#33 years isn’t that bad

[whimsiwitchy]

another day of being pissed off about not being old enough for Hugh Jackman

[ahalliance]

American-validated Frenchge 🥖

transcript below

[Video Transcript begins:

[Video starts mid-sentence]

Etoiles: —and you put this face— next to the camera! Like this!

Foolish: (laughing) You’re so French!

Etoiles: I’m so French, that’s my main problem. Like I’m so French, I try sometimes to nerf myself and be like, less French

Etoiles: But that feels good to hear this because you say I’m so French and like, some racist people in France think I’m not because I’m Arabic too, so—

Foolish: Ohhhh

Etoiles: —that feels good too, you know

Foolish: No dude, you seem like a French ass French person—

Etoiles: (laughing)

Foolish: I don’t know how else to put it. Simply put

Etoiles: That feels good, man. I was saying hello to Tarik and all his chat was saying like Frenchge, the emote they are putting—

Foolish: Oh yeah

Etoiles: —the emote they are putting. Yeah, yeah, yeah

Video Transcript ends.]

[cannibalcharon]

It’s exhausting and disheartening seeing cishet creators do the “it’s not a confirmed relationship but I didn’t deny it either ;))” or the “well they’re not REALLY men they just identify and act and present as men ;))” in terms of writing mlm romance. I’m so tired and disheartened having to rely on context clues and subtle acting like. This attitude just reinforces the insecurity that men in love is something that needs to be hidden. Being male or transmasc isn’t some yucky awful thing. Please just let men be in love.

[tender-rosiey]

Hi. This is my first time writing arequest so i dont really know what im doing but i love your husband sukuna series and i wanna ask for a husband sukuna with a shy baby daughter bc your sukuna is 🤌

reluctance — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: so glad you like my husband!sukuna works <33 hope this one is to your liking as well MWUAH 🫶

“come on, d/n,” you coax gently.

your daughter, barely two years old, shakes her head from behind your legs, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of your kimono as she hides from the imposing figure of her father.

sukuna stands at the doorway, his arms crossed, his usual stern expression in place.

“she’s still hiding?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, his deep voice filling the room, though it isn’t harsh.

you kneel, gently petting your daughter’s head, “she’s shy. you know how she gets when you’re around.”

sukuna exhales slowly. he observes your daughter quietly. wide-eyed but cautious, her tiny fingers tightening their grip on you. your daughter was notably quite soft.

it didn’t help that her father, sukuna, didn’t exactly have the most inviting presence.

“come here,” he says, his tone gruff, holding out a hand.

the little girl hesitates, her bottom lip trembling slightly. you place a reassuring hand on her back and whisper softly, “it’s okay” you smile, “that’s your dad; he won’t hurt you.”

at your words, sukuna looks down at your daughter, his daughter.

she looks up at you, then back at sukuna. with the smallest shuffle, she takes one step toward him then sees him quirk an eyebrow which makes her quickly retreat, still unsure.

sukuna clicks his tongue, while you giggle. your daughter clings harder onto you at the sound of his disapproval.

“she sure is jumpy,” he says, stretched hand moving to rest on his hips, “how the hell is that my daughter?”

“ever studied biology?”

“do not get smart with me,” he warns, but his threats have long lost their effect on you.

the little interaction gives your daughter a sense of familiarity, seeing you talk so easily with him. with some courage finally mustered, your daughter blinks up at sukuna, her small voice barely audible as she mumbles, “papa...?”

sukuna’s sharp gaze relaxes just the faintest bit at the sound of her voice, “yes. I’m right here.”

she stares for another moment, before she toddles over to him. she stumbles and holds desperately onto his legs. she looks up at him, and he gives her no reaction.

your daughter takes that as a good sign, and she looks back at you with sparkly eyes.

“there you go,” you laugh, standing up. “see? not so bad.”

sukuna looks at your daughter, then back at you, “you coddle her too much.”

you fold your arms with a playful smirk, “she’s two. she’s allowed to be coddled a little.”

“she’ll be stronger if she learns early.” sukuna’s voice is firm. she is clinging to him now, a little less hesitant as she begins to tug at his kimono.

she lets out small mumbles as she tries to gain his attention.

"uh-huh, sure," you tease, stepping closer and placing your hand on his forearm, "you’re so tough, honey. maybe we should get her a little curse to toughen her up. would that make you happy?"

he scoffs but doesn’t answer, his attention flicking back to the girl holding onto him. you could see the faintest hint of something in his expression, though it wasn’t something he would ever acknowledge verbally.

for some reason, the scene of his daughter faced with a curse, at least in this age, doesn’t particularly please him.

her eyes are soft. her entire being is. there is no way that she would survive, and knowing his little daughter, she will burst into tears the moment the curse appears. that conclusion makes him think.

he stays silent, before he finally mutters, "never mind. she's fine the way she is.”

you beam at his words and pull his face down to place a kiss on his cheek, “aww, you are going soft, yay!”

“I will kill you,” he sneers, but then he feels his daughter raise her arms. he looks down at her with a scowl, “what do you want, you brat?”

the tone makes her flinch back, but then she tightens her fist and stutters, “u-up!”

“you and your mother are insolent,” he side-eyes you, and you raise your hands in surrender. his eyes flick back to her, “you ordering me around?”

her eyes start to water, but she tries to persevere, “up…?”

your husband groans and bends down to pick her up. the way he gives into her demands is sweet in its own way.

it would make you laugh, if he didn’t pick you up in process which instead makes you gasp. now, both you and your daughter are carried—effortlessly—in his arms.

you smile widely at your husband, while he avoids looking at you. sukuna instead looks at you daughter. he then asks, “are you happy now?”

your daughter stares silently at him, and he stares at her back. in the midst all this staring, your daughter realizes something: her dad has a second face.

her lips start quivering, and she raises her hands to cover her face as she starts bawling and wailing

“ugh, why is she crying now?” your husband groans, irked by the sudden loud noise.

“your face probably scares her.”

“I hate kids.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author

@libbyistired @anon1412@maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1@sad-darksoul@ko-fi-heart@pumpkindudeishere@suyaaachin@babyqueen17@chaosguy352@murakami-kotone@sukun4ryomen@yumieis@hearts4itoshi@sleepyxxhead@dunixxd@sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08@spacebaby1@arabellatreaty@viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @mwtsxri @peppersapro @uranosbaaee @lifeisadumpie e @guacam011y @kurooandkenmasslut @callmemirro @lexiene

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do not copy or plagiarize

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[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[ctrlhope]

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!

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[kitten4sannie]

Thots on pussy slapping? 👉🏻👈🏻

my hard hours are technically closed but i’ll make an exception for you dear anonnie bc the topic at hand is so yummy like im actually so weak for this ughhhh and since this isn’t member specific i’ll go ahead and come up with bite sized scenarios for my bias trio and they’ll go up in intensity with each one heheheh. happy new year i hope you enjoy this little treat ;3 <33

warnings: pussy slapping obv lol, soft dom! yunho, lowkey sadistic hard dom! wooyoung, hard dom! (pussydrunk) san, teasing, dirty talk, possessiveness, pet names, name calling, praise, false praise, degradation, spit play, sir kink, size kink, hand/vein kink, fingering, just the tip until it’s not, bulge kink, oral (receiving), overstim, squirting

level 1 ♡

Yunho routinely stuffed two long, slender fingers back inside your pulsing cunt, knowing they were hitting your g-spot from the way you were whining and writhing around underneath his larger frame, his free hand clutched around your jolting hip. “Fuck, princess, you’re so tight right now. Are you going to cum for me?”

“Y-yes, Yunnie, can you please do that thing I like? I’m so close…!” you requested, gazing up at him underneath your wet lashes.

“My naughty girl…” he whispered softly, gently spreading your pussy open and rubbing the rough pad of his thumb against your exposed clit, making you gasp. “You want me to hit your pretty pussy so you can cum all over me?”

“Fuck–yes, please…!”

“Then, take it, princess,” Yunho sighed softly, making sure to curl his fingers just a little more inside your soaked, squelching hole, right as he brought his large hand down onto your cunt, hitting it hard enough to propel you over the edge.

“Cumming…”

“Mm, that’s it, baby, don’t stop. Keep cumming for me,” Yunho breathed out, sending you into a state of prolonged esctasy when he began to rub his rough palm against your pulsing clit, your juices leaking down his veined forearm. He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean, before leaning down to kiss you, murmuring against your lips, “You always taste so good, princess.” Kiss. “Always look so pretty when you fall apart for me.” Another kiss. “Wanna do it again?”

level 2 ♡ ♡

Wooyoung had you locked in place in his lap for over an hour, warmth emanating from his chest against your back, his thighs positioned in a way that kept yours spread apart, routinely smacking his palm against your swollen clit and fucking your slick cunt with only the tip of his throbbing cock. The small, pathetic whimpers you made as soon as his hand came in contact with your stinging cunt and the sound of your hole squelching each time he stretched you open again was like music to his ears, but he knew what you really needed. His low, breathy voice sent a wave of goosebumps up the slope of your neck when he cooed, “Awwh, does my sweet girl need to cum now? Does she deserve to? Hmm?~”

“Yes, please, Youngie, let me cum,” you pleaded, about to melt into Wooyoung as soon as he began to lower you further and further down onto his cock, filling you up so good you thought you might cum then and there. “Fuck me, please, oh my god, fuck me–”

“Mm, you’re already so desperate for my cock that you’re begging for it?” Wooyoung rubbed his thumb around your clit, before his fingers formed a V, sliding them up and down your cunt around the outline of his slick cock that was still pushing inside you ever so slowly. “You need it inside this pretty pussy that bad?”

“Yes, Youngie, I need your cock so bad, I can’t take it!”

Then, be a good girl for me and take it all,” he grunted in your ear, immediately slamming his hips into yours, his thrusts unrelenting, not giving you any choice but to take his thick, veined cock deep inside your cunt until he decided you had enough.

“Ah– ah – it’s too – fuck,” you gasped, your body seizing up with overwhelming pleasure after being teased for so long, tears forming in your eyes from the sight of his cock protruding slightly through your lower stomach each time he filled you up. “Too much.”

Wooyoung tsked, squeezing your clit roughly between two fingers, making you shudder. “Don’t you start whining now. What happened to the desperate little slut that was asking for this just a second ago?” He sent a harsh smack to your clit, amused by the barely audible sound that left your drooling mouth. “You’re going to cum just like this, and you’re going to like it.”

“Youngie, please,” you choked out, turning your head to look up at him through teary eyes, only to find pure carnal desire in his.

Wooyoung smiled darkly, licking at the mole on his bottom lip, his fingers pressing into the bulge present in your abdomen just to feel his throbbing cock as it sank inside you over and over again. “You asked for it, so I’m going to make you cum so hard you forget your own name. Sounds good, yeah?”

level 3 ♡ ♡ ♡

“Can I cum, sir? Please? I’ve been so good for you, so can I please–fuck!” you gasped, withstanding yet another smack directly onto your reddened cunt, a fresh wave of arousal leaking out of you.

San, who was in between your thighs, taking his sweet time devouring your cunt, wasn’t in the mood for your games. “A good girl waits for her reward, isn’t that right, you little brat?”

“I’m not a brat,” you whined, squeezing your thighs together to squish his cheeks a bit, letting out a giggle, knowing you were withholding San from his meal. This encouraged him to grab your legs by the bend of your knees and lift your thighs up, folding you in half.

“Oh, yes, you are.” San leaned down, licking one long, slow stripe up from your dripping hole to your puffy clit, grabbing your hands to make you hold your own thighs up, which you obediently did, this time around. “You know what else you are, princess?”

“What, Sannie?”

San pressed his thumbs against your folds to spread you apart for him, watching your hole flutter around nothing. “You’re my dumb little slut.” He pursed his lips and spat directly into you, before plugging your cunt back up with his thick, thrusting fingers, satisfied with the sudden moan that tore through your throat. He gave you a fake pout. “Aren’t you, baby?”

You were at your limit, only able to take what he gave you, your mouth open in a soundless bout of pleasure, your teary eyes focused on San’s smug face, taking yet another finger inside you, feeling it rubbing against your gummy spot.

“I asked you a question, princess,” San grunted, smacking his free hand down onto your clit, more slick dripping down his taut, veiny forearm, eliciting more breathless moans and whines from you, still finger-fucking you so brutally to the point that all you could focus on was the shlick shlick shlick sounds your pussy made each time he pounded his digits into you. “Can you even hear me? That look on your face is telling me otherwise. How are you already fucked stupid when I haven’t even stuffed my cock inside you, huh? Are you that much of a whore that all you need is to get your puffy little cunt filled and spat on, and you’re ready to cream yourself?”

“Yes, sir…!” you were finally able to verbalize, your voice strained with immense pleasure, your thighs beginning to shake. “I’m such a whore for you, Sannie, only for you, so please, let me cum.”

San simply smiled up at you, dimples forming near his pretty, pink, arousal-covered lips, immediately curling his fingers up into a come-hither motion, his mouth latching onto your abused clit, sucking and licking at it with his hot tongue relentlessly until your moans crescendoed and your warm squirt began to pour out of you. “That’s it, baby, that’s fucking it, oh my god, look at you…”

San groaned heavily, taking a moment to suck your cum off of his fingers, before diving in between your trembling legs again to press his mouth back onto your spasming cunt like he needed it for oxygen, dragging his tongue up and down your slit to collect your arousal, slurping it up into his mouth, his dark, hooded eyes never leaving your barely open ones. He took a second to breathe, before speaking, his voice ragged and dripping with arousal, “I’ll give you a minute to come down, but get ready, angel. You’re gonna keep cumming for me just like that, and I’m only gonna stop when you have nothing left to give me, alright?”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[bluebeary-jay]

A promise softly sung

Astarion x f!Reader/Tav

Summary: before the battle that will decide his fate, Astarion is terrified of losing you to Cazador. you comfort him after a nightmare. (set at the beginning of act 3)

Tags: hurt/comfort, BIG angst and some fluff, poor boy doesn't believe he's deserving of love :( let's hold him until he changes his mind

Warnings: mentions of trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, memories of past abuse and torture, c*zador, being unable to move (briefly), tadpoles mention (idk if that's a trigger)

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: hiiiiiiiii my darlings <33 soo this is something else from what i usually write but i finished bg3 recently and i LOVED IT but i'm on a trip rn so in the absence of my pc i found some inner inspiration to write something again. honestly i missed writing very much but i had the biggest block for almost a year now but maybe it'll get better now that my classes are starting again and i'll be needing a distraction lmao. anyway comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and don't be shy to send in a request! and as always, happy reading!!! <3

He was there again.

Astarion loathed those hard, stone walls as much as he feared them. It was here that he once spent an entire night, having infernal script meticulously carved into his skin. It was here that he was punished every time he disappointed his master, every time he didn’t do well enough on his mission. It was here that he was reminded time and time again how worthless, pathetic and meaningless his existence was. It was here he returned in almost all of his nightmares.

But now you were here, too.

Astarion couldn’t believe this, but no matter how much he blinked or willed himself to wake up, the view before his eyes didn’t change. It was you, chained by the wrists to the ceiling where he was hanging so many times before, your toes just barely scraping the ground that was already splattered with your blood. Your clothes were ripped to shreds and cuts and bruises covered almost every inch of your skin. Astarion wanted to run up to you, to get you somewhere safe and far away from this place, but he found that he was unable to move. It wasn’t shock seizing up his limbs, but magical paralysis which he had experienced a couple of times during combat. Even though he knew it was a spell that was holding him in place, he still fought against it with all the strength he could muster – but to no avail.

Your eyes, full of tears and fear, met his briefly before you looked past him at someone else.

“Ah, my sweet, insolent boy,” whispered a voice straight from Astarion’s deepest, darkest nightmares, causing him to tense up in terror. A hand – pale, all too familiar in its deceptive tenderness – brushed his jaw from behind before grabbing his hair roughly. The vampire spawn could do nothing but watch as his head was tilted back and he came face to face with his master.

No, it can’t be… How was Cazador here? How were you here?!

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Astarion,” Cazador tutted, shaking his head. “Running away like that, not returning home for months… It’s no way to treat family, isn’t it?” Astarion felt a sharp sting of his master’s quarterstaff at his back, digging into the scars made by the same hand, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream. “But I’ll forgive you… eventually. After all, you brought me this delectable treat…”

Both him and Cazador looked up at you when Astarion realized what – or rather, who – that bastard was talking about. He tried shaking his head, tried begging for him not to hurt you, but he still couldn’t move, his voice was still stuck past his throat and no word or sound came out. In the meantime, Cazador stood up, walking around his spawn to stand in front of you.

“His own survival was always the most important thing to him,” Cazador said almost pitifully, and only after a moment Astarion realized that this time, he was speaking to you. “He’s a selfish, contemptuous creature, after all. Say, did he tell you he loved you before he lured you here like so many others before you? Did he lie, swearing how much you mean to him?”

“Yes, he… he did.”

Astarion prayed to any higher being that it was just the power of another spell compelling you to say that, and not what you were really thinking. He tried to struggle against his own magical restraints, but whatever scroll or verbal command was used, it was far too powerful for the vampire to beat it with sheer willpower alone. He was helpless again – but worse than that, he was forced to watch you being at Cazador’s mercy, too, all while he couldn’t do anything to save you.

“I honestly didn’t think poor Astarion had it in him,” Cazador continued calmly, gliding gracefully around you and disappearing behind your back. Your own eyes, now full of hurt and betrayal, were trained on Astarion’s. He couldn’t turn away, but in the corner of his vision the elf saw a flash of a blade against your bare skin. “To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him… But I’m so very proud of you, sweetling.” Cazador looked at him over your shoulder and licked his lips, so, so dangerously close to your neck. “You’ll live to serve me for centuries to come, and you can watch your lover take your place in my ritual… You did well, Astarion.”

No, Astarion cried in the prison of his own body, unable to reach you or to even stop Cazador from spilling lies into your ears. Not her, no, no, please–

“No!”

Cazador smiled widely and sank his teeth into your fragile neck, and you screamed, still looking at Astarion with this horrible hatred in your eyes…

“No, no, please! Take me, please, just don’t–”

“My love, it’s alright, you’re safe…”

“Stop! Please, just–!”

His body suddenly jerked painfully and his eyes shot open, darting around in confusion and trying to figure out where he was. Astarion wasn’t feeling the cold frigid air of the kennels anymore – instead his skin was almost hot, and damp from sweat, but there was something smooth and soft under his back… the sheets. He was in a bed, at an inn. Still panting heavily, he looked around, noting the details in his surroundings: the crooked chandelier, a little window with curtains drawn shut, his shirt hung neatly over the back of the chair… and your shoes right next to it.

At the memory of your battered and tortured body in Cazador’s dungeon, Astarion shot up with a belated sob, almost knocking you over in the process. Only when your warm hand left his cheek did he notice your presence. You were kneeling next to him on the mattress, expression worried and sorrowful, with the last traces of sleep just leaving the edge of your vision. His red eyes scanned your body, but there were no bruises, no cuts made by Cazador’s wretched blade, no burns on your wrists from the manacles he saw you in mere moments ago.

And there was no hatred in your gaze. Only love and care he didn’t deserve.

Astarion’s eyes filled with tears, but before he could run out of the room or hide under the bed, you opened your arms, gently offering him the solace within. And he, being the selfish, contemptuous creature that he was, didn’t deny himself what he wasn’t worthy of.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, petting his hair softly, while the other hand was – as always – mindful of the scars on his back. “It was a dream, my love. You’re safe here with us.”

His body shook with quiet sobs as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the soothing scent of your skin and your blood singing to him just beneath. He saw again before his eyes the way Cazador looked at him before he bit you, right in this place he was now so close to…

To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him…

“I’m sorry,” Astarion choked out, finding his voice at last, which made you pause in your ministrations. “I’m so sorry f-for not doing anything… He…”

You were quiet for a couple of seconds, but then Astarion felt the most tender touch of your lips on the crown of his head, and he buried his face more into your chest.

“I’m here, darling,” you whispered. “Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real.”

He didn’t answer, instead lifting his arm and tentatively brushing his fingers just underneath your shirt. He didn’t feel any scars mirroring his own, but could still see the blood flowing from your back and down your legs, could still hear your painful scream… It brought fresh tears to his eyes again.

“I… I swear, I would never do that,” he attempted to explain himself, but his words came out in a pathetic sob, and he shook his head again, curling in on himself. “He– he was lying. I’d never…”

A fresh wave of tears wetted your shirt, but you didn’t seem to mind as you gently rocked him back and forth, cradling him safe in your arms. Old Astarion would probably scoff at the condescending action of being treated like an infant, but he knew better now. He still found it difficult, but with you at his side he was learning what true care and affection looked like, and how to accept it. You were always so patient with him, so gentle, never rushing or angry when he couldn’t give you the closeness and intimacy you deserved. Astarion loved that about you – even if he wasn’t ready to say it out loud just yet.

“My star…” you hesitated, but ultimately asked, “what did you dream about?”

The vampire took a shaky breath, unable to open his eyes or speak about what he saw. Instead, he called on the tadpole in his brain and nudged your mind with it, wordlessly asking for permission, which you immediately granted. There was at least one thing the tadpole was good for, he thought as you lived through the nightmare his weak, broken mind had conjured. If by the gods’ grace all of them managed to get rid of the tadpoles and survive this whole ordeal… and if by some miracle you still wanted to stay with him after all was done… Astarion knew he would have to learn how to communicate his feelings on his own. But not tonight. Not tonight.

You didn’t say anything for a long while, only continuing to hold him close to your chest. In this position he could hear the soothing beat of your heart, proving that he didn’t lead you to Cazador, that he didn’t turn you into a monster like him…

“We’re gonna kill him,” you finally said with your throat tight from emotions. “I promise you, as soon as we get to the Baldur’s Gate, we’ll find him and end him for good.”

Astarion knew what he should say – he should agree, or maybe jest that this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever said, or even argue that it’s not going to be that easy.

But all he could do right now was to continue clinging to you like a child, too afraid to face you.

“I’d never give you away,” he breathed, so quietly that he wasn’t sure you heard it, but he didn’t care. “Even if I had to suffer another two hundred years. I’d never–”

“I know, my darling,” you whispered back, and Astarion felt your own tears disappearing in his white locks. He still couldn’t believe why someone like you would waste your tears on him of all people, and it caused a new kind of pain to bloom in his chest. “And you’re not those things he told you. You’re… you’re everything to me, Astarion. Everything.”

Astarion wondered if he’d ever believe that. You proved to him time and time again that you can make anything possible, even change the worldview of someone like him… but with Cazador’s threat still looming, he didn’t have it in him to try and convince himself of your words.

Maybe after the bastard's dead, he concluded. Maybe then it’ll get easier and he can finally start becoming someone deserving of you.

You stirred slightly, breaking him out of his musings. Astarion hugged you tighter, sharply stopping you from moving away.

“Please. Don’t go.”

You just leaned back on the pillow and kissed his head gently again. Astarion felt the tension in his body melting away just a little, but the tears welled up again in his eyes.

“I won’t. Promise.”

And you kept your promise. Astarion didn’t fall asleep again, but your constant heartbeat under his cheek brought him some semblance of peace as he waited for the sun to rise. It didn’t feel right to let you care for him so much, to gift and envelop him with your love that he didn’t deserve… But it’d be even more wrong to take that choice away from you. He knew all about that, after all, and he'll be damned if he ever treats you the way he was treated.

So Astarion decided that he will let you love him and he will love you in return, for as long as you allow it.

Because, truth be told, he was nothing if not a selfish, contemptuous creature.

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

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It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

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The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

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They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[cakelitter]

Eternally Loved

Yandere/Corrupt! Leon x Fem! Reader

warnings: dead dove do not eat, daddy kink, oral (f receive), p in v

summary: He needs to protect you, to keep you his. You’re too brittle for anyone else, they wouldn’t know what to do with you. Only he deserves you, he is the only one that knows how to handle you. Yes, yes, only him.

words: 3.3k

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now and I had to get it out of my system. Enjoy!! <33

Leon never thought he’d end up like this… actually he did. Orphan since the ripe age of seven, spent the rest of his upbringing in the shitty foster care system, started police academy which surprisingly wasn’t that bad compared to some situations he was in. And just when he thought things are starting to look up for him after he graduated, he finds himself in the virus outbreak in Raccoon City.

Out of the many cities and towns he could’ve chosen to work in, he chose Raccoon city. Not even assigned or forced; for once in his life, he had the privilege of choosing what to do, and look what that got him.

After barely making it out alive, he goes back to what’s familiar. Getting forced to do shit he never signed up for. Working as an agent for the government, the right hand of the president of the United States of America, what a fucking honor.

It’s like he’s allergic to happiness, sentenced to a life of misery since the day he was dragged into this world. He’s in his late thirties now, living alone, eating alone, drinking alone, sleeping, crying, smiling, fighting, all alone.

Sherry visits from time to time, and that’s the only occasion where he feels like he’s not fighting the urge to jump off a cliff. It’s a once-a-year sort of occasion though, but that’s good enough for him. Christmas for Leon is the day that Sherry visits, the only thing he looks forwards to each year.

Claire visits too, but mostly to make sure he isn’t dead, taking his medication and going to therapy. He swears he does, even though he doesn’t. All the therapists he tried always look at him, overwhelmed on what to tackle first. Taking him apart and dissecting his brain like he’s some sort of lab rat.

He knew that not getting help was going to catch up to him someday. Although he expected it to backfire on him, like a bullet to the head or giving up on fighting whatever bioweapon he’s facing, letting it end his suffering before he does it himself. Instead, you’re now passed out in the backseat of his car.

He was having a bad day, well, every day is a bad day when you’re Leon Kennedy. Driving slowly back to his place, and you just so happened to be walking out of your college campus. Backpack on your back, your eyes glued to your phone, you’re not even paying attention to your surroundings.

How irresponsible.

You’re a sweet thing, really. So young and full of life, enough to brighten up his dark and dingy days, he can sense it. You look loved, pampered and cared for, something he lacked. He’s sure that you have enough love inside of you to share it with him, life hasn’t robbed you of your youthful smile and bright eyes. How funny would it be if he just… took you.

Apparently to him it was fucking hilarious cause, next thing you know he parked his car and is making his way to you. Kidnapping you was fairly easy; you were already walking on an empty street when he made up his mind to borrow you for a bit. You fought back, trying to free yourself from is hold. A for effort, but it wasn’t enough for him to let you go.

A few empty threats while putting you in the back of his car were enough to shut you up, so fucking gullible. Cried your heart out as he drove, honestly you were kind of an ugly crier, plus you were making him feel bad so it’s starting to get on his nerves.

Eventually though, you pass out from hyperventilating. Very dramatic, like he could’ve done worse. He has a pistol attached to his hip at all time and didn’t even pull it out once to scare you. Fine he was kidnapping you, but gently, so can’t you be grateful for that?

That was five months ago, and since then you’ve gotten better. At first, you’d repulse every time he came closer to you, tears rapidly brimming in your eyes, pleading whispers asking him not to hurt you. He wasn’t going to in the first place, he wanted someone to soothe the aching loneliness in his heart, that’s why you’re here.

There is a difference between a pathetic unloved loser, and a psychopath. He never hurt you, not even once, ever since that fateful day when he laid his eyes on you.

He did have to scare you a few times though, but again all empty threats; like he’s going to hurt your family if you think about screaming or even considering escaping. Shit he sees in movies.

Again, first time kidnapping someone, he’s a little nervous. Funnily enough, he didn’t even know your name back then, let alone your parents’ name. But it got the job done of keeping you in line.

Now he does know your name, it’s pretty just like you, it suits you. But he doesn’t use it, calling you pet names is better, helps him live the fucked-up fantasy of the two of you being in love. His sweet baby, always waiting for him back home.

Truthfully, he treats you fairly well for someone who kidnapped you. Asking what you want to eat, making effort to learn your interests and hobbies, even buying you small gifts that you might like from time to time.

And after a few weeks, you started accepting him. Asking him questions about himself, snuggling up next to him while watching a movie, and begging him not to leave for work. As much as he appreciates the fact that you actually care for him now, he’s aware that this is all a trauma response. Stockholm syndrome is a blessing in this particular situation; as long as a part of you has accepted him and loved him, is all he’s asking for.  

You’re a curious little thing, questioning him about his past, present and future, what’s his job and why he sometimes disappears for days. He should get pissed, and put you in your place, but you’re too cute to cry so he answers vaguely. Besides, it’s nice to have someone be interested in learning about you, feels like ages since he experienced that.

All you know about him is his name, just his first name, that he saves the world in order to protect you, and that he would never hurt you; and that’s exactly all he wants you to know. You feel like a chance for him to start from scratch, a breath of fresh air, totally and utterly clueless on what kind of shit he sees and has seen outside the walls of his apartment.

He has noticed however, how you seem to get dumber and dumber by the day. Well, no shit you’ve been spending majority of the past five months alone staring at the different walls facing you. Your past life becoming noting more than just a distant memory, fading away with each second.

Now all of your focus and knowledge is about Leon, Leon, Leon, Leon. The man you once feared becoming the axis of your world, he can even consider himself your hero with the way you’re treating him.

The name Leon however is a name you’re not allowed to say out loud, just like he uses pet names to address you, you are expected to do the same. Leon is dead now, Leon is the man that kidnapped you. Daddy however, keeps you safe from this scary world.

You’re not allowed to go outside because people will try to hurt you, so you should always be with daddy. You’re not allowed to have your family come over, because they will try to take you away from daddy. You’re not allowed to dwell on the life you once lived, because that makes daddy upset, you would never want to make daddy upset right?

Daddy always knows best, so you should always listen to him. Is the foundation he used to build his castle, no, empire in that pretty head of yours.

Truth be told, Leon has been obsessing over you as well. Kidnapping you at first was just to fill the gaping hole in his heart. But now if you get even a tiny papercut, he goes crazy.

Managed to slither into his tattered heart and grew your ivy all over it. His life has been better since you were yanked into it.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Please daddy.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

Fuck, he can hear your voice when you’re not even there.

The eerie quietness of his apartment is now gone, replaced with the sound of the TV in the living room, with you sitting on the couch in his shirt. His bed is no longer cold and empty, your body is there to warm it up, your scent making it feel more comforting.

He needs to protect you, to keep you his. You’re too brittle for anyone else, they wouldn’t know what to do with you. Only he deserves you, he is the only one that knows how to handle you. Yes, yes, only him.

You begged him to let you out just once, promising you’d never try to run away. He honestly forgot that was something he needed to worry about. You’d never run away, even if you wanted to. Fucked you up so bad, your entire sense of self, morality, and survival instincts in shambles.

Was going to say no, and remind you of the rules. But you asked so politely and have been such a good girl lately. Surely you deserve a reward other than his cock.

And so, he takes you to the park, your eyes looking around like you have never seen trees before. Everything is going fine, you’re behaving, and he’s relaxing. Deciding to buy the two of you ice cream, he leaves you for not more than two minutes to buy it at the nearby stand.

That’s when a guy that seems about your age, starts talking to you. Discomfort and fear are written all over your face.

“Rule number 17, no talking to anyone besides daddy.”  Is what he can assume you mind keeps repeating, your lips are sealed, biting on them, not letting a word leave your mouth and praying that he leaves you alone.

As soon as you spot Leon looking over at you, he can see you start to tremble in fear.

That person is trying to take you away from him, everyone tries to take things he loves away from him. No no, not you, anything but you. He’s definitely going to hurt you, what if he has a knife? What if he recognizes you from the missing person’s report your family posted all over town.  

Such an idiotic move by the way, if anyone did find you, they would never give you up.

The day didn’t end the way he hoped, he dragged you back home after shooing away the guy that was talking to you, his fists clenched so hard, they’re almost cramping. Blinded by rage, he threw a whole fit once you made it back home. Throwing items across the room, yelling and screaming at you; he couldn’t even recognize himself at this point.

It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t break any of the rules, and he knows that. This is simply his paranoia acting up, it’s his issues acting up.

You start having a panic attack, hyperventilating and crying. Seeing you like this causes a switch to flip in his head. And so, he approaches you slowly, wrapping you in his arms, one of his hands rubbing your back gently and planting soft kisses on the crown of your head.

“I’m sorry, baby. Daddy’s here, daddy would never hurt you.”  Whispering into your hair. “You know I love you right? My sweet angel, always such a good girl f’me”

Breathing starts to become more regular, and you stop sobbing, hugging him back and seeking comfort from the same person that you should hate with a burning passion. Taking in a deep breath, he holds you, patting your hair and humming a tune.

“Did I scare you, baby?” he asks after a little while. “Yeah…”

He’s disappointed in himself; thought he left that behavior back in the past, when he didn’t know how to deal with you. “You know I didn’t mean that right? I just care for you, that guy could’ve been dangerous, sweetheart.”

 Your head nods against his chest, your arms tightening around him. “How about you let daddy take care of you baby? How does that sound?” you nod again, causing his lips to curl up into a smile.

Pulling away, he grabs your chin and tilts it up. Your watery eyes lock with his, some tears still wetting your cheeks. “My pretty girl.”

Bending down, he kisses one of your wet cheeks, caressing it with his thumb. Chapped lips then drop down to yours, kissing them gingerly. It starts off as sweet, then he amps up the fierceness of it. You moan into his mouth, hand grabbing his shirt in your fist, holding him in place.

Flattered by your eagerness, he continues. Cornering you against the dining table, hands making their ways to your hips, easily lifting you up and setting you back down. His lips wrap around your bottom lip, kissing and tugging on it with a delicate bite.

He grabs your arms that are desperately clinging onto his chest, and holds them in a firm grip as his lips move to your neck. Littering your neck with hickeys and love bites, one of his favorite activities.

It’s a shame that they go away though, but that’s just another excuse to give you more. Purple flowers blossoming on your neck when his lips detach from the skin. He can smell the scent of his shampoo in your hair, drives him crazy all the time.

Your eyes close, breathy moans escaping those doll lips of yours. If kissing you to death could kill you, you’d be long gone by now. Lips dripping with maple, and sweet like honey; only a matter of time before he gets cavities.

One of his hands pushes you lightly to lie down on the surface beneath you, hands travelling up your plush thighs. He spreads you out, hiking your pink dress up, exposing your soaked panties. The sight making blood rush to his cock.

Dropping down to his knees, he marvels at the sight in front of him, urging him to lick his lips as his mouth feels dry. Hooking his finger into the gusset of your panties, he swiftly pulls them off, watching as your wet cunt glistens with need.

He blows some air onto your core, causing your knees to quiver and your breath to hitch. Looking down at him, your brows furrow in irritation as he sits and does nothing.

“Daddy, please…” God, that whining, how he loves it.

“Let daddy enjoy the view for a bit, sweetheart.” Knowing you can’t argue back, you rest your head back on the table. He notices that you’re obeying, and rewards you with his thumb running up your slit before circling your clit.

Slick begins to drip even more from your aching cunt, while your hips squirm trying to get as much friction as possible. Removing his finger, he leans closer and flattens his tongue against your pussy savoring your taste.

Rough hands wrap under your thighs then rest on your hip, pulling you to the edge of the surface. He presses his face fully against your wet heat, feverishly sucking and licking your sensitive bundle of nerves, before pushing his tongue into your hole, nose bumping against your clit.

Groaning at the taste, he eats you like a man starved. You on the other hand, in pure bliss. Eyes closed, mouth open, letting those adorable sighs and moans slip through your lips. Chanting daddy over and over like he isn’t between your thighs.

Your hands claw at anything and everything you can reach, settling on your breast, giving it a light squeeze making Leon’s heart ache with jealousy. Pulling his mouth away, he gathers spit in his mouth before letting it drip down onto your cunt.

Thighs begin to squirm at the feeling of the warm fluid dripping from your clit and down to your entrance. “Fuck, so fucking sexy.”

Dropping back down, he connects his mouth back between the apex of your thighs. Eating you out with determination, passion, and like his life depends on it. Pulling the hood of the clit back and sucking, making your hips jolt in pleasure.

“Prettiest girl, got the prettiest dolly pussy. Can’t wait to fuck this tight hole full of my cum.” You’re so into this, it’s adorable, he’s practically drowning down here.

Only a few seconds later, you come undone on his tongue. Legs shaking, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He moves back, stubble completely drenched and swollen pink lips. His dick throbs with need, as he roughly palms it through his jeans.

Standing back up, he begins to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the jingling snapping your out of wherever that orgasm sent you off to. Pulling out his thick cock, he gives it a few strokes, watching as precum gathers on the head of the tip.

He sucks in a breath of air, and looks back over at you. Eyes on his dick like it’s the first time seeing it, like he doesn’t dick you down every night till your fast asleep.

“Can daddy fuck this pretty little pussy baby?” he says, slapping the sticky tip against your mound, watching the invisible strings connect the two surfaces with lust and desire. You nod, biting your lip and gawking at what he’s doing.

“Of course he can, this slutty cunt can never say no to dick now can she?” he chuckles lowly. “Always so fucking needy and wet.”

Wasting no time, he slots himself between your folds and thrusts all the way in. You let out a yelp while he moans at the stretch. All of your thinking skills being replaced by thoughts of his dick, and it’s very evident on your face.

He grins, watching you through hooded eyes. “Pull that dress down a bit sweetheart, let me see those tits.”

You comply, pulling the material covering your breasts down, leaving you top naked in the absence of your bra. His calloused fingers twinge the stiff peaks as his hips begin to move.

He’s so deep in you, you can feel his dick in your throat, not like that’s an unfamiliar feeling anyways. He starts off relatively slow, to compensate for the way he plunged into you. But that tenderness quickly vaporizes as he begins to slam into you, the sound of skin slapping and the smell of sex filling the room.

The way your tits bounce with each thrust, the way you keep licking those lips, and the way you keep sucking him in are not doing you any favors of making him give up the idea of pouncing on you like a dog.

Holding back his moans is getting nearly impossible with your velvety walls squeezing his cock; each time his skin grazes your swollen clit. In attempts of shutting the two of you up, he crashes his lips against yours in a messy kiss.

His hand sneaking into the space between the two of you and stimulating your abused clit. And in return, you wrap your legs around his torso.

All it takes is a few rough circles on your pudgy bundle of nerves and a few strokes on the sweet spot inside your walls for you to be cuming yet again. This time however dragging him along with you. He lets out a broken moan as your walls milk every drop of cum out his balls, making him see stars.

Thrusting into you a few more times. He notices the sight of the familiar white ring surrounding the base of his cock before pulling out with a nasty slick sound.

He moves towards your sprawled out body, and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. Kissing your jaw, and rubbing the small beads of sweat on your forehead.

“Daddy’s Girl.”

divider by: @/cisneroto

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (birthday) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: once upon a time ,, they were happy (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) .... here is a not-so-mini mini extra 🌟 happy birthday to jungkook ,, my op irl 🤨

timestamp: oc is nearly a month pregnant !! aka this happens before their break up. jk and oc are 28/29 yrs old in this extra …. during bbydaddy plot they are 32/33 (same birth year just month differences for bdays)

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

"nice try."

"yah, yah, yah! no—d-don’t push me out! honey, if you’re going to push me out... then you’re coming with me!"

jungkook playfully grabs hold of your wrist and starts to drag you toward the living room entrance. after a few steps, you groan and yank your wrist back. with a dramatic huff and an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you place both hands on his shoulders. jungkook groans but lets you push him out.

"this isn’t good for you, you know? you shouldn’t be doing any physical activity that might strain your body. ___, you’re pregnant—"

"they don’t know!" you hush him, pinching his sides. "jungkook, i’m just preparing your cake. it’s not that much effort, and you’re the one making this difficult—"

jungkook stands still and turns you around, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin in the crook of your neck. together, you both gaze at the half-decorated cake. jungkook nuzzles closer, practically squishing your cheeks together.

"___... you threw me this surprise party all by yourself. you’ve been having morning sickness for the past week, yet you got up early to decorate our entire place with childish decorations just so i could wake up to something special. oh, and i can’t forget the fucking cake you baked—"

"it’s not done!" you panic. "it’s so ugly! you’re such a liar—"

"knowing you and your baking skills, it’s perfect."

"you haven’t even tasted it yet," you snap, crossing your arms. he holds you tighter, and you squirm from the change in pressure. "and what was that about the decorations? you think they’re childish? you’re the one obsessed with spiderman! you wanted spiderman themed—“

"because i am spiderman."

"grow up."

"okay... so that means growing old with you, right?" jungkook beams, planting a tender kiss on your cheek. you giggle as he starts showering you with affectionate kisses. pulling him away, you wipe your cheeks.

"yuck."

"you weren’t saying ‘yuck’ when we made a baby," jungkook teases. then he tilts his head back and raises his pitch dramatically. "uh huh! y-yes, jungkook! f-fuck—me... p—please! oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! cum inside... i want your cum so bad—"

"shut up!"

you cover jungkook’s mouth and glare at him.

"do you want cake or not? stop bothering me and let me finish up."

"i do, i do..." jungkook laughs. he mumbles a quick apology as he brings your hands to his lips, kissing them gently, his eyes begging. "___, can you please take a seat and join them? i’ll ask yoongi and jimin to finish decorating the cake. come on, ___... i don’t want you working so hard—"

"no," you say firmly. "i can do it. jungkook, i’m barely in my first trimester!" you reassure him by placing his hand on your stomach. jungkook pats it and purses his lips. in response, you squish his lips together. with a sweet, coaxing tone, you continue, "it’s your birthday. come on, honey... enjoy this. just have a good time—"

jungkook dips his head and kisses you.

you kiss him back, smiling as you pull away. quickly, you think of a way to get rid of him. he hates the way your eyes light up... he just knows you’ve made a plan.

"i have a present for you," you sing. "… but i’ll only give it to you if you leave."

jungkook pouts.

"honey, i told you... our baby is my gift this year!"

you cup his cheek with one hand. "is that how precious your creampies are?"

jungkook snorts. "yes. you have a problem with that?"

"too late if i do," you laugh, pointing at your belly. "i’m gonna have a problem with you in a few seconds if you don’t get out of our kitchen. please—for the love of god—go. have fun with your friends! i’ll show you your present later."

he whines and stomps his foot. you gasp at his childishness.

"jungkook... seriously," you peel him off you. "you know what? you have one guess. if you get it right, you get to have it now. if not, you have to go out and party."

"is it sex?” he giggles. “got you pregnant already, not really sure what else we could do—no choking. i will never choke you—"

"shut up."

he laughs and holds you tight. for a moment, you two stay like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, happy and savoring the moment.

you both had a hunch, but officially found out you were pregnant just a week ago. you’re almost four weeks along, but the news has already sparked so much change in your relationship.

for instance, jungkook has been constantly protective and proactive when it comes to you. yet, you continue to push through and get things done. from work to household chores, nothing is slowing you down. jungkook can’t help but be amazed and deeply in love with you. honestly, it feels like he hasn’t fully processed that you’re carrying his child.

you’ve done so much for him. more than words could ever express—you’ve shown him so much of what love and life have to offer. so when you say you have a gift for him, he can hardly believe it. why would you do such a thing? why would you give him more than this? he doesn’t deserve it. he doesn’t deserve you.

since the beginning of your relationship, you’ve always been incredibly attentive to jungkook. not to mention, you’re adored by his family. from knowing how to cook his favorite meals (so much so that he always looks grumpy while eating) to being the only person he wants to see at the end of the day—you’ve given him so much comfort and hope in his life. to have a baby with you is an honor. he thinks to himself that he must have done something extraordinary in his past life to deserve a woman like you. you're so inspiring in so many ways... you're self-made. you're incredible.

a person who truly cares for him.

a person who is after his heart.

a person who is his entire heart.

see, he’s always believed there are only two ways love can go: to love someone or to be loved by someone. however, after loving you and being loved by you, he’s come to the conclusion that there is another way.

to be love.

that’s exactly what you are to him.

so, because he loves you, jungkook gives in. he hugs you one more time before heading to the living room. he joins his friends and starts the karaoke party. you stay in the kitchen, finishing off the cake.

a few minutes later, you walk into the living room with the cake, and candles lit.

"happy birthday, jungkook!"

everyone joins in, singing heartily. jungkook wraps his arms around you as he leans forward to blow out the candles.

"what did you wish for?" jimin asks.

jungkook smiles warmly.

"time."

before everyone leaves, jungkook insists they help clean up. yoongi and jin tackle the dishes, while taehyung and hobi straighten up the living room. jimin takes out the trash, and you and jungkook pack up extra food for everyone to take home.

once the place is spotless and everyone has left, jungkook suddenly scoops you up, effortlessly hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you into the bedroom. he gently places you on your side of the bed, tucking you in with a tender touch. he grabs the book you’ve been reading from the nightstand and switches on the soft glow of the reading lamp.

"rest," he says softly.

you cross your arms, pouting a little. "it’s only 11:50 p.m... you kicked everyone out so early."

"my birthday is over," he replies with a shrug.

"you’ve still got ten more minutes," you counter, your voice teasing.

jungkook ignores your comment and climbs into bed beside you. he wraps an arm over your hips and rests his head on your tummy, his face nuzzling into you as he lets out a contented sigh.

"should we start thinking of baby names?" he yawns, his mind already running through a list. you laugh softly, setting your book aside, and it doesn’t take long before your fingers are threading through his hair, playing with the soft strands.

"what's the rush?" you murmur, your voice calm and reassuring. "we have time."

he can’t shake the feeling that there’s never enough time, that it’s always slipping away too quickly. yes, there’s always another day, another schedule, another moment pulling him away. but there will never be another this—another moment just like this. he feels the weight of every ticking second, even now, as he lies in bed with you.

is it strange that he’s going to miss this? being wrapped around you, resting his head on your tummy, waiting for your unborn child... it still feels like everything could slip away.

"there’s never enough time," he murmurs, his voice muffled against the soft fabric of your shirt. his fingers trace idle patterns on your side, trying to memorize the feel of you beneath his touch. he wants everything, wants this moment last.

if he could ask for forever, he’d ask for it now.

you run your fingers through his hair slowly, your touch light and soothing, as if you’re trying to calm the storm raging inside him.

"... technically, time is infinite—"

"shut up," he groans, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "don’t be a lawyer right now. i’m being serious."

you laugh softly. "i am being serious... jungkook, we have all the time we need, always."

he wants to believe you, wants to let your words sink into the parts of him that are always rushing, always afraid of running out of time. jungkook tilts his head up slightly, his chin resting on your stomach as he looks up at you.

your eyes meet his, full of warmth and understanding, and something inside him begins to soften. in this moment, he feels it—he just believes you.

"wanna know something?" you whisper, brushing your thumb against his temple, your touch anchoring him. "my time is yours, always."

jungkook shuts his eyes, letting your words wash over him, feeling them confront the ever-present fear of losing time. he feels you shift slightly, your hand moving away for a moment before returning, something cool and heavy pressing into his hand. he opens his eyes to see a watch—a rolex—gleaming softly in the dim light. he looks from the watch to you, his heart tightening with emotion.

"my time is yours... this—it’s so you always know," you say, smiling gently, your eyes filled with love. "there’s always enough time for us. i promise you that, jungkook. i promise you forever."

jungkook is at a loss for words. his heart feels full, and his head is swimming with emotion. he sits up and pulls you into a tight hug, kissing you deeply until you have to playfully push him away. you laugh softly, turning your attention back to the watch.

"i know it’s a rolex and all... but i had it engraved," you say with a grin.

jungkook flips the watch over and sees a date inscribed on the back.

"your birthday?" he chuckles, a smirk playing on his lips.

you can’t help but laugh again. "yes... and it’s also the first time i knew i loved you. remember? we met three months before my birthday. i had a mock trial that day, and you showed up during my fifteen-minute recess with a cupcake. we weren’t even officially together... and you drove in the pouring rain, four cities away, and skipped an exam just to see me. just for fifteen minutes. back then, i remember thinking... you must be insane. but you lit my candle in the pouring rain and kept re-lighting it until i got to blow it out... then, you asked me for my wish."

"oh yeah!" jungkook recalls, a smile spreading across his face. "you never told me what you wished for."

"that birthday... i wished that if i were to love someone... it had to be you... jungkook, you came right on time. so, happy birthday, honey! i loved you first which means i'll love you forever."

that night, jungkook changes all his passwords to your birthdate. not because it’s the day you were born, but because of the precious memory you shared with him. it’s the day his life truly began to change.

maybe you’re right, he thinks. maybe time is infinite. maybe, with you, he has all the time in the world.

in other words; he wants forever with you.

[kimakento]

&team as your situationship

pairings: ot9 x fem!reader ⌙ 0.9k

genre(s): fluff, general

tags: situationship!andteam, teeth-rotting fluff, also angst if you squint hard enough, slightly suggestive (?) on ej’s part

a/n: i actually really enjoyed writing this req n i hope you all enjoy this! <33 [this is not proofread so please excuse all the mistakes]

jo

jo can’t flirt for his life, so when you do it to him he’s way too flustered. (and you do it hourly)

he’s such a loser for you i swear (affectionately) like whenever you utter a single word it has him smiling like an idiot.

even though you guys are unlabelled, jo wanted you to meet his parents. and when you finally did, the word ‘girlfriend’ nearly slipped out his mouth. though his dad did think you were dating.

this man is such a gentleman, his love language is definitely words of affirmation. the way he comes up with compliments makes you swoon.

fuma

we all see how he’s always the sensible one among the teamies and takes care of them, he’s the exact same with you. from paying attention to you, concerned when you’re visibly overwhelmed.

always asking if you’re comfortable, doing anything he can do to help you. but your favourite part about him is definitely his arms (don’t tell him that though). when he wraps you in his embrace, you melt into him.

apart from all that, you’re definitely not satisfied with dancing around a label.

k

vv reassuring and has his eyes always on you. you guys cannot tell me he doesn’t shower you with compliments 24/7.

since he’s really tall it makes you feel safe when out with him. acts of service is his love language. holding an umbrella for you while it’s raining, carrying your bag, helping you change out of uncomfortable clothes and the lot.

although not official, k was definitely the one who fell first but wasn’t sure if you would return his feelings as he was the one who’d gotten you both tied up in this situationship.

nicholas

probably the most possessive and protective out of everyone. even when you post any picture online of yourself he’s frantically texting you.

“take it down. you look too pretty i don’t want anyone to see it except me.” and when you refuse he’ll literally plead with you. (he’s so down bad)

nicholas eventually starts sneaking you into his dorms and spends time with you inside his room. (that had been happening for months until yuma had accidentally barged in and saw you fast asleep on nicholas’ chest and he was not happy about that.)

nicho has always been slightly emotionally unavailable which puts you off from confessing.

ej

it all started when he had come over to yours late at night and he looked too pretty that you just had to kiss him. you still do.

euijoo loves it when you give him pecks all over his face until he gets impatient and steals a kiss for himself. very touchy with you, always has his hands on your waist when you kiss like someone’s gonna snatch you away.

this man acts like your husband of five years that sometimes even you forget he’s not actually your boyfriend.

juju has never been happy at your guys’ lack of a label but decided to wait for you.

yuma

calls you ‘baby’ too much for your own health. and every time you hear that from his mouth, you struggle to contain the urge to smile.

“baby, can you get that for me?” “you’re so pretty, baby.”

though you do frown when you realise that yuma isn’t your boyfriend. but all that washes away when he caresses your cheek before kissing you passionately.

he’s really lovesick, smiling whenever you look his way, holding you hand all the time and even just doing simple things by your side.

taki

he loves it when you’re in his lap, absentmindedly playing with his hands that are around your waist while you watch a movie together.

taki loves the way you call his name, it sounds so right coming your lips. that’s a major reason why he doesn’t use pet names. his name just sounds more intimate.

constantly invites you to ‘not-dates’ and believes that all the cute outfits you wear are for him. (they are but you won’t tell him that)

has thousands of photos of you on his phone to the point where he has a separate folder dedicated for them.

harua

harua’s probably the most calm about it than all the teamies. like nicholas, you’ve seen him as emotionally unavailable because of that. but he’s actually an over thinker, he’s always wanted to be your boyfriend but nothing else.

talks about you to his friends all the time, to the point they all believe you’re dating.

his favourite thing is when you call him cute but he always plays it off by denying.

once you verbalised how much you adore cats (probably because he resembles one) so one time he surprised you by inviting you to a (not) date to a cat cafe.

maki

you guys have a cat and dog dynamic, and it’s so adorable. maki clings to you, always verbalising his every thought about you.

he’s adamant on making you flustered so he always experiments new pickup lines on you even though they rarely work.

this man is so obsessed with you to the point he’s never seen without you. he also makes sure everyone knows you’re (partially) his by always having his hands on you.

wants himself to be known as your boyfriend so bad. it doesn’t take him long before he confesses.

likes and reblogs are appreciated :D

[koiir]

꒰͡  ִ DON’T WANNA BREAK UP AGAIN ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

ೃ⁀➷ Synopsis; Out of the blue, a message is sent from your ex after 4 months from the spilt. But why?

Rin x gn!reader

Notes. angst to comfort . Exes to lovers . Bad communication . Not proofread . Pretty used to describe reader . Wc; 2.6k . Extra fluffy bonus <33

Notification Center

— Rin; hi. I know this is…

What? The food in hand seemed to be forgotten as your fork fell back onto its plate and your eyes widen. Phone slamming onto the table from the emotions all flooding into your mind, spilling to your heart.

This most definitely was not in your plans for today, the single text sent impacting you stronger that you wish it could. But how could it not? You thought for sure you and Rin’s story was over, especially when he was doing so well in his career. Without you.

Isn’t that what he wanted?

The clock that you never pay mind to seems to daunt on you as the tick is heard with the time passing, although you know the answer that lies ahead will be waiting for as long as it can be even if you wish it could vanish.

10 minutes have passed and you can’t pull yourself together to pick up the phone, it’s late and you feel the dread kick in as you prepare for your sleep with your phone calling to you. The only thing you really can do it open the message.

The silence doesn’t help the hallow part of your being, the silhouette of the boy you love has his back turned to you as he doesn’t dare to mutter a word. His eyes can’t see the gleam in yours, yet his aching heart can tell he’s only going to break yours more.

“I told you, I can’t with us. This. It’s suffocating me.”

The words grow more tormenting, for both you and rin. Though your heart can bear it, the drain being one you can handle as it’s for him you wish to help. Your own needs being pushed away. You start to think of all you have done just for his heart, but did he even dare for yours?

“Then why didn’t you tell me Rin? You know you can tell my anything, I just need you to trust me and-“

“You wouldn’t understand! You think that you can help but it’s only a matter of time until you realize you can’t.”

Although it’s just a line to him, the words don’t seem right at all. The need to spill your heart out is desperate to convey the truth and remind him of what is true.

“Just listen to me, you can’t say that without trusting me rin. Let me help you or at least stick by your side, we can-“

“No we can’t. The only thing that will happen from this is more distractions and more arguments to come.”

“Agruments are normal. But this isn’t a distraction rin, never.”

“But you are.”

His head tilts back to look at you, eyes narrow and the sorrow in them make your heart stop. He’s being so serious about what he said. It’s as if he’s on the field, dealing with others as he spares them no mercy.

The tremble of your lip stills as you bite onto it, mouth dry with the remnants of his words lingering onto your being. Why did things turn out this why? Why must he push you away as if you two didn’t have anything special? A whole year and it seems that rin was lost because he never spoke up.

“Do you mean that?”

His eyes shut and look away, a flicker of gleam appearing in them before it’s gone in an instant. As he stares into the distance, you wonder just what he truly wishes to say. Because rin never speaks the truth, not without coating it with some other meaning.

“I can’t let anything get in my way, it’s happening and I can’t let this continue.”

“Why now? After all this time what changed to make you think that?”

“Because you’re becoming a fucking burden and being too much!”

Oh how he wishes he could take those words back, how his mind was filled with nothing but idiocy in the moment. The shudder in your mouth is meet with the tear spilling from your eye. Leaving you to walk away, broken to shreds from the boy who supposedly loved you.

His heart hasn’t stopped beating even though he finished his workout 30 minutes ago, Rin knew it was a matter of time until you would see his message. Hell, you probably already did. Probably left him on seen or something.

The message is still left on delivered, his eyes wonder to the profile picture of you that is still in your contact and his eyes close. You looked as pretty as ever. Even if that picture was taken months ago it was his favorite since it was in the morning while he was still asleep, you positioning the camera to also get him in the frame.

His hands clench around the phone, about to turn his phone off until he sees you read his message. Rin isn’t one to wait around for you, but he must right now. Because it’s you he’s willing to wait for, even with all his screwups, he can at least try.

The only reason as to why he got so much courage to send the text was because he couldn’t beat the fact that you might find someone else, someone who definitely would be better than he is.

But he’s selfish, and he can’t hold this churning feeling all bottled up until it breaks. He’s tried, he’s done so much to try and be better. Because he can’t go back to you if he’s still a broken mess awaiting to be replaced.

The bubble of your message forms as you type, his heart filling with anxiety and fear as he wonders what the hell your going to send. He wishes to look away, although his mind tells him to stay put. He can’t look away once more, no matter if the words that come are ones he wishes to not hear.

Notification Center

— Love; you’re right, I didn’t expect this…

The heartbeat is all too familiar from the past, though now the fear that he might reject opening your message is one he has to take.

The paragraph, similar to his, is rather ling but to the point. His eyes skin through, refusing to acknowledge the gleam watering in his hue of teal.

What makes a hitch come from his throat is the last line in the message, “I think we should meet up, to talk in person. If that’s fine with you.”

A soft smile comes to his face, not bothering to remove it as he can feel at peace once more. Even if you tell him that you two won’t get back together, he’s desperate to see you again. And maybe just maybe, you will have enough room in your heart to make space for him once more.

He feels himself grow impatient as time clocks away, he tells himself to over and over to be not be an idiot this time. That he can’t treat you like he has was others. Because that’s what ruined the beauty of what was once his, all because he let his own self crash into a state of ignorance, just for the hope of his own goal.

He’s early, the steps made don��t cause anyone to bat an eye, although it’s as if on instinct he looks your way. Rin meets your eyes and his mouth opens, staring with an emotion you can’t understand.

Your hands clench tightly as you grow nervous, you heart racing simultaneously with no end for its stop, one look and you’re reminded of how much the boy truly has affected you. Your heart feels its yearn, although you can’t let it go just yet, not until this has been talked out and left you satisfied enough to make your call.

“[Name]”

The call of your name makes you realize that yes, you two are in fact back together (distance wise and talking) and that this moment is one that needs to matter. The truth of the why needed to be brought to light, and if not you just might have to hate itoshi rin for the rest of time.

“Rin.”

The single bench feels smaller than it should be, although it was made for a pair of two. You feel out of place, distant, and like the two of you have created a tension others can most definitely feel. Both of his and your hands hold onto the bench, as if wishing to hold onto something else that is in close reach.

“Im surprised you asked to meet up, because i was such an asshole to you… even though you tried your best for our sake.”

You always did your best, the most admirable thing about you in Rins mind. No matter what, the strength in your soul so strong it beamed to strive for the best.

He can’t hold back now, he can’t even think about letting you walk away with disappointment or hatred for him. You might already, but his heart can only handle so much.

“In the moment, I was desperate to be the best. I guess now I have somewhat achieved that, but it’s not you that was holding me back, I was the cause.”

The nights he spent letting his anger out on his teammates even before the break up was one of multiple, they thought it was from the relationship struggling but in fact Rin himself was the cause.

It’s not as if these outbreaks of emotions were new, rather an occurrence happening from time. With you in the picture to experience him in these moments, it seems as though Rin took you as the core of his problems.

The arguments arising and ending did not in fact help either, they started small as most do. The reason being? You’re worry for his overworking and poor attendance to his health. It’s natural for a partner to care, that’s what others told him, though of course the inexperienced boy wouldn’t know that, not when in his mind it was something that he considered being “pestered” about.

“I thought that maybe, since you were the other part of me that was being so supportive, that I assumed that you would be the core of all my problems.”

“I didn’t realize how much I had taken you for granted, how much time and effort you spent trying to fix me. When all I did was ruin everything with my lukewarm brain.”

“I can’t blame you for that—well maybe, but…it’s not the most insane thing someone can do.”

His head turns to yours as you stare off into the distance, the park flutters away with its people and nature all enhancing the area.

For him, nature sights never caught his attention, though the fact still remains they make you glow in their presence.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that, most do tend to blame others when they aren’t exactly in the best mood.”

“It’s bad yes, but when pressured or stress, people can lose control of how they act with others.”

“But, it’s not like-“

“It did hurt though, a lot Rin.”

His eyes move back to his lap, for once it seems his emotions aren’t being concealed and his fingers are fidgeting in worry. From your perspective, you can’t see the small tremble in his lips as he ponders onto what to say next, the right thing to say.

“I know, I know it did so much and I’m so sorry. I don’t think…I can do much to heal that pain but I just need you to know it was all me. All my fault for your pain and that you didn’t do anything wrong.

I never meant the words I said, you were never a burden.”

You were the home I never knew existed.

He was stupid, so utterly stupid. He might be even more stupid to think of the possibility that you two have another chance. His mind at least knows that you’re the type to let down someone in the most polite way possible, even if they don’t deserve such respect.

“I just wish you would have trusted me, that you wouldn’t blow up so easily without letting me talk. I understand that you can get upset Rin, we all do, I just needed your trust and communication. That’s all.”

You’re right, so right. Rin loved you, so much, but that never meant he could truly fix his other factors in return. His trust increasing, but also one that can be broken in an instant. Communication on the other hand, was the trickery part for him in general. He understood what you meant, that you wanted him to at least try to talk it out.

“That’s why, I want to…”

Rin feels his throat close, his words scared of coming out of him. Why? Why does he fear the worst? Fear that he might not get another chance? Probably, but he’s already here with you waiting, he can’t give up on this.

“What is it? You can tell me Rin.”

Your eyes are now on him, the concern and sincerity still lay in them as you have moved slightly closer to him. He feels more at ease, the sensation in him one that he has missed for a while now. His head now turns to you, eyes wide with a deep wave of emotion.

“Us. I want…you to maybe and try give me another chance.”

The widen in your eyes makes his heart drop, his eyes dare to look away in regret although a hand to his is placed. The contact making a hue of red appear on his face. A flutter in his heart is caused by the warm hand on his, which makes him look back to you. A smile takes your face, a rather bashful one that feels like you wish to hide it. Though Rin wants to tell you to keep it, cause he’s missed it so damn much.

“I can’t lie and say I haven’t missed us either Rin, I really do.

I want this to work, I just don’t want be to be scared again. That you maybe won’t understand and that we can’t work things out.

…I want to take things slow, I think for both of us, we need to learn. Together.”

Time. That’s what’s best right? Then Rin can absolutely wait, his time can be spent on something valuable to him other than his career. Although he can’t help but still doubt himself after your words.

“Are you sure? Is that really what you want?”

“See! You’re doing it Rin, just trust me.”

Your smile is more bright now, face close to his as your hand holds his tighter. He reciprocates, expression softening as he takes in your face after all this time. It feels as if he’s been given the opportunity of a lifetime, the need to be with you is a fundamental Rin will never understand. But right now, it feels as though he understands how important this is to him.

“You’re more than I deserve.”

The best thing I thing has ever happened to me.

BONUS !

“Oh? What’s got you so happy Rinnie boy!”

The players all turn their attention to him, and they think he’s seriously out of it. I mean, why is he smiling softly at his phone?

Oh. Must be you.

“Will you just shut up bangs.”

His phone is put away and a grimace replaces that smile of his, the boys all make sounds of “oooo’s” only making Rin slap the boy who started this all (on the head ofc)

“Heyyyy! You can’t do that to fellow teammate of yours rin! Especially after all that we’ve been through!”

Bachira and the rest watch as Rin relaxes slightly, in the past month, they can tell he’s changed. More than they expected. Presumably because of you and his relationship sparking back up. He tells them you two are taking it slow—which technically you are, but what the notice is fast Rin has changed. Emotionally and mentally.

“Seems she changed him a lot.”

“Yeah…sure does seem like it.”

[henneseyhoe]

Just One More| 4

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: fluff, mentions of pregnancy, smutty descriptions(nun too serious), Lewis being absolutely in love with you and your body, mentions of weight, mentions of insecurity (reader isn’t necessarily insecure though), Dad!Lewis, Curvy!Reader (usually i write for curvy girls anyway sooo), takes place back when you first had your second twins.

SUMMARY: Lewis loves your baby weight.<33

1|2|3|4|

✮✮✮✮

Your body changed after pregnancy, that was undeniable. It changed with your first and it changed with your second. But this time around Lewis really noticed it. It wasn’t a bad thing, but you would rather your body how it was two years ago.

Your belly poked just a little more, your breast were heavier, your thighs were thicker, hips wider, and your pants seemed to have sized up twice. Though it had been ten months since giving birth and you were the same ole Y/N, you couldn’t help but want back what you had just a little.

But you still felt pretty, your husband made sure you did. There were moments you caught him staring a little too hard at your cleavage, earning him a slap on the arm and scolding about the children still being around.

But could you blame him? Who wouldn’t look if their wife was casually carrying around a brand new wagon on her lower back? It was practically just begging him to make passes. He tried hard not to stare too hard, he really did for the simple fact that he wasn’t sure if you were insecure like you were the first time around, but the more he resisted, the more he wanted to look.

You were just soooo fine. He couldn’t believe he had you to himself.

Sneakily, while in the phase of trying not to stare so hard, he’d pass by you in the kitchen, purposely but subtly brushing his front against your ass. Though the kitchen was big enough to do a damn cartwheel in even with a newly added peninsula, he still clung close to you.

He did it often but not enough to where you’d peep it too much, lingering touches on your hips and back along with longing eye contact until you’d break away and he’d take the opportunity to stare at your titties. He got away with it for some time until he brushed up on you one too many times in the kitchen and you caught him by the back of his collar and pulled him back towards you like a naughty dog.

“What are you doing?” You ask, already suspicious. He looks around in faked confusion, gently removing your hand away from his shirt and straightening the wrinkles you created.

“What’d you mean?”

Your head tilts at him with ‘Seriously?..’ written all over your face.

“Is there some kind of force field in the kitchen you can’t get by? Because you have been all up behind me all morning, sir” You pressed, taking a sip of your tea as you watch him attempt to come up with an excuse.

From that point on he knew he had been caught and stopped caring to hide it. It went from little touches and hidden glances to smacking your ass as you walked by him, leaving you a flustered mess, and shameless stares that made you wanna scream into a pillow to gather yourself.

Once you popped out socially and revealed your body to the world, there were mixed comments like always but nothing changed the views you had of yourself as you continued to move forward, and your husband just made it better for you.

It wasn’t always lust in his eyes, he just genuinely loved how he was here to watch nearly every stage of you. From young adult to a grown woman with a grown woman’s body (that he daydreamed about ravishing), constantly changing in beautiful ways not even he could fathom from a males perspective.

You were sexy two years ago and even sexier now, though he’d support you if you wanted to change. But until then, he would enjoy every single curve.

If you thought he was feral before, then how he was now needed a new word. He was on you like white on rice, peppered kisses on the wake up with a side of head from the back if you allowed it, which was hard not to give in to.

When he wasn’t with you or working he was with the children, masterfully getting the older twins to settle down in the living room before he’d immediately go find you in your office and make it his mission to pester you with his flirting. It was hard to be mad at him distracting you from work when he made every little word that fell from his lips sound so pretty.

“Lewis” You call, looking up from your designs to meet his gaze.

“Yes, my love?” He answers with a knowing smile.

“Stop flirting with your wife and go check on your busy bodied children”

He’d groan playfully at you, the word ‘wife’ still bringing him butterflies.

“Fine! You don’t like me today, it’s cool, I’ll change that tonight” He teased as you bashfully scold him once again, him stealing a quick kiss from your lips then making his way back out of the room to do exactly what he was told.

When night would fall he’d offer you a massage to soothe your body from the days work. Not entirely to just be a hornball but genuinely because he just liked to help. He also loved to be near you, to touch you. It was his love language and he got to express it thoroughly in these moments.

Sitting on the back of your bare thighs, he rubs warm oil into your recently washed skin, watching as his fingers dragged along your shoulders and sides, pressing into your back with his thumbs and massaging out whatever felt tense. You moaned happily and he smiles, leaning down and placing a kiss on your neck.

It was times like this that really made you admire the man you chose to be yours.

✮✮✮✮

💌~ i wanted to make this into an actual smut but i got sleepy so fuck it 😭

[tender-rosiey]

more husband!gojo x reader pls😩😩✨✨

breakfast — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I added a bit of dad!gojo, hope you don’t mind <33 @mhsofe

“y/n.”

“yes, satoru?”

“do you love me?”

“hmm, I don’t know; what do you think?”

your husband whines and dramatically collapses face-first on the bed, “don’t be so mean! you’re supposed to say ‘oh satoru! you’re the love of my life who I can never get tired of!’ and fangirl about my charm!”

you merely stare at him before deadpanning, “satoru, I pushed three kids out of my vagina for you.”

he clicks his tongue, “pretty girl, you shouldn’t use such vulgar words! what if the kids hear you?”

you roll your eyes and nudge his side with your foot, “get over here, you loser.”

he complains, “such a bully,” but still moves to lay on top of you. you feel him smile through your shirt and he sighs deeply (and happily like a SIMP) before speaking up, “I missed you.”

your eyes soften as your fingers card through his hair, something that he will never get tired of you doing, “me too, ‘toru; how’s everything at jujutsu tech, now?”

“same old same old,” he huffs and you can’t help but chuckle.

satoru rolls his eyes, affectionately, before asking, “where are the kids by the way?”

you look around and shrug, “I don’t know, but it’s eerily quiet today so maybe they went out with the first years.”

“so I have you all to myself?” your husband chuckles and looks up at you with his captivating blue eyes, “then how about I make you breakfast today?”

he presses a kiss to your stomach, “it will be a five star kind of meal that you will never forget.”

suddenly, you hear a bunch footsteps rushing to your door.

you also hear the screams of your three children combined.

yuto, the eldest, kicks the door open, “NO DAD! DON’T KILL MOM!”

the middle one, mio, nods with teary eyes, hiding behind her older brother.

meanwhile, the youngest one, shiro, just jumps around screaming continuously ‘DON’T DIE MOMMY!’

looking confused, satoru pouts but gets off the bed, nonetheless, “what are you kids on about?”

satoru picks up shiro, who clings to him quickly, and wipes the tears off his face, “I wasn’t going to hurt mommy, not in a million years.”

he looks at them with a confident grin, “I was only going to make her breakfast!”

“EXACTLY!”

it takes satoru a few seconds to register what they all said.

“OH YOU BRATS! MY COOKING ISN’T THAT BAD!” he finally says and they all shake their head, albeit with fear, except your oldest son.

yuto looks at him, with sass he most definitely acquired from you, “dad, you nearly sent mio to the hospital when you made her a birthday cake.”

“I did not!” he hurriedly looks at your daughter, “you liked the cake that daddy made, right, mio?”

your daughter just walks towards you, completely avoiding her dad’s question, and instead just cuddles up to you.

satoru gasps and yuto rolls his eyes before patting his father’s back, “just don’t cook for mom, please.”

shiro jumps off his father’s arms and nods at him slowly, “yes please! we love her too much to have you do that!”

satoru falls to the ground and clutches his chest, “betrayed by my own children.”

he then looks at you, who’s now being hugged by all three, and whines, “wifeyyy! do something!”

you blow him a kiss and even in his ‘suffering’ state, he catches it.

you would think that this meant that you will have mercy on his oh so broken heart, but said heart drops to his stomach at your next words.

“let’s make daddy a pretty princess with horns!”

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[twiishaa]

halloween headcannons with the strawhats (modern strawhat au!!) characters luffy, zoro, sanji, usopp, nami and robin quick a/n i whipped this up in like 20 minutes... i know this is late but should i do a second part?? (please ask me to do law he is rhe love of my life)

luffy ִֶ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

he LOVES Halloween. he doesn’t really get the ideas and stuff behind it, but trick or treating is his THING.

he doesn’t necessarily get why he has to knock random people’s doors and say ‘trick or treat!!!1!!1!’ but he gets sweets anyways.

to me, luffy is in the middle about costumes, sometimes he just puts a stripey t shirt and is like ‘im a pirate!’ but sometimes he puts effort into his costume

loves matching with you though

loves carving pumpkins!! he makes an absolute mess of it though <33

they do end up looking terrible, but that’s how they’re cute!

he loves watching horror movies too! loves the coziness of cuddling with you in the middle of the night

you guys also watch coco around this time of year, since dia de los muertos is around halloween (i am NOT normal about coco i love coco)

halloweens with luffy are funny and full of laughter <3

zoro ִֶָ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

genuinely sleeps through it

he likes going to the parties for the drinks though

half asses EVERYTHING with it

but, he’ll sit and watch a horror movie or two with you, he likes how you get scared he thinks it’s cute

if you don’t get scared from horror movies , then you guys would laugh at the jumpscares together 😊

does not care about costumes or trick or treat or anything but he’ll tag along with you if you decide to go cos he’ll worry about you alone in the night otherwise!

overall doesn’t care but he’ll do some stuff with you because he likes seeing you get excited over it

sanji (the LOVE of my life) ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

personally, I think he’d really be into Halloween traditions

you guys would bake cookies together and decorate them to make them spooky , how cute !

probably has dressed up as a Dracula/vampire more than once and will do it again

when Halloween comes around, you guys are the ones to arrange the party

he likes the dressing up part of trick-or-treat more than the getting candy part, definitely

so you get all the candy !

he lets you put makeup on him for parties (he looks GORGEOUS)

you guys don’t watch horror films, but like … the kinda more human… cuter Halloween films

like corpse bride! and encanto <33 (i know encanto isn’t exactly a … halloween movie of sorts but it’s has that vibe to me okay)

but yeah! instead of being outright terrifying, Halloweens with Sanji are fun and cute, with that tone of scare and horror but he would never do anything to shiver your timbers :3

usopp ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

now…. usopp….

he is a scaredy cat and a halloween WARRIOR at the same time

as he is obsessed with pranks, he capitalises on this time to pull pranks on EVERYONE (you included, soz queen </3)

but the pranks on you are a bit more … calm one may say

watching horror movies with usopp is an experience to say the least

he’s acting all high and mighty but when the jumpscare comes he is CLINGING onto your arm for his life

but, at the end, he denies everything, and he says he wasn’t scared at all…

you both know it’s a lie

also a trick or treating warrior. he goes all out!!

nami ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

another one who LOVES Halloween

the two of you have gone to so many parties…

you guys are planning your costumes from august, getting all the stuff early and definitely the best dressed

sometimes… when little kids come for trick or treat she tricks them by giving the sweet to them and then taking it away last minute but then she feels really bad so she gives them another sweet

you guys also bake cookies for Halloween together

the result? uhhhhhh it’s the thought that counts right

but overall, Halloween with nami is a very enjoyable and fun time where you guys get to dress up tons and no one asks 😊

nico robin ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

oh nico robin save me please

she likes giving little kids sweets in the most normal way possible, she thinks they look really cute in their silly little cat costumes :3 (so do i)

for some reason she’s really good at carving pumpkins like they look FIRE like they are works of ART

loves playing little harmless pranks on you, like usopp, but she makes up for it afterwards with kisses <3

alongside nami has the BEST costume for literally no reason.

you two don’t always go matching, but she helps you look for your outfit !

again, she really enjoys watching horror films with you, she enjoys your reactions to jumpscares (whether you are terrified of them or not)

probably goes as a witch or something basic but makes it look really good

note can you tell i like sanji ... send recs if you want love you bye