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ctrlhope · 6 months ago

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The Pitfalls of Silk (m)

synopsis: The winter gods are out to get you. That could be the only possible explanation for the series of bad luck tumbling before you— tropical vacation cancelled, snow locking you inside. Hell, even your shovel broken in half has got to be the gods playing some sort of trick on you. Pulling you along, making decisions for you as they guide you along the red string of fate. Guide you towards the very spider that found his way into your basement. Allowing him to fall into your heart all the same. -> apart of the rest, relax, reserve series

p.jimin x f.reader

⋆𐙚┊: wc: 20.0k

⋆𐙚┊: genre: hybrid au, soft yandere, soulmate au, romance, fluff, smut, v light angst

⋆𐙚┊: content: spider hybrid!jimin (cobalt blue tarantula), human!reader, soft yandere jimin, dom!jimin, power imbalances, blood, blood kink, injury, mates / mating, stupid misunderstandings, reader is rlly bad at feelings, heat/rut cycles, jealousy, biting/marking, jimin has fangs, brat taming, light subspace, bondage, fingering, breeding / breeding kink, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of venom, honestly rlly soft- jimin is just a little off his rocker, so many mentions of the word silk, jimin is soft for reader but also a little perverted freak <\3

⋆𐙚┊: notes: AHHH it’s finally here!!! I’ve had such a bad crush on spider jimin for such a long time. Creating his character over the years in my head— how exactly this type of hybrid would function was so fun for me. This fic (& the others that follow) has been spurred on by my special interest in arthropods so I hope you end up loving this jimin as much as I do <33 mwah I kiss u guys

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The weather has grown cold, too harsh for anyone to live outside— survive. Burly temperatures tumbling through the air in icicles, the entire world painted in white.

While the city was still busy, your quaint neighbourhood had gone completely quiet. Everyone huddled inside, trying to keep warm while they sipped on cocoa. The worst blizzard in generations deciding to tumble through on the exact weekend you were meant to go out of town. Meant to be enjoying a tropical beach with the best of your friends!

But nooo, all of the planes had to stay grounded and you had to be stuck in your house with nothing but chilly embers decorating your fireplace.

You were pissed about it all, to say the least. Annoyed that your vacation had to be cancelled, annoyed at the fact you couldn’t stay warm in the slightest, annoyed that you had to be shovelling snow out of your driveway right now.

Well, attempting to shovel snow would be a better way to put it. In theory it seemed like the right thing to do– try and get your car out just in case, start to clear a path for when you’d finally be able to greet the outside world, triumph over whatever winter gods are trying to keep you locked in your home.

In reality, you could hardly move– three layers of pants, two coats keeping all of your joints locked down. God, and the snow. It was coming down way too hard, piling up faster than you could brush it away. Hurting your cheeks with the freezing temperatures, making your bones throb with want to go back inside.

It is safe to say that you did not succeed. That was an easy enough conclusion to come to with the two halves of your snow shovel in your hands. Eyes staring blankly at the object with utter… you don’t even know the word.

Cheeks flushed red with cold, head lifting to the sky as you blink. What the fuck! How shitty can your shovel be! What the fuck is wrong with the snow!

Okay, maybe you did buy it at the dollar store. But that isn’t the point! Where has quality gone in our nation! Caring about the consumer! Yeah, that was never there to begin with! But still! You like to think that there's a point in that somewhere!

The snow falling on your skin feels like the sky is laughing at you, mocking you. It probably is. Cancelling your trip, forcing you to stay at home into the lonely confines of your small neighbourhood.

Yeah, the world is out to get you, you’ve decided it.

A grumble leaves your throat in annoyance, quiet cusses leaving your lips as your legs try to waddle themselves inside. Layers of clothing restricting every movement you make, joints feeling stiff and bones feeling cold. You are no more than a penguin, are you?

“Stupid fuckin’ shovel, stupid fuckin’ snow…” You huff, slamming the thick oak door behind you. Hoping, in a way, that you could pretend none of the frost was there in the first place.

It’s not that you hate snow– of course not. You don’t like to hate much of anything. But when it’s this deep, this thick, you can’t help the sour mood you fall into. Can’t help the sickly feeling in your gut that it has somehow wronged you simply for existing.

Whatever, not that it matters much. You aren’t mother nature. You can’t change it or your now cancelled– most likely non-refundable plans.

What you can change? A nice warm pizza in your tummy.

You hum to yourself, tapping off your boots before ridding yourself of them entirely. Soon follows your jackets, puddles of water quickly forming on the floor where it falls. Snow melting much too fast now that it is in the warmth of your home.

You stare at it in spite, another way mother nature has wronged you today.

You know what? No, not your problem right now. That is a problem for you later today! The wood would be fine. And if it isn’t?

…

You groan, throwing your head back as you move to the bathroom. The battle of opposing forces inside of your head has won again– being responsible, doing the right thing.

Your hand snatches a towel, “Stupid shovel… stupid snow…” You huff, kneeling on the ground to wipe away the liquid that pooled.

You hang the towel back in the bathroom for it to dry before finally making your way to the kitchen. To finally make the frozen pizza you want– no deserve! Yeah, you’ve had a hard day today, being an adult is too hard sometimes. You deserve a little treat don't you?

Feet scuffling against the floor, fluffy socks dragging along the surface allowing you to quickly slip against the tiled floor. Your hips sway, a quiet hum leaving your lips as your hands move diligently, efficiently. Placing the pizza in the oven, setting the timer, flipping the switch on on the kettle.

Everything happens with practised ease. With movements that leave no room for error. Careful, efficient, the way your parents always taught you. The right way.

If you do everything correctly, things will never go wrong. You’ll never have to worry. When everything is in your control, everything is perfect and content.

It’s too bad the right way never accounts for things out of your control. When the world causes you to tense and get annoyed– when it doesn’t behave the way it's supposed to, like you want it to. Just like stupid shovels and a winter storm no one predicted.

But hey, at least you still have power. Your backup generator is there if you need it. Can still watch your dramas and eat warm food. Keep yourself sane while the insane persits just outside of your door.

Lonely, lonely, lonely winter storm~ whatever shall you do~

Your head begins to sing to itself while you wait. Maybe you already were going insa–

Bang.

What the fuck was that?

Your eyes instantly dart to the basement door wide with fear– the source of the sound.

A crash, a quiet cry, a scurry all sound in quick succession. Too loud to miss. Too loud to ignore. Too distinct to place on anything else.

You know winter noises. The crash of shutters against the window, the influx of snow on glass. The beating of hail against the roof or the creaking of pipes chilled from the cold. The noises you just heard? None of the above. They couldn’t possibly be. They weren’t. They were too… too…

Human.

Shit, shit. Is someone in your basement?! Oh god, oh fuck.

The room, it freezes over.

Your pulse starts to race– hairs raise, stand on end. Breath filtering through your nose as you start to panic. Fingers grip the countertop as you try to ground yourself. Try to figure out a way to escape this.

If horror movies have taught you anything– it’s how to run. Grab everything you can, high tail it out before you become victim to the unknown lurking just below the surface of your floorboards. Before you can be possessed or worse, chased down by some mass murdering clown.

That would be the smart thing to do– the wise thing. To get out of your house as quickly as possible, call the police to investigate it for you before you have to become the ‘final girl’ of a movie franchise of your own.

But the storm, the storm would never allow for the right thing.

The police would never make it in time, the roads far too hazardous to truly reach you. If they did, you would already have frostbite from the cold outside by the time they made it. You might be worse off than before–

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The reasoning formulated in your head as you grab a broom from the closet, slowly make your way to the basement door. Completely ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut, the one that tells you that you actually want to travel down the stairs. A string tugging you along a path predetermined, forcing you to forego anything you had thought before.

No, your line of reasoning had to be the object pulling you down those stairs, creaking with every slow, nagging step that you take. It could never be curiosity, a want to understand the unknown guide leading you astray from the dirt road you’ve taken time and time again.

The right road that would lead to the right solution is all but forgotten in this moment. Only adrenaline spurring you on, fingers clenching and unclenching around the broom handle in your grip. Fingers tied so tight around the metal that your knuckles may as well be white.

You're terrified– scared out of your mind. The only noise passing through the drums of your ears is your own pulse, the accelerated beat of your heart as you try to clear the fog that dances over your brain. Fear must be clouding your judgement, making you follow it blindly into the light; well, dark.

Your breath leaps from your chest in short pants, eyes haphazardly harding around your form as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Something is keeping your legs moving when all your brain wants to do is turn back and run. Call the authorities like you should be doing instead of risking everything to satiate the incessant need pulling at the back of your skull. Acting on instincts alone, allowing the string of fate to tug you around the corner. The urge to investigate is stronger than anything you had ever felt before. Anything you’ve ever wanted to feel before.

He sees you before you see him.

“P-please..” The quiet, almost non-existent voice sends a chill down your spine. One you were not expecting in the slightest.

Terrified, panicked. Shaking like a leaf, eyes welled with tears. It’s almost like he knew you were coming down all along, just… didn’t know what to do about it. Too scared to move, too scared to hide. Too scared to do anything but sit there and wait.

Just as petrified as you.

Nothing about the scene before you is making much sense at all. Not to you, at least. Why is he so scared? Why is he in your home? Why isn’t he doing anything but sitting there with pleading, helpless eyes? You try to take everything in, try to fit the pieces of the picture together.

Basement window opened slightly, just enough to allow the man— was he a man? To climb inside. Pretty blonde hair completely dishevelled on his head, grime coating what you know would be such pretty locks. Eyes with double pupils brimmed with tears threatening to spill at any second. Pink plush lips quivering with worry, fangs biting into them so hard you fear they may bleed. No, they are bleeding.

He is definitely not a man. Nor is he a beast. An intoxicating swirl of the two combined into a species of hybrid you’ve never seen before.

The first thought in your head is one it shouldn’t be. One that makes your heart stop for entirely different reasons than before. Makes you drop the broom in your hands, allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. Defences dropped completely in the face of the stranger before you.

He only flinches at the noise, blood covered hands reaching in panic to cover his all too sensitive ears.

Any worries have left you– something seeded deep within your soul tells you he isn’t a threat in the slightest. Not to you, at least. Never to you. Maybe it is the same string as before pulling you along. Pulling you to what destiny has provided.

He is absolutely gorgeous. Even with the grime and his pale complexion from the cold you can tell that easily. He might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you find lost in yourself what to do about it.

What is anyone meant to do when a drop dead gorgeous hybrid enters their home in the middle of a blizzard? Just as scared as you were moments before? Looking like he might freeze to death if you don’t–

Holy shit he must be frozen solid.

It’s only then that you come to your senses, your eyes racking over him once more as you take in all of him for more than just the beauty he brings.

His clothes are thin– far too thin for this weather at least. Tattered on the edges, few stains spotting the fabric, though its clear effort was spent trying to get them out. Your mind wants to wonder why he would worry about that, worry about making himself appear presentable, but raking your vision down you know there is no time for it. Not with the blood on his palms or the red of his flesh.

Your body moves quicker than your brain can think, crouching down in front of him. Noticing the way he flinches once more, the fear in his eyes more palpable, hurting worse than a gunshot wound.

The constriction of your chest is dumb, or at least it should be. Feels almost benign, unfounded. You just met him, you're scaring him, but for an unexplainable reason you wish you could take all of his worry away just for that moment. Make him feel a little better, a little warm. A little safe.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” Your voice mumbles, trying to soothe him or yourself, you’re not entirely sure.

“I-I’m sorry… pl-please don’t.. It’s just so cold… Please…” He begs, though neither of you are sure what for. Not to hurt him, not to send him back outside. All you know is the tears that now flow from his eyes, cresting along his cheeks, dripping to the floor.

“Not going anywhere…” You hope your voice sounds stronger than you feel, hope he can’t hear the way the strings of your heart break, hope he hears how much you care in your tone all along, “Trust me a little okay…?”

You know your words mean nothing, that it might have been an impossible task for him to do so. But you had to try. Had to hope.

It should be hard for you to trust him too, it should be hard to rectify your fear in the face of the one who had caused it. It isn’t the right thing– none of this is the right thing, but it all just comes too easily. Compassion, caring takes over the anxiety too easily. Too brilliantly to do anything else other than care for this hybrid that has wound up at your door.

He was just a scared hybrid doing whatever he needed to to survive. Terrified out of his mind that he would freeze or starve out there– probably had no burrow or… you’re not sure, honestly, what his home might be like. But no home nevertheless. You could never just send another person out there to die.

He stiffens as you reach out for him, gently take his hands in your own. They feel like ice, frozen solid. You don't want to acknowledge what could have happened to them if he was out there any longer.

Without thinking you raise them to your lips, blowing on them as best you can. Trying to do anything to get the blood flowing again before you take him upstairs. Warm him up properly. Make him feel like more than a snowman once again.

You don’t notice the way his form completely loses all stress as you touch him for the first time, speak to him the first time. He feels transfixed on your voice– it had to be too sweet to be real. But you were too focused on your mission. Too focused on making sure the man who has broken into your home is okay to notice the way his lips part slightly at your tone.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches, the way all of his hair stands on edge as a current runs through his body, breathing life into every pore he possesses. Nor the way his eyes widen, losing their will to cry as he stares at you.

Don’t notice the recognition on his face.

You don’t notice a lot of things he does that day. Too focused on getting him into a warm shower– one he was very confused by, you might add. Too focused on getting a warm meal in his belly. Too focused on getting him in nice, clean clothes. A set that will properly keep him warm.

You could worry about other things later. But this felt right. This felt like something you were always meant to do. Or maybe that was just the size of your heart talking– you could never be too sure. But you liked to think it was the former. Liked to hope that Jimin, who you later learned was a spider hybrid, was always meant to come tumbling through your window, into your life for good.

The days that follow are easy– falling into a rhythm with him, taking care of him is just too simple. As basic as breathing, maybe.

Though, it hasn’t exactly been hard with how much he sleeps. How deep he’s nestled in your bed, blankets piled on top of him to drown out any chills that may attempt to slip into his bones. It’s almost like hibernation– if you could describe it. Re-building his energy, making himself feel strong again before he faces the world.

You can’t blame him, honestly. Not after everything he’s been through. Only god knows how long he had been out there. How long he had to brave the snowstorm, the cold weather that previewed it as well. You would probably do the same thing. Hide yourself from everything that hurt you.

Most days you wish you could be doing the exact same thing as him. Hide under a pile of blankets and forget the rest of the world exists. But the voice of your parents would always nag you out of it, force you to be human with the rest of society because it's the right thing.

You humph, gently placing a plate of food on the bedside table. Let him occupy your room for as long as he needs, preparing meals for him even though he never touches a bit of it. It’s the least you can do with his condition.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to stop someone's pain so badly. You hope you can by just doing small things like this. You sigh, heading for the door once again. Another day on the couch.

“Human…?” His voice is quiet, almost non-existent as he calls for you. Cracking slightly, the first time he's spoken in days.

You quickly turn to face him and almost want to fall to your knees at the sight. Fluffy blonde hair peeking from just below the covers, doll eyes peering at you while the rest of him stays hidden beneath the surface. Does he know how destructive he is?

Wait, no. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. He’s letting his defences down, actually talking to you. Stop it.

“Hmm?” You gently call back, glued to your spot in the doorway. You don’t know what he would do if you moved, how startled he may be because of it. You want to talk to him– to find answers.

“What time is it…?” He slowly asks, pacing his question. You notice a slight lisp behind his words– how much of an effort he puts to cover it up.

“Mmm.. about 1? I made myself some lunch so I was just stopping by.” You explain, trying to justify your presence in the room.

“Oh.” He looks beneath the blankets, eyes darting around the room, “Okay. Thank you.”

It seems neither of you are great conversationalists, awkward air passing between the space left between your bodies. You don’t blame him. You don’t know what you would be thinking, feeling if you were in the same place as him. If you didn’t really know what your fate was going to be.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, playing with your fingers to distract from the nerves that you feel. As much as you want to jump, pin him down and ask every single thing your heart begs for, you know that isn't the right thing to do. You know you should be slow, careful with this. At least, that's what the articles online have told you.

“Better…” His voice comes out smoother this time, finally coming out of sleep as he sits up in the bed. Gently taking the plate into his lap, scrunching his nose. “It’s not cold in here like out there.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself. He seems so relaxed, so at ease. Not scared in the slightest of you or what you may do. You forget all about the fact that you should probably be scared of him too.

“Not really,” You smile gently, eyes glancing at the window as he starts to eat, “I was really worried about you, scared me bad.”

You don’t see the flush that covers his cheeks.

“I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to… your window was the first one I could get through and I knew I couldn’t take the storm anymore so I–”

“Hey, It’s fine.” You turn your attention back to him, “I’m just glad you’re okay, yeah? It must’ve been terrifying out there.”

“It was.” He doesn’t hesitate in answering in the slightest, eyes serious as they focus on you. They’re beautiful, really. His eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head, “Not your fault human, I left the reserve. My fault.” He tells you in earnest, wanting you to believe it with every piece of your soul that you could never do anything to hurt him, “Come sit?”

The question is quiet, but you oblige nonetheless. Legs moving you slowly, perching at the end of the bed to face him. Kicking your legs slightly as you stare at the pattern of your sweats.

“The reserve?” You ask, turning slightly to face him. His face is suddenly smiling, nodding at your question. He must like the place a lot, see it as home for him to become so excited.

“Yeah! Where I live,” He explains, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as he speaks, “They say humans can't hurt you there, you get to hunt like in the wild too.”

He hums, content in talking about the one place he has ever found comfort in, found friends in. You can’t help but smile as he speaks, too.

“Yeah? It sounds really nice.” He’s nodding his head once again, as quickly as he can.

“There are lots of other arthropods to play with there. Lot’s of food. Sometimes the humans that visit will give you some too, but they’re normally scared of me.” He suddenly looks serious, eyes coming to meet yours once again, “You’re not scared of me, right?”

You jerk your head back, brows furrowing together in confusion. How could someone be scared of someone like Jimin? You’ve only known him for a matter of days and you doubt that you could ever be.

“Of course not.” You tell him, gently reaching a hand over to place on his knee. He doesn’t flinch away like you expect him to. “You just needed some help, we all need help sometimes.”

He smiles, the serious demeanour retracting from his face in an instant. Back to smiling down at his food happily. The silence doesn’t feel as awkward anymore, at least you don't think it does. It makes you happy, stretching on as he continues to eat like a man starved. He probably is, days of not eating and only sleeping.

“Why did you leave it?” You tilt your head, staring out the window once more. Few snowflakes trickle against the blue sky, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I figure if we’re going to be together through the storm–”

“You’re not gonna kick me out?” His face is awestruck, fork dropping to the plate in surprise. What is he talking about? Kick him out? In this weather?

You quickly shake your head, hand slowly pulling itself back from your knee. He whines in protest, quickly trying to force himself back under your heat. The touch of your hand warmed him up more than anything else in this room– more than the blankets, more than the heater or the warm towels.

His hand tangles itself with your own, pulls you back to his covered knee. Keeps your hand in place with his own while he uses the other to eat. Good. This is better. He likes it when you touch him. The way your small hand feels wrapped in his own.

Makes the tips of his fingers tingle, warmth spread throughout his skin. This is right. This is good.

“Why would I kick you out?” You ask in disbelief, either unnoticing or uncaring to the way he holds your hand– he’s unsure. Not that it matters much! “It’s too cold for anyone out there. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

He smiles, the pit of his stomach only warming more at your words, “Good.”

“We have to wait for the snow to melt to drive you ba–” He cuts you off once again, not wanting to think about going back. At least not without you.

“My friend Taehyung leaves a lot,” He begins to explain, fingers squeezing your own as his palm lays heavy against the back of your hand, “He always talks about how fun it is. All the cool things he gets to see, you know?”

He places his plate to the side while he talks, licking one of his fangs gently. You don’t want to think about how handsome he looks while he does such an action.

“So I wanted to try it out, but we’re not really supposed to leave, you know? ‘Cause then we’re not protected.” You nod along, “And I don’t really have wings to fly out so… I had to wait until they weren’t really paying attention.”

“And that just happened to line up right before the snowstorm was supposed to hit.” You finish for him and he nods, looking down at his lap, “That has gotta be such shitty luck, Jimin. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, you just wanted to go out and experience new things and you almost ended up dead.” You frown at him, trying to get the man to understand the gravity of what may have happened. He simply shakes his head, plush lips tilted into a small smile just for you.

“I said it’s okay.” He tries to make you believe it, leaning closer. Feeling nothing like the stranger he was only days before. “I got to meet you, so it was all worth it.”

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Jimin has a mate that he’s going to be with someday. Someone he’s going to fall in love with. Someone he’s meant to be with, be happy with for the rest of his life. Someone that isn’t you. You really need to accept that and move on from this stupid fucking crush you’ve developed. One that will amount to nothing but heartbreak.

All hybrids have them– Jimin is not excluded from that. You know it’s true. Know it’s so true that you can hardly breathe but he just makes it so easy, too fucking easy to fall for him.

He takes care of the house, cleans it for you whenever there is a mess. Does the dishes after dinner. Takes out the trash. Tells the spiders in the yard not to mess with you– okay, you’re not entirely sure he does that last one. But he is adamant he can speak to them, and who are you to rain on his little spidey parade.

As the seasons change and the months pass, he only makes it easier and easier. Fitting into your life like he was the only piece missing. Filling in all of the bits and pieces you never knew you needed, wrapping silk around your heart and pulling it tight before you could ever think about letting him go.

Even as the months heat and his deep blue roots grow out from his bleached hair, he has no desire to the place he once called home. The reserve quickly pushed aside every time you try to bring it up. Saying he likes it better here, that this is now his home.

To be honest, nothing makes you more happy. Nothing in the world could possibly make you feel better than Jimin. His little webs he places in the corners, the soft way he clings to you when he becomes needy, the way he likes to show you any bugs he catches before he eats them. You’re not sure you could continue in your life without it.

Yet still, still. You’re not sure if this is right. The right thing, the right way to go about it all.

You often fear that you’re keeping him from what he really wants, if he actually wants to go back but feels indebted to you in some way. If that’s the only reason he actually sticks around.

You worry you’re being selfish in that regard. And then once again you find yourself spiralling into the void of questions you could never have answered. Feelings that will always be unaccounted for because Jimin has a mate.

Or at least, will have one. Someday. And you’re not sure if you could handle that day coming. Not in the warm heat of spring, flowers blooming alongside feelings for an arachnid that has entered your life.

One that has no intention of leaving your side anytime soon, if he has anything to say about it.

But nothing, nothing in the world could prepare you for this. What could prepare the thrum of your heart or the butterflies in your tummy? You never expected him to hold you this close, keep your body pressed against his own in the small space of the coat closet. Keep his face tucked away in your neck, whining in pain at something you could never think to discern.

So quickly you were pulled away, without a second to waste you were dragged onto his lap. One second kicking off your shoes, covered in mud from gardening, the next a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the dark confines. Only Jimin there to cover up your scream, lips delicately pressed to your ear uttering a quiet please. Voiced laced with a whine so pained you couldn’t help but join him without a second to spare.

A thought to think– a debate on whether this is right to do or not, for yourself and your own heart.

“Min? Min, what’s wrong?” It’s the only thing you can think to ask, pulling him away from your neck, making his head face your own. Hands gently cupping either cheek as your eyes attempt to make out the features of his face.

It’s too dark, you can’t see anything. The only answer he gives is in the form of a pained groan, not even his eyes reaching you through the darkness. You start to panic, feel the nerves along your spine light up in trepidation.

He’s hurt. He has to be. What happened? Is he okay? He’s never acted like this before. Not with you. Never before has he seemed so hurt, so dishevelled save for the night you first met him.

Just before this the two of you were gardening, mid-morning sun shining bright overhead. A light breeze passing through the trees keeping the two of you cool. That was it! He only went inside a few minutes before you, a few minutes alone and he was already hurt this bad.

Oh god, you never want him to hurt. To be in pain. It hurts your heart just as bad as it hurts him, if not worse.

You’ve fallen a lot farther than you thought.

“Min, let me just turn on the lights okay? Let me see what’s wrong.” You try to coax him, try to kneel from his lap to reach the string above you. Panic flooding through you as he keeps you snug, keeps you from helping him.

You stop your struggle, veins running cold as he lets out a sharp, violent hiss. A sound he’s never made before, never dare uttered towards you– around you in general. It leaves you nervous, scared for entirely different reasons than before.

But one thing is clear from the way his fingers dig into the skin of your wrist almost painfully. The same wrist that was reaching for the string. He doesn’t want you to turn on the light.

“Okay…okay I won’t…” You tell the arachnid, slowly lowering yourself back onto his lap. Letting go of the struggle, letting go of the resistance. It isn’t what he needs right now, isn’t what he wants.

His grip loosens, arms returning to their place around your waist. Holding you close. Keeping you in his arms. His face nuzzles back into your neck, inhaling deeply with every breath he takes. Smelling you. Imprinting the memory of it in his brain.

“What if I use my flashlight…? Would that be okay?” Once again, the response is a much short, quieter hiss. A lot less defensive, angry than the first. Just a sign of dismissal.

“Okay…” You say quietly, bringing one arm behind him to gently run through his hair. Scratching his scalp in a way that always has him preening, “Can you please tell me what's wrong? So I can help…? Please…”

Your voice is quiet, almost a beg as you ask him. He squeezes your body tighter in response. Would’ve basked in the tone you gave him if not for the pounding behind his eyelids. Still, he knows if he’s going to get you to stay, he has to talk. No matter how much it hurts.

A whine leaves his lips, nose running along the column of your neck as he tries to scent you, “Hurts.”

He answered, his voice shaky and quiet, but it gives you nothing.

“I know Min, I know…” You hush quietly, trying to consol something that you do not have the answer to. Your other hand slowly starts to soothe up and down his back, trying to relax the poor boy enough to speak.

“The light. Hurt eyes. Head Hurts.” He gruffs out, burying his face into your skin to block out any other source that he could.

Your lips part in a soft ‘o’ as the picture becomes clear to you. Staying outside too long, helping you in the garden had come at a cost to the poor spider in the form of a splitting headache.

How could you have been so dumb to let him help you? The articles you’ve read, the pieces you’ve tried to put together to understand the man in your life– they told you as much. How delicate some species' eyes could be but… Jimin never seemed to have that issue before. Never mentioned it, anyway. He doesn’t mention a lot about himself.

You frown.

“Min, I’m so sorry…”

He only grumbles in reply, blunt nails digging into the back of your shirt to keep himself grounded. To keep his head from pounding any louder.

“Let me– Let me go get you some Ibuprofen, yeah?” You hope the sound of your voice isn’t making everything worse. If it does, he doesn’t say anything, only shaking his head, burrowing it further under your hair.

“Just… stay.” He sighs in defeat, shoulders relaxing as he holds you close. He doesn’t need medicine. He doesn’t need anything else. He just needs you. Why can’t you understand that?

“I’ll–” You breathe, trying to force the flush of your cheeks to disappear. He can see in the dark, you know that much. You wouldn’t want him seeing this. The effect he has over you. Doesn’t he know how dangerous he is?

“I’ll stay.”You sigh in defeat, unaware to the pride that blooms in his chest at the battle won. The quiet chirp from his throat that he has you here, with him. Where you’re meant to be.

Hours pass just like that, just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. No words spoken but quiet requests to know the other is okay. That the other is safe. Even as your muscles begin to cramp, bones start to become sore you don’t dare to move. Don’t dare to do a thing when you are the only one that matters to him right now.

Jimin makes it so easy to pretend.

Especially as his migraine begins to lift, as the conversation between two souls becomes more frequent. As he moves your body to the side so your head can rest against his chest. As his fingers smoothe over the skin of your thigh, rubbing gentle, comforting circles into your flesh.

“And then Namjoon, you know how bad a flyer he is, ran straight into the director of the park. Made her spill her whole coffee all over.” He smiles to himself as he tells the story of the bee hybrid, eyes heavy as he looks down at your form. So cute and small, “and you know what he said?”

You shake your head, “what?”

“‘You need some honey?’” He recites, dipping his voice in a deeper octave to mimic what you can only assume to be Namjoon’s. His voice falling into quiet giggles, you quickly follow suit. Laughing at stories of friends, feeling at home in the dark closet.

You don’t care how long the two of you have been in there. Only that he isn’t in pain anymore.

“I’m glad you’re okay now.” You tell him, eyes feeling heavy, the soothing tremor of his voice vibrating in his chest making your head start to fog. Inklings of sleep slipping into your frame. Head lulling back against him, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

He nods, his throat constricting at just how perfect you look there, fingers teetering on the brink of digging into your skin once more. “Feeling a lot better… my vision is still a little spotty but it's okay.”

You pout. He has to hold back a coo. Too cute. Do you even know how cute you are when you get like this? Probably not.

“No, it’s not okay. I should have known. Told you to go back inside so you don’t get hurt. I don’t like it when you get hurt.”

His heart pounds once, twice before he releases a shaky exhale. Do you know what you do to him when you talk like that? When you show him just how much you care?

The level of restraint he has, it has to be impressive. If he was Taehyung, he would have taken you right there. Wrapped your arms in webs so you couldn’t move. Mate you without a second thought.

Seriously, what did you think you were doing? Talking to him like that? Making him feel like he’s going insane, a few short strings from breaking free and just taking you to his nest. Keeping you there.

You can’t say things like that to him. Not with how innocent you look, with how terribly he already wants you.

A harsh breath comes out of his nose as he forces the thoughts away. He’s not Taehyung. He’s not going to take you for his own selfish desires alone. No, he’s going to keep lulling you into his web like he knows you want. Knows you need. Keep being a good little spider for you.

“I should have told you.” He says quietly, lips coming down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Couldn’t have known my species is sensitive like that.”

You hum in quiet annoyance, “Still… read online about some glasses that can help some insects manage light… should have bought them.”

A courting gift? No no, you don’t know what that is. No matter what his spider screams he knows that isn’t true.

He sighs, he needs a distraction. Something to calm the voice in his head screaming at him to kiss you.

Your leg kicks out gently as he starts, feeling like nothing but a feather tickling across your skin. Gentle silks laying across the surface from his wrists, spinnerets hard at work to produce the webbing he places on your thigh.

He huffs quietly, a smirk of a laugh coming out as he moves your leg back, “Tickles?” He asks, an amused lilt present in his voice. Oh god, he’s going to start teasing you again. He loves teasing you.

“What are you doing?” You ask quietly, eyes glancing down to where his fingers move expertly. Thread after thread moving through his fingers, decorating your skin as he draws pictures. Paints flowers, sunsets, anything he can think of really across the canvas of your thigh.

“Just drawing… calms me down.” Marking you, claiming you. Showing every other arthropod that this one is his, this one is Jimins’. Well, at least for the next 3 days when the stick wears off. “Do you want me to stop?”

A tingle runs through your spine as he works, eyes not able to leave his hands for even a second. Your stomach swarms with what has to be a hive of bees, your core bubbling with something you don’t want to describe or think about.

You just hope he can’t smell you. Can’t hear the race of your heart, the increase in breath. The flush on your cheeks that travels all the way to your ears.

He can.

“N-no… It’s okay. I want you to feel better so… do what you need to do.” You mumble, trying to get your feelings to calm down before you fully lose it.

You have to buy those glasses.

Being a spider is just too difficult!

At least that’s what Jimin has told you time and time again over the past 8 months you’ve spent with him. Cold, icy months blossoming into the summer heat with him by your side. With him making residence in your home, cementing his place in your life without any regards for going back to his original home.

It’s too hard for him out there anyway! People at the park think you’re scary so they won’t give you any snacks, security removes your webs when they become too prominent around the landscape. Something about having to “give other spiders a chance” and them “taking up too much space.”

Can you believe them?! All the time and effort he put into his pretty webs, gone in a flash! The strain the sun caused his eyes, the pounding headaches he endured stringing up pieces of silk along the trees, creating a beautiful orchestra of white to claim his territory.

Thank god he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, at least. Ever since you bought him those sunglasses, making webs outside has never been easier. Catching prey so much easier than ever before.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him eating the bugs he catches, but who are you to yuck his yum? You know all of the things he’s had to endure as a spider. Everything he’s convinced the world hates him for simply based on his breed alone. The least you can do is show kindness around his diet.

That’s how you end up rubbing his back in soothing circles time and time again, fangs piercing a stuffed animal or piece of fruit– anything he can get his hands on really, as he whines, flinches as he spits out all of his venom.

His venom is one of the worst things he’s had to deal with, you’ve learned. It builds up behind his teeth, waiting to be used on a waiting victim when there is no such thing. No exit point for the liquid to flow.

His fangs begin to ache, begging to pierce something just to release all of the pent up tension in his gums. It hurts too bad, too much to just keep it inside. So once a month, you find yourself in the same position, trying to help him relieve the aggression with soothing, gentle words as he spits the venom out in a way you can only imagine is unsatisfying. Leaving his fangs sensitive and achy for days to come.

In general, his fangs seem to be a point of special contention within the hybrid. They’re too pointy, cause too many issues. The extended canines digging into his plush lower lip just a little too hard making every movement just a little too uncomfortable. God, and he has to worry about brushing them to perfection– keep them pretty for his mate.

At least, that’s what he tells you.

The rest of the world hurts him. You don’t.

Today especially. At least that's what you can assume by the stretch of his arms, the whine bubbling from the back of his throat. His arms reaching for your form, beckoning you, calling you to join him on the couch. All worked up, acting like a wounded puppy that needs nursing just to get your attention.

It always works. Always will.

Some would say he’s become more pushy— more desperate for your attention, forcing it from your grasp without realizing it yourself. That’s what your friends have told you. How easily you fit into the palm of his hand with no more than a simple gesture coaxing you forward into his sweet embrace, never noticing the glares he sends others who enter your home.

No, you would deny all of it. Listen when he tells you that you don’t need your friends anyway. It just feels so good to be needed by him, wanted by him in a way you can never have him. In whatever way he’s willing to give.

r weakness than ever before. No matter how much you’ve tried to avoid it, how much you’ve tried to do the right thing and shove the stupid, pesky feelings down, he’s managed to twist himself into the confines of your heart. Filling a deep hole inside with his pretty silks and crooked little teeth. Takes up a lot more space then you’d ever be willing to admit. Not to him, anyway. Not when he could find his mate any day now.

You’ve been thinking about it more and more lately– the prospect of his mate. It’s difficult not to when he treats you so kindly. When he creeps in your bed at night to cold you, when he reaches out for your comfort alone. When he graces your neck with his fangs his lips–

You drop the dishes back in the sink, shoving your thoughts back into the deep dark recesses of your mind. Maybe if you can be his comfort for now, that will be enough. Even if it isn’t right.

Maybe that’s just how far you’ve fallen, how much he’s tangled you in his embrace. Not that it matters much, you smile all the same. Abandoning your task on only his third whine and fourth dramatic roll of the night. Giving in is so easy when it’s him.

But! It’s a new record for how long you’ve held out! Even got two stomps out of him. You should be proud of yourself.

Maybe you are, though it's for different reasons entirely as Jimin grabs at your wrists, pulling you down beside him. Nudging his face into the crook of your neck with a quiet, pained whine.

You like to ignore those other reasons. They’ll only hurt more if you face them head on. But it's hard to, so hard when he’s this close. When he’s holding you like you may just be the very thing from shattering his world apart.

Or maybe you’re over thinking things.

Yeah. It’s probably that.

“Y/n…” You feel his lips ghost your neck as he whines, wiggling slightly in discomfort.

His duality is always impressive, has been making your brain go a little haywire since he first moved in, since he became more comfortable in your presence. Letting you see him for what he really is. Always playing so cute, so pliant when he needs something– attention, food, for you to just give in and give him what he wants.

Other times he acts as if he could be the reincarnation of Arachne herself. Beautiful, deceptive. Terrifyingly aware of how attractive he is to the human eye. You think he does it on purpose. Likes to see your head spin as you try to keep up with which apparition of Jimin you will experience that day.

He doesn’t know how dangerous it can be, especially for you. How easy it can be to believe that it's real and not just the flirt of his personality. At least you have cute Jimin for now. It’s a little easier to manage.

“You okay Minnie? Something happen?” Your arm reaches up for where he clings to it, fingers gently petting through his fluffy blonde hair. The action seems to soothe him, make him almost pur from the feeling of your fingers alone. Make him feel the slightest bit better from whatever might be irritating him.

He forces his wrists onto your lap, nuzzles his face further into your neck. Inhale all the scents you have to offer. Let you see the issue of spiders.

The tiny holes of his spinnerets come into view, red and inflamed. Shit. They have to be hurting. The skin jutting out slightly more than it should be. Pretty strings of silk hanging in a messy manner. Clogged glands always hurt. Always make for issues.

You frown at the sight, delicately taking his wrist into your hand, looking at it closer. No, not too bad you have to take him to the doctor… you can handle it fine. But it won’t feel good, it never does. Dummy must’ve gotten too excited while webbing up the basement again, got his poor spinnerets working too hard. Overproducing silk to the point it has nowhere to go.

“Min!” You whine, already grabbing a pair of tweezers from the side-table– you’ve learned it’s always good to have a pair on-hand. “I told you that you gotta be more careful!”

“I know!” He hisses almost pathetically, “Just got ahead of myself!”

His voice is no more than a grumble, turning his head away from you yet not pulling away in the slightest. Pretending he hates when you scold him, when you show just how much you care about him.

You pretend it isn’t cute in much the same way.

“Always end up getting ahead of yourself,” You sigh dramatically, acting as if having to take care of the arachnid bothers you more than it actually does. Truth be told, you don’t care in the slightest. Who knows, maybe it even makes you preen in delight.

Feeling wanted as your fingers try to be as gentle as possible while removing the silk. Pulling out the little pieces strand by strand, work out the knot it's made under the skin to try and bring him some relief.

Though, no matter how careful you may be, he still flinches in pain all the same. Trying to cover it up like it was nothing, like every poke and prod doesn’t hurt. Like he can be tough under your gentle hands and pained gaze. He knows it has to be done and no matter how much you hate to see him in pain, you do too.

The dull ache will grow worse and worse, could even turn into an infection if you don't handle it as fast as possible. Worst case? He may have to have his spinnerets removed completely. A fate that feels worse than death to a spider hybrid– or so you’ve read at least.

Soon after he came into your life you did everything in your power to learn as much about his species as possible. Scoured webpage upon webpage, blog post on blog post, youtube video after youtube video. Even went down the sticky threads of a reddit rabbithole to try and learn everything about him.

The only thing you found: how horrible arthropod hybrids are treated in your society. Either sold at auction for absurd prices or cast aside completely depending on how “inhuman” they look. How they are used as tools to show wealth or are discarded from the rest of the world completely. The notion alone had pissed you off to no end.

Jimin was a member of the latter group– or at least that’s what you assumed. From behind no one would be able to tell he was any less than human. His lack of multiple limbs or fluttering wings left him to the devices of the reserve. Probably cast aside, dropped off by the people that raised him for not providing anything that went along with their definition of ‘value’.

Your eyes pinch into a quiet glare. They’re just fucking stupid. Anyone could see that Jimin is perfect. Anyone could see that he did not deserve the treatment he's received, nor deserved to be in the state he was in when you first found him.

And while you’re glad he didn’t end up with anyone else, still didn’t end up in an auction house like many others had, you hate them for thinking they could define his value. That they could define him for more than what he lacked. He still has beautiful fangs. Still has beautiful eyes and his natural cobalt-blue hair. He is still perfect to you.

A sharp hiss leaves his lips, arm attempting to jerk back from your hold as your grip tightens just a hair too hard. As you accidentally tug on a far too sensitive part of the knot. Getting a little too lost in your head while your fingers pick away diligently. Trying to ease the pain as fast as you can.

“Human!” He whines, quickly shushed by a flurry of apologies leaving your mouth. Face flushed, panic in your eyes as he admonishes you.

Once again you’re reminded all too well of how far you’ve fallen for him. Heart racing, brain yelling at itself for hurting him.

It’s dumb, you know that. Everything about the schoolgirl crush you’ve formed on him is. But it doesn’t stop the frown on your lips, the gentle rub of your fingers into his skin as you try to make it up to him.

A quiet grumble leaves his lips, heart hurting at the little dejected expression you wear. He forgives better than he forgets, moving his arms back to the pillow propped on your lap, allowing you to continue your work.

A pout stays on his lips as he watches your hands move. Watches the way the tweezers move under the thin layer of skin. Watches the way you move softer now, taking your time with him. Trying your utmost to not hurt him again.

To you it feels far too intimate. To him, it leaves him almost feral.

“Been working really hard on them lately, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds, trying to distract him or yourself from wandering thoughts– you’re not sure. He’s almost clean– almost all better so you can stop playing nurse. Get a warm washcloth to soothe the skin, take away any ache that lasts from the overused glands.

He nods, “Autumn is coming up…” He mumbles, the words leaving his lips in almost a shy fashion. Like it’s a secret that isn’t a secret at all in the coy fashion he knows you adore.

He knows all too well all of the things that make your stomach flutter. Listens to your heart beat like it’s his favourite song, the flush of your cheeks his favourite painting. Every little twitch of your lip or tap of your feet he catches with ease. You are his favourite everything.

You’ve become far more interesting than any book, far more gorgeous than any actress. Learned to read you better than yourself.But he supposes that would happen to any hybrid who had to wait as long as him, endure as much as he has.

Humans are tricky things, you know? You have to wait and wait and wait just for them to finally give into what they really want. Play the long game to win a prize at the end like he wants, deserves.

He’ll win it soon. August.

“Mmm? Having a contest with the house spiders or something?” You giggle, an effort to try and keep the atmosphere as light as possible. Try to distract from any pain he may be feeling at the moment.

Jimin is convinced he can speak to them– the house spiders that you allow to stay in the corners of your house. Another one of Jimin’s pitfalls that you couldn’t help but wonder into. He claims that they’re his friends, that he talks to them all the time. You, on the other hand, are unconvinced. They probably just use him for food!

“How did you know?! Who told you!” He gasps in mock surprise, head dipping low to rest on your shoulder before he continues, “No, not this time…they all know I would win anyway.”

“I know you would,” He doesn’t allow you in the basement to look at them, at least he hasn’t in the last month, but you’ve seen plenty strung around the house. Dotted in the corners of each room, his way of claiming territory. “You’ve always got such pretty silk.”

His face flushes– he knows you can’t see it. It’s good if you don’t, better if you have no clue how much your words affect him. Exactly how much those words mean to him.

Hopefully you will soon enough. Hopefully, if things go according to plan, you’ll know a lot of things. But right now you just need to stay a little clueless. Just for a little longer.

That’s what he promises to himself.

“What’s happening in autumn then?” You ask, finally pulling the last bit of silk from his left wrist. Both finally clean, finally working like they should be.

Taking each wrist into one of your hands, your thumbs find the openings to the spinnerets. Fingers rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the flesh. Your version of a little makeshift massage. One that always causes him to fall apart under. Spine slumping, mouth parting slightly as he watches your fingers work. His brain going a little empty along with the soothing motion of your fingertips.

Another thing that you don’t understand the intimacy of. The extent of what your touch means to him. How terribly it makes him want to bite you.

His voice is a pitch lower than before. You can’t help but notice the way his breath stutters in his throat at the gentle movement of your thumbs. The way his pupils expand ever so slightly. The way he leans into your touch, avoids eye contact at all costs.

You can’t help the blush that dusts your cheeks, the flutter of your ribcage. The way you keep going just because you know it’s making him feel good.

Stop it! You’re thinking in a bad way again! It isn't right! It’s just from the massage, the relief after his spinnerets are cleared! God, you can’t think about him like this. Can’t do this to yourself! Calm down, seriously. None of this is a big deal.

You know he can hear fast your heart is beating regardless of the argument going on inside of your brain.

“Autumn is mating season.” Your thumbs stutter.

Oh. That is something all of the articles definitely neglected to tell you. They didn’t tell you anything about… that aspect of spiders. Not that they explained much to begin with but certainly nothing about breeding.

You can’t help the way your grip tightens, trying to find purchase– stability at the revelation. Heart thrumming in your chest faster, more aggravated than before. The chill that travels down your spine with the hum of his voice so close to your ear.

Can’t help the sinch of jealousy that finds you either.

Fuck, you hate that he’s smirking– without even looking at his face you can tell! You know he can hear the exact pitter-patter of your heart, any little sound or smell you let out he can easily pick up. Knows your exact emotions before you know them yourself.

“Ah… I see.” This topic really shouldn’t make you so embarrassed! Pull yourself together!

You know that all hybrids have a cycle they go through. Heats, ruts, anything in between. You knew that when Jimin came into your life he would be the same! Knew there would be a time when he’d have to lock himself in the basement, body flooded with hormones. The pretty sounds you’d have to block out filling the house.

But still, because it’s him, you can’t help the nerves that arise from your core. The realisation that it would be coming sometime soon.

If you’re going to make it through you’d have to invest in some soundproof headphones. For your own sanity.

“Mmm?” He smiles, voice sweet and saccharine. Away with the pain of existing also left cute Jimin, leaving a deadly predator in its wake. One that likes to taunt and tease you while acting as innocent as an angel.

Leaves your brain confused, floundering trying to keep up with his deceptively sweet tongue. Doing it all just to get a cute little reaction out of you.

Guess he picked up on the exact little whirlwind of your mind, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed…”

“Shut up!” You whine, trying to stand from the couch so you can retrieve a washcloth. Try to avoid the way your heart is going to pound out of your chest, the way you know you’ll fall farther into his clutches.

His arms lock on firm, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck to rub his cheeks against your skin. Scent you just like he does a million times a day claiming that it's necessary. Spiders smell so much less than other hybrids– he has to do it or else.

Or at least that’s what he says– you think that it’s another lie.

“What!” He laughs, “Not like I’m saying anything dirty, it’s only natural.” He chides, sliding back against the couch, pulling you into his side with ease. Slotting you in like you’re meant to fit there, not whatever mate he meets in the future.

Your brain yells at itself. You know how dangerous that line of thinking is.

“Unless you want me to be dirty? I could if I wanted, you know.” He smiles as innocently as a wolf, fangs oozing with confidence behind them.

“Oh my god!” You sigh dramatically, putting on the front you always do when your heart feels like it may just explode. When you feel like digging an early grave because Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing.

You simply roll your eyes, “And I could punch you in the dick if I wanted to, you know?”

His laugh is always so pretty, boisterous yet still as light as air. Head tilting back, his neck on display as he chastises you for the empty threat. One you both know won’t come true, at least not right now.

He smiles, a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead as he urges you to stay. Promising he’ll be a ‘good little spider’ so you don’t have to worry about him. The implication of snacks and movies making you stay. The way he pouts when you tell him you’re not buying anymore BugBitez™ until the end of the week confirming that this is where you need to be right now. That it’s right.

It’s almost too easy for him too. Everything is too easy for you when it comes to Jimin. He claims the exact same.

Or at least, that’s what he mumbles in your ear now. Arms wrapped around you as tight as he can manage. Movie nearing its end with Jimin on the cusp of consciousness, you having lost the plot of it a long time ago.

Something about Aliens? Cowboys? Mothman? You couldn’t even hope to guess. Not when his breath is in your ear.

It’s hard to focus when he’s so close like this. When he’s saying pretty words that could get you lost in your fantasy over and over again. Making him harder and harder to give him up every moment that passes you by.

“Got lucky with my human.” He mumbles, half asleep, face buried in your hair, “Really good human.”

His lips move so lazily when they speak. Fangs running across the surface your skin like they have a mind of their own. Never daring to pierce the surface. Never daring to bite you for real. No matter how bad he really, really wants to.

How bad he wants to mate you. Make you his pliant little prey– see if the rumours about what his venom does to humans is real.

Your breath stutters but you pay it no mind. Trying, begging your eyes to remain focused on the movie. To ignore how deceptive sleepy Jimin is. Tomorrow, he will act as normal. His words will carry no weight.

He isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t his mate. You two are just friends sharing a house.

Feelings you have no right to have are forced down over and over again. It seems like it's become a daily occurrence– a pattern of habit you have no hope in breaking. The love piling behind your eyelids means nothing when the person he is meant to be with could be around any corner.

But it’s getting harder. Too hard to hold them back and restrain yourself. Especially on nights like this when it feels like fate that the two of you met.

Thinking back on that fateful day now, all of those months ago, you’re sure it had to have been. Maybe the winter gods (if such a thing existed) decided to shine their light on you; to make the blizzard a little less lonely. Make your life filled with long days and even longer nights just a little bit brighter.

Or maybe they hated you and wanted you to suffer.

Wanted you to live a life knowing your affections will never be reciprocated, knowing that Jimin has a fated one out there somewhere just waiting for him. Knowing that it isn’t you. Cursing you to a life of watching Jimin fall for another.

Thinking becomes so hard when it’s about Jimin. When it’s about the man who made you so far into the pits of hell that you don’t think you’ll ever crawl out.

So instead your fingers simply squeeze his hand. Rub gentle, soothing circles into the skin. Care for him like you’re meant to instead of thinking about what the future may hold. What will happen when he does find his mate. What they might be like, what they might dress like, if they’ll have to move in here, if you’ll have to watch him fall in love over and over again every single day.

You think you might hate them.

You sigh.

No, that wouldn’t be fair. Could never be fair to Min. He deserves happiness. He deserves the world whether or not you’re a part of it.

You hope he isn’t able to pick up on the changes in your scent.

“Mmm mm, got lucky with you Min.”

August 11th.

A beautiful dream shattered by the incoherent nightmare that is your spider pacing around your room. A pillow pulled to either side of your head, doing everything in their power to drown out the noise as an audible groan leaves your lips. His nervous prattling too early in the morning for your liking.

Any other day it would be fine, you would think that it’s cute. The way he worries his lip between his teeth. The way he gently bites down on the pad of his thumb, one arm crossed while the other soothes the skin of his chin.

Any other day you’d sit in bed, listen to him. Mock him slightly with how much worry runs through his body.

But he isn’t talking about his mate any other day, is he? No, it seems that the occasion has been saved for this morning. His head running a mile a minute, losing all composure he once had before. Losing his very sense of self as anxiety courses through his veins.

“What if it isn’t good enough? I need to present it to her soon. Need to make sure everything is perfect for her.” Apparently he had met her. When? You have not a single clue. Jimin hasn’t left the house in weeks other than to go hunt bugs and to go to the grocery store with you.

“What if the web isn’t big enough? She might not like the style either…” He grumbles, eyes locked on the carpet as he moves back and forth across your room, “God and what if she hates the food… No, no you know what she likes.”

“Jimin, she’ll like everything. It will be fine.” You groan, sitting up in bed to face him, voice gruff with morning air.. You don’t want him to be in here, talking about this. Talking to you about this. Shattering your heart every second that passes by.

You knew it would happen someday, you really did. You tried to do everything right. Tried to pretend reality wasn’t creeping through your windows with every second that passes by. Try to ignore the impending sense of doom that covered your skin.

Did everything right only to end up failing once again due to the rations of Park Jimin.

You try to look at him through the fuzz in your eyes, sleep still trying to force you back into its clutches with everything that it has. Try to see what he is doing– understand what he is saying. His voice continuing to speak yet not fluent enough for you to actually understand. His body twitches ever so slightly, head jerking as his teeth dig deeper and deeper into his thumb. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room– not to him at least. Lost within the tangles of his brain.

Pulling himself deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind, spiralling out of control of everything that seems rational, everything that he is meant to do or meant to say. It’s almost like he isn’t in the room at all. Isn’t pacing along your floor, surrounded by your scent. Comforting his inner spider before it loses control entirely with the hormones that rush through his veins.

August 11th. The date was circled 5 times on his calendar– red exclamation points, doodles scattered across the stupid day. Yet now, for the life of him he can’t seem to remember why. He can’t seem to remember much of anything though, so that isn’t a surprise. Only his web. The gifts he’s prepared for this day. Yeah. Those are the only things he can seem to think about.

A hand lands on his shoulder– one that isn’t his own. Who’s touching him? He isn’t sure. Isn’t sure of much other than the smell combing through the room that becomes sweeter and sweeter by the second. Honey he is unable to resist.

Especially with how soft the hand is that touches him. How gentle it is on his shoulder, his pace back and forth falling just so he can revel in it. Understand it.

“Hey Min.” Oh. It’s you. Your voice coming through the fog. Your voice startling him from the dream.

Gorgeous, gorgeous you.

Mate.

“It’s gonna be okay, yeah?” Why do you sound sad? No, maybe it’s distressed. His face falls.

No, no, no. You shouldn’t be sad. You should never be sad. You should always be happy with him. You should love him. His love should make you whole. Your love makes him whole.

Wait, does he have your love yet?

Now he isn’t sure.

All he knows is that he should. You should. He should wrap you up in his nest, hold you close until you feel nothing but him. Don’t think about anybody else. Look at anybody else. You should always be happy and safe. Happy and safe with him just like he feels with you. Has always felt with you.

More than that stupid reserve. More than his webs back there. It was fate that brought the two of you together, right? Right? So he should be allowed to indulge just a little. He should be allowed to let go of this stupid, fucked up play he’s been putting on for so long. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants.

The reserve always taught him he was a wild spider, you know?

Wait, spider.

Spider.

His rut. That’s what’s coming today. That’s why the day was circled. That’s why Jimin isn’t acting like himself. That’s why his spider is itching, clawing to come out to play. Why he so desperately wants all of you to himself.

He hasn’t even presented his web yet.

He tilts his head at you, blank eyes staring down into bright ones. Ones that hold his entire world at your fingertips.

“There he is.” Your smile is almost blinding. Makes his head pound just like the sun's rays.

That’s right. That’s why he needs to keep his composure. To keep that smile on your lips. To keep you happy. To keep you falling in love with him slowly the human way. The way he knows you’d prefer. Knows you adore every second of.

He isn’t Taehyung. He isn’t Taehyung.

The human way is better. Better at keeping you pliant. Better at keeping you happy. Better at keeping you unafraid.

He hates when people are scared of him. Hates when people flinch with every movement he makes. Hates when people can’t just love him like he so craves. He’s still a hybrid. He still wants love. He was bred for it just like the rest of them.

So when you came into his life, so gentle and caring despite the palpable fear that scented the air– weighed it heavily, it sparked light behind his eyes. When he felt you touch him, felt the sparks dance across his flesh and allowed himself to inhale once more. When there were no traces of fear within you, only the scent of his mate. His eternity.

He knew he had to do the right thing. Had to make you love him the human way. Had to make you fall for him, endure the wait. Endure the daily struggles of his instincts just so you would never be afraid of him. The end would be worth it.

He would never let you fear him even at the cost of his own sanity.

Because he isn’t Taehyung. He’s Jimin. He’s a good spider.

“You need to be careful Min…” You tell him quietly. Your voice is the only anchor to his shaky world. The light brought him back from the edge over and over again today.

He needs to leave your room before all of his planning goes to waste. Calm himself down. Present to you his web and all of his gifts so you can accept him properly.

“Your thumb… it’s bleeding honey…” He tilts his head again, inspects your hands as they move closer. Tries to force lucid thought from behind his heavy eyelids as you touch his skin directly.

Tries to ignore the throb deep inside as you gently remove the finger from his lips. Pull it away from the fang that was piercing him. The sting of the bite.

He hadn’t even noticed it.

He watches as a single drop spills from the abrasion. Slipping down his finger. Feels the way your hands come up to cup his cheeks.

Leave. Leave. Leave.

The way your thumb comes to his lips, worry etched across your features as you swipe away any remaining blood from his lower lip.

Leave. He needs to leave.

He isn’t sure how your finger ends up in his mouth. His plush lips wrapping around the digit, tongue curling around your flesh as he licks away the red spilled. Sucking on it gently as heat curls in his stomach. His eyes half-lidded, staring into the recesses of your very soul.

A groan passes through him at the taste of your skin. How sweet you are against his tongue. Do you even know what a vixen you are? What a tease you’ve come to be over the past 9 months?

No. Of course you don’t. Not with the blush that rushes to your cheeks. The stutter of his name that passes through his lips. The questions that you ask– what are you doing? Wh-why?

He wants you to be quiet. To enjoy you for all it’s worth. Enjoy everything you have to offer.

The command is silent– no more than the press of his bleeding thumb to your lips. The demand that you part them for him. To clean that wound that you unknowingly caused.

A hand on your cheek directing your head back. He’s been a good little spider, you can be a good little girl too, can’t you?

You are.

“J-Jimi–” He slips it inside, resting the pad against your tongue. Holding it in place. Asking, begging for this one little thing from you. You don’t mind, do you? You’ve always made him feel better before. This is no different, is it?

And so you do.

He watches the way your eyelids fall, your lips close as you begin to gently suck against it like he so craves. Like he desires down to the very cells that make up his body.

To imagine it’s his cock instead. Gently fucking into you over and over again, teaching you how to take his it how he likes. How he knows you’ll like. You’ll love everything about him. You’re meant to. It’s in the fabric of your DNA and soon it will all be his. Right after he shows you his–

Shit.

He needs to leave.

Got carried away in his fantasy. In pretending again.

His rut is coming too fast, too strong now that he finally has his mate in his grasp. He needs to leave. He needs to calm down so he can go this properly.

He leaves you on the bed, more confused and distressed than when he first entered. Annoyance hovering over your entire wake in a blanket of unrest. One that you know will not ease your soul for the rest of the day.

The spider has locked himself away. Hiding from you. Keeping himself in the basement, door locked, shutters drawn to drown out any sense of you that may be persisting.

You, on the other hand, have had nothing to do but stew in your own emotions. Think about every little decrepit detail that occurred hours prior. Edicting yourself to only address him by spider even in your thoughts.

It’s spiteful, sure. But it’s the least he deserves, you know? After everything he’s put you though– pulling you along like a little puppet on a string. Making you sit idly by for him to give you any lick of affection he’s willing to part with. Making you feel special, like you're worth something every second that he gets only for him to remind you with too much familiarity that he isn’t yours to have.

He woke you up, told you about his mate, looked at you like he was going to fuck you, and made you suck on his finger only for him to leave? The sheer fucking audacity of this man.

You’re sick of it.

Sick of having to force everything down because you know it isn’t what he wants. Sick of falling in love with him every day. Sick of having to play house. Sick of not having him. Sick of being playing the lovesick fool.

So, into the novels you fall. Into alternate worlds that are far better than your own. Displacing yourself into new habitats, new environments to escape the confines of the four stuffy walls that surround your body, head, and heart.

Into a world where it’s okay to fall in love with whoever you want. Where it’s okay to feel wanted. Where reality can be shut away by your headphones and a good snack. Where you can ignore the body approaching behind you. The tap on your shoulder.

You try to, honestly. And a good attempt it was.

Keeping your grip firm on the pages, nails digging into the paper below. Breath in your lungs held as if doing so would keep him away. Eyes tracing the pages over and over again though reading nothing. Attempting to appear as if you didn’t notice him at all.

Maybe he would leave, that was your biggest hope. Take the headphones placed firmly over your ears as a loud, obnoxious hint. That he would see you’re not interested and retreat to his basement layer to plot on the next way to torture your heart.

He doesn’t. He never would.

His frame comes to kneel in front of you. To stare up at you with those big brown doe eyes that you know you could never escape. Placing a gentle hand on your knee, trying to get you to see that he is there. That he wants to see you.

You see his lips move, though ignore entirely what they say. Letting out a huff, turning your body away from his own. Continuing to mindlessly stare at the pages even though their contents holds no meaning in this moment. No real value.

His forehead drops to your leg, a sigh leaving his throat. Words mumbled from his lips you’re unable to make out– not that you would want to hear them anyway.

Maybe it’s a temper tantrum of sorts. Giving him a taste of his own medicine. To feel even a pinch of what you do. He probably never does.

Your fight is a good one. It truly is– at least you think so. But it all comes tumbling down the second his lips press against your knee. His hands reaching past your iron grip on the book to hold your own.

You will always fall to the likes of Jimin.

Especially when you see his lips mouth the word please. His brows crested with worry, his lower lip quivering in worry. Fangs biting the surface to try and soothe the nerves he feels.

Any sense of foreboding he held earlier, gone. The tick of his shoulders, the cold, blank stare of his eyes vanished. Your Jimin, the one you’re used to, in love with, rising to the surface again.

You’re unable to fight against the plea, no matter how much you want to. Unable to fight against him.

“What is it.” Your voice is harsh as you remove your headphones, setting the book to the side. Much more than it appears he’d like it to be if the flinch of his neck is anything to go by.

“I…” Words feel lost in his throat, but he forces himself to continue forward, “I have something I need to show you, human…”

Why is he acting so weird? Acting like earlier never happened? He seems nervous, almost petrified at your reaction. As if anything you say could break him entirely.

You don’t understand it at all. Anything about this situation, really.

“Okay…?” You watch his face carefully, trying to reason. To figure out why exactly the air seems so heavy. Why this situation feels so tense. “Show me then?”

“I…You have to come with me?” It sounds like a question, his face flinching at his own words. He’s meant to do this perfectly. Why can’t he seem to get it right? Why can’t his instincts help him with this? “Like, I can’t bring it up here… I need you to follow me?”

“Huh?” The quiet breath leaves your throat as your features pinch.

He quickly tries to explain further, trying to help you see through the worry on your face, “Not far I promise. Just to the basement, yeah?”

Your head jerks back in surprise, “You never let me go down there.”

“Yeah but…it’s special this time.” Oh.

It’s almost as if the pieces click together on their own. Your brain drawing conclusions, making decisions for you despite the obvious staring right in your face. His mate is probably down there. Wants you to meet her.

You can only sigh, accept your fate for what it is. Follow the boy with the string to the basement once again, just like the first night he came tumbling into your life.

“Okay.”

He holds your hand as you walk.

Holds it as if his life depends on it. As if it’s the red string of fate that has tied your two bodies together for the rest of eternity. As if he might die the second you two part. As if you might run away the second he lets go.

You never do, never try to run away from him. You’ve tried to run away from your feelings for so long. The least you can do is see through to the end of them, right? That would be the right thing to do. The dignified thing instead of trying to throw a tantrum on the floor.

The walk to the basement feels like the longest in your life. A marathon you have no training for, no experience with tugging you along. Silence extended for miles along each creak of the floorboards, each set of the dim stairs.

Jimin left the lights off, dusk settling along the horizon not long ago. Only distant flickers from the basement coming through as you make your way down. Candle light in the distance lighting the way.

He doesn’t say a thing as your feet reach the bottom of the stairs, toes cushioned by soft silk lining the floors. He doesn’t have to.

It’s beautiful. That’s the only way you can describe what he’s turned the basement into.

Beautiful silks cover every waking surface– the floors, the walls, the ceiling all lined in brilliant patterns of white dancing across the surface. Creating stories as if they were living themselves.

You wish you could stare at them. Admire them for the rest of your life. Decipher each piece laying, coating the surface. Envisioning the world through the eyes of Jimin. Through the world around him.

Webs cross from floor to ceiling, taking space over the room. Intricately laid in patterns you are more accustomed to with spiders. Webbed hatching sectioning off parts of the space, acting as furniture for the bug to rest on.

As your eyes scan the room, you finally find what you think has to be the most gorgeous web in the world. Sitting in the far right corner of the room stands a nest that takes up the entire corner. The effort it took to make it clear in its craft. So soft, so comfortable.

You almost want to curl up in it yourself.

Illuminated by only the glow of candle light, Jimin does nothing but watch as you take everything in. Watch as your face changes into that of euphoria. Mesmerised by everything he has worked so hard on, everything he’s done just to impress you.

You turn to face him, staring at him with nothing but wonder in your eyes.

“Jimin, this is– fuck this is incredible,” Your voice is breathless, cut off by how overwhelmed you are with everything. With him. “This must’ve taken you so long, it’s so beautiful. Oh my god, how did you–”

He can’t take it anymore. Can’t take it now that he has you here, has you in his web. Now that he can keep you in it forever. Complimenting him. Completing him. He needs to finish with the rest of this fast. Before he does something he’ll regret. Before he finishes showing you how good a mate he will be to you properly.

He tugs you forward, practically puzzling as he tugs you deeper into his room of webs. Expertly guiding you through each one without a second to spare.

Jittery, excited. Feeting rocking themselves back and forth as he sits you on a blanket placed on the ground.

He isn't going to last much longer. Not before his heat takes over. Before he loses his mind at you in the sight of his nest. His mate in his nest. Waiting to be bred. Waiting for–

No, no Jimin. Stop it. Stop acting like a spiderling that doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he has his mate in his nest.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, voice shaky as he tries to calm himself down, “I made us a picnic… I hope you like it.”

His spider hisses at the words, hating having to describe it as something stupid like a picnic. No, it's a nuptial gift. Evidence that he’s a good enough mate. That he’s good enough for you. That he deserves you.

You watch him, watch as he pushes the basket filled to the brim with food over to you. Watch as his frame shakes slightly as he stares at you, fingers tapping against strings of webs closest to your leg.

You can’t help but feel lost. Overwhelmed with affection, but utterly, entirely, hopelessly lost all the same. What is he doing? Why is he presenting all of this for you? Shouldn’t he be doing this for his mate? Isn’t all of this some type of courting ritual?

Oh.

It appears the puzzle you constructed– pieces matched together haphazardly stuck together with glue isn’t the solution after all. Isn’t the reality presented before you know.

You’re… you’re Jimin’s mate?

Your eyes widen, head jerking to meet Jimin’s gaze. His pupils shaky, not daring to leave the surface of the basket. Not daring to move an inch until you accept him.

You’re an idiot.

“J-Jimin a-are we…?” You hesitate to ask, hesitate to break the gentle balance residing over the entire basement.

His head snaps to face your own, eyes plagued with the same blank, predatory look as before.

“Mate.” Deep, harsh, scratchy. His voice makes you feel like he’s going to devour you whole. Like he is the monster waiting in the deepest recesses of your nightmares when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. When in reality he is the very being your soul yearns for stronger than any other.

The revelation, the– everything leaves you overwhelmed. Emotions strung up for the stars, casting aside any comets that tried to hurdle towards the perfect glass encasing this moment. This eternity you wish to live in forever as you finally understand that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You can’t help but grab his cheeks– ignore how venomous he looks, and press your lips against his own. Can’t help the explosion behind your eyelids, the sparks that travel across your skins in euphoric waves. The way your heart swells like a balloon, racing in your chest so fast you fear you may die.

Every emotion you’ve felt that day, every nagging, creeping sensation finding its way into the back of your skull vanishes in an instant. No going back. No orchestra or chorus reprise. No thoughts of not being his mate. You are his mate.

Only him.

Only Jimin.

He doesn’t part with you, not for a second. Not when he finally has you against him. When you so easily rise into his lap. When his natural instincts finally stop screaming at him and take over completely. Kiss you with everything he’s worth. Devour you whole.

His hands find purchase on your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin. Mocking him for not doing this in the closet with you all those months ago. Allowing him to truly understand how good it would’ve felt then. How good it will feel every second that follows.

He thinks you have to be the prettiest thing in the world.

His spider thinks that you need to be bred full of his spiderlings. Fucked so hard that you wont be able to walk– wont be able to leave his nest. That he’ll be able to tie you up nice and pretty, stuff you with his cum over and over again until you’d never even think about leaving.

His spider is winning.

“Min…” Your voice is breathless, trying to keep up with the flurry of kisses he presses against your lips, your face– anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s addicted to the feeling, like he’s making up for lost time.

“Min, I love you.” And just like that, any sanity he has left vanishes.

His spider has won.

Without a second thought you’re lifted from your place on his lap, thrown carelessly into his nest. His nest where you will stay. His nest where he’ll keep you. All thoughts vanished from that pretty little head of yours. Just like it should be.

His hands find the back of his collar, shirt discarded without a second thought on the floor. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when he has you. When he wants to feel you fully.

You can only stare– fawn at his tan skin. The gentle muscles on display for you. For your eyes only while he crawls towards you. Stalks you just like they might a pretty little butterfly caught in their web. Wrapped in webs and killed without a second thought.

His lips find yours once again. Slotting together, filling the other to make them whole. Dazed in lust and passion, neither soul hoping there would ever be a way out for the other.

Well, there won’t be for you. But that’s okay. You’ll love it. Love every second of it.

He knows it as his fingers dance against your skin. Sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, running with skilled ease up your sides. The chill that racks through your body is evidence enough. The way you so easily allow him to draw your shirt over your head solidifies it. Your shorts follow, making it set in stone.

Your breath comes out in short pants, every slight touch, every little movement sends fire burning through your skin. Igniting you, setting your core ablaze with heat that only he can extinguish.

Fingers gently sliding over your ribs, thumbs coming just blow your breasts to rub circles into the skin while his fangs nip gently into your lower lip. He can’t bite you now. No, after he mates you he can bite you all he wants.

He groans at the thought, hips rocking themselves against your clothed cunt. Allowing you to feel all of him– the press of his cock, the motion of his need allowing you to fall higher and higher into a heaven you did not think possible.

You whine at him to do something, anything. Too impatient to wait any longer. Too impatient to live a second more without something, anything buried inside of you.

His smile is sick, twisted as he reclines back on his heels. Allows himself to get a good look at you.

“Shh, Shh…” His hand cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb against your lips. Pressing it inside with more ease than before. More compliance than before. There’s a good little girl.

“Poor thing is having a hard time, huh?” He mocks gently, hips pressed firm against your own allowing you to feel every inch of him, “Pretty lips all swollen, pussy a little mess from just kissing… mm mm…”

He groans, hand slipping between your legs. What he finds is no more than a mess of a girl. Hips bucking upwards. Slick dripping from your center, panties coated in arousal. Puffy little clit begging for any attention he’s willing to give it.

Without any hesitation his thumb finds your clit, pressing against it without any thought of reprieve. Without any thought to give you any of the relief you crave. You’ve made him wait this long, you can wait a second, no?

He groans high as you buck against his hand, mewl leaving your lips as some sort of plea. Ah~ how cute. Such a little thing so desperate for something, anything that you’re willing to give up your very head in return? How cute! How adorable!

His spider preens. Is almost so belated he doesn’t notice the hands that come down to grip his wrist. Hold him in place all so you can circle your hips against his thumb. Rub adorable little rings into your clit without any help from him. Use him to make yourself feel good.

A coo leaves his lips. Who is he to deny such a pretty little human?

“Ah pretty baby wants to feel good, does she?” He almost giggles at how pathetic you look. How adorably you cling to him. How hard you try.

His arm is ripped from your grasp, pulling back from the very place you desire him most. Where your arousal soaks the cotton of cotton, so palpable he can practically taste it in the air.

“It’s okay baby…” He sees the annoyance in your face, the battiness you hold in your heart coming to light. Excited to tame it. Excited to quell the pretty little devil in his web.

Tie you up. Breed full.

Breed you.

His fingers work fast. Arms are pulled over your head, silks quickly pinning them to the surface. Strings wrapping and wrapping until he’s sure you’re secure. Sure you can’t move.

His hips gently rock against your own, clothes cock pressing against your core. Watching as your hips buck, as you try to urge him closer with a pathetic whine.

See exactly how you struggle against the strings.

Perfect, perfect girl. How did he get so lucky, huh? Can never be sure.

You’re unable to stop the cry that leaves your throat as his hands pull your panties aside, finger thrusting into your wet heat. Filling you up, making you feel a little more whole.

“Min~” The moan of his name is shaky. Every sense you have in overdrive as he works his finger against your walls. Every push inside deeper, harder. Curling against your walls in the exact way you craved.

Pleasure coils in your stomach faster than you thought possible. A second finger joining the first, pumping in and out as he prepares you for his cock. Prepared you to take all of him and nothing less.

He knows you can do it. You can, can’t you?

“Mhmm baby, I know… head a little clearer now, huh?” He chuckles, chastising, “Can only think when you’re full. It’s so cute.”

You whimper at his words, head rolling back as the coil pulls tighter and tighter within your gut. Urging you to just let it snap, feel everything you’ve been waiting for.

“F-feels good…” You mutter quietly, unable to see the haze cloud his vision. The way his amused expression drops into that of a wild animal.

Without any warning his fingers pull out of your heat, body leaving your own entirely as he stands. Grabbing your hips, dragging them closer. Flipping your body over. Setting you pretty on your knees, arms uncomfortable crossed in front of you.

He quickly rids himself of his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from their confines. Head red and messy as it hits his stomach. Angry at how neglected you’ve left him. How desperately he wants this.

You have no way of preparing yourself for the drag of his cock through your lips. The gentle nudge against your clit. Thick head dragging through your folds, spreading your arousal. Mixing it with his pre-cum.

Making you messy. Making you dirty just for him. Making you belong to him.

“Gonna fill my mate.” All humour is gone from the man behind you, as if he is someone else entirely. It’s really too bad your head has a few too many screws loose to care. Care about anything other than the way his firm head presses against your hole. The way his blunt nails dig into your flesh.

“Gonna breed her. Mate her. Make her mine.” It’s almost as if his word is a command. The very sentences he utters become law.

You can only nod your head. Give yourself to the very man that fate led you to all those months ago. “Want~”

The thrust of his hips into your walls is almost too much to bear. A cry leaving your lips as he fucks himself inside in a single thrust. Forcing you to take him to the hilt, to feel all of him stretch your walls. No break. No waiting around.

You’ve both done enough waiting.

It hurts— the burn, as he stretches you full. Presses his cock against your walls making sure your cunt remembers no one but him.

The way he gives no reprieve, fucking into you like an animal starved. Pulling back until only the tip remains inside before fucking himself fully inside once more.

“Min!” You cry, waves of pain and pleasure boiling all the same within your bones. All the same inside of your blurred head, nothing but static and thoughts of him behind the line of your eyes. Slipping off into space as you let cunt clenched pathetically around his cock.

“Good mate, taking me so well. Such a good human.” He groans, hips pulling back and thrusting into you over and over again. Making you fall apart with his pace. Pumping his cock into your pathetic little hole fast and hard. Ruining you for any other man.

Making sure he will be the only one you allow to enter heaven.

Your moans come out wanton, pleaing. Hips start to move back against him, trying to keep up with his pace despite the burn you begin to feel in your tied arms. Desperate to let him know just how good he’s filling you. Just how good he’s making you feel.

“My mate.” His pants come out harsh, breath on your neck as he hovers close. The sound of skin and against skin is the only thing you’re able to hear. The pressure of Jimin’s lips against your neck makes you feel like you’re about to go insane.

He’s desperate to make you fall apart on his cock alone. Pleasure building and building, the coil tight. Ready to snap at any moment. Ready to fall apart at his command.

“Gonna make you mine forever pretty.” His voice is featherlight once more. The switches have you reeling, your brain spinning. “Want that, don’t you? For me to bite you? Mark you up? Breed you full of my spiderlings? Ruin that pretty little head for anything else.”

He sighs, nails digging into your hips where they’re sure to leave bruises. You nod your head in agreement, moans spilling past your lips as his hips change their angle. His cock hitting the spot that leaves you seeing stars on every thrust.

“Say the word and you’re mine.” You feel his fangs against your skin. The harsh drag across your delicate skin. “Forever.”

You can’t take it anymore, pleasure burning through you. Blinding you. Unable to think about anything else other than the rough thrusts of his cock against your walls.

“Please.” It’s no more than a whimper, but he swears it’s the loudest thing he’s ever heard.

His teeth clamp into your flesh— the final thing needed to push you over the edge into bliss. Your body stutters, walls a vice around his cock as the coil finally snaps. Heat flowing through every cell you possess. The only thing in your soul is Jimin.

Your back arches, eyes dotting with black as you allow it to overtake you. Jimin rocking you against him, groaning as he fills you with his cum, painting your walls white. Allowing you to ride out your high with him. Finally allowing the rut to rid his brain for only a moment.

He slowly pulls out of you, panting. Quickly moving to cover your center back up with your underwear. Make sure all of his cum stays tucked away in your pretty little pussy to get you nice and pregnant.

You can only whimper, body twitching at every movement he makes. Worn down your bones— energy sucked so dry you can’t even feel the throb of your neck. Don’t even notice the blood that drips from where he marked you— claimed you in the way only a hybrid can.

All you're sure of is the need to be close to him. Need to feel him.

Is this what he had been feeling all along? Marks were known to do that, to allow you to feel what your mate does. If he had to endure what you’re feeling right now, it had to have been hell for him.

“Min…” you calm his name. Pull him from where he stares between your legs. Where his fingers rub circles into the surface of your underwear, spreading any cum that leaks from your twitching hole.

Within a second he’s at attention, staring at you with all of the love in the world. You’re not sure how you missed it before. How you could have deluded yourself into believing any less.

He pouts as you wiggle at your restraints, silk holding your arms in place all this time. He gently shakes his head, slowly flipping your body back over onto its back. Crawling over you to look at your face properly. Take in your fucked out expression. Ruined his pretty little human. Made her perfect.

“Don’t want to.” His lower lip juts out at you, eyes wide just like a begging dog. “Look pretty tied up in my web. Should stay like this. Forever.”

“I don’t think my job would like that very much.” You giggle, lip pouting out to match his own. He leans down, quickly capturing your mouth in a quick kiss.

Something hard pressed against your leg once more. His hand comes down to guide it against your heat. Rub against you despite the oversensitivity and cum leaking from your hole.

“Then we move to the woods together… I’ll hunt for us…” He grumbles, pushing your underwear to the side once more. Collecting any cum that has spilled out with his cock, gently fucking it back into your cunt with the head.

A whine rips from your lips due to oversensitivity. Pussy sore, aching from what he just put you though. What you aptly begged for. Yet you can’t deny him. Don’t want to deny him with how good it feels to be filled. How addicted you’ve become. Cock drunk.

“Wh-what?” You try to breathe, walls fluttering around his length as he slowly thrusts back inside. Filling you to the brim once again. “W-we can’t do that, Minnie…”

His thrusts are slow, languid. Almost like he’s making love. Treating you with utmost care despite how wrecked your entire frame is.

He is entirely unaffected. His rut leaves him wanting for more and more until you have nothing left to give. Face twisting into confusion at your words.

“Why can’t we? Make you up a nice pretty web… keep you full all the time” He hums against your neck, gently licking at his mark, “treat you like a real good mate, yeah? Fill you up over and over. Will look so pretty with my spiderlings.”

He moans the words, hips speeding up ever so slightly at the thought. It dawns on you that this must be his rut talking. Filling his head with nonsense he knows can’t come true. In a few days when he wakes up from it, he’ll probably pretend he never said anything about taking you to the woods. Keeping you there.

No harm in agreeing, is there? Especially when he makes you feel so good. So happy and full. When it makes him feel just as good. When your head starts to feel fuzzy, the exhaustion weighs heavily on your consciousness. You’re on birth control anyway, it's fine.

“Mmhmm… sounds nice..” You moan quietly, already feeling your second orgasm approaching. Allowing yourself to become lost in the same dream as him. Allowing yourself to fall victim to pretty words and false promises. Ones that he intends to make true.

“Gonna take such good care of my mate.” He groans, face buried in your neck. He feels your walls clamp around him, pulling him in over and over again. Cunt never wanting him to leave.

His hand draws between your thighs, fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Neither of you are going to last long. Both too sensitive to do anything but fall into the pleasure of each other.

Pussy fluttering against his cock, head rolling back as your high runs through you once more. White clouding your vision, ears ringing as you are overcome with fire. Drowning in the feeling of his cock fucking you full of his cum once again.

He lets out a harsh groan as he fills you. Breeds you just like a good spider would. Makes you feel complete as he helps you through both of your highs.

Your eyes feel heavy— too heavy to stay open even a second longer. Too tired to stay awake as he pulls your underwear back over your center. As he pulls your body close to his own.

He doesn’t blame you, never could. It must be hard having to keep up with a hybrid during their rut. But he knows you can do it. Knows you’ll do it for him. Especially with the promises you made. The ones you made only to him.

The last words you hear before falling under the veil of consciousness is a simple declaration. One you’ve waited months to hear.

“I love you.”

“Y/n! Hurry up!”

The whine of Jimin’s voice is louder than any car, highway, hell— aeroplane you’ve ever heard, you’re sure of it. The grip of his hand around your own is like iron, tugging you along the worn trail path, trying to urge you faster than your feet will allow.

“I’m going! I’m goin!” You chide with him, giggle leaving your lips at his hurried nature. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the spider more excited. Maybe even more so than when he strokes the bite mark scarred into your shoulder– your permanent reminder that you are his and he is yours.

“Not fast enough!” He groans, head rolling back in annoyance, “The best spot is going to get taken!”

He’s told you about this spot time and time again– excitement palpable with every mention. A beautiful clearing back at the reserve, one that the trees shine perfectly through. The best spot for basking in the whole park, as well as for begging humans for snacks.

You smile at the thought. Following as close behind him as your feet will manage. Blanket and bags of food tight in your grip. After months of paperwork, he can finally return to this place without fear they’ll take you away from him. The mate licence in your wallet proof enough of it.

He finally gets to take you to the reserve– the place he called home for so long before he met you. The place where he first learned how to be a proper spider. The first place he learned to make friends. He’s most excited about the latter part, getting to show off his shiny new mate to all of his friends. The one he caught the human way.

He’s been talking about it for days, since you first brought up the idea of visiting. Of wanting to see where he lived before he met you. Prattling on and on about everything he’s going to show you, how he’s going to introduce you to Jungkook if he can. About the waterfall over the cove that you two can swim in without anyone finding out.

All of it is a dream come true for your little spider. Your mate.

You smile at the thought– how excited he is as he helps you set up the blanket on the ground. As he helps spread food all around you. Body jittery, head twitching at every little sound.

It’s clear he’s going a little crazy with joy. Entirely ecstatic to have you here with him. Sitting across from him on the ground in a way that almost mocks the picnic you had in his basement that night months ago.

Ah, sorry. Nuptial gift ceremony. He liked it a lot better when you called it that.

“Oh! And then, after we eat, I can introduce you to the head of the park! She’s Namjoon’s mate, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He talks to himself, chatting idly about nothing as he presses another strawberry to your lips. You eagerly take it, biting down on the fruit without a second thought.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you speak, “Really? It must be difficult to confess to her, then.”

He nods his head, overexcited as he looks past you into the trees. Nose twitching as he tries to pick up a scent. Yellow tinted sunglasses high on his nose to block any light from hurting his delicate pupils.

You can’t help but think about how beautiful he is. How lucky you are to have him.

His hair has grown out since that fateful day months ago, blonde replaced by a deep blue that puts the night sky to shame. How his frame has bulked out ever so slightly. Pretty tan skin looking more healthy than ever. His head off in the clouds, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t pick you up and drag you off into the woods.

The human way is never easy for him.

“Mhmm… he’s trying but he isn’t very good at it. Doesn’t understand how humans like it to be done…” He mumbles.

“Hybrid’s do it different?”

“Yeah,” He seems a little lost in space, nose twitching harsher as he tries to recognise the exact scent he knows will be coming soon. Jungkook can never hold himself back from a picnic, no matter how far. He just wishes his nose was stronger.

“Hybrids just take their mate right away. Prove they’re a good mate and then it’s done. But human’s you have to teach.” Your shoulders drop slightly, and maybe if it wasn’t for the love you felt for him or the mate mark pressing against your neck, you would have understood the severity of his words. Of teaching a human, tricking them into making them fall.

“Oh…” You pout, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. None the wiser to the meaning behind his words, “I’m sorry… it must’ve been hard for you.”

He only shakes his head, “It’s okay. I just didn’t want you to ever be scared.”

Suddenly, Jimin is standing. Eyes darting across the underbrush that surrounds the treeline. You follow his vision, squinting slightly to try and make out exactly what he is looking at when two antennae pop over the other side of a bush. Twitching, pointing in your direction. Hunting down food as they move closer.

The insect moves close, tilting his head as he finally moves within your line of vision. Mop of brown floppy hair on his head, wide bunny eyes. Twitching nose all the same. If it wasn’t for the lack of ears and black antennae jolting from his head, you would’ve thought he was a rodent.

“Kook!” Jimin’s voice is loud as he quickly run’s to meet the boy. The other looks just as excited, eyes lighting up with stars as his legs take off in the same direction. The two fall into a puddle of laughter and play fighting as they fall to the ground in greeting.

The infamous Jungkook, an ant hybrid– the biggest ant hybrid you’ve seen, mind you. Jimin’s best friend is finally revealed. And you have to say, seeing them together. Watching as your mate attempts to playfully tie him up silks has to be the prettiest sight you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Oh my god, Min!” You laugh as Jimin struggles, the giant ant hybrid easily breaking free from the others strings. Instantly the attention is on you. Jimin leaning back to his heels, head thrown back as he whines.

“Shut up! He’s gotten stronger! My webs hold you good enough!” You continue to laugh, unaware of the ant sneaking closer. His antenna tickling your shoulder as he stares at the food in front of you. Begging for just a little taste to bring home to his colony, a little bit to make the queen happy.

You happily oblige, making room for the two of them to join you once again after their little scuffle. A reunion too cute to not try and remember forever. And just like that, conversation begins to flow easily between the three of you. Almost as if Jimin never left in the first place.

The two of them spend all afternoon catching up– Jimin reciting the story of how you two met, Jungkook opening up about the cute human that’s started to come by the park every saturday. Pulling his antennae down as he speaks, clearly embarrassed. Telling you all about how they met, about the reserve.

“Ah~ don’t mind him. Kookie’s just embarrassed cause he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Jimin teases, leaning over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. His arm tightly wrapped around your frame, holding you close. “Not every day that an ant hybrid has a mate outside of their colony, you know?”

“Hyung! Shut up!” He quickly whines, eyes shooting a subtle glare towards the other. Legs kicking slightly underneath his frame. “You… know what it means… especially cause she’s human…”

“I know.” His fangs shimmer as his hand reaches out to ruffle his hair, “Don’t worry. She’ll wanna be your queen in no time.”

You nod your head in agreement, picking up another piece of fruit and popping it into your mouth. Nothing much to add to the conversation– you’ll never really understand the intricacy of hybrids and how they work. Especially those like Jungkook and Jimin.

Yet, you can’t help but feel at peace with that. At peace with them and this moment. Content with your life, content with your mate and the life you’ve built together. You hope that Jungkook can do the same with his own someday. Build a nice little colony or whatever it is that ants do.

“Mhmm, anyone would want someone as cute as you.” You smile, watching as the ant’s eyes go wide. Blush covering his cheek as he tries to pull his antenna down to cover them. Jimin instantly pounces on the other, starting a new round of play fighting. Laughing about having to defend his mates honour. That she isn’t allowed to look at any other hybrid. No one but him.

You giggle along with them, leaning back from your spot. Taking a mental picture of the scene in front of you. Jimin happy, playing. The sunset over the horizon as the three of you laugh in the woods. As Jimin no longer looks anything like that spider all those months ago.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe you did fall into his trap lined with silk. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even when you wake up in the middle of the woods. When you wake up in a cabin decorated in pretty webbing. When you come to find society is far behind you. When you discover no one else other than Jimin telling you that this is exactly what you asked for.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

2K notes · View notes

yok00k · 8 months ago

Text

Igual Que Un Ángel

pairing: hellokittylover!/bimbo!oc x boxer!jk

genre: MATURE, fluff, lowkey angst,

“heaven must have sent you, love”

synopsis: after spending the entire day shopping with your boyfriend, you’re craving mochi donuts and bubble milk tea before going to bed and jungkook, even in his tired state, will do everything to make you happy.

word count: 5.4k

warnings: so much fluff, NO plot, jealous/possessive kook, oc can’t tell when someone flirts with her, tiny silent treatment, oc is kinda dumb, lots of kisses, shower sex, oral [m], oc’s head game is STRONG, head pusher jk, hair pulling, they went shopping for underwear, cussing, aftercare, oc is obsessed with pink/hello kitty, oc is so desperate for his cock and she must get what she wants⛄️(she was virgin before this took place), oc had a vid of her playing, mention of toys, JK is not trying to b obvious but he’s IN LOVE, brief cockwarming at the end, <not proofread>

author’s note: i def did not write this in between my classes😮‍💨 i just discovered that im mentally unhinged as im editing this in class. I have my priorities straights tho so here you go🥢

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆

you suppose today was really wonderful.

you two spend almost the whole day at the outlet mall, mostly to shop clothes for yourself. you needed new pairs of undies and Jungkook being the glorious boyfriend he is, helped you shop. not only he paid for all your purchase, he also gives his opinions on certain cloth materials of what the underwear was made of. he wants to make himself useful by helping you out pick out make sure that they’re comfortable to your preference, he goes with you in the fitting room to try them on in front of him.

As you try on clothes for hours and hours in multiple shops, your boyfriend miraculously always finds a chair in the corner of each fitting room that he can rest on. a few hours later, you two arrive back at your place. jungkook initiated to carry all the paper bags you had as the two of you headed from the garage to inside your house.

soon, he began cooking the night’s dinner, which you really enjoy watching because he keeps entertaining you with his skillful talent and his humorous jokes. a quality time like this just makes you fall in love with him even more. you wish and pray that you can spend the rest of this delightful lifetime with him.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆

the hands of the clock signifies 11:11, which is usually the time you drift off to sleep. except tonight isn’t a typical night, owing to the fact that your beloved lover is sleeping over at your cozy flat.

although it’s pretty late, you two are cuddled on your not-so-spacious couch, watching a kdrama that was recently released and you still have the clothes you put on this afternoon: a cute pink long sleeve crop top and a pink/black mini skirt. you also can’t forget to add a pair of thick fleece tights since it’s freezing cold outside.

you felt a sudden cravings for something in the midst of the show. you desire for something sweet. and chewy.

“koo..” you murmur, distracting your man from the show on the big screen. he redirects his focus to you as he caresses your hair with his soft, yet rough palms.

“i’m craving donuts”

“want me to go to the convenience store and grab some for you?” he suggests

“no I don’t want that, I want mochi donuts” you cutely demand

“but baby it’s too late” he said, lifting his wrist to look at his gold Rolex watch. “aren’t they close at this time?”

these days, your social feeds are just full of ads, particularly bakery places nearby your place that serve mouth-watering breads, donuts, ice creams, bubble milk tea, and the list goes on. promptly, the phone that’s sitting next to jungkook was taken by you.

“look, there’s one that’s still open till midnight” you replied, showing him the navigation to the bakery shop that’s on your screen. his tired eyes glanced at your phone, then back at you.

“please koo?” you pleaded, climbing on top of him and giving him thousands of kisses all over his face until he’s got enough is the most effective technique to persuade him. how can jungkook say no when you display a behavior like this to get whatever you want? the forever answer is he just can’t.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆

You two arrive at the place twenty minutes before they close. Since it’s late at night, you can see through the big windows that there’s not many customers inside the donut shop.

“oh my, we’re finally here” you joyfully babble to yourself out loud which made your driving boyfriend chuckle. while jungkook slows down the car to eyeball a good parking spot, you reach for your pink purse taking out the hello kitty lip oil to apply them on your chapped lips.

Jungkook carefully parked the car on the side of the road. He looked at our surroundings such as the front, back, and the side of his vehicle, making sure everything seems clear before he takes off his seat belt and gets off of the automobile. As usual, Jungkook walks to the other side, gesturing that he will open the car door for me. This man doesn’t ask a lot regarding how things should be in our relationship but the number one rule he established is that you could never open any door when you’re with him.

He quickly unlocked my door with one hand and offered his other hand to assist my body getting out of the car. As you got out, you felt the strong wind blowing your mini skirts, making them move up. but jungkook immediately takes off his zip up fleece oversized jacket to tie it tight around your waist.he ensures that the skirt won’t go up by walking behind you whilst holding your cold hand towards the bakery.

a scent of sweet caramelized brown sugar that you’ve been craving welcomes you as soon as you step into the threshold of the place. Looking around the store, you notice multiple neon pink led lights of donuts are decorated in the walls. the long honey maple stained table against the windows was paired with white barstool chairs. You also did not fail to miss that their white snowed christmas tree is still up, filled with rosy ornaments and pinkish lights around it.

‘this is definitely my new favorite place’ you noted to yourself as you feel cozy inside.

Your boyfriend wasted no time to lead you to the counter, only for you to see the variety of flavor of their delicious mochi donuts displayed on the front top. you can’t help but to drool on the sight, you’re starting to feel satisfaction by just looking at them.

“hello, what can I get for you today?” the tall male server who’s probably around your age friendly greeted. a little too friendly, in jungkook’s opinion but he chose to try to shrug it off. before answering him, I turned to jungkook “what are you getting koo?” asking to know what he wants.

“don’t know. you can order whatever you want for me” he responds as his doe eyes look up to scan the menu on the screen that’s mounted in their polished ceramic walls. Jungkook is on a diet these days therefore he tries his best to restrain eating sweets but he knows that cheat days won’t hurt if it only happens once or twice a month.

turning to face the server once again, you made up your mind on what to order. “hi, can we get two brown sugar milk teas with less ice and can you make one extra sugar please” you gently requested and the server instantly punched the orders in their ipad.

you take another look at the yummy donuts before continuing. “and i would like to get a dozen of the mochi donuts.” you pointed to the biggest bakery box.

jungkook wasn’t even surprised that you’re getting 12 pieces, potentially all for yourself considering you have a sweet tooth, which could be really extreme sometimes. he stands still next to you, amused by how cute you are, getting all excited by all these sweets you’re about to eat as you tell the the guy the flavors you want.

the server hands you two of their fresh brown sugar bubble milk tea & pink box that contains lots of sugar and of course, you happiness. afterwards, he declars the total for all the things you order. you’re about to tap in your debit card that’s covered with hello kitty skin when jungkook’s black card is already approved on the chip card reader.

“you didn’t have to koo” you murmur. your man always insists on paying for everything,

“i want too”

he does things for you not because he’s going to gain something or that he’s expecting some type of return from you. Rather, he does them solely because he loves you and he loves seeing you getting all the things you want.

for the meantime ,you look for a table that you two can sit at, particularly a spot where there’s a cute background since you would like to take some photos.

immediately, your eyes spot the perfect table right next to the huge windows to sit and take pictures in. you swiftly walk over the spot and your boyfriend follows you like a lost puppy.

“kook can you take pictures of me here?” you ask, while unwrapping the thick jacket around your waist and position yourself on the stool chair.

jungkook unlocks the camera on his phone, positions the cellular in your desired angle, and clicks the white button multiple times. he casually looks at the camera screen and looks up to you. when he notices that by the way your sitting is slightly showing your ass, and instantly goes up to you to fix it. you’re confused at first by his sudden action but you soon realize why.

“oops, thank you kookie” you chortle

when he goes back to his previous standing position, he catches the same annoying server maliciously staring at you, in a way that’s very unpleasant to him, which just pisses him off more. nevertheless, he captures photos of your adorable face while attempting to drink your favorite bubble tea for the camera. then, he passes his phone so you can review the images.

‘he’s such a great photographer’you thought. these picture will be posted on your pink themed finsta.

“can we go now?” jungkook harsly rushed. this place is alright, but that fucking server is just making his blood boils. he needs to get you two out of here before he does something not pretty.

you read his sudden unusual behavior and chose not to argue. you really loved this place, but you can understand that your boyfriend is too tired and just wanted to sleep. you’ll definitely come back though.

“wait koo, I'll use their restroom first.” you excuse yourself, feeling the need to change the menstrual pad that you’re wearing, you fear bleeding through jungkook’s leather seats.

you did your business pronto. unexpectedly when you walked out of the restroom, the friendly worker corners you, with something in his hand.

“miss, would you like to have this?” He offers the cute and huge hello kitty boba plushie that is in his grip. your eyes widening as they gaze upon the lovely thing. “I noticed your phone case and I thought this is perfect for you” he shyly adds as he scratches the back of his head, pointing out the pink Hello Kitty case you have.

“sure! how much is it?” you respond with full of energy. this plush will be added to your collection.

“don’t worry about it,here” he extends the plushie towards you, gesturing that you should take it.

you look for some type of unseriousness in his eyes but you found none. he does seem nice. you accept the cute plushie that’s waiting for you to be held, hugging it really tight.

“you’re really cute. do you mind if I get your number?” the man in front of you speaks. “so i can give you more plushies for free of course” he further explains, trying to convince you to give him your digits

but you remember what jungkook once said, and that is never give any other men your number. Although you can’t grasp why he doesn’t want you to do that, you listen to him because you don’t want to get him all sad and mad at you. angry jungkook is the least thing you want to deal with. he turns really cold and you hate not getting affection from him.

“I'm sorry but I can't give you my number. thanks for this though.” you give him a weak smile. you also hate the feeling of rejecting people but you also don’t want to get in trouble.

the friendly expression that the guy has been erased and replaced with a blank expression, as if ‘no’ isn’t the right answer. he snarls before speaking “Is it because of your punk boyfriend? c'mon pretty girl he doesn’t have to kno-“

“who doesn’t have to know what?” a familiar voice cuts off the man you’re facing before you can understand what the previous man just said.

jungkook approaches you, snatching the plushy in your grasp. “where did you get this from?” he sternly asks. he might have known the answer, it’s so obvious from what it looks like, but he needs to make sure before he beats somebody’s ass.

“koo he gav-“ that was enough for jungkook to vigorously slam the plushy back onto that guy’s chest, making the man flinch and slightly back off. “look or talk to my woman one more time and things will get ugly for you” he threatens, giving the guy the most serious stare, the same stare he has when fighting in the boxing ring.

without saying anything, he grabs your hand sternly and you two walk out the store. you still didn’t get why jungkook didn’t want you to have that plushie, it was perfect to add to your collection.

the entire car ride back to your place was awfully quiet. you offer to drive back home when you notice that he’s speeding and seems so tense, but jungkook refuses, telling you that he’s fully capable of driving back with a somber tone.. his tattooed hands aren’t where they’re supposed to be placed, your thigh. but you argue no further, not wanting to make him more angry than he already is.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆

hours later, you’re gathering the sleepwear you’ll wear for tonight before hopping in the shower, which is currently occupied by your boyfriend. usually, you two always shower together whenever you’re sleeping at his place and vice versa, but tonight you received no invitation from him since he’s giving you silent treatment for an unknown reason.

despite the fact, you made up your mind to join him as you enter the steamy bathroom, the warm atmosphere welcomes you while you close the door behind you.

your gaze meets jungkook’s tall muscular figure, his tattooed arm up against the white wall, while head is pointing down as the hot water that’s coming from the showerhead runs down his body.

quietly strip down your clothes, you proceed to open the sliding shower door and step inside the shower, closing the distance between you and him.

jungkook faintly flinched as he felt a pair of dainty arms wrapped around his bare torso. he knew exactly who they belonged to, his loved one.

he slightly turns his head, just to see you, hopelessly showing affection towards him in the midst of washing the negative internal thoughts out of his system.

“are you mad at me baby?” you worriedly ask, overthinking that you might have done something that might upset him or maybe he’s too stressed out on his non-stop training schedule since his competitions are coming soon or maybe he can’t handle being with you anymore. lots of maybe but communication is the only way you will know how he feels.

the question of yours sends a sharp pang of guilt in his chest. you completely did nothing wrong. he knows for a fact you can’t say no to anyone who gives you a Hello Kitty plushie. your tiny little head just can’t comprehend that these guys want something in return for giving you things you love to collect. you’re too good for your own.

now he feels like a total idiot, another part of him feels guilty for the sudden shift in his behavior, solely because he's so in love with you that he can’t stand seeing men look at your way.

you did nothing wrong. nothing at all. you’re just so goddamn beautiful that your boyfriend is starting to lose it.

he can’t help but let the possessiveness take over him as soon as he perceives other guys showing their interest in his pretty girl. the woman he desires to keep to himself for the rest of this lifetime, the next one, and for many more

jungkook crowds you up against the cold marble wall just after he turns his buff body to face you. wasting no time, he leaves smooches on your pouty lips and jaw. “didn’t I tell you I'm the only one who can give you hello kitty stuff?” he sensually whispers to your right ear, continuing to give you wet kisses. “hmm?”

“but why?” you pout, resulting in the kisses to come to stop. he looks at you directly in the eyes, “because i’m your boyfriend and that job is solely for me” he simply explains

“but koo it was for free, he was really nice but then he started asking for my number so he could give me more but i didn’t give it to him because you specifically instructed me not to.” you mindlessly babble, explaining your side all in one sentence. simultaneously, you grab the white loofa next to the pink one and apply jungkook’s favorite body wash. it still doesn’t make sense to you. you love collecting hello kitty, but the love you have for the man in front of you is significantly greater.

oh jungkook is really going to lose it. that fucker had the audacity to ask you shit like that right when you’re with him.

“and that’s why I don’t want you talking to them, they want to take advantage of you” he takes a deep breath

“i’m sorry kook” you mutter, attempting to cuddle his naked form.

“i know something was off with that motherfucker” he starts off, “keeps looking at you in a way i don’t appreciate” he finally admits, with his tone hinting a pinch of jealousy. “and that fucking plush- he’s getting on my fucking nerves.”

“all he can do is look koo” you laugh. “Besides, I’m already cuffed by my hot boyfriend. what more can I possibly look for?” your words declaring that your eyes are only fixed to him. there’s no reason to look at other men anyways.

“you’re only mine right?” he just needs to directly hear those words come out of your mouth.

“only yours” you murmur. and that reassured him. for now.

you stand on your tiptoe to kiss his cute nose, from there you smack your lips against his as your smooth palms trace his jawline.

as seconds goes by, the desire to express how much you love him is rapidly growing. you want him. you need him.

you detach your lips against his, just to fixate them on his neck, right on the pretty tiny mole on his skin, your favorite spot. your hand does its own job to explore his sculpted body, finding its way to palm his painful growing erection.

he knows where this is going

your kisses trail from his upper chest to his defined abs; so brawny and delicious. he follows your gesture, finding you on your knees, beneath him, your beautiful face positioned right in front of his hardening cock.

oh this is the one and only circumstance he would kill and die for to be in.

jungkook knows that sly grin expression you wear as you look up with those round doll eyes. purposely, your both arms push against each other to give him a good view of your perky breast squeezed together. with his shaft twitching, can’t help but to utter an uncontrollable moan from seeing you like this.

“can I?” you ask softly, waiting for permission from him as if you’re not in this sinful position at least twice every time you two spend time together. no matter what, you still drool by just staring at his cock as if it’s your favorite lollipop.

he quietly hums and nods his head while nibbling his lip piercings, giving you the green light.

you start off slow, giving his pretty pink tip covered with precum small pecks. smearing the liquid around your lips, pretending it as if it’s one of your lip gloss, making them nice and glossy.

sweet

“i only wanna do this with you” you hungrily voice out in each swift peck while locking your seductive eyes on his.

he brings his fingers towards your jaw, lifting your chin up. “open” he commands, directing you to open your mouth. and so you did, without hesitation. a hot glob of spit falls into your tongue, which turns you on even more. you quickly swallow it and resume with what you’re doing.

he continues to watch you as your swollen lips slowly wrap his thick cock. your mouth is solely made for jungkook as it welcomes him inch by inch. although sucking him becomes a part of your daily routine, you still need to take a sweet time adjusting to his length.

irresistible tears roll down your face as he hits the back of your throat for the first few times, but you’re so determined to make him feel good. you began bobbing your head back and forth as your mouth slowly adjusted to his size.

“hmm, so good baby” he muffles weakly. “j-just like that” almost sounds as if he’s about to cry from the incredible sensation.

you can’t help but to release a quiet whine from hearing him. the steamy bathroom is filled with jungkook's angelic yet sinful groans, along with the sounds that’s being created as you which arouse you even more. he’s got your pussy clenching over nothing.

your bent knees on the cold and wet ground are starting to get tired, but you pay no attention to them. rather, you take him even more, until his tip hits the back of your throat. you continue to do it smoothly, using no hands.

you proceed to shift your attention to untouched balls. your tiny hand softly jerks off his length upward, as a trail of kisses made their way from the underside of his girthy and veiny cock to one of the oval-shaped organs. wet and loud smooches on jungkook’s sensitive skin turn to sloppy sucking. your mouth is so full of him. a mixture of his precum and saliva of yours covers your entire chin, even some of it drops on the ground.

this sequence stirs more moans from jungkook, but this time he gets louder and louder. his slender hands acts at its own and gather your length hair into a ponytail, just so he can manipulate your head, to use you however he pleases

Jungkook pulls your hair back, causing you to lose contact with the sac you were passionately lapping. he leads you mouth back to where it should give its focus to. his throbbing cock. once his dewy dick is shoved in you, he pushes your cock drunk head to take more of him. you obediently follow the flow of the hand guiding your head

“such a good girl” he grunts, throwing his head up in the air, then focusing back on you. “only for me”. your boyfriend is still controlling your head bobbing on his length.

“you’re such a slut for a fucking hello kitty, aren’t you?” jungkook mocks in between deep breaths. “me or that stupid kitty cat? huh?” thrusting his hips into your messy and well-fucked face.

you just moan against him, not even bothering to answer him because you’re too fucked, your tiny little brain is wearing out as you keep bouncing your head up and down. and also it might be because you know for a fact that you could be a slut for hello kitty too sometimes. you’re in no position to protest.

the man above you grips your hair even tighter, demanding you to answer him. “I wanna hear you baby”

“‘mmh you, o-only you koo,” you sob. lots and lots of tears coming out of your eyes. “all I want is you and this cock” you mewl weakly as you desperately lap his precious tip, just like how he loves it.

“that’s it, pretty girl, I'm cummin’” he verbalizes, grasping your head forcibly as slamming his pelvis into your abused mouth. to this point, you feel dizzy and your whole body is worn out. you grip into his beefy thighs as you allow him to utilize you like a slut.

“hmpp f-fuck” he moans loudly, releasing abundant strings of semen into your mouth. he cums so deep inside your throat. not wanting a drop to fall, you gobble up everything as your life depends on them.

after swallowing, you show him your empty mouth, with tongue being out. you can see in his half lidded eyes that he’s proud, giving you a soft smile.

you were about to get up when all of a sudden the dizzy spell hits you real hard, causing you to lose your balance but jungkook catches you before you can even fall.

“hey, you okay? Did I go too hard?” he locks his gaze upon you, hoping that you will lock yours to him too. but you didn’t as you are sobbing and trembling a little bit. jungkook wipes the dries tears on your swollen face with one hand while the other wraps around your waist. he might have gone harder than you can handle.

“baby look at me please? did I hurt you? i'm sor—“

“koo i’m okay” you faintly cut his sentence off. he doesn’t need to be sorry. “just need a few minutes to recover” you explain. jungkook immediately understands that. he gives you minutes of peaceful silence, with that, he takes care of washing your body. gently rubbing the pink loofah in your smooth skin as he hums the song that’s been stuck in your brain for quite a while.

after showering, he helps you slip on your baby pink dainty nightgown. this dress is special. jungkook got it for you when he flew abroad for one of his boxing competitions. one day, he and his team were strolling around the fancy mall when he passed by a cute local lingerie store that you will definitely check out, only if you were with him. of course, he chose to follow what his heart tells him to do, to go inside and find a thing or two to give you as soon as he comes home. to you.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆

both yours and jungkook’s bodies are situated on your twin sized bed. in spite of the fact that there’s not much for the two of you and one of you might fall on the ground if another moves a little, it’s not a hurdle as you two embrace each other’s warmth as if there’s no tomorrow. two bodies comfortably embracing one another. tonight, you’re designated to be the tiny spoon

“ggukie..” you murmur, hot breath fanning against his bare chest. “hmm??” jungkook looks down to see what his princess needs.

“want your cock”you weakly pleaded, causing the man to slightly chuckle. you must be out of your mind.

“baby, your body is tired” said by him, shaking his head to show his disapproval. what a silly idea that goes around your mind when your eyes can barely open. you’re really out here doing everything but to sleep. he continues to caress your soft hair.

on a side note, you and jungkook never had penetrative sex before. yes, he eats you out here and there and vice versa. but he never dares to insert himself inside you.

indeed you’re a virgin but it’s not that you never wanted to. matter of fact you’ve made up your mind and are willing to give your virginity to him. jungkook is well aware of that. however, fear of hurting you always troubles him. he’s afraid that you will go through pain, scared that he’ll break you: his fragile pretty girl

“need your cock inside me” you continue to whine. “didn’t I show you a video of me from last week taking the toy you gifted me? you said I did so well” reminding him that one video clip of you masturbating to the pink rose you got from him. how could he forget about that when he uses it to get off every single night? with full on volume too, all ears concentrate on your high pitched moans, giving him more than the satisfaction he craves. the thoughts of that makes the lust that nearly vanishes inside him linger, you just never fail to get him arouse even before going to sleep.

however, jungkook is still in his right mind. “that’s different,” he argues. it’s valid to doubt that he’ll fit.

“ok then just put it in me then we can sleep?” you beg, attempting to compromise. “just wanna feel you close while I sleep. can you imagine how much I missed you?” you’ve come to an extent to use the guilt trip tool to convince him.

he understands the emotion you’re trying to make him feel as he looks into your bambi doe eyes. looking so innocent yet begging for his cock. evoking his guilt to get what you want. jungkook recognizes you in and out, you won’t take no for an answer. also it’s not like he’s not dying to do it, as if he doesn’t fantasize about it when you sleep over at his penthouse. the amount of self control he has..

you have him on a chokehold. jungkook doesn’t say anything, rather he gently lifts up the arm which your head is laying on and slightly gets up to open the pink mini cabinet on top of your nightstand, taking out a sky blue container.

“here, apply it”, throwing the lube bottle on your lap.

you’re stunned, heart excitedly does jumping jacks inside your chest. next time it will be you doing jumping jacks on his di-

“cmon cutie I don’t have all night” he blurts, interrupting your thoughts. you never get up so fast in your nineteen years of living. he goes straight back to his original position, laid on his back. he may act chill,but he’s internally pleased and aroused.

as you go down on him (again), your two hands get a grip of the band of his black boxer and pull it down, his semi-hard cock immediately springs out. you can’t help but to give it a tiny peck before giving it a few strokes as you point it towards your lips

you open the bottle up with a pop, squirting out enough lube on your fingers before gently spreading it on his tip. he hisses as he feels the cold liquid substance being applied to him. you trace the sides of his length, ensuring the reduction of friction.

he grabs your arm, guiding your body to lay down sideways next to him. a tattooed veiny arm from behind snakes around your torso, clasping your upper body.

“ready?” he whispers, as he nibbles your ear. jungkook earns longingly nods from you, and for a split moment he spreads some liquid using his lubricated tip around your private area before slowly inserting it in. you discern the penetrating sensation in your core, which makes you purr.

he continues to penetrate inside you furthermore, causing you to close your eyes and tighten your clasp on his arms as you bear with the ache. he fully aware of how you’re feeling as he’s also having a hard time moving in.

“bare with me baby” tensely reassuring you. “so t-tight, fuck.” his other arm makes its journey below your nightgown, traveling its way to your perky breast, delicately squeezing one of them. jungkook does the same and gives the attention to the other one. simultanously, he plants a few smooches on the skin behind your ear, attemping to distract you from the pain. you quietly release moans and groans as he continues. he’s inches in when he feels your wall clenching around him.

your tight pussy becomes jungkook’s personal paradise. it’s the way your walls are clenching around him is better than he imagined; unmatched from all the fantasy he creates in his mind about you.

“koo.. “ your fingers tracing the veins on the back of his palm.

“what? my baby can’t handle it? tell me and I’ll stop” he softly asks. a tear just drops from you leg but you’re too tired to even react.

“n-no just stay inside, i’m sleepy” and with that, you instantly drift to sleep.

he hums, a hand that was busy playing on your chest shifts to caress your hair. jungkook lays one last kiss at your temple.

“goodnight to you too my pretty girl, love you so much”

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brrrkdslek · 5 days ago

Text

a moment of vulnerability

SYNOPSIS ✶ "nothing haunts us like the things we don't say." –unknown

PAIRING ✶ ateez x 9th member! male! reader

GENRE ✶ ot9 au, angst to comfort

WARNINGS ✶ trauma, deadbeat father, death

YINGLES' NOTE ✶ guess who's back after almost half a year lamaoaooa

it's practice time once again. you've- well, all of ateez have been darting all over the place from the company to interviews to music shows, and you haven't been able to catch a break.

you desperately want to calm the raging sea in your heart, but the other members have it hard as well, so what benefit would it bring if you were to vent and rant to anyone of the members?

not to mention how composed hongjoong and seonghwa has been, you can't fall behind them, you just can't.

so what you plan to do is just get it over with, hurry up with practice and go back to the dorms to finally rest on your nice and fluffy pillows.

"... and three, four and five- wooyoung, you're supposed to be over here." you mark blankly as you point to the left side behind you where an empty space was.

"oh, crap- sorry noona, i can't seem to get these steps right..." wooyoung chuckles dryly, trying to lighten up the mood despite your stern and unmoving expression.

"no, i feel you. noona, don't you think you should slow down a bit...?" san offered, not wanting to touch a nerve. "i agree," seonghwa piqued, "maybe we should take a break first, i think you need one too m/n."

the man smiled gently as the members all went over to the water bottles and began to drink their beverages. you tapped your feet against the floorboard and bit your nails, they've already became rough and callous from how much your teeth has been abusing them over the weeks.

"hyung? i just wanna ask-" yeosang cuts himself off when he sees you sweating profusely and lips becoming paler, "h-hey, you okay?" his face contorts into one of worry.

you came back to your senses before clearing your throat, "sorry yeo, what's— what did you need?" you ask again. "as i was saying..." yeosang begins slowly, though his expression holds one of worry and suspicion.

practice, shows, recording.

that's all you had to get done under this month, it's only started but you can't seem to relax. it's only three simple words but somehow you found the actions more complex and annoying. you also can't seem to focus on yeosang's question.

you began to sweat again as your heart rate sped up, why were you feeling so stressed? why are they all lounging as if we're on vacation?

you couldn't wrap your head around it, and you couldn't calm your raging breaths either. as yeosang waited for a response, his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he asks once again, waving a hand in front of your face.

the action makes your head spin even more. you wanted him to stop, your mouth opening and closing but no words come out. you felt a migraine slowly come but you just weren't able to find your voice.

suddenly you slap his hand away, the loudness of the skin collision makes yeosang shocked, along with the other members who turned their head upon the sound.

and for a moment, it was silent. everyone had the same thought running through their heads, including yours. 'he has never raises his hand against any of us.'

"fuck- sorry yeo, are you okay...?" you ask nervously as you reached out, only for the man to pull further back, the action alone makes your heart break, but further when his soft eyes stare at you in fear.

hongjoong steps up and pats yeosang's shoulder as his stinging hand falls to his side awkwardly, "hey, what's going on?" the man asks, not really able to comprehend the situation as of now.

your mind drifts back to an instagram reel you saw a few nights ago. 'the abused becomes the abuser', 'the manipulated becomes the manipulator'.

was that possible? were you really evolving- no, devolving, into him? that wretched man who clung to your blood like a parasite, the man that made you worse and better than you ever were before.

your fa- "hey m/n!" hongjoong snaps a finger in your face, bringing you back to reality. "what's going on? you okay? do you need something?" the bombard of questions makes your head spin.

you stumble back and hold onto the rail, surprising all the members as you began to pant, hand going to hold your head from your swirling thoughts.

stress, anxiety, worry.

stress, anxie- wait, are you even breathing? could you breathe? god, the air in here is so stuffy — the practice room was smaller than you imagined now that you looked at it seriously.

ugh, your stomach was churning really badly. did you even eat enough this morning? no- i mean how could you? how could you possibly stomach food when you're having a panic attack?

panic attack...?

you dry heaved before your hand comes up to cup over your mouth, eyes scanning the now blurry members who were slowly coming closer before you rushed out of the practice room and threw up in the middle of the hall by the wall.

you slid down on your knees your breakfast and all the bullshit you ate from yesterday hits the ground, leaving your stomach empty, just like your head now.

you wiped the spit from your lips and swallowed, the bitter taste of barf filling your tongue as your face cringes and mind swirling.

upon seeing the figures of your members rushing towards the hallway, your eyes gave out before you passed out onto the ground.

enveloped in darkness, you saw a silhouette of a woman, your mother. you could always recognise her from anywhere, not because of the pink she always adorned — well, maybe. but you could never perfectly describe the reason why.

everyone's always complimented how similar you two looked, and you always became happy when that comment came.

you wanted to be just like her — so you grew out your hair, changed your personality and acted in line. that wasn't the real reason, but it was what you told your members.

maybe it was because deep in the back of your mind, you knew the blood of your deadbeat father ran in your blood, and that there was a possibility- even if it was 1%, that you would end up like him.

you hated the revelation, so in your delusion, you changed yourself, not for the better, but not for the worse either. still, you didn't know.

blood determines nothing. that is a fact itself with the way your father acts and treats you. in his eyes, you are nothing but scum. despite holding the family name and are able to pass the bloodline, he hated you and you never knew why.

though as you grew older, the more he'd raise his hand at you and hold violence as a more superior solution than anything else, that was his way, and you hated it to the bone.

your position now as an idol determines nothing either, it's not guaranteed. no matter how good of a company you come from, a little slip up could let decades of hard work spill down the drain.

just like your little hoobae seunghan, poor boy. he had so much waiting for him just to get thrown out last minute, you weren't sure why but you felt it would happen to you eventually.

maybe because it has happened to you already — not in the exact same way, but gosh did it leave the same traumatic scar it probably left seunghan too.

you wanted to become a writer, a famous one at that. you found comfort in the little letters you'd write on your notebook, creating different stories and scenarios that filled your heart with ease.

your mother was supportive and loved to read some of the short fictions you'd let her read. always giving you that sweet pat on the head and telling you how proud she was.

you looked up to her, amazed at how perfectly she held herself, despite the familial environment your father put you guys through.

but you found out she wasn't as strong as you thought, when she killed herself in the summer of 2012, when you were only 13 year old.

after then, you stopped writing all together. her words suddenly becoming empty when you thought back to it; if she could lie about her feelings, she could lie about her words too.

you never realised, but the pent up hatred for your mother was never hatred in the first place. you only ever felt guilty for not being mature enough for her to express her deepest feelings to you, even if you were only 13.

suddenly, your eyes shot open as a tear rolled down your temple from where you laid. you glanced around the room and recognised it to be your own, with an iv drip connecting to your arm.

before long, jongho comes in with a glass of water and almost drops it when you wake up. he places the glass down gently before sitting at your side.

his eyes are full of worry as they dart all over you, thinking about what to do or say. "jjongie..." you started, though you let out a few coughs at how dry your throat have gotten.

jongho immediately helps you sit up and drink the water, downing the whole glass in one go, almost making the maknae crack a smile if not for your worrying condition.

as he placed the glass down, the man sighs. "...are you ever gonna tell us what happened back there?" he asks slowly, almost sounding ashamed that's the first thing he says to you since you woke up.

but you only blinked before turning to stare up at the ceiling, "eventually, yeah— but what day is it?" you ask instinctively, feeling as if along time had passed.

"it's been a day..." the man replied with a gulp, remembering how fearful all the members were when the doctor says you'll be resting for a while.

you hummed and opened your mouth to speak before your door practically breaks down with the way wooyoung rushed in with tears in his eyes.

"HYUNG!" the man-baby exclaims as he kneels by your bedside and wails on your lap, "oh my god, you're alive!" he cries like a baby as yunho flicks his head, "hey don't jinx it."

a tiny smile graces your lips as you gently ran your fingers through the man's hair, bringing his ever-lasting comfort, just like how your mother has always made you feel.

in just a second, all the members have successfully poured into your room like roaches. and as you caught yeosang, he comes closer at your silent message.

"are you still hurt?" you ask slowly as your free hand caressed the back of his hand, where you'd slap. you knew it didn't hurt, the man could carry two of you without breaking a sweat.

but you just felt like you should ask — you knew mother would've asked if it was here, and the thought alone makes a small smile creep up your lips.

"i'm okay, but are you?" he asks as he takes your hand in his and squeezes it reassuringly, "i think so." you chuckle, suddenly feeling so warm just with the upbeat chattering of your members.

you sigh shakily before bringing yeosang close and hugging the man in your arms. you gently raked your fingers through his hair as your eyes watered.

"hyung's sorry, i never meant to hurt you..." you whispered shakily, the guilt of that painful face yeosang made a day ago making your chest tighten.

the man simply smiled shyly and hugs back, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he replies in a muffled voice. "it's okay, noona. i know you didn't mean it..."

hearing the common nickname of 'noona' makes you release the breath you didn't know you were holding as you sniffled gently before kissing the man's temple.

mingi chuckles, "guys, look at yeosang blush." wooyoung raises his head from where his tears stained your lap before he snorted, "he's bright red!"

yeosang blushes harder and yanks himself away from you in embarrassment. "am not! your eyes are redder than mine, you're the one who's crying like a little kid."

you smile upon the familiar scene of the boys bickering and bantering amongst each other, it's refreshing, seeing your members so relaxed and happy.

hongjoong sitting at your side catches your attention before you turn back towards him with a kind smile and he smiles back, what a captain.

"you don't have to tell us what's going on, but just know that we're here for you if you ever need us." he marks before grasping your hand and intertwining your fingers without anyone noticing.

"even though i'd like it to be only me," the man jokes, making you snort softly, "everyone else here loves you just the same, so don't keep everything bottled up."

a sudden laugh leaves your lips as the members go silent, turning to watch you with curiosity as you laugh your heart out, warming their hearts as well.

'if only mother was surrounded by this much love back then, maybe she would've been able to see me grow into the writer she hoped i'd become.'

#brrrkdslek 📁: oneshots #brrrkdslek 🖇️: 9th member m/n #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #san x reader #seonghwa x reader #wooyoung x reader #hongjoong x reader #jongho x reader #yeosang x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x reader

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east-from-west · 1 month ago

Text

,,Family, Luke. You promised.''

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The Lightning Thief fight/betrayal scene, rewritten.

TW// minor depictions of blood and violence, one curse word.

(A/N) It's a mix of the show/book. This is not a slash fic. Percy and Luke are both 12 and 19 respectively. All affection expressed is platonic. Please don't read as slash.

𓇼 🌊 🐚(Villains and violence/Infants and innocents/Baby, both arms cradle you now/both arms cradle you now) ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

Luring a 12 year old into the woods with Coke. Gods, Luke felt like a monster.

"Come on," Luke grinned as convincingly as he could, "drinks are on me." Luke held up the six pack of Coke. He hoped his face didn't betray his intentions. Luke could see the wary look in Percy's eyes begin to fade. Sugar and caffeine was any ADHD kid's weakness.

"Sure." Percy nods. "Why not?"

'Why not'. What a question. 'Because I'm about to hurt you,' Luke thought bitterly, his smile twisting into more of a grimace that was trying to pass as a smile.

They walked down to the creek were Percy had broken Clarisse's spear. Killing the kid in the spot of one of his first victories made that small part of Luke ache even more. Something in him screams to turn back now, to go shoo the kid off to the training arena or his cabin and just leave. Leave, leave now and not hurt him more than the world already had.

Unfortunately, Kronos' order was clear.

Percy yapped about the quest while sipping his Coke, so blissfully unaware of what's about to happen.

What Luke is about to do to him.

"You sound like you miss it." Luke comments, trying to keep his tone light, but a hint of bitterness seeped in, like a dark cloud marring an otherwise sunny sky.

"With monsters trying to kill me every five seconds?" Percy scoffed, but he didn't sound particularly opposed to it. Luke raised a brow. "Okay, yeah," Percy crumbled and admits with a small grin, "You?"

Luke drained the rest of his coke before answering, looking off into the trees with darkened eyes. "I've lived here year round since I was fourteen. Trained and trained and trained, never really got to be a normal teen out in the world." He shrugged. Luke continued before Percy could respond.

"Then they tossed me one quest and that was it. 'Good job, Luke. Ride's over, have a good rest of your life.'" Luke crumpled the can and tossed it into the creek. Percy gave him a shocked look.

You don't litter at Camp Halfblood. The nymphs and naiads make that clear, with their little revenges on the careless campers who cluttered their homes with garbage. Not that Luke really had to worry about that anymore.

"To hell with it all. I'm not going to be a pawn reduced to a dusty trophy in the Big House attic." Luke said darkly, staring at the crumpled can in the water.

"You make it sound like you're leaving." Pecy comments, voice a very forced casual. Underneath the veil, Luke could hear a bit of trepidation and disappointment in the kid's voice.

Percy didn't want him to leave. Percy thought Luke was his friend, he didn't want his friend to leave.

Luke finally looked back over at Percy, trying for a smile but ending with a twisted grimace.

"I am." He said simply. "So this is goodbye." His tone was dark, colder. Colder than only Luke could be.

Something in Percy's eyes shifted. "Oh gods."

Luke almost couldn't, with Percy's small and horrified realization.

''You will be betrayed by someone who calls you a friend.''

"I-it was you! Luke, it was you?" His blue eyes widened. "You stole the bolt, you worked with Ares to pin it on me!" Percy's hand reached for his sword. "S-so when the shoes you gave me would pull me down into Tartarus, the bolt would be delivered straight to Kro--"

"Careful with names, Percy." Luke cut him off sharply. Percy took a step back, eyes wide with betrayal.

"I am your friend, none of this was to betray you." Luke lied, stepping forward with his hands raised placatingly. Percy uncapped Riptide, clutching the holt tightly. Luke drew Backbiter in kind.

No doubt the kid had gotten better with his sword, and Luke wouldn't be caught unarmed. "Easy. I dont wanna fight. The gods are my enemy, Percy, our enemy." Luke's tone turned soft, like he was speaking to an upset child. "You, I'm here to recruit."

"Recruit?" Percy repeated in disbelief. Luke turned the hilt of Backbiter to show him a glowing blue symbol.

"This is our way out of here. Backbiter can open dorrways, we can stay on the move for however long--"

"Don't say we." Percy cuts him off. "Luke," his voice turned a bit pleading, "The Gods are our parents."

"And what? I'm supposed to love them because of that?" Luke scoffs harshly. "They're bad parents. All they want is for us to worship them and do all their little 'quests'. Their dirty work." He spits.

Percy shook his head, "I met your dad--"

That's all it took. Luke swung his sword, only to be caught by Riptide in very hasty parry. Luke slashed downwards, only for the swords to meet in an engagement. Luke couldn't help but grin.

"You have gotten better. Last chance."

Percy freed Riptide from the engagement and kicked Luke's shin to make him stumble. The older swordsman kept his footing and swung at Percy's head, meeting air as Percy ducked and slashed at Luke's ribs.

Luke gasped and turned away, holding the already bloody cut. Percy froze. "I'm sorry--" His voice cracked out, reaching out for Luke's arm.

Luke hissed and swung around, bearing his blade down hard and cutting Percy's sword arm deep. The 12 year old cried out and stumbled back to the ground, breath knocked from his lungs.

Percy scrambled back, panting in pain and fear as Luke approached his fallen figure, eyes dark with vitrol and violence.

"Luke..." Percy gasped quietly, voice breaking as tears stung the back if his eyes, both from the pain in his arm and the pain of the betrayal. He looked like a rabit cornered as a wolf closed in.

Luke raised Backbiter for one final and silencing blow. Percy yelped and raised a hand to protect his head.

Luke froze, eyes clearing to take in the sight in front if him. Percy, bleeding and panicked on the ground, fighting tears as his blue eyes gazed up at Luke in terror.

He looked like Thalia. Oh gods.

Oh Gods.

Luke truly was a monster, wasn't he?

Luke swallowed back the nausea that suddenly rose in his throat, arm shaking, still poised to strike.

"Luke..." Percy repeats, voice trembling. "I-I know this isn't you. This isn't you, please fight it." He begged, voice cracking again.

'Do it, do it now, he's defenseless, do it, do i--' the voice in Luke's head screamed in futility. Luke dropped his arm, sword falling from his hand as he stepped back.

Luke was a monster. He'd have killed Percy. He'd have killed this poor kid who'd only wanted his mom back from the Gods in the first place.

Luke clamped a hand over his mouth to stave off the rolling sick feeling, tears welling in his own eyes.

Percy didn't ask for any of this. He'd just wanted his mom back.

He just wanted his mom back.

Luke knew the feeling.

"Oh gods, I--" Luke choked, eyes falling to Percy's arm. The cut was deep, already soaking the torn fabric of Percy's flannel. "Ohhh Gods." The older boy felt panic squeeze his chest.

What was he doing?

Something dark and hateful in Luke's heart crumbled, and his head cleared. He kicked away Backbiter and knelt next to Percy. The boy flinched, still obviously scared of Luke.

"Hey, hey, let me see." Luke said gently, voice oh so soft. He gently took Percy's arm, pulling him into a sitting position and nudging Percy's hand away from the wound.

By now, Percy was stunned into utter silence, fat tears still rolling down his cheeks. Luke looked at the cut, gently pulling the flannel off his shoulder and arm. The cut was deep, irritated with red still dripping out of it. Luke felt the rolling feel of panic and sick double down in his gut.

"Oh gods, Percy, Perce, I am so sorry--" Luke's voice broke into a barely concealed sob. He cupped a hand to Percy's cheeks, wiping a tear with his thumb, smearing a streak of red there. "We're going to move over to the creek, okay? Water helps, right? It'll help."

Percy nodded numbly, holding onto Lukes shirt as the older teen dragged him down into the pebbly bank of the small stream. The water instantly flowed up Percy's arm, stitching flesh skin back together and washing away the blood. Despite this, there was still a narly scar left behind.

Left by Luke's own hand. Oh Gods. Oh gods, oh gods--

Did Luke hate the Gods more than he had cared about Percy's life? About Grover's, or even Annabeth's--

His heart squeezed in his chest and he coughed out a sob, pulling Percy in close. "I am so, so sorry. I swear on the styx, I am so sorry--" He mumbled into Percy's damp curls, feeling the younger demigod shake against his chest, hands gripping the back of Luke's shirt like a lifeline.

How much a villian Luke was, to be willing to kill this innocent kid.

Kid, Percy was a kid. Only 12, still practically a baby. Not at all old enough for his level of violence. Especially from the hand of someone who called him a ""friend.""

Luke wrapped his arms around Percy tight, one hand cradling the back of his head. "I've got you, I've got you. I am so sorry, I won't hurt you anymore." Luke whispered into Percy's curls, kissing his head.

"Promise? You promise?" Percy whispered, voice hoarse and utterly exhausted.

"I... I promise. I promise, I swear on the Styx, on my life," Luke swore. "Family. I promise."

Family. Percy slumps into Luke, exhausted and all the fight drained from him.

Luke cradled him close, holding him safe to his chest.

Family. Luke promised.

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inlovewithpandora · 2 years ago

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- Avatar Masterlist -

Notes - Navigation // Avatar Taglist // New + Updated Masterlist (please click this to see my new list)

Started - 4/6/23 || Last Updated - 8/29/23 || Total Works - 31

Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are highly appreciated🩷!

Omatikaya

▸ Jake Sully

▸ Neytiri Sully

▸ Neteyam Sully

▸ Kiri Sully

▸ Lo’ak Sully

▸ Tuktirey Sully

▸ Tsu’tey

▸ Sully Family

Metkayina

▸ Tonowari

▸ Ronal

▸ Tsireya

▸ Ao’nung

▸ Rotxo

▸ Ralak

Inspiration from: @teyamsbitch

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cocrante · 1 year ago

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#13 Bed Sharing

[flufftober 2023]

note: initially, there were two other oneshots on the list (found family - confession), but let's say I had already written a little something about them and for this occasion I'm exploring different scenarios to decide whether to incorporate them into the fanfiction or not :)

tag: @choicesprompts

THE FOOD WAS EXQUISITE, and so was the wine. If he continued to indulge him with all those aromas, flavors, and sugary phrases while serving, he would never be able to tell him "no". Not that this was a bad thing after all, he didn't just want to give him that feeling of control over his life, he hoped to continue to be wrapped in that subtle veil of mystery that still surrounded him, even though it seemed to be getting thinner, and his defenses were slowly coming down.

Maybe it was the wine that was dulling his senses, making him feel lighter, exposed, vulnerable. But in that house, in the company of his lover, there were no dangers. It was fine like this, he could handle another glass of wine, paired with the delicate fragrance of the new dish he had served. The steam tickled him, the spices were a sensual delight that enveloped him with every bite, and the meat was among the softest and most delicate he had ever tasted. The man sitting in front of him had truly peculiar manners, but when he entered the kitchen, he transformed every ingredient into a symphony of flavors, carefully layering and pairing them, creating a story on his palate. That evening, he was tasting the symphony of winter. Assuming winter had a melody or a taste. The only taste that came to Neuvillette's mind when thinking of winter was sugar, but these dishes were all savory, warm, and comforting foods. It was the flavor of people at home, wrapped in blankets as the night descended outside. He would never get enough of those dishes, of the food that left him feeling content and elated. Yet, happiness wasn't solely a result of those dishes, but also of the company and complicity that had developed with the man who had prepared them. During daylight hours, it seemed impossible to him that an old man could still experience such emotions, thinking they were a privilege of young boys who experiment with their peers. He had already had his dose of adventures, he was no longer a young and inexperienced boy. His life had been generous at times, and those memories were just that: memories. So why, in the evening when that man was at home, did he feel like he was burning as if he were a third of his age? He still felt like a schoolboy dealing with his first crush, with the only difference being that there were no more mysteries, and everything was clear now. It was tender of the man giving him a second chance, giving him a new love, more warmth, and kindness that he believed would no longer be a part of his life, nor would he have to deserve them anymore. Hoping deep down that it wasn't too hasty to think this, but he felt genuine feelings for the man who had reignited his life. It was probably too early to talk about love, even though perhaps it was so for the other, but for Neuvillette it was romantic affection. At the moment, it was all he could grant and give, and he knew that Wriothesley was fine taking it slow. Both were no longer young, his man also had a daughter, and they had their fair share of youthful escapades. So what was wrong with taking it all lightly? And enjoying the simplicity of their relationship.

Smiling, he reached out his hand, intertwining his fingers with those of his lover. "Thank you for inviting me" Neuvillette said, gazing affectionately at the man. "You are and will always be welcome" he replied, playing with his fingers as well. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked, noticing that the plate was practically empty. "It was all delicious. How do you make everything taste so good?" he inquired, even though he didn't think he'd get an answer. However, Wriothesley smiled. "Honey makes everything better" he stifled a laugh. "Honey?" a note of incredulity escaped his lips. "Yes, sir" he confirmed. "It draws out the subtlest aromas and nuances of the herbs" he explained, closing his hand over his companion's as if it were a treasure chest closing around its treasure. "It's also an excellent carrier for them, it moves through the meat fibers more gracefully than salt" he continued, although his attention was on the man's hand, caressing the delicate skin with care and attention, leaving Neuvillette only time to breathe with desire, biting his lips still flavored with the taste of the meat. That man enchanted him with every move, word, gesture, he was speechless in his presence, and it wasn't the wine's fault. Whatever he asked, he would have answered yes. "I hope you have some room left for dessert" with that sentence, Neuvillette was brought back to reality. "If you don't mind, I wanted to experiment a little" he kissed his hand, taking his leave for a moment, disappearing into the kitchen, leaving him alone at the table to compose himself. He nervously passed his hands over his cheeks, which felt warm and undoubtedly embarrassed. That man knew exactly what to say and do to have free access to both his heart and soul. He was succeeding, but Neuvillette wasn't stopping him. He wanted to play that masochistic game of languid glances, caresses, and small provocations as well. Although between the two of them, he would certainly be the first to give in, not that it was a bad thing. Many times, Wriothesley had told him that in life, everyone deserves a second chance to love again, and he said it himself, even though he was a divorced dad with a job that occupied most of his life. Yet, he was giving himself a new chance to love and be loved. It shouldn't be the opposite for Neuvillette either. But sometimes, the guilt for a nonexistent betrayal devoured him, still too bound and tied to the shadow of the man who had filled his past. He was caressed by that sweet memory, it wasn't wrong to turn the page. It was right to seek refuge, comfort, and even new love in the arms of others. At the end of that thought, the chef returned to the table with two delightful white plates, each holding a fragrant little cake topped with a whole peeled pear. It was interesting, certainly delicious. The knife sliced through it as if it were made of foam, and the taste of the wine in which the pear was soaked didn't diminish its sweetness but rather enhanced it. And the cake on which it lay wasn't chocolate as his eyes had deceived him, it was something else, sweet, aromatic, fruity—a spice he couldn't quite grasp. After all, he barely used the supermarket's rosemary; everything else was alchemy. But that delicious cake spoke for itself. If winter had a symphony, it was enclosed in those dishes, and if love had a taste, it was encapsulated in the tenderness of that little cake.

After the delicious dinner, he helped him clear the table even though Wriothesley had told him there was no need, but he felt obliged to lend a hand. In the kitchen, washing the dishes, they had fun like two children, playing with the foam and the splashing water droplets. The dinner had been perfect, the company even better, but everything has an end, and so did this magical evening.

"Maybe it's the wine speaking for me, but I feel intoxicated when I'm in your company" Neuvillette laughed, holding his hands, just a few steps from the front door.

"If you're so intoxicated, why don't you stay with me tonight?" Wriothesley murmured, moving closer, playing with those fingers he wanted to feel on his cheek.

"It's only a few steps, I can go home by myself" he smiled, secretly wanting to stay and remain there forever.

"I would like you to stay" he kissed his wrist, his eyes never leaving the man's.

"Are you perhaps taking advantage of an old drunk gentleman?" he laughed to himself, drawing near and pressing himself against the body he was now desiring and burning for, suppressing a sigh when the man's lips touched the hollow of his neck. "I could and I'd eagerly do so" he replied to the teasing, moving his lips up to his ear. "But I just want you to stay" he whispered, making himself let go and taking him by both hands, kissing them like lovers do. "You're being unfair" he complained, eager to have those lips on his skin and feel his flesh against his. "You're right" he smiled, aware that he had dared too much and had also aroused himself. "As punishment, I'll keep you in my bed, so I can be embraced by the most beautiful man in all of Paris and the rest of the world" he caressed his face, adoring that so resentful and frowning expression.

"It seems like a victory for you rather than a punishment" he grumbled, playing along with their absurd game.

"Do you agree to stay?" he asked with a candid and hopeful voice, playing with the fingers of his lover's hands. Neuvillette bit his lip, knowing he couldn't deny anything to the man who had managed to capture his heart. "I agree to stay" he granted, moving closer to give him another kiss, and then another again.

[CONTENTS]

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 13

↬ masterlist

#🖇️ : challenge #🖇️ : oneshot #📌 : wip #wriolette #modern au #family au #genshin impact #wriothesley #neuvillette #choicesprompts #flufftober2023 #ao3 writer #ao3 link #genshin wriothesley #genshin neuvillette

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miyamoratsumuu · 3 months ago

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I feel like I should put up a warning that I'm like in the top 5 most impulsive tumblr posters out there

#BC LIKE #I could not post in more than a week #but then on a random three consecutive days i post and i post #I had like several light bulb moments today #and I can't keep drafts to myself for too long I'm sorry I have no self control #ANYWAY ON THAT NOTE #DABI ONESHOT LATER HIHI #I said it on my a/n in the dabi post but I'm praying to the tumblr gods that rue sees the oneshot when it's posted #i desperately need her opinion on it actually #🖇️frans; [ yaps !! ]

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asvterias · 9 months ago

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AWWW I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS ADDIE!!! ❤️😍🫶🏾

Sad Girl

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: being a mistress on the side might not appeal to fools like you…

a/n: i love this song i love this fic i love this idea and most importantly i love my brain you are all very welcome <3

Sad Girl - Lana Del Rey

warnings: not proofread, secret relationship, player!clarisse, possessive!clarisse, kinda asshole!clarisse, she’s such a BITCH like you are not all that…. (i’m lying.), the usual swearing and demigod stuff, kinda like lmlylaw friends w benefits kinda thing except they’re both actually in love with each other, again NO SMUT!!!!! THERE IS NO SMUT!!!!!! THEY JUST MAKE OUT AND LIKE SLEEP IN THE SAME BED, again… i’m sorry the nightmare trope you can’t escape it. you can’t….., tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Her hands are always everywhere.

She’s fast and agile, quick like a fox you sometimes see roaming around the woods, so she can jump from one spot to another. You’re supposed to have specific spots on your body, pressure points or whatever, that make you feel good.

When you’re with Clarisse, wherever her hands are lights on fire. You crave her all the time, the burn she makes you feel, the burn you know you make her feel- you’re pretty sure if she hovered her hand over your arm, your skin would find someway to grow and touch her.

You crave her, like a cigarette and the smell of the smoke, no matter how sad she makes you.

How can you be sad that you’re just one of her girls when at least you’re her girl?

How can you be sad when you get to wrap your hands around her forearms, feelings her muscles flex with the effort of moving to your waist, your hips, behind, the sides of your chest- everywhere.

How can you be sad when her lips are on yours, when your teeth are clashing together? Clarisse doesn’t kiss you slow. Clarisse doesn’t savor you. She eats you like you’re the first course of 12, a kiss full of greed and gluttony. Clarisse doesn’t kiss you like it might be the last time, because you both know you’ll always come running back to each other.

You’re the only girl she runs back to, out of all the flings that last a few days, the one nights kissing between cabins at bonfires- you’re the only one she lets into her room, into her bed. You don’t know why she comes back to you. Maybe it’s the way you bite your fingers to keep from moaning, maybe it’s the way you do moan when you’re finally away from everyone else, maybe it’s the way you thread your fingers in her hair or trace your nails along her muscles.

You don’t know why, but you know you love it, so you keep doing what you’re doing and say a prayer each time she leaves.

You don’t know why Clarisse keeps coming back. You don’t know why you keep coming back. You may be a sad girl, but at least you’re her sad girl.

“Gods, you’re such a pretty fuckin’ thing,” she mumbles, finally pulling away to catch her breath. You don’t really care about breathing right now, just her, so you bite your lip and resist the urge to pout.

“I know,” you say back. “But thank you.”

She chuckles, shaking her head lightly, her hand cupping your face as she kisses your jaw, her other hand holding up the leg that’s wrapped around her waist. You lean back against the bathroom stall until she’s breathing in your mouth again, drawing you back down to her with a hand around your neck.

She kisses you slow, hard and deep, finally giving you what you want- a glimpse of what could be. It’s bittersweet, because she kisses you like she really cares about you for just for second- and then you’re left waiting for her until she calls again. She kisses you for a long time like this.

But still, you resist the urge to chase her as she pulls away.

You breathe out, standing on your own two feet again, smoothing down your outfit and fixing your hair. She clicks open the door, hand against the small of your back as she urges you out of the stall.

There’s no one in here- this bathroom is always empty at this time of day, facts you’ve come to know due to your secret meetings.

You walk over to the sink, turning it on and running your hands under the cold water. You bring them up to your hot cheeks, trying in vain to pretend you’re not so affected by her, even when she was just pressing her hand against your cheek a second ago.

Maybe the reason Clarisse comes back to you is because you don’t ask when you’re going to see her again. You won’t say “see you tomorrow?” with a sheepish, hopeful smile on your face like you’re sure the other girls do.

“Bye,” you smile, and she hums, she doesn’t stop you from leaving.

—-

Clarisse moves like she has complete trust in the air.

She’s bold, especially when she fights, jabs forward and somehow manages to catch herself each time, even if she throws all her weight into a particularly hard thrust of her spear. The ground is often littered with holes from either ends of her spears, constantly putting it out to catch herself.

But it’s more than that.

She moves like she just won’t allow herself to fall, like she knows it’s simply impossible for her to fall.

You watch her now, admiring, really, the way she moves so confidently, so sure, so proud- she’s an unstoppable force, and there’s no object she can’t move.

She moves you, biting your lip as the muscles in her arm tense, fingertips drumming against the length of her spear.

She moves her sibling to the ground with a kick to their chest, and they slam down with a groan. She laughs, smiling triumphantly at another easy win- she hasn’t even broken a sweat.

“I hate you, Clarisse,” her sibling groans, but accepts her hand and let’s her tug them up. She grins, wiping dirt off of her spear.

“What’s that? Win number… 8,000? Somewhere around there.”

“Oh, fuck off, we both know you don’t have the brain power to keep track.”

“Oh, you’re so mean,” she says, rolling her eyes and hitting her sibling’s shoulder.

Someone taps your leg.

“You’re drooling.”

“No, ‘m not,” you huff.

“You are,” your best friend and half-sibling, Kaelyn, reaffirms. She pokes at your chin. “Right there.”

You resist the urge to wipe your chin.

“You just don’t get her like I do.”

“I don’t,” Kaelyn laughs, and the two of you watch as Clarisse winks at another girl. “Does it not bother you? You’re, like, literally just her toy.”

“Bitch,” you mumble, slamming your leg into hers. “It’s not that, though. Besides, why would I care? You help me sneak out almost every other night, Kay. I’m going to see her, because she asked.”

“Okay, so, if Clarisse started making out with that girl right now- you wouldn’t mind?”

“We’re not actually dating, so I don’t have any right to be jealous.”

“But you still are?” Kaelyn probes. “Just because you aren’t dating doesn’t mean you don’t still care about her like you are.”

You think about Clarisse so much you’re surprised the image of her isn’t branded behind your eyelids. You think about the way she touches you, the way she kisses you, but you also think about the way it could be. You think about the way that sometimes, just for a second, her hands will linger and she’ll breathe in deeply like you are all she’s ever wanted in life.

Of course you’re in love with Clarisse- she has a fire inside of her, some part of her soul that matches with yours, and you’re inexplicably drawn to her and everything about her.

But Clarisse doesn’t want you like that. She just wants the fun- and maybe you should wait for someone else who will actually love you, but she’s the best you’ve ever had. You haven’t even had anyone else, but you already know. You know no one else can make you feel the way she does.

You sit up straighter, ignoring the feeling of Kaelyn’s eyes burning holes into you.

“She’s ridiculously hot, a great kisser, and she gives me the time of day. That’s all I care about.”

“Okay,” Kaelyn hums, mercifully deciding to drop the subject.

And when your eyes inevitably roll back over to Clarisse and the other girl- she’s looking at you.

—-

You love Fridays.

You associate Fridays with the weekly camp bonfire, the smell of smoke and the laughter of your friends, marshmallows and the promise of a late morning the next day.

More importantly, you associate Friday nights with Clarisse’s bed.

She confessed to you once that she doesn’t really like the campfire and just goes to keep up appearances, maybe find someone, but now she has you. You come every Friday with no intention of staying long, wearing shirts you know will make Clarisse look at you- until she meets your eyes and silently demands you meet her at her cabin, or she just comes up behind you and grabs you.

However you end up there, you end up in her bed.

You’re sure tonight will be no different- you hope it’s no different, because you’re still a girl with needs and you haven’t seen her all week.

She’s the first thing you see when you get there.

Her and her siblings always occupy the best spot by the fire, so the flames dance along her face, and you can’t help but frown when you realize she’s already scanning the crowd.

“I assume you need me to cover for you tonight?” Kaelyn asks, arm linked with yours.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, feeling slightly dejected. She was probably looking for someone else- she doesn’t want you tonight, even though it’s become an unspoken tradition.

This is your mistake. Expecting something from Clarisse. You can’t do that, not when you know her, not if you don’t want this arrangement to wreck you.

And when you find the strength to look back towards her, her spot on the log is empty. She must have found someone else she likes the look of.

“Hey,” Kaelyn says, nothing the way you cross your arms over the shirt you wore for Clarisse- it feels worthless now. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you breathe. “It’s fine. Just sucks, y’know.”

Kaelyn presses her lips into a thin line. “Yeah, I guess.”

She wants to say more. Ask why you do this to yourself, you know she wants to knock some sense into you- but you know that as much as this moment hurts, it will feel 10 times better to have her in your arms again when she comes back.

“Babe,” Kaelyn sighs, putting her arm on your shoulder-

“Y/N.”

Clarisse’s arm slides around your waist, moving you into her and away from Kaelyn with enough force so her hand slides off of you.

Kaelyn looks at you with wide eyes, and you have to bite your lip to keep from squealing. Her arm feels so good around you, so perfect, like it was made to be there.

“Thanks… Kayla,” Clarisse fake smiles, her fingertips digging into your sides. “I’ll take it from here.”

“O-okay,” Kaelyn says, sort of blankly, like she’s in shock- this is probably the first time she’s talked to Clarisse, or even seen her up close.

Clarisse drags you off, squeezing your waist tightly once- almost enough to hurt.

“What’s wrong, Clarisse?” you ask, putting your hand over hers- feeling like her nails might rip holes into your shirt.

“Sorry,” she breathes after a second, taking her arm completely away from you- a loss you mourn heavily. “My siblings were annoying me all fuckin’ day. And then they forced me to come early, and I was waiting for you and you came late.”

The sun only just started it’s descent 30 minutes ago, but you can tell there’s something more going on with Clarisse, so you choose to just placate her dramatics.

You loop both of your arms through hers, pressing close so your hip-to-hip, leaning your head onto her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you say, simply.

“‘S okay,” she mutters, and you resist the urge to kiss her pouty face.

—-

At the back of each cabin, built into the wall right next to the bathroom, there’s a separate room for the camp counselor. It’s small, but private- a regular bed, a small dresser, and a desk. Some decorate, Clarisse left hers plain except for spots for her spear and other weapons to hang proudly on the wall.

You’ve come to love the sight of the four beige walls, grown used to the feeling of sneaking out the window, thanking the Gods it’s on the first floor.

The door shuts behind you, Clarisse pressing her back against it. Immediately, you slip off your shoes, crossing the room to sit on her bed.

“Come here and tell me your woes,” you joke, but her face is twisted into something painful, so the smile on your face falls as well. “Hey? Did something seriously happen, Clarisse?”

She locks the door and walks over to you, standing in between your legs, tilting your chin up so she can stare into your eyes.

“You can tell me,” you say, knowing you would feel like an asshole if you didn’t at least try. But you know she won’t talk to you- sometimes you talk, one Friday nights, sometimes you just lay next to each other and ask each other random questions- but you know tonight is not one of those nights.

“No,” she mutters. “I can’t.”

She leans down, her lips millimeters from yours. She’s so close it’s like she’s filling up all of your senses, until all you can think about is her. But you’re used to feeling like this around her. You love it. You let your guard down and you let it in, you welcome it.

“Why?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

She smiles, her lip quirking up just slightly.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” she breathes, before her lips finally crash down onto yours.

The rest of the night is exactly what you expected. You roll around and she touches you everywhere, touches you in places you didn’t even know could feel so good. She lights you up, she makes you feel black and white. She makes you feel so simple, it all narrows down to her and her body, her lips.

And when it’s over, when you fix your messy hair and lay your head on her pillow- you don’t know what she’ll do.

You’re both too tired to sneak out, and you like to think that Clarisse secretly likes the sleepovers. Sometimes she doesn’t even touch you, seems repulsed- usually the nights when you kiss slow and then you talk.

But tonight was all fury and desire, fire in your stomach and in her eyes. So she holds you against her, chest pressed to your back. You play with her long fingers, she lets you crack them and stretch them- it’s the one time she lets someone else move her around, you think. Her arm is limp around you, her hand totally at your will.

“Do you ever think about the future?” you ask her. It’s fun to ask her real questions like this. It’s fun to get a glimpse inside of her mind, small moments like this when she holds you. “Not, like, tomorrow, but after camp. College. After college.”

She hums.

“No. I don’t.”

“Why?” you’re pushing, now, but you don’t care.

“I don’t think I’ll have much of a future, really. Ares kids go on big quests and they die horribly. That’s what’ll probably happen to me.”

“That’s morbid,” you chuckle. “There’s people who would miss you, though. I would miss you. Who else would kiss me in the smelly bathrooms?”

“You don’t want anyone else to kiss you in the smelly bathrooms.”

She tenses, like she didn’t mean to say that and she just blurted it out.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you whisper, voice small. But it’s true. You don’t.

She relaxes back against you and you don’t push anymore, you let her drift off, her breathing slow.

Eventually, after you get bored of staring at the moon in the window, you turn around so you’re facing her. She shuffles a bit, but you just move her arm back around you, thinking she’s asleep.

And after a few minutes of you laying there silently, you feel her move. You’re so close to her you can hear her eyelashes flutter.

She makes an appreciative sound in the back of her throat, tightening her arm around you and drawing you closer. When you unwillingly flinch at the feeling of her warm hand sliding under your shirt, she shushes you.

“Don’t wake up,” she whispers, the softest you’ve ever heard her speak. You don’t wake up. You pretend you’re asleep, you pretend you don’t feel her, pretend you don’t care about the connotation of her softness. You pretend it doesn’t make your heart squeeze in what will never be, in what now is only the fruition of sleep and the comfort and privacy of darkness. “Mhm, stay asleep, baby.”

She kisses your nose, her hand scratches your back, the bare skin.

“Always so cold,” she breathes, “Always so pretty.”

And suddenly her breathing evens out and she’s asleep again.

—-

The next few days you pretend nothing is different. You pretend you didn’t hear her call you pretty and baby, feel her kiss your nose. You chalk it up to her frustration from the day finally disappearing in your arms and the fact she was half asleep.

She’s called you pretty before. She’s called you baby before. You’re sure she’s kissed your nose before and commented on the fact you run so cold compared to her running hot.

You don’t even tell Kaelyn about it, although you’re sure she notices a difference in you- it feels like you’re constantly removed. Constantly thinking about that one minute where she thought you were asleep.

Maybe the reason you don’t tell Kaelyn is because you know what she would say. You know that you’ve always been different then the rest of the girls Clarisse messes around with, but this is different. It’s different, the way she kissed you softer for longer last week, what she did Friday night- yesterday when she pulled you into the stables and sat on a hale of hay, guiding you to sit on her lap.

She said she couldn’t have her pretty girl getting covered in hay. And she had picked off the pieces that has attached themselves to your pant legs, holding your ankle as you stood there awkwardly.

And yesterday, she has kissed you not like she usually does, but slow and soft and so sweet. Mumbling against your lips about how perfect and pretty you are, about how good you make her feel.

When she slips you the note, you don’t expect it’s her calling you to her bed again. The second night this week, and it’s written in her slightly messy handwriting- but you wouldn’t call it chicken scratch.

Come over tonight

Please

-C

—-

Kaelyn seems skeptical over the fact that you’re going to the Ares cabin again, but she can also tell you don’t want to talk about it, so she just helps you.

You lay in your bed for a long time, waiting for it to get dark enough that you can sneak over undetected. And strangely, you imagine your pillow is her chest.

—-

You wake up in a panic. It’s late, later than you would have liked to visit her. You usually come around 12- it’s probably around 2, if you had to guess.

You slip your shoes on and fix your pillows to look like someone, tip toe out the door, into the pale moonlight. You feel on fire, excited to see her, cursing yourself for sleeping- wondering if she’ll be angry with you.

You practically run past the other cabins, checking down the numbers in your head until you finally reach cabin 5. You tug your sleeves over your hands, feeling the cold summer night a lot.

You run around to the back, feet sinking into the soft grass, climbing onto the little step stool Clarisse left for you and knocking extra loud four times on the window- so she knows it’s you.

You suddenly realize there’s light peeking out from behind the curtains- is she awake?

She opens the curtains and then the window, her eyes wide. She rips the window open with such force you almost fall back, throwing your hands inside to catch yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you start, prepared to worship the ground at her feet- but you don’t get the chance too.

She hooks her hands under your arms and practically drags you into her room, you have to scramble to keep up with how fast she sets you onto your feet, her hands pressing against your face-

“Why are you late?” she breathes.

You feel sort of starstruck. Like Friday, something is obviously wrong with her.

You look around the room- notice the fact she has one shoe on, and her spear is on the bed and not hung up on the wall- like she was preparing to go somewhere.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp, slightly out of breath from running, from the fact both of her hands are on your face and she’s staring into your eyes. “I-I fell asleep. Are you going somewhere?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“I was coming to get you,” she whispers.

“Oh.”

She lets you go, sitting on her bed and taking off the one boot she had managed to get on.

“With your spear?” you chuckle, careful to avoid it as you sit next to her.

“No,” she lies, boot hitting the floor, she stands and returns the spear to the wall. “I just… thought something happened to you. It was stupid. I didn’t sleep well last night, I’m not thinking straight.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you say. She stares pointedly at the floor. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was fine, just asleep in my bed.”

Her eyes finally meet yours and she sighs, heavily, tension fading from her shoulders. She turns off the light and you kick off your shoes, watching as she circles you like a lion watching over its cub. You lay down on your back, prepared fo shuffle over to give you room- and you choke on air when she just climbs on top of you.

She presses her head against your chest, breathes in and out deeply.

And in the darkness, where your inhibitions are lowered- she presses a kiss to your bare chest. It takes you a moment, but you’ve learned to take what you can get with Clarisse. You don’t expect to get it again, but you enjoy it when it happens.

You wrap your arms around her and breathe in the scent of her shampoo.

“I’m fine,” you reassure her, and she nods.

You lay like that for a while, eventually you start to trace circles on her back- just soaking up the moment while it lasts, letting her listen to your heartbeat.

You pretend for this one night.

And when she’s almost asleep, her voice breaks the comfortable silence.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asks.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“You’re my only girl. I don’t… don’t wanna see anyone else anymore. I don’t.”

This is all you never allowed yourself to want from her. The one rule you have with Clarisse is to not expect anything, to not get your hopes up. But Clarisse is clearly abandoning all her rules tonight, so you abandon yours.

“Does that mean anything different?” you whisper.

“I just want you to come here every night,” she whispers. “I get scared when you’re not here, ‘cause I think about you so much I don’t know what I would do if you were gone.”

“I know, Clarisse. I know.” You hold your breath, feeling like a dam might spill over any second. “I know how you feel.”

“I jus’ want you to be here with me all the time. I don’t wanna… make out in the bathroom anymore.”

“Well, I do,” you huff, and she laughs, truly laughs and it’s possibly the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.

“I wanna do other things in addition to that, okay?”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Clarisse. We both know that.”

“But do you know I feel that way about you?”

“Do you?”

“You are… everything to me, Y/N. My pretty girl, my funny girl, my perfect girl.” She doesn’t look at you when she talks, but you let her speak anyway, you let her put one of her hands in your hair. “I had a dream,” she starts, mumbling, but it’s just you and her so it’s like she’s whispering in your ear. “That I lost you last night. That’s why I was so embarrassingly freaked out.”

“It’s sweet,” you whisper. “I thought it was really sweet. I was really confused, but I liked it.”

She breathes in your scent and it makes your head feel dizzy.

“I like it too,” she says.

She doesn’t say what you’re both thinking. You don’t either. Neither of you can promise that this will work, that you won’t run back to the safety of making out and Friday nights. But at least you’re both willing to try.

You’re willing to try, for Clarisse, because she has something about her that you know you’ll never find again. She has the fire, it seeps out of her in every aspect of her personality, the way she carrie’s herself.

She has a fire that has been burning with yours for a long time, before you were even born. And you were separated into two different brazers, but now you’re back, and it might not be good, but it feels right.

She sits up and kisses you quickly, her hand on your face, and it feels like she’s everywhere.

You may be Clarisse’s sad girl, but you could grow to be her everything girl.

—-

i just love them so lovey dovey and cute and aw i don’t really have anything to say just

shoutout to clarisse’s muscles, to the way she kisses, to the pet names, to the way she loves when she thinks y/n is sleeping……. yeah.

—-

bonus: the reason clarisse had the revelation and was all don’t worry your pretty little head was bc her siblings were teasing her abt how different y/n is and she was like oh no i’m in love w this bitch

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

@hyejusdiary

#꒰ 🖇️ ⋮ 𝗓𝗈𝖾’𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 ꒱#zoe’s fanfic rec!! <33 #my girl addie i love u and this oneshot

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