#will has that autistic drip | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Hackers stole 65M passwords from Tumblr in 2013.

#will has that autistic drip

abbyromanoff · 5 months

Text

BREAKING POINT

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x autistic!reader

WORD COUNT: 1811

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, mentions of break ups, happy ending, R has autism, stressful moments, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Nat’s footsteps seemed to be blocked from your ears, your mouths constant quivering being the only of the five senses that could work. You couldn’t stop picking the skin at your nails, causing blood to slowly arise from the flesh. And your fists continued to squeeze the sheets beneath you, but none of this seemed to register through your mind. No, the only recurring thought was the worry, the same worry you had been desperately trying to rid yourself of. After multiple months of therapy, psychiatry, medication, none of it worked. The only person who could help wasn’t you, it was the girl who chose you; your girlfriend.

She was your best friend, your keeper, and your lover. But she wasn’t here, not anymore. The large fight the two of you fell victim to seemed to cause your fall and the astronomical break-up. Nobody saw it coming, you two were a match made in heaven. But that didn’t seem to stop it from happening, and you found yourself desperately trying to fill the hole she left from only a week later. After the separation, Nat found herself arriving in the quinjet as she was forcibly given a mission with her heavy heart. She knew she could do it, but deep down she also knew she couldn’t; it felt like a constant battle between her sensibility and her idiotic nature.

But the entire time there was only one person on her mind: you. Not the enemies, not her teammates, not herself, but you. You always failed to leave her mind, even in times when it was not quite appropriate. She was determined to make it up to you some way or another, she knew she had to be with you again. She was hopeless without you, she didn’t know what to do with herself. But you always seemed to know, and that’s one thing she loved so dearly about you. Now that she was unable to sleep beside you, instead sleeping with the guilt of losing you, she felt lost.

“Y/N?” The voice startled you, your legs instinctively tightening against your chest for protection, your eyes only widening as you saw the woman you wished to see. But you were in her room, with her blankets, and the realization caused you to rush to your feet. You began fixing the bed but felt hands fall to your waist, causing your movements to falter before you quickly picked up from where you were.

“Y/N,” You sighed, and Nat’s frown deepened hearing the crack in your breath. She turned you effortlessly in her hold, her breathing turning ragged as she took in your expression. Your eyes were heavy from the tears and tiredness, your lip was bitten through and had dried drips of blood. Your smile was no longer visible, but she could see deep down how happy you were to be with her, you always failed to hide it.

“Look at me,” When you refused to complete her request, she spoke once more. “Please?” You sniffled before turning to look up at her, your eyes falling anywhere but in line with hers. That wasn’t unusual for you, but she still grew concerned.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling as though weights were holding them down. You brought your head to the side again, but she tilted it back with a warm smile. She couldn’t truly smile seeing your saddened look, but she tried for you.

“I don’t know.” You weakly spoke, tears beginning to return to your drying cheeks as you felt your body growing in size. Your entire being felt so heavy, yet you weren’t. You were a normal, healthy size, but you felt as though you weighed ten tons.

“Do you want to sit down? Yeah, just sit, baby, you’re okay.” The nickname sent shivers down your spine, but you were unable to react, only leaning your head against her arms that found your shoulders.

“You don’t need to talk just yet, just breathe with me.” She drew circles on your skin as you watched her lips, your gaze constantly changing but she continued to praise your willingness to follow her directions. Moments later she was sat next to you, and she could tell you were now calmer than before.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shrugged once again, and she chuckled softly. Her lips pressed onto your forehead, and her hand played with your hair while the other drew shapes across your thigh.

“Is it about us?” You shrugged.

“Is it about someone else?” You shrugged.

“Is it about work?” You shrugged.

“I just- I don’t know how to explain it.” Those were the first real words she heard you speak, and hearing your voice brought more relief than she imagined.

“Well, give it a shot and I can see if I understand.” You looked down at your fidgeting hands, a smile threatening to creep across your face as hers laid on top of yours.

“I had this really good plan, everything was all written down and memorized and I- I would’ve done everything and I would’ve been okay and I wouldn’t even have to spend time thinking about something else because I would be so busy. But then my alarm didn’t go off and I woke up late and I just felt so tired. I wanted to sleep and sleep and sleep but I knew I couldn’t, but I didn’t have any energy to get up! And then I went to grab a bowl and- and the dishes weren’t even done like I asked and my favorite cereal was gone so I didn’t know what to eat because I always eat that. And then I had training but there was this constant like, I don’t know, buzzing sound that was like a bug or something and no one but me could hear it, I felt crazy. And Steve just kept talking and talking and then I just snapped and started yelling at him, but I didn’t mean to! And I just ran out and I came in here because your blankets are really soft and they feel nicer than mine and I like to play with them but I realized I can’t be in your room once you came in and I freaked out, I didn’t know what to do.” You released a deep breath when meeting the end of your rant, your posture failing to land straight as you forced yourself not to sob. You were so close, you could feel your throat beginning to tighten, but you didn’t want to in front of Nat, not now.

“You’re always welcome in here, love.” She paused. “Can I ask you something?” You nodded, finding yourself unable to speak.

“That ‘something else’ you were trying to get your mind off of, what was it?” You continued to show a lack of response, and she could tell you weren’t going to.

“Was it me?” A small nod came from you after what felt like ages of waiting. She sighed, biting her lip and cursing to herself.

“I’m sorry, I- I know it’s not your fault-“

“No, it is. I’m so sorry, love, I’ve been so stressed lately and I didn’t know how to let it out, one thing about the Red Room is that they don’t teach you how to handle things well unless it involves fists. But that’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you or have let it ruin our relationship. I want to work on this, but first I want to take care of you, is that okay?” You agreed hesitantly, and she soon got to work. She knew you were too weak to bathe, so she planned to help you when you were more energized after resting. She led you to lay down on her bed, putting the blankets over you and grabbing a sweatshirt of hers. She helped you put it on before handing you the stuffed animal you loved so dearly. You had it since when you were a child, and it seemed to be your comfort on lonely and sad nights.

“Is it okay if I lay next to you?”

“Yes, please.” She giggled at your politeness and allowed herself to follow her steps. She asked Jarvis to turn down all lights and shades to create a dim room for you, you always loved having that darkness. The light often hurt your eyes and caused headaches, so she did as much as possible to belittle that.

“How about this: tomorrow afternoon, when we finish eating and training and getting in some work, we’ll take some time to help you work on an easier and less stressful schedule, yeah? And maybe we can ask your therapist if she’s willing to see the both of us for a few sessions, so we can work on anything that’s affecting our relationship. And I’ll be with you every step of the way, I promise.” She held out her pinky, causing you to instantly interlace yours with hers. She grinned, and you let your head rest on her shoulder as your arm went across her stomach. The plushie rested between you two as she left a kiss to its soft fur before kissing your lips in a slow, passionate manner.

“I’m sorry I can be a lot, Natty, I don’t mean to be.” Silence followed before the rustling of sheets was heard, causing you to lift your head while she looked down at you.

“You’re never too much for me, you’re just perfect.” You smiled softly in response.

“Nat?” She hummed, signaling for you to continue. “You’re perfect to me, too, you know.” Her lips turned upwards, and she felt her heartbeat rising as a blush ran to her face.

“I’m glad we can agree on that. Now go to bed, and when we wake up we can have a nice bath and maybe do some coloring?” It was more of a question than a statement, but she knew you’d say yes without a question.

“Can we also finish that documentary? Oh, and our puzzle! Or the Legos! And we can make cookies too, but they have to be chocolate chip.” She chuckled meaningfully, and her eyes began to close as her voice grew deeper as the tiredness from her mission began catching up to her.

“We can do whatever you want, sweetheart. Like I said, I’d do anything for you, even if it’s cookies and shows and puzzles and legos and coloring and baths.” She led on, causing your excitement to grow. You left a kiss on her cheek before bringing your body impossibly closer to her. Your warmth made her feel a sense of comfort that no one could describe as anything other than pure love.

“Sleep well, baby bear.”

“Sleep well, momma bear.”

—-

I would like to say before I receive any hate that I personally have autism myself and this is what I personally see as one of my struggles and I thought I’d write it

664 notes · View notes

newtsoda · 1 year

Photo

When school is torture...

A comic about autism and “school avoidance”.

------------------

Commence Alt Text:

[PAGE 1]

Title: 'It's Not School Avoidance – Trauma, Burnout and PTSD in the Education System'. The first panel shows a woman, her face veiled in shadow and surrounded by a thicket of thorns. She looks alien, with pointed ears and cat-like eyes. The second panel shows her drowning, her hand grasping at the air. The next panel shows ghost-like arms twisting around her. The speech bubbles read: When I was a kid, school was the stuff of nightmares. An intense and overwhelming environment, overstimulating and demanding, and entirely unforgiving. It's where I learned to mask and how to lie about all manner of things. I faked so many illnesses just so I could have the break I couldn't ask for. All so that I could somehow stay afloat in a system that did not recognise my needs. Neurotypicals don't understand just how much school is not designed for people who are not like them. Nor do they understand what it's like when you have to return to the place that is hurting you, day after day after day.

[Page 2]

The woman lies with her head on a pillow, staring wide-eyed at the reader. Thorns creep around the edges of the frame. The text reads: It's nearly twenty years later, and I still have the nightmares. Not the same vague dreams about not doing my homework everyone gets, but vivid night terrors that revolve around school and the things it made me feel. I've been told it's a symptom of CPTSD. The second panel shows a dagger with thorns wrapped around it as it is slowly dragged into their midst. The text reads: Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder develops over a series of prolonged traumatic events. A disturbingly high number of autistic adults go on to develop it and can trace the root of their trauma back to the torturous experiences of their school years. So, I guess it's safe to say I'm not alone. But what's worse: It's still happening today.

[Page 3]

A girl is at the centre of the page, tears streaming down her face as scissors cut through her wings. Blood drips down the page. Thorns creep towards her. Another panel shows the woman's back with the shredded remnants of her own cut wings. The text reads: Autistic children are being dragged through a grim education system that does not get their needs, quietly suffering. Parents are denied support if their child makes good grades or is quiet in class, because all is well. But the school doesn't see the tears and fights getting to the gates in the morning. Or the meltdowns/shutdowns as soon as the child gets home. It doesn't matter what's happening to their mental health. That a bubbly, happy child who loved to learn has turned into a despondent, empty shell of their former self. Above all else, school emphasises attendance rates. As long as that child is still showing up every day, it's seen as a success, no matter the cost—and the cost, sadly, is often steep for people like us.

[Page 4]

The girl and the woman are wrapped in a towering mass of thorns. Swords jut from the wounded woman's chest while she looks down at the girl who reaches for a hand trying to rescue her from her plight. The text reads: “Your child just needs to develop more resilience.” An infamous line that keeps rearing its ugly head. It comes from a place of ignorance, from people who have no idea how resilient these young people already are from living in a world not designed for their neurotype. But what can parents do? They're witnessing the damage forced classroom time is doing to their children, seeing it destroy them, but feel powerless to help. Keeping them home for recovery results in fines, warnings, and intimidation tactics. Seeing no other way out, some parents are forced to take their child out of school for good, opting for home schooling instead. They report needing years to repair the damage done to their child's mental health.

[Page 5]

The woman is seen healing the girl's back. Tiny wings sprout where hers were cut. The text reads: Homeschooling can allow parents to slowly build their children back up, coaxing them back to their former selves. But not everybody has the means to homeschool, and while it should always be a choice, it should never be one forced by desperation. The next panel shows the woman's own shredded wings. The final one shows her defending her child. Text: This whole thing is excruciating for autistic parents who experienced it all themselves while growing up and know exactly the damage that is being done, yet find themselves unable to protect their child from suffering the same fate. I want to be a parent one day, but the thought of school already fills me with dread. I want my child to benefit from a well-rounded education without paying the steep mental health price I had to pay. It shouldn't be too much to ask! And yet, I've fully prepared myself for the battles I'll have to fight.

[Page 6]

The page shows the woman twirling the girl around while she holds her hands and the girl flies with her new, full-grown wings. The woman's wings are still shredded, but she smiles knowing that she was able to help her daughter. The text reads: I want to raise the next generation of autistic people unburdened by school trauma or CPTSD. We need more autistic-friendly options, and lockdown and the pandemic showed that it's possible! We need flexible schooling, less classroom time, more opportunities to do schoolwork from home, and low intensity classrooms for children who don't have parents who can support learning from home. Allow for recovery time and stop penalising low attendance rates! We want the education system to recognise the damage it's doing to young people and believe parents when they plead for support. There is more than one way to achieve learning outcomes, and we deserve a system that works for us.

#autism #actually autistic #autism acceptance month #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #school #education #newtsoda #comic #autistic comic takeover

613 notes · View notes

woofwoofwolf · 11 months

Text

REPUTATION

Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Hobie masterlist: [link]

Summary: Hobie Brown has earned a reputation as one of the toughest punks around. As his new girlfriend you dont dare mess with it.

Notes: alt reader but make it pink and pastels, fem! Reader (she/her pronouns), hurt/comfort, reader has an anxiety/ panick attack, Hobie is a little clueless, new relationship, I'm neurodivergent and this is from my experiences in these settings, so can be read as an autistic reader, flip side to that, I've never actually experienced night life so it might be inaccurate,

Might still edit this lol

You tried to make yourself small in the corner of the dark and musty room. It felt as if that somehow made you stand out more. Which… It probably did… You were the only pastel soft looking thing in a sea of edgy spikes and leather, despite your attempt to tone yourself down. You were honored that Hobie had invited you to watch him play following your newly formed relationship. Last weekend, Hobie had dissipated all your insecurities with his soft kisses and raw words, but they were back full force this night.

It was obvious how respected Hobie was in his community from watching the crowd. It was overwhelming, but made sense all the same. Hobie had this amazing talent of accepting people wholeheartedly and, more importantly, knowing WHO to accept. He wouldn’t even want to give you a second of his time if you were any kind of fascist or creep. He made a great judge of character. He did his own thing, denying the leadership or icon role that would be forced upon him, but giving people hope nonetheless.

His music was…. A choice, but it set the people in the venue ablaze. You mostly loved watching him on his guitar, sweat dripping down from his arms and forehead, filling your cheeks and stomach with warmth. His voice grounded you in familiarity, a bright spot engulfed with the crowd of some scary looking people. You were sure they weren’t trying to intimidate you, Hobie had proved to you to not go by that stereotype, but their outfits were often as loud as their personalities. You weren’t much for the binge drinking that was going on and you had tiptoed away from a table of people that looked to be under the influence of something stronger. Other than that not a lot of people had bothered you.

You had come with Valerie, a female acquaintance of Hobie whom he had trusted to look after you. You could see her in the crowd keeping an eye on you, despite having urged her to pay you no mind and to go have fun. She came back to where you were any time some guy did approach you.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” They’d ask, before being shooed away by Valerie…

Oh god.

You were being a total killjoy to these people, weren’t you? It was too embarrassing. If people found out you were here for Hobie, they’d laugh you out of the building.

At that point, Hobie’s set ended. He was brilliant, pure adrenaline radiating off of him. He jumped off the banged up stage, being celebrated and hit on the back by the crowd as he made his way through. His eyes were searching for something, for you. When your eyes met, his lit up, while your gaze plummeted down, feet cemented to the ground.

You felt his large hand on your bicep and you flinched. “Ey, what’s wrong?” He said.

Shit. You didn’t mean to make him upset.

“You not feeling good?”

You shook your head. “You didn’t drink anything suspicious, did you?”

“She didn’t drink anything all night,” came the voice of Valerie. All of a sudden you were aware of all the worried eyes directed your way. You stood out way too much.

“Oh,” He sounded disappointed, it made your stomach turn. “Did you not have fun, darling?”

That was when the full on panic set in. You didn’t want his friends to know you were dating- what would happen to Hobie if they did?

“No, it was okay.” You said in a quick, high pitched voice, big tears beginning to fall down your face without warning. “Please let me go.” You tried to break free from his touch and run away, but he caught you quickly and walked you out of the event room, through the hallways towards one of the exits. You didn’t dare struggle, but couldn’t help squirming under his gentle grip as people stared and whispered. Valerie followed you two. It was a pleasant and unusually quiet night as you stepped out onto the curb

Once you stopped walking the tears flowed freely from your face and you did nothing but hiccup out apologies. Hobie’s warm eyes watched you full with worry. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. I’ll let you go if you want, I just can’t let you leave like this, okay?” He gently rubbed your right arm, leaving you space, but you subconsciously melted into him regardless, which seemed to reassure him just as much as it reassured you.

“Hobie you idiot,” Valerie said. She was leaning against the poster covered event door to make sure nobody would follow you through that exit. “Are you okay, (y/n)?” You nodded with a sob, another apology leaving your mouth.

“What the hell happened?” Hobie asked. “Did some bloke put his hands on you?”

“No,” you croaked. “No, Val kept an eye on me.”

“You shouldn’t have brought her here in the first place, you dumb git,” Val interjected. “This obviously wasn’t her scene.”

“No- that’s not it either, I, ehm,” your eyes darted from the ground to Valerie, feeling self conscious. She dramatically sighed.

“Fine. I get it, I’ll be inside if you need me.” She put her hand on the handle before pointing at you. “But I want to see you before you leave, okay? You were my responsibility tonight and I’m not letting you leave like such a mess.” You nodded, your whole face feeling hot. “And I’m still mad at you,” she said to Hobie before diving back into the building.

When the door shut, you separated from Hobie as he petted your head, moving his thumb down to your cheek, stroking it in an attempt to dry your tears. You closed your eyes and frowned.

“God, I’m so sorry, Hobie..”

Hobie shook his head. “Shit, I’m the one who should be sorry. I was too daft to notice this wasn’t your thing.”

“No!” You took his hand and squeezed it, looking into his deep brown eyes to convey your sincerity. “That’s not it. I loved watching you, you were .. SO breathtaking. I’m so thankful you wanted me here in the first place, seriously… I’m the one who’s problem, really,”

“What are you on about?”

“I- I can’t put your name to shame like this. I’m not- punk, I’m not cool- I totally humiliated you just now, I mean with your reputation-”

He let go of your hands and shook his hands in a dismissive motion. “Woah, woah, stop right there.” He let out a nervous airy laugh. You picked at your nails as he searched for words. “...I could NOT be arsed about something like that, alright?”

“But, people respect you and-”

“Nah-ah, no buts,” He caged you between himself and the wall “If my mates respect me less for who I love, then they’re not worth shit to me- get that through your thick skull,”

You could only sniff in response, still feeling bad about the whole ordeal. You were surprised when Hobie pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and held it there.

“’m sorry I didn’t check with you more if you were cool with being here,” He whispered into your hair. “I was just so excited to have you be watching me… I’ll do better next,”

You laughed. “I’ll do better too. Promise… and It was exciting for me too,” you could feel him grin against your head.

“Well, that sure is convenient for the both of us, innit?” He let you go and you felt your anxiety lifting. “Next time, if you still want to go to a show, let's go to one together, yeah? I won’t leave you on your own.”

You nodded. “And next time I’ll disguise myself and tell people that was your crazy ex.”

Hobie snorted. “Just tell em you were pissed and no one will care. C’mon, let's get Vals permission to leave and then I’ll keep you company tonight, yeah?”

————

Wait how did this turn into an hurt comfort fic? This was supposed to be a fluffy little drabble lol… I’m semi proud of this one ngl,, writing Hobie’s dialogue is HARD AS BALLS though. I tend to write very formal sounding dialogue, so a character like Hobie is difficult for me, even if he weren’t British. Plus I only know like,, old people British slang lmao. Like sure, I can google and stuff, but for example when you google slang for “happy” the word “chuffed” will come up. Like, Brits correct me if I’m wrong, but this mfer would NOT say “chuffed”?? like that sounds so old to me? (Istg if he says it in ATSV or BTSV I’m going to be so mad lol)

On that note- long shot- if someone who’s British would like to go over my dialogue sections and leave some suggestions, I would greatly appreciate it. Message me if you’re interested. Don’t feel pressured though, I love you guys all the same.

I did read this through multiple times, but not as thorough as I sometimes do. Let me know if there are any mistakes.

#hobie brown #spider punk #spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #atsv #hobie brown x y/n #scenario #hobie brown x fem reader #hobie brown x autistic reader

428 notes · View notes

hollyhomburg · 1 year

Text

Before I Leave you (Pt.53)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

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

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

W/c: 10.0k

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

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know I look like shit.”

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

Especially given what happened during Namjoon's Rut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath comes in one stuttering gasp and-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t hate it?”

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

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

“A little- I like these shorts.”

“Then you should take them off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes but also no. It depends.”

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

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

“Squishy? Soft?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck- Jimin-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think you actually might pass out for a second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course, I’d kill for you.

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

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

Afterward, it’s comparatively quiet.

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

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

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

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

~-~

Please like, Comment, and Reblog <3 If you don’t interact with this chapter, I have no way of knowing if people are still reading and enjoying this series! Every comment help me write the next chapter <3

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

656 notes · View notes

demilypyro · 1 year

Text

........ Okay this is almost definitely because I'm autistic but is anyone else annoyed by how aesthetically incongruent the fused weapons in tears of the kingdom are. Like it's never gonna look right. I'm walking around with a stick on my back that has a knife cellotaped to it. The drip is incoherent and weak

429 notes · View notes

bizzybee280yt · 3 months

Text

i played frontiers of pandora and had a category 43259423854 autism moment

i love my ikran. Katir is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. precious pink baby demon dragon. i’ve got her fully dripped to the gills with sarentu heritage stuff, it’s so fucking great. i love her.

so, who becomes Olo’eyktan and Tsahik of the Sarentu? Nor fucked off after killing Alma’s avatar, Teylan’s a whiny little piss boy and Aha’ri is fucking dead. So’lek can’t be leader, he’s not Sarentu. Ri’nela would be better as a Tsahik seeing as she deals with things around the base and offers council, which is like the stepping stones to leading the clan spiritually. That means that… I’d be Olo’eyktan? considering i led the attack at Mercer’s base and hunt very well and got all the upgrades and tarsyu shits, and all the bellsprigs and shit.

If i’d be Olo’eyktan and Ri’nela would be Tsahik, does that mean we become a mated pair? dialogue from one of the npcs in the game shows that homosexuality is a thing among the Na’vi, with one of the riverside uninteractable people (who is a woman) talking about not being able to talk to this one girl she likes (which was so real of her to say)

So, my dumbass (female) and my ultimate girlboss wife (Ri’nela) leading the Sarentu into greatness when we were once a dying clan?? sign me the fuck up yes MA’AM

i’d kill a palulukan for Ri’nela, on god

also i feel like the way the RDA say “Na’vi” feels like a racial slur, like how people say “Arab” incorrectly to use it as a slur. i really like how this game showed how much the RDA were the bad guys, but reminded us all the time that they’re human. they are human people. the same race as me. i can’t hide behind my mask of being Sarentu when reminded that this is what humanity would be like if put on Pandora.

the way Mercer said that the Na’vi things, like Ri’nela’s feathers or the Songcord from the mother, were ‘dirty’ or ‘primitive’ or ‘foolish’ made me have a immense realization that these tactics were used during the assimilation of north americans into society. only this time, the Na’vi were able to escape.

i feel like the story of humans and Na’vi is like that of the native americans, only the Na’vi won back their land when the native americans didn’t. hunting the tulkun and zakru? just like the bison being mass hunted. TAP? boarding schools.

it feels so jarring to remember how badly white people have absolutely fucked over every other race in the ass sideways on the lord’s altar whilst saying “it’s all God’s will”

…

so yeah, i had some fun analyzing and playing this game. symbolism is my autistic special interest

#frontiers of pandora #pandora #avatar #avatar: frontiers of pandora #sarentu #ri’nela #teylan #nor #aha’ri #so’lek #ikran #thanator #palulukan #palulukan means thanator in na’vi

82 notes · View notes

teencopandthesourwolf · 10 months

Text

THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN EVERY EPISODE OF TEEN WOLF EVER

part ii (part i HERE)

coach finstock philosophy being the thing that actually fixes you

a soundtrack that consists of the sort of music that makes you wish you were no longer alive, plus (ironically) the excellent song lose your soul by dead man's bones

jeff davis forgetting character's ages and back stories and sometimes the characters themselves (fuck you forever for kira, jeff, you massive poopy head)

jeff davis forgetting the plot

jeff davis forgetting the fact that nobody likes him

tuning in for sterek and staying for sterek even when jeff davis stops giving the sterek scenes together, and staying for sterek even after one half of sterek leaves, in the hope that the half of sterek who left will one day return so you can keep on watching for sterek even though sterek is not even canon and you know inherently it never will be

brilliantly appalling special FX

meredith having even crazier eyes than the character from the show orange is the new black who has crazy eyes and is actually named crazy eyes

tyler hoechlin hands down having the best spine-tingling-hairs-standing-up-on-the-back-of-your-neck werewolf roar of any werewolf on any film or tv show about werewolves ever FIGHT ME

queer allegory my beloved <3

isaac inexplicably wearing a scarf all-year-round

all the characters bar derek (only bc it's hard to get it wrong with a henley and black jeans which is all he ever wears apart from the one-time crimson thumbhole shirt that was inspired drip) having honestly the worst fucking dress sense

jackson being the angriest most brilliantly hammy antagonist ever with the best facial expressions known to humankind who ends up evolving into the most adorable gayest gay to ever gay living his best life in londonia with his lovely boyfriend ethan where they are now both runway models for jean paul gaultier (who everybody knows is a french werewolf from way back when in the la bête du gévaudan era)

getting the feeling you should be doing absolutely anything else with your time instead of watching these idiots yet being completely addicted to loving this penny and dime clown show more than you love your own nearest and dearest

VOID STILES BEING A 1000 YEAR OLD FOX DEMON THAT MAKES YOU HARD

having the constant need to shake scott vigorously because he is the funko pop! bobble head we all know and are forced to tolerate

chris argent being such a cringe over-the-top-gun-toting-who's-your-daddy-badass that he somehow actually manages to circle back around to being rad af

chris argent being so real and a dilf

none of the characters ever talking about the fact that scott's dad was an abusive arsehole apart from stiles because stiles is a champion amongst men who makes sure to tell scott's dad between scenes that his head looks like a cross between a crescent moon and a foot

every single character on the show knowing that there is not a hint of a shadow of a doubt that derek and stiles are doin the narsty—even the off-camera characters we never get to meet are always congregating on the reg in the grocery store or the coffee shop or the WSWA (We See Werewolves Anonymous) bi-weekly meetings and are all like "you know that furious-looking autistic dude with the spectacular monobrow whose eyes are sometimes definitely way too blue? and the noodly peewee herman MIT ADHD kid with the duct tape jeep whose dad is the sheriff of this fictional town none of us live in? they are definitely fucking omg."

each and every school lesson we see scott and stiles attending actually being a top secret pentagram level mission impossible code for whatever supernatural shit is about to go down in beacon hills that day

outing you as the monsterfucker you really are LMFAO

(find part i HERE)

#teen wolf truthing #the saga continues #show of all time #my beloved <3 #teen wolf #sterek #every teen wolf episode ever part ii #tcats posts #a wolf and his queueman

303 notes · View notes

mlm-writer · 10 months

Text

Filling (Peter Parker x M!Reader)

Pairing: Omega!Peter Parker (TASM ver.) x Alpha!Kryptonian!Cis!Male!Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 1221 POV: Second Summary: Peter is in heat and has the baby fever. As his mate, it is your duty to help him make it through the heat. Note: Merging requests now in the hopes to one day get my inbox empty Tags: omegaverse, no mpreg, mentions of getting pups, breeding, multiple orgasms, knotting, overstimulation, is it spidey sense or is Peter just autistic (both if you ask me), fluffy smut, established relationship, biting/marking and a little aftercare

Peter could hear the moisture being pumped through the wall by the aircon. He felt every breeze of cold air circle through his bedroom. The cold wind played with a receipt on top of the dresser. Each rustle of paper set off his Spidey sense, the instinct telling him there was danger everywhere. There was danger everywhere lurking. He had to protect his pups. He did not have pups (yet). Peter tried making his nest on the bed air tight, but it was no use. Every second made him more antsy than the previous one. That was until the door opened and his boyfriend came running in. The instant waft of fresh alpha pheromones was like a douse of cold water on a hot day.

You had seen through the door how anxious Peter was. His heart was hammering, breathing almost just as rapid. However, it couldn’t be helped. You had run out of water way sooner than you had anticipated and needed more. “I am so sorry, omega, I’m here,” you cooed as you put the two dozen one litre bottles of water by the door, taking a few to scatter them across the room. Peter made a whiny sound from under his pile. He was near-overheating and yet he had nestled himself there. You rushed over to the windows, closed the small gap that had formed between the curtains. When you were sure the light in the room was minimal, you started removing pillows from the top of the pile, until you saw some brown hair peeking out.

As soon as you gave that mess a peck, Peter emerged, pulling at your clothes. You had just worn a zipper hoodie and sweatpants that could be pulled down in one go. The choice of outfit had been deliberate. Peter got you out of your fit without ripping anything and immediately pressed his nose against your scent glands. He inhaled deeply. “I need your babies, alpha,” he demanded, voice trembling with the need that seemed to be soaking his bones. You could smell the slick dripping down his thighs. You knew he could not have your babies due to Kryptonian DNA being incompatible with his mutated DNA, but you indulged in his fantasy; logic was about the last thing your mate needed right now.

“I’ll breed you properly, my sweet omega,” you whispered as you pushed Peter down onto the bed. He smacked the pillows around, until he was lying down comfortably, legs spread wide to invite his alien mate. His scent alone was enough to arouse you, the heat pheromones doing exactly what they were designed for.

When you entered him, Peter found something beyond relief. It was like finding a guiding light in a storm of emotions and needs beyond even his own comprehension. With his focus on your big cock pushing at his walls, he could no longer pay attention to his spidey sense going crazy over every sound in the room and every texture on his skin. With his alpha caging him against the bed, the musky alpha scent blocked out all other scents. The endless stream of sensory input was intercepted and all that his brain needed to process from here on was his strong alpha, his love, his mate. His alpha was going to keep him safe. He was going to give him pups. He wanted - no, needed - it.

Peter could hear his alpha’s cells charged with solar energy from his brief run to get more water. The energy buzzed in his skin and Peter could almost feel the hum on his own skin. The strong Kryptonian lifted him up with ease, holding him close while pounding his greedy, wet hole violently. Peter cried for more, needing all his senses filled with the other man. He needed to feel his alpha and his alpha only. You were the shelter that could protect him and his pups from the hazards of the outside world.

You could see how far away Peter was. He was always like this during his heat, overstimulated to the max and needing you to give him a singular focus. Your Kyptonian powers proved useful in providing you all the information you could want on his vitals. He would need to drink soon, but you knew he would not without having at least one orgasm. So you held him closer, using your super strength to lift him up and put him against the wall, railing him like that until he let out a loud cry and he made a mess. “So good for me, omega. Keep going for me. Come on, again.” Peter wailed as he obeyed your command. You could feel his orgasm dripping down your skin. The scent of his own climaxes mixed with the spice of sex in the air, overwhelmed Peter’s senses. He trashed as his brain was assaulted by the arousing olfactory stimuli. He forced his eyes open, meeting yours as you kept your foreheads pressed together while rearranging his insides.

It was hard to keep yourself from finishing too soon. Peter was scorching around you. His cries were almost deafening, but you did not want it to stop; he was just too ravishing with tears pooling at the corners of his eyes and his mouth open as if he couldn’t believe he was having a third orgasm so soon. You tangled your fingers in his sweaty hair and pulled his head to the side, your teeth sinking into the faded mating scar. Peter cried out and spasmed as the sensations flooded him. Your teeth drew his fourth orgasm out of him. You licked over the red skin, knowing it would bruise later and even looking forward to seeing it.

There was only so much you could do. Eventually even your steel willpower could not keep your knot from swelling up, locking you in as you filled Peter with incredible volume. “Yes, thank you alpha, so full,” Peter sobbed, “I can feel your pups already, alpha.” You groaned and forced Peter’s face into the crook of your neck, making sure his nose was pressed against your scent gland. Peter’s mumbling grew incoherent as you thrusted your knot as much as you could while locked together like this. He babbled on about pups, his body trembling from the overstimulation. Your legs were shaking too, the weight of him was easy to endure, but the tightness gripping at your knot was less so.

You were glad when you felt Peter’s body going slack. He was barely conscious by the time you carried him to the bed, sitting against the headboard with him in your lap. Your knot kept your bodies close together, but you could still reach for one of the water bottles you placed near the bed. After a good few gulps, you pressed the opening of the bottle against Peter’s glistening lips. It took a few bumps, before he realised he needed to drink.

With your help, Peter managed to drink, before slumping back against you. You smiled as you caressed his sweaty back, drinking in his scent and relaxing in the eye of the storm. Later you would have to do this all over again, but for now, all you could hear in the bedroom was the whirring aircon and the heartbeat of the man you loved.

#tasm #peter parker #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel x you #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #mcu fanfiction

360 notes · View notes

steventhusiast · 1 year

Text

more autistic steve with ARFID (avoidant restrictive food intake disorder) because i’m having the worst time i think i’ve ever had in my life and can only cope by projecting :] CW: disordered eating

part 1

—

steve’s pretty sure he’s never hated himself more than he does in this moment.

he’s perched on the edge of the couch, one knee bouncing with anxiety, and in front of him on the coffee table sits a homecooked meal. eddie’s gone through the process of making him a plate of mac and cheese from a box, which is a big deal because eddie is not a great cook. but he still made this for steve.

so there’s this lovely, warm meal sitting in front of steve that he used to love, and all he can do is stare at it. in the background, sounding somewhat fuzzy and muted to his ears as he continues his staring, he can hear eddie singing to himself as he cleans up the kitchen, and the sound of a sitcom laugh track as family ties plays on the tv.

after a minute, eddie comes to sit next to him, and gently puts a hand on his knee to help slow down the bouncing.

“hey, no pressure, okay? you eat what you can.” eddie says as he rubs his thumb back and forth over steve’s knee. the words should feel comforting, but they sit like guilt in steve’s gut.

he desperately wants to eat the food, knows it will make him feel less tired and sustain him more than the junk food he’s been managing recently, but it’s hard. it’s like he can hear boss music in his mind as he picks up a fork and stabs a single piece of macaroni.

he manages to put it in his mouth, counts to 20 as he chews and works himself up to be able to swallow it, and then has to jump up from his seat and pace as he feels it go down his throat. eddie startles a little as he does so, and he shakes his hands out at his sides as he walks back and forth, back and forth in front of the tv.

it feels like cement in his throat, doesn’t feel like it goes all the way down as the sensation of food being in his throat and chest lingers uncomfortably.

“stevie, can you take a breath for me?” eddie tries, but steve shakes his head vehemently and continues his walking. as the seconds go by, his steps get slower and less frantic, and eventually he picks up the fork again, repeats the process.

this is the first time eddie’s really seen him struggle with food properly. steve knows he knew, because they’ve talked about it a lot, but this is the first time eddie’s seeing it. steve’s filled with embarrassment, but he can’t cope with the task of eating without his pacing, without his hands flapping, without fighting back tears and feeling like he’s choking each bite down.

it doesn’t go like this every time. there are safe foods that are easier to get down, and some days where eating feels more like a normal part of his every day. but today? today it feels like he’s been tasked with eating rocks.

“can’t do it.” he whispers out after five pieces of macaroni.

he falls back onto the couch, and eddie’s hand is immediately pulling him into him by the waist so he can try to comfort him. steve’s a little shocked to feel tears on his face as he smushes it against eddie’s shoulder.

“can’t, can’t, can’t…” he whimpers, and eddie’s hand settles on his hip, rubbing gentle circles into him.

“shh, it’s okay. i’m proud of you for trying.”

steve shakes his head against eddie’s shoulder. how pathetic is he, that his boyfriend has to be proud of him for managing to eat five pieces of food from a kids meal?

eventually, he stops hiding his face in eddie’s shoulder, and vacantly watches the tv. tears are still dripping down his face, slow and steady, but now that he’s stopped eating, he feels like he’ll be okay. he just has to give his body an hour and he won’t be able to feel the measly amount he ate sitting like rocks in his stomach.

hopefully, anyway.

part 3

#genuinely not doing v well atm hahaha woo #autistic steve harrington #he means so much to me #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie au #steddie drabble #stranger things #mywriting #cw disordered eating

215 notes · View notes

pretty-boy-baby-girl · 19 days

Text

PLEASE CONSIDER FOR ME:

Half the BAU are hard of hearing after all the explosions they've gotten caught in. Reid, Garcia, Prentiss, and Hotch are all autistic and occasionally go non-verbal. They all know and use ASL frequently. JJ and Garcia are the only two without much hearing loss and often translate what others are saying for their teammates. JJ signs in all her press releases/media appearances. Everyone keeps noise-cancelling headphones, aac books, and a few different things they know are comfort/regulatory items for their teammates in their go bags. The plane is stocked with weighted blankets and sensory friendly snacks at all times. After especially long amd/or hard cases, they all stay at Rossi's house for a few nights and eventually, they all kinda just end up with their own rooms there even if they almost always end up the living room to cuddle. (Rossi pretends to be annoyed but they all know that he actually loves to have them there.) Rossi often comes home to find one or more of his teammates just hanging out in his house even though he could swear that he never gave any of them a key. (They'll often come to his house if they're having a bad day. The most frequent perpetrators of this are Reid and Prentiss. Spencer picks the locks and Emily jimmies her way in through a window. Garcia made a copy of his key the one time he asked her to water his plants while they were away on a case, Morgan kept breaking the door down until Rossi started leaving random doors unlocked for him and a note with which door was unlocked for him that day under a rock by the front door after having to replace said door four times, Hotch does actually have a key that Dave gave him, but more often than not he'll just knock and then wait patiently on the porch swing for Rossi to get home and let him in even though Rossi always insists 'you have a key, Aaron, you know you're more than welcome to use it and just come in', JJ usually calls first and he'll tell her whatever door he'd left unlocked In Case of Morgan, and you may be wondering, why doesn't he just give all of them keys after this happens a few times? And to that I say, what, and deprive them of their fun? Come on.)

When they stay at Rossi's house after a long/hard case, JJ calls Will as soon as they're on the ground and he meets them there with the boys. Hotch calls his sister (or whoever he's got watching Jack) and she'll meet then there with Jack. Rossi cooks them all dinner and once everyone else has gone to bed, he sits in the living room, sipping on a glass of wine (or scotch, depending on the case), and waits. One by one, the others shuffle into the living room.

Reid is usually first, trudging into the room rubbing his eyes (its adorable, but dont tell anyone Rossi thinks that, he has an image to maintain) and he'll curl up impossibly small on the couch next to Rossi and put his head in the older man's lap. Rossi will run his hands through Spencer's hair and hum quietly. Garcia comes next, wrapped in a long, silky robe that billows as she moves because it's dramatic and she loves it, and she'll slip onto the other end of the couch to lay her head on the arm as Reid stretched out just enough to brush the soles of his feet against her thigh. Then comes Morgan quickly after his baby girl and pretty boy have disappeared, and he'll have a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he drags an already inflated air mattress behind him that he drops in front of the couch. Reid drips a hand off the edge to brush against his shoulder and Garcia stretches out her leg until she can nudge his with her toes. Prentiss comes trudging in next with JJ hanging sleepily off her and Will right behind them with the boys on his hips. Will settles with the boys on the love seat and JJ and Prentiss curl up on the floor at his feet. Hotch is next with Jack asleep on his shoulder and he settles into the chair beside Rossi with Jack on his chest. By this time, Rossi has finished his wine and he reaches out to clasp Hotch's hand in his own and they fall asleep like that, surrounded by their family and taking comfort in the fact thay everyone is there.

This got a little bit away from me. Oops.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #david rossi #penelope garcia #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #william lamontagne jr #im not gonna tag the kids bc theyre not really in this and i dont wanna clog their tags #criminal minds headcanons #dean talks #dean's headcanons #uh enjoy ig #sorry for neglecting this blog for like #a year?????? it Will happen again unfortunately

32 notes · View notes

venluming · 7 months

Text

Meltdown (Petrigrof)

Wordcount: 2.05k.

Type: One-Shot, SFW

Warnings: None, really.

Summary: After a long, stressful day, Simon has a meltdown and Betty helps him through it.

Extra Notes: Hello, hello! I’m writing again, yay!! I felt proud enough to post this little one-shot of Petrigrof! I don’t see enough fics that depict Simon as autistic, so I wrote one myself! And… it’s him having a meltdown, haha— but hey, it’s something! This is also based on a personal experience of mine, so there’s that. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

With the gentle pattering of rain against the window and the warm air flowing through the heater in the corner, Betty sank into the covers of her bed, bundled up in her favorite brown, woolen blanket. Beside her was a hot mug of lemon balm tea that she occasionally sips to help her go to sleep.

In her hand, she held a sketchpad with small sketches of random objects around the room, assumingly for an art project, or maybe just as general practice. She had recently begun picking up this hobby again, as she had been so busy with other things, such as her expeditions and research papers for other minor classes she had. Betty enjoyed making pieces for herself, although she very seldom mentions her love for art to others for reasons of… well, no one really cared enough to ask.

Well, all except Simon.

Speaking of Simon…

It’s just about 8 PM right now. It’s pretty dark, and Simon still hasn’t come home from his afternoon class. Betty mused on where he might’ve gone. Perhaps working a bit later than usual, which was a somewhat common occurrence with him. He’s known to be quite the workaholic…

‘I wish he wouldn’t push himself so hard…’ Betty thought, frowning slightly.

No matter, she’ll have to give him a good “scolding” when he arrives home.

…Well, not an actual scolding. He hated getting those, as it always triggered his PDA.

After a bit of time passes, she’s finally finished and decided to put a pin in it for tonight. Her main worry seems to be her lover who still hasn’t arrived yet. What was he doing?

“He’s probably just working a little late, Betty. Nothing to worry about..” Betty mumbled, taking a sip of her tea and letting out a soothing hum. What a wonderful, serene-feeling taste.

Just then, Betty heard the front door slam from downstairs. Betty quickly turns towards the bedroom door and begins to climb out of bed but pauses when heavy footsteps start trudging up the stairs, then stopping momentarily. She waited quietly for any sudden movement when the quiet steps grew louder as they approached the door.

As expected, the door swung wide open, which startled Betty a little. Standing there was a… sopping wet cat who seemed to have, unfortunately, been caught in the storm of the hour. His clothes were drenched in rainwater, dripping onto the floor. His tousled hair cast downward as it stuck to his cheeks and forehead— but he desperately wiped the stray hairs away from his wet face. He looked… terrible —with his vest and shirt slightly unbuttoned to where the collar barely touched his neck, his bow tie clenched tightly in his hand.

Simon stood in the doorway for a moment with his head hung low. It felt like, as soon as he stepped through, he just… fell apart. His hands found his head and he gripped a fistful of dark brown locks, then an exasperated and strangled groan tumbled out of his throat. Betty immediately ran to his side, attempting to touch his face but he jerked back from her, vigorously shaking his head. Betty was a little confused and slightly perturbed at first, but upon observing him more, his body language told her everything she needed to know. The way he trembled in front of her, arms up in a more defensive position like a scared little kitten despite having his hands tangled in his hair. Betty knew what this was.

“Okay, no gentle touching, alright.. uhm ,” Betty made her way to one of the lamps in her room and turned it off. “Here, I’ll turn off some of the lights for you, okay?”

Simon nodded, running a hand through his soggy locks. Glob, he was so glad to be home, home to his lover. She always knew what to do when he had these moments. Moments where his body shut down and wouldn’t cooperate with him no matter how hard he tried. Moments where every single article of clothing on his body felt like sandpaper scraping against his skin. How much it hurt to utter a single word. No matter how much he might’ve wanted to, it felt like walking barefoot on pins and needles while everyone else but him came prepared with steel-toe boots.

Simon’s wet clothes clung to his shivering body. He hated the feeling of wet clothes, he hated it. He desperately peeled the clothes off his body and they hit the floor with a gentle ‘thump ’. Betty scrounges around in the closet for his favorite blanket while glancing back at her lover every few minutes. She could feel him trembling from afar, even as warm air encircled him, and in those moments, she wished that she’d been there when this first started so she could have helped him through it.

“Okay, let’s get you wrapped up,” Betty pulls out the navy blue blanket and scurries over to him. He seemed to have already stripped himself of his clothes, to which she wrapped the soft blanket around his shivering body and led him to their bed. “I’ll get you some water… do you want some water?”

Wiping his tear-stained face, Simon nods and tries to bask in the warmth of his blanket and the heat from the heater, now that he laid closer to it. Betty opens the door and glances back at Simon with a gentle smile before closing the door and running down the stairs.

Not long after, Betty comes back with the water and places it on his bed stand. He seemed to have dove under the covers again with only his head poking out from his blanket. Betty chuckles, climbing over to the other side of the bed and laying beside him. Upon observing him closer, his scleras were bloodshot red, like he’d been crying for a while. Simon scooted closer and stared into her eyes for a moment before looking at the sketch pad in the space between them. Betty slowly turned to the book and picked it up, placing the pad in his lap. She figured he might want to say something without straining his voice since he’d gone non-verbal.

Simon’s hand snakes out from beneath the covers and he takes the pencil attached to the pad then flips to a blank page. Betty watches him curiously as he begins to write something down in a slow, gradual manner, his face softening the more he writes. He flipped the page over and she couldn’t help it when the corners of her mouth rose to her cheeks.

“Thank you, I love you”

Betty resisted the urge to take him into her arms and pepper his face with kisses. Alternatively, she takes his free hand and squeezes it firmly.

“I love you too, Simon.”

Simon flips the pad back around and begins scribbling something else.

“I need more pressure”

Realizing what he meant, Betty nods and begins climbing on top of him, aligning the side of her face with his own, and dropping most of her body weight onto him.

“Howzzat? That enough for you? Twice for no, once for yes.

Simon taps her once and she smiles against his face. She looks to him for permission, which he does give, then proceeds to wrap her arms around him and give him a firm squeeze. A small giggle escaped his lips as Betty held him in her arms.

After a while, Betty found herself growing more drowsy by the hour. Really, she had only been rambling to Simon about her day and other miscellaneous things. Only after a few minutes of talking did she hear the gentle snoring of the man who’d curled up beside her with the slow rise and fall of his chest. She thought that now it might be a good note to end off for tonight.

Leaning over the sleeping man, she pulls the cord to their dimmed lamp light then snuggles up against him. With a soft glittering of her eyes, she drifts into a soundless, serene sleep.

────────────────────

“Mmhh… five more… minutes…”

A chuckle escaped the man’s lips as he shook his lover once more. Betty stirred but her eyes stayed shut. After a few more gentle shakes, Betty groaned, rubbing her eyes before sitting up slightly and opening her groggy eyes to look at him. She sighs and gives him a tired smile.

“Ah, morning… how’d you sleep?”

Simon pressed his lips against her forehead. “I slept alright, you?”

Betty’s smile only grew when she heard his voice. Ever since last night, he’d been quiet as a church mouse, so hearing his voice again, it quelled that lingering anxiety she didn’t realize she had inside.

“Heyyy, you’re talking again! And I slept alright myself. I’m assuming you’re feeling better after your meltdown last night…”

“Indeed,” Simon lays against the bed frame, his bare chest exposed to the warmth of their room. “Thank you, again… last night was really… stressful— for me. I—uhm… glob, I was suppressing that for a while…”

Betty pouts, gently jabbing him in his side. “You dumb-dumb, why did you suppress it? You know that’s not good and… you can step out of class, you don’t need to prioritize your work if your nervous system is donking out!”

“Ahm— I was doing another presentation, and a lot of smaller things kept building up… and before I knew it, it almost happened— in the middle of it. That same guy threw another… book at me today. Starting to reconsider this whole thing, honestly…”

Betty huffed. “Again?? Who was it, was it the same guy? I should really teach that guy a lesson—“

“No, no… it’s okay,” Simon waved his hands. “You don’t… it’s fine. Please don’t.”

“No, because what’s this guy’s fascination with throwing shit at you??”

Simon shrugs. “No idea, but it’s fine. I’ll manage.”

“Simon…”

“I promise it’s fine, dear. If it’ll make you feel better, the next time it happens, I’ll give them a lecture on presentation etiquette, how does that sound?”

That was mostly a joke.

“You sound like you want a book to be thrown at you.”

Simon chuckles, scratching his nape. “Alright, bad joke.”

Betty chuckles right along with him until they’re both laughing at his really stupid lecture joke. The laughter soon died down though as the two climbed out of bed, raising their arms to stretch.

It only took Simon a few seconds to realize he wore only his underwear, which he remembered was a result of yesterday where his damp clothes lay bundled still near the doorway, so he made his way towards the closet to search for his spare PJs he’d leave here in her room.

Betty, being her usual self, stares lovingly at his backside, especially towards the lower region. She folds her arms and smirks to herself.

“Hey, are you working on your glutes?”

Simon blinks, trying to process what she just said. He slowly turns around, perplexed. “What?”

“Like… glute exercises.”

It took him a minute, but it finally clicked and his cheeks began to burn at the question. He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, haha . Ass joke, funny. I don’t… workout, that’s just how it naturally looks.”

“That just makes it better!”

“Betty.”

Betty giggles, embracing him from behind and nuzzling into his cheek. “Okay, okay… I get it, too early…”

He huffs. “Way too early…”

“Apologieees— I’ll go make us some breakfast while you change . What’re you in the mood for?”

Simon finally finds his blue and white-striped pajamas. He slips on and buttons the shirt and then the pants. “Pancakes.”

“Cool, cool!”

As Betty quickly exited the room, Simon stood beside the closet, pondering over the events of last night. How fast she was able to catch onto his symptoms, how loving and caring she was during the ordeal, how safe he felt when he finally let himself break down in front of her, which he hadn’t done in a while.

His lips curled into a warmer smile, feeling content.

He’s really happy to be with such an amazing person. He wouldn’t trade her for anything else in the world.

“I should help her with breakfast…” He finally said, closing the closet door and making his way downstairs to his soon-to-be wife.