#maybe only those who want to see and touch can see and touch

[theballadofthesunandthestars]

Hello! I'm an aroace lesbian, here's my thoughts on the soulmate trope! I'll be talking about real life too, but I promise it all relates back to ship tropes and fanfic. And sorry it's kinda ramble-y!

So, I am not really a fan of the idea that each person has only one soulmate, and I especially hate the idea that soulmates are purely romantic. But I actually do believe in soulmates! I believe that each person has multiple soulmates, but soulmates are not necessarily a romantic partner that you're destined to be with. I believe that there are people that are meant to be in our lives one way or another, sometimes forever and sometimes temporarily. I think that soulmates can be not just romantic, but platonic and familial as well. All soulmates are just people that you are meant to have in your life.

A big aspect of this belief is that I don't see love between friends as lesser than love between romantic partners. I absolutely despise the phrasing "more than friends" when talking about romantic relationships, because friendships are just as nuanced, wonderful, and powerful as romances. And maybe that's just because I don't experience romantic attraction, but I don't think that's why. I know straight girls who have boyfriends, yet they share this deeply intimate connection that goes almost deeper than the feelings they have for their romantic partners. There's nothing romantic or sexual about their relationship; they just love each other deeply, and cannot imagine life without each other. In my mind, they're soulmates. They're meant to be in each other's lives, and they're linked to each other. In a romantic sense, we all have multiple people in the world that we could be romantic soulmates with. You can lose a soulmate due to bad timing or the relationship not working out, and there's still someone out there in the world for you if you want them. Some people dedicate themselves to one soulmate. Others have multiple throughout their lives. But one lifestyle is not above the other.

I've read one soulmate AU fic that I kind of liked. It was one where soulmates could feel each other's pain, and it was incredibly well-written. But there was one plot point I adored where it's revealed that one of the main couples in the story are actually not soulmates; both of them have different soulmates that they met, but realized that they were terrible with their soulmates romantically, and so while they keep in touch with their soulmates, they ultimately fell in love with someone who was not their soulmate, and found just as much fulfillment in that. And I LOVED that plot point; it made me like that relationship so much more. There was also an aroace character in the fanfic who had a soulmate, but he didn't want to be with him romantically, and so he wasn't. And I loved that plot point too because it showed that aroace people aren't incapable of deep love and aren't missing out on anything when they don't feel romantic attraction. That fic was super good in other words.

And I also think that my belief on soulmates is what makes me a multi-shipper and makes me not understand ship discourse in the slightest. Because first of all; polyamory anyone? I think that you can totally love multiple people at the same time, and it doesn't take away from the love you experience with any one person. Secondly, since friendship is not below romance in my mind and is just as valuable, I can totally be chill with a ship that I like being platonic or romantic in a given fanfic or universe. It doesn't feel like a loss in the relationship in the slightest.

I get the appeal of a soulmate trope; the idea that there is someone out there destined to love you no matter your flaws and shortcomings? Love that! But I guess I hate the idea that's usually promoted that everyone only has one soulmate, and it's romantic. And on the rare occasions when those fics include an aroace character, that character just doesn't get a soulmate of any kind. And that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. So I generally don't read those fics, though I hope people never stop writing them because you should not let some weird fuck like me on the internet stop you from writing what you want!

I recommend this world view personally though because I was able to heal so much for it! I was so scared that I was broken, that I was missing out on a big part of life, but no. Like Chappell Roan said, love is a kaleidoscope; even with all the colors and shapes, it somehow all boils down to the same emotion. And my friends that do have romantic attraction, I think that believing platonic connections are not lesser than can really help with a lot of insecurities and anguish that come from dating and engaging in romantic relationships. Because you don't need them to experience true love, and so there's no pressure anymore! You can explore romance at your own pace and leisure. You can be unafraid to let people go that you need to, because there's someone else out there who'll love you just as much! It makes life so much more fulfilling in my opinion!

But as I said, I'm a weird fuck on the internet and you know your life better than I do. So if this doesn't work for you, feel free to say "oh no thanks!" and live the life that's best suited for you! You got this!

Whew. Sorry for the cheesiness

Curious, I haven’t really seen any real trend among aspec people and the ship tropes they do like, however I think I kinda seen a trend in what they dislike. So in the tags tell me if you’re aspec (ace and/or aro) and if you dislike soulmates, and I mean the most straightforward romantic non subverted kind (but if there are versions you like feel free to elaborate)

[captainpriceslilwife]

price with a sensitive little bird who cries too easily (me)!!!! let's think about it....

Maybe you've worked so hard to always be so tough for everyone else :( stiffening your lip every time you get even an inkling that you might cry, running off to the nearest bathroom to gather yourself so you can come back out with the pretty smile that everyone else seems to love so much.

And maybe you do the same thing with john when you first meet him - hiding yourself away the moment you get even the tiniest bit emotional because you don't want to scare him off with your 'dramatics,' as everyone else calls it. You just want him to like you! And you just assume he'll be like everyone else - rolling his eyes and telling you to get over it if you ever cry in front of him. It works for a while, and he seems happy with you, so you make sure to keep it up for months.

But one day, you have nowhere to run.

The two of you are driving home after a night out together - John in the driver's seat as your head lolls against the passenger window, eyes blinking heavily as you try not to fall asleep with John's thumb rubbing small circles on your thigh. You're about to give in to the heaviness pooling behind your eyelids when you see it on the side of the road - a tuft of feathers from what used to be a happy little duck, now flattened by some driver who couldn't get out of the way fast enough, or someone who just didn't care to.

The calm, sleepy energy in the car suddenly shifts, and John steals a glance over at you only to take a double-take when he sees your lip wobbling as your eyes grow glassy. You try to tilt your head away from him to hide yourself from his view, but he's quick to gently squeeze your leg to try to pull your gaze over to him.

"Sweetheart? Hey, what's wrong, love?"

His tender coo is enough to send you over the edge, making your shoulders shake as a soft whimper escapes your lips. You try to choke out the words, but you're so ashamed to be crying in front of him that you can't even speak - so you just point lamely out the window before you bury your face into your hands and let out a sob.

"What?" His brows furrow in concern as he tries to discern what it is that's upset you. He tries to glance in the rearview mirror as he continues driving, but he's at a loss as you continue to let out the most heart-breaking sobs he's ever heard. "Love, what's happened?"

"T-The d-duck...." You manage to blubber out between tears, growing more and more embarrassed with each tear that rolls down your cheek. You're just waiting for him to degrade you, to tell her how silly you are for crying over something so stupid.

"Duck?" He doesn't seem annoyed with you, though - just confused. His hand hasn't once left your thigh, and he only pulls his eyes away from you to keep his attention on the road as he tries to soothe you with his touch. "What duck, my love?"

"S-Someone hit the-" Another little sob escapes from your lips, and he swears he feels his heart break when you bring your teary eyes up to look at him. "-the d-duck. On the road."

Oh, you soft, sweet little thing. His poor girl with an aching heart that harbors so much love and care that it can't help but spill over - making those pretty tears slip down your cheeks as you cling to his hand. The same hand that has spent its life torturing and killing, trained to hold a gun like it's second nature for the past two decades. Yet you still hold onto it like it holds the comfort you seek. And John? He'll do anything to give it to you.

He spends the rest of the night soothing you, trying to comfort you as you cry to him about how 'he must've been so scared, crossing the road all by himself. What if he has a duck family out there waiting for him? Maybe he was crossing the street to get to them...

And John never once teases you or criticizes you - he just holds you a bit closer as he brushes your tears away. It breaks his heart to see you so upset, but a part of him preens at the thought that you finally felt comfortable enough with him to show him the soft, vulnerable parts of you that you had hidden away forever.

The next day, he takes you to the park so you can feed the ducks in honor of their poor, fallen soldier - and he makes sure to hold you again when you start crying about the cute, baby ducklings trailing after their mom.

"They're just so cute...and small...and I can't help them! They could get hurt!" You blubber quietly, tucking your face into his shoulder as he runs his hands down your back to calm you. "I know, my love. I know. But mama's watching them, yeah? They'll be alright."

It's like you've broken a dam. Because now you can't seem to stop crying about every little thing around him. Broken plates, sad news articles, stained laundry, an empty restaurant with a 'grand opening' sign in the front. All of it sends you over the edge in an instant, and you always end up seeking John out for him to soothe you.

You're just waiting for the moment that he tells you that you're too much. He comes home after a hard day of work just to have to take care of you the second he gets back - of course he'd get tired of you at some point! Nobody has ever been kind to you when you showed them such an unguarded version of yourself, and you've just thrusted it upon him with no warning.

But he seems to revel in it. The thought of being the only one that you trust to see you in such a vulnerable state - soft belly exposed for him to take care of - it's like a drug he never knew he could get addicted to. You're a soft, sensitive thing, and he's more than happy to be the one to protect you from the harshness of the world, even if that means he has to soften himself up to meet you at your level.

He's never spoken to someone so gently in his life - kissing your tears away and cooing sweet words at you as he holds you on his lap, making up stuff about whatever you're upset about just so you can calm down - no, love...fish don't feel any pain, so fishing is alright. How do I know?....I read about it...yeah. See? They're fine...no need to cry, love.

And him being soft with you makes you cry, too. But those are his favorite tears to see - red rimmed eyes filled with relief and glistening like glass as you curl yourself closer to him, grateful to have finally found someone who will catch you when you fall into your feelings.

He'll never admit to it, but sometimes he sets you up to fall just so he can be there to catch you. He'd never make you sad on purpose, of course not, but when you come to him in tears because he left you a little love note on your favorite coffee mug before he went to work? Well, what kind of man would he be if he didn't kiss your damp, splotchy cheeks until you tire yourself out and fall asleep in his arms?

Not one he'd want to be, that's for sure.

[snowstormarts]

hiii can u write more hcs or whatever about cam… there’s literally nothing for him and i want that stinky man >:3

Holding your hand as we spin in a circle with Cam who's not impressed. All to say is I love this trash man, the only reason I didnt get his romance route is because of the Empathy Block...But enough of that and more to headcanons for him! [If anyone else has Cam stuff please let me know, I need this man on such a deep level]

Reblogs & Likes are appreciated and feel free to send Requests, Questions, ect to my Inbox ^^

🗑 Cam Headcanons 🗑

[Divider Credit]

- He can't & won't stand for anyone bullying someone for something they can't control. He had his own experiences with bullying for being born as a trashcan so he will often step in and scare the bullies away before leaving [he has to keep his reputation as the silent guy who hates everyone]

- He has a opossum plushy that he keeps hidden away, it's his support & vent buddy when days are especially hard and he just needs to let it out somehow

- Don't let his clothes trick you, he might not look the strongest but underneath it all he has some muscles. Carrying trash around and creating a home with it is going to take some strength, it's like a free work out for him

- If you're dating him get ready for him to be the sweetest guy ever, you can literally walk into a room and see him make someone cower in fear only to turn around and face you with a smile and a huff. Before walking like nothing happened up to you, cupping your cheek and letting your foreheads touch as he asks if you were looking for him. ["Did I keep you waiting my little opossum? Yeah? Then let's get out of here and I will make it up to you, how does cuddling and snacking sound while we bitch about your ex-boss?"]

- Knows a ton about "pest-animals" like pigeons, raccoons, opossums & different kinds of bugs, you ever need some background noises or need to be grounded? This man has your back!

- If you ever propose to him/ask when he's gonna tie the knot he will be shocked, he never expected to date anyone let alone get married to someone who truly loves him for who he is.

"Is this some kind of cruel joke, maybe one of those challenges online? Or are you serious about this? Just in case you've forgotten I'm a trashcan, you sure you can handle that? That also means having to deal with me and my shit dai-huh? Y-You're serious, you even got the ring...Well then, I guess I might have a ring here somewhere for you just let me go find it... Oh, and doll? I love you, I really do. Thanks for choosing to stick with me even when I have my shitty moments, you're the best future spouse anyone could have wished for."

[slattlicker]

can u do one where maybe schlatt or reader dont see eachother for a while (maybe like a month or so, one is on a bussines trip maybe schlatt recording something in japan again or whatever u get the point) and in the meanwhile reader gets her nips pierced and donesz tell him and when they reunite again they do the woohoo and schlatt goes feral over them

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * return of the rack ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: your long-distance boyfriend finally comes home. he’s jetlagged, lovesick, and touch-starved—and you’ve been hiding something from him. but when he finds out? it’s over for both of you. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: for the anon who sent me that amazing piercing reveal request—this one’s for you ♡ thank you for such a juicy prompt!! i’m just a little english major with no self-control. hope this hits everything you wanted.

warnings: explicit content (MDNI !!!) · long-distance reunion · emotional sex · tit worship · oral fixation · titfucking · praise-heavy filth · funny, filthy, tender

✧✧✧

you’ve been trying to take the perfect photo for almost forty-five minutes.

not that you’ll ever admit that out loud.

your phone’s propped against your dresser mirror with a half-dead candle and your old student id keeping it steady. the lighting in your room is this golden kind of lazy—just late enough in the day to paint everything amber, just warm enough to highlight the soft swell of your chest and the barely-there glint of silver beneath your shirt.

you tug the tank top down again. carefully. slowly.

it’s one of those old sleep shirts, kind of loose, kind of sheer—the kind you only wear when you’re feeling soft and a little scandalous in private. and right now? it's doing exactly what you need it to: showing just enough, but not everything. you lean forward slightly, testing how the fabric stretches, how visible the piercings are when you breathe out—

yeah. you snap the pic.

and immediately toss your phone onto the bed with a quiet, “jesus christ.”

the nerves are stupid. schlatt’s your boyfriend. he’s literally seen you shirtless. he's had your boobs in his mouth. he’s buried his face between your thighs more times than you can count. but this?

this feels different.

maybe it’s because you did it while he was gone. maybe it’s because it was spontaneous. impulsive. a little selfish in the best way. he’d only been gone a week when the idea hit you like a train—like something small and bold and kind of reckless that you needed to do for yourself.

you remember walking into that piercing studio like you weren’t shaking the whole time. you remember gripping the sides of the chair so hard your knuckles ached. you remember the piercer’s gloves and the clamp and the—

okay. no. you’re not reliving it. you’re healed now. mostly. you can touch them now, at least, and you do—gently—fingertips ghosting over the metal like they’re something precious.

they're still so new.

your first piercings, even. not a single earring to your name, but now you’ve got twin bars sitting proud in your chest like little secrets.

and maybe that’s what makes your stomach twist.

you didn’t tell him. you wanted to. so many times. every phone call, every stupid “i miss you” text with the heart emoji that made you melt. but the words just wouldn’t come out. you wanted to see his face when he found out. you wanted to feel it—the surprise, the want, the slow unraveling of him going feral in real time.

you wanted him to react.

so now you’re taking pictures. for yourself, mostly. just to see what you look like. to test your angles. to pretend, maybe, that you’d have the guts to send one. eventually.

another photo. this time lying on your back, shirt off, hair a little messy, hand ghosting over your ribs. the bars peek out just enough to catch the light.

you look good. you look hot, actually.

and that’s when the facetime rings.

incoming call: schlatt ♡

you let out the loudest full-body gasp known to man, scrambling for the shirt you just peeled off. your phone nearly topples off the bed. you answer, breathless.

his face fills the screen—messy curls under a hoodie, earbuds in, smile lazy.

“hey, baby.”

your heart is racing. “h-hi—hi. hi. what’s up?”

he tilts his head. “why do you look all flushed?”

you whip the blanket over yourself like a sinner in church. “i don’t—what? no. it’s hot in here.”

he grins, suspicious. “mhm. right.”

you glance around, looking for a distraction, anything. and then his voice cuts in again—so casual, like it doesn’t make your chest ache.

“think you can pick me up from the airport in like… two hours?”

you blink. “wait. what? you’re—you’re coming home today?!”

he nods. “figured i’d surprise you.”

he pauses, then leans a little closer to the screen.

“you miss me or what?”

your brain is screaming. your nipples definitely throb. and you’re sitting here, clutching a blanket like a victorian widow, pretending like you weren’t just arching for your own camera three minutes ago.

“…yeah,” you say. “i missed you.”

✧ ✧ ✧

you’re pacing by baggage claim, heart hammering, lips bitten raw, and currently being smothered alive by the most padded, over-engineered bra victoria ever refused to admit was a war crime.

you hadn’t worn this one in months. maybe years. it was a last-minute decision, panicked and breathless, the second you started imagining all the ways schlatt might react. the teasing. the staring.

you chickened out. and now?

you’re wearing a bra that might as well be classified as personal armor.

it’s one of those ridiculous contraptions with thick molded cups that force your boobs into a shape not found in nature. the kind with wire that digs into your ribs if you so much as exhale wrong. the kind that lifts, separates, compresses, confuses the populace. you feel like your chest is being served on a tray.

and yeah. you look obscenely stacked proportionally. like “local woman found toppling over in terminal c” kind of stacked. boobs up to your throat. they bounce when you breathe. your tank top is straining like it’s fighting for its life.

you don’t even look like you. you look like someone trying to distract airport security.

and of course, that’s exactly what schlatt sees first.

he’s walking out of the gate like a damn slow-motion movie—duffel bag slung over his shoulder, hair a little messy, hoodie pushed back, that familiar tired grin spreading across his face the second he spots you.

“there’s my girl.”

your breath catches. your limbs move before your brain can. you run to him, full-speed, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

the hug is immediate and full-bodied, like instinct. he drops his bag with a soft oof and wraps his arms around you with the force of someone who’s been waiting weeks to do this. his hoodie smells like plane air and cologne and cheap ramen and him. you bury your face into his chest, letting your whole body melt into him.

“missed you so fucking much,” he mumbles into your hair. “jesus, you feel good.”

you smile into his hoodie, voice muffled. “missed you more.”

it’s warm. familiar. a little unreal. he sways with you, just slightly, like it’s muscle memory. and for a few long seconds, there’s no airport. no gate. no anxiety gnawing at your ribs. just him. just this.

and then—he pulls back a little.

just enough to look at you.

his hands stay anchored to your waist. his eyes scan your face like he’s checking for damage, soaking you in like a man starved. there’s something so soft in the way he looks at you—lids a little heavy, lips parted like he wants to say something but doesn’t want to break the moment.

then his eyes drop.

they linger. and linger. and then…

they squint.

“…what the fuck happened to your tits?”

you slap his arm. “schlatt—!”

“no, i’m serious. you been eatin’ whole cows while i was gone? you get a boob job?”

you laugh—sputter, really—shoving him a little while heat climbs up your neck. “it’s the bra, jesus. can you be normal for like five seconds?”

“i am being normal,” he mutters, eyeing your chest again. “it's just that you weren’t packin’ double m cups when i left.”

“it’s just…” you fidget, gripping your bag strap. “i didn’t know how you’d react...we’ll talk about it at home, okay?”

he raises an eyebrow.

“so you did do somethin’. uh huh. yeah. i knew it.”

he grabs his duffel bag, slings it over his shoulder, and leans close, voice low and just the slightest bit smug:

“gonna get it outta you one way or another, sweetheart.”

and he does not let it go the entire walk to the car.

✧ ✧ ✧

you’ve been trying to take the perfect photo for almost forty-five minutes.

not that you’ll ever admit that out loud.

your phone’s propped against your dresser mirror with a half-dead candle and your old student id keeping it steady. the lighting in your room is this golden kind of lazy—just late enough in the day to paint everything amber, just warm enough to highlight the soft swell of your chest and the barely-there glint of silver beneath your shirt.

you tug the tank top down again. carefully. slowly.

it’s one of those old sleep shirts, kind of loose, kind of sheer—the kind you only wear when you’re feeling soft and a little scandalous in private. and right now? it's doing exactly what you need it to: showing just enough, but not everything. you lean forward slightly, testing how the fabric stretches, how visible the piercings are when you breathe out—

yeah. you snap the pic.

and immediately toss your phone onto the bed with a quiet, “jesus christ.”

the nerves are stupid. schlatt’s your boyfriend. he’s literally seen you shirtless. he's had your boobs in his mouth. he’s buried his face between your thighs more times than you can count. but this?

this feels different.

maybe it’s because you did it while he was gone. maybe it’s because it was spontaneous. impulsive. a little selfish in the best way. he’d only been gone a week when the idea hit you like a train—like something small and bold and kind of reckless that you needed to do for yourself.

you remember walking into that piercing studio like you weren’t shaking the whole time. you remember gripping the sides of the chair so hard your knuckles ached. you remember the piercer’s gloves and the clamp and the—

okay. no. you’re not reliving it. you’re healed now. mostly. you can touch them now, at least, and you do—gently—fingertips ghosting over the metal like they’re something precious.

they're still so new.

your first piercings, even. not a single earring to your name, but now you’ve got twin bars sitting proud in your chest like little secrets.

and maybe that’s what makes your stomach twist.

you didn’t tell him. you wanted to. so many times. every phone call, every stupid “i miss you” text with the heart emoji that made you melt. but the words just wouldn’t come out. you wanted to see his face when he found out. you wanted to feel it—the surprise, the want, the slow unraveling of him going feral in real time.

you wanted him to react.

so now you’re taking pictures. for yourself, mostly. just to see what you look like. to test your angles. to pretend, maybe, that you’d have the guts to send one. eventually.

another photo. this time lying on your back, shirt off, hair a little messy, hand ghosting over your ribs. the bars peek out just enough to catch the light.

you look good. you look hot, actually.

and that’s when the facetime rings.

incoming call: schlatt ♡

you let out the loudest full-body gasp known to man, scrambling for the shirt you just peeled off. your phone nearly topples off the bed. you answer, breathless.

his face fills the screen—messy curls under a hoodie, earbuds in, smile lazy.

“hey, baby.”

your heart is racing. “h-hi—hi. hi. what’s up?”

he tilts his head. “why do you look all flushed?”

you whip the blanket over yourself like a sinner in church. “i don’t—what? no. it’s hot in here.”

he grins, suspicious. “mhm. right.”

you glance around, looking for a distraction, anything. and then his voice cuts in again—so casual, like it doesn’t make your chest ache.

“think you can pick me up from the airport in like… two hours?”

you blink. “wait. what? you’re—you’re coming home today?!”

he nods. “figured i’d surprise you.”

he pauses, then leans a little closer to the screen.

“you miss me or what?”

your brain is screaming. your nipples definitely throb. and you’re sitting here, clutching a blanket like a victorian widow, pretending like you weren’t just arching for your own camera three minutes ago.

“…yeah,” you say. “i missed you.”

✧ ✧ ✧

you’re pacing by baggage claim, heart hammering, lips bitten raw, and currently being smothered alive by the most padded, over-engineered bra victoria ever refused to admit was a war crime.

you hadn’t worn this one in months. maybe years. it was a last-minute decision, panicked and breathless, the second you started imagining all the ways schlatt might react. the teasing. the staring.

you chickened out. and now?

you’re wearing a bra that might as well be classified as personal armor.

it’s one of those ridiculous contraptions with thick molded cups that force your boobs into a shape not found in nature. the kind with wire that digs into your ribs if you so much as exhale wrong. the kind that lifts, separates, compresses, confuses the populace. you feel like your chest is being served on a tray.

and yeah. you look obscenely stacked proportionally. like “local woman found toppling over in terminal c” kind of stacked. boobs up to your throat. they bounce when you breathe. your tank top is straining like it’s fighting for its life.

you don’t even look like you. you look like someone trying to distract airport security.

and of course, that’s exactly what schlatt sees first.

he’s walking out of the gate like a damn slow-motion movie—duffel bag slung over his shoulder, hair a little messy, hoodie pushed back, that familiar tired grin spreading across his face the second he spots you.

“there’s my girl.”

your breath catches. your limbs move before your brain can. you run to him, full-speed, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

the hug is immediate and full-bodied, like instinct. he drops his bag with a soft oof and wraps his arms around you with the force of someone who’s been waiting weeks to do this. his hoodie smells like plane air and cologne and cheap ramen and him. you bury your face into his chest, letting your whole body melt into him.

“missed you so fucking much,” he mumbles into your hair. “jesus, you feel good.”

you smile into his hoodie, voice muffled. “missed you more.”

it’s warm. familiar. a little unreal. he sways with you, just slightly, like it’s muscle memory. and for a few long seconds, there’s no airport. no gate. no anxiety gnawing at your ribs. just him. just this.

and then—he pulls back a little.

just enough to look at you.

his hands stay anchored to your waist. his eyes scan your face like he’s checking for damage, soaking you in like a man starved. there’s something so soft in the way he looks at you—lids a little heavy, lips parted like he wants to say something but doesn’t want to break the moment.

then his eyes drop.

they linger. and linger. and then…

they squint.

“…what the fuck happened to your tits?”

you slap his arm. “schlatt—!”

“no, i’m serious. you been eatin’ whole cows while i was gone? you get a boob job?”

you laugh—sputter, really—shoving him a little while heat climbs up your neck. “it’s the bra, jesus. can you be normal for like five seconds?”

“i am being normal,” he mutters, eyeing your chest again. “it's just that you weren’t packin’ double m cups when i left.”

“it’s just…” you fidget, gripping your bag strap. “i didn’t know how you’d react…we’ll talk about it at home, okay?”

he raises an eyebrow.

“so you did do somethin’. uh huh. yeah. i knew it.”

he grabs his duffel bag, slings it over his shoulder, and leans close, voice low and just the slightest bit smug:

“gonna get it outta you one way or another, sweetheart.”

and he does not let it go the entire walk to the car.

✧ ✧ ✧

the door barely clicks shut before he’s on you.

his mouth is on yours, greedy and hot and so fucking needy it makes your knees buckle. you giggle into it—already breathless—as he walks you backward, one hand still gripping his duffel and the other sliding down your back like he’s checking if you’re still real.

“didn’t think i’d be gone long enough to forget how you taste,” he murmurs between kisses, voice all low heat and gravel.

“you’re ridiculous,” you breathe, clutching at his hoodie. “you’re the one who ran off to japan.”

“and you’re the one who picked me up looking like that. you knew what you were doing.”

you didn’t, not really, but you’re not exactly complaining.

he drops the bag somewhere behind you. kicks the door the rest of the way shut with his heel. you barely have time to register the living room before your back is pressed to the wall, his thigh sliding between yours, his mouth dragging down your jaw.

“whole car ride, babe,” he mutters against your skin, “i was sittin’ there just tryna breathe...relax after my long ass flight, and you’re over there yelling at the guy in front of us like your tits aren't beeping the horn for you. what was i supposed to do?”

your laugh turns into a gasp when his hands find your hips, yanking you closer.

you should stop. you meant to stop. meant to say something. to ease him into it gently. but he’s kissing you again, hard, one hand already sliding under your shirt—and you forget. you completely forget.

because it’s just him. home. warm. wanting. and it feels so good to be wanted.

he breaks the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt off.

“c’mere. let me get this armor off you.”

his fingers fumble at your back—expertly, annoyingly fast—and with one practiced flick, the bra gives way.

he peels it off.

and then he freezes.

you blink up at him, chest rising and falling, lips kiss-swollen and barely able to catch your breath.

“schlatt?”

he’s just staring.

then slowly—like he’s afraid to jinx it—he cups one breast in his hand. runs his thumb over the metal.

“…no. fucking. way.”

oh.

oh fuck.

“i forgot,” you blurt, eyes wide. “i meant to—schlatt, i meant to tell you—”

but he doesn’t even hear you.

his pupils blow wide. his hand tightens on your waist. he’s grinning, borderline maniacal, voice suddenly raspier than it has any right to be.

“you got your nipples pierced,” he says, half-laughing. “you went and did this while i was gone? and didn’t tell me?”

“i was nervous!” you squeak.

“you were nervous?? baby, i’m—i’m losing my fucking mind right now.”

and then he’s on you.

mouth on your chest, fingers everywhere, muttering curses and praise and wild, unhinged things like “how the fuck do you expect me to be normal ever again,” and “you want me to die, don’t you.”

he doesn’t even wait.

his mouth is on your chest like he’s starving—tongue hot and wet, dragging slow between the piercings before closing around one with a groan that vibrates through your whole body.

you gasp—sharp and shaky—because they’re still sensitive. still a little too new. but god, it feels good. it feels like everything in you tightens at once, toes curling against the floor, thighs squeezing around his hips like muscle memory.

you can’t help it. your body knows him. remembers him.

“fuck,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look. really look. his thumb brushes over the barbell, slow, reverent, like he’s not sure it’s real. “you are so fucking hot. i can’t—i literally can’t believe you did this. how the fuck did i land you.”

you can’t think of a single coherent word, let alone say one.

your chest feels like it’s glowing under his hand. every nerve from collarbone to navel lights up like electricity, sharp and dizzying and hungry. and then—your back hits the couch.

you barely realize he’s walked you there. you just know you’re sitting now, breath punched out of you, and he’s already dragging your leggings off—voice low and shaky and nothing like the cocky tone he usually has when he teases you.

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he mutters, like he’s scolding himself. like he’s pacing in his own head. “so fuckin’ perfect. brand new tits for me and you didn’t even tell me? shit, baby—i’m gonna lose my mind.”

his hands are on your thighs, spreading them apart, rough palms sliding over skin like he needs to memorize every inch before it slips away again. like he doesn’t trust that you’re really here.

you open your mouth to say something. anything. but then his hand cups between your legs and your whole body jumps.

you’re soaked.

you feel embarrassingly exposed—slick and warm and pulsing, thighs trembling with how much you’ve missed this. him. the way he touches you like he can’t help it. like you’re the only thing that exists.

“fuckin’ missed this,” he says, and it’s not a line. it’s not dirty talk. it’s just true.

you nod, because you’re the same. you missed this so much it ached. you slept in his old t-shirts and reread your text threads and counted days until he was back. and now he’s here. and he’s hard. and he’s pushing his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock and you swear your lungs stop working.

you reach for him.

he catches your wrist. not to stop you—but to kiss it.

soft. stupidly soft.

and then he’s pushing into you.

you moan—loud, desperate, your head falling back with a dull thud against the cushions as he sinks in deep, all at once. there’s no teasing. no slow adjustment. it’s just full-body contact, heat against heat, everything you’ve been starving for crashing into place in one sharp, overwhelming moment.

you forgot how good he feels. thick and hot and perfect, pressed flush against your hips with a groan that curls through your ribs and lives there.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise. “you—baby, you’re fuckin’ tight.”

“you’ve been gone,” you breathe, voice cracking like you’ve been holding it in for weeks. “i missed you.”

and he loses it.

he leans in, presses his forehead to yours, thrusting hard enough to make the couch creak beneath you both. your legs wrap around his waist out of instinct, trying to hold him closer, tighter, deeper. you can feel yourself squeezing around him with every thrust, and you know he feels it too by the way his jaw locks and his breathing falls apart.

and then—god,—his hand finds your chest again.

thumb brushing over the piercing, palm warm against your skin.

you gasp. again. high and helpless.

“still sensitive, huh?” he whispers, voice just rough enough to send a shiver down your spine. “bet you touched yourself thinkin’ about me sucking on ’em.”

“i didn’t,” you gasp. “i—I wanted it to be you.”

his hips stutter, eyes snapping open to look at you—something sharp and stunned swimming behind the want.

“fuck,” he groans. “you’re gonna make me cum so fast, baby.”

and for a second, you think he might.

but then—he swallows. hard. sets his jaw like he’s fighting with himself.

and you watch it—watch him choose not to let go. not yet.

he’s breathing like he’s been running, chest rising and falling fast against yours, sweat starting to bead at his temples. but his pace slows, just barely—enough to make every thrust feel deeper. heavier. drawn out like he’s trying to memorize the way you fit together.

“i missed you so much,” he says, voice rough and uneven. “you don’t—you don’t fuckin’ know.”

you do. god, you do. it’s all you’ve felt since he walked through the airport gate—like your body had been waiting without you, aching in your bones and your blood and your fingertips.

you open your mouth to say it. to say me too, or i love you, or something that doesn’t make your throat feel like it’s about to close.

but then he rolls his hips—just right—and your voice breaks on a moan instead.

he groans. low, desperate.

“that’s it,” he whispers. “so fucking good.”

your legs tighten around him, body arching into his, fingers gripping at his shoulder like he’s all that’s holding you up. and maybe he is.

he slides his hand between you—presses his palm flat over your chest again, thumb tracing your piercing in slow, lazy circles like he knows exactly what it does to you now.

and it’s too much.

you’re already so full. already so close. and the added friction, the heat, the thrill of being seen like this—laid out and shaking and known in this way—it’s all stacking on top of itself in your stomach, hot and heavy and tight.

“schlatt—” you gasp, voice cracking.

he looks at you. really looks. and his face softens.

“i got you,” he murmurs. “just let go. i’ve got you.”

and you do.

you come with a cry—loud and open and shameless, your whole body tensing, then breaking. it rips through you like a snapped wire—sharp and fast and blinding, curling your toes and flattening your spine against the couch as your hands clutch at him for dear life.

and he feels it.

he lets out the most wrecked groan against your throat, holding you through it—letting you ride it out with slow, shallow thrusts as your body jerks around him in waves.

you’re gasping. whimpering. blinking hard against the blur in your eyes.

“fuck, fuck, baby,” he breathes, voice coming apart. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

your muscles twitch. your thighs are still shaking. your whole body is buzzing with the kind of heat that leaves you boneless and ruined.

he kisses your cheek. your jaw. the corner of your mouth.

“that’s my girl,” he whispers, all hoarse and reverent. “you did so good. so fuckin’ good for me.”

and you believe it. even if your brain is barely working.

you’re so gone, you don’t realize he’s pulled out until his cum-slick cock presses against your stomach, twitching in his hand.

you blink at him. still breathless. still warm and open and raw.

he’s staring at your chest again.

then—quietly, still panting—he says:

“lemme cum on ’em.”

your stomach flips.

“wha…?” you manage.

he swallows. nods, like he’s reassuring himself. like he’s asking permission, even as his hand keeps moving around the base of his cock.

“your tits,” he says, eyes locked on the piercings. “lemme fuck ’em, baby. i gotta. i have to. please?”

and you—you don’t think. you just nod.

he kisses you, fast and crooked, missing your mouth a little like he can’t think straight anymore. like he needs to touch every part of you to stay grounded.

“fuck—thank you,” he mutters, voice gone wrecked. “fuckin’—thank you.”

you barely process him moving. you’re too loose-limbed and blinking slow to react. he kneels back, pulling you with him gently until you’re upright, your spine brushing the back of the couch, thighs still parted lazily across the cushions.

your chest rises and falls. your skin’s still flushed from the orgasm. and your tits—

they’re still shining. spit-slick from his mouth, flushed and sensitive, the tiny metal bars glinting in the low light like jewelry.

you glance down and see them like he’s seeing them.

and yeah.

you’d wanna fuck ’em too.

“press ’em together for me,” he says, rough. “please, baby. lemme—lemme see it.”

his voice breaks on that last part, and it does something to you. you bring your hands up, slow, still shaking slightly, and squeeze your breasts together between your palms.

you can feel the cool metal of the bars press into the softness of your skin. can feel the sweat, the heat, the need.

he groans—loud. hand stroking himself at the sight, chest flushed, eyes wide and ravenous.

“jesus christ,” he breathes. “you’re—you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

he shuffles forward on his knees until he’s right there, cock in hand, flushed and glistening, already leaking at the tip. his fingers tremble as he slots himself between the valley you’ve made, pressing into the warmth of your skin with a shuddering inhale.

“ohhh my god.”

he thrusts once—just once—and it punches a sound out of both of you.

the slick slide of him between your tits is obscene. hot. messy. you can feel every ridge of him drag over the swell of your chest, the way his tip nudges the curve of your collarbone. the way the piercings barely catch on the motion.

he’s already losing rhythm.

“you’re so hot,” he gasps. “you’re so fucking hot. i’ve been thinkin’ about you like this the whole fuckin’ trip—shit—baby—”

you just nod. can’t speak. can’t look away.

his hand joins yours, squeezing around the outside of your tits, fucking up into the softness like he needs it. like he wants to burn the image of it into his skull.

his eyes flicker—up, down, back to your chest, your face, the piercings again.

“gonna cum,” he pants. “gonna—fuck—lemme cum on ’em, please. fuckin’ lemme—lemme—”

“yeah?” you breathe, voice wrecked and sticky-sweet. “you want these that bad, baby?”

your thumbs flick over the barbells as you squeeze your tits tighter for him, watching the way his eyes snap to the movement.

“then fucking do it.”

and then he does.

with a shout that comes from deep, he cums hard—thick and hot and everywhere. ropes of it across your chest, your throat, your collarbones, dripping down the piercings like they were made to hold it. he keeps thrusting through it, jerking slightly, riding the last of it out until he’s completely spent, cock twitching between your tits as he collapses forward onto his elbows.

his forehead drops to your shoulder. he’s breathing so hard it rocks you both a little.

you sit there, still holding your tits together, heart hammering, cum cooling on your chest, mouth parted in absolute disbelief at what just happened.

and then—

��...okay,” he pants, hoarse. “next time? warn me if you upgrade your body again. i’m not emotionally prepared for this shit.”

you wheeze out a laugh.

“i’ll consider it.”

“consider it strongly. i’m tryin’ to live a long life.”

“you just made a mess on my chest.”

he groans, flops fully onto you, kisses your shoulder like an apology and a thank-you and a “holy shit” all at once.

“worth it.”

[hollyhomburg]

@mocha000 I live for shy hobi- mostly because that’s how I see him in real life like he’s actually quite reserved in situations but once he’s off the hook- he’s so heavy you know? Like he so clearly wears what he wants on his sleeve. It’s letting you see those wants that’s hard for him 

Ohhhhh the begging to be defended, I feel this also like- why can’t I just have it, I just want it so bad too- just someone who is unequivocally on your side. Some parts of that just feel so- ugh like soothing? If only <3 I hope both of us get that one day. 

Oh I love the idea of hobi being her only pack alpha too- the fact that she’ll never know another power as absolute as his, the implicit submission of her letting him be her only one. Ugh they’re dynamic in this is really. fuck- 

Oh it’s totally supposed to feel a little patronizing. In this universe omegas are a little patronized in general. The trick is like- making it feel loving. I think I strayed a little bit from that in this at second glance, because several people mentioned being triggered by it but oh well- there’s nothing I can change about it now T-T

Yoonmin bickering is my favorite touch- I love that you highlighted it here lol. 

Oh totally in omegaspace- I think that she probably fell into it often and tried to resist her more ‘childish’ nature because her parents judged her for it, but she’s definitely feeling so small in that section- probably dropping too poor thing has never felt or been safe in her whole life. 

Oh I think there was some miscommunication about her going to college! She actually did not really go- maybe for a semester or so but not much longer than that! 

In my mind she lived somewhere in middle America, I picture her house and life being full of desolate cornfields and a homey but worn house. Completely isolated from many many things. To being dragged away to a big city when she was found out full of lots of sights and smells. 

I think that they probably take numbers of average sales before and after introducing an omega, the ohs probably takes statistics down for it. 

One thing that I don’t like about the love at first sight trope is that you don’t see the like immediate obsession most of the time? Like I think it sticks a lot more if you see it like this and makes more sense. 

I am also craving some good ol yoongi praise. Maybe I really need to write that little yoongi chapter in hold your breath, I kinda like that it’s open ended. Seeing him once is never enough for me T-T

Okay but it would be such a power trip to be an omega in a pack and be like “I don’t want you to knot me like ever, unless you’ve earned it” I imagine she tried something like that at the beginning with them because she actually likes being a center but…I think it probably caused them to fight and devolve some sort of scent sickness so she ended up letting them 

Oh I can just picture his nausea at seeing her so sick too- reading it back, he really is sick with worry- poor hobi. 

I actually love the idea of her talking to the life-sized teddybear and them catching her babbling to it in omegaspace. 

Thank you so much for your comment! I’m sorry it took me a full week to respond to it! It wasn’t my indention but I was away from my computer for a while and responding on my phone is annoying verging on impossible because I can’t scroll up and look at what you said and I wanted to give your usual response the same kind of dedicated answer that I usually do <3 

Hold your Breath (Count to Seven)(2)

(Pack alpha Hoseok focus, Background ot7 x reader, Omegaverse, Forced Caretaking, Omega scarcity au)

୨୧‧₊˚ Summary: Hoseok will never forgive the people who did this too you. Never. his anger comes out in strange ways. His love too.

୨୧ ‧₊˚ Word Count: 14.4k

୨୧ ‧₊˚ Tags: Omegaverse au, omega scarcity, forced caretaking, Dom/sub undertones, dom! jimin x m/c, spanking, Discipline, idol au, Pack alpha hoseok x omega! m/c, Sickfic, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Background ot7 x reader, chronic health issues, themes of trauma, referenced family issues/childhood abuse, healing, Past Medical mistreatment, past neglect, Eventual smut, non-chronological storyline

୨୧ ‧₊˚ A/N: ah well... people said they wanted to see a bit more of dom jimin so~ hopefully this scratches an itch! well :( remember when i told you about my stressful life events that were on the horizon? well they're here <3 i fly out to california tomorrow for my sisters wedding lol watch us go no contact after this. but i wont even care because at least i have bts back lol

There are no second chances when it comes to omegas.

Although you tend to view what your parents did to you as a simple betrayal, Hoseok can’t see it as anything other than condemning. Abuse, neglect. Take your pick because each makes him equally as angry. Forgiveness is not something that comes to him easily. Is that a flaw or a virtue?

Occasionally they reach out or try to get in contact with you. They ask how you’re doing. Where you’re going, if you're coming home any time soon. Usually with videos at the airport attached and too much hope in their words. They just want to keep track of their daughter. they say. They just want to make sure you’re alright.

Hoseok calls Bullshit on that in a fucking heartbeat.

You’ve been no contact with them for years now. Handing over the burden of contact to Hoseok was an easy concession to make to your pack alpha. Of course, he would handle everything for you. Of course, this was his responsibility.

You’ve asked him to tell you if anyone gets sick if anyone dies, or if they make an effort towards a real apology. You won’t be bothered with the half-measures until then.

You couldn't have imagined our stress at the time. We just wanted to make sure you had the option. Omega's struggle to be free because of the way the world works. You could handle it. We only wanted you to do your best. You don't need an alpha, you've always been strong enough without one. You never needed all the things that other omegas needed anyway

It's my first time having a child- of course all parents make mistakes.

Please refrain from contacting my pack at this time. Any further action on your part will only result in a restraining order. 

You're exactly the kind of alpha we were afraid of.

They have his number and his number only; you only ask to see their texts every now and then. Hoseok only sometimes decides it's safe to show you. It's up to his discretion if you’re too fragile or if you’re only going to use the texts to make yourself feel guilty.

The only contact info they have is Hoseok's and even then, he rarely responds beyond telling them that you're still not ready, that you might never be. He’s only ever polite on your behalf but still sometimes if he's feeling particularly sensitive about the issue of your health he does tell them to fuck off.

That only ever gets a scolding look from you later when you inevitably ask to see their texts and he lets you see. And Hoseok acts scolded even though he can scent that underneath your misery- you're faintly pleased.

You don't have to ask him to defend you. You'll never have to beg for that.

Although you'd said you were perfectly well adjusted to life as an omega when they'd first met you the truth is that while you'd been able to scent and nest like any other omega, your instincts had long gone dormant and quiet. But they're fully awake now, after living with 5 alphas and 2 betas. They ring loud and clear.

You just struggle to listen to them sometimes.

The rest of the pack is on the same page too. The pack is your family in every sense of the world, you don’t need the people who hurt you anymore. Sometimes- the idea of them being your family gets a little tangled with everything else. Omega's need care, they need to be looked after, you know this.

You're not their child, but you are their omega. And that comes with a special set of responsibilities.

They might have reacted a little bit over the top with the mothering at the beginning. All packs go through an adjustment period when an omega gets introduced. You hadn't been theirs for more than half a year before you'd slammed the door in Namjoon's face and called him out on it after a particularly rough day.

But slamming doors is not something that Hoseok allows- not from the pups or from you.

Hoseok was there to mediate, the rest of the pack lingering in the vicinity too. To hear and watch over you. Nervous at the stressed tone of your voice. Taehyung and Jungkook rough house and hassle jin, either helping with dinner or getting in the way of it. Hoseok knows your instinct is to hide. But doing this here in the living room where everyone can see and participate is important.

You need to learn that you don't have to hide from them, that none of you, not your needs or your intentions- are too much for them.

Your omega is never going to feel safe and docile with all of them unless you stop hiding it.

So You and Namjoon sit on opposite ends of the couch. Jimin there in the armchair ready for your inevitable punishment. Hoseok will let him take the reigns in this and will let Jimin have this. The whole pack has been on edge all day. Has been able to sense that you're close to breaking- it's only Namjoon's luck that he'd been caught in the crossfire.

Having Jimin do the punishing has several Uses. One- Jimin needs it, and two- as a beta he'll be able to get you down more gently than any of the alphas. You'd get scared at the feeling of your instincts take over and it would have the opposite of the intended effect. If Namjoon brought you down into omega space you might go down so quick and drop so suddenly it would be scary. It wouldn't feel like a choice at all and it wouldn't be comforting.

let alone if Hoseok was the one to do it. If he ever dared to use alpha voice on you you might pass out. You need to understand that you need this, just as much as they do.

Hoseok will handle the aftermath- will tuck the alpha and you under either arm and soothe you later. He's watchful and prepared to step in if you need him. sitting in the chair legs splayed wide and inviting. fingers tapping out a rythem on the chair leg as he watches you squirm under the weight of so many eyes.

He's getting a bit better at letting the others handle you. They need this- to watch and make you submit just as much as Hoseok does.

Jimin sits, legs crossed, leaning his chin on his hand, watching and waiting for Namjoon and you to finish arguing. 

"You're not my father Namjoon, I don't want you to act like my fucking dad when you're my partner. I get that sometimes- you have these instincts- but it doesn't make me feel good." You're close to tears, eyes suspiciously glassy. Your head feels fuzzy but panicky like everything is happening faster than you can handle it. Leaving you overwhelmed and off kilter.

You glance at Hoseok, and he stares back impassively. Rubbing a finger across his bottom lip- but he won't intervene unless you actually do cry or you ask him too. You're just starting to learn to trust your instincts. To understand why your breath goes even around him and why things are easier to sort through when he's touching you- either with a hand on the small of your back or holding yours so delicately- like you're fragile.

The others understand but you don't. you've never had a pack alpha before. He's the only pack alpha you've ever known.

There is apart of him more wolf than man, that loves that fact. That he's your first and your only pack alpha, If Hoseok can help it.

And Hoseok is helping, that's what this is. Mediating. Making sure you adjust to the pack and the pack adjusts to you. Hoseok is here just as Jimin is as pack beta- to make things go smoothly.

It's strange. Growing up you'd been treated so often like you were strong. industructible no matter what. Any cold or sickness was met with a snear that you were tougher than that. Strong despite your shakiness, strong despite the fact that when pushed you broke. Strong like your weakness was ever something you could conquer. No matter how many times you told people you couldn't- that you couldn't stay awake to study, that you couldn't run any faster- that you couldn't try any harder without it hurting- they never listened.

But now everything's changed- the pack are almost too gentle with you. Too aware of just how fragile you can be sometimes. You like to act independent. You even might need to sometimes (Hoseok is not so convinced that you actually need independance or if you just feel like you need it). And while they'd never stop you they are always hovering a little. It's easier sometimes- but right now-

Right now it feels stifling. Right now it feels like you can't breath. Like something very bad is going to happen if you take too much- like they'll find out it's not worth it. That you're not enough. You lean away from Namjoon when he speaks, and you can see the hurt in his eyes as you do it. Can see that Jimin's eyes darken in disapproval, posture stiff.

But your skin feels like it's going to crawl off your body and leave you fleshy and exposed. Something fights to claw out of your chest. And no breath comes easy.

Until you look at Hoseok.

You're not sure where your anger comes from or if it even is anger at all. Afraid, you know you're a bit afraid of Namjoon, but afraid of what you can't say. You know that his controlling behavior isn't exactly why but you're too worked up to care. Maybe you've never been both afraid and safe before. Maybe you don't trust them to keep you safe.

A deep voice whispers in Hoseok's ear, hidden and telling. His desires and impulses dark and not to be shared. You don't trust them to handle everything for you.

Yet.

Hoseok waits, Hoseok reclines in the chair and watches. Namjoon's voice is deep and calm. Rational. You're the only one getting worked up here, but thats okay. All of this is okay.

"Our lives are all very controlled, they have to be to get to the level that we are. But we need to look after each other. I won't be made out to be some sort of monster when all I'm trying to do is make sure you take care of yourself. You can't expect me not to treat you the same way I treat the others."

"Now that's some bullshit. You treat me like-" your voice warbles, and Hoseok gives it another 10 seconds before he intervenes. "I might be your omega but I'm not some sort of pet. You never tell the others what they can and can't eat or do so why am I-"

Hoseok holds up his hand, stopping your train of thought. For what it's worth you instantly fall silent. Your shaking stops just a little at the show of dominance, at obeying. Your body wants it even if your mind struggles to comprehend it. It's like you're trying to listen to your omega and your instincts but you just can't hear them.

You need a push. And Hoseok is very gentle. Gentle enough to do the pushing.

Hoseok heart breaks a little at your overall posture, shoulders curled. In a big sweater of Yoongi's because you're feeling cold- even though it's spring and the house is kept at a comfy 70 deg for your comfort. Like you want your alpha's scent as close as possible even though they're right there. Like you don't trust them to stay.

That is their fault too. Comeback season can be stressful for you. Long hours and longer absences. This Hoseok knows. They'd finished a few days ago and they're home all the time now. It's a little bit of a whiplash for you and your omega. Going from feeling neglected to feeling stifled.

"Namjoon does do all of those things to us, it's his job as leader." You'd looked to Yoongi in the doorway suddenly.

He shrugs. "Things get stressful. Pack's like- exist to make sure we're all taken care of. I'd listen to any of them if they told me that I needed to rest. And it wouldn't matter who said it- if it was you or Hobi- I'd still listen." Yoongi being stern isn't something you're completely used to not yet. "And I'd do it without being a brat." Your breath hitches and you look away. 

Jimin scoffs, "just barely."

''Okay fine, I do it without being a brat to Hobi. You're lower in the hierarchy than I am and Joonies my equal."

"That's better." Jimin is satisfied. Voice a pur. But you find no comfort in Jimin's tone, or to him Nodding along to yoongi's words like it makes perfect sense. "You decide your boundaries, but we'll always step in if we feel you're being unsafe. You can't ask us not to do that."

Hobi had nodded, supplied. "You can always push back." He'd thought on it a minute more. "As long as you do it without being mean or hurtful."

With that Jimin had held his hand and beckoned for you, and your expression had turned nervous. "I didn't mean-"

"No buts pup. You know slamming doors is not something we do here. You almost hit Joonie in the face."

You look to Hoseok, double checking with him. "It doesn't matter that it was an accident." When you still don't move, Hoseok humms. "Do you need me to do your punishment today pup? Or will you let jiminie do it>"

"I want to do it." he says, just in case you need the reassurance. While the whole pack take their own turns disciplining you- certain members gravitate to it more organically. Namjoon- like Hoseok- struggles not to be overly gentle with you but Jimin has no such qualms.

You stay silent for a moment and Hoseok is about a second from making the choice for you before you get up slowly, tentatively moving in Jimin's direction. Not before looking back at Hobi for his approval.

Hoseok nearly wants to purr. His alpha already pacing- telling him look and see- you're already learning how to be good. How to obey not just him but the packmates too. He knows listening to your omega will only get easier over time so long as they keep showing you like this.

"But I said I was sorry and he forgave me for that." Namjoon had rubbed his nose. But none of them had moved, even though you're transitioning from discussion to punishment.

They all might like it a bit too much, watching Jimin handle you. It's ever so sweet the way you go down for the beta. Betas might have a lack of instincts- but they also make others come out.

"No buts."

You'd tentatively stood between Jimin's legs, the beta's hands smoothing up and down your waist, "take a deep breath honey. this isn't supposed to be scary."

"i know" but you still sound unsure. Hoseok had crossed his legs to watch, hiding a small smile behind his clasped hands. He might not be able to handle disciplining you himself quite yet- always too worried about being rough- but watching his pack get what they need under his watchful eye is something he greatly enjoys.

Especially with the way you squirm and eventually go docile. One day soon you won't fight your nature. The pack just has to get you there and get you used to this.

Your lower lip quivers, "I didn't mean to."

"We know. You're so good, you always take your settling like a good pup too."

Jimin's lips had looked awfully plush pressed to your knuckles. Kissing there once, then your wrist. Sliding the sleeve of your sweater up and over your elbow. Tipping his feet inward around your heels so that they trap you there between them. Squeezing your hips gently.

He kisses your elbow. "Now, would you rather I do it or Joonie?"

You stiffen, imperceptibly but it's there. "Would there be a difference?" Namjoon's eyes soften, and he shuffles just a little bit closer.

All of this bratting out and this disobedience is not in your nature. This is something that Hoseok knows deep down. It's all because alone you are unsafe. An omega alone in the world is a dangerous thing and you need the reminder of them close to feel their presence and their dominance. You weren't getting that, didn't know how to ask for it, and that's why you felt the need to act out.

You can be alone- you can be a perfectly functioning member of society without the pack but deep down, independence is not what you want or what you need.

Jimin hums thoughtfully considering your request, his other hand plays absentmindedly with the hem of your shorts. Slipping under. Rings flashing. Massaging you there a little, already warming you up. Your breath hitches.

"I think if Joonie does it, you'll only get 20. But if you ask for me- then it's 30."

Hoseok knows what he's doing, letting you choose, giving you a small amount of choice just to make you go down easier. You'd hovered, unsure. Stuttering. Seconds away from crumbling.

"Is it going to be here or- or-" You can't finish the sentence, and Jimin grins a little meanly. He likes making you say it. Likes it even more when you shy away.

"Is it going to be over your ass or pussy you mean? Your spanking?"

You squirm and Hoseok tips his legs wider, feeling himself grow hard. The whole house is silent, the sound of Jungkook and Taehyung roughhousing with Jin in the other room quieting to listen.

Jimin hums thoughtfully tugging down your pants and turning you around, practically making you twirl for them, you shuffle uneasily. Blushing too hard to meet Hoseok and Namjoon's eyes as they sit and watch. Keeping your legs tight together. Yoongi just kicks his hip against the doorframe and settles in.

Jimin appraises each, pinching you hard enough to make you jump. He wraps an arm around your waist, hand trailing down your stomach and then lower. Humming contemplatively.

"I think Joonie should be the one to choose. Hyung?"

~-~

It hadn't taken the pack long to realize that while you say you don't need parenting- you sort of do. The lines blur sometimes between being a Packmate and being a caretaker. It's hard to give you exactly what you need. Their instincts tell them to do things that aren't always straightforward.

So when your full-blooded parents reach out and ask for you, he makes the effort to tell them to fuck off it in a polite way. Mentioning lawyers and international omegan rights associations. And reminds them that they’re lucky they’re not in prison for what they did to you.

Your healing is something that Hoseok takes very very seriously.

All that pain and damage is a world away, not in this country and as far from you as Hoseok can make it. After finding out you were an omega you'd gone as far as you could from where you grew up, from all the people that knew you as a beta. Escaping into anonymity. Disappearing because you didn't know who to trust and how to be you anymore.  

Hoseok doesn’t like to think of you alone and afraid and adjusting on your own. But that’s what you’d been before them- alone. Coping and just barely. (This is not entirely true, you’d had a few years of light-hearted struggle sure. But the world supports omega’s at the very least, your struggle had been mostly internal- not that that makes it any better).

They're still dealing with the effects of their actions years later, not only psychologically. (You still struggle sometimes, too used and too comfortable with your independence, the pack does its best to let you keep your small freedoms within the confines of what they’re willing to allow. All to keep you safe, happy, and healthy.)  

But physically your health has never been steady.

They've taken you to omega specialist to omega specialist. Immunologist to immunologist. Each of them had recommended the same thing: time to adjust and closeness to your alphas. Regular scenting and exposure to dominance to get your body functioning as it should.

No less than 6 hours of recommended nesting time per day. More than the usual recommended 4 or the bare minimum 2 for omegas. Less than two hours of nesting daily would get the OHS (Omegan Health Services) called on any pack. Famous or not.

Omega's immune systems biologically need closeness with others. Mostly to soothe and help regulate body temperature and metabolism. Other omega nestmates would be ideal, but to be fair, having your betas on either side of you, stuck between Jiminie and Jin like a happy little sandwich does the trick most days.

But it also reminds you of other less happy times. Sometimes it's the alpha's you reach for because Jimin and Jin, as lovely as they are...

They bring up bad memories.

Your beta parents had suppressed your omega nature in two ways; By keeping you away from alpha’s and by feeding you large doses of suppressants every day or several times a day- to arrest your omegan nature.

Hoseok’s not sure what they planned on doing, if they were going to keep you hidden forever or just until you were old enough to understand and make the choice to be a beta on your own.

There were some parts of being an omega that were harder to suppress; even given their efforts. You have distant memories of it. Fond memories even if you wish they weren’t. Cuddling between the two of them in their bed finally finally feeling safe. The way they’d hold your hand carefully crossing the street. Drying your eyes after a skinned knee.

You don’t know if these things matter to you because you’re an omega or just because you miss the people who once claimed to love you.  

You’ve told him the story a handful of times. The pups only once. Hobi, Yoongi, and Namjoon know more because they'd had questions. Hoseok thinks about it more often than he'd ever admit to you. Namjoon too has the tendency to ruminate.

You'd grown suspicious over the years that the bitter drinks you were fed every morning were not keeping you healthy but instead making you sick beyond repair. You were never able to run as fast as the other beta’s during recess, always the slowest, always the shortest, always the smallest. Written up for sleeping in class.

Your body started to reject the smoothies the older you got, you'd vomit them up on accident. The bitter tang strange. Medicinal. The more determined your natural biology was to push through the worse you'd felt. You remember being in class, reprimanded for falling asleep again- trying to pick up your pencil only to have it fall to the floor. Your hand shaking too hard to hold it.

A tremor that you still occasionally get to this day. A tremor that omega’s only get if they undergo scent deprivation and instinct neglect. A syndrome carefully outlined for all alphas and beta’s once they go through omegan education in primary school.

You’d been given that too. You're smart. You’d started to connect the dots.

Certain things never added up about your childhood. You were sent to an all-beta school and your parents lived in a remote area. Your nearest neighbors miles and miles away. Why did they move from the city shortly after you’d been born? Why were they recluses now when before they'd hopped from city to city? They don't even let you go shopping with your friends or to the store with them on your own.

They teach you languages you'll never use, educate you more and more- and push you harder and harder. They never let you rest or sleep past a certain time in the morning.

They never let you nest.

You always went to a 'family friend' for blood tests. You always had doctors come to your house and not the other way around. There have always been glances given over your head, knowing looks that you are kept ignorant of. Tense conversations overheard, disdainful looks when you ask for larger clothing or when you ask for affection or when you ask for anything.

When you need anything.

It got clearer the closer it got to falling apart. Your mother freaked out after you went to a friend’s house after school. A friend who had an alpha for a father. The next morning, your father had grown panicked when you’d forgotten your morning breakfast smoothie, had driven all the way to school to give it to you. He hadn’t left until he’d watched you drink it all.

“You need to listen to me. I know you don't understand right now but this is very very dangerous for you if you don't do everything I say. You'll lose everything we've ever given you.”

You’d stopped taking them secretly, just to confirm your suspicions. Under the full assumption that you’d been making it all up in your head and that a week of skipped breakfast would hardly cause a cataclysm.

But it had only taken a few short days before you’d collapsed at school and been rushed to the hospital, not your first heat but a pseudo one.

Alpha’s- there are alpha’s here. You’re not supposed to be around alphas, are you? There are police here too. A lot of people. maybe twenty looking after you. you don't want your parents to see. they'll probably be mad at you for getting sick again.

Federal agents look so funny in their suits and badges. Talking to the doctor in the doorway when you can't give a coherent statement. Why are you making these noises? These purrs and chirps and squeaks. Why do you need fluids? Why is the bed around you big and deep and plush? Why is there a hospital guard at the doorway and why are you in the omegan wing of the hospital?

You don't belong here, you try to tell them. Try to be good and get out of here even though you're almost too weak to get off of the bed. the walls are so steep and you are so so small. they catch you before you fall onto the floor.

But no ones angry at you. not for being too weak to get out of bed.

You're cooed at and gently but firmly placed back in the bed. You don't think it's a bed actually, you think it might be a nest. But you're not sure you've never seen one before.

You're in no shape to fight.

A kind-looking beta man with grey hair grips your hand across the bedspread asking you to recite everything you know about omega’s once you're lucid. Everything you’ve learned in school. nodding until you start to understand.

You snatch your hand back from his touch. Scared of it. "We thought you'd be more comfortable with a beta social worker rather than an alpha or another omega. But I can get someone else if you're dissatisfied."

“No, that can’t be. I’m a beta. I’ve always been a beta. There must be some sort of mistake.” 

"I don't want to press charges. Please. Tell me what I have to say for things to go back to normal."

"No…You're right…I don't want to see them. But I don't have anywhere else to go."

"You do have a place to go, we here at the OHS only want to help omega's thrive. You more than qualify for government assistance."

You’d been removed from the home and placed directly in OHS housing. A safe building meant for omegas that needed healing with separate sterile apartments and on-call medical staff.

It had been a bit of an adjustment- but a lot of the omegas there were young like you and a lot of them came from worse situations.

Omegan trafficking. kidnapped. Hidden like you but without seeing sunlight. those omega's who sit out in the garden and cry and cry and cry because they're free now. Some of them bear the marks of abuse too- Noses and scent glands burned out. Hardly able to speak or look into a beta's eyes without shaking let alone an alphas.

By the end of the first week, you start to realize that you'd been very very lucky. It doesn't make you any less angry. Things could have been worse but- your family could have also just...not done that to you. That's the worst part isn't it? They could have chosen to love you but they just...didn't. They chose to be hateful instead because that was easier than even trying to give you what you want.

No, not want. Need.

Alphas are…strange. You collect facts about them. The one who guards the front door of the building isn't scary even if he does carry a gun. He will sneak sweets if you ask nicely. Enough that brightly colored wrappers litter the bottom of your nest. There are cameras in the hallways but they don't care if you move about freely so long as you do it before curfew.

The alpha that runs the kitchen always says yes to second portions of ice cream if you take more veggies too. If you leave your sweater unbuttoned the pretty alpha with long shaggy hair that watches you walk through the gardens will grip your elbow over the small stream and tell you about the schedule- about things you can ask for.

Like a computer and a stereo system for your apartment, like for outings with armed guards. She tells you that although the world is safe enough for omegas, Those at the OHS just want to be sure nothing happens to these omegas since you've already been through so much.

At least they smell good.

And they almost always do everything you ask when you work up the courage to talk to them. They're bigger than you and the beta's. Stronger. Gentle giants capable of picking you up and heaving you over their shoulder if you try to shout or fight. You don't try that- but some of the other omegas do.

They're…a little wild. Some of them. You know what it feels like to be backed into a corner. How thoughts and feelings rush at you- instincts. Are those instincts?

You hear some of the others whisper about omegas that have gone feral or nearly feral. You only see it once. An omega bites down on an alpha shoulder, drawing blood. You've seen blood before, you're not sure why it makes you want to duck behind another alpha, careful to gather you and the gaggle of other omega's, a small boy, younger than you and mute pressed into your spine for safety.

This omega isn't in trouble. They'd just refused to go to the showers for the 3rd night in a row. And there are certain things like hygiene that your caretakers are very very firm about. But the alpha hardly flinches.

"That was a really good bite! It even stung a little! You're getting so much stronger- I'm so so proud. How about some bubble bath as a reward?"

You do envy their pain tolerance and their tolerance for discomfort a little.

It's a newfound sense of power. You ask, and they fulfill the request. That's an alpha's job, isn't it? Beta's are harder to manipulate. But if you outline exactly why you want your request they're usually a little bit amenable.

Unless that request is for more screen time, or to stay up later, or to take an extended run around the compound instead of taking your afternoon nap, to forgo the sunscreen, or to exercise beyond just lifting stupid 2lb dumbells. There are certain things that they won't allow no matter how much you ask.

It’s not quite the death sentence that your family seems to think it is. They’d always talked down on omegas in front of you. Always said they were lazy and spoiled and that the government did too much for them. But you’re not spoiled and you try not to be lazy. You’re always up and moving.

That's part of the problem.

The alphas and betas at the OHS don't seem to like it when you try and help them stack chairs or help clear the tables, or help with the other omega's moving their things upstairs. You get scolded for lifting boxes, for giving up your blanket during movie time, for not telling someone that the shoes provided where giving you blisters.

It's hard for you to understand that you don't need to be helpful, you don't need to earn affection here. That the bruises on your knees and your blisters actually are cause for concern and they're not faking it when they tell you that you need to be careful.

The endpoint here isn't control. The endpoint is safety. For you to understand just how to fulfill your own needs and keep yourself safe until you have an alpha (or ideally a whole pack of them) to do that for you.

There are placement agencies. High-end alphas in Louis Vuitton shoes that bring gifts and paperwork and the promise of wealthy packs with them once a week. Some of the omegas take them up on that offer.

You usually avoid the atrium when they're in, the only part of the building available to outsiders so long as they pass through the scanners and are supervised. It's supervised visitation only. You meet with your social worker once a week to decide if you're ready to see your parents to talk to them.

You never are.

You're Unsure about what exactly you want your life to look like now that you're free. Now that you're new.

Omegan Health Services is just about the only government agency that’s properly funded- and you were well taken care of as a result. It's not all bad. It feels a bit like summer camp maybe. The Arts and crafts are fun, the nesting lessons are a bit annoying (you can never seem to get it right, never satisfied with your work, always an overachiever). Doctors visits and mental health check-ins. Nutrition classes.

But the scenting lessons.... those you don't mind.

You didn’t like nesting back then, didn’t understand it. An older omega who smells like honey comes and sets one up for you in your little apartment once a week. Cupps your cheek and asks if you'd like to try and make one on your own this time.

There's no there to teach you how to be obedient because contrary to what you’ve been told- that’s not an omega’s only purpose. Omegas have a purpose beyond what you’re learning, although it’s hard to put a pin on what exactly their value is.

But they had confined you to a nest, scruffing the back of your neck, when you’d tried to stay up for a full 12 hours like before. A normal amount of time you said, you could handle it. Why would you need a nest when you've never had one before?

Honestly, part of you finds it a bit ridiculous at first.

“Would you please try? For me? It would make me very very happy if you'd nap for me.”

What's stranger is how you can tell the alpha is happy when you put your head down, you can smell it in the air, a deep sweetness, the kind that makes you get goosebumps and makes your toes feel all fuzzy. It feels good to make them feel good. Feels better when you ask to try and scent them- and get more of that on you.

You'd slept for 3 days straight after that. It was like your body finally understood what it needed, finally understood that it didn't have to go without anymore.

Just after your first heat, your hormones had leveled out. You’d stayed on hormones until the doctors at the OHS had verified that no, your body hadn't sustained life-threatening permanent damage beyond a relatively weak immune system- susceptible even for an omega. Your parents had been charged with omega endangerment and narrowly avoided prison time thanks to your testimonial.

That was as much forgiveness as you were capable of.

But too soon, you'd been 18, on your own and unprotected with placement agencies and every alpha that you'd ever come in contact with breathing down your neck and intent on wooing you. You were given everything you’d ever needed by the omegan protection program. A small apartment. Food and clothing budget. Weekly check-ins by your social worker just to make sure that your living situation is still stable. That you haven't traded your nest (admittedly a little sparse) for a bed, that you haven't lost weight, and that you're still sleeping enough.

You're a good omega. For a while, you keep your sink empty of dishes. Your laundry hamper always half full. Your teeth stay brushed and so does your hair. You don't leave your apartment much. Too nervous, too worried, too afraid.

Too omega, it's all too new.

The OHS might have given you the bare bones, But what you wanted to do with the rest of your time was up to you. Of course, you could go to school as you initially planned, almost every college has an omega's only program, most omega's don't apply for things like neuroscience or pre-med track. You toy with the idea, feeling like something of a test subject yourself to meet with guidance admins and even the head of a college.

"It's not every day that we get potential omegan students. and i understand that you're technically a ward of the OHS but-"

"Technically."

"Yes well- I'd like to personally take you under my wing even if that is the case."

You were too used to being independent, too scared to trust anyone just yet after such a betrayal. Despite winning what many people think of as the genetic lottery your life still feels...

Sour. Empty. Scary.

You'd trade all of it for what you had back. For the lack of betrayal (a small part of you tells you that you might not have minded it at all if you'd never found out. You might not have cared that you were being mistreated at all. You might never have realized it beyond them being the idea of 'harsh parents'

You wish you’d had a family that understood you, that wanted you just as you are- but that’s not always possible. You’d show them- you’d decided that you could be an omega and be independent. Those two things didn’t have to be mutually exclusive. You don’t need a pack yet. You might not ever even want one. You’d cast out a net in a wide range of searches to find a job- a big city, where most omega's live, where you can settle in among the masses, where you won't be that abnormal. Any job will due.

Maybe even in another country.

Becoming a professional scenter is an easy avenue for omegas banking on some modicum of financial independence. They’re always needed and they’re always compensated well- if the job isn't a little emotionally demanding.

It didn’t matter that you’d never scented anyone in your life before you'd been found out, that you could hardly even hear your instincts at all thanks to what had been done to you- you are wanted all the same. Scenters are in such high demand that the fact that you had no experience wasn't even a facet of your interview.

It’s easier for you to follow your natural inclinations now after years of practice and the pack's careful guidance. But Hoseok still burns with the knowledge that it should have been easy for you. It shouldn’t have been hard and he will make everything else in your life easy to apologize.

“Hobi, you’re being silly. You didn’t even know me.”

“But still-” instincts aren’t always straightforward, they don’t always make sense.

You didn't just apply to idol companies either. You'd landed first at a tech start-up and then at a hospital (which hadn't been the right fit- too much stress for you, too many people that were too sick for your weak immune system to be exposed too). You'd worked at several different establishments before landing at BigHit.

By the time you met them, you’d realized what you liked. The more freedom the better.

Omegas are naturally smaller and slighter than betas or alphas. Jimin is the only one truly close to your size, and even then, he’s still almost a foot taller than you and man-handles you with ease. None of them struggle with a princess carry or (Taehyung and Namjoon's favorite) a straight up bear hug.

Because of your upbringing, you’d always looked a little more ashen, a little weaker than the typical omega. It was enough to tug on even the most reasonable alpha's heartstrings and make their instincts go a little haywire. Even ones that had the privilege of growing used to an omega’s company.  

Hoseok had noticed, because Hoseok always notices.

It’s not all that uncommon for a single workplace to hire an omega to work as a scenter. It’s especially common in the idol and model industry. Omega's are either found through placement agencies that charge a pretty penny in finders fee, scouted off the street, or through omegan protective services.

There are certain guidelines. Certain rules. They’d had it drilled into their heads as young impressionable alphas not to overstep.

An employer must provide comprehensive nesting materials and launder them twice weekly. An omega is not allowed to scent more than 15 people per day or work more than 25 hours in a given week. If they say they don’t want to scent a person that’s final. Omegas aren’t to be coerced into allowing anyone into their chosen nest. Disobeying an order from an omega is grounds for immediate termination because if the company loses its designation as a safe haven omegan employment opportunity- then that’s it.

There are no second chances when it comes to omega’s.

And yet despite these rules and regulations set out by the government they are an easily negotiated expense. Hoseok hadn’t been exactly resistant to the idea of bringing someone new into their orbit again or re-incorporating worktime scenting into the pack’s schedule and care plan but he hadn't been exactly ecstatic at the process either.

Was the company really established enough to support an omega full-time? Could they handle the stress of adjustment to someone new and juggle that with the stress of tours and promotions and shows? It's easier probably- if this omega isn't hired specifically for them as the last one had. It's probably for the best if this omega has more broad overarching responsibilities.

But certain factors had led him to agree even if he was tentative. Jimin had been looking so skinny- enough to set even the most respectful pack alpha on edge. Hoseok hadn’t even been pack alpha for that long either. Maybe two years at most.

Namjoon might lead the group in public but everyone could tell by just a simple look that it was Hoseok who really held the reigns. Who counted heads and double-checked the placement of a finger, a foot, a kiss. Who gripped the back of Namjoon’s neck when it became clear that the translators needed to do their jobs.

You were brought in during one of the usual monthly company meetings. All the heads of staff and Namjoon as group leader gathered in one big room, along with Hoseok and the designated pack alphas of the new groups not yet debuted.

Although Hoseok has taken a special interest in Chaewon and Soobin and taken them under his wing He knows that things might happen beyond the company's control- like what happened with him and Namjoon. Pack alpha and group leader are two separate titles. Two separate sets of responsibilities that often overlap.

But they're all starting to realize that Bangtan will always be the special case. They’re the model to emulate sure- but they’re also the exception to the rule. More than one pack has fallen apart because more than one alpha wanted to lead.

This building is still new to them, the freedom that comes with making the kind of money that they do now is new too. Namjoon hasn't even properly set up his studio yet and Yoongi is still insisting he can set up his furniture all on his own. Jungkook still does their laundry even though they could have it sent out. They don't have time for any of this.

Taehyung got lost on the way to practice the other day and had to hone in on them by scent alone. Jungkook is supposed to go into a rut in a few weeks right before an award show, if his usual rut schedule keeps, all of them can feel it coming. Hoseok has many more things on his mind than a new omega in their vicinity.

But that changes when you enter the meeting room.

Hoseok isn't thinking of a new omega and the possibilities that come with it when you walk into the room, he's only thinking of the veritable mountain of to-dos on his list after this meeting. There are several personal and public matters that require his attention and his job as pack alpha never ends.

There's a consult for Yoongi's shoulder surgery later that afternoon. And Namjoon had asked for his opinion on some rap lyrics. Jimin had asked for his eye on some new choreography and a meeting with the pack's dietician. And then after that, a meeting with an architect for their new pack house, something specially designed and renovated, more problems, reinforced steel beams, and the question that everyone was avoiding asking-

If the pack would like an omega nest room included in the plans.

On the outside, no one would ever expect Hoseok to be stressed, but he's three coffees in and not even halfway through his to-do list for the day. Namjoon knows, his hand is gripping the Hoseok’s knee under the table, a settling touch, a touch that says that if he needs- Namjoon can handle this.

But everything, everything in Hoseok's brain goes quiet at the sound of a knock on the door.

Biologically all omegas are pretty to alphas, it's just instinct and conditioning. Hoseok knows this as he stands with everyone at your entrance. It’s just biology that makes them all seem this way- delicate and gentle. Pretty in the way that small fragile flowers are pretty. The kind of thing that’s so small and cute that you just want to hold it to your chest and protect it. It’s not quite cute aggression but not far from it either.

So precious you think that if you touch them, you'll hurt them.

Hoseok thinks you might be unfairly pretty for an omega, enough that he does a bit of a double take. Looking up at you, then dropping into a bow a beat off from the others. He's not the only one, Namjoon's posture instantly straightens, even Bang Si-Hyuk at the head of the table stops tapping his pen and stands to shake your hand.

It's near-instantaneous, the way that the room falls into a hush, you aren't the first omega scenter that Bighit has hired- although usually- a scenter is a privilege only afforded to the pack during comeback season or stressful stretches of production where everything seems stalled. And even then- single sessions are much more reasonable.

But the company has more resources now, more resources that come with things like younger groups and world tours and now- a full-time scenter. Instantly Hoseok notices how you hold your head high regardless of the stares, simultaneously strong and vulnerable, trusting but cautious.

His alpha, usually controlled on a short leash, lifts its head and sniffs at the air.

By the window, Mr. Lee traces your movement across the room with his eyes as the CFO outlines the ideal schedule regarding scenting. How the online portal will function with time slots booked out at a dozen different times per day for multiple alpha sessions or single ones, less if you feel you're overwhelmed.

You'll be free to roam around the building whenever you desire for all other times, moving from space to space without the hassle of locked doors. Even just having an omega's scent circulating through the HVAC system will boost productivity by an estimated 11%.

Having the freedom to choose where you'll nest will only add to that. the last of them should be set up by the end of the day. There will be 4 on every floor and one in each practice room. If you like a spot that doesn't have one all you have to do is ask and they'll move it. This is something that would normally be left up to a regular manager but the CFO had insisted that he be personally responsible for your 'matriculation' as he puts it.

Hoseok doesn't like it one bit. He's not the only one, Mr. Lee subtly steps forward and Namjoon's jaw ticks. As the CFO is an alpha, and 10 years older than him and 15 years older than you. But it's all outlined in your contract, work hours, and obligations.

Boundaries. Boundaries are a good thing.

Seokjin had asked to read it over a few weeks later, just to make sure there was no possible way you could be taken advantage of. There are so many new people around these days. New support staff, new stylists, new trainees.

But Bangtan is the breadwinner here, Namjoon and Hoseok are on the board and this is a big decision. It's reasonable- isn't it? That the people who built the company would double check and would make sure that a new very important employee wasn't being taken advantage of.

There was no way the pack alpha of the largest group in the industry was going to hire an omega without putting in the legwork. Of course, Hoseok had put Jin up to it. But still- your photo on your application did not do you justice.

You blush at the CFO's praises, and at his insistence that your freedom to go where you feel you're needed in the company was of paramount importance a little over the top even to Hoseok’s ears. Your scent sweetens a little. Not necessarily in the way that indicated arousal or anything untoward like that, but the type of scent that indicates ease and comfort and that omega is feeling safe.

Namjoon's lips part to breathe in more of it. It's so strange to Hoseok's system that he gets a little hazy-headed, missing the next thing you say, your introduction, most of it. Blood roars in his ears as he watches you.

You’d been drawn into this company for several reasons, one being the generous pay- almost twice as much as the industry standard and the overall description. You have the power to reject scenting sessions if you’re not feeling up to it, and the medical benefits are complete (as if the government-provided omegan care wasn’t top class- not every country provides it, but you’re not used to Korea, not yet.) Your schedule is up to you, the PTO is unlimited.

And they’re not even going to make you do paperwork.

If you’re not actively in a session with someone their only request is that you nest around the building if you feel comfortable enough to not do it in private. Other than that, you have an office with a TV and dimmable shades if you feel like taking a nap.

Hoseok should check that office, make sure it's in a well traveled and easily available place should anything happen- near a fire escape hopefully, closer to the ground floor just incase but not on the ground floor in the event of intruders either- Hoseok should-

Your eyes flicker to Hoseok's only once, and a jolt goes through his body. Barely managing to resist the urge to loose a growl. Namjoon's hold on Hoseok’s knee goes hard enough to bruise.

You are not necessary for the rest of the meeting, although you sit two people off from Bang Sihyuk, a few spaces to Hoseok’s left, in the corner of his eye but drawing over half his focus. Hoseok isn’t easily distracted; he’s not easily swayed.

If this is what it’s going to be like. He’s going to need to exercise his self-control and become its master very very quickly. He cannot do this job without absolute discipline- absolute focus- absolute-

You’re mostly quiet, why are you that way? Is something not to your liking? Did you eat? It's awfully early for an omega to be awake. Do you have someone who might mind that? Someone to look after you and keep you from waking up too early. If you have an alpha- they must be a good one, they must have the epitome of self-control to allow you to work so early in the day regardless of how it must tug on their instincts. The same way they're tugging on Hoseok's right now.

You do look a little sleepy. Maybe Hoseok should offer you his sweatshirt or perhaps guide you to his studio and the comfy deep couches or-

It doesn't end up being the most productive of meetings. Hoseok spends most of the time trying to work up the courage to say something to you. Ask your opinion on the comeback colors (He's worried he doesn't look good in pink), literally anything. Trying to untangle his words from his instincts enough to not sound like an asshole who thinks omega's can't handle themselves. Time running out and Hoseok is making a shit first impression. He can tell.

You don’t leave before bowing (something that instantly sends off alarm bells in Hoseok’s head). He almost wants to tell you that there's no need but he just stays silent. He's going to beat himself up over this for ages- he's such a fool. He can't even say hello. Heart rate elevated. Mind rambling. Hands shaking so hard that he has to grip the back of Namjoon's neck to keep from trembling all over the place.

What the fuck is going on.

Your Korean is a little stilted, but Hoseok doesn’t mind it at all. Body leaning into the way your voice wraps around the words.

"Thank you for looking after me."

You’re quiet, you’re shy. You’re soft.

You’re everything. Hoseok’s alpha whispers. You’re mine. Mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

Mine.

“It’s no problem at all.” "We're at your disposal." "If we do a bad job of that please let us know." "Do you need anything for today? There's lunch in the breakroom." "you don't need to bring your own- company lunch is apart of your contract." "That food is hardly nutritious though? I can get anything you like and have it delivered to your office...or mine." “My door is always open for you." "Mine too!”

Even Namjoon had offered, voice impossibly deep, near purring. "I'm here if you need anything. Hoseok hyung too." It's not how he usually sounds, it draws Hoseok's focus for just a second. His packmate is off, Hoseok can tell. Hoseok grips the back of Namjoon's neck again just slightly scruffing him, passing it off as brushing something off his shoulder.

He watches you follow the movement before you turn away, Mr. Lee is already holding the heavy door open for you. “I've got it.” it's the first time Hoseok has heard Mr. Lee speak all month. Usually laconic, usually unspeaking. Not out of necessity but just because that's the way he is.

And the other alpha is even blushing.

Hoseok had stayed silent, he wouldn’t have been able to manage a sentence or a word even if he’d opened his mouth.

Later Yoongi will ask what you’re like, clicking through that song- a few hours into fiddling with the snare that just won’t seem to settle into the beat properly. The other alpha is always able to tell when Hoseok is on edge, and he hasn’t been able to relax since your meeting.

“How where they, they new omega?" Yoongi’s body is tense, he's been tense for hours and unwilling to just rip off the bandaid. Hoseok can sense it, but Hoseok and Yoongi have always had an easy sort of love. Hoseok does not let Yoongi stew alone but he does let him take his time to gather his thoughts.

His eyes are intent and dark. Hoseok reaches over slowly, careful not to spook him, settling his hand on the back of his neck. Yoongi relaxes imperceptibly.

Hoseok leans forward, rubbing his mouth across Yoongi's clothed shoulder before leaning his chin there and sighing.

“We’ll be careful.”

He nuzzles again just a little. A temporary relief. Feeling his alpha roil beneath his skin before he straightens back up into his own chair, Yoongi's nuckles drag along his thigh.

It will take several days for Hoseok to calm down over which time he’ll throw himself into his work and do his best to avoid you. “She has a nice voice.”

Yoongi's clicking stops momentarily.

“You know, omega’s voices are pitched at a different decibel that activates a different portion of an alpha’s hindbrain.”

“You sound like Namjoon.”

Yoongi snorts, wrinkles his nose in the way that sort of looks like he's an angry kitten. hoseok feels himself smiling before he realizes it. shoulders unfurling from their tensed up position. “He told me that earlier. Right before he headed off to the department store.”

Hoseok swallows around a growl. Keeping his breathing measured. He didn't even notice Namjoon heading off- distracted as he was. Normally Hoseok is bound to let one or two things slip when they're stressed- around comeback season or near deadlines. But there are none of those any time soon.

He’s good at coping with stress. He’s not even sure why he’s so stressed out right now. “What was he getting? A welcome gift?”

“No, I think he was getting a nest for his studio.” Hoseok curses runs a hand through his hair, and clicks around aimlessly on the program. Listening to the track again one more time through. Aware that Yoongi is watching him and not the lines of progressing audio. Aware that he’s still awaiting a response.

“You’re worried. Why?” Yoongi is always straightforward, always to the point, backward hat and sweatpants, all of him at ease and comfortable here. Hoseok debates it. Letting Yoongi in, confiding in him.

“She seemed a little…fragile. My alpha had one hell of a reaction to it.” Hoseok finally decides. It's not exactly the truth- not exactly the chorus of 'mine mine mine' still running rampant in the back of his head, a buzz in his ears, annoying and distracting. All-consuming in the silence. Hoseok will let the rest of the pack come to their own conclusions.

“They all seem that way.”

“Yeah. But this was different.”

All he knew was that the second he saw you, he knew he’d do anything for you, anything to keep you happy, safe, and healthy. And those aren’t normal feelings to have for a stranger- omega or not.

Some hidden feral part of him might have liked it a bit too much. Your vulnerability and your earnestness. Unlike alpha's or the few other omega's that Hoseok has the opportunity to meet, you don't seem to be skilled in keeping your scent meditated into something gentle or less potent. You're unable to conceal your scent even though that’s what the company hires you for. Most omega scenters would at least make some effort towards privacy.

But not you. It's almost like you don't even realize it or that you don't have the energy for it.

No- you feel and it’s right there. All laid out on the table. Your scent is never subdued- through the whole of the meeting, you never seemed to even try to contain it either. Shifting in your seat made it sour- like you were uncomfortable. When the CFO had talked it had gone mellow and mute. Like your mind was wandering.

But it had been oddly genuine. The way your scent had flickered, untamed, startled, and nervous to shy. To surprised and pleased. And then for a moment when your eyes flickered to his almost…

Excited. Sweet.

Despite Hoseok's resistance to booking you out for a session, the rest of the pack's alphas and betas do not have the same misgivings. They book time to scent you through the online portal the first week just to meet you, then once a week after (twice in Namjoon's case, he's a little over eager). Even Jimin and Seokjin who need scenting only once a month book you out twice in the first ten days although the second time Hoseok's is pretty sure it's just to give you lunch and a break.

Hoseok gets used to your scent on them, after workouts and before meetings. On the elbow of Namjoon's jacket, the other alpha blushed at Hoseok's knowing and cautioning look. The day before a showcase and in the afternoon over dinner. There are hints of it everywhere.

Hoseok never scents another alpha on you, not in the hallway when he passes you or on the others inadvertently. Omega scents- they stick differently, on everywhere and everything. Biologically it makes sense from a resource standpoint. An olfactory claim- so that other omega's will not tread over their territory. Alpha's can scent each other like normal like that too- beta's similarly although it takes a substantial cuddle for the scent to stick (ie why Jimin is nearly permanently wrapped around them even on the best of days).

For the first five or ten minutes after a scenting you might carry a bit of an alpha's scent profile- which is why the company books you out with half-hour breaks between each appointment- just to give you time to recuperate and for the scent to dissipate. Omega's are slippery, skin too soft to hold onto a scent for long. Alpha's and beta's cannot scent omega's the conventional way- not if they want to indicate a claim.

An omega only smells like another alpha if they've been knotted by them.

It's a deeper, more complete sort of scent that doesn't fade for a few days. A twinge. A subtle edge of their scent. Hoseok hates a little that his alpha picks up on it, that no one's knotted you. not recently enough to tell. He waits preemptively, tail already half tucked, anticipating disappointment. But it never comes.

If you do have a partner (or partners as most omega's have) they must not knot you frequently or at all. He's too embarrassed to mention it to the others. To ask if they've noticed too. You just shouldn't talk about omega's that way- it's impolite to point it out.

There are other small hints of you everywhere. Hoseok passes by your office on his way from his practice room to his studio, noticing food and packages, roses, and channel shopping bags with a scoff.

It's not just your scent everywhere either, Hoseok's pack mentions your name casually, tones soft and velvety. Hoseok must be imagining things- because there's no way that the pack is already saying your name with a croon.

Hoseok feels like he's losing his mind.

Namjoon's late to practice again. Which doesn't help. And Hoseok's protest dies in his throat when he catches a wif of you on Namjoon.

"Sorry I was late, she fell asleep on me and I didn't want to wake her."

Yoongi has the opportunity to jump in before Hoseok even can. Still collecting his thoughts, trying to keep his alpha down. "Did she seem tired? Is she getting enough rest?"

"We should talk to management about reducing her number of avalible time slots." Seokjin comments.

"But then it will be even harder to get scented- my next time isn't until monday, 3 whole days hyung." Taehyung drapes himself over Yoongi's back to whine.

"At least you got to scent her this week already- mine's not until tomorrow." Jungkook's pout is audible to the ears. Hoseok's growl cuts him off.

"Guys- Focus."

Jungkook doesn't go into a rut before the award show, Jungkook goes into a rut the day after he schedules his first scenting with you. A few hours later. If Hoseok's being honest he'd say he's been able to scent the pre on him- thick and musky alpha ready for a fight- ready to protect and provide and prove- barely an hour after meeting you.

Fucking hell.

Hoseok can smell where you are from a hallway away and can sense it days after if you've walked by his studio. All of it. He pretends he's not keeping track of you. Occasionally he opens up the online portal on his phone, but he never works up the courage to make an appointment with you for a scenting. Even as the weeks drag on Hoseok’s alpha gets more and more restless.

Very few omegas work and even fewer packs allow them to. It’s a function of packs- a pack without an omega isn’t one that will survive for long and to have their focus shift is entirely counterproductive. There's too much fighting between alphas, too much jostling for position and resources. Even if you like each other, even if you love each other. Hoseok has learned that it’s not easy as pack alpha, balancing their wants, desires, and the needs of 7 different people.

Even without the whole international super-star thing.

But with an omega- everyone is calmer, everyone is settled. Everyone has one singular goal guiding every interaction. Every moment.

Protect. Provide. Keep safe.

Before you- the beta’s were a little bit of a placeholder for the alpha’s more dedicated instincts. Jimin loves to be fussed over, to have his contacts taken out and his skincare patted on and manhandled from room to room. Jin loves it when they stand close and measure his breathing, his movements, his everything. The touches to his knees, his hips, the way Jungkook nuzzles into his back just so.

But they can only handle it for so long without going a little bit crazy, their instincts might be a bit more willing to handle a bit of babying. But they still have their own instincts- however fickle.

Hoseok has done nothing but that since you came into his care. Is doing only one of those things tonight, provide. A sold-out show, lyrics on the tip of his tongue and breath filling his lungs. All of it is always worth it. He loves his job; he really does but-

He loves it a little bit less when it keeps him from you. Touring isn’t only taxing on him, but taxing on you too.

Disrupting an omegas schedule with long-term travel is not recommended medically, even less for you given your fragile health. Hoseok might not have acquiesced to it at all if you hadn't pouted, and might not have agreed to it at all if not for the circumstances.

You'd been unwilling to separate yourself from him. Not after finally getting him back after so long.

Hoseok can smell your sickness on the air before he even makes it out onto your floor of the hotel, his managers, staff, and Mr. Lee following his blind spots. In the elevator and all the way up, not saying anything, his hair standing on end, foot tapping as the numbers climb higher and higher to the penthouse suite.

Everyone stills for a moment when Hoseok enters, careful to stay where he can see them. The hush of an angry alpha on the air telling. Your hotel room is crowded with doctors. It shouldn't be surprising to him. It shouldn't be so grating. Hoseok should know, he’d called them all in before leaving today. Had insisted upon Seejin staying home, that Hoseok would be fine with one of the other managers today.

They crowd parts around the waist-high nest to let him through. The nest is plush and custom, one of two- the other of your nest has already been sent to your next hotel- a luxurious expense to have an omega nest follow you wherever you go- but one that Hoseok was more than willing to pay so that you can be comfortable wherever you go. They have more than enough money to spoil you, so why shouldn’t they? What use is any of this if the one person they promise to protect and provide for isn’t taken care of?

His heart clenches painfully when he spots you, breath going a little ragged.

you're a small heap, arms and legs tucked close like you're having trouble keeping yourself warm, or maybe like the nest is too big, too unsafe. You've tucked yourself into the side of the nest, eyes closed, cheeks flushed with fever, resting prone against the side walls. All so that the doctor can press his stethoscope to your throat, your heart, and your back to listen to your lungs. he doesn't hear hoseok, ears in the stethescope,

"Can you breathe deep for me sweetheart, there you go. That's a good omega."

Hoseok can't fucking breathe.

The doctor’s part around him and quiet and the tense inch of him that hadn’t relaxed, not during the performance or the ride over one bit, finally eased away.

Hoseok drops to his knees at the edge of the nest. Normally he’d never allow anyone, fan or not, the management or not- to see him on his knees. It’s not something that any alpha does in public without ridicule. But for you he hardly even notices. Leaning over the edge of the nest. All but ready to get into it.

His hand threads a shaky hand through your hair, it's hard to tell if he's instantly soothed by your presence alone or if your breathing calms just a little more. Hoseok strokes down the curve of your head. Your eyes are closed. Neither awake or asleep. You seek out his scent almost immediately, nose pressing with a zing to his inner wrist that goes straight to his chest. Letting out a soft exhausted chirp that makes his throat and heart feel all tight.

You make a soft trilling noise, a precious little omegan sound that under other circumstances Hoseok would never allow anyone to hear but the pack. The order is clear; alpha in my nest, please come, alpha here. Hoseok's body lurches and it takes more control than he has to keep himself from tumbling into your nest entirely.

There are people here, Hoseok's instincts have already decided they're threats. Hoseok must remove them before he comes in. You turn your face into his palm nuzzling and nosing. Trying to get more of his scent on you even though you’re too stuffed up to scent him. Your other hand loosely tangles with the fabric of his shirt.

“How is she?” He breathes. Eyes fixed on your face, measuring the puffiness under your eyes, the raw skin of your nose, the dryness of your lips. You whine and reach for him, a noise so heartbreaking it almost makes Hobi want to gnash his teeth.

Hoseok spots it, the tiny band-aid on the inside of your arm. Small, pink. He blinks down at it. Thumb treading close, you hiss a little, and at closer inspection- he sees it's a little bruised.

Hoseok goes deathly still. The doctor keeps talking, oblivious to Hoseok's frightening quiet. Rushing over himself to update Hoseok. He spares no detail. No detail at all.

Hoseok burns.

“Her fever peaked this afternoon at around 101.3 degrees, at which point ant-virials were administered orally. She’s eaten a little since then and her potassium and iron levels were taken, just to be sure. A banana bag was administered at-”

the doctor breaks off as Hoseok jerks, hands tightening to fists by his side. You nose at the spot where his hand just was your eyes still closed. You're so sick he can hardly even smell you, your scent dampened by the weight of your sickness.

Logically Hoseok knows it's just a cold. You get like this every time you get sick. But logic has no place here, not now. Not with you so weak.

“You mean to say- my omega was given an IV without my approval?” rage rolls off him in waves and Seejin reaches out to set a hand on his shoulder, Hoseok doesn't even remember standing up, doesn't remember trying to shove. But between one blink and the next he's nearly doing it. Hoseok’s self-control is hanging on by a thread. “And- You did that without notifying me first?"

Hoseok is not proud of his rage, he’s not proud of a lot of things. But defending his pack has nothing to do with ego or dominance. It has nothing to do with pride as he backs the doctor up against a wall. Nearly snapping his teeth at his neck. Hoseok’s alpha wants more than blood, more than something to break under his hands. Rage makes him tremble nearly violently.

Thank God for NDAs and goodwill. Tomorrow. When Hoseok isn’t acting like a cornered dog he’ll apologize probably with a fancy gift of some sort. This same doctor who resists the urge to cower will say. “Happens all the time, you know alphas.”

But hoseok doesn't know, right now all he knows is Rage. But for now, Hoseok is a threat. An alpha is always a threat around a sick omega. His laugh sounds cruel even to his own ears. “Do you enjoy being licensed to provide omegan care doctor?”

For what it’s worth, the grey-haired doctor hardly backs off, hands raised. Seejin and Mr. Lee come close, a gentle presence waiting to see if Hoseok will snap. Hoseok should remember that you’re not his property- that you can and often do make medical decisions on your own. But right now, Hoseok’s having a hard time separating need from fear.

Hoseok watches them from the corner of his eye, part of him begging for them to intervene. For a reason to get violent. his alpha tells him violence might fix this. Might solve everything might-

“If any of you ever do anything like that again I’ll make sure you-”

You tug on his pant leg, effectively cutting him off, completely extinguishing his anger. He looks down and you’re looking up at him. Half sprawled out of the nest to reach him; hand fisted. Mouth drawn down in a pout. Eyes cracked open.

The very first time you’d ever looked up at him from the confines of your nest had taken his breath away. This time is no different.

The first time had gone something like this:

He’d been in the practice room where you’d chosen to spend the afternoon, lured in by the promise of open windows and sunlight. Hoseok had never spent too much time around omegas before. Too much like cats, too tentative, too restless.

Most of the time he treats his twice-monthly scentings as something routine. An omegan café, high-end on the edge of the city. An omega scenter in comfy pajamas, a nest that smells of cleaning spray, all for him. Rinse and repeat.

Most of the time when he sees you’ve taken a spot in his favorite practice room, he closes the door softly with a quiet apology and just goes to the one next door. Unwilling to bother you with the squeak of his shoes and the pounding of the music.

Nesting isn’t like napping, omegas can tune out sound when they’re nesting- it’s more similar to torpor in a way or hibernation. The body’s metabolism slows down and omega's go vulnerable. The brain becomes sluggish. Scent strengthens while other bodily functions dwindle like heart rate and reaction time. It’s a very very important part of omegan recovery.

Hoseok doesn’t want to interrupt that in the slightest- especially given the nagging feeling in his chest. His instincts say something that's hard to parse through. A language that he's only half fluent in. Ever-present since you've been hired.

He sees you joke around with some of the trainees and sees each of them duck their head to receive a brief (and probably slightly illegal given scenting laws) rub of your wrist over their heads before their first showcase.

Hoseok sees things like that all the time and tries to stay calm through it. Reminding himself that you are an adult, that you are not vulnerable, and you are not constantly in danger. Despite what Hoseok’s instinct are having him believe.

He was content to switch and swap for the practice room with the best acoustics. But then the next day he’d gone to the alternative practice room again and found you there again too. Flip-flopping back and forth.

He’d told Namjoon and complained a little. "Doesn't she understand that I’m trying not to disturb her? I'm trying to be respectful." Both of their backs up against the practice room wall. Bodies sweaty, resting. Hoseok hands off his water bottle giving Namjoon the first sip.

"Has it occurred to you that she might want you to disturb her?" Hoseok's expression had twisted, Namjoon's knowing smile dimply, near unreadable.

"Joon-ah, What are you thinking?" Namjoon had stood, offered his hand, and pulled Hoseok to his feet.

"I think alphas are the ones that need to do the chasing, not the ones that get chased." 

So, the next day, after flip-flopping from room to room for weeks. He’d tread into his favorite practice room quietly, carefully, already able to tell you where in there from the sweetness of your scent on the air alone. The late afternoon stretches the sunset red beyond the windows. And Hoseok takes a deep breath of your scent (you've been in here for hours, it covers the air in thick blushes of berries that have goosebumps rising to his arms).

You don't notice, you don't hear, eyes staying fixed on the sunset. He makes a small noise in his throat. More submissive than he means it.

You look from the window to him.

Your scent- it’s hard to describe your and if asked Hoseok might fail to properly pinpoint it. It's something deep and fresh but sweet and airy like a summer evening with a nearly berry undertone. Blackberries or blueberries, the tart feeling of them hitting your tongue. It's a lovely scent, a unique one. Hoseok has never met another person omega or not- that smelled half as delicious as you.

You’d looked up at him and smiled. Hoseok’s throat had felt tight, his spine straighter than stretching could ever get it.

He waits a beat, another. He's completely forgotten why he's in here for a split second and he stumbles into the room. Voice shaky. Totally not a good first impression- this is the first time you've ever been alone together in the same room. The first time you've ever been one on one with Hoseok.

Hoseok is making a fool of himself. He should have brought food or maybe a gift like namjoon did. Maybe one of those fancy little drinks with the cut up fruit from the cafe downstairs.

“Is- is it alright if I practice in here?” He even stutters. He can hear Namjoon and Yoongi snickering from a floor away.

“Yes!” You’d chirped, resting your cheek against the edge of the nest, pausing before you’d continue. Squirming a little happily, and Hoseok huffs, sort of endeared, sort of less nervous just by how eager you seem. This is why you’re here in this room. He shouldn’t be blushing watching you shift and get comfortable in the nest.

He’s been measuring them- tracking the similarities from nest to nest, some omegas like a lot of blankets- others like a lot of pillows. But you don’t like too much, just a duvet occasionally in some of the other colder practice rooms- especially the ones underground. And a pillow now stuck between your knees for you to wrap your body around while you nest.

He might have seen you do that with Jungkook at one point. After his rut when he'd been a little… volatile. And he'd walked into the breakroom- the other alpha nearly completely tucked beneath your body. Hoseok might have spent hours thinking about it, it's hard not to notice and Hoseok knows omegas like to hug things but-

He might actually be going insane

“I've always wanted to watch you practice on your own!” hoseok flushes furiously and tries to turn away so you can't see, unsure what to say even less what to do. At second glance you're half lifting yourself out of the nest, something that sets off alarm bells in his head. Nearly makes him come close and shush you- ask you to sink back into it. "What one are you gonna do? Hope world? Or-" you prattle on while Hoseok's eyebrows climb higher and higher into his hairline.

Oh? Could it be that you're- that you're a fan? That you like their music. Hoseok's not sure why- but he didn't expect that, or expect this.

You are not strangers, you’ve met before. Only that time You were upright and Hoseok- shaking your hand careful not to squeeze too hard. Making the rounds to meet everyone personally. Eyes flickering from your clasped hands to your face and back again. Nostrils flaring as you caught his scent in the air.

Hoseok knows he smells good, like drippy mangos in the summertime. Sun-warmed fruit. Mellow but sticky. He preens a little at having an omega so obviously appreciate it.

You must not know what you’re doing to him at all as you lift your nose to the air and breathe deep, pausing in your listing of his many performances, eyes fluttering. He knows you like his scent as he sets up, out of the corner of his eye he catches something that looks suspiciously like a happy little shiver. If a beta or alpha did that it might be creepy- but an omega.

Hoseok might have scrubbed off his scent blockers just a little earlier. So you could smell him better.

This is different than your first meeting. This is the first time he’s ever been alone with you. You are the only two people here now. And the quiet and intimate proximity makes Hoseok’s skin feel tingly. But this is just what omega’s do, just what omega’s feel like. Hoseok had been warned that his body might have…peculiar reactions to being around an omega regularly for a prolonged period of time. Increased protective instincts.

The other boys aren’t here to soften the edge of tension with their puppy pile clamor. You attend their group practices a few times a week. Your officially booked time is a bit different, but when you’re not booked out and in the hours between your sessions with the other groups- you do gravitate a little to their spaces.

Hoseok’s not quite sure if he’s noticing a pattern or if his instincts are just overly hopeful.

But this is different. Feels different as Hoseok sets out his water bottle and queues up the music. His heart shouldn’t be beating so fast. “So you know our stuff?” He teases getting comfortable. You hide your blush under the edge of the nest.

"Just a little. I looked you up when I started working here-"

"Everythings to your liking?" He asks, checks, keeping you in his peripheries, mindful of startling you or making you nervous. Any omega would get nervous one on one with an alpha. You should never feel that way around him- Hoseok doesn't want you to.

"Yes- everyone's been so welcoming." He hums, it's more of a pur, more of a muted growl. When he looks back at you- you're looking at him. Eye contact. Too quick. Hoseok looks away.

He clears it out of his throat, shaking himself clean a little. "What do you wanna see? I don't usually take requests but-" For you I might. For you I would. Hoseok hides his flush by clicking around on the computer, audio files listed alphabetically. The concert arrangements- not the regular recordings.

You hum thoughtfully, tipping your head this way and that, leaning your chin against the omega nest. It’s a simple one, fairly standard. It sort of looks like an oversized cat bed, set up kind of minimally (something about that doesn’t please Hoseok’s alpha, although you do have similar omega nests in just about every room in the building, meant to facilitate your comfort in whichever space you might ask for).

Hoseok had come upon you asking two trainees to move yours to the hallway with all the windows (that was suspiciously close to his, Namjoon’s, and Yoongi’s studios.) It will be a few more weeks until you ask them if it's okay if you set up a private nest in the corner of their studios. Yoongi already has a spot cleared out just in case. Namjoon's had one set up in the first week.

The other day he had walked by just as you cupped their cheeks and dragged your wrist down their throats, the pair of alpha’s flushing red and smelling heady. A priceless reward and one that Hoseok was instantly jealous of.

Maybe he'll get that today.

Hoseok is always keenly aware of your nests when he finds them empty- they’re not always unadorned, sometimes there are pink frilly sweaters and sweatshirts draped over the edge. Gifts from alpha’s whose scent you like and betas too. There’s one in the waiting room with a maplestory plush that Jin keeps well-scented and you tend to tote from spot to spot. Jin smells as pretty as he looks; like fresh orange blossom and lemon slices, something citrusy and fresh.

During practice with you in the corner. Taehyung asks you why and you tell him gladly. easily. intimacy with others ins't always easy with a pack as close knit as there's they have friends too- but Hoseok is always nervous, always watching and making sure his pups are okay and not asking private personal questions that certainly are not work appropriate. He's just about to say something to Taehyung when you respond, resting your cheek across the top of the pink plush, blinking up at him blearily. "I like to hug things in my sleep,"

Yhe alpha had leaned over to ruffle your hair. You'd pressed up into the touch happily. "You're just like me! If you need to nap and I need to nap we should like- hug each other!"

That painfully obvious attempt at flirting had been the source of many teasing episodes over the last few weeks. Jungkook had needed to be taken over a lap for high-pitched. "You're just like me," More than once. An inside joke in the making if ever there was one. Taking care of his pack is easy for Hoseok, every movement practiced so many times he could do it with his eyes closed.

The next day, there might have been a full-sized teddy bear, scented by each member of the pack, waiting in your office for you. The pack had waited for Hobi to be done with a meeting just so that he could scent it too and he could scent it last, making his scent on it the strongest.

Call it a welcoming gift if you're too shy to call it a courting gift.

The pack's scents are a comforting overlap, one that Hoseok is intimately familiar with. He can smell that this nest, the one in his practice room, has traces of them. He knows the whole pack’s schedules and often wakes up early just to pour over it with coffee. And he knows that you’ve seen each of them over the last week for a session. That you see them every week that sometimes- you bump people to the next day just in case.

Hoseok just didn’t realize you’ve had your sessions here, in his practice room until right now.

Hoseok knows this, knows that you like his pack’s scent, and yet. You have nothing in this nest, nothing in his practice room from any of the others. Your omega nest is simple and unadorned in here. Here it's just you and just him. You tilt your head to the side, thoughtfully considering his question.

“The pretty one, the one that you and Jiminie do.” Jiminie huh, Hoseok’s alpha had purred, nicknames already. Hoseok doesn’t say anything, he just nods and queues up the track, turning it lower than he normally would. Aren’t omega’s ears more sensitive? Is that something that he should be worried about?

Hoseok doesn’t miss a single step, keenly aware of your chin perched on the edge of your nest. Intimately aware of your eyes on him following his every movement.

The world and everything outside of the room melts away. Until it's only the music and you.

~-~

It’s a far cry from now, as you peer up at him from the nest. Cheeks flushed with fever.  Tugging all of his attention inches away from this confrontation getting bloody. Hoseok's hands are claws against the alpha doctor's skin, one on his shoulder and the other on his throat. All Hoseok sees is red, all Hoseok sees is you. Hoseok is finally able to fixate on you again. For today at least, the performance is done. It is once again just you and him.

Scared, omega hurt. Omega might go, omega can't go. has to stay. Fear- no- it's terror. It's always terrifying when you're sick. Because one day you might not get better. One day that might be it. Protect, treat. Feed. Get rid of the threat of omega and keep omega safe. Soft omega, my omega, sick omega. Keep safe keep safe keep safe keep-

Your voice is so quiet, but Hoseok would hear it in a roaring stadium. Over 6,000 people or 60,000. It cuts through the panic, his heavy breath heaving in his chest, bones creaking with the force of his trembling. Their whole body out of wack.

Hoseok has only ever wanted for you to be okay. He wants it so badly that it burns in his throat. Worse than a lump, worse than an ache. A wound.

“Hobi." Your tone leaves no room for argument. "Stop it. You’re being mean.”

~-~

Notes:

the beginning part of this might be a little bit too much for me. i'm having alot of family issues right now. i did /not/ intend on putting it in this fic but oh wellllllllll

honestly i struggled to articulate their dynamic in the sections with jimin, hoseok, and namjoon also ft. yoongi but!!! i think i did a good job! and people wanted to see more of dom jimin. i wanted to emphasize that they're all dominant in some way over the m/c but they all step aside when they need to exercise those dominant feelings.

i love playing with reader expectations vs experience in fics, i really want you guys /as/ readers to question whether or not her parents were right in trying to hide her being an omega.

less notes this time because i kept getting distracted from this fic and all the shit that is going on in my life at the moment. not only bts's comeback but also just life stuff. my older sister is getting married next week so i will be away. because of that i might not get around to answering messages for a little while (either that or i'll be camped out responding to each and every one of them and escaping to this fantasy world lol)

[tobesolnelyx]

— not my fault! || cheerleader!jackie taylor headcanons

a/n: doing it mostly for my future fanfic on ao3 😛

summary: jackie is living her best life after she came out. best life with you. obviously. modern college au. girlfriend!jackie. fluff. song: not my fault by reneé rapp

warnings: slight NSFW content - MDNI

★ — when you see jackie for the first time she’s already panting, cheeks flushed and game hasn’t even started. she spots you while you’re rushing towards bleachers (mostly because your friend made you came here), and she looks like she sees jesus himself

“oh, hey,” she says, quickly making her way to you. you furrow your brows, a little caught of guard by that. she grins at you despite her disheveled presence, and the obvious fact that she technically should be on field by now.

she stands in front of you, then turns around. you blink few times, gazing at her bare back. hands hovering over her, unsure what to do. like you’re still trying to process that jackie taylor is acknowledging your presence.

“can you zip me up?” she asks. you spot yellow ribbon in her honey blonde hair. “please?” she adds when there’s no response from you.

“oh…” you say, nodding and reaching to zip her cheerleading uniform. “sure,” you murmur, trying so hard to not touch smooth skin on her back. no matter how tempting is that.

“thanks,” she smiles, turning again to face you. she quickly presses soft kiss to your cheek, and just…walks away. her footsteps are fast, echoing in the hallway as she rush on the field. leaving you stunned.

★ — jackie, who tells you, no, begs you to come to every single game after you get together. are you interested in soccer? debatable, but you should be interested in her. cmon, she spent so much time learning this damn choreography! besides, she’s a ten times more interesting sight than anything else that is happening on the field.

★ — on that note— she shortens her own cheerleading uniforms just to make you look. she’s balancing on a thin line, showing a little too much, but still not that much to alarm school authorities. cheerleading clothes might look a little too tight on her, hugging her curves just right. her skirt might be showing her ass and legs in a way that should be proactive. somehow, it looks just right on her.

★ — oh right, she also stretches on practices, making sure you catch glimpse of her ass, breasts, thighs…whatever, anything to make you look. cause obviously, you go to those boring practices too. okay, maybe not so boring when she stands right in front of you, shaking her pompons in that cute uniform. ribbon swinging as she jumps and swirls.

★ — and ohh, she loves to be fucked in that uniform. sucking on your strap, and smearing her lipstick on it few minutes before she has to go out and perform. backshots when you just can’t help yourself — pushing her little skirt with shorts down, bending her over, and fucking her nice and deep while she clutches her hands on the bench, whining your name.

“harder,” she begs even though she’s already being fucked rough. her perfect hair are already messed up, ribbon barely holding in them. “fuck me harder,” she moans.

skin slaps on skin when you smash silicone dick in her tight walls. and you know that she’ll struggle to keep herself upright during performance.

★ — side note: jackie, who loves riding the bulge of your strap. she’ll push herself on your lap the second you sit in the car. still in her skirt, now slightly ridden up, when she starts grinding her hips against you. she throws her head back, groaning.

“ugh, i’ve been waiting for that the whole day.”

★ — she’s not only preparing herself for the game — makeup, uniform etc, but you as well. she’s approaching you with blue and yellow paint in hands, usually painting her initials on your cheek. god forbid girl wants to mark what’s hers.

★ — you’re her personal help (not like she’s listening to you. she knows better anyway. duh.), but you’re always there to watch choreography she came up with. she looks at you at the end, frown on her face.

“what do you think?” she asks as she’s not thinking how to improve the whole thing.

“it’s great, babe…” you start, trying to raise up from the bed, but she pushes you down again. you blink few times, staring at her.

“no,” she says, shaking her head. “im not done.”

★ — she always, absolutely always, pleases you to carry her training bag. of course, she already has a lot to do! she’s tired after all those practices, gym days and stuff! she holds your hand every single time though <3

★ — jackie, who finally catches injury after overdoing herself, and refuses to take your help. even tho she needs that :(

★ — also, hear me out, she wears glasses!! she’s ashamed of that — always pulling with this bullshit about looking awful in them, but in reality, she looks super cute. you love to take them off only to kiss her nose. she wrinkles it, trying so hard not to smile. (also, she wears contact lenses to performances cause girl can se shit)

★ — going back to her cute customised uniform and possessiveness; girl is not only making you walk around with her initials on your face, but she wears has your initials as well on her ribbon :(

★ — finally, jackie, who has been terrified of the possibility of being queer, but once she got into college, she feels like she can breathe again. she’s no longer scared of openly being with you <3

[erwinsvow]

oh my precious shea, you have no idea the demon that you awakened when you put the idea of robby's shy wife who's only comfortable around robby & jack into the universe. the possibilities created from that one thought...shy!reader needing to come in to the ER for something but you don't wanna bother robby and he isn't working so you go in by yourself and jack sees you and just melts🫣 drops the notes he's writing ASAP and takes care of you; and it's something small that a med student or res could do but you don't really want anyone to touch you; until jack comes in and your personality doesn't necessarily CHANGE per se but you can tell the comfort level is just...there already so he tells everyone that he'll take care of it. cue some questioning stares from multiple people but for different reasons🤭 maybe dana stares because she knows who you are to robby but she can't quite figure out when & how you and jack got so close🤨 but some nurses stare because they DON'T know that you're robby's girlfriend and they're all thinking that you MUST be with Jack because you clearly knew him and are comfortable with him touching you? but you seem so...shy. and jack has this reputation about him, so how on earth did jack manage to meet this cute little shy thing? little do they know, you're MORE than comfortable with jack touching you😏 can you tell i have fantasies of being shared LMAO; samira & jack, jack & robby, etc. there's a clear trend happening here😌

oooooohhhhhhh this is sooo fucking good like can you PLEASE write this i just need to know more. first of all jack being so soft with robby's cute little shy wife. seems like the type who would torment and tease her but really he's not. he's so caring with her. she's like an extension of robby to him so he has to look out for her too. and omgg especially if it's later at night and you know robby's at home resting after his crazy shift, one of those rare nights you two aren't together and of course that's the night you get hurt. finding jack there and just being able to relax because you trust him and you don't have to worry robby and just gaaaahhhh. maybe some of the night shift crew know from the round the clock gossip that robby has a cute shy girlfriend but why is jack so close to you and why is jack taking a case that the resident should be on??? ahhhhh!!!! especially.... if this is BEFORE the three of them have done anything together. like whatever remained of jack's resolve about you crumbles when you blink up at him with watery eyes telling him thank you jack for helping you and giving him a hug maybe while sniffling. he sends you home realizing that everyone is going to be talking about this. and then he calls robby because, of course, and robby rushes to your place to take care of you ughhh it would be so sweet and cute. then he sneaks it into the conversation after making sure you're okay about jack said he took care of you. and then the next day at 7am robby tells jack he should come over some time and that you want to cook him dinner to say thank you and well. i mean he's not gonna say no to that, he's tasted the pastries you've brought and robby looks like three times as healthy since he started dating you and well. you make them dinner and they make you into their dessert

[rubywillkins]

Hi, I'm going to order from the cafeteria:

Shot of espresso

Goat milk

Fish and Chips

Beef tenderloin

Baked Crab cheese

All served by Charles, please! ♥️

Sure darling♥️

Charles Leclerc|

Not Just Another Bouquet

paired charles leclerc fem reader

warning smut harsh language

Shot of espresso rough sex Goat milk penetrative sex Fish and Chips hickeys Beef tenderloin “I won’t apologise for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.” Baked Crab cheese “You look so good with my hands around your neck.”

"I'm jealous of the rain ..... That falls upon your skin... It's closer than my hands have been…"

Y/N hummed softly as she stepped into the Monaco apartment she shared with Charles. Her arms were full—with groceries in one hand and a small bouquet of white tulips in the other. The tulips were freshly wrapped in brown parchment, tied with a crimson ribbon. A tiny note was nestled inside:

“To the one who brightens the street with just her smile. — Your secret admirer.”

She had found it sitting on the doorstep when she returned from the café. Sweet? Sure. A little flattering? Maybe. But nothing serious. She had laughed it off with the barista before heading home.

“Charles?” she called, kicking off her shoes. “You won't believe what I found!”

Charles was in the kitchen, dressed in loose grey sweats and a Ferrari tee, pouring himself a glass of water. His hair was still tousled from his nap, but his eyes instantly sharpened when he saw the flowers.

“Who gave you those?” he asked.

Y/N blinked. “I don’t know… Someone left them on the doorstep.”

He took a slow step forward. “There’s a note?”

She handed it to him without hesitation, still chuckling softly. “Apparently, I ‘brighten the street with my smile’.”

Charles read it once. Then again. His jaw clenched subtly.

“That’s not funny.”

The smile slipped from her lips. “It’s just a random admirer—”

“Random?” he cut in, a sharp edge to his voice. “Someone knew where you live, Y/N.”

She stared at him. “Are you seriously mad about this?”

Charles scoffed, tossing the note on the counter like it stung his hand. “I don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they can flirt with my girlfriend by leaving flowers at our door.”

“Our door,” she echoed, voice rising just a bit. “You think I invited this? That I’m entertaining it?”

“That’s not what I said—”

“No, but you’re acting like it!”

He opened his mouth to argue more, but the tension broke as quickly as it built.

Silence fell.

Y/N crossed her arms, the tulips now resting on the kitchen island between them like some kind of ridiculous symbol of guilt.

Charles ran a hand through his messy hair, pacing a step back. Then forward again. His voice was lower when he finally spoke, quiet and raw.

“I just… don’t like the idea of someone else seeing you the way I do. Like they could take my place, even for a second.”

That made her heart clench. She softened, stepping closer, voice gentler.

“Charles,” she said, slipping her arms around his waist, “No one could ever take your place. You could bring me a dandelion picked from a parking lot and I’d still toss every bouquet for you.”

He met her eyes, and the jealousy faded under the weight of sincerity in hers. His lips parted, as if to apologize—but she leaned up, kissing him softly.

When they broke apart, she whispered against his lips, “You’re the only one I want. Always.”

Charles held her tighter. “Good. Because next time, I’ll throw the flowers away myself.”

She laughed into his chest. “Possessive much?”

“Always,” he murmured, “when it comes to you.”

The apartment was quiet now, except for the soft hum of the city lights outside and the slight storm still lingering in Charles’ eyes.

Y/N was still nestled against his chest when he tilted her chin up. His jaw was tense, and something simmered beneath his touch—a fire laced with possession and vulnerability.

"You drive me insane sometimes," he murmured, voice low and thick.

She smirked softly. “Because someone gave me flowers?”

His fingers brushed her cheek, his thumb stroking her jaw before his grip shifted, holding her face just a little firmer. “Because you have no idea how beautiful you are. No idea what it does to me when someone else tries to see what’s mine.”

The breath caught in her throat.

“I’m yours, Charles,” she whispered.

His gaze darkened. “Say that again.”

“I’m yours.”

And that’s when he lost the restraint.

He kissed her hard—no softness, just heat and unspoken frustration and love poured into every breath they shared. Her back hit the wall behind her as his hands roamed her sides, fingers digging just enough to remind her that he needed this, needed her—badly. The tulips lay forgotten on the counter.

His lips trailed to her neck, biting, sucking—claiming.

“Still thinking about the note?” she teased, breathless as her fingers tangled in his curls.

“No,” he growled into her skin. “Only thinking about you.....”

“You can’t run when the fire’s this strong / And I’m right where I belong…”

“Let me love you like you need…”

-"Unholy War" by Jacob Banks

Clothes came off in a blur—tugged, pulled, tossed across their living room like neither of them could wait another second. The jealousy from earlier had turned into something else—something hotter, wilder, a bit rough, full of aching need.

He had her pinned beneath him on the couch...

His hands were on her instantly, gripping her hips, pulling her close. His mouth crashed onto hers, tongue demanding entry. She yielded, her body pressing against his.

His hands roamed, grabbing her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. She gasped into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders. He broke the kiss, teeth and lips moving to her neck. He bit down, hardness grinding against her, sucking and biting until a bruise formed.

"I won’t apologise for marking you up," Charles growled, his voice rough with lust. "Everyone should know you’re taken."

Y/n's head fell back, exposing more of her neck. She moaned as he sucked harder, knowing tomorrow she'd wear his marks proudly. His hands slid up her back, gripping her shirt and yanking it off. He pushed her back onto the couch, his body covering hers.

He tugged at her jeans, pulling them down roughly, along with her underwear. She kicked them off, her legs wrapping around his waist. He fumbled with his own jeans, freeing his cock. It was thick and hard, pressing against her wet heat. He rubbed the head against her slit, coating it in her juices.

She reached down, gripping his length, guiding him into her. He thrust in hard, filling her completely. She cried out, her back arching off the couch. He began to move, each thrust deep and punishing. The couch creaked under their weight, their bodies slapping together. Each thrust was a claim, raw and primal, and she took every inch like she was made for him.

Charles' hips pistoned, driving his cock deeper into Y/n with each brutal thrust. He left her neck, trailing his mouth down to her collarbone, biting and sucking until fresh bruises bloomed on her skin. She panted, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He moved down, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth, biting down hard. She bucked beneath him, a sharp cry escaping her lips. He switched to the other, giving it the same treatment. His hand slid up her throat, palm wrapping around her neck, thumb pressing firmly against her windpipe. He squeezed gently, feeling her pulse race under his touch.

"You look so good with my hands around your neck," he murmured, his voice a low growl. He increased the pressure slightly, watching her eyes flutter closed, a soft moan escaping her lips. His other hand gripped her hip, fingers digging into her soft flesh as he continued to fuck her, hard and unyielding. The room filled with the scent of sex and the sound of their bodies slapping together.

Charles released her breast, his mouth moving back up to her neck. He bit down hard, drawing blood this time, his hand still wrapped around her throat. She gasped, her eyes flying open, but she didn't push him away. Instead, she pulled him closer, her legs tightening around his waist, urging him deeper. He obliged, his thrusts becoming more savage, more claiming. The couch creaked loudly, protesting their rough use. Charles pressed his lips to her ear. "Every time you look in the mirror, you'll see me. Every fucking time."

Charles' lips curled into a smirk as he felt her inner muscles clench around him, her body responding to his brutal domination. He released her neck, his hand moving to grip her jaw, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were wild, possessive. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice a low growl. "See who's fucking you. See who owns this pussy."

Y/n's eyes met his, her pupils dilated with lust. She reached up, her fingers tracing the lines of his face, down to his lips. She pressed her thumb against his mouth, feeling his teeth graze her skin. He bit down, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make her gasp.

Charles' hips never stopped moving, his cock driving into her with a punishing rhythm. He released her jaw, his hand moving to grip her breast, squeezing hard. He pinched her nipple, rolling it between his fingers until she cried out, her back arching off the couch. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading her mouth, claiming her.

He broke the kiss, his lips moving to her ear. "I want to feel you come around my cock," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "I want to feel your pussy milk me dry."

His hand slid down her body, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed it in tight circles, his touch firm and unyielding. She moaned, her body trembling beneath him. He increased the pressure, his fingers moving faster, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He could feel her body tensing, her inner muscles clenching around him, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Come for me, Y/n," he growled, his voice a low command. "Come all over my cock."

His words pushed her over the edge. She cried out, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over her. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, her juices coating him as he continued to thrust into her, drawing out her orgasm. He groaned, his own release building, his cock swelling inside her.

He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pounded into her, chasing his own release. He threw his head back, a low groan escaping his lips as he came, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his seed. He collapsed on top of her, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He rolled off her, pulling her into his arms, his lips capturing hers in a slow, possessive kiss.

The room was still humming with the remnants of last night. Heavy breaths had softened, but the air still felt charged — with everything left unspoken, everything that was felt too deeply to say.

Y/N lay on top of him, chest rising and falling against his. Her fingers traced slow, lazy patterns across his stomach, still damp with sweat. Her lips were parted slightly, trying to catch her breath, while her legs stayed wrapped around his waist, like she wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

Charles’ hand was splayed wide across her back, his thumb stroking her spine.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. The silence was comfortable, full.

“You okay?” he murmured eventually, voice rough, still thick from everything they’d shared.

Y/N nodded slowly against his chest. “More than okay.”

He looked down at her, eyes softer now. Like all the jealousy from earlier had burned itself out and left behind only raw devotion.

“Did I…” he hesitated, brushing a knuckle along her jaw, “Was it too much?”

She looked up at him then, and the way she smiled—sleepy, messy, completely undone—made his heart clench.

“It was everything I didn’t know I needed,” she whispered.

A quiet sound escaped from his throat, almost like a sigh of relief. He leaned in, kissed her forehead, her cheek, then her lips—slow this time, not urgent. Just tender.

“I didn’t like thinking someone else wanted you,” he said softly. “I hated it.”

“I noticed,” she teased gently, brushing a hand down his arm where light crescent marks from her nails still rested.

“You’re mine,” he said again, almost like a prayer.

She nodded, kissing his collarbone. “And you’re mine.”

They lay like that for a while—bodies tangled, hearts synced. He ran his fingers through her hair, lips pressing soft kisses into her temple every so often, like he couldn’t get enough of touching her. She traced the curve of his collarbone with her fingertip, like memorizing him again, even though she already knew him by heart.

“I think I’m gonna keep the flowers,” she murmured, teasing.

He raised a brow.

“To dry them,” she added. “And then I’ll press them in a book… next to a photo of you looking like a madman last night.”

Charles groaned, pulling the blanket over both of their heads. “You’re evil.”

“And you’re mine,” she whispered under the covers.

And that morning, with no fanfare, no big gestures—just limbs tangled in white sheets, sleepy smiles, soft kisses—was the most romantic thing they’d ever shared.

[ameliaenya404]

More than a Spark

Pairing: Eddie x gn!reader [no explicit detailed mention of the reader's genitalia and gender neutral terms]

Lots of built up sexual tension because it's the best kind of tension

Wc: 1500+

Desperation.

Yearning.

Two things that look unbelievably perfect on every dateable in your home. Especially a certain brooding, dark-haired man down at the breaker box. It's undeniable how Eddie's no good for you, how he's a bit of an asshole who struggles with getting any emotion other that stoicism, which is really a lack of emotion, out when he's around anyone, much less you. But you can see it on his face when he doesn't think you notice.

His heavy-lidded gaze lingers on you as you nurse a drink at the bar, Volt sweet-talking you and Johnny Splash performing yet another charming but terrible a cappella on the stage. Eddie wants you. Badly. You can see it written all over his face, and the white knuckled grip he has on the drinking glasses whenever you tease him.

Volt is easier to read, easier to talk to and touch and Makeout with in the shitty dim lit backroom of the breaker box. Eddie not so much. You've yet to get your hands on his chest and your tongue on his but you have a feeling it might be tonight with the way the bar starts to clear out and he's still glancing your way as he wipes down the bar top.

"You heading home or what?" His gruff voice almost gives you full body shivers, it fills the empty air and demands your attention.

Glancing back at him and moving down a few barstools to sit in front of him, propping your elbows onto the counter he's trying to clean, you smile at him.

"Sounds like you want me to leave," You pout, not that you can pull any sympathy from the man in the state he's in, but maybe you could get something in other than a tired goodnight.

"There are a lot of things I want," his response is vague and casual but leading onto something more that makes your core feel weird. Good weird.

His voice never failed to stir up some feeling inside of you. More specifically the way he spoke. His tone. The words he used. Every sentence is crafted carefully to further uphold the closed-off vibe you got from him. Like he'd let on just enough to pique your curiosity and leave you wanting for more, it was begging to get on your nerves.

"Are you always-"

"Such an asshole?" He chuckles lowly before you can finish.

"Difficult. I was going to say difficult." You retort with a roll of your eyes.

"I'm not exactly sure what it is you want from me, Volt gives you plenty of attention."

"There are a lot of things I want," you repeat his vague statement, giving back the same energy he gave to you.

"Real smart, one of those things being?"

"You," it was time one of you came out and said it.

You were beginning to grow impatient and would rather get shut down than not take a chance at this. Plus talking to Reggie was enjoyable to you, at least there were some positives to getting rejected.

"You have Volt," he says, tossing the towel over his shoulder and giving you a look.

"Call me greedy but I want you too," you shrug, tracing little shapes onto the bar top with the tip of your finger, looking at him through your lashes.

"...I have a feeling I'll regret inviting you to the back," he groans. Which bassicly meant you were.

Months of chipping away at the man's patience led up to this moment and you were thrilled, though you tried not to show too much of it on your face. Only a fraction of it in the form of a slight smirk to mirror his own.

"I'll be good I promise," you giggle softly.

"Oh I'm sure you will," he grumbles, the back of his knuckles sliding against the underside of your jaw and across your cheek slowly before he turns around a begins walking, "You coming?"

You fight back the urge to say 'Oh I will be," instead opting to follow him to the back of the club. The minute you step foot in the back area your arms are around his neck, lips brushing eachother as a silent request.

Permission is granted when he presses his lips against yours. It's hungry and desperate and tense, everything you expected a kiss with him to be like. Behind all the pent-up frustration it's surprisingly gentle and considerate. His hands are on your back, sliding down to get a firm grip on your ass, something that prompts you to moan into the kiss.

Messy is the only way to describe the way your tongue slides against his as one hands find purchase in his hair and the other rests on his firm chest. You tilt your head to kiss him better, deeper. Your noses bump and teeth clash a bit but neither of you finds it in yourselves to react or make a deal out of it, too lost in the heart-racing sensation of each other's lips locked after months of built-up glances and sexually charged interactions.

Eventually, you have to part with him for the necessity that is oxygen. If you didn't need air you think you'd never willingly part from him. Forhead to forhead, his hands still gripping onto your ass, your hands still in his hair now dragging down to hold his face as you both pant. It's hot and stuffy in the backroom, a shitty torn up couch and box TV shoved in a corner to keep Volt and him entertained or something, Volt talked about it one time but you were too preoccupied with kissing on his neck to care.

The fantasy of having them both on and in you was never fleeting, but you had just gotten Eddie so you figured you'd still have to work up to the Volt and Eddie sandwich you so desperately wanted.

"I want to fuck you so bad, I need to fuck you so bad" Eddie groans. A sentence you've never thought you'd hear in your life time blessing your ears. You could have jumped up and down with joy if it wasn't mood-killing.

"I wanna fuck you too, so fucking bad Eddie you don't even know." You chuckle, kissing him again.

"Oh I think I know," he groans against your lips, lifting you up with ease and dropping you onto the couch.

For a torn-up god knows how old piece of furniture it provided some comfort, just about the bare minimum though. It was awkward to position yourselves on, you opted for having him take his pants off and sit down, and straddle him for a more efficient position. He slid his vest off and let out a groan the minute your hands touched his bare chest and your lips were kissing his neck and jaw.

You wondered if he could shock you. Maybe not, Volt was the real electricity and energy, Eddie was just the...wires? Well, you could get shocked by wires, yeah? Volts shocks stung enough so you weren't exactly willing to test your theory with Eddie. Instead trying to avoid his wires, similar to how you avoided touching Volt's wild hair. Though it was pretty to look at.

"You want this, live wire?" The endearing little nickname leaving his lips in his voice in that tone made you shiver. Nodding enthusiastically.

"I need to hear you say it," he chuckles, one hand gently holding your chin, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your cheek as he forces you to meet his gaze.

"I want this," you practically whine. The sexy confident act falls a little, leaving behind the sight of someone who needs something really bad. Leaving behind the sight of pure desperation and desire. You could see some of it in his dark eyes too.

"You want what, live wire?"

The way he was looking at you was positively simple and it made you weak everywhere.

"I want you to fuck me Eddie, need it. So so bad. Need it so bad, please fuck me." You amped the pleading up, giving him everything he wanted and more, giving him a look of want, slightly biting your bottom lip, your brows furrowed a bit and your eyes sparkling with something sensual.

It felt erotic.

It was erotic.

It was no longer just sexy, passing glances. No longer a thought in your mind you entertained every night alone in bed. You were straddling him on his couch, your hands exploring his chest. It was sensual and erotic and almost perverted the way the two of you were looking at each other. Touching each other, as if you'd never touch each other again.

Which you very well might not. He could decide he wants nothing to do with you after tonight. But deep down part of you knew Eddie and how he wouldn't do that. Once he's deep in something he stays. And soon he'd be deep into you, literally.

With your explicit permission he slides down your pants until they fall onto the floor, you in turn sliding down his boxers until they rest halfway down his thighs. He's a good size, the perfect girth to fill you up and leave you completely satisfied with no want for anything more other than him pounding into you.

You giggled softly as he groaned from your hands sliding down his chest, brushing against his happy trail and down to his cock. Stroking it a few times just to relish in the sounds he made in response before lining yourself up with his length.

The sounds you both let out as you sit down on him are sinful and filled with pleasure. Your head tilts back as you moan but his hand comes up to grab your chin bringing your face inches from his, his lips brushing softly against yours as you settle on his cock. Accustoming yourself to the stretch and the slight sting that melts right into ecstasy. Eddie kisses you with passion, pouring everything pent up into it as you got used to the feeling of his cock inside you. The gruff closed off asshole who worked at the Breaker Box now laid beneath you looking perfect and kissing you like he'd never get the chance to again.

"I'm gonna move now, kay'?" You mumble softly against his lips and he nods, with his permission you begin to slowly move up and down his cock before going just a bit faster once you get a sense of rhythm.

The sounds he makes are more than enough to let you know you're doing perfectly. Riding him is euphoric, a sensation unlike any other. The dimly lit stuffy backroom and broken-down couch creaking only add to the dirty real feeling of it all. It was messy, your wetness making your thighs slick as you went up and down on his cock. His cock felt perfect and snug inside of you, your hands resting on his broad shoulders, finger nails digging into them drawing a groan from his lips which you then kissed, swallowing the sounds he was making, your own sweetly blending with them.

You reach your peak, coming with a long satisfied moan, head thrown back a bit, his calloused hands gently rubbing your hips and working you through it. Right before, you can feel him about to come, slipping off of him and stroking his cock a few times until thick ropes of cum hit your and his stomach as he finishes with a satisfied moan.

You both sit there, sweaty and panting, trying to calm down.

"You know, I would've appreciated a little invitation to this show." Volt's voice startles both of you out of the trance you were in.

"I'll be sure to let you know next time then," Eddie chuckles, his hands resting warmly on your waist and everything seems to click into place as you all let out small laughs.

[marigold-hills]

your hands; mine (Stalker Remus AU) Part 6

PART 1 | | PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

The first spoonful is like silk.

Remus moans. Audibly, aloud. At the taste, at the texture. Bites into a chunk of frozen chocolate and it starts to melt on his tongue - calling it silk is a disservice. He wants to savor, to be slow about it, but he eats like a dog lapping up its favourite meal. Can’t hold himself back until the bowl is empty.

He looks up when Sirius’ milkshake makes a slurping empty sound. The straw is still in between those pretty lips. Sirius is wide eyed and staring, like he’s stuck in some liminal moment inside of his own mind.

Remus feels a trail of melted ice cream dribbling down the edge of his chin. He wipes it off with the back of his hand. Thoughtless, licks it off: tongue outstretched to catch every drop like it’s something holy.

Sirius chokes.

Just like that, Remus is brought back to himself. Feels ashamed. Dirty, ugly display of greed and bad manners. “Sorry,” he says, playing with the spoon to occupy his fingers.

“Looked like you enjoyed it.” Sirius’ voice wavers and he coughs a bit, like he’s regaining a breath.

“I did. Thank you.” Remus’ mam raised him to be a polite man. He knows this about himself. He tries to remember how to be one.

“You murdered someone for me,” Sirius says carelessly and flippantly and so very blunt. “Least I can do, really.”

Remus knows what he did. He sees glimpses of the blood on his hands. Sees the man towering over Sirius like a shadow. But somehow, despite all of this, in the cozy night of Sirius’ flat, amidst the kebab and the ice cream, he’s forgotten.

Now he remembers. Like a tidal wave rising and rising and rising. The memory is more like realisation: he killed a man. He ended a life. This person no longer exists, who they were and who they could have been, gone because of Remus.

It doesn’t make any sense. How can something - how can someone - be and then just not be? 

“Huh,” Remus says, or tries to. “Excuse me,” he thinks he adds as he stands up and walks to the bathroom. Kneels on the white tiles. Dry heaves into the white toilet bowl. It smells like citrus chemicals, sharp and harsh and cloying at his nostrils and throat. His eyes water and he closes them on a cough and remembers the one Sirius let out when the man kicked him.

There must be a bruise. Remus should have checked him over better.

Should have done a lot of things better.

The taste of chocolate turns vile. Shaky legs, he forces himself up and over the sink. Cupped hands under the tap he fills his mouth with water. Washes it out and spits it out and gargles. 

You murdered someone for me. 

These new builds are made in such ways that things echo. In a white-tiled bathroom even thoughts do. 

Sirius’s block of flats was only completed three years ago, nobody else has ever lived there. It’s not like the rows of houses where Remus lives, each of them passed down through generations or through estate agents. Where death and birth have happened so much they become commonplace. 

Here, Remus feels like the moment he stepped over the threshold he brought with him a ghost. Ghosts don’t belong in flats like this one.

Remus splashes water into his eyes and thinks he better take the ghost back with him. Better make space for it in his own narrow life. Underneath the washing machine, maybe, or in the slit between the fridge and the counter, where he can never quite properly clean. 

It will share his bed now, Remus thinks. Drink his tea. Look at him from behind mirrors and across the windows and just over his shoulder, out of reach and out of touch. 

Remus didn’t think he would be inviting someone’s presence to join his life. He’s been living alone since he moved out of the cottage, a decade ago. It’s a long time to make routines and get used to one's own ways.

“Remus?” Sirius calls out from the living room. His voice is far from the bathroom door. 

NEXT PART

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

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[kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit]

Can i make a request? Maybe headcanons or just ideas of malleus, Leona, Vil and kalim with a s/o like kiyomi haunterly from monster high? Maybe she is a ghost from the ramshackle dorm that barely leaves the place bc she is shy.

Also reader would always change color of her face with her emotions!

I hope this request is of your liking

Best idea ever! I got chu (i could only come up with Leona and Malleus I'm sorry!)

___________________________________________

Malleus

Malleus is the type of boyfriend to have little hangouts with you, walking around the outside of the dorm listening to you tell stories from when you were alive and all the adventures you had with your old friends

Malleus is the type of boyfriend that he'll bring you books of gargoyle and exploring to you the history and each unique design detail that are sculpted in, you'll be sitting on you're bed your head resting on his shoulder while he reads his favorite chapters and shows you his favorite pictures in the book

Malleus is the type of boyfriend who will lean into your ear and say something sweet to you, poetic and just full of adoration "your skin as cold as ice; with eyes as warm as spring stir my heart in ways nothing else that could be compared to the way I feel beneath your touch. Under the gaze of those alluring eyes". And then leans back to watch your face turn beat red and lips slightly gape, he takes the chance given and kisses you to prove his point.

Malleus who sits with you while having tea, while you float and make conversation he makes sure to give you the baked goods you liked when you were alive and placed them on a plate, placing it in front of you. He's present in the conversation listening and putting his opinion on the topic and while you talk he reaches and places his hand on top of yours, rubbing across your knuckles softly as he stares into your eyes with love pupils dilated so big you would think they were bona pearls.

Malleus who holds you close at night is warm and cold keeping you both comfortable, as you get together to experience body heat for the night unlike the coldness of being a ghost and he gets to cool down from his dragon body heat.

Malleus who love to kiss the back of your hand, little tingles of his magic lingering on you're ghostly skin, you returned it with cheek and forehead kisses

___________________________________________

Leona

Leona is the type of boyfriend to hold you by the waist with his tail just to feel your cold ghost body heat so that he can cool off during his nap or while he's walking around the campus along with you since you like to linger around him.

Leona is the the type of boyfriend to put clips in your hair when he notices how it brother's you

Leona is the type of boyfriend that as a joke he will get a ouija board to see if you will use it to communicate with him, and he will use it when you're upset with him and don't want to speak to him face to faceN he gets it you're mad but you also want to express yourself when you can't do it with words in that moment

Leona is the type of boyfriend who will visit your grave and take naps under the tree next to the tombstone and then talk with you as you sit on it or hover next to it

Leona is the type of boyfriend that when he teases you he takes mental pictures of how your face turns pinks, purples and darker blues

Leona is the type of boyfriend that even if he is a gru python cat, just can't say no to you wanting to cuddle up next to him on the couch in ramshackle

Leona is the type of boyfriend who has in many occasions forgot that you are a ghost and when you go through the door he tries to follow you and doing so gets hit by the closed door or wall he'll grumble "damn door in my way.. can't follow poltergeist all the way" he'll then actually open the door to continue following you

Leona who stays endless hours with you in ramshackle since it's the place you are most comfortable in and roam the grounds freely with a happy smile, he holds your hand as you two walk around the dorm his hand engulfing yours as he gently sways your intertwined hands back and forth but swears you're the one doing it.

Leona is the type of boyfriend that on the day of Halloween he'll dress up as a pirate and you as his mermaid/Merman though he's grumpy saying that you made him dress up but knowing dang well it was him who had the outfit planned and added to cart 3 weeks before Halloween

Leona is the type of boyfriend to hold your hand and trail his nails on your palm lines and sometimes hold them on where your pulse would have been and wondering what would your heartbeat sound like when you two cuddle and he presses his ear to your chest where your heart would be beating.

Leona is the type of boyfriend to kiss your neck from behind and watch as you turn full red and go hide behind a wall afterwards

Leona is the type of boyfriend who stays in ramshackle to cuddle with you in your old bedroom that he has refurbished so that he can stay the night copied up with you while he holds your translucent body to his.

[vodika-vibes]

hi vod'ika!! is there any chance I could request a Neyo one shot? maybe something fluffy where he's aggressively making sure the reader takes care of themselves? thank you!!!!

Baby, It's Hot Outside

Summary: In the middle of the worst heat wave in Coruscant history, your loving boyfriend aggressively makes sure you take care of yourself.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x F!Reader

Word Count: 956

Warnings: None, reader is described as wearing a bikini

A/N: This story is brought to you by the fact that it's really fucking hot outside. I hope you like it~

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It’s hot.

The kind of hot that makes you want to lay in front of the freezer with the door open, or to sit in an ice bath just for some relief from the heat.

The air conditioner is doing what it can, but it’s so hot that it can barely keep up.

More importantly, because of all of the people using so much power all of the time, due to the sheer amount of heat, city officials announced earlier that they’re implementing rolling blackouts. Which means, for 8 hours a day, you’re not going to have any power at all.

The notice you got said that the rolling blackouts should only happen at night.

Which is super. Save for the fact that it’s just as hot at night as it is during the day. The only difference, of course, being that the sun isn’t beating down on your poor apartment at night.

You grimace as you realize that you’re sticking to the material of your couch, and seriously contemplate just biting the bullet, so to speak, and spending credits to go to the indoor beach just down the road.

You’re already lounging in your bikini, after all. It’s just that hot.

Instead, though, you decide to try laying on the floor. Maybe it’ll be a little cooler there.

It won’t be, but you can hope.

You don’t even lift your head when you hear the sound of your front door opening. There’s only so many people who know the code to enter the apartment building in the first place, and even fewer who know that code and the code needed to enter your apartment.

A familiar voice reaches your ears as you hear Neyo cursing up a storm in the front hallway.

That causes you to lift your head to peek at your boyfriend.

Your normally unflappable boyfriend is dropping his armor on the floor like it personally offended him, and his normally perfectly controlled curls are wild around his head. Plus, the dark material of his blacks are soaked in sweat, you can tell from where you’re laying.

“You good, Neyo?” You ask from where you’re half sitting up on the floor.

“I’ll live,” He replies, his voice exhausted. And then he turns to look at you, and his brows creep up his forehead, “Are you planning on going swimming?”

You laugh and fall back to the floor, “No. Yes. Maybe.”

“Well, it does have to be one of those options.” You hear Neyo walking over to you, and you turn your head in time to see him strip off the top of his blacks. A happy hum slips from you and you roll onto your stomach, kicking your legs up behind you, so you can admire him.

“See something you like, Princess?”

“Mm-hmm,” You rest your chin on the palms of your hands as you entertain yourself by tracing his tattoos with your eyes. You’d get up and touch him, but honestly, it’s too hot for that. “How was your morning?”

He glances at you, and huffs out a quiet laugh, “Miserable. We spent all morning working outside until some of the shinies collapsed from the heat. They’re going to be fine, but they’re in medical right now.”

You frown at the thought, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Or I will be once I shower and cool down a little.” His dark gaze flickers to your face, “Have you been hydrating?”

“Meh.”

“Don’t you ‘meh’ me. It’s karking hot, cyare. You need to hydrate.”

“I had some lemonade a bit ago.”

“That’s not the same thing, and you know it.” Neyo scolds. You watch him vanish into the kitchen for a moment, and then he returns with a half frozen water bottle, which he sets on the floor in front of you, “Drink.”

“Bossy.”

“Yes, I am. And you love it. Drink the water.”

You huff but properly sit up so you can safely drink some of the water. Annoyingly, the ice water makes you feel slightly less like you’re about to keel over and die.

“Feel better?”

You pout at him, “No.” You lie, badly.

“That’s what I thought.” He lightly trails his fingers over the top of your head, “Wanna take a shower with me?” Neyo asks as he crouches so he’s closer to eye level with you.

“Won’t that make us both hotter?”

“Well, I was planning on taking a cooler shower than normal, to help keep the temperature down.” Neyo lazily drags his calloused fingers down the back of your head and then to your jaw, “But now I’m thinking that maybe a cool bath would be better.”

“That does sound nice.”

“Doesn’t it? We can both cool down, and I get to hold you. Best of both worlds.”

You toss him a small grin, “And so the truth comes out.”

“Hey, I’ve never denied that I like holding you, cyare.” He shrugs, completely unashamed, and you laugh.

“I’m not against it, but you should grab some candles.”

He shoots you a weird look, “Cyare, it’s so hot outside I’m pretty sure that the street signs were crying.”

“Yeah, but the blackouts are going to start soon, and there’s no other light sources in the bathroom. So, candles.”

Neyo sighs, “Right. Those.” He leans in and steals a kiss, “As you wish, cyar’ika. Go run the bath for us while I try to find the candles.”

“Sure! After one more kiss~”

“Spoiled.” He chides, but even so, he leans in and presses a slow kiss to your lips, as if he wants to savor the kiss. And you melt into him. The heat isn’t so bad, after all. Not when you have Neyo here to enjoy it with you.

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[olgasaysso]

The apothecary diaries made me realize something very interesting about how women perceive power...

I can't be the only one who noticed that in stories written by women power is often compared to a prison or a cage meanwhile in the ones written by men it's mostly fun and freedom.

It is that women tend to see power as more of an responsibility and men think of it as the ability to do whatever they want?

The apothecary diaries made me think of it first. I discovered with surprise that I actually like the emperor, which I almost never do. Any guy that has relationship with more than one woman at once tends to disgust me, especially if he's in a position of power but for some reason not him.

Because the emperor is as much a prisoner as the 2000 women in the rear palace. Maybe even more because as long as he doesn't touch them, they're allowed to leave.

Like on one hand, he's the most powerful man in the empire. He calls the shots, right?

But on the other hand, he can't even properly protect Lishu from being sold to some pedofile by her father. The only way he could protect her was to make her his concubine and how f*cked up is that? She's like a daughter to him and the only way he could protect her was by marrying her? And then he couldn't even spend time with her anymore because that would be read wrong.

It's the fact that 3 of his children died because there was no proper medic to save them due to the fact that they don't allow non eunuchs to treat them and forbid women practicing medicine... when he doesn't even care about that. He hasn't blinked once at Maomao running around the inner palace and being a doctor.

At first when I was watching the story I thought of how horrible it was that he didn't even visit Lady Lihua after their son died. But then it made me think of how he's literally not allowed to get attached because of his position and how hard it is for him? The fact that he couldn't even provide enough support for Lady Ah-Duo so she doesn't lose her uterus? The fact that she switched their baby with his brother and he had to watch his son grow up "away" from him?

There's so much more to this, especially with Jinshis approach to power and I could go on an on but I think I made my point.

And when I started comparing the stories written by women to those by men... Women tend to write power as more of a burden than a gift.

After watching TAD I watched solo leveling.

And for those of you who don't know, it's basically a story about a guy who suddenly "discovers" that he's like a character in a game (not exactly but it's be too long to explain) and basically finds out that he has endless potential and over the course of the story he becomes the most powerful being in the entire universe.

And there's a moment where he's talking to his little sisters friend that gets very misread as something inappropriate by another character.

This other character points out, kindly, to Sung Jinwoo that the girl is a minor.

Sun Jinwoo doesn't understand so he just looks at him and asks "so?".

And so the guy immediately gets scared and never mentions it again despite the two of them being friends.

This moment is kind of played for laughs. Nothing actually happened, Sung Jinwoo is a good guy so he wouldn't.

But he could. Nobody could do anything to stop him.

And when I watched that I laughed too. But then I thought of how terrifying that is. To have someone be so above the law, this untouchable. Who can do anything he pleases because no one will ever stop him.

But that's never actually adressed in the show other than to show us how cool this is.

It this was written by Natsu Hyūga there'd probably be a million different situations to show us how fucked up this is and how it weighs on the main character.

In the apothecary diaries Jinshi doesn't even want to ask anything directly of Maomao because he doesn't want her to interpret it as an order.

[roses-and-sakura]

Hear me out AU:

In Twisted Wonderland, Magestones are eroginous zones to their user.

Like I think I’ve seen a fancomic about it before or I was just Delulu- BUT IT WAS ON MY MIND RN AND I NEED TO LET IT OUT

So pls listen:

Magestones are used to channel their magic, blot, and can be connected to a mage’s soul, become hyper-sensitive focal points of both magical energy and emotional feedback.

Because of their connection to the user’s life force, physical or magical contact with a Magestone can create reactions ranging from intense sensory stimulation to emotional vulnerability—almost like an magical erogenous zone.

The Magestone would glow in pulses depending on the user’s heightened emotion.

After acquiring a Magestone, it can grow alongside the user, as if it has become so used to their owner's magic that its technically linked to them and attuned to their physical and mental well-being. (That or since magestones form as a result of crystals absorbing magic from the earth and air, maybe it also absorbs the users magic just a little bit when it channels their magic and absorbs their blot.)

But if you don’t use your magestone frequently, or use different kinds of magestones frequently (like you use A only a little bit before getting B since its a different color or smth(idk what I’m doing, just know what I mean ig)), there won’t be that kind of connection.

Prolonged stimulation—through magical probing, enchantment, or any sort of touch—can cause involuntary responses such as increased heart rate, shivering, flushed skin, or even a loss of composure.

Some advanced mages are trained to keep their composure when their Magestone is tampered with. Inexperienced or emotionally unstable mages may not have that control.

…It can be seen as a little rude if you touch someone’s magestone/s unless in certain circumstances like where a certain coach had to take them for his students’ training camp.

Some people can intuitively sense another’s Magestone “pulse”, or in the MC/Yuu’s case, maybe the dripping sounds when they’re close to blot.

Reactions from Dorm Leaders + Jamil

• Riddle Rosehearts: He’ll either be composed but upset or get completely flustered if anyone touches his Magestone. He considers it rude and inappropriate, and may behead you. His magic might even flare if you don’t apologize quickly.

• Leona Kingscholar: He’ll growl if you so much as glance at his Magestone for too long. But if someone he likes touches it? He smirks and dares them to try again- idk maybe he’d also pin you down too. (Aldvekshenbd- I’m rolling on the floor at the thought)

• Azul Ashengrotto: Hides any reaction behind a composed front, maybe jolt ever so slightly—but his magestone pulses visibly if stimulated. He might retreat to his office under the pretense of “urgent paperwork,” but really, he’s trying to calm the pulse in his Magestone.

• Kalim Al-Asim: He may eather get uncomfortable and start squirming away with an excuse or BLUSHES SO HARD he practically combusts.

“W-Whoa! That tickled! I mean—wait, was that supposed to feel that good?! Aha—oh no—JAMIL HELP?!”

Kalim doesn’t fully understand what you’ve just done to him, but his Magestone starts glowing like a beacon. He gets flustered and Jamil would appear immediately to drag him away, glaring at you like you just committed high treason.

• Jamil Viper: At first, Jamil stiffens. Not from surprise—he always anticipates others’ movements—but from how much it affects him. You might think he’s unaffected until he gets upset and berates or or gets angry enough to use his UM for you to never bother him with useless things again.

• Vil Schoenheit: Vil doesn’t react visibly—he controls his body well. But his Magestone glows soft violet, betraying how rattled he really is. If someone touches it, they’d better mean it unless they want to be verbally criticized by him. I think Rook would deal with those who just want to see a reaction out of him honestly-

• Idia Shroud: Honestly don’t think it would happen since his stone is in that Skull Catalyst thing-yes I’m referencing Genshin weapons. But if you did manage to touch it, the Magestone would react too much. Like it sparks, his hair may turn pink, and he retreats into his dorm. Later, he might say something in a flustered murmur like, “T-t-that’s off-limits unless you want to… ugh, nevermind.”

• Malleus Draconia: Touching his Magestone is like invoking a some Fae custom/tradition. Like touching the Magestone is an ancient sign of intimacy, maybe like proposing a soul bond (or Marriage lololol). He does not take it lightly.

If you’re a stranger? You may have just cursed yourself.

If you’re close to him?

“If you’re ready to bear the consequences… then do it again.”

[lchufflepuffcorn]

Do you think the dragon hybrids would like, scent their lover? If that makes sense. Since I would assume dragons have a distinct smell, the hybrids just rub up in their lovers like a cat. -💎

Note: Such a cute ask!! Thank you 💎anon!!

Warning: None

Masterlist

Dragon!hybrids Masterlist

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I think some of them definitely would. Those who do either because they cannot control their instinct of wanting to claim their lover\mate in a softer, more superficial way, or simply because they are confident about what they do and why they do it, seeing it as an active part of your romantic and sexual lives. Those who don’t are probably ashamed of their needwant, not knowing how to answer their lover’s questioning looks when they do it.

Aegon would instinctively rub himself all over his lover without a care in the world, having you sat underneath him on your shared bed. Wings wrapped around you like a cocoon and little chirps leaving his throat as he’s unable to otherwise communicate what relief and pleasure the simple act of scenting you brings him. You’ve known him long enough not to ask about this sudden bout of physical touch need he was fulfilling now, preferring to let Aegon get his fill. Questioning him usually made him mad, and he would retreat into a grumpy silence you didn't care to entertain most nights. And Aegon is only too please to have you so pliant under him as you let him have his fun. He would never admit that he likes th subtil whiff of his smoky, sulfuric smell tangled with yours, and sweetened by the oils you use to bath. That’s a secret he’ll bring in death with him.

Aemond is more sneaky about it. He’ll leave his hand on your shoulder or back, have you were his cape when he deems it too cold (he doesn’t even need a bloody cape!!) He also uses sex as ha way to feed his need of scenting you so as to not have to answer questions he cannot give intelligent and thought off explanations. However he’ll have you, you can be sure that Aemond’s nose will be nuzzling your neck sometime or another, his body pressed so close you thing he wants you to merge with him, truly become one. The scales of his skin leaving visible indentations onto your skin when your both done. And Aemond relishes on his scent, like a lit incense, that follows you around for the day afterward, mixing with the other scent that makes you, well, you.

Baela is confident enough in herself and your relationship that she would not hide the scenting. Sure, she would keep it to a minimum around others, but she wouldn’t keep you in the dark about it either. Having you wear one of her scales, rubbing her hands on your body, covered or not, letting the burnt rosewood that was her smell seep into you, mixing with the more unique smell of you. Maybe she would have you wear one of her (numerous) ribbons, somewhere on your person, just because she likes having a visual reminder of her ownership (that’s a dirty word, but is nonetheless true) of you. And she dislikes leaving traces of your intimity for others to see. The burnt marks of her hands in your skin is a reminder enough of how fragiles humans are, and what physical/visual marks can spur on.

Daemon would be very quiet about scenting. Not letting you know exactly why he keeps touching your neck and wrists and ankles. But he would get mad if you dodge him, or worse, wash his scent off. It would take, I imagine, some time before he’s comfortable enough with you to explain (a bit) about scenting. His touches would also become more affectionate, less hidden. Mornings where Daemon would let his hands caress your body, waking you up gently until you’re all but drunk off of him. Having you writhing with pleasure, lust or not, simply because he can and he wants to. Scenting, to Daemon, is the hicky of royalty. People get thrown off by something, they don’t quite know what, but he does, and most importantly, you do too. Daemon would never admit to liking the mix of his burnt-meat-smell with yours… Caraxes is more talkative about it then him.

Helaena scents you very rarely. She scents her children more than she does you, which, to a point, is understandable. The insulting part is that you’re with her more than her children. Helaena was not taught the dragon ways, and Alicent didn’t encourage the scenting between her children either, even if it’s a formative part of packbounding and childhood in dragon hybrids. Helaena tends to scent you when she gets overwhelmed by something. Too many people, a stressful moment, after a tea with her mother. It’s her hand placed in the crook of your arm, a brush of her hair tangling with your own, or your clothes. She does it in all settings of her life, private or more public (or as public as Helaena goes, anyways.) the smell of burned grass mingled with the smell she associated with you calming her more than any potions the maesters had ever given her. That’s usually when Dreamfyre takes over her mind to sooth them both.

Jacaerys likes having you smell like him, like too-warm sand on a too-hot day. He likes having you touching him in any way, shape and form possible. He doesn’t really shy away from scenting you when people are around, even if he tries to stay princely around strangers or in official meetings. But could you really blame him? If he doesn’t scent you, then he has to contain Vermax (more than usual), and appear normal when doing it, and he’s expected to be alert, too. So he just… scent you, whenever the urge takes him. In the garden after playing with his siblings? Done. While lazing around in bed? Easy. Because some lord of a small house looked at you just a bit weirdly for a bit too long? Bet. Jacaerys is proud of his dragon traits and won’t shy away from it, so what makes some people weirded out? They just have to avert their gaze when they see his arms encircle you.

Laenor is more discreet about it. Sure, he’ll rub himself like a cat on you in private, but there are apparences to uphold, unfortunately. Laenor cannot scent you whenever he pleases, and this is his tragedy. It does not deter him from giving you presents! Clothes (his), and congratulations!! You now share a perfume. Something akin to encens and the sea air that he’s so fond of, and mixing to you, Leanor would roll in it himself if he could. Seasmoke is particularly proud when you wear a piece of his clothing in public, and Laenor has to reign them in so as not to smother you in affection. But Rhaenyra could tell you about Laenor’s micro expressions that he cannot hide well. The little tremor in his hands when you walk past, the way his eyes search for you in the sea of people when your intermingled scent floats to him. How his scaly tail raises to alertness when he recognizes a familiar shirt on your shoulders.

Rhaena would like to scent you, but lacks the instinct to need it. She knows that not scenting you should bother her, is bothering her, but she cannot bring herself to do it, as it brings her no satisfaction. The urge of having you be hers completely in the most innocent and intimate way cannot be filled. Her nose cannot pick up on the scent that should be hers on you. It’s a subject she is not willing to bring with you, or anyone else, for that matter. At least not for a long time. What you don’t know won't hurt you, and gods know how hurt you become in knowing her to be unfulfilled.

Rhaenyra is unbothered in scenting you outrageously. Younger, she would make a small show of pressing herself against your body, making people’s gaze falter from you, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips as Syrax’s purrs echoed in her mind and out of her throat. The heavy smell of melted metal soaking up your skin and clothes, not that you notice, anyway. As she grew, Rhaenyra found that she didn’t need to express her possessivity so harshly. You were hers completely, without a doubt or the shadow of reticence. Yet, having you prowl around smelling both as yourself and her made the dragon spirit sharing her mind preen harder than anything else. Clothes were now kept with hers, in the same chest, washed with the same care, by the same hands. Individuality of bath time now non-existent after all those years, but if it kept your queen smiling, who were you to refuse her?

Taglist: @lady-dragon-rider

Current anon: 👑😵‍💫🥰🧑‍🍼😣🧑‍⚕️☄️💎✨❤️ 🌞

[faithsmadhouse]

Scenario one Max and Charles

Summary —In this mini series we get to see Lando being passed around by his boyfriends like the desperate slut he is. This series will be a subby/bottom Lando series

Warnings—Anal SexFace-FuckingDegradation KinkSize KinkCamboy Lando NorrisBottom Lando NorrisDom/sub Undertoneslive stream exhibitionDirty TalkspittingName CallingHair Pullingemotional overstimulation

A/n I’m not sure what tags I’m missing I’m coping and pasting this from my A03

A/n—please if you are not into these kind of fics please don’t read!

A/n— I did not edit this at all so my be cringe and awful/awkward

Lando let out a whine of desperation as Max gripped his hips tightly keeping him still. He was sitting on Max’s much bigger lap Lando’s back was pressed against Max’s chest the sheer size difference was making Lando’s mind feel fuzzy along with Max’s cock deep inside him making Lando’s breath hitch. Lando felt a slight shiver run through his body at the feeling of Max's voice against his ear. The way Max was holding him was already affecting his mind, making him feel a bit dizzy.

"Max, I- I can't-" Lando began to protest, still panting from the feeling of Max inside him. He could feel Max's arms wrapping around him, and he let out a small whine before continuing.

"I can't-" Lando paused as Max tightened his grip, his mind still processing the situation. He was sitting on Max's lap, held tight by those strong arms around him. Max's breath against his ear was making his skin tingle.

"Max, I-" Lando started again, but he was quickly interrupted by a small moan as Max hit a certain spot.

“I think you can,” Max says, placing small kisses on Lando’s before biting his shoulder. Lando couldn't hold back another moan as he felt Max's lips and teeth on his skin. The feeling of Max's arms holding him tight was already affecting him, and now Max's lips and teeth were making his head spin.

“Look into the camera, baby boy. Say hi to all of your followers” Max says shifting causing Lando to squeak.

“H-hi everyone,” he says.

Off to the side, he can see Charles stroking his cock. Lando’s mouth watered at the sight. Wincing as Max yanked on his hair making him look back at the camera.

“Keep going”

Swallowing and letting out a shaky breath Lando continued “We have a surprise guest with us today” he says as comments begin to roll in wondering who it is along with praise and lewd comments.

“That’s it, tell'em who it is,” Max says looking at Charles.

“Today we have fan favorite Charles Leclerc,” Lando says, licking his lips.

With the mention of the popular Monegaque Charles walked into the view of the camera smirking and petting Lando on the head as if he was a puppy.

“Oh bébé, tu es trop gentil,” Charles says looking at Lando. Lando felt a shiver run through his body as Charles entered the camera's view, looking at him with that mischievous smirk. Lando had a weak spot for Charles, and that look in his eyes was making his stomach flutter.

"Oh Charles," Lando breathed, feeling Charles' fingers through his hair. The feeling of Charles caressing his hair was sending tingles down his spine. Lando couldn't keep his eyes off him.

"Bébé?" he repeated, feeling warm at the nickname. He tried to speak but only another small whine came out.

“Why don’t you make me feel good and then maybe Max and I will let cum. How does that sound? Charles says looking at the pair of them.

Lando's mind was spinning as he heard Charles' suggestion. The thought of making Charles feel good was already making him dizzy. It was something he wanted, something he *needed*. He wanted to feel Charles' attention, his touch, his voice in his ear.

Lando looked to Max for confirmation, his eyes wide and pleading, his body trembling slightly. He could feel Max's hands still holding him tightly, his grip keeping Lando in place on his lap.

Max chuckled at Lando's expression. "Look at you, all needy and desperate to please Charles," he teased, his voice coming out in a low, sultry tone.

Lando whined in response, unable to deny the truth in Max's words. He wanted to make Charles feel good, to give him pleasure, to make him happy. Lando looked pleadingly over at Charles, his mouth already watering at the thought.

“Look at him whining for it like a bitch in hate,” Charles said in a mocking tone.

“Can’t blame him,” Max says, squeezing Charles’s bare hip.

Comments continued to pour in like a long with new subscribers and money.

Charles smirked, giving his cock another stroke as he stepped closer to tapping Lando’s lips with the tip of his cock.

Lando's eyes widened as Charles brought the tip of his cock to his lips. He opened his mouth automatically, his tongue flicking out to taste the precum leaking from the tip. The flavor was musky and masculine, and Lando couldn't help but moan around the cock in his mouth.

Charles groaned at the feeling of Lando's warm mouth wrapped around his cock. He gently thrust his hips forward, pushing his cock deeper into Lando's mouth. "Fuck, look at him sucking my dick like a good little bitch," Charles said, his voice dripping with pride as he looked over at Max.

“It’s the one thing he knows how to do right,” Max says. Lando gagged slightly as Charles hit the back of his throat, his eyes watering from the sudden depth. He pulled back slightly, gasping for air before sinking back down, determined to please Charles. He looked up at Charles with pleading eyes, his mouth stuffed full of cock, silently asking for more.

The combination of being stuffed with Max's cock in his ass while trying to properly suck Charles's dick had Lando's head spinning in sheer pleasure and submission. His whimpers vibrated around Charles's cock as Max moved beneath him, thrusting deeper into Lando's tight hole.

Charles wrapped his hands in Lando's hair, forcing his face down onto his lap as Max's powerful arms wrapped around Lando's waist, pulling him down onto his massive lap. "He's taking both of us so well,"

“He’s doing so well I think he deserved a reward. What do you think Charles should I play with his cock”? Max asked.

Lando whimpered around Charles's girth, his eyes fluttering closed at the thought of getting attention on his neglected little member. He was so focused on pleasing the two massive men that he almost forgot about his own needs.

Charles pulled his cock out of Lando's mouth with a pop, a string of saliva connecting his lip to the tip of his dick. He looked down at Lando with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with sadistic intent. "I think Max has the perfect idea,"

Max wrapped his thick fingers around Lando's cock, his large hands engulfing the length. He began to slowly stroke Lando, his powerful grip making Lando whimper and buck his hips against Max's lap, trying to get more friction. "He likes it,"

Charles chuckled, reaching out to join in, his hand wrapping around Max's, effectively doubling the pressure on Lando's cock. They began to stroke him in unison, their hands moving in perfect synchrony as they pumped Lando's cock.

Lando let out a high-pitched whine, his eyes rolling back as pleasure overwhelmed him. His small body shook and trembled, sandwiched between the two massive men as they stroked his sensitive cock. He could feel his orgasm building, his balls tightening as he got closer and closer to the edge.

Charles took his hand away and grabbed his cock and stuffed Lando’s mouth full of it not caring about Lando cumming or not.

Charles' cock immediately filled his mouth again, Lando gagged slightly but quickly relaxed his throat, eager to please. The dual sensation of being stuffed in his mouth and having Max's thick fingers work his cock had him spiraling closer to the edge.

"That's it, take it like the good little cocksucker you are," Charles grunted as he thrust his hips forward, fucking Lando's face. Meanwhile, Max's hand continued its skilled pace on Lando's cock, bringing him closer to climax. "Look at him,"

Max looked at Lando's face stuffed with Charles's massive member, his hand working Lando's cock. He could see the tears streaming down Lando's face from being choked on Charles's thick length. "He looks so pathetic like this,"

“Well, what did you expect? Lando loves to please, it's the one thing he’s good at” Max says, giving Charles a wink.

"Keep stroking, please don't stop," Lando managed to mumble around Charles's cock, his voice muffled and desperate. His body shook, overwhelmed by the dual sensation. His hips bucked against Max's hand, chasing his release while Charles used his mouth. "I'm close..."

Charles grinned, his hips picking up speed as he fucked Lando's face. He could feel his orgasm approaching, his balls tightening as he thought about unleashing his load down Lando's throat. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he growled, his cock swelling even larger in Lando's mouth.

Lando whimpered around Charles's cock, his body tensing as he struggled to hold back his orgasm. Tears streamed down his face, and saliva dripped from his chin as Charles continued to pound into his mouth. Max's skilled hand on his cock was driving him crazy with need.

Charles was getting close, his breathing heavy as he gripped Lando's hair tighter. "Fuck, open wider, little slut," he grunted, hitting the back of Lando's throat. Max's thumb pressed firmly against Lando's slit, pushing him closer to the edge.

Charles thrust deep one last time, his cock pulsing as he released more of his hot load down Lando's throat. " Swallow every fucking drop," he commanded, his hips still jerking against Lando's face. Max's hand worked faster on Lando's cock,

Lando gagged and choked as Charles's thick cum filled his mouth, but he swallowed it all down like a good little slut. As soon as he finished, Max's hand tightened, bringing Lando right to the edge. "Now, cum for us," Max ordered, his voice low and commanding, feeling his release approaching.

With that final command, Lando let out a muffled scream around Charles's cock, his body convulsing as his orgasm ripped through him. Hot semen shot out of his cock, coating Max's hand.

Max brought his hand to Lando’s face, showing him the massive amount of cum that had come out of him. "Look at all this," He chuckled, smearing the sticky mess on Lando's belly.

Lando whimpered, his face flushed with embarrassment as he looked down at the mess on his stomach. He felt so used and degraded, but at the same time, he loved the attention and the way his owners treated him like their personal cumdumpster.