is fixed. (Yoongi started peeling back the paint, intent to fix it before you started, only to find that the whole corner was rotted out. If Yoongi gets back from Home Depot with a drywall patch by a reasonable hour, you might be able to start tomorrow. until then, you and Jimin will prime the living daylights out of the trim. 

Jimin spots you and flushes- a light pink on his cheeks a shade redder than  the color in the paint buckets. “Hey,” he says, soft, pausing. Sheepish at being discovered.

 “That’s not-“ you gesture to the plastic sheeting, leaning up against the doorframe. “For me, is it?”

“Yes,” Jimin says. Then he bobs, urgent when he realizes what you mean, what just the two of you in the house means. His grip on the screwdriver goes slack. “No! not in that-“ but then he sees your grin and realizes that you’re just teasing him.

His plush lips pout. Round and glossy like he kissed Tae earlier and hadn't remembered to wipe away traces of her lip gloss. Seeing that is enough for you to get a bit of pep in your step. “That really isn’t something we should even tease about-“ You drum your fingers on the doorframe smiling nonetheless.

He opens his arms, and you fold yourself closer to him, stepping over the layer of plastic and drop cloth, and- is that canvas? It’s pleasantly rough beneath your bare feet. His hands smooth up your tank top to your upper back. Your tank top hides very little of you- but Jimin supposes that’s half the draw. The thin straps don't give you too much support. He tries not to get distracted by the faint squish as you press your whole body up against his chest.

Before, he might not have really mused on the slight differences between hugging you and the others but now Jimin’s gotten used to calculating the differences in gender the last few weeks, more important now because it affects Tae. You nuzzle into his chest and then pull back, Jimin’s eyes are puffy, his scent is normal and his hair is washed but- 

“You look...“ Jimin scrubs a hand across his cheekbones, trying to banish the slight haunted look in his eyes. Not like there's something weighing on him but weighing on his soul. 

“I know I look like shit.”

“It’s okay, I like my alphas a little bit ruffled.” You tease, but your eyes flash from his face to his chest and back again. “Is it about Tae?” Jimin looks away rubbing his cheek. And you know that’s a yes without having him confirm it. Jimin's anguish and happiness can always be boiled down to her.

Especially given what happened during Namjoon's Rut. 

“I wanted to ask you for something. A favor.”

You wait. Through the window you watch the trees bob in the wind, the train chugs passed, its lights as limey yellow as the ginkgo trees that lay interspersed with the pine trees on the edge of your property. Not quite as orange opulence as the tall maple tree that plunges your backyard in shadow. You watch as some of the oak leaves are tossed onto your narrow back lawn, a space that any of you rarely venture to because it’s steep and because it tends to be a little mossy and muddy. 

Jimin tugs you to the floor, helping you sit cross-legged without teetering. The layers of plastic and cloth on the floor make it a little slippery and a bit squishy. It's a little bit more comfortable than it might be ordinarily.

Jimin hesitates and his scent goes sour, not exactly angry or overstimulated sour (the kind of scent you’re more used to when it comes from him) but more scared sour. Sharp and grating to your senses the kind of angry alpha scent that once upon a time would have had you ducking for cover. 

You shuffle closer to him smoothing your hand over his knee. "Minnie, what's got you so spooked, why are you so nervous? You know you can tell me anything. Literally."

Your attempt at being funny does little to soothe him. Jimin talks quickly when he's nervous. A habit he definitely picked up from Tae.

“Like with you and Namjoon- like with his rut. I don’t want our first time to be in the heat of the moment. I don’t want to do this without thinking because I feel like- when I do that I fuck up, and I might fuck it up with you. If there are two things I’m most scared of it's fucking it up with you and Tae.”

But it's more than that. Jimin knows that since Namjoon's rut, Tae has pulled you into her favorite secluded corners of the house more often than not. That you've chased those hidden moments of pleasure with love confessions. 

Is he surprised that you've begun to fuck like rabbits now? A little. Not because he's been excluded from it (Not excluded intentionally, it's just that you spend most of your moments together late at night or in the afternoon before he comes home, and he comes back to the house to find you both smelling sweet and sated.)

You haven't stolen his soulmate from him. It's more like you've uncovered a layer to her that Jimin hadn't even known existed. A flower that he just thought was a bud, a dandelion turned puffy-wish. Only more spectacular than that, because if Jimin could choose one flower to represent Tae it would take fields and fields of them, and probably Hobi's help to make the levels of pretty match properly.

Is it Tae's hormones? Tae has never been the most sexual creature, at least not compared to other packmates. Jimin practically wanted to live inside her skin. To consume his lovers again and again until their pleasure became a part of him.

It's not that Jimin's love language is sex (at least not the way Kookie might consider it his) It's just that there's something about the way he loves that's all-consuming. Perfectionistic almost. Jimin will love them well, and learn how to fuck them well- because he simply won't compromise for anything less.

Tae would say that there's something about the way that he loves that's all poetry. Not at all Plath or Service but maybe Wilde if Tae is feeling particularly sentimental for the person she’s doing her best to leave behind. In Tae's words- and she's written books and books of poems about Jimin at this point- Jimin's love is all: 

Let me press my lips to your skin and make every inch known, my lips the pen and your moans the ink, let me show you how good 'good' can feel. Let me do it again and again until bliss feels boring. Let me claim your pleasure as proof of how much I am yours and you are mine. Let me make you hope for nights quiet. For afternoons spent in sheets. Let me make you scorn the morning.

But then again, you're the only one who's read Tae's poetry; so really Jimin has no idea. 

Tae has always been the least sexually active of all the packmates, even compared to Yoongi. Jimin knows it’s a bit prejudiced; to think of Betas as being less sexually active especially when he knows the kind of kinky shit Yoongi liked to get up to before you. But there was a time when Tae's sexual activity outside of rut was few and far between. Jimin knows because he and Jin tracked it one year.

Which is why your cries of "Mommy! Mommy please" That Jimin has overheard on more than one occasion over the past two or three weeks- even before Namjoon's rut- coming from the library room- is so strange.

He'd noted the subtle sound of a chair creaking back and forth and a wet slap every now and then and had not had the strength to peer through the more translucent sections of the glass door. But the encounter had left him with his cheeks hot and his pants uncomfortably tight. A hot shower and the warmth of his own fist had left him feeling only guilty, not satisfied. It was the first time that Jimin had ever felt... unwelcome in the pack's escapades.

Maybe he's a little hurt too- because you hadn't come to him and asked to call him Daddy too. That special pet Name remains reserved for the pack omega. 

The packs dynamic is also something that tae’s been mostly left out of, in the hierarchy somewhere in the middle in only the barest of terms. because tae has never been interested in the dominant and submissive shit the rest of the pack gets up to. 

And yet Jimin doubts this is something you forced on her, doubts that anything about your relationship isn't organic and natural. Which leaves only one possible conclusion; 

Jimin simply cannot fuck Tae the way you can. There is something more, that you do better when it comes to loving her that Jimin lacks.

It's stupid to feel insecure, Jimin has loved Tae for almost his whole life. But jealousy is only a secondary emotion when it comes to you and tae- the primary one Is relief. (and also guilt, but Jimin feels sort of guilty about everything so that’s barely a blip in his radar).

You can’t be scared of change forever. He can’t be scared of change when it’s staring him right in the face when you’re sitting pretty and cute and representative of everything Jimin wants not only for Tae but for himself too.  Of course, just because you know how to give Tae what she needs doesn't mean Jimin should be complacent.

Jimin puts down the screwdriver, and the last bit of paint cracked open.  “After this last week, It’s clear to me that I don’t know how to love women right.” You read into his words. And suddenly standing there feels a lot less normal, your back straightens, mouth falling into a little ‘oh’. There is a stain on the edge of your checkered gingham shorts, the kind you like to wear when you sleep. Suddenly it feels like it matters that you're not put together.

It's okay, Jimin's going to take you apart today anyways.

Jimin's eyes are intense and focused when he stares you down. “I want you to teach me- I want you to teach me how to make love to Tae properly- the way you do.”

Your breath comes in one stuttering gasp and-

Jimin promptly takes one of the tubes of paint, a light blue- the same light blue that you ended up painting the upstairs bathroom, and squishes it out onto the canvas below you. Near your hand but not on it.  

The breath you were holding rushes out in a single jagged laugh, “Okay, now I’m lost- I thought the whole point of the plastic and drop cloths was not to get paint on them.” 

The look he shoots you asks you to suspend your disbelief and tugs you closer by your knee, "Sit closer so that I can spread more around you." He starts dishing out the other colors. Enough careful drops of paint that it would take a lot of concentration to get out of the room without tracking dark blue or pink or yellow or red halfway across the house. 

You wonder what exactly Jimin plans to do to you. Paint included. He puts out a spurt of yellow paint on your side and then another. 

Surely sooner rather than later, noodle is going to wander in here in search of a pool of sunlight, track his paws or tail through the paint and leave pawprints everywhere throughout the house. Yoongi will probably complain about them, but you might make him keep them instead of washing them away.

When he’s finished, Jimin turns a yellow tube over in his hands. Back and forth, the cap flashing like a rising and setting small yellow sun. Jimin’s voice is low when he speaks, near reverent. “You’re the first woman I was ever with- that I ever knew I was with.” 

It’s an admission and an admonishment, one that you and the rest of your pack have been tiptoeing around. Even though Tae’s a woman now she hadn’t always been. While new lines in the sand are drawn that doesn’t mean the old lines totally fade away. It will take a few more cycles of low and high tide to completely grow used to this.

Jimin fiddles with a small red tube of paint. “I’m a rigid person, I know I am. I don’t like change most of the time and I know, I know things shouldn’t be so planned, I know that’s not the way things usually go but-” You nuzzle close to Jimin, and his words extinguish into a sigh. His hands cradle your sides, the same place he always likes to hold, between your shoulder blade and your ribcage.

You peck under his jaw, “But you need them to be this way sometimes. Planned? So you can make sure everything’s done right?” You press. Mirth playing at the end of your sentence. Jimin is terribly fun to tease. 

He bristles, “If you’re expecting me not to make loving you guys perfect when I can make it that way then-”

“You’re such a control freak Minnie.” You say it with a smile, playing your fingers through some of the milky pink white, feeling the tackiness between your fingers.

“You don’t hate it?”

You shrug. “Jin’s that way too sometimes. So no, I guess I don’t hate it. Maybe it’s just because I like- really fucking hate making decisions- so.”

He grimaces, but Jimin’s eyes dart from your face down to your crossed legs. settling on something. “Do you care if those clothes get dirty?”

“A little- I like these shorts.”

“Then you should take them off.” 

Your heart thuds as Jimin leans over you, tugging on the strap of your Tank Top with his teeth, lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder, dragging them down. He plays at being sexy but decides not to be, settling for leaning his cheek on your shoulder and watching you. 

“I had this stupid idea, if you don’t want to do it just say so. But this is every shade of pink that we ever painted the house. Tae’s favorite color is pink- and the canvas- I thought it might be nice to have like- some art in her library room- that’s what I meant about making it planned.”

“Are you saying you want to make sex art for Tae or something?” Jimin blushes yet again. You should be keeping track of how many times he has and use them for leverage. 

"Her favorite color is pink." He says, like that justifies it. “And you know gift giving is like, my second love language if that bullshit is to be believed and-”

“-Oh my god you actually do want to make sex art!” your playful shove at his shoulders almost sends you spilling into a splotch of blue. But Jimin is as immovable as ever.

He leans over, growling, nipping at your throat- an alpha tired of being teased. “Do you really think it’s so strange that I want to remember this later, or do you just think it’s odd that I want to treasure you specifically?”

You lean, you’re awfully close to a splotch of yellow that he poured out. You don’t have a good answer for him, or at least- one that will make him stop looking a little sad. 

He shouldn't be so surprised that you kiss him to avoid answering. And yet his hands hit a splotch of blue to support himself when he's suddenly made dizzy. Your laugh tastes sweet pressed to his mouth, and the quirk of your lips says ‘That’s what you get,’

You guess the floors need to be replaced anyway, and he's a trained professional when it comes to clean up so it’s not like it will matter if you and Jimin get a little messy here. If Jimin really wants to learn (and you have no doubt that he does) you’ll gladly teach him. 

Unhurried kisses become your hands pushing his flannel off his shoulders. Laughing when you look down and realize you've definitely left pink all along the collar. Jimin has the perfect lips for kissing, soft and strong in all the right ways, his hands go to your hips then up to your waist and back again, and his kiss goes sloppy- like he’s distracted by the feel of you.

He separates briefly, to very carefully and neatly, take off your shorts and place them near the edge of the room where there is less of a risk of them getting ruined. Leaving you in just your little panties, you wonder if Jimin knows this is one of a set- that Tae has the other ones and is wearing them today.

(You might have decided to match today, getting ready in your bedroom. She might have liked picking out your clothes a little bit too much, heart fluttering at the idea that you’d be wearing what mommy wanted you to wear all day).

But then he surges forward, pressing a kiss to your lips gently except for the way that you can feel him get jumpy and nervous, and when he pulls back, he’s uncharacteristically shy. “I-“ Jimin is blushing, his cheeks rosy pink, like the buckets of paint have jumped up and left splotches there. “I wanted to come find you once I was done setting up- to kiss you and then-“ he tucks his face down not meeting your eyes.

 “You love Tae so well,” Jimin sounds sick with it. A confession maybe, that you love her better than he ever could. How is it that you’ve mastered it? Jimin’s world begins and ends with Tae, and Tae’s world is all you colored these days. And yet, you love her better- love her more. 

He leans forward holding your hip, hand hovering on that space between love handle and stomach. It's the first time in the night that you push back, covering his hand with yours and sitting back. “I don’t know how that feels on men but on me, that’s kind of ticklish and kind of anxiety-inducing so-” 

“Sorry,” Jimin takes his hands off of you, flexing them, “Wait how should I do it then-” you make him sit back, straddling him, narrowly avoiding putting your palm in a puddle of pink paint. 

You slide your hands up his waist to cup his ribcage, and you feel the frantic thudding of his heart under your fingers. “Like this, if you had tits, I’d be just barely touching them, right? Boobs on their own are not like- the most sensitive things to be honest, but if you don’t touch them strong at first and kind of tease around them- it makes it feels better.” 

You sit back again, letting Jimin touch his fill, letting his hands rough in all the right places. His fingers skimming up your ribcage, cupping underneath them with a blush on his cheeks, pulling back carefully to watch your expression and make sure he's doing it right. “Yeah- like that” you ignore the way that your breath goes heavy but Jimin’s smile goes a little feline. Like he knows how affected you are but won’t call you out on it. 

“Did you know- until you I thought I was like- truly only into men?” you shrug, as Jimin slips off your tank top reverently. The dusky rose of your nipple is so similar in color to one of the pinks he just placed, or is it closer to the rose brown purple that comes when you mix the swatch from the upstairs with the pack's bedroom? Jimin couldn’t tear his eyes away from you if he tried. There’s a fleck of it on the shorter baby hairs near your face too.

You tap your fingers across Jimin's shoulders, narrower and comparatively more feminine than Tae's. You don't like thinking of any part of her as particularly masculine, but her shoulders have always been particularly dysphoria-inducing for her.

It's sad to think that maybe if she looked a little bit more like Jimin and had his proportions some parts of her transition might be easier on her. You can only tell her she's got the proportions of a victoria's Secret model so many times before it starts to feel a little disingenuous. 

“It always seemed a little bit nebulous to me- women, men- gender- secondary and otherwise." You shrug, and maybe that's not what Jimin expects from you. Especially with Tae- that you'd have more keen answers for the differences. Not that there were none between the secondary and primary sexes. 

His fingers slide down your hip, petting over your hip bone. his touches exploratory, uninhibited as you talk. Waiting for you to check him. He leaves his fingerprints- yellow blue and pink, over the cusp of your hip, and you can tell you're smearing some color beneath you as you shift to let him have his way with you.

Your breath gets heavy as Jimin's touches get bolder and bolder. Petting up and down your thigh as he kisses softly down your chest, hair tickling your skin. He gestures to your boobs, “No biting?”

“Yes but also no. It depends.”

Jimin sighs, pulling himself closer to you, face level with your chest, nudging your nipple with his nose. “That’s frustrating, I’m used to penis rules. No teeth. not ever.”

You bark a laugh, and Jimin touches your chest softly, your nipples pebbled against his palms, a little heavy as he feels their weight. “They’re so-“

“Squishy? Soft?”

“I was going to say weird, why do you have pillows attached to your chest?” you slap his shoulder in retaliation but Jimin’s smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay” You mean it too- you don’t expect Jimin to adjust instantaneously. Maybe it’s too honest for you to confess it, but you understand how love and sexual attraction can be two different things. Jimin might love you because you’re you and might want to show that love in the way he knows how but that doesn’t mean your body won’t at first be very new and very odd to him. Sometimes it takes a second to properly enjoy the people you love.

Tae is the way you find yourselves back to each other. “Did you ever love a woman besides Tae? Before her?” A flash of red lips and a short black bob of hair runs through your mind, but you shove it down and away because no- desperation isn’t the same thing as love. 

Jimin continues to touch your chest, his hands moving from cupping them to teasing at the nipple gently, probably the way he’s done to Jungkook before. You can’t say it doesn’t make your tummy start to tighten, the way he does it- unsure but eager.

“Yes and no, I think I had like- crushes maybe? In high school? But never like Tae.”

"Maybe that’s only because I started to love your soulmate after I knew. I never had to change the way I loved her like you did. You've loved her for a long ass time Jimin." Jimin flushes with that- the acknowledgment of it never feels any less lucky. Tae could have been loved by anyone- yet she chose Jimin. Tae has always felt like Jimin's own personal slice of heaven, the only piece he might ever touch.

Jimin looks at you and sees a second sliver, a second chance at salvation. “I've only ever loved her as Tae- not-” You don't say Tae's deadname. To utter it here among all this pink feels sinful when it's done in the name of loving her.

Jimin touches you so reverently, fingers skimming up and down your slit, finger pads pressing against your clit, gentle but explorative. 

He watches you, watching your lips part in a soft gasp. The wet glimmer of slick builds, wetting the tips of his fingers. You're so soft and silky down there. knuckles pressed to your mouth to try and keep the sounds in, eyes fluttering shut. Very very pretty in the sunlit room where Jimin can see all of you, the soft fold of your stomach, the freckle on your hip, the one just under your chin.

If freckles hold all of the places that you were kissed in a past life, Jimin thinks you’re going to be covered in them for the next.

You're breathing heavy, but you still find the air to instruct him, “You're doing well- ah- soft touches like that make me feel- Tae likes to feel pretty.  I don’t know if it’s like that with all women but-“ You grab his wrist but don’t tug it away, so Jimin keeps drawing endless circles on you, “B-but it’s like that with her. I called her cock pretty once and she came all over me on accident. Said it was just the hormones but-” 

“She is really pretty” Jimin’s eyes go far away like he’s thinking about it. And you laugh to bite back a moan. You reach over, pawing at his pants and his belt, making him pull back to take them off not only to make your positions more equal but also because Jimin's all-black outfit is honestly being ruined by all the paint. 

You lean back and watch him lift his shirt over his head. “I know! It’s honestly so annoying like- how is it that she was so pretty as a boy and as a girl- I’m honestly so jealous of her sometimes if we’re like-“ you break off. Going quiet wondering how much is normal to reveal. “Talking about gender and stuff.”

Jimin grips your knee, “If I keep going, are you going to tell me when I do something right and when I do something wrong?”

“Of course, but take off your pants first.”

He huffs, but it's all put upon "What a demanding little pup I've got. As you wish." 

You’d forgotten that Jimin a quite frankly unfairly pretty cock. Pink at the tip and well-manicured. All of your packmates keep their downstairs area mostly trimmed- the furriest of the bunch being your mate and Namjoon. Somehow you thought Jimin might want to keep it wilder and yet he's smooth. Perfectly manicured. 

“Her, but not you,” Jimin says, needing clarification but knowing the answer. your foot hits something wet smearing.  The mess gets messier when he jerks you up into his lap, sitting you across it with an impressive show of strength. His cock is wet and hard and pink where it’s pressed against your thigh.

To be mean you arch your hips forward, dragging your clothed cunt across it, Jimin's lips part, and his scent goes thick, like melting vanilla ice cream or baking sugar cones.

The hair on his happy trail tickles your tummy, his hands supporting you as he sets you back against the drop cloth, making sure you don’t bang your head. Jimin holds himself over you, crouching low. “You don’t like to be called pretty- you like to be called cute,” he nips at your collarbones and makes your pulse quicken.

You squirm, but he settles you with a hand on your stomach. “You will get red paint in your hair if you’re not careful.” 

He's telling the truth, you know you have to be half-covered with paint by now. You're doing a good job of making the canvas all pretty. He catches your hand, covered with different shades of pink and white spread across your fingertips, and kisses them anyways, a tiny splotch near the edge of his lips. 

You’re worried. Of course you're worried about the effect your slick will have on all of them, especially Jimin- who's already at the mercy of his instincts on a good day. And yet, you let him pull himself down, knees sliding through pink and yellow and blue. Tossing your panties into some forgotten less paint splatter corner because they’re actually really fucking cute. 

It’s like before Namjoon’s rut, the day you sub-dropped. When Jimin looks up at you to check that this is okay you have the same look on your face; half afraid and half nervous. Like you don’t want to say anything. 

Loving Jimin is very good for you because he doesn’t let you stew in those emotions.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I want to do this, I’m not doing this just because I think you’re more likely to suck my dick later, or because I think you deserve to have your pussy eaten- that's last part is like 1/3 of it.” 

"Are we describing love with fractions now?" you tease, trying to make it lighter. but your heart hurts, Jimin is so very good at making you feel comfortable.  “I always have a hard time believing that.” You confess because today seems to be about honesty. Jimin kisses his way up your inner thigh. Leaving splotches of pink in his wake. “You guys are all so giving, it makes me feel selfish.” 

Jimin presses a first slow kiss where you're sensitive. Slowly, Waiting, hurting for you to push him off. You don’t. 

“It’s not like that,” he struggles with his words for a second but you’ll wait as long as he needs. “You know how sometimes when you eat food and it makes you full but it tastes so good you only want more?” 

“Oh, great now you're comparing me to food" Jimin cuts off your words by pushing your knee to your chest. Unwrapping your pussy for him, the most sensitive part of you wide and open.

“Shut up you know what I mean.” He pales, “I didn’t mean like- shut up literally-“

“Minnie I’m just teasing. I’m not actually upset.” he huffs, but lets you laugh, back against the canvas. "Honestly, I’m just surprised. I didn’t think because of your whole 'I’m a gay alpha thing' that you'd ever want to fuck me. Or if you did we'd at least be with Tae.” 

Contrary to what might be believed, the idea of Jimin only wanting you with Tae doesn't hurt you. The truth is that you have so many people now to please; you were sort of okay with Jimin and Tae being a package deal in the bedroom. If only because it makes things on your end slightly easier.

Jimin presses a kiss to your knee, “I want to do more than fuck you- I want to make you cum so many times you cry.” 

Your stomach swoops, in a way that might just be you clenching a little at the idea of it. “I don’t think anyone’s ever fucked me till I cried, at least not in the good way.” 

Jimin’s growl is a dangerous thing as he pulls himself up to look at you. There’s paint drying on your inner thigh and a whole puddle of it by your hip. And you know you must be a sight. Jimin’s eyes go cold, a little unforgiving at the thought of it and his scent darkens, almost imperceptibly.

You wonder how many people have seen him look exactly like that just before they’ve died under the same touch that makes your heart race. Jimin skims his fingers along your hand, gripping it after a moment, hard, tangled fingers stained with pink and red. Your love for Tae and your other, darker secrets.  

“Remind me to piss on your ex’s grave next time we go into the city.”

Your laugh is a bright thing, and you miss Jimin’s smile when he pulls himself back down to your cunt. "In case no one's ever told you, I'm proud of you for killing him. I know it couldn't have been easy.”

You swallow, you don't want to think about that right now, probably the least sexy thing you've ever done. You don't want to think about any of that right now. “You really want to like- Make me cry?”

“Yes,” he says, and even you have to admit that you don’t find any ulterior motive or any sort of underlying motivation in his eyes. Other than wanting, something dark and roiling- an alpha with something to prove. A shaft of daylight cuts across his face, his body.

Jimin’s so pretty. You wonder if he’s this pretty in every universe.

“You’re welcome to try I guess,” Jimin’s fingers brush over the front of your pussy. Keeping his eyes locked with yours as he softly- ever so softly- pets over your pussy. Your breath hitches.

With one hand braced against you Jimin uses his other hand to brush back the top of your cunt, pinning your clit to your pubic bone. Your lips parting around his thumb, his other finger that just barely, teases the top of your hole. You grab his wrist, cursing low.

Every ounce of your self-control goes to keeping yourself from letting out so many embarrassing noises as Jimin draws light circles over your clit. Touching you firmer than before. “You get so wet so fast- it’s precious.” You squeak, jerking when he presses a little harder. Hand flinging out to grab onto something.

It sends a bit of pink paint splattering, and Jimin’s laugh bounces off the high ceiling. A little gets on the wall. You hope Yoongi won't get too angry at you. You and Jimin are going to make the canvases lovely, probably all blotchy and blended together, by the time you're finished here.

It’s hard for you to concentrate, Jimin’s fingers work so diligently, pushing against your hole even as his thumb digs into your clit, you grab his wrist, “gentle” you say, and he slows his pace, “the estrogen makes Tae-“ Jimin slowly drags his thumb down your clit then back up- the hard nub twitches under his touch. “Sensitive. You have to be gentle. Tae likes it gentle, and so do I sometimes.” He remembers the guise of this, you teaching him.

“Sometimes, but not all the time.” You nod, and Jimin continues his slow, torturous circles. “You can be a little bit rough. If it's too much I’ll tell you.” He nods obediently. “Safeword rules still apply?” you ask, because although this isn’t a scene, you can’t help but feel like you might need them.

You don’t know when you started to need them like a safety net. When it started to feel important to have them, But Jimin nods, agreeing. “Of course. They always do with me. I’ll hold you to them.”

The gentle small slap he lands over your cunt has you jumping, cursing, the skin hotter under his touch. "Jin told me you liked that."

"I do- fuck" Jimin alternates, loving the way your whole body jerks when the sensitive part of you is tapped. They're not even rough slaps but you bet the sound of slapping is sounding through the whole house. juxtaposed with the slow pressure that he rubs against your clit, your heartbeat is just under your skin. The slaps make your pussy more sensitive and especially hot when he begins to press kisses there too. 

He draws his fingers into a pinch and then drags them up and down your clit, making your legs kick weakly. He does it again just to see you shake. figuring out the best way to toy with you, the quickest way to rile you up.

With cocks- Jimin is used to it being fast and wet and hard, but the slower he goes with you the more it seems to rile you up and push you to the edge. You shouldn’t be so surprised that someone so kissed by Cupid is so good at lovemaking too. (Tae has a thing for people touched by love, you should know by now to trust her judgement.)

His fingers press into your hole gently, crooking up with gentle pressure at the same time he lightly circles his fingers over your clit, fingers glossy with your slick, the glide of them wet and easy. “Do you belive I want you yet? or do i need to spank you cute pussy a few more times for the message to get across?”

You cum on Jimin’s fingers like that, clenching down on them as they press up. With him just sitting there, just watching, eyes transfixed on you. he taps over your clit once, twice, and then a third time before you’re arching away with a jagged exhale. You pawing at his hand to get him to stop or at least slow down.

but he’s true to his word, he doesn’t let you get far. His fingers grip your thighs the chub there dimpling like dough. “I was serious,” he says, eyes bright, “about making you cum so many times you cry.”

You wheeze, and he laughs again. You’ve never heard a laugh that sounded so hot, it’s kind of funny how it goes that way; the more you love someone the hotter the little things about them get.

“Lie back-“ he says, “just let me-” You do- because you’re honestly too boneless to protest right now. He pulls you by the hips through the mess of paint, getting it all on his elbows but he doesn’t care when confronted with you, stretched out like a meal before them. Clit pink from cumming, pussy lips hot under his touch from the spanking, wet hole twitching in invitation. Even though he’s seen you take Namjoon’s cock, it still looks so cute and tiny. 

You've come back to yourself enough to tease him. Threading your fingers through his hair as he brazenly watches you. Dismissing the heat in your face as just a conciquence of your orgasam. “If you get paint in my pussy, you better help me clean it later.”

“I’d clean you with my fucking mouth.” He growls against the skin of your inner thigh.

Your retort gets stolen from your throat when he presses his mouth to you.

If you thought Jimin was good at kissing, it’s nothing compared to how he kisses your pussy. Making out with it, his tongue darts out, shy at first. Sending hot licks of pleasure up your stomach. his palm presses flat, against your hip spreading pink and red there. His hand smooths down your knee, and Jimin-

The thing about jimin is that even though he loves giving oral he's never explicitly liked the taste of cock. It was more the fact that it was Tae’s dick that made it good, or Namjoon’s or anyone else’s, that made him love the act of oral so much. Enough to beg for it during rut, to spend countless hours on his knees. To fall asleep during a rut with a soft length in his mouth, mostly Yoongi's, Jungkook's, or Jin's because they're on the smaller side. Happy to have them make his jaw sore.

There is no more complete show of devotion than an alpha getting on their knees for their pack. by comparison, kissing your pussy feels selfish.  

At the taste of your, the grating buzz that’s always in his brain- the mental background noise of overstimulation. Like His awareness of the feeling of his knees sliding against the rough cotton drop cloth, the tacky feeling of the paint on his back drying, the tickle of his too-long hair brushing his ears. The vague soreness and hunger in his stomach from eating something that wasn't right earlier. All of that which usually grates on him, that which usually takes from him- all of it goes quiet when your slick hits his tongue.

Jimin's scent thickens, goes so thick it smells just as potent as it does when he's in rut, vanilla cloud covering you, making you leak more.

The second that your slick hits his tongue, the world fades into bliss. The bliss of clean black sheets, the bliss of fuzzy socks on a cold day, of Hobi's sweatshirt that's worn just right at the cuffs or Jin's nest after everyone's slept in it exactly 3 nights after changing the sheets, just enough for it to smell like them and not enough for it to feel dirty.

Your slick tastes like the buzz that fills his head when he touches Tae's hair, like comfort incarnate, when he touches her skin. He leaves his tongue in soft licks, licks that are more about tasting more than giving you pleasure. You don't really notice the difference.

You try to squirm away, clit still sensitive from cumming earlier, but leashes a snarl. Fisting your love handles. His nose brushes your pubic mound, eyes rolling back. Purely animal when he holds you and pin’s you. Fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises later. 

Maybe they shouldn't have underestimated what 'addictive slick' really did meant. Because this jimin- is another monster entirely. 

His senses, usually friable and bright, like sour candy- go sweet and soft and blissfully quiet. consumed with the quiet of you you you, your slick, hot and sweet on the back of his throat, your warmth, your skin your everything. 

jimin wants to keep you right her, right under his tongue, forever. 

he pushes your knees up roughly keeping you open and prone for him. You yelp, his teeth teasing at sensitive bits, “Minnie- fuck-”

The growl he lets out is possessive, loud, and echoic in the quiet house, vibrating pressed against your clit. It doesn't end, echoing until his voice goes hard and small.

Your clit is so hard and small. The perfect little nub for Jimin’s lips to toy with. they circle and mouth at it mindlessly. Sucking with gentle pressure just to feel it squish against his tongue. It twitches a little again.

Dicks and clits, they’re not all that different. Only this one- this one doesn’t make Jimin’s jaw ache, doesn’t cut off his breathing. This one's so small it lets him let out soft huffs pressed to slick skin, his hands go hard around your fluffy thighs, spreading pink. When he sucks again your hand goes from a puddle of white paint to his hair, painting it.

 “Fuck- Jimin-”

All too soon you’re shaking, Jimin’s soothing growls making your pleasure spike wildly, especially when he looks up from between your thighs, eyes wild and hair messy, 

You cum against his mouth. But this time when you try to squirm away Jimin pulls you back by your hips. You try to twist away, but Jimin doesn't let you go, yanking you back by your knees to bend over his face, keeping your cunt right where he wants it. His voice sounds darker, rougher- than you've ever heard it, "squirmy little omega, let alpha taste you. don’t you want to be good for me?" 

Maybe you should have been more careful, but even at the rough treatment you drip onto the canvas, and you wonder if your slick will stain it too. You can do little more than rest your face against a piece of dry canvas and try not to cum again so soon. You don’t have the brain cells to respond, not when Jimin licks you like that.  

Jimin continues to snarl, throat raw, “Poor little thing, like alphas tongue so much that it made you a little fucked out huh? A little dumb omega? You don’t have to worry pup, alphas got you. Alpha doesn't mind if you're a little messy, I'll take care of you.”

It takes you another orgasam before you're squirting. Your pussy's hot beneath his tongue, ravished and licked so much you can hardly keep your knees under you. Half supported by Jimin's hands as he keeps you on his mouth even as you try and squirm away and save yourself from the embarrassment. The hot gush of slick misses his mouth, trickling down his throat and wetting his collarbones. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't trying so hard not to pass out. 

Jimin is going to turn making you squirt into a fucking art form. 

But surprisingly, you’re just hiccupping not crying yet. So he keeps going. One orgasm bleeds into another, as one hour becomes two. Sometimes when you squirt, it's just a trickle, other times, it's wet and messy and almost /loud/ for the way that Jimin snarls. He tries every angle, palm pressed to your stomach, fingers inside of you pressing up just under his tongue, lapping at your clit like a lollipop, all of it. 

even pressing in deeper, rubbing gently at the spot where namjoon bread you barely last week, a spot so deep that only your alphas have touched, that jimin strokes over just to hear you squeek. his mouth runs an endless trail of filth, sometimes it’s “you’ve got such a cute little breeding hole, so sweet i have half a mind to keep you plugged and full all the time, such a cute hole deserves to be kissed and fucked” other times it’s "give it to me, fuck- please- i need it-"

Your legs are jelly, trembling uncontrollably and Jimin's fingers are Pruny by the time it truly starts to get too much. He’s slick drunk and crazy on the drive to wrench one more orgasam from you. His cock lying hard and unattended against his thigh, dripping thick white cum. The pleasure fading from good to painful, one orgasm wrenched from your body after another, unyielding. 

our clit is so sensitive that even his pressing the flat of his tongue and lapping at your clit makes you see stars, makes you scrabble against the paint-colored floor and try to get away.

"Can't take anymore," you whimper, "please alpha- s'too much." 

Jimin pulls back, giving you a second to catch your breath, before he presses a hand to your lower back and forces you back down. "That's not a safeword pup. If you really want me to stop. Say it." 

You hiccup, but you can't you can't safeword because you know deep down- you really do want him to make you cry. You really do what to see what lies over the next cup, the next minute he spends taking you apart. 

It's the pussy spanking that finally takes you over that edge.

He's unrelentingly diligent with taking you apart, alternating between rubbing tight circles and tapping your clit as he suckles at your hole, wrenching another few drops of slick from you with every tap, until he pauses, and drags his teeth over you. You're already jerking away from sensitivity when he pulls back and lands a hard spank over your sensitive clit. 

You think you actually might pass out for a second. 

When you come too, there's not only a puddle underneath your hips- but also wetness on your lashes, your mouth, hiccuping sobs as the pleasures finally stopped, and Jimin, wet cheeks and all, licks your tears from your face too. “good omega, alpha loves you so much, such a good little pet for me.”

Jimin licks your slick from his lips, wet and messy from you, glossy almost, he bends down, prostrate, kissing the pink splotch on your tummy, “I swear to fucking god-”Jimin does swear to God, in the confines of his own head, that unless Tae gets that surgery in particular, your pussy will be the only one he ever tastes. 

He pulls himself up to your level, answering the weak twitch of your arms with his own around your middle. You’re hiccupping too much to speak and shivering too hard to stay still. Your alpha is hot beneath your touch, the mess of your body and his body, not just paint but slick and sweat and tears, all pressed together like a balm to everything. The tightness in your chest released, you sob and it’s a good thing. 

Something wretched and broken slips out, Jimin presses a kiss over your heart, covering you with his body, with no foe as witness, when there is nothing to protect you from.

The kiss Jimin presses to your mouth is just as soft as the ones he pressed to your pussy. You grimace at the taste of your slick, but Jimin is having none of it, cupping the back of your neck and soothing your cries with a few more kisses. 

“Can you give me one more sweetheart?” His cock is pressing up against your hip, hot, dripping, and insistent. You sniffle but nod. You just want him close.

He pulls your hips through the mess of your slick, turning smudge of red paint all pastel-ly and more watercolor than acrylic as it bleeds. 

He feeds his cock into your hungry entrance, still clenching hard around nothing. It feels like you’re still cumming. You don't know if Jimin kept track or if you could put a number to your orgasms if you tried.

You sniffle. And he tugs you along the warm line of his body. Nosing along your cheek. Keeping your bodies pressed close as he rocks his hip deep. Jimin’s stamina must be endless, each roll of his hips is punishing and firm, grinding the head of his cock in deep. He grinds more than thrusts, nudging the sensitive spots he explored with his fingers. 

Jimin pulls your hands away from your face, looking down, fixing you with a look as he does it again, encouraging another weak pulse and hot clench.

Jimin gets more and more mouthy the closer he gets, he almost talks like Namjoon did in rut when he gets slick drunk. “Gonna fuck you so deep you feel it for days, gonna fuck you so deep there's no way it doesn't take, fuck- you’re mine- you’re fucking mine.” you let out a broken mewl and Jimin tucks his face into your shoulder. 

Jimin doesn't need any schooling, he just needs to love Tae just like this, and they'll be fine.

Jimin grinds his hips in at just the right angle and it forces a rough brutal noise from your throat. A sob that he kisses away. He holds your hips using them for leverage as he breeds you. Hair hanging over his eyes and tickling your brow as he works you closer and closer. The canvas slides against the plastic, but even if you have rug burn later- it will have been fucking worth it. 

“Fuck- I’d do anything for you.” You know it’s true. Despite what happened before. You know now all of that has changed now. 

Your fingers leave red splotches against his stomach, and Jimin trembles. His body over sensitive from all the pleasure, from keeping his orgasam off for so long 

“Would you kill for me?” You ask quietly. Jimin doesn’t stop his pace, doesn’t stop his movements.

You think about Yoongi and that night more than you’re willing to admit; You think about his face, bruised and screwed into a snarl, holding the gun to Geumjae but unable to pull the trigger. You know he couldn't for more than one reason; both because killing him could have killed you and because it was his brother.

But at the same time, You don’t know if one day the memory will ever make you feel anything but emptiness. A bleak almost disappointment. Sure- he’d been willing to bind his soul to yours to keep you alive. He’d devoted himself to you wholly and completely since but-

But maybe that was partially to ease his guilt. Guilt and love. Love and guilt. Are they really so different? Yoongi loves you. You know this as surely as you know that the sun will rise tomorrow. But even he hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. You had to do it instead. 

"I'm proud of you for killing him, I know it must not have been easy"

Watching Jimin fuck you within an inch of your life, you decide you don’t know if that makes Yoongi a better man than Jimin, or a worse one. 

Jimin leans his body low over yours, grinds his cock in deep, and presses his lips to your ear. “Kill for you? I’d do worse.” Jimin drives his cock deeper. Chasing his own release now, not just yours.

 “For you and Tae, I’d do fucking anything.” 

You squirt around his knot, just a trickle of it as it starts to inflate. He doesn’t stop fucking it back and forth, simple millimeters that tug more squirt from you as it fills you up and tugs at your sensitive entrance.  You wet the red on his stomach with how hard you clench down making it dribble. 

There’s even a splotch of red on his shoulder, milky white and crimson. Both of you are absolutely covered in paint. 

 Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever going to get tired of it as he takes a bit of your slick and presses it to his tongue. My sweet pup. our sweet pup the voice devoted to Tae reminds him in his head. Of course, she deserves the most delectable omega in existence, of course, this sweetness is worth protecting.  

Of course, I’d kill for you.  

It's your taste that drives him over the edge that makes his knot twitch and cum start to fill you up, locked deep inside of you. Your abdomen tightens against his as he cums. You’re so warm and wet, so comfortable as he rocks into you. knot too inflated to yank it out.  

The instinct to breed and claim there as he drags his teeth up the Column of your throat and makes you keen. Your hand buried in his hair, the other resting between his shoulder blades, nails resting against his skin, tired of scratching although you’ve already left your marks on his skin. Up and down his back 

Afterward, it’s comparatively quiet.

He flips you over so that you can rest against his chest. He’s warm and hot underneath you. Warm enough that you don’t feel the cold or lack of covering. Knotted together as close as you can be Jimin lets your sniffles quiet. His fingers paint mindless circles over your lower back as your breathing slows. Pressing kisses against the top of your head, your cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid thud of his heartbeat slow. 

Even though you’re quiet, your mind races. Slowly treading toward dangerous territory. Tae’s voice, the memory of Tae’s words- “Minnie. I don’t think I want you to touch me right now, please just- please don’t”

It’s you who dares to punctuate the quiet. “Did you want to do this because of what happened during Namjoon’s rut?”

“Maybe.”

You lift your head, “Have you and Tae talked about it yet?” Jimin tips his throat up towards the ceiling, the cracked plaster that Yoongi hasn’t yet fixed. Avoiding your gaze. He just ate you out, but he can't look at you when you ask about this.

Jimin’s hand continues its endless circles across your sternum, winding down and down.

“To be honest, I don’t know if we’ll ever talk about it.”

 ~-~

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[lulublack90]

Prompt 14 - Wilted

@wolfstarmicrofic June 14, word count 889

Previous part First part

By the time they’d all gotten showered and dressed, they were running late for dinner. Remus looked in disgust, as the only vegetables left were wilted spinach, which he hated, and steamed beetroot, which he hated even more. Reluctantly, he scooped some of the spinach onto his plate. 

He was exhausted from the long day of painting. He needed to ask Sirius for the cream he’d promised for his sunburn, but he’d wait until they were back in the cabin. 

His rough t-shirt was rubbing something awful on the inflamed skin. He kept rearranging it and twitching at the abrasion. 

“What’s up?” Sirius grunted when Remus accidentally knocked his arm after tugging his t-shirt away from his skin for the umpteenth time. 

“It’s scratching,” he whimpered quietly as he shuffled his shoulders again. Sirius reached out and touched the material. 

“Of course, it’s itching. Remus, what’s this made of? It feels like potato sacking.” He dropped it and rubbed his fingers together to get rid of the feeling of the t-shirt. Remus flushed with embarrassment. It was the best his parents could afford. Sirius seemed to realise he’d said the wrong thing. “Sorry, didn’t mean it like that. Come on, eat up. I’ll get that cream for you, it’ll help.” Remus sighed with relief and finished up his meal. 

Sirius took his hand when they got outside and walked him back to their cabin. “Do you have anything softer than that?” Sirius asked hesitantly, gesturing at Remus’s t-shirt. Remus shook his head, not looking at him.

Sirius headed straight for his drawers when they got back to the cabin. He pulled countless items of clothing out of the drawers until he found what he wanted. “Here, he said, throwing a plain black t-shirt at him. Remus caught it. It was the softest cotton he’d ever felt. “Put it on,” Sirius said as he darted into the bathroom and came back with a bottle of aftersun. 

“Sirius, I can’t, it’s yours.” He couldn’t wear Sirius’s clothes, surely he needed them. Sirius, guessing the problem straight away, tutted at him. 

“Remus, have you seen how many clothes I brought with me? One t-shirt’s hardly going to leave me without anything to wear. In fact,” He said as he dug through his clothes again and tossed a few more t-shirts onto Remus’s bed. “Here, for the rest of the week,” He folded his arms and Remus realised he wouldn't win this one. He stepped into the bathroom, not ready to strip half-naked in front of anyone, especially Sirius. 

The t-shirt was even softer than he’d thought it was. It didn’t upset his sunburn at all. He sighed happily and went back out into the main cabin. 

“Thank you,” He said a bit dreamily. Sirius grinned at him. 

“Get on the bed,” He ordered, pointing at it, “Lie on your front.” Remus couldn’t find the energy to complain, so he did as he was told and sunk into his soft pillow. He could have fallen asleep right then if Sirius hadn't hopped up and straddled him.

He tensed at the unfamiliar feeling of having someone sitting on him. 

“Sirius, what are you doing?” He stuttered nervously. 

“Don’t worry, nothing bad. I want to rub this into your sunburn. Can I push your t-shirt up?” No! Remus thought. The worst scars were on his stomach, but his back still had plenty for Sirius to see. But Sirius had shown him his scars. Sirius hadn’t cared that Remus had scars or was scared to show them to anyone. He swallowed loudly and tried to be brave. 

“Okay,” He whispered into his pillow. He gritted his teeth as Sirius gently pushed the t-shirt up until he could see Remus’s whole back. He let out a low whistle, making Remus want to cry. He was hideous and Sirius would never want anything more to do with him.

“Damn, Remus, your sunburn’s so much worse than I thought it was.” That wasn’t what Remus had been expecting. He didn’t have time to think about it before the cooling liquid was drizzled over his back and Sirius’s slender fingers began to delicately work it into his skin. 

He didn’t stop at the sunburn either. Sirius worked the liquid all over Remus’s back. Pressing his fingers into Remus’s sore muscles, making him moan into his pillow. It felt so good. He could feel his eyes drooping as Sirius continued to massage his back. 

The door banged open as James and Peter came back from dinner. 

“Oi, oi, what’s goin’ on here then?” James trilled at them. Remus froze, but Sirius acted quickly, and before the other two could get any closer, he’d pulled Remus’s t-shirt back into place, hiding his scared back. 

Remus tried to lift his head, but it was so heavy and he was so tired. He let Sirius explain, hearing him blow kissy noises at James while teasing him about rubbing lotion into his sore parts for him if he was that bothered. Sleep overcame him before he could hear what James’s reply was. 

That night he was stirred from sleep by Sirius, sneaking into his bed. Sirius wrapped an arm around him carefully and Remus snuggled closer. He’d never shared a bed with anyone before, and especially not someone he had feelings for. It was wonderful. 

Next part

[mickeyswhore]

Complicated Arrangement

A/N: Someone stop me from writing for Thomas Shelby, lol.

Summary: You are Thomas Shelby's sugar baby, you fell in love with him and now you're in trouble.

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: daddy kink, smut, use of Y/N (but only twice), modern!Thomas Shelby.

Tag: @mrkdvidal1989.

You had everything you ever wanted, money, gifts, a great apartment, your grades were great, there was one problem, your heart. Thomas was pretty specific with you when he asked you to be his sugar baby, you could hear his voice saying it to you, every time you saw him sleeping, and every time he did something that made your heart swell.

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

You agreed, because you needed the money and you never thought that you could fall in love with Thomas Shelby, he was cold, distant, but none of that stopped you from loving him. Thomas insisted on having separate apartments, you thought it was a good thing, since you wanted your privacy. And now, you were hiding from him, and you weren’t supposed to do that, even if the both of you didn't meet in person, he insisted that you never kept anything from him, but how could you talk to him when you disobeyed his rule? It wasn’t like the times when you were bratty, just to have his attention, you would lose Tommy forever if you talked to him about that, so you were ghosting for a week.

Thomas was deeply concerned with your lack of news and updates, so he decided to stop by at your apartment, so he could see you, he was missing you like crazy, your voice, your soft skin, your whimpers and moans, everything about you intoxicating for him. He even considered the possibility of you finding someone else, but he was adamant with you, he did not share, especially you.

You were now at your apartment, studying for the finals, you were really stressed out, not because of the finals, but because of Thomas, you needed him, but you were scared that you were going to tell him everything, about your feelings. You heard a knock on the door, it was probably the delivery man, bringing your pizza. You opened the door, and you gasped, there was Thomas Shelby, looking as handsome as always, and with a hungry look on his face.

“You didn't called me, you didn't text me, what’s going on, Y/N?” You knew he wasn’t mad, just concerned, because he never called you by your name, only nicknames.

“It’s nothing, I’m really sorry, I should’ve called you, I’m just studying for the finals.” Thomas knew that was a lie, because he could read you like anyone else, and he knew that you were hiding something.

“That’s not it, there’s something else, tell me.” He smiled, and you signed, you couldn’t tell him.

“It’s nothing, I have to study.” You tried to shut the door, but he stopped you.

“Are you trying to get rid of me, baby?” He was using that voice, the voice that brought the submissive in you.

“No, Daddy. But I really need to study.” You said, and Thomas smirked.

“Good, because you’ve been a very bad girl, ignoring Daddy, you need to be punished, kitten.” He entered your apartment and sat on the couch, smirking the whole time.

“Go to the bedroom, and I want to see you laying in bed, naked, waiting for Daddy.” You nodded and went to the bedroom, despite being scared of telling him how you really feel, you needed him, more than anything.

You quickly took off your clothes and laid on the bed, waiting for Ivar, you were getting anxious, every minute felt like hours. Thomas opened the door, and sat on the bed, he was devouring you with his eyes, you could feel yourself aroused, just by his predatory gaze.

“What should I do with you? There’s so many possibilities, I could bring you to the edge over and over again, or I could make you cum until you pass out, or I could just tease you enough and then leave, so many things I can do to you, little one.” The whole time Tommy was caressing your body his hand, your thighs, your stomach, your arms.

“Please, don’t tease me, Daddy.” You whimpered, and Thomas stopped, he got close to your ear.

“But you need to be punished, kitten.” He whispered, and you bite your lip, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Please, I need you, Daddy.” He growled, you knew that he couldn’t resist you.

“Alright, kitten.” He sat next to you, and started to run his fingers in your thighs, slowly, you opened your legs to give him more access, making him chuckle.

“Such a good girl.” He praised, and licked the shell of your ear, making you whimper.

“You’re gonna keep your eyes on me all the time, kitten.” You nodded and Thomas slapped your clit, lightly. “I need words, little one.” He kissed your neck and down to your collarbone.

“Yes, Daddy.” He seemed pleased with your response, and started to make small and slow circles on your clit, you gasped at the contact.

“Does that feel good, kitten?” His eyes were on you all the time, you couldn’t look away.

“Yes, it feels so good, Daddy.” Your breath was more erratic, Thomas loved seeing you like this.

“Do you want me to fuck this pretty little pussy of yours?” His movements on your clit were faster, bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“Yes, please fuck me with your fingers, Daddy.” He inserted two fingers inside you, his movements were fast, the only sounds in the room were your moans and the pornografic sounds that Thomas was drawing out of you.

“You’re so good to me, you’re gonna cum on my fingers?” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath and his voice were all it took to bring you to the edge.

You came on his fingers, you grabbed his arm and squeezed.

“Do you want my cock, buried deep inside your pussy? Do you want that, kitten?” He took off his shirt, and he was unbuttoning his pants.

“Yes, fuck me, Daddy. Please.” You said, biting your lip, he growled.

“I’m gonna ruin you, baby.” He put his cock on your entrance, teasing you.

“Don’t tease, please.” You begged, and Thomas slammed his cock inside you, not giving you time to adjust to his size, his pace was brutal, animalistic, and you loved that.

“D-daddy.” You moaned, so lost in pleasure. You wrapped your legs around his waist, Thomas started to hit your g-spot repeatedly, you were getting close again.

“I’m so close, Daddy.” You whispered.

“Cum all over my cock, kitten.” He encouraged you, after a few more thrusts, you came again, and Thomas came right after you.

He cuddled with you, and he kept saying that you were amazing, whispering sweet nothings on your ear.

“Now you’re gonna tell me what’s bothering you?” He asked, and tensed.

“I can’t, Tommy.” You tried to leave, but he didn't let you.

“Tell me, you can tell me anything, little one.” He encouraged you.

“Thomas, I love you.” You closed your eyes, you didn't want to see the disapproving look on his handsome face, when he didn't said anything, you turned around and saw him smiling.

“Thank God, I thought I was the only one.” You frowned.

“What are you talking about?” He laughed, and kissed your hand.

“Baby, I fell in love with you, for a very long time, I just didn't have the guts to tell you.” You smiled at him. “Wait, is that the reason you’ve been avoiding me?” You nodded.

 “I love you, Y/N.” He kissed you, gently.

“I love you too, Tommy.” The both of you laughed.

[twistedwriting]

Azul Ashengrotto Character Analysis

I have many thoughts of Azul, yet not a single word comes to mind when I try to write them down but I will try my best.

There are certainly a few topics that are questionable or even judged upon the fandom, some also seem to forget that Azul is more than his contracts and his shady ass business. Some view him as manipulative while I believe he just saw stupidity in humanity and took this weakness of mankind and turned it against those who were foolish enough to not ask questions. Azul has never lied in his contracts, not a single time. He provided what he had offered and taken what he was entitled to take. Let's take the main issue of Book 3: The contract Ace, Deuce, Grim and many others had signed: Offering their magic for a study guide - If they'd make it to the top 50, they'd get their magic back. If not, they become the Sea anemones that are to follow Azuls every order. He provided the guide and it helped everyone who has gotten their hands on it - Did he lie? He didn't. All he did was *exactly* what people had asked - Nothing less and nothing *more*. And that is the exact point: He didn't give information if he wasn't asked for it. Or Yuus contract: He took Ramshakle, he provided what the Freshmen needed - He didn't lie. In fact, he offered more than he had to: The Potion. The twins interfered but was it against the contract? It wasn't. As I see it, Azuls contracts are much like the wish of a genie: If you wish, be most specific or live with the consequences. You don't want anyone interfering with your stealing? Should've said so, simple as that.

What Azul made the "Villain" was the naivety of those who signed their name on the contract.

But there's more of Azul than this. I think it's justified of what he does. People are stupid, people are naive but most importantly: People are cruel. Especially kids are worse than any demon from hell. If you're being bullied as a child or even up to being a teenager, you'll be emotionally fucked for a long time, if not forever. You'll become insecure of whatever you've been bullied of for something that'll feel like eternity. You want to avoid this very thing, no matter how important it is supposed to be in your life. It'll cause you to break down at some point just for you to pretend like nothing happened afterwards - Especially if you've built up the very picture of someone who's got it all together like Azul did. While he pretends there's no issue, I refuse to believe that he doesn't have an Eating Disorder. Being bullied for your weight as a child (which is - in his case - not even really justified since you basically compare an octopus to a fish. A comparison that is found in every sense of the equation) leaves a mark. A deep, burning mark. Avoiding mirrors, pictures, tight clothes or being seen by anyone without your clothes. You can't tell me he's willing to get rid of his childhood and not have an eating disorder, that he wants to pretend the little healthy octopus child didn't exist and that he can look in the mirror without suffering. It's Canon that he's strictly taking care of his weight - But it's also Canon that his favorite food is fried chicken, possibly the worst choice for strictly keeping your weight. A diet is all good and stuff but strictly starving your body of certain things will only cause mental distress.

I can see he's a sensitive soul, trying to hide behind the mask of sheer confidence and superiority. His only friends are the two weird guys who didn't leave him alone - Sure, they're not the best choice but having two eels by your side is better than being alone. Whether the relation between these three is toxic or not, they depend on each other - especially Azul depends on Jade and Floyd and by the way the twins reacted to Azuls overblot, I'm confident to say that they also depend on him. After all, they might "Can't stand" each other as they'd say, they still stuck around even though there are many reasons to be "like the others" and turn away.

There was something else I had in mind but it just won't come to me right now, so I'll leave it at that for now. All I'm gonna add is that I'd really like to hug Baby Azul and tell him that he's perfect the way he is. To be his friend and let him know that it doesn't matter how he looks like because no matter how much you Weight, if your nose is crooked or if you're labeled "ugly" by modern society, it's your heart and soul that is meant to be you; not your mortal vessel.

[shiny-jr]

Have you ever thought of the imposter au with the staff of raven College? I could just imagine Crewel being the reason the reader is summoned to twst while not fulling knowing it (Probably coming in at the end to safe then after realize shits going down). That and maybe Crowley and Vargas going full mad dog and just chasing the reader like crazy. Maybe Trein tripping over his cat while chasing and reader/imposter feeling bad about it. Along with Sam using shadow creature to track the imposter down. Just a fun ideas I've been having, feel free to ignore.

I have thought about it before. I believe I even once mentioned that I would make a separate post for it eventually. Recently been thinking about platonic yan staff, so like fatherly type stuff for those of you with daddy issues.

Platonic yan Crowley! Wants to be your father figure so bad. Why won't you let him take you under his wing? You'd be his little fledgling! Ah, he must do his best to protect you! He is the headmaster of a prestigious school with unfortunately many arrogant troublesome students. Often he'll dramatically lament, inquiring why you don't wish to spend time with your dear old father? When you reply with a deadpan, "You're not my dad, Crowley." He'll break out into a melodramatic wail, oh woe is him that his own child does not wish to partake in any activities with him! Ah–– a way home, you ask? Well, during one of his many hours long searches in the library to find you a way home, something he adamantly assures you he's been doing, he had the most profound idea which he shall so graciously share with you! Why not stay in Twisted Wonderland and allow him to formally adopt you? Then you shall be his child and he will be sure to provide you with all the love and care you need! Isn't he a genius with such boundless benevolence?

Platonic yan Divus! Probably believes the whole world is out to get you. You poor little thing, far from home, lost and afraid, with no where else to go. Eventually he'll begin to doubt that Crowley is taking proper care of you, and deem his efforts as inadequate. Look at this wretched place, an old dorm filled with cobwebs and ghosts is supposed to be your home? An old oversized uniform and a handful of cheap worn clothes from the shop are all you have to wear? And your classmates, his own students, oh he knows what they're like. A bunch of ruthless mischief making pups! This is unacceptable! Divus will spoil you like his own. He has a soft spot for you, so when he's improving your conditions and getting rid of the old dirtied items, you hold up that feral monster cat and go, "Can I at least keep Grim? Please?" Ah, the puppy eyes. How could he say no to you? But that cat is getting a bath first. Oh, and he's incredibly wary of all the students. In his eyes, none of them are good enough to be your friends, and he's beginning to suspect all of them of trying to take advantage of you. Listen here, darling, you are not to trust any other men besides himself, are we clear?

Platonic yan Vargas! Oh god, not another one. Somehow, he's worse than the other two dads you've acquired. Especially because he thinks your escape attempts are some sort of crazy athletic training regimen. He's come to think of your monthly escape attempts as survival training, so not only is he enjoying himself but he's more than capable of keeping up and capturing you. Then dragging you back to NRC with a proud grin, boasting about how you got so much further than last time! "Let me go! Let go of me!" That's the spirit, he cheers. Seems like you're raring to train again, but now's the time regain your energy for next month! Eagerly tells you stories about his youth, how he was the strongest and most popular! He really wants you to look up to him, and he likes to think he's your favorite dad. Especially when it comes to Crewel, let's say they have differing opinions on how to properly care for you. While his counterpart prefers to pamper you, Vargas believes you need more activity and excitement in your life! Wouldn't you agree with him? Come on, give him a smile now!

Platonic yan Trein! The only real dad on the list. He has two sons that are already full adults now, and he believes you'd get along wonderfully with them. You would be their new younger sibling. "That's kinda... dumb. I'm not their sibling though." You comment, as he responds, it is not foolish to want all three of his children to get along. It's a bit annoying that you can never really get on his nerves, despite him being notoriously strict and a little intimidating with his stoic look. But like most of the dads on this list, he too has a weak spot for you. He still expects you to be a well-behaved though. No matter what you're like, he can handle it. After all, he's been a professor at NRC for so long, that he's seen and taken care of countless students. If you're looking for quiet time, he's probably the best to be with by far. He'll let his feline familiar Lucius sit on your lap as he serves you a platter of cookies with a hot beverage. When you do try to get on his nerves for whatever reason, it never works, so you end up plopping down beside him on the couch in defeat, angrily opening a magazine as he calmly continues to read a book. Now that the opportunity has present itself, he'd like to have a word with you. You should know that you are his pride and joy. That being said, should any of his students be pestering you, inform him immediately and he'll handle it promptly.

Platonic yan Sam! Most likely the best one to be with. It doesn't even feel like he's trying to be your dad, he's more like a cool but still concerning weird uncle. But if you had to classify him as a dad, he'd be the chill one. Although it is scary that he seems to know way more about you than you ever told him about. You suspect it has something to do with his friends on the other side. Whenever you're not with him, you have spied an oddly moving shadow or two... But the upside about that is, he always seems to know what you want. If it's small, he'll offer it for free. If it's a bigger item, he'll let you have it if you work the shop with him for a few hours. What's say you, huh? Sound like a deal? He'll entertain you a trick or two while you're here! Sam likes to call you his little good luck charm, because you tend to bring in more customers and just put him in a good mood. He choses to trust you, more than the other dads, probably because he knows you can't escape because he's always watching you somehow. You go on ahead, just be back by dark, you hear? He wouldn't want to send his friends to force you back home if you stay out late, m'kay?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting upset at my best friend for calling me a hoarder in passing?

My (29NB) best friend (also 29NB) have been going through major crises lately at the same time—we will call them Sun. So, yesterday, they sent me a text, when we weee talking about how they haven’t wanted to be over at my house for a while, mostly bc they don’t like my partner…although the subject was in discussion bc my partner and I are splitting up, and I will be living alone again in a couple months. At some point in this discussion, they mentioned the more pressing matter that’s caused them not to be over as much is that they are very allergic to one of my cats—but only the one I just adopted a couple years ago, they’ve had no allergy issues w the other one and they love her very much, she is their niece.

However, at one point, they mentioned that a few years ago, when I was using drugs a lot more irresponsibly than usual—to the point where I got injured from falling down the stairs—they had been speaking to my other close friends. Which is appreciated, and I knew about this already obviously since there was an intervention that happened around that time…the way they mentioned this was upsetting. Specifically, they mentioned that “they approached [other friend of mine] about my drug use bc they thought I was becoming a hoarder” and that MAJORLY triggered me—specifically the hoarder comment. The woman who gave birth to me/raised me is a hoarder, which is a well known fact to just about anyone who is close to me irl, especially anyone who’s known her irl, and ESPECIALLY Sun, who worked as her caregiver for quite a while. Also being compared to/told I am just like my abusive egg donor is the thing that will hurt me the most, bc she is the most cruel, manipulative, abusive people I’ve ever had in my life.

So the thing is, my house is indeed very messy…I have too much junk around, and it’s very difficult for me physically to keep anything clean. It’s actually one of the reasons I’m separating from my partner, and as ashamed as I am about it, I understand. However, it’s not a hoarding disorder at all—I don’t hold onto anything I don’t need out of sentimentality, and if I could wave a magic wand and simply get rid of all the extra shit I don’t need/make everything nice and clean, I would. Unfortunately, I am very disabled with too many chronic pain/fatigue conditions, and actually cleaning the house/sorting through shit to get rid of takes immense physical effort. But whenever someone offers to help me, I jump at those opportunities! I take things to be donated all the time (if I’m able to sort through the stuff that needs to go) and it’s entire worlds different than my egg donor refusing to give up several bins of my baby clothes bc she can’t bear to part with them, despite them never seeing use in her possession ever again.

So, I responded to Sun’s mention of a past conversation thinking I’m a hoarder, with offense and saying it hurt me. We had been discussing just downsizing and how we will be going through my stuff as we pack for the new place, and had mentioned that I should make sure to get rid of certain clothing things if they have holes/are worn out/whatever, which to me, sounded like they think I have a hard time throwing clothes away even if they’re not even wearable anymore. With that and the hoarding accusation in mind, I told them I was very hurt by this. I made sure to be respectful and kind yet assertive, but after explaining how this was an unfair assumption/description of me, they got upset and said I should’ve asked for clarification before coming at them.

Now, do me, I wouldn’t have even considered they meant anything other than how I interpreted it, so it would never have even occurred to me to ask for clarification if I’m not even aware there’s a miscommunication. Apparently, the reason they mentioned getting rid of clothes that have been too worn out is an issue they have themselves, but this isn’t anything I was ever aware of, and once again never would’ve thought was referring to anyone but me. They also say they’re aware that it’s my physical difficulties that make cleaning physically painful for me…but honestly, that’s not anywhere near the same as having a hoarding disorder, which is indeed what they’d accused me of.

Of course, I know the both of us overreacted—me, being offended about being accused of being a hoarder (especially since my immense difficulty cleaning the house is part of why I’m separating from my partner and is therefore something I’m incredibly sensitive about right now) and them, being offended that I took what they said wrong and being upset over some things they didn’t actually intend w what they said…but I’m just not sure if maybe I AM in the wrong here, for expressing being hurt by being called a hoarder here, or if I really am making the entire thing a big deal out of nothing.

So, AITA for voicing my offense at being called a hoarder?

What are these acronyms?

[bleucaesura]

WAITING TO WANT YOU LESS - 3 / ?

Blitzø leaned his forehead against the bathroom door and cursed all of hell and creation. How could he let Loona see him like that? He was supposed to be the grown up. He was supposed to have his shit together. And after the disaster at Beelzebub’s party…

Fuck…

Blitzø turned his back to the door and slid to the floor, head in his hands.

Fuckity fuck fuck FUCK!

He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them. He buried his face as deep as it would go.

What the fuck was he doing? Wasting a whole fucking day running around like an idiot ‘apologizing’ to a bunch of fucktards he didn’t give two shits about - just because he’d been too fucking scared to say what he was feeling this morning. Or fucking last night in Stolas’s bedroom…

Blitzø dug his claws into his shoulders, the stinging pain grounding him and steadying his breaths.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” He muttered to his navel, face buried in his arms.

After a few more minutes wallowing on the floor, Blitzø got up and slunk over to the mirror and sink. He splashed water on his face and peeked up at his pathetic visage.

“Fucking disgrace…” He snarled and flicked water at his reflection. He swallowed back the burning tears and stared blankly into the middle distance.

Why couldn’t he believe anyone could possibly love him? Had Stolas’s confession really been that much of a shock? He was fucking lying to himself if he said it was.

Yeah Stolas was always acting like a thirsty bitch, but he was always reaching out, making an effort… Blitzø had just refused to believe it meant anything other than a means to an end. Because, how could he possibly be worth anything more than his body? Especially to a prince..?

Stolas’s words echoed in his head. “Why would I allow everyone to see how much I like you? How much I’ve tried so fucking hard to spend time with you, to support you? You don’t owe me those things… but you can’t just ignore all that.”

And yet he had… Blitzø had ignored all that…

He’d spent so many heavan forsaken years plowing his way through hell and fucking anyone who looked his way, that he’d forgotten how to let himself truly care for anyone. He drowned his pain in shallow pleasures, and wasn’t ashamed to use his charm to get what he wanted. Others’ feelings be damned. Because everyone was out for themselves. No one cared about him. So he wouldn’t care about anyone ever again...

Tears streamed down Blitzø’s cheeks and suddenly he felt very dirty. Like all the years of his careless philandering had left him soiled, rotten - unworthy.

His heart pounded in his chest like a frantic animal trying to break free of its cage. Without realizing it, he’d begun to claw at himself, trying to tear off his clothes as quickly as possible. He had to get the filth off. He needed to be clean.

It took too painfully long to strip. He wasn’t even out of his pants and boots before he had the shower on and was crawling in, one pant leg and boot still clinging on as he tumbled into the tub. He clambered up, threw the last vestiges of clothes off, and cranked the shower to scalding hot. He grabbed a scrubber, usually reserved for getting under his and Loona’s claws, and began to rake it over his skin.

Blitzø sobbed ragged tears and scrubbed at his skin. He felt like every inch of him was covered in filth and it needed to be scraped from his body; his soul. Maybe if he cleaned deep enough, he’d be good enough for Stolas. Maybe if he got rid of all the disgusting parts of himself, he could start over…

Maybe.

Maybe…

Blitzø scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was raw; until he was curled up and sobbing on the tub floor; until the water ran ice cold and swirled with his bloody ichor down the shower drain.

*****