#I do not care about cars in the slightest

[rumisgf]

KIRSHIMA BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS

summary: kiri boyfriend hcs because he needs more love. also this has been in my drafts for too long but i finished it y’all, round of applause!

includes: fluff, female pronouns, black!reader cs duh, crack

✧ and the best boyfriend award goes to

✧ before y’all even started dating he was always so sweet to you, opening doors for you whether it was at the food place or a car

✧ he has absolutely no shame making sure whenever he’s around, you never have to lift a finger

✧ he helps you up the stairs, buys you food whenever you’re hungry, even ties your shoes for you

✧ i mean he’s your boyfriend, it’s manly!!

✧ speaking of, one of the most attractive things about him is how good he is with kids

✧ if you have nieces/nephews or baby sibling/cousins they definitely adore him and it’s so sweet

✧ and when you get far enough into your relationship, he’s eager to express that he does wanna have kids one day

✧ if you let him pull out his list of baby names he will be so happy

✧ i think eijirou is one of the men very comfortable in his masculinity compared to all the other men he’s around

✧ not to say they aren’t, but he definitely has no issue doing things deemed as “feminine” in the slightest

✧ besides, manliness to him is about not always having to prove you’re manly. you’re simply just manly.

✧ kiri will let you do his makeup all the time and he’ll post pictures on his story after

✧ and he’ll love if you do things deemed as “masculine” with no shame

✧ no matter how it sounds out loud, he’ll be like “my gf is so manly i love her”

✧ yes, you wanted to pop him the first time you heard him saying but it’s truly just how he talks he can’t help it😭😭

✧ (one time he called mina manly as a compliment and she smacked him dead in his face, though, so he doesn’t say it often)

“wow babe, you’re so manly!”

“thank you eij— wait.”

✧ even though he’s willing to do it in a heartbeat for you, kirishima has a hard time letting you buy him things

✧ it’s one traditional standard he can’t seem to shake and even then he just feels bad for some reason

✧ but weirdly, he still likes when you ask even if he’s just gonna say no😭

✧ it makes him feel bubbly that you still wanna spoil him too and maybe he’ll let you a few times

✧ one thing kirishima loves is helping you do your hair

✧ he already dyes his hair himself so i feel like he’ll be very knowledgeable about hair care

✧ and he’d do his own research for you

✧ mans learned how to part hair, he oils your scalp for you, even washes your hair for you, and he learned how to braid

✧ in return he loves when you help him dye his hair whenever his roots grow in too dark

✧ this man can barely go to sleep without cuddling you it’s starting to concern his friends a lil

✧ it’s the one thing he looks forward to at night and he always hold you so tight

✧ which is completely fine because i feel like he’d also have warm skin

✧ he’s definitely the type of boyfriend to refer to you as his lady

✧ he definitely has clips floating the internet of him calling you that during interviews at hero galas

“oh, tonight i’m here with my lady!

“i’m sure she’s somewhere, she’s still a little camera shy.”

✧ if you’re the quiet type, he absolutely has no problem speaking up for you or just talking when you’re too nervous

✧ kirishima loves picking you up, you could be with friends and he’ll randomly just hoist you up into his arms

✧ when he works out, he begs you to do things like spot him or sit on his back while he does push ups

✧ or lay under him while he does them so he can give you kisses

✧ although one habit he does have is hugging up all on you while he’s still sweaty after he comes back from the gym

✧ i think he’d love a partner who does sports, so if the school has any college teams he’ll try to convince you to join even if you never did sports in high school

✧ he also thinks it would be fun for you and he always wants you to have fun

✧ in general, he loves being able to make you smile

✧ if you’re every having a bad day, he’s the best at giving advice or just comforting you

✧ and not to mention, gives top tier hugs

✧ when you start crying about anything he literally drops everything and runs to you

✧ to the point where even your friends will text him whenever you do and he’ll be there in an instant

✧ eijirou absolutely loves giving you flowers

✧ he’ll seriously find any excuse to show up wherever you are with a bouquet in hand ready to give to you

✧ valentine’s days? flowers

✧ birthday? flowers.

✧ passed an exam? flowers.

✧ having a bad day? flowers.

✧ having a good day? flowers.

✧ just because he felt like it? flowers

“awww this is so sweet baby, but what’s the occasion?”

“don’t worry about it sweetheart, just post with ‘em so i can take pictures of your pretty self.”

✧ in conclusion, he’s the man of your dreams

@ rumisgf

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Shadows at Dawn

Summary: After surviving Cranstead Fields but haunted by it's trauma, Billy finds comfort in the allure of alcohol and blurred faces of the women he's been with, desperate to find something that feels good | Word Count: 3k~ | Warnings: smut, alcohol abuse, trauma related behaviour, emotional distress, casual sex

A/N: based off the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' and the Billy brainrot continues 😅

The dreaded banner of a text at the top of his mobile phone screen stole his attention.

Mum: Billy, love, please ring me xx

Billy stared at the message, the screen's glow harsh against the dim light of the bus. He hadn’t been home much lately, hadn't seen much of anyone who knew him before it all went wrong. His mum’s words weighed heavily on him as the bus trundled through the city, a mix of guilt and defiance brewing in his chest. He knew she was right to worry. He was spiralling, his life a blur of lost weekends and forgettable faces.

Every unreturned number, every empty morning was another stamp pressed into an already soaring depression. He set the phone down, resolving to ignore the message, just as he had ignored the signs of his own unravelling.

He felt awful at first for ignoring his Mum, knowing that she was just worrying, as mothers do, in their own loving way. But there was a tight squeeze about her love. Almost controlling in its intentions, as if she had nearly let her son slip from her grasp once and didn't want to let it happen again.

But he'd had enough of screaming matches with his Dad every time he went over for a chat and a cuppa. Not that he expected him to understand the flurry of anxiety and self-hatred that marinated in his head.

It was the same script every time anyway.

Always 'I know it's been hard but you need to get yourself on your feet' and 'you had something stable and good with Becky and now look at you now that she's gone'. When really, Becky had been the one to insist that it was all too much for her after Cranstead, his sleepless nights, his fearful eyes at the slightest sound that pulled him back into that car on the hot July afternoon, were all seemingly beyond the compassion and care she was willing to give.

Billy had known it was over the second her eyes shifted from comforting and caring, to unnerved and weary. And it was all downhill from there.

As he turned away, watching the smear of red and amber street lamps as the bus clanged over a speedbump, a flicker of memory from the previous night came unbidden. Her face blurred, the girl from the club, looking at him with the usual detached amusement and fleeting interest. It was unsettling how a simple look could feel like a lifeline thrown into his roiling sea of numbness.

An interest from someone, whether marred by the effects of alcohol or not, felt like a small victory. But she was attractive, and in the moment, her willingness to be with him had been enough.

For a while, it made him feel something, anything other than the pervasive numbness that had become his constant companion. It was a shallow, fleeting sensation, a reminder of a life where not every emotion was dulled or darkened by the shadows of his past.

This spark, however minimal and fleeting, was a small victory. It wasn’t about her, not really, it was about the feeling of being seen, of existing for someone else, even if just for a night.

Billy had developed a habit, almost ritualistic in its regularity. Each time he left the club with someone, as morning closed in on that spark once again, unable to face them when they woke up, he’d scribble his name and number on a scrap piece of paper, leave it at their bedside and disappear to wallow in the inevitable shame that would soon follow after. It was an offer, a possibility for something more, something beyond the heat of their bed. 

But morning after morning, his phone remained silent. No calls, no messages. Each non-response solidified the growing emptiness inside him. It was as if with every unreturned call, the world reaffirmed the futility of his attempts at connection. These gestures, meant to bridge the gap between loneliness and companionship, seemed to only widen it. He began to think perhaps that he was just as forgettable as the nights he’d left behind, and wondered briefly what the point was in surviving Cranstead if this was the life he was supposed to lead after.

This cycle had become part of the bleak rhythm of his life. He wondered sometimes why he still left his number, why he continued to make a gesture he knew would likely be ignored. Perhaps it was a test, a way to keep proving to himself that he was still trying, still reaching out despite the numbing predictability of disappointment.

He needed to feel like he was still making an effort, otherwise the spiral would quicken even further. It was akin somewhat to feeling drunk, just not the nice kind.

Billy walked into the pulsing heart of the club, the thudding bass mirroring the beat of his heart, as familiar and oppressive as the tightness in his chest. The strobe lights sliced through the smoky darkness, the smell of cheap perfume and sweat humid in the air. Billy slipped into the crowd, his movements automatic and practiced. He had perfected the art of seeming available but never truly being present.

He approached the bar, ordering a drink he didn’t really want. As he leaned against the polished surface, his eyes scanned the room, not in search of someone specific but out of habit. The faces blended into one another, each one a potential story, a possible escape from his own spiralling thoughts. Yet, he made no real effort to engage. It was easier, safer, to remain aloof.

Billy knew the type of girls who gravitated toward him. They were often drawn by the same melancholy that pooled in his dark eyes, mistaking it for depth or perhaps recognising it as a kindred spirit in their own reflections of loneliness. His height and lanky frame, combined with the perpetual shadow of sorrow that draped his features, painted the picture of a troubled soul, romanticised in a way that was both alluring and cautionary.

As if written from a script, a girl who'd been separated from her mates leaned beside him in some dark corner of the club, leaning against the wall, a double vodka and coke sipped through a tiny straw, and big eyes looking up at him as if they were in the privacy of a bedroom already.

She was exactly his type, or rather, he was exactly hers. Billy could see it in the way she tilted her head, her gaze sizing him up, as if she could peel back the layers of his façade with just a look. There was an undeniable appeal in that recognition. Here was someone who did not need him to smile or pretend. She sought the mystery in him, even if it was only for a quick, interesting fuck.

He thought with some hatred pointed inwards, that that was all he was good for. For a girl to brag to her friends the next day about this mysterious, romantically sad creature she'd let have several minutes of heaven between her thighs.

And after the initial excitement had faded, he would once again fade into ambiguity. Nothingness. Nothing more than just a subject of a story that he had both not heard, and yet somewhat at the butt of a joke he didn't know about.

“I'm doing my PhD this year. I feel like one of those in between girls, half of my mates are married with kids and buying houses and the other half are drunk getting pissed and shagging anything with a heartbeat-”

Billy listened, nodding along, but his responses were sparse. He couldn't shake the feeling of performing.

She spoke about herself, too hazed with alcohol to ask him about himself. Or perhaps it was that she wasn't particularly interested in that. She seemed interested in him, or at least, she imagined herself in bed with him later.

As the night wore on, she continued to monopolise the conversation, filling every silence with stories and questions. She seemed to latch onto him, her laughter a bit too loud, her proximity a bit too close. Billy recognised he was a few drinks deep, like her, and feeling dizzy, but half aware at the same time.

"I swear I’ve seen you somewhere," she insisted, the third time she'd said it that night, squinting as if trying to place him in her memory. "Were you at that concert last month? Or maybe at the park during the summer festival?"

Billy shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just one of those faces, I guess," he murmured, unsure whether to be flattered or concerned by her fixation.

She hummed, a playful glint in her half-lidded, tipsy eyes. After a sharp grimace at the harsh taste of the vodka dregs in her glass, she set it aside and leaned closer, her voice a sultry whisper.

“Fancy coming back to mine?”

Billy didn't even feel the tug of impulse. He just did as he had always done, and left with her.

Her apartment was a small, unremarkable space, sparsely decorated and functional. As soon as they entered, she tossed her keys on a table and gestured vaguely towards the kitchen. “I’m just going to grab something to drink. Make yourself comfortable, I guess.”

The transition from the club to her bedroom was brisk, businesslike. And as he walked to her bedroom, he instinctively pulled a condom from his wallet and shoved it into his pocket so that he wouldn't have to awkwardly find it later.

The sex was just as unremarkable. 

Actually, no.

The sex was okay, serviceable but largely fueled by the alcohol coursing through their veins, which lent an exaggerated intensity to their movements. Their mutual inebriation made them more enthusiastic than the encounter warranted, each responding more to their own heightened sensations than to any real chemistry.

At least this made him feel something.

In the humid air, he watched with a dreamy gaze as they changed positions and between ragged breaths, her breasts moving with every push into her, she slurred.

“I know where I recognise you from…” she started, “...didn't I see you on the news a few months ago…”

Though Billy didn't stop, the question hit him, overshadowed the buzz of intoxication and jolted him back into a brief moment of complete sobriety.

She'd recognised him from the Cranstead Fields coverage.

His heart beat rattled with a guilty rhythm, not from the shame of this soulless one night stand to boost his fractured confidence, but from the sudden intrusion of his other life into this detached moment.

Instead of forming a reply, he pulled her towards him by a hard grip at her waist, lifting her as he renewed his anxious energy into sex, hoping she wouldn't either bring it up again or remember.

And as she moaned loudly, throwing her head back, he closed his eyes in relief and attempted to focus on the feeling creeping up his spine. But the seed of discomfort that had been planted wrestled with his pleasure, and when he finally let out a choked whimper and came hard into the condom, it didn't feel the same.

It was hollow, this feeling. Like shame.

That was the first time Billy started not leaving his name and number. Even leaving her apartment the next day, the embarrassment and vulnerability he'd felt when she'd asked, haunted his eyes and tortured his already withered soul.

He no longer kept track of days of the week, only doing so by how busy or empty the local clubs and pubs were on any given evening. The place where Billy could find some semblance of belonging, even if it was to find some girl who looked at him the right way, now felt like a shackle. Casual sex became a monotonous task. Each time chipped away at him and became less and less effective, like growing resistance to a drug.

The usual pleasantries, once peppered with the possibility of future contact, were now clipped, impersonal. Billy moved through these spaces like a ghost, visible but insubstantial, his presence noted but not remembered. He'd always introduce himself, but doubted they would actually remember who he was.

The girls’ faces, names, voices. What were they anymore? They changed so often, and usually the only sound that came out was a faked moan.

The highs of sex were no longer enough to calm the worsening storm within. Alcohol became its counterpart, often holding hands and guiding him through drunken conquests. And though his performance was heavily affected, he could not bring himself to care. 

One Sunday morning felt a chip more peaceful than the average day. After another gruelling phone call with his Mum, Billy felt the shame and guilt nibble at the edges of him. The worry in her voice had made him briefly think, paired with the unusually sunny autumn day, that he should get out and let the warmth kiss his skin for a change.

Although, Billy wasn't perfect. He found himself at the local pub not 20 minutes later at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, moving towards the bar area, fishing in his wallet for his card and licking his lips, thinking of the pint he was about to have and how it would calm the flurry of anxiety in his heart. Even if it was brief.

A young woman rushed in to stack the glasses, hair up and bright faced. An employee he didn't recognise as his regular barmaid, but recognised her from somewhere he couldn't place in his mind.

She smiled warmly, in a way that made his heart flutter.

“Sorry about that. What can I get you?” 

He found himself just standing there, silent, for a long moment. His brain ticking away, trying to pin her in his memory.

“U-uh, just a pint of house lager, please..” he replied quietly, looking down to avoid her eyes, non-judgemental and kind. 

He watched in his periphery as she pulled the pint, eyes vaguely roving over her as if against his will. There was something familiar about the curve of her hips, the slope of her neck. Had he been close enough before to see these details?

She places it in front of him, and smiles, narrowing her eyes playfully, “I know you,” she muses, “Billy, right?”

His heart skipped. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Panic tightened its grip as he feared the worst connection. She knows Cranstead Fields. Shit.

"U-uh—" he stuttered, scrambling for an explanation or an excuse. But her next words cut through his panic. 

"Don't worry, I'm not holding a grudge about you sneaking off. It happens, right?" Her tone was light, dismissive of any offence. Relief washed over Billy, mixing with disbelief. 

"Yeah, I—Sorry about that. I didn't mean to, uh, leave like that," he managed, his voice steadying as the initial shock wore off.

She waved off his apology with an easy flick of her wrist, the ambient light catching the playful glint in her eyes. "Honestly, don't fret. We're all adults here, right?”

He let go of a breath, looking at her as if she were speaking some foreign language.

"Yeah…thanks for being so cool about it," Billy admitted, his guarded demeanour softening as he sensed no judgement from her. He ran a hand through his hair, a half-smile beginning to form. "It’s been a...well, it’s been a complicated time for me."

"Hey, no explanations needed," she replied, leaning forward on the bar, her tone reassuring. “We've all got our stories.”

"Right, right," Billy nodded, his response slightly halting as he processed her dismissal of the situation. He took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in his chest begin to ease, yet a trace of guardedness lingered. "I guess it's just been a while since I didn't wake up to some kind of drama."

She leaned against the bar, her posture relaxed and open, which seemed to soften the space between them. "Sounds like you could use more drama-free mornings," she said, her voice low and teasing. "Or maybe just better endings to your nights."

He chuckled, the sound more relaxed now, realising her intention was not to chastise but to lighten the mood. "Better endings would be a start, yeah."

"Consider this a step in the right direction then," she replied with a warm smile. She moved to pour another drink for a different customer, her motions fluid and confident, but her attention still partially on him. The casual ease of her demeanour helped dissolve some of his lingering tension, making the space around him feel less constricting.

Eventually, she tore off the receipt from the register, scribbling something on the back before sliding it across the bar to him. 

“Here’s your receipt, and a little something extra,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. Billy picked it up, turning it over to find her number scrawled in neat digits. “No sneaking off without saying goodbye this time,” she added, her tone playful yet sincere.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Billy responded, a genuine smile breaking through his usual reserved facade. He pocketed the receipt, feeling a lightness he hadn’t expected to find that night. 

His eyes lingered as she moved behind the bar, serving various customers, her smile ever-present and her laugh just as addictive. He felt a flip in his stomach, his skin tingling as if the sun had come out for the first time in the cold, long winter of his soul.

Billy found himself surprisingly content to just sit at the bar, watching the rhythm of her movements, the easy interactions she had with everyone. He sipped his beer, slowly, occasionally chiming in when she threw a casual question his way or made a joke that included him.

She’d loop back to him between orders, keeping him anchored to the moment, to the bar, to her. It was comfortable and unfamiliar in a way that both excited and soothed him. As the night waned and the crowd thinned, Billy found himself enjoying the lightness of their exchanges, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him. 

He willed the world to slow, even just for a while, so that he could keep talking to her, keep looking at her gorgeous warm face, to keep a little piece of who he used to be alive the more she eased her way into his life.

Perhaps, if someone could remember his name, perhaps he could start remembering himself too.

dividers by @cafekitsune

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[the-scarlet-witch-22]

convinced every hot girl is constantly dealing with car issues like let me BREATHE

[sirompp]

all these lego tutorial videos are like "TOP TEN COOL CONNECTIONS YOU DIDNT KNOW ABOUT" or "HERES HOW TO PUT ONE BRICK ON TOP OF ANOTHER BRICK" or "HOW TO BUILD DIAGONALLY???" meanwhile im here like

[erwinsvow]

knocked up too young and wearing a glittery diamond ring on your left hand, you had settled nicely into the role of mrs. cameron. it wasn’t tough, not a hard position to play in the slightest—rafe, or rather your husband—made everything nice and easy for you.

it seemed like it was his biggest desire come true, making sure you and his little girl were taken care of. he liked it actually, more than he admitted, knowing the two of you were fast asleep in bed when he left for work in the morning, doing nothing but relaxing throughout the day.

in fact, he had decided the second you had tearfully confessed that you were pregnant that this was the sort of life you were meant for, the kind of life he was going to give you. you were so scared, he can remember it like it was yesterday—your watery eyes and wet cheeks, the way your hands shook when you pulled out the test to show him.

“i-i-i’m so sorry, i, i thought the pills were enough, everyone says it’s enough-” you were stammering and crying your way into exhausation, something he definitely didn’t like. 

“s’okay, kid. nothin’ to cry about.” he was formulating his plan already, being proactive in all matters, thinking ahead to marriage licenses and car seats while you stared down at the positive stick in your palm.

“you’re.. you’re not mad, rafe?” the way you look at him, the world stops spinning. why would he be mad?

“hey, s’done,” he says, hands on your shoulders to steady you, bringing you to the edge of the bed to take a seat. he takes the pregnancy test from your hands, looking down at it himself. “it already happened. can’t take it back. no point in cryin’ over it.” 

when you look up with even more tears in your eyes, he’s half convinced he’s said the wrong thing—but it doesn’t faze him, he keeps going.

“hey, hey. what, you thought i wouldn’t take care of you? this is my kid too.”

“i know, i just, i thought you wouldn’t be okay.. with it. having it.” that’s the first and only time he got stern with you through this whole pregnancy.

“hey, don’t talk like that. this is our baby. there’s no question ‘bout havin’ it.” you nod up at him, tears drying as you steady yourself, regain a little composure knowing rafe’s not mad about this little accident. “y’okay now?” you nod again. “good, call your parents. tell ‘em we’re getting married soon.” 

“wh-rafe!” 

but, like how most things were with rafe, he called the shots and you listened. the two of you got married shortly after, before you were even showing. anyone who even attempted to comment on the hastiness of everything shut up the second rafe stared at them.

you’d be a liar to say you didn’t like it, a fool if you didn’t appreciate how rafe was to you.

he stepped up in every way, better than you could have even tried to put together in your imagination. a place was purchased and had slowly started to become home, with a crib that rafe assembled by himself—though it had taken hours and ended up with the instruction papers all crumbled up in a corner—and baby proofed cabinets and sockets. you laugh watching rafe try to install the baby gate on the staircase.

“you know that’s for when they start crawling, right?” you giggle, a hand on your very pregnant belly.

“shut up. m’being proactive. gonna have no time once she actually gets here and we’re runnin’ around changing diapers and makin’ formula and shit.” 

you’re only a touch surprised with how well-versed he is with all the baby stuff, though you appreciate it more and more since you’re still a little confused and overwhelmed. he makes it all easy, from the pregnancy cravings he runs around to find for you to the pretty pink walls in the nursery. he even satisfies all your other cravings, like around month six when there was nothing you wanted more than rafe's dick in every position you could think of.

when his daughter actually comes into the world, the two of you are a mess of emotions and thoughts, but there’s only one rafe really cares about. when can he give you another one?

it doesn’t take long for him to start trying again—trying to convince you that the two of you can handle two, that little kids need siblings their age. the baby’s only six months old but he’s convinced it’ll be better to have them all young at the same time rather than waiting—at least that’s the line he feeds you.

“no, rafe, they’re gonna be like irish twins. it’s so embarassing,” you say next to him in bed, staring up at your husband. 

“what’s that?”

“when you have two babies that aren’t even a year apart.”

“oh. that’s a thing? good, at least there’s a name for it. i’ll get you a book on it, since that’s what we’re doin’.”

and try as you might, even you can’t resist rafe for long, not when he’s taking such good care of you and just wants to give you another baby with his blue eyes and your pretty hair. you end up in the same position that got you into this whole situation—your knees folded to your chest and eyes rolling back while rafe slams into you. 

“don’t worry, baby,” he breathes into your ear, low and quiet since the baby’s sleeping in the other room. “i’ll get y’knocked up again. won’t have to think about a thing in this world except my kids.”

it’s a shame you get pregnant so quickly—rafe was so fun when his only thought revolved around fucking you full of his cum. 

“well, s’not gonna be irish twins. too far apart,” rafe says, looking at the photos from the doctor’s appointment.

“no, it’s just regular twins.” you don’t think you’ve ever seen rafe so happy.

[princessbrunette]

rafe had been trying to pick a fight with bunny!reader all day due to his bad mood. however, due to her being a little ray of pink glittery sunshine — it just wasn’t happening.

first, the problem was the pink glittery dildo in your dresser that he found whilst snooping due to boredom, waiting for you to be done in the shower. he argues with himself whilst you sit at your vanity, giggling and happily doing your makeup.

“you tellin’ me you need that shit? ‘cus… ‘cus if that’s the case, don’t come begging for dick every thirty minutes when clearly you could be fixing your own problems.” he rants, huffing as you carefully brush mascara through your eyelashes.

“its not the same! pluuuus, i haven’t used that thing in ages. dont even know where you found it, daddy.” you’re clearly amused and it’s making things worse, locking eyes with your boyfriend through the mirror as he stands with his hands on his hips.

“think i’m stupid, right? if you weren’t still using this thing you would have thrown it in the trash.”

you spin on your stool, giving him a convincing pout. “i only use it when you go away on business trips with your dad, ‘cos i just miss you so much.”

he blinks, clearly not out of juice.

“you need to learn a little patience and self discipline, alright — you’ll appreciate this dick more without the fuckin’ silicone version.” he drawls and you giggle again at his word choice before bringing your manicured fingers to your lips to stop yourself.

“m’attached to it rafey. i like it. its pink and glittery and i’m not throwing it away.” you stand your ground, and his jaw ticks, looking around once more at the toy laying on your bed.

“cant do all the shit i do n’you know it… right? you call me when that toy fuckin’ chokes you out how you like it or spits in your damn asshole and shoves its thumb in there. yeah?” he mouths off before leaving the room, caring less and less about the argument as time goes on. now you really couldn’t fight him — he was playing dirty, and that made you horny.

his fighting spirit is given a new lease of life downstairs in the kitchen, when you accidentally blurt out the wrong name whilst speaking to him.

you’re giggling uncontrollably once more, grabbing at his shirt in the kitchen attempting to pull you closer as he holds his hands up, pretending to be totally disgusted.

“nah, who the fuck is that — huh? nate?”

“gosh, rafey — he’s from gossip girl! i was just thinkin’ about the show and your names sound similar! was an accident!” the fact you don’t sound sorry in the slightest is grinding his gears, not hugging you back when you manage to wrap your arms around him. “daddy hug me back.” you pout, and he peels you back with his hands on your shoulders.

“on thin fuckin’ ice today… alright?” he raises his eyebrows. you smile and nod, earrings jangling like there wasn’t a thought in your head.

it’s on the way to the country club that he’s really had enough, insisting on playing your music in the car, constantly winding down the volume to ask questions that didn’t need to be asked. your delicate hand reaches out for the volume toggle once more and he smacks it away.

“if you’re going to ask me if i’d still love you as a worm, or whatever bullshit you’ve conjured up — i suggest staying quiet, yeah? already told you that you’re pushing it today.”

he doesn’t have to look at you to know your smile is spreading.

“that wasn’t my question, but would you?”

the car pulls over to the side of the road with a swiftness, and he turns his body in his seat. you look unbothered as ever.

“why’d we stop?”

“you’re uh, you’re goin’ in the trunk. okay?” he rasps slowly, nodding his head like it would hypnotise you into agreeing. somehow, it worked — because your grin remains.

“okay!”

he marches over to your side and yanks you out before walking you round the back and opening the trunk. “i’m serious. get in.”

you do with no complaints — and by the time he is back in the drivers seat, he believes he’s taken it too far. however there’s no banging around, no crying, no screaming for him to let you out — so he drives away. the silence is rewarding, but he doesn’t feel great about it.

when he pulls up to the country club, he’s quick to walk around the backside of his truck and open up the trunk, relieved to see you happy as a clam — and lifts you out from under your arms. “that was fun! it was like you were a kidnapper, but also my boyfriend.” your eyes have a twinkle to them as he marches you towards his group of friends, gawking with questioning gazes.

“yeah you like that shit? ‘that turn you on?” he bites back sarcastically, but you nod anyway.

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, fem! reader, smut, blowjob, fingering, proofread but I’m dyslexic so may be mistakes

Omg omg omg imagine being König’s little passengers princess🩷🩷

König is undeniably a big man, so he obviously needs a big car. I think he owns a SUV - pretty and, most importantly, spacious car. It allows him to slouch comfortably in driver’s seat and not sit all crouched down like in most cars, his knees don’t bump in the panel beneath the steering wheel but placed comfortably as they should.

Needless to say that his car is filled with your stuff: numerous lipglosses in the glove compartment, your scarves and shawls laying on the panel behind backseats, small pillow along with fluffy blanket are always in the backseat in case you feel tired and want to lay down. König even found some of your jewelry in the cup holder once!

And he’s such a gentleman! You’re simply not allowed to open the door by yourself! Why would you do that, if you have him?! König will always hold the door open for you, helping you get in and out of the seat, making sure that your dress or coat won’t get stuck clasped by the car door. He’s such a sweetheart, I can’t🥺

You often go for rides together. König is a neat and careful driver - he got his license when he was 18 and since then only got one fine for parking in wrong place. You go to different places - locations with beautiful landscapes not far from your place, going to visit his relatives in another city or just night rides around the Vienna. A lot of dear moments between you two happened in his car - your first kiss, numerous deep talks and countless make out sessions in the backseat which ended up with König absolutely fucking your brains out.

But sometimes long car rides can be hard for you. A few hours on the way, you start feeling uncomfortable. Your booty starts feeling sore from long sitting, lower back aching from awkward angle, feet swelling from lack of muscle movements. And you start whining. About how you’re tired, how sore your whole body is, that you need to use a restroom or that you’re hungry. König coos at your pouting face, glancing at you apologetically, right hand coming to your thigh to rub soothing circles on your soft skin to make you feel slightest bit better, promising to pull off at the next gas station.

König would do anything to soothe his whiny little princess. And if it means getting under her skirt in a middle of the ride and stuffing her pretty pussy full with his fingers - he’ll gladly do it. He’s never said that, but König loves loves loves fingering you while driving. Yes, it distracts him from the road, but the cute little sounds you make while your legs close around his wrist in overstimulation as he mercilessly keeps pumping two fingers in and out of that drooling cunny, thumb pressing tight circles against that needy clit.

During especially long rides, when you’re bored out of your mind and music on the radio makes you feel sick, you find a better way of busying yourself.

One of your nimble hands comes to rest on König’s meaty thing, rubbing strong muscle affectionately. He doesn’t pay much attention to that since you do it all the time, only smiling softly to himself at your touch. Slowly you make your way higher and higher, getting dangerously close to man’s crotch. “Y/n, I’m driving” König would always say in a strict voice, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead. “Yeah, but it’s a highway, you just need to go straight” you discard his complains lightheartedly, already undoing the button and zipper of his jeans.

Soon your mouth is filled up with his throbbing cock, drool running down thick shaft to his balls and you suck and lick on sensitive length, paying extra attention to his leaking tip. König groans and moans above you, thrusting his hips up occasionally, making you choke and gag on his huge dick, tears running down your flushed cheeks. He rests one hand on the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down at the pace that he likes and holding you in place when he shoots a thick load of his cum down your throat so you swallow every single drop of it. And make sure to clean him up with that filthy little mouth after that, he’s driving, after all!

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writers feedback, we live for that<3

[lucyrose191]

Hey could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader where she's been feeling unwell but insists she's coming to the track and he's worried about her. Long short story, their son (Jack) with her and she felt like she's going to go faint and she tell Jack to find Toto for her and Toto's being her knight in shining armor,rescued her. Just fluff and comfort. Tag me later. Thanks! :))

TAKE IT EASY| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Toto Wolff x Wife!reader

Summary; Your stubbornness to admit you may be feeling unwell might just be your downfall one day but your husband will always be there to catch you, as will your son.

Warnings; none

F1 Master List

You could feel the worried gaze of your husband from where he was standing in the en-suite getting dressed, he had woken up before you this morning which was his first notification that something was wrong but once he saw your flushed cheeks and pressed the back of his hand against your forehead he knew you certainly weren’t well.

He had tried to convince you to go back to bed but you refused, you were here to support him and Jack was so excited to attend a race again and whilst Toto was more than capable of looking after him, it was just easier for you to take care of Jack and entertain him because Toto still had work to do, a toddler didn’t just want to sit in the garage and wait for their father to finish a bunch of things before having fun.

So you insisted that you were fine and were adamant on going to the track, ignoring the churning of your stomach, fogginess in your mind and how weak your body felt.

Toto wasn’t happy with your decision at all, your health was so much more important to him than any race that he had brought up not going himself but you had shot down that idea before he could even finish his sentence.

So he relented.

You were now on your way to the track, the car wasn’t doing anything good for your stomach, leaving you to lean your head against the window with your eyes closed as you took deep breaths through your nose.

What was meant to be the comforting touch of your husband rubbing his hand back and forth across your thigh wasn’t helping with the nausea you felt either because all you could think about was how similar the touch was to him rubbing his hand up and down your back as you threw up.

Jack was in the back babbling nonstop about how excited he was to see Lewis again and hopefully sit in the car and you loved your son so much but your head was so fuzzy that everything he was saying you were hearing three times and you couldn’t think straight.

"Mama?" His small voice called out and you could perfectly hear the undertone of excitement.

"Yeah, darling?" You slowly turned around in your seat so you could look at him, mustering up the biggest smile you could for him.

"Can we see Charles and Carlos, today?" He asked, face filled with hope.

"We can do whatever you want to do but remember they’ll be very busy preparing for the race so they might not have time to speak with you."

"Okay, and can we see Bono?" He asked.

"Yes," you smiled weakly.

"And Mick?"

"If you want to, yes."

"And Lando and Oscar too?"

"We’ll do whatever you want to do Jack."

"Well I want food before we see Lando," he said strong cause you to laugh.

"Yeah, we mustn’t forget about that," you agreed before turning back in your seat. Of all the days for your son to be riddled with energy, today was not really ideal but you suppose that’s what comes with being a parent.

You rested your head back against the window, looking out at the streets you passed, reaching out blindly your clasped your hand with Toto’s that hadn’t removed from its position on your leg, hoping his touch could help you feel even the slightest bit better.

Toto released a deep breath as he turned off the car and turned to look at you. You hadn’t even registered that you had arrived at the track, still staring out the window in a daze. "It’s not too late to turn around and go back to the hotel, we can go back to bed." He spoke up quietly, not wanting to startle her.

You shook your head and turned to him with a smile, "I’ll be fine, come on, jack’s getting antsy," you responded, hearing your son trying and failing to unfasten his seatbelt.

Your husband huffed in defeat and reluctantly got out the car, opening the door behind his to let Jack out, you heard him entertain his childish rambling and as soon as the door shut you took a second to take a deep breath before getting out yourself.

"Mummy’s not feeling today so it’s up to you to take care of her okay?" Toto whispered to his son, who was resting on his hip, so you couldn’t hear.

Jack frowned and looked to his father in concern for you. "She’s poorly?"

Toto nodded "She’s doesn’t feel well, are you going to keep an eye on her for me?" Jack nodded with a determined look on his face before wriggling for Toto to put him down.

"Mummy!" He ran around the car as soon as his feet his the ground so he could get to you.

"Yeah, baby?" You crouched down, surprised when he wrapped his arms around your neck in a hug.

"I don’t want to see Charles, Carlos or Lando today, can we just get food and stay in Papa’s office and watch the race from the garage?" He asked.

You looked at him in confusion at his sudden change, he was beyond excited earlier and whilst you were relieved at the change in what he wanted, you were surprised at how abruptly he didn’t want to go and see the other drivers anymore.

"Are you sure that’s what you want?" You asked, skeptical as he nodded confidently but you reluctantly agreed.

"Okay then," you grabbed his hand and Toto grabbed his other as the three of you made your way into the track, you ignored the worried eyes of your husband that kept flickering to you every few seconds, the pair of you ignored the fans and shouts of media reporters as you weren’t in the mood to feign happiness and Toto was just far too concerned about you.

You had hoped that as day went by you would start to feel better but if anything you felt worse, you had went to hospitality with Jack to get some food to take back to Toto’s office but the mixture of smells had sent you spiralling and you tried to get out of there as quick as possible.

You and Jack had been in Toto’s office for about an hour and you hadn’t seen your husband in about two.

Jack was being on his best behaviour though, you don’t know where his change in what he wanted to do today came from but he seemed content sitting on the floor with his snacks and watching the live recording of the track on your phone.

You had sat yourself down on Toto’s chair to try and relax a bit but your head was spinning so much and your vision was starting to blur.

"Jack?" You called out weakly, you had tried to sound as though everything was okay as to not worry him but it didn’t work that well.

"Mama?" Jack pulled himself up to his feet immediately, live broadcast long forgotten as he saw his mother even paler than you had been this morning and leaning against his father’s desk, a thin layer of perspiration on your skin.

"Can you go get Papa for me? Tell him I need him quickly." You told him, trying to smile at him but your body didn’t even have the energy for that.

Jack didn’t need to be told twice, he turned around and ran to find Toto, opening the door with so much force that it banged against the wall before closing half way again.

"Papa!"

The Mercedes team all looked away from what they were doing and turned towards the sound of Jack’s panicked voice followed by the sight of him running through the garage with a petrified look on his face, searching for his dad.

"Papa!" He pretty much screamed, fear overtaking his body knowing that something was really wrong with his mother right now and you were alone and he couldn’t find his father.

The Mercedes team were worried beyond belief as they took in just how scared Jack was and how desperate he sounded for Toto who wasn’t in the garage at the moment.

"Jack?" Lewis slowly approached the boy who was stood in the middle of the garage, looking all around him, tears welling up in his eyes when he couldn’t see his dad.

He looked at Lewis frantically. "Where’s Papa?" He demanded.

"I think he’s speaking to someone right now, are you okay?" Lewis crouched down in front of him.

Jack shook his head aggressively, "I need Papa, Mama needs him quickly!"

"Where’s your mama?" Lewis asked as worry filled him. "Show me where she is, maybe I can help her?"

But Jack shook his head "no, she needs Papa, she told me to get him quickly."

Lewis sighed but nodded, a bad feeling was settling have in his chest for you. "Okay, you stay right here and don’t move and I’m going to go and get your dad, okay?"

"You need to be quick!" Jack told him desperately.

"I’ll be as quick as I can." Lewis told him, giving a look to the team to keep an eye on him before turning and quite literally running out of the garage.

People stopped and watched in confusion as they saw Lewis Hamilton running through the pits, looking around frantically for someone.

It didn’t take him long to see Toto sticking out from the crowd, in the middle of an interview with Martin Brundle, he didn’t care that it was live and brutally interrupted the pair of them, grabbing Toto’s arm. "You need to come with me, now. It’s important."

Seeing the serious look in his driver’s eyes, a million scenarios swirled around in Toto’s mind. He didn’t even excuse himself from Martin knowing that Lewis wouldn’t just crash his interview for no reason.

What took him back more was the fact that his driver had started running back into the direction of their garage and Toto didn’t hesitate to follow.

He couldn’t imagine how this looked, Lewis running through the paddock frantically, crashing Toto’s live interview and the pair of them running back.

"What is wrong?" He huffed as they weaved in and out of the masses of people crowding in the pits.

Lewis kept his voice down as he explained, not wanting this to hit the internet from someone overhearing. "I have no idea, Jack was screaming in the middle of the garage, looking for you. He said Y/N needed you quickly so I tried to get him to tell me where she was but he wouldn’t, said she told him to get you as quick as he could, he looked terrified."

A deep sickening feeling settled into the pit of Toto’s stomach as he quickened his pace, he knew you weren’t well today and the multiple scenarios of what could possibly have happened scared him.

"Papa!" Jack yelled as soon as he saw his father enter the garage, running straight for Toto and diving into his legs. "Quickly! Mama said she needs you."

Toto picked Jack up and looked him in the eye. "You stay here with Lewis, okay? I’m going to go see Mama."

Jack nodded, suddenly a lot more calm now that his dad was here and didn’t complain when he was passed off to Lewis.

Toto quickly made his way to his office and as soon as he stood in the threshold of the doorway, his heart fell to his stomach as he lay his eyes upon you, unconscious on the floor by his desk.

He was by your side in a second, kneeling next to you as he rolled you onto your side and moved your hair from your face.

"Liebe?" He gently tapped the side of your face, trying to coerce you out of unconsciousness.

At no response, he pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, grimacing at the amount of heat he felt radiating from your body. Looking around his office, he saw a glass of ice water sitting on his desk, he grabbed the glass and dipped his hand inside before pressing it back against your forehead, hoping it would cool you down a bit.

"Schatz?" He tried to wake you again, this time successful as he heard a slight change in your breathing and saw your eyes moving beneath your lids.

"Y/N, you’re okay, take it easy." He continued speaking to try and coerce you more awake, smiling when he saw your eyes open.

You were confused to see your husband hovering above you, your mind was foggy and your body felt so heavy you couldn’t move your limbs.

Looking around, you found that you were lying on the floor causing your face to contort into confusion.

Turning back to Toto, you blinked up at him and upon seeing the questioning look on your face, he explained. "You fainted, and gave Jack quite the fright too."

Hearing Jack’s name, your body filled with worry and you tried to sit up but Toto’s hands on your shoulders encouraged you to lay back down. "He’s fine, he’s with Lewis."

"Need a drink," you told him causing him to look at the glass on the edge of his desk.

"I’ll get you a new one, I put my hand in that one to try and cool you down," he told you.

You shook your head, "it’s fine," you held out your hand for him to just give you the one on the desk, not really wanting him to leave at the minute.

Toto brought the glass to your lips, insisting on hosing it for you since your hands were shaky and he didn’t want you spilling it all over yourself. "Have you had anything to eat?"

You shook your head, the idea of food earlier had knocked you funny but you know you should probably eat something.

"I’ll get someone from hospitality to make you some toast," he told you, not really giving you the opportunity to refuse, not that you would have anyways. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah, thank you." you replied, sitting yourself up to lean against his desk. It was as though passing out was what your body needed to recover because the fuzziness in your head had faded away, the hot flush all over your body was gone and your stomach was no longer churning anymore, it just felt empty.

"We should’ve stayed at the hotel," Toto repeated for what felt like the hundredth time today and you couldn’t even argue with him this time. "I know," you responded.

"Do you want to stay in here and rest while the race is happening? I can keep Jack with me."

You shook your head, "No, I want to watch it out there; I’ll be fine."

Toto sighed but nodded.

"Mama!" Jack ran away from Lewis and towards you as soon as he saw you and Toto leave his office, you smiled widely and crouched down for him to run into your arms despite Toto’s protests, knowing you still felt a bit weak.

"Hi, baby," you wrapped your arms around him tightly and rubbed a hand up and down his back.

"I got Papa just like you said," he spoke into your shoulder.

"I know, you did such a good job," you told him proudly.

Toto insisted that you stay near him whilst the race was happening, not willing for you to leave his sight incase anything else happened so you curled up on a chair beside him with Jack on your lap, the boy also not wanting to be far from you, with Toto’s large coat draped over the pair of you.

A plate of toast and a glass of water had been set in front of you next to the monitors and there was no way you could stomach all four slices so you and Jack split it.

The media had their speculations as to why Toto and Lewis had been rushing through the paddock but once they saw you snuggled up on the chair beside Toto, still very pale, they could guess what happened but they thought it was adorable seeing how the man would constantly glance away from the monitor to you and Jack to ensure you were okay, his hand stroking your hair away from your face every few minutes.

[simpjaes]

take the back-seat. (p.js & s.jy)

What’s the point in being a third wheel if Jake can’t watch anyway? or the one where jay lets jake watch him get his dick wet.

minors do not interact, otherwise― pls reblog my works

PARING ―  jay x afab reader | jake sim x afab reader

WC ―  8.5k

TAGS ―  exhibitionist jay, voyeur jake, dangerous driving (do not do this), jealousy, mentions of cleaning up clumped cum in a gas station bathroom lmao

A/N ― what’s that? you’ve read this before??? yeah that’s bc i wrote it on my other blog and now i want to shamelessly read it as jay and jake thanks!!!! (i am the original author: ncteez, this work is not stolen)

– read part two here! 

smut tags under cut::​​​

SMUT TAGS ― THICK DICK JAY, daddy long dick jake, exhibitionism, voyeurism  car sex, dangerous driving, unprotected sex, voyeurism, jerking off lmao, jake being embarrassed and Jay enjoying it, jealous jay, jealous jake

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake was used to it at this point, walking in to see you being, quite literally, fucked senseless by his best friend. Each time he had managed to barge into the room when the two of you were going at it, he was lucky to slip away unnoticed and embarrassed for the both of you. He never brought it up, never really thought about it after the embarrassment died down, and never wondered when it would happen again. 

Still, though, it kept happening. 

What Jake didn’t know is that it was intentional. Both you and Jay were aware each time he would walk into a room, stop in shock, and then shuffle away. It was something Jay enjoyed much more than you did at first but, you’ve grown to love it as well, maybe even more than your boyfriend does.

Jay liked to be almost caught on some days, other days he wanted to be caught. What he wants most of all though? That’s to be watched. To have someone turned on by what he can do to you, to have them feel jealous of him or even stare in awe at how good he is when he fucks you. 

When Jake moved in, Jay hadn’t really thought about letting him watch or even catch the action in the process. Jay’s big thing was doing it at parties or clubs when everyone was too drunk to care if they were watching or not. However, the first time Jake saw them was a genuine accident on both sides.

It happened shortly after Jake moved in with the two of you (for financial purposes of course.) Neither of you had issues with having a roommate, considering the spare room and all. It was a small place but it easily managed the three of you.

Jay was so in his head that day when he had you against the kitchen counter, breakfast plans long forgotten when he noticed that your ass looked particularly good in the lighting. He was so in his head that, well, he might have forgotten that Jake could walk in at any moment.

A clatter of bowls full of ingredients hit the floor as soon as Jay made eye contact with his best friend coming through the doorway, your leg was wrapped around his waist as he was attempting a deep thrust into you. Unfortunately, instead of that deep thrust, he panicked and pulled out of you so quickly that you lost balance and sent the ingredients flying straight to spoilage. Jake just looked at him, then at you, and then at Jay’s very exposed cock that still managed to stay hard under the circumstances before he turned on his heel and paced back to his room.

That was the first and only time it was an accident on Jay’s part. Sure, he was into that kind of thing before Jake moved in, but it didn’t even cross his mind to include Jake in the fun until that day, at least. 

That night, Jay sat you down in the silence of your shared room and discussed that he will most definitely be fucking you in all areas of the apartment regardless of whether Jake was there or not and that he wouldn’t mind in the slightest if he wanted to watch.

You reluctantly agreed in the silence of your bedroom, only after mentioning that you didn’t want to make Jake feel weird about it, that you didn’t want him to act differently around the two of you. But Jay didn’t relent, assuring you that it would be fine.

It was fine for the most part, even you started to get a kick out of it from time to time when you pretended to not see Jake stare for a little longer on some days before leaving the room.

Jake just shakes it off each time though. Because of course, it’s hot. Multiple times a week it’s like he’s walking straight into a porn film before having to excuse himself, and it gets really frustrating sometimes, considering he isn’t the one getting laid. All he gets are glimpses of the two of you, the sounds he hears through the walls, and the utter joy the two of you seem to have despite his presence. 

He’s learned to accept that neither of you seems to care what he sees, so he decides he won’t either.

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a warm day in July. All three of you are packing bags and blankets into the back of Jake’s car for the trip ahead, and all three of you are entirely too thankful to whatever god allowed your schedules to line up in order to have a five-day weekend at the beach. It’s a long drive, 12 to 13 hours at least, but Jake and Jay agreed to drive in shifts so that makes it a lot more bearable.

“Did we get everything?” Jay asks as he throws himself into the driver's seat of the car and pats the passenger seat as if it were an honor to be invited to ride shotgun by him.

           You nod to him, admiring his slender fingers against the steering wheel and realizing it has been a long while since he had driven you anywhere. In fact, the two of you mostly walked or got an uber for your outings simply because traffic is a nightmare in this city.

“Wait!” Jake shouts, throwing himself out of the open back door of the car. “I forgot my phone charger!” He exclaims as he runs back to the apartment building door.

And then it’s silent.

“He’s a really good actor.” Jay laughs, looking over at you and then steering his attention to the console buttons so that he can connect your phone for aux privileges. “A true sport, that guy.” He shakes his head this time, flicking his eyes up at you.

It’s pretty normal, actually, for Jay to find reasons to talk about it. Still, you don’t think you’ve ever gotten used to the way he looks at you when he’s clearly thinking of something mischievous, but you always did love what his plans lead to—so you nod at him with a polite smile.

“What’re you getting at?” You say, reaching over to grab his hand in yours. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”

           He smirks at you, quickly giving you a kiss on the lips before pulling back to adjust the mirror in front of him, mostly for the purpose of Jake getting a good view later. Jake is a bit shorter than him, so he adjusts the mirror in a way that it won't be dangerous when he starts his driving shift. Plus, this mirror is only half of the fun. Just wait until Jake gets to the beach rental. 

           At this point, Jake is already rushing back out of the door with his charger in hand, smiling at the two of you and mouthing a small ‘sorry’ before placing himself in the back seat. He is quick to make himself comfortable, leaving himself unbuckled as he lays his legs across the seat and sighs out.

“Any song requests?” You peek back at him when Jay reverses the car and carefully listens to the GPS that cuts through the speakers.

“Oh, yeah actually!” Jake claps with another one of his well-loved fond smiles.  

     From that point forward, the three of you take turns picking songs to listen to. The GPS would sometimes interrupt the best part of a song to alert Jay on where he needs to drive, but honestly, it was going quite well.

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

           Hours go by when Jay finally pulls into a gas station for a break, the road trip vibes died about two hours after you left the house. Songs were being sung less, the windows were being rolled up so that the air conditioning could take over, and Jake had even fallen asleep with the warm sun hitting his face against the window.

            He was pulled out of his sleep when Jay opened the back door so that the man could quite literally fall out of it. Which is funny, you admit when you head over to slap Jay on the back of the head for it.

“Jake, it’s your turn to drive,” Jay says, already opening the gas tank and preparing to fill it up for him. “If you need a bathroom, I suggest you go now.”

           Jake nods his head and then rubs his eyes so that they can adjust to the bright lights of the gas station. The sun is going down and now he realizes why Jay preferred to drive during the daytime hours. It’s definitely going to be a rough next six hours but, he thinks the sandy beaches and colorful shaved ice will be worth it all in the end. 

He lets out a long and loud yawn before heading inside the gas station to relieve himself and find a couple of snacks. By the time he got to the snack aisle, he crowds up beside you and asks for help in debating on if he wanted salty or sweet.

“You can get both, y’know.” You say, looking up at him with your own handful of snacks for both you and your very hungry boyfriend.

           Jake looks down at you with sleepy eyes and then moves his gaze to the crinkled bags of candies and chips.

“Oh! Sick!” He yells, suddenly very awake. “They got frosted animal crackers! I haven’t had these since I was a kid!”

           You chuckle in endearment at him, nodding at his selection.

“Don’t forget to grab something to drink to wash all of that sugar down.” You clap with him because his joy always seems to seep into your own mood. Still, you were ready to free your hands up from these snacks so the small joyous moment doesn’t last for too long. 

You slink away from him with ease, leaving him to debate on if he wants one packet or two packets of frosted animal crackers as you make your way to the cash register. 

           After purchasing your snacks you’re quick to head back to the car where Jay raises a brow at you when you attempt to get back into the passenger seat.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” He asks, flicking his head to the back seat as if to tell you he wants shotgun. You shrug in response, piling into the back with ease and without question, feeling more comfortable with the space it has to offer anyway.

            But, when Jay finishes gassing up the car, he doesn’t get into the passenger’s seat. He, instead, scoots into the seat next to you and leans forward between the two front seats in order to adjust the mirror a little bit more.

“Fuck yeah.” He says with a snide voice, peeking over at you as he leans back to get himself comfortable. You look at him with curiosity, wondering why the fuck he keeps messing with the mirror.

“What are you scheming? For real this time, tell me.”

           Jay darts his eyes to the window of the gas station to look for Jake, and thankfully he’s still at the cash register paying for his stuff—probably because the dude likes to make conversation and refuses to read the signals of people just wanting to do their job and not hear about what his plans are for this trip. Then he leans in close to you, placing one hand on your thigh and the other against the nape of your neck.

           If anyone else were looking at the two of you, it would look as if he’s about to make out with you—which would be fine, but he isn’t.

“Jake’s not gonna be able to run away this time.” Jay whispers as if the man inside the gas station can hear him. You furrow your brows a bit at his words before smiling with the same evil grin he gives to you.

“And did you not think to ask me if I even wanted to?” You shrug him off, pressing him away from you and turning to face the window, still smiling.

           You’re definitely in on it but this isn’t exactly the safest way to do this. Still, your boyfriend has always been an adventurous one. Plus, you’re still gonna be a brat about it. Jay likes when you’re being difficult, and for the most part, knows you’d genuinely stop him if it were something you didn’t want to partake in.

“Of course you want to, I see the way you watch him when he sees us—” Jay gripes, glaring at you. “He can’t have you, but he can watch.”

           You shrug at him again, acting as if you could care much less about this plan of his, but he can see that glint in your eye and the smile on your face.

“This is why I love you.” He says in a simple voice at the obvious confirmation on your face, and then he looks back to see that Jake is making his way back to the car.

“Don’t you think we should ask him first though? What if he doesn’t want to watch?” You quickly let out, knowing you’re down for the plan but still wanting Jake to be comfortable. 

Jay is quick to shake his head at you. He knows his best friend is a fucking pervert. 

“Relax, he pops a boner every time he sees us.”

           You nod because he definitely does.

“If he says to stop, we can stop, okay?” Jay goes to reassure you again, but the conversation is cut short by Jake parking himself into the driver’s seat with a questionable look towards the two of you.

“No one is going to sit up front with me?”

           Honestly, the way he says it seems so sad that you almost wanna say fuck the plan just to keep him company.

“I want to sit with my girlfriend since I haven’t gotten to in the past six hours?” Jay argues, kicking the back of Jake’s seat playfully.

“Bullshit! You were sitting up here with her the whole time! Who is gonna sit up here and keep me awake?!”

           Jay is very well aware that Jake will definitely be able to stay awake. No question about it.

“I want to look at my girlfriend since I haven’t been able to take my eyes off the road for the past six hours. Stop complaining.”

           Jake looks at Jay through the mirror, aware that it’s been positioned differently. Internally, he thanks his friend for not only adjusting the mirror for him, but the seat too. Less work on his part, honestly. 

“You guys are the worst.” He complains, starting up the car and connecting his own phone to the system in order to continue the navigation and music on his own accord.

           Then it’s silent. Jake starts to gently hum songs to himself as he gets into the groove of driving and you are in the back, with your boyfriend close by silently talking about god knows what. Jake feels comfortable despite the fact that he knew he would be the third wheel during this entire trip. Still, he really did think one of you would sit up front to keep him company.

            ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

           Several hours later, Jake begins to feel sleepy again just as Jay wakes up from his own nap. You managed to stay awake the entire time because honestly, it wasn’t exactly easy to fall asleep with Jake up there grabbing into his loud-ass bag of animal crackers.

           You just sat there in silence with your boyfriend using your legs as a pillow as he made his attempts at a comfortable nap, and you could tell he did manage that because of the way he fell asleep with his mouth open. You loved seeing him like this though, comfortable and warm against you. It’s really the only time it’s ever quiet when the two of you are together anyway, so you find the silence in this aspect quite enjoyable.

Typically, Jay is a quiet person. Not when he’s with you though, and certainly not when he’s with Jake. 

           Around you and Jake, he can typically be found forcing an argument about some bullshit he’s decided to be passionate about on that particular day, or perhaps talking shit about other people that, more than likely, didn’t mean to step on his toes. Other times, he’s dirty talking to you with such a booming and confident voice that Jake has no choice but to hear it through the walls.

           Jay isn’t a quiet person ever when he’s within his own friend group, save for when he is asleep and that’s why, when he peeks an eye open and stretches in the cramped space against you, you become hyper-aware of the plan the two of you spoke about earlier.

           You’ve been thinking about it the whole time since Jake started driving actually, realizing that the mirror is positioned in a way that would give him a perfect view of the backseat and the street behind him. All he has to do is adjust his eyes to where he wants the priority to be.

Surely, with Jay awake now, the priorities will change. 

           It’s dark now, rarely passing by another car every ten to twenty minutes you can guess. The music is still silently playing and the GPS is cutting in less and less with the long stretches of highways it has navigated the three of you to.

           The car is smooth, there are no bumps in the road, no clouds in the sky to keep the moonlight from coming in, and no cars to distract Jake from what’s surely going to happen next.

           And you were right. You knew you would be.

“Baby,” Jay lifts up and whispers in your ear, quiet enough to where Jake can’t hear him. “He looks a little tired—” 

           You look over at Jay with warm cheeks, already feeling the excitement and anticipation of what’s to come. He’s always so ready after a nap if you’re being honest.

“He does, doesn’t he?” You confirm to him, a little louder this time. Jake doesn’t falter or look back at the two of you through your hushed conversation though. Instead, he turns his music up a little more so that the two of you can discuss whatever it is you’re whispering about without him intruding.

“Should we wake him up a little bit?” Jay chuckles out through another whisper, already glancing down at your thighs. They’re bare in the loose pajama shorts you chose to wear for the car ride. 

“Yeah?” He asks again, this time reaching over and hooking two fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

           All you do is nod at him because any time he wants it, your body immediately reacts in the way it should. It’s almost like he’s managed to train your body to warm itself up the moment he even suggests sex.

           Jay is very quick to take that nod as the green light to get to work. He palms himself gently with one hand to work himself up and uses the other hand to pull you against him. He makes it obvious that it’s a show when he positions both of you in the middle of the back seat, but doesn’t care if it looks dumb considering Jake likely won't be paying attention to where you’re sitting but, more worried about what it is you’re doing.

           He palms at himself until his cock is restrained against his sweatpants, eyes concentrated on you where his fingers trace back and forth under your waist band. It really doesn’t take much for either of you, the small touch alone always gets you to start squeezing your thighs together.

“Yeah” He raises a brow at you, wanting that last little confirmation from you and glancing down at his bulge beneath his pants. 

You look back at him with an eager and small smile, replacing his hand with yours. 

“Yeah.”

“I’m ready when you are, baby—” He whispers out to you this time, more gently, and more for you than for Jake to eventually notice. Feeling the way your hands softly prod and press against his bulge with a sense of…nervousness.

           You look at him, and then down at his bulge—for some reason, it looks more delicious in a moving car being illuminated by moonlight than it does in your apartment. Jake is barely in your thoughts now when you reach a hand over to pull it out, stroking it little by little until you can hear him gasp quietly to himself at the friction.

           You jerk him off for a few minutes before he reaches over to touch you, only because he knows that you get wetter after you’ve been touching him for a while without any friction of your own—and he’s definitely right about that.

 Side by side, your hand is slowly picking up the pace, circling around his length and twisting your wrist at the head. Only then does he let his hand slide into your shorts, straight down to where you, by now, actually need his fingers. 

He can feel the slick almost instantly when he reaches your folds and firmly presses his palm against your clit. There’s somewhat of a groan that’s pulled out of his throat at that. The act alone is enough to get him hot and bothered, but knowing you’re already so fucking wet only amplifies the way his cock twitches in your hand. 

           Jake doesn’t notice a thing until he hears you breathe out loudly, mostly because Jay didn’t quite enjoy the fact that he hasn’t noticed yet. That sound you just made was solely to get Jake to look, and Jay pulled it out of you by plunging two fingers into you without warning, pressing his palm tight against your clit without warning.  

It sends shivers down your spine, momentarily forgetting the small space you’re restricted by when you kick your legs out only to be met with the resistance of the back of the seats. Jay loves it. The way you spread your legs out at the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut, clenching said fingers. 

He picks up the pace, feeling a dribble of his pre-cum spill against your stilled hand on his cock. And then? He glances up into the mirror to note that, yes, Jake is absolutely fucking watching. His sleepy eyes adjusting to the way your hand is wrapped around a cock a bit too thick to let you close your hand around it entirely, and, well, those spread legs, of course. 

And then? Jake shifts his eyes away the second he notes Jay glancing up. 

           Oh. So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Jay internally hates the fact that the two of you can be so absolutely shameless like he isn’t even here. That he can and fucking will just have a go at you right in front of him like this when he has nowhere to run, yet, Jake still pretends it’s not happening, even with his eyes practically boring holes into the two of you. 

           Jake turns his music up more now, drowning out the small gasps the two of you are letting out and trying to keep his focus on the road. He can just pretend this isn’t happening, after all, it’s really not his place to like, watch what’s happening.

No matter how much he wants to.

           And when Jay hears the music turn up, he knows that Jake still hasn’t caught on and smirks over at you, plunging a third finger in and watching you gasp a little louder this time. He does it again, with more force, and then again, and again, until you’re almost whining and rolling your hips forward against his fingers so you can receive more pressure. So you, in your own little world, can force his fingers to reach ever deeper inside of you. 

Then, it stops. Your head spins at the emptiness within you when you snap your head to your boyfriend. 

           There’s a low chuckle from Jay’s throat when he pulls his fingers out of you and swipes your hand away from his cock—he leans forward quickly and kisses you. You already feel overheated in this small cramped space, but feeling Jay’s lips against yours right now only makes it feel hotter, especially when he licks against your tongue in a way that shows you how much he wants you.

           You kiss back with the same energy and he knows exactly what it means, just like you. The two of you know exactly what each other’s cues are. When the green lights go and the red lights flash—you’re both entirely in tune every fucking time.

           Jay is quick with his hands, keeping his lips connected with yours when he pulls at you, trying to drag you onto his lap where his cock stands tall and glistening from the precum. You squeak out a small sound at him, turning your back to the front seat and easily throwing your leg over Jay to sit exactly where he wants you.

“Should we let him see more?” He leans in to look at you, but honestly can’t really contain himself from doing it anyway. 

This is the first time he has ever done this sort of thing with you in a car, and it’s the first time Jake has nowhere to run so that he can act like he doesn’t like watching. Jake should be thanking him, honestly. There are no morals at this moment and Jay thinks it may be the hottest thing he’s ever done. 

“I don’t think I can wait—” Jay chokes out now, answering himself when he feels you lean down to kiss against his neck with a humming sound coming from your throat. He’s already grinding up against you and releasing his own groans at this point, unable to ignore the fact that he needs to be inside of you right now, simply because this is his fantasy. 

           He quickly hooks his fingers into the crotch of your loose shorts, pulling both the shorts and panties to the side with ease before pressing up, you match his actions and sink down, feeling his length stretch you open inch by inch. The girth of his cock is always a struggle to fit at such a quick pace, still, he fills you to the brim when you struggle to sit further down. Thrusting up while simultaneously pressing you down by the hips. 

           It feels more desperate this time. Usually, the touching can last for upwards of an hour —but your boyfriend is looking so desperate and so good right now that you can’t really bare to resist him or his harsh thrust into you. Mostly because he always manages to make you feel just as fucked up as he does in any given situation. Enough to forget where you are. Enough to forget anyone is watching at all. 

           And as Jay feels your cunt squeeze around him, slowly beginning to spill your own wet onto his balls, he glances up into the mirror again—lips slack as he gasps out for you, a small and wordless praise at how tight you are, and then he smirks because there is Jake’s eyes, looking directly back at him, struggling now to keep his gaze where it belongs: on the road. 

Right then and there, Jay makes a point to thrust into you for the first time with full force just so Jake knows that he’s aware that he’s watching, and he wants him to watch. For Jake, one could even say. 

           When he does it, you immediately gasp out at his cock tearing you open with that one tight thrust. You’ve barely managed to adjust fully, but goddamn is he deeper than usual at this angle. You can feel his length pulse inside of you which was enough already to have you panting against him, but now? As he slowly thrusts in and out, holding you up by your hips? 

“God, Jay.” You groan, dropping your head to his shoulder as you see stars just from the lack of adjusting. 

At those words, he’s only inclined to fuck a bit faster, sending a tingle of pain and pleasure straight through you as your jaw falls slack against him. 

           Jay hold your hips, helping you stay slightly elevated above him so that he can drive his cock into you, again and again, stretching you out and dragging against your walls at such a quick pace you literally can barely take in a breath—and when he moves a hand up to pull up to his lips by the back of the neck, his eyes are dark when you finally look at him.

           He lips are still parted, he is out of breath and his eyes are hooded, still fucking up and into you with so much stamina. Too much stamina, actually, after his six hour driving shift. 

“He’s watching,” He whispers against your lips, catching them just for a moment in a heated kiss before he continues. “Show him how much you love me.”

           That alone causes you to moan out, the very idea of Jake watching hitting you directly in your stomach more than it ever did before, back when he was so quick to leave the room.

“Jay—I wanna see,” You stammer out in a small hiccup as he continues to practically fuck himself as hard as he can into you. 

He only smirks with a breath at your request, gripping your hips even tighter before pressing you down, forcing his leaking cock into you ever deeper. He intentionally flexes it inside of you, smiling at the wince on your face at that constant stretch he always gives to you.

“You wanna see Jake watch you get fucked?” He asks in a smug and breathy voice, leaning to lick a stripe against your neck. “You’re so dirty—” He adds in a half-moan, releasing your hips and pulling back to look at you again when you immediately lift on your knees for relief. 

“Turn around then.”

           You do, carefully pulling him out of you with a wince of relief and shuffling your way around to sink back down on him again, this time with your back to his chest. Mostly so you can make direct eye contact with Jake this time, now that you know he’s watching.  

You’re a little nervous but your thoughts are spinning so quickly that you don’t really care about any of that right now. If things are awkward after the car ride, it’ll be because Jake won't admit to liking it.

           Which he clearly does, when you see his eyes flicking from the road back to the mirror with furrowed brows. You make a point to keep your eyes on him when you slide back down on Jay’s cock, leaning yourself against his chest and resting the back of your head on his shoulder. 

This time, Jay keeps his hands at your thighs, one spreading your legs and the other hooking your shorts and panties to the side—holding them in place so that Jake could get a full view of his cock stuffing you entirely. 

He can imagine how painful the stretch must look. Damn, your pussy always does grip when he’s burying himself into you. He’s almost jealous of the view. 

           That’s when you physically see Jake shiver as he darts his eyes down to what you presume to be the very spot Jay is displaying for him right now but, your attention is very quickly pulled away when Jay thrusts up, placing his chin on your shoulder and gripping your thigh even tighter to keep your legs open.

“Look at him—” Jay demands in a whisper when he bucks into you again, turning his head only slightly to whisper this time. “He’s loving this.”

           And he is, as unfortunate as it is.

 Jake is unable to drown out the sound of your moans with his music, he doesn’t even want to drown them out at this point. He could barely pull his attention from the mirror at first, but now? He definitely can’t now. Jake is keeping his eyes on the road only to glance back up and see a full view of your face staring back at him, your pussy pulsing around his own best’s friend’s cock—It’s a bit much, he will admit but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s harder than he thinks he’s ever been when watching the two of you. 

Mostly because, this doesn’t feel accidental now.  With the way you’re either moaning and rolling your eyes back before looking dead at his eyes in the mirror, or you’re reaching down to spread your pussy out even more for him to see. Wiggling and wincing at the way Jay’s cock forever stretches you past your own limit. 

Jake feels like he’s going fucking insane watching this, unable to bring himself to outwardly groan at the image just yet.

           Unfortunately, that happens anyway. Against his will, even. His throat forces a groan out of him when he notices your blown pupils staring back at him as you gently bounce behind him. He can fucking hear how wet you are as you bounce, he can hear the desperate breaths and the pornographic moans—it’s taking everything in him not to pull this car over right now and take Jay’s place.

           But he can’t. You’re not his to share. And while he can’t pull over to take over—he can, at the very least, attempt to release his own tension.

           He is trying to be sly when he moves one hand from the steering wheel down to his own pining and jealous cock, palming himself through the soft fabric. He moans at the sensation without intention at the same time you do. Forcing his eyes to darken as you stare at him in the mirror. 

           You’re maintaining as much eye contact with him as you can, but it’s becoming difficult each time Jay whispers small praises in your ear.

“You must look so good from his angle, I’m so fucking jealous—” Jay grunts out against you, now holding you down again and taking over by thrusting into you with powerful, tight thrusts.  “Are you spreading it out for him?”

           You nod against Jay, finally allowing yourself to throw your head back against his shoulder again, this time swirling your own hips against him and using your fingers to spread your lips out impossibly wide for Jake. 

           Jay hums out at that, relaxing his body beneath you so that you could work your magic on him for his best friend. He holds onto your hips for a moment before glancing up again at the mirror. 

He can see that Jake is driving one-handed and smirks to himself about that.

“Is he getting off right now?” Jay chuckles quietly as he moves your hair from the side of his face and uses the other hand to grip your chin and forces your eyes back to the mirror to witness what he’s witnessing himself.

           You just moan at the sight, not only noticing that Jake is clearly still watching, but he’s moving too, his shoulder moving in a very obvious way in which would tell practically anyone that he’s fucking his fist as best he can right now.

“Talk to him.” Jay demands this time, wincing at the way immediately you pull yourself up and prop yourself on the center console, head peeking far enough past the seats to see exactly what Jake is doing and startling him enough that he swerves the car only a little bit in panic.

           Jay stays leaned back in his seat, staring down at your ass and the way you bounce, forcing his cock in and out at such a beautiful pace at this point, no more pain in regards to his thickness. Just full on stretched pussy gripping him with each slide. 

God, the view is always so fucking good. 

           You’re easily riding him now, perched up so that you can dirty talk his best friend just to get a rise out of him, Jay is loving it as he reaches a hand forward to spread your pussy out around his cock before pressing down on your back so that you sit against him harder.

           You moan out next to Jake, attempting to keep your composure when you look down at his length pressing heavily against his pants. “Are you watching us?” You ask, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue.

           Jake can see your body moving even though he can only see your face in his peripheral vision, unable to face you completely—it’s kind of killing him that you’re just talking to him while getting fucked. He’s embarrassed, but what the fuck else is he supposed to do?!

“It’s okay, Jakey—” You coo out, the pet name coming out like honey against your tongue. “We want you to watch.” You urge him on, seeing him immediately move his hand back to his cock.

           You stare down at it, wondering how big it is and how good he is with his hands, but you know your boyfriend probably wouldn’t appreciate that much. 

So, you whisper very quietly, leaning a bit more towards Jake as you watch his fingers grip his cock tighter than they were gripping the steering wheel earlier. “Why don’t you pull it out?”

           Jay heard it, and honestly, he would normally be jealous because he will not share you with anyone under any circumstance, but the fact that he wants his own best friend to watch kind of calls for at least letting him cum right? By his own hand though, no more, no less.

           You feel Jay thrust a little harder into you this time, pushing and holding you down by your hips. Knowing he’s kind of become the third wheel himself, despite actively fucking into you. 

He fits himself into you with a force that tells you not to push it with Jake any further though, and you listen to his body language the same way you would with his words.

“Jay is okay with it, but you can only watch—okay?”

           Your sweet voice hits Jake's ears, slightly moaning with each word. He knows you’re feeling good right now and he can’t contain it anymore. He can no longer pretend like he doesn’t think about watching the two of you like he doesn’t go and rub one out in his room each time he sees it.

           That’s when he finally uses one hand to pull his sweats down with one tug, eyes fixated on the road as he listens to you. He knows you’re watching him, and doesn’t know what else to think about aside from the fact that his cock is springing out and leaking heavily against his t-shirt. Showing you how badly he fucking wants it.

“Oh—” You gasp, and Jake isn’t sure if it’s for him or for Jay.

 You would never admit that it’s because of how much bigger he is in length compared to Jay, and how perfectly it fits into his hand, with those long and pretty fingers. 

           Jay is becoming increasingly jealous though, especially with the way you begin to bounce against his cock as if Jake is doing something that really gets to you, but goddamn it feels so good that he can’t bear to stop you. Hoping to god that Jake doesn’t manage to steal his girl from him while he’s literally balls deep.

           He throws his head back this time and just lets you fuck yourself on him as you talk to Jake. You’re unable to stop yourself from riding Jay in a way that seems entirely too out of character for you. But when you look back, your boyfriend seems to really be enjoying himself.

           You turn your attention back to the front, seeing now that Jake is moving his hand much quicker, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he desperately attempts to drive the speed limit at the very least.

“I bet you wish it was you, don’t you?” You urge him on, watching his reaction each time you speak to him. “Bet you wish you could feel how wet I am, Jakey, right?”

           Jake can’t even contain his nod, moving his fist up his length at a quicker pace than before. 

“Show me how you’d d—” You’re cut off with a moan when Jay reaches forward and grips your hips again, taking over for you and aggressively fucking into you at a pace that shows you that he’s either pissed or about to cum.

“Show me how you’d do it, ” You repeat through the thumping of the thick cock inside of you, attempting to keep a level voice as Jay aggressively spreads and grips your ass, grunting through each thrust.

           Jake finally turns to look at you for a moment, a very short moment, and then intentionally fucks up into his hand once, twice, and then a third time before shooting his eyes back to the road in a panted groan. 

He wants to show you just how hard he would fuck you right now if he were given the chance.

           The way he moans throws you for a loop, much deeper sounding than your own boyfriend’s but the sound of it hits your core and spreads heat throughout your body. 

You instantly reach down with one hand to circle your clit, clenching around Jay as he attempts to pull you back to him—but you stay in place, eyes trained on Jake’s cock being pumped relentlessly. You know he’s showing you the way he would fuck you, and goddamn he would probably be so good at it.

“Shit—” Jay chokes out. “Baby—” He warns this time.

You’re not sure if your boyfriend is telling you to pull off to prevent orgasm, or simply warning you that he’s absolutely about to fucking obliterate your cunt as best he can, all for Jake to watch. 

Jay can tell you’re rubbing your clit, at least, but fuck you’re so goddamn wet. His cock slides in and out of you so much easier compared to some days and it feels so good to him. Warm and wet walls hugging him, pleading for his cock to keep going, and going, and fucking going. 

He feels so good inside of you right now, more than usual, in this tiny space that the car offers. With your pretty moans, and maybe even Jake’s moans on top of it all. It’s a bit overwhelming, Jay can admit, as he suddenly, and desperately wants all three of you to cum with him. 

Thankfully for Jay, you also desperately want to see Jake cum, and you hate to say that it’s kind of Jay’s fault for prompting all of this. Including the fact that you’re only pressed between these fucking seats watching him work himself because your boyfriend told you to talk him through it. 

“Are you going to make me cum?” You ask out to Jake suddenly, sighing between your words and wondering why the fuck you just said that but, it sets off a fire in the man with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping his cock.

           It gives him the illusion that he is fucking you, and that he will make you cum.

“Come on, Jakey, Jay’s close too.“’

           And just like that Jake is squeezing himself so tightly, dragging his hand only once up his length before he’s nearly slamming his foot on the breaks.  He lets his foot off of the gas instead, thankful that there is not a single car on this street when he cums. Visibly shaking and attempting to hold in his moans as he hears you directly next to him being fucked senseless. 

“Oh my god–” Jake half-moans, unable to keep his eyes from rolling back as he stutters his body through the pulses of cum shooting out of him. 

You praise him for it, wanting nothing more than to reach over and kiss him for looking so fucking erotic doing what he just did, but you opt to just compliment him.

           The image of Jake breathing his way through his orgasm, keeping the three of you safe in this car throughout all of it, and obviously wanting to fuck you has you nearing your own climax as Jay’s hips stutter against you.

           Your fingers against your clit grow increasingly aggressive as you finally allow yourself to fall back against Jay, taking over for his tired hips as you attempt to work him up to his orgasm.

           Honestly, you feel like the sexiest person alive right now, two men unable to contain themselves over you—it feels so good.

           And when Jay growls against you with an audible ‘never talk to him like that again’, you release, surprisingly, before Jay does. Cumming around his thick cock and gripping against the seats in front of you as your ears ring and your eyes begin to see colors.

           Something about your boyfriend being jealous is just entirely too hot, you might just have to absolutely talk to Jake like that again. Only so you can feel the way he grips you possessively and mumbles strings of both praise and arguments against you when he finally hits his own orgasm.

Words like “what the fuck was he doing up there for you to get so wet, huh?” and “don’t ever use that voice on him again–”

           When it’s all said and done, the car is a mess and Jake is immediately taking the next exit to the closest gas station. Partially so he can hide in the bathroom and cry before shamefully cleaning his juices off of the damn windshield (this is an exaggeration), but mostly so you could get cleaned up.

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

           Jake is standing in the bathroom staring at himself, opting to give up on cleaning the cum off of his shirt because this gas station appears to have the hottest water known to man and it only clumped up against the fabric.

           He’s sighing to himself, realizing how much of an absolute freak he must seem to you and Jay when, speak of the  fucking devil, the man himself walks into the bathroom and crosses his arms at Jake.

“Yknow—” Jay starts with a glare. “I could have sworn for a full ten minutes you were going to take my girlfriend away from me.”

           Jake’s eyes widen in embarrassment, because in all honestly, he would have fucking tried if you’d have let him.

“It’s not like that.” Jake stutters, backing away from the mirror and forgetting that Jay is actually right behind him, so he ends up bumping into him. He very quickly twists around and properly backs away from him this time.

“Oh my god, relax.” Jay steps forwards and claps him on the shoulder. “I was the one who suggested we even do this, just like—watch what you’re doing.”

           Jake nods, looking down.

“What do you mean?” Jake questions, still looking at the floor.

“What? You thought we could do all of this and expect you not to stay the next time you walk in on us?”

           Jake blushes, fixing his eyes on the soiled spot of his shirt.

“I’m embarrassed—I didn’t know what I was supposed to do so I just, did what she suggested?”

“That’s good.” Jay pats him on the shoulder again and forces him to look at him. “Jake, if you don’t touch her, you can do whatever you want with your cock—just know that I don’t share.”

           Something inside of Jake both shatters and swells up. Yeah, part of him wondered if all of this would lead to a beach vacation threesome, but it doesn’t appear that way. Nevertheless, Jay is still offering up a pretty sweet deal.

“Is she okay with that?” Jake asks.

“More than okay. I couldn’t tell if she came for me or for you, which pisses me off, not gonna lie.” Jay pulls away from Jake and pulls his length out casually, dabbing it with a napkin before attempting to wet the paper towel.

“Fuck! Why is the water so hot!?” He exclaims, jumping back and looking over at Jake.

“This is too weird—” Jake says to himself with heated cheeks, and then turns his back to Jay. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line, it won't happen again, honestly,”

           Jay just shrugs, allowing his paper towel to cool down like an actual smart person before dabbing away the dried cum. It’s not like he didn’t rent out a single-roomed beach house in order to prompt Jake to watch during this vacation. 

“She’s the one in trouble for that one. But we already talked. So we’re cool, just letting you know the boundaries, that’s all.”

           Jay had specifically asked you not to dirty talk Jake the way you did or to call him by any sort of nickname. But you had urged that it was honestly the hottest thing Jay has ever done for you, though it was supposed to be for Jake. 

He guessed you might be more into the whole being watched thing than he is, and that’s fair considering you never so much as tried anything kinky before meeting him. The two of you compromised. You’re only allowed to praise and talk to Jake that way if Jay is allowed to absolutely humiliate him at the same time. They’re not even sure if Jake is into that sort of thing, but you’d both stop the moment he felt uncomfortable.

“Okay, so… “ Jake says, waiting for Jay to finish his cleanup. “Is this gonna be a normal thing then?”

“Maybe, if you keep wanting to catch us, that is.”

“I swear, I never did that intentionally!” Jake defends himself but finally looks over at Jay who has his pants pulled up now.

“Oh, I know. It was also my idea to have you catch us all the time. You definitely liked watching though.” Jay winks at Jake knowingly, but before he could even attempt to respond there’s a toilet flushing and a burly man walking out of the furthest stall in the back.

           Both men stare at each other, too stunned to move based on the fact that this man had been sitting on the toilet listening to the entire conversation and hearing them clean cum off of themselves. Honestly. If there was a hole nearby, Jake would probably bury himself in it (no pun intended).

“Gentlemen.” The burly man says with a solemn tone, and all Jake can do is turn around and walk the fuck out of there as quickly as he can.

“Uh—” Jay says to the man, pointing behind him with his thumb and an awkward smile before turning on his heel and pacing out directly after Jake.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

– read part two here! 

[yuri-is-online]

And in With the New (Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, their ex is implied to be kind of a shit person, other dorms can be found here (x) Ortho is somewhat included in Idia's part but does not have one of his own.

Kalim- "Do you have any other things from your world?"

Kalim has expressed a desire for you to see as much of Twisted Wonderland as possible, and he stands by that, but it would really suck if the only physical connection you had to your home was something that brought up painful memories. Your past relationship isn't something that makes him jealous, just concerned since it clearly causes you distress. He can wait to get you more appropriate clothing until after he makes sure you're ok. If the sweatshirt really is the only thing you have from home, he'll be asking if there are any foods you remember or activities you liked to do with the people you actually cared about that the two of you can recreate in Twisted Wonderland. That way you won't have to feel the need to hold onto something painful and he gets to make you happy.

Jamil- "Then why didn't you get rid of it before you came here?"

On the one hand he does feel a bit second rate at the thought of you holding onto something form an ex, but his primary concern is the implication that your financial straights have always been this... dire. He definitely wants to know about your previous relationship so he can judge them for how much better he is, but once he notices that the memories are a bit on the traumatic side he stops pushing and feels just the slightest bit guilty. But really, if it's something that hurts you to hold onto then why do it? You aren't him, you don't need to do that, people love you and want to take care of you, him included. He's not going to just give you his hoodie, he would literally die of embarrassment, but he does get you a sweatshirt. If for no other reason than to keep him from staring holes into your back now that he knows where the other one came from.

Vil- "It doesn't suit you at all."

If his treatment of Epel is anything to go by, Vil is not above spending money on something he considers to be a pet project. Not that this... friendship is one of those, nor is he particularly jealous of some no name extra who was too blind to beg on their hands and knees to get back in your good graces. Not that he needs to do that you understand; as arrogant as Vil has a reputation for being, he is one of the people who has been more genuine when expressing concern and gratitude for you. His comment isn't meant to be a slight, clothing that makes you feel bad about yourself is failing to do its job as fashion, and as a world class super model that is unacceptable. In other words get in the car looser we're going shopping.

Rook- "Ah, I thought it was something like that."

Is it bad if he says he meant he hoped it was something like that? Not that he was rooting for your ex to be a bad person, he would never wish a subpar lover on you. But when he saw the tattered edges of your sweatshirt and how it clashed with the things you bought for yourself, he hoped that maybe someone in your world hadn't wanted your hands to be cold. If that's not the case, then if you are ok with letting it go as a lover of romance who is he to deny you your freedom? Granted tossing roses onto a fire while you burn an ugly sweatshirt is both very extra and very Rook but hey. He's having fun and you've got a new jacket.

Epel- "Afford shamford I could'a just made ya one!"

Offering their sweetheart their hoodie is something manly tall guys get to do and Epel has really really REALLY. Been looking forward to getting to that point in his relationship with you. He wants to feel like a real man, like your real man to be specific. The thought of some other piece of shit getting to do that first and treating you like a used dish rag pisses him off. Best believe he is huffing and puffing his way back to Grandma Felmier's boot camp with a mission to do you one and your ex two better by knitting you a pullover to go with your uniform. Everything that comes from Harveston is a top quality product prefect, better than whatever you left behind he guarantees it.

Idia- "So this is that kind of route huh..."

Of course you had a partner back in your world, if he can see your good points then a normie absolutely could. That doesn't make you less appealing, it just makes him feel all that more convinced he doesn't have a chance. He's halfway through whipping out his tablet to excuse himself when Ortho asks what you meant by "shitty memories" and they both get blindsided by just how much vitriol you have for a person whose clothing you technically kept on you. And suddenly he's back in business because there are few things that unite Idia with someone faster than a good old fashion bitch fest. Sure, his insults are weirdly possessive of you, but if he had any doubts about your feelings for this person he doesn't now! He's never heard you talk about anyone like this before and he finds it so attractive he almost forgets to short circuit when Ortho convinces you to try on his hoodie. Almost.

Malleus- "..."

Sometimes he feels like a broken record, constantly marveling at how little fear you have of him, but really child of man, you have no fear. Malleus has very little in the way of emotional intelligence, so he doesn't fully understand that what he is feeling is jealousy he just knows the thought of you with someone else's clothes hurts. Unfortunately for you both, in addition to not being emotionally intelligent he also isn't with the times and there is a non zero percent chance he will be bringing you a cloak and be genuinely confused when you don't immediately replace your old hide for his. (Lilia takes responsibility for that, he was making a joke honest.) Oh? The point was it's supposed to be something he wore so you can feel closer to him when he's gone? Well why didn't you say so child of man, he is more than willing to offer you a scale- what do you mean you can't wear that either?

Lilia- "Oh? Are you asking for one of mine?"

Shame has not been a word in Lilia's vocabulary since long before you showed up prefect. He always buys oversized clothing because of how cute the long sleeves look on him, but oh they would be so much cuter on you prefect, don't you want to see? Oh and while the two of you are at it, why don't you let him paint your nails and do your eye shadow. He's never had one of those slumber party things you humans do, you should make a night of this so you can both get a new experience out of this. He can have a slumber party and you can be the center of someone's world. Also what do you mean you're supposed to summon the devil at these things, he's already here.

Silver- "Would you like one of mine?"

Lilia raised a very good boy who thinks nothing of offering the shirt off his back to save someone in distress. Silver isn't a jealous person by nature, he's more concerned with making sure you are safe and taken care of than he is making sure you don't still have feelings for your ex. Above all else, Silver wants to be a safe space for you to come home to at the end of the day, like a proper knight in shining armor. Though he does have to admit, you look really nice in Diasomnia colors, they're really close to Briar Valley's so if you decide to come and visit he's assures you that you will fit right in. He's sure his father would be very happy to play host. Maybe too happy.

Sebek- "HOW UTTERLY DISGRACEFUL."

You think he's upset at you but he's not, that's made painfully clear with the rant he starts to go on about proper courtship procedure. Offering clothing to someone is supposed to be a sign of high affection, nay eternal devotion! And it suddenly becomes clear to you that Sebek has somehow managed to confuse the concept of a stolen hoodie and a knight's favor. He seems to have managed to convince himself, in the span of two seconds, that you are wearing this not because it is one of your only pieces of clothing, but because your ex convinced you that they're the only one who could love you which IS NOT TRUE. YOU UNDERSTAND HUMAN? DO YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAAND?

[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.

[luveline]

If you have any interest, how about a Spencer blurb where he's off on a case and gets or misses a late night call from the reader and is super worried, only to call them back and find them drunk and missing him. And of course the team rags on him after.

thank u for ur request! fem!reader

Spencer looks down at his phone and goes ghostly white. 

"What?" Emily asks. "They had a sale at Waterstones and you missed it?" 

Spencer clicks a bunch of buttons on his phone and brings it to his ear, crushing limp hair to his neck. "Seventeen missed calls," he says. 

Derek comes to the rescue, though the lightness in his voice is slightly forced, "Don't panic, wonderboy. Who wouldn't be eager to talk to you at… two AM?" 

"Is that the time difference?" Emily asks, leaning forward in concern. 

Even Hotch puts down his pen. The team listens to the phone ring. It loops, loops, loops, and everybody breathes a sigh of relief when you finally answer. If something happened to you Spencer wouldn't survive it. Nor after everything he's already been through. 

"Hey?" he says. There's a gap of silence. "Y/N, are you there?" 

"Spencer!" 

Spencer turns away from the table they've congregated at and looks through the open window at the parking lot, police cars roaming in and out of spaces. "What's wrong?" 

"I miss you so much." 

Spencer's nose wrinkles of its own accord. "Yeah? You sound odd. Are you– are you drunk?" 

Derek laughs. Like marionettes held tight with strings suddenly cut, the team stop their stressing and send each other knowing, amused looks. 

"Just a little bit!" you promise, clearly lying. Your voice catches on the syllables like they're coated in sticky honey, the slightest slurring tripping you up at the end. "We went for– to Chilli's. I had a blooming onion and seven margaritas!" 

"I can tell." 

"I'm really sorry, Spence, I know I'm not s'posed to call when you're away," you begin. 

Spencer glances back. Rossi and JJ have returned with coffee and a late dinner, neither of them bothering to act as though they aren't listening to the conversation. 

"No," Spencer says, turning back around and hunching inward, "that's the opposite of what we talked about, isn't it? You can call whenever you want to, but I can't, you know, always answer. I thought something bad happened. Maybe next time you could text me?" Rather than call almost twenty times and give him a heart attack.

Laughter echoes from behind. They team act like a teasing family sometimes, Spencer their teenage son who's never dated. 

He would fluster if you weren't talking to him in loud but loving tones, "I can barely walk, texting wasn't happening. I'm para-spelgic." 

"You're not," he says, firmly at first. "Are you? Who's with you? Is Rebecca there?" Rebecca being your best friend. Spencer trusts her to take care of you.

"She was, but she said that I– uh… She said I talked about you too much and made her nauseous. I feel kinda sick, too, but I just needed to talk to you, Spence. I miss you. I miss you, are you home soon?" 

"Is Rebecca really not there?" he asks. He thinks about the room full of special agents he's standing in and drops his voice to a murmur. "I miss you too." 

"She's making toast or something." 

"That's good. It'll soak up the margaritas." 

"I don't want toast, I want you! Please come home safe, angel. I really wish you were here to do that thing with my ear." 

Spencer has to give in. You're speaking so loudly it's impossible the team hadn't heard it, but he can't find the will to be embarrassed any longer. You're drunk and ridiculous and all you can think about is him.

"I wish I was home, too. Do I need to worry about you? Make sure you're drinking water, okay? Alcohol makes you dehydrated, you'll get a bad headache." 

"It makes me miss you," you whine. 

He smiles fondly. "There's no cure for that." A door opens over the line. "Is that Rebecca?" 

"Yeah." Murmurings. "She says sorry for letting me get so drunk, but she didn't let me do anything. It's like you always say, Spence, I can do whatever I set my mind to." 

"And you set your mind to getting drunk at Chili's." 

"Exactly!" 

You talk a little more before he hangs up. He knows you're getting taken care of. 

A gaggle of smiling faces greet him as he turns around. "Everything okay, 'angel'?" Derek asks. 

Spencer puts his phone in his pocket. You'll text him in the morning with a hankering for Tylenol and sore eyes, but you'll be fine. "Everything's great." 

[cindylcuwho]

“ your recent pics ★ “

— ★ matt sturniolo x afab! reader

★ ) summary ; matt couldn’t help but enjoy himself to your recent instagram pics .

★ ) warnings ; sub-ish! matt, jacking off, semi-pervert behavior if you squint, imagining you in certain scenarios, dirty talk, half- phone sex but not really . not proof-read so please msg if spelling error or i missed a warning !

★ ) madds note ; i think i went off topic and there’s boring parts all over so apologies in advance- i tried my best but writing smut is so awkward for me 😭😭

— matt couldn’t help it. the pics had been posted, and a million other people had seen them.

— matt immediately noticed how your body, your curves, fitted perfectly into a lavender silk dress. you were posing in the mirror with a wide smile, the same smile he has seen dozens of times as you’d swallow his cum

— matt couldn’t help with the thoughts, i mean could you blame him? you were the finest woman he has ever been with. he was obsessed with you and even more with your body

— other people had thought of you like this, this had been confirmed in a cut clip from the car videos where he and his brothers were reading fan fictions and nick found a juicy threesome involving you two.

— would it be a big deal if matt had touched himself to your recent photos? it’s not like he’s a stranger, he knows what’s underneath the silk, and knows it’s all for him. practically owned by him.

— matt could feel himself growing the more he stared. it didn’t make matters any better that you two were doing a steamy call earlier, the sound of your delicious moans rang through his head. god, if matt were with you he could’ve sucked those moans into his throat, taking pride in being the one to cause them as he thrusts into you.

— giving into his sinful thoughts, matts hand slowly slithered its way down into his sweats, tugging the slightest bit at his hard on.

— his movements were a copy of what you would do, only less enjoyable because he had to do it himself.

— matt finally slid his hand into his briefs, letting out a quiet hiss, grabbing his cock with a firm squeeze.

— matt let out moan after moan, teasing himself with the way you had before. sliding his hand up and down his cock before squeezing the tip.

— his hand was covered in pre-cum. it was a delightful sight, something you would’ve begged to take a picture of.

— fuck, you begging. images of you on your knees, begging for matt to throat fuck you. you on the bed, saying nonsensical blabbers that contained “please” and “put it in me”

— matt fastened his pace, bucking his hips up as if you were on top of him, taking all his inches like the good girl you were.

— just as he was on the verge of orgasming, his phone rang. a call from you, how ironic.

— “ baby, whatcha doing right now“ your raspy post-nap voice didn’t help matts situation.

— matt could barely respond. he didn’t even bother to stop his jacking session, his hand only going at a slower pace.

— “ i- uh-“ he let out a whine as his fingers rubbed against his now overly-sensitive tip. you instantly picked up on the clue, a small smile crept on your face as you pictured matt all pretty and laid out on his bed.

— “ hm, maybe i should come over then? ” you teased. you had already slid slippers on and were looking for your keys as you spoke.

— matt only whined more at that, his way of showing he would’ve loved if you were there.

— “put your phone next to it, i wanna hear you get off “

— matt did as told, moving his phone down next to member before hurriedly rubbing on the member up and down.

— “ what were you thinking about baby? “ you knew the possible answer, but still wanted to hear the words leave his mouth

— when nothing other than whimpers left his mouth you repeated your sentence, only harsher.

— “ your- fuck- your recent pics ” he quickly raised his phone, swiping back to instagram to get another peek at the pic before resting it next to his shaft again.

— “ awe, you like them that much you had to take care of yourself without me? ”

— matt could hear your smirk, but didn’t care.

— “ i’m gonna cum- can i come, please ple—“ matt began blabbing out pleas, not wanting to let even a drop spill out without your permission.

— it was like fireworks has bursted when you gave the okay. matts chest heaved up and down, his hips slowly bucking into nothing as streams of warm white liquid landed on his stomach.

— “ please say you’re almost here- i’m already hard again thinking of what you’re gonna do ”

[yxami]

Yandere coworker!!

Desc: Yandere coworker x gn reader, general Yandere behaviors, possessive, a pinch of toxicity, jealousy, and other things. He’s pretty tame compared to others.

Coworkers, meant to keep relationships within company time and inside the workplace, but a few drinks with the boss and others wouldn’t hurt right? You tell yourself that as you get ready for it, putting on nice shoes you wouldn’t usually wear and a casual outfit for dinner.

It’ll go by fast and you won’t drink that much, at least not enough to have a hangover.

But your plan fails when one of your coworkers insists you drink more than your tolerance can handle, one shot after another before you can notice that you’re tipsy and stumbling over your own words, and seemingly nothing on the ground but you don’t pay enough mind to it.

“Here, cheers to another shot” Your pushy coworker hands you another, or at least attempts to before a veiny hand pushes the tiny glass away.

“That’s enough. Can’t you see how drunk they are?” An intimidating but familiar voice speaks, your coworker that you’ve hardly spoken to defends you. He was always a quiet one, keeping to himself, he was scary but always did what he was told by the boss. You’ve tried being nice but he seems like a shut in so you stayed inside your cubicle that happened to be right by his.

“Awh cmon, don’t be a wimp, another won’t hurt you right?” He turns his focus back on you, a wobbly smile on his face, clearly showing the intoxicated state he caused for himself.

“No, and you should stop drinking, we all have work tomorrow.” He stands up, towering over him as he denies the drink for you once again. “Let’s go, I’ll take you home” He sighs, helping you to lean on his side as much as you can with the height difference.

He might as well carry you..

“Mm’ fine, I’lll…. just order a cab home” You slur your words, trying not to cause trouble on a coworker you’ve hardly spoken to other than saying “yes, no, over there” every now and then to each other.

“I insist. It’s too late anyways and I’ve hardly drank, I just hope these idiots can manage to find their way home” He sighs, looking at the passed out coworkers and your boss somehow still preforming songs on the karaoke machine.

You stay quiet after that, observing his serious expression and cologne, it smelt nice, like a cold fall breeze before a walk. You recall the way your boss insisted for everyone to dress casual, but here he was, in a suit without worry about you vomiting all over it or in his car, buckling you in, mimicking a child with its parent.

The car drive seems rather short, at least for you, but time seemed to go a snails pace for him while he drove.

Why did he offer help? It’s not like he cares about you, but he couldn’t sit and let you get fed shot after shot, clearly that guy didn’t know his own limit. And plus, he was leaving so it was convenient to take you home, even though you weren’t on the way..

He shouldn’t have helped, what if you assumed the two of you were buddy buddy now? He hates that shit, someone clinging onto him because they believe they’ve made a breakthrough in his just because he keeps things professional.

They only care about what makes them feel special and hell, they weren’t in the slightest.

But you don’t act that way, if anything you were the complete opposite.

“Thank you for driving me home, I was definitely way too drunk to do so” You laugh slightly, thankful that he troubled himself to bring you home. It was a little embarrassing to recall how he put you to bed and made you drink water before he left.

“No problem, next time learn how to say no, it’s not hard” He casually delivers a brutally honest sentence, you can’t decipher whether if it was a kind gesture or not but continue on.

“You’re right, I haven’t grown a spine yet” You joke, smiling this time with your words. “I brought you some food I picked up before work, I hope you like baked goods, I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got a small container of everything” You grab the cardboard box you had on your desk and hand it to him, hoping he at least wanted one.

“Oh.. thanks.” He quietly says, looking down at the small box in his hands. You nod and try to focus on your work after that, attempting to not riddle yourself with worry about how you may have given a shitty ‘thank you!’ gift.

After that, you would attempt to befriend him, as much as he would let you. You never pushed further than what he gave, you wanted to be kind so you weren’t exactly best friends but you were able to greet him unlike the others who couldn’t.

“Do you want to eat lunch together?”

“Huh?”

“Eat lunch. Together?” He repeats, turning his chair to face you, eyes now staring up at yours rather than his freshly printed paper that was warm to the touch.

“Oh yeah.. yeah! that would be nice” You say, a little surprised that he offered, let alone was willing to eat lunch with someone.

He wasn’t sure why either, but his mind has been nagging at him to interact with you. He’s been craving to see you more and he’s been doing relatively well with hiding it but he can’t comprehend why he’s feeling this way.

Feeling so helpless against these instincts that beg to see you, that want to talk to you, maybe even touch you if he ponders long enough. It’s strange, he’s never felt this way, so he’s curious enough to indulge in it. As long as it keeps his brain at peace.

After a few lunches, his needs grow more, and more, and more until all your time is spent on him. You don’t pick up on it until a coworker points out how close the two of you are now, it almost makes you forget how it used to be, weren’t you always like this with him?

“Can you come over today? I wanted to cook dinner with you again” He speaks with a muffled volume, mouth filled with too much food to speak clearly.

You nod, agreeing like always, this has become a usual thing, and you’re used to it. Even growing accustomed to sleeping over if you’re too tired to go home. Sometimes it almost seems like he purposefully makes bigger portions so you grow sleepy after your full and content.

“Good, I bought the ingredients for your favorite. Maybe we can pick up some ice cream on the way home as dessert” He smiles slightly, continuing to chew his food in silence after that.

Time passes rather quickly, at least for you, he’s a little confused on why you’re taking forever so he stops waiting at the elevator like he told you he would do, walking up to your cubicle he sees you chatting, talking with the same coworker who pushes you around.

“Awh cmon please? I’m trying to meet up with a girl tonight and if I do these papers then I’ll be late, and I can’t be late to a first date” He pleads, putting his hands together with the papers crinkling slightly between them.

“I don’t know.. I already have something planned and I can’t just cancel on them” You say hesitantly, debating whether if you should help him or not, again.

“I’m sure you can do these papers on your own, I’ve seen you do a stack in 20.” He approaches, glaring at the shared coworker, he’s always despised this guy.

“Ah- seriously, it’s an important date” He pleads again, ignoring him as if he hadn’t just spoke.

“And it’s a no, can you hear?”

“I wasn’t asking you”

“I’m not letting you throw work on another coworker just for you to have another failed date”

He scoffs, annoyed as he walks back to his cubicle, not willing to pick a fight over some papers, even though he would if it was anyone but him.

“Let’s go then? Are you done with everything?” Your friend says, mood switching with your other coworker gone. It seems like he could be intimidating one minute and be ecstatic about something the next.

You didn’t mind how he acted now, even if he was a little harsh to others and wouldn’t want you speaking to them as much as you do. It helps you out in most situations, like now and at the party.

“Yeah, let’s go..!”

You just can’t help but wonder if it’s something you should worry about.

[kookslastbutton]

take care of you ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: To keep your fiance from burning out you suggest a weekend getaway to Gapyeong, a charming town about an hour outside Seoul. You've specifically asked him to leave his work equipment at home but like a deep rooted habit, he still brings it with him. You're left with no choice but to find a way to get his attention back.

pairing: workaholic!yoongi x reader

genre/AU: fluff, tiny angst, smut, established relationship, vacation au, engaged couple

word count: 7,581

warnings: yoongi has a hard time relaxing so oc gets a little frustrated with him, oc and yoongi riding in a hot air balloon, yoongi gets a little shy with pictures, oc gets a tiny bit insecure, both very in love with each other, yoongi keeps calling oc Mrs even though they have not tied the knot yet, swearing, tiny misunderstanding (ik misunderstanding 😒 but its cute i swear!), sexual content

sexual warnings: switch!yoongi, switch!reader, lingerie, handj*b, oral (m. receiving), teasing, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, explicit sex (oc on birth control), f*cking from behind, missionary, f*cking on the floor, bigd*ck!yoongi, yoongi has a chain on, butt slapping (once), f*ngering, licking, biting, a tiny bit of breast play, slight begging kink, body worshipping, he calls oc sl*t once but it's tame, aftercare in bathtub

now playing: You Want to Make a Memory, With all My Heart, Perfect

a/n: I will not lie this pwp turning to a 7k fluff peice with smut. I am truly in love with this one and I miss yoongi 🥺 hope you enjoy 💞

There are two things your fiance’ considers most precious in this world–you and his industrial-grade music equipment. Trying to pry either from his soft, veiny hands is enough to earn a death wish. But when you come between his music producing or when his music comes between your relationship…oh it's a fight.

Over the last four years, you’ve grown quite an admiration for Yoongi’s relentless dedication to work and profound love for music production. It’s his lifeblood and you would never in a million years even think about taking something so beautiful away from him. And truthfully, one of your favorite moments to witness is when he finds the perfect beat for a new song after twelve long hours of mixing. Seeing his gummy smile break free on his handsome face never fails to send you over the edge of sanity.

Ever since the first time Yoongi let you into his studio, you’ve been sneaking in any chance you can get. Watching him work is a whole experience that leaves you feeling a combination of awe, respect, and utter joy. He likes you there too, his face always lighting up when he sees your faint shadow moving behind the glass door. There’s been a handful of times you’ve used his studio for more than music producing too…but that’s an entirely different matter altogether.

So no, it doesn’t bother you in the slightest that Yoongi is devoted to his music. And if it did, well, you wouldn’t have agreed to marry him last month when he asked you, would you? (You’re still on cloud nine about that one…)

What does bother you, however, is when your fiance' doesn’t allow himself to take a break despite how burned out he clearly is. Not that you’re one to point fingers, being one to stretch yourself thin for the sake of professional responsibilities too. But even so, you’d argue that you’re in better shape than your fiance’ who literally works 24/7.

Day or night Yoongi is always in his studio or bringing his equipment everywhere he goes. You get the logic, you really do. But you care about his health most of all; something he tends to put last.

That’s why this week you made one tiny request–that you take a weekend trip together and that he leave his equipment at home.

But like an itch that won’t go away, Yoongi is adamant about stuffing his equipment in the trunk of his car.

“I thought we agreed you’d leave all of this at home this time,” you sigh and gesture at his equipment stacked in the far corner of the trunk.

Yoongi takes your suitcase from your hand and tosses it next to his own. “It’s a safety measure,” he justifies. “You never know when you’ll need it or when the right idea will strike you.”

“Min Yoongi.” Your voice is sharp and earns your fiance’s full attention, which is no simple task when it’s typically the other way around. “You promised me.”

He steps forward and puts his hands around your stiff shoulders–an attempt to soothe you. “I won’t use it unless absolutely necessary okay? You know I like having my music with me at all times so if anything it’s just for my own comfort. It’ll stay in some odd corner of our rental and not be touched.”

“What counts as absolutely necessary?” You narrow your eyes at him, unwilling to let him off that easily. So what if he looks ridiculously handsome today in his open white button-down shirt with a white t-shirt and ripped jeans underneath?

“Baby,” he coos in a raspy voice.

Fuck–you swear to yourself. Stay strong, __.

“How’s this…I won’t use it unless something on our trip really inspires me. Or unless I’m bursting with an idea and I’ll run it by you first. I’ll wait until night too, when we aren’t doing anything.” He grabs your hand, the one with the ring on it, and kisses it softly–how evil of him. “Please?”

You glance at his hand in yours and then back into his deep chestnut eyes. “Kiss me again and I’ll allow it,” you say.

Yoongi smirks at your reply and leans forward to press his pillowy lips against yours. It only lasts a few seconds before he pulls back.

“Okay?” he waits for your go-ahead which, shamelessly, you give him.

“Fine, but just remember the only thing I want you touching this weekend is me and not your keyboard. So if I see you sneaking it around behind my back I will not hesitate to strip naked in front of you until you’re forced to give it up.” You gently pull your hand from his hold and walk to the passenger side door.

“Fucking hell.” You hear your fiance’ curse as you both hop in the car. “You're gonna make me drive an hour and half with that thought replaying in my head?"

You don't meet the question with a response, but rather smile sweetly at him and turn volume of the car stereo up a few notches.

What else is there to say? You simply want him to enjoy himself for three days without having to get stressed over work.

The place you and Yoongi are headed to is called Gapyeong, a small town about an hour away from Seoul. Its lush forests and clear streams give a sense of perfect serenity which is exactly why you chose the area. There are hot air balloon rides that'll provide you with an hours' worth of scenic views too, which is definitely at the top of the priority list.

The closer you get to Gapyeong the more you see the view out your windows changing. The bustling city with 60-story skyscrapers is now turning into majestic mountains, rivers, and vibrant greenery. You love Seoul but you miss nature sometimes.

"Yoongi look! " You point out the window when you spot a beautiful overlook up ahead It looks like the kind of spot many stop at due to a handful of other cars that are parked off the side of the road. "We should take a break and stretch our legs."

"Is that really necessary?" Yoongi asks with one hand gripping the steering wheel. "We're about twenty minutes from our rental and it's not even one o'clock yet. We have all day to look at sceneries and take pictures."

You toss him a slightly displeased look immediately. Little pit stops like these aren't your fiance's cup of tea as he'd much rather get from point A to point B. But if there's anything you want him to get out of this weekend, it's a break from routine.

"Come on Yoon, aren't you feeling a bit stiff from driving? We don't have to stay long," you do your best to plead with him. Yoongi glances at you and then at the empty space off the side of the road a few feet ahead. He sighs and signals over.

"Ten minutes," he says, putting the car in park. You grin excitedly and unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Let's go!" You lean over and surprise him with a quick kiss on his cheek. You want to point out the blush that creeps on his face but ultimately decide to keep that to yourself. Maybe you'll bring it up later. Yoongi tends to get more nervous when you point stuff like that out and besides, you like keeping little secrets from him sometimes.

"Alright, I'll admit it," he jumps out of the car and takes in the fresh air. "It's pretty nice out here. Reminds me of when I came here as a child with my parents." A light breeze blows a few strands of his pitch-black hair over his eyes but he cards it back with a few fingers.

"You came here as a child?" You move beside him to link onto one of his arms. Something about being this close to him makes you feel warm and safe.

Yoongi nods and walks both of you to the edge of the overlook to get the best view of the mountains surrounding the area. "When I was about ten years old my family and I took a trip up here. I'm not sure if this was the exact spot but it was an overlook similar to this. It was autumn too, the colors changing to shades of reds and oranges."

"Oh wow." You're embarrassed you didn't realize he'd been here before. Being this close to Seoul surely he would have but now it makes question coming here. Had he preferred to go elsewhere? And if he did, why wouldn't he have told you?

"I'm glad we came here together," he interrupts your thoughts as if knowing exactly what you're thinking. He then flashes you a tight-lipped smile. "I always thought I'd like to come here with someone special."

Your previous nerves are eased after this and you smile back, eyes piercing in his. He's so handsome with the way the natural light shines on his face. The thought comes from nowhere but you couldn't stop the next words even if you wanted to. "Can I take your picture?" you dig in your bag and grab your phone laying somewhere at the bottom.

Yoongi instantly breaks eye contact. "Uh–why? Don't you already have enough of me in there?" He chuckles, no short of shyness.

See. It's like you said before–he gets flustered at stuff like this.

You shrug casually at him and open the camera app on your cell. "I have hundreds of pictures of my boyfriend. But I still haven't gotten one of my fiance' yet." It's true, the last picture you took of him was before he proposed. You would have taken more since then but Yoongi is far less interested in them compared to you so you try not to overload him.

Yoongi shakes his head at your clever comeback. "We'll take it together." He reaches over to take your phone out of your hand but you move it further from his grasp.

"Just one of you first," you say. "Please?"

"Aigoo," he hits the railing of the overlook playfully. "I'll allow it this once, Mrs. Min. Where do you want me?"

"Yoon...." you flush hearing him refer to you as Mrs. You and Yoongi recently got engaged a month ago and the wedding won't be held until next spring. "Isn't it a little soon to be calling me that?" you ask with hot cheeks.

"Oh, I got ahead of myself." He scratches the back of his head and shifts his eyes towards the mountains again. "Let's take the picture okay?"

"Okay." You loop your arm out from his. "But Yoon?"

"Hm?"

"It's okay that you called me that. I like it even if it's a bit soon." You lift your phone camera and take a photo of him before he has time to respond. It's a cute shot with the breathtaking forest and mountains behind him. Your finace' has his signature gummy smile on as well, the one that makes you forget where you are entirely.

This one will go in the album you have dedicated to your memories with him for sure.

After stopping at the overlook you and Yoongi finally arrive at your quaint vacation rental. The size is just right for a three-day stay and is centrally located with nature enclosing the premises. To sum, it's private yet welcoming.

"This is the last of it," he says, setting his music equipment on the dining table. "What do you want to do now?"

"I'm kinda hungry for lunch. Maybe we can go to a local spot and then see if there are any balloon rides open?"

"You wanna do the balloon ride on the first day?"

"Why not?" We're only here for a limited time and tomorrow we're going to Nami Island so I thought we could do something leisurely tonight. And then I was thinking we could watch a movie."

The corner of Yoongi's mouth quirks into a half-smile. "You planned this out pretty thoroughly I see. Not a second to spare."

"Mhm," you say, shifting your stance when you see your finace' coming face to face with you.

"This wouldn't be you making sure I stay away from my computer would it?" He tests with interrogative eyes, knowing that it's exactly what you're doing. When you take longer to reply than he'd like, Yoongi continues speaking. "I don't mind by the way. I just think it's sweet so thank you."

You open your mouth to respond but a loud grumbling noise from your stomach stops you. Yoongi laughs and takes your hand to drag you out the door of your rental. "I think it's time I take care of you this time," he says. "I saw a pretty good place to eat a few blocks away."

Once you get in the car Yoongi reaches in his pocket for his phone but it's not there. "I think I left my phone in the kitchen when I was bringing stuff in. I'll be right back." He hops out of the car once you give a brief okay.

Namjoon: Hey man, hope you have a good time with __ this weekend! You both deserve some relaxing time. But I gotta ask, how's the new song going? Any progress?

Yoongi quickly taps on his phone's keyboard with a small sigh.

Yoongi: Not really. I've been working on it for weeks and I can't seem to get anything right. It's driving me crazy.

Namjoon: I get it and I don't have to tell you how challenging producing new music is. You still have time though so don't push yourself too much. Take in the weekend and maybe the inspiration will strike you.

Yoongi: I'll try. __ will likely kick my balls if I work this weekend. Namjoon: Ah just like __. Well, you left your equipment at home, right? So no worries! Yoongi: I mean I have it here but I promised not to use it unless necessary.

As soon as he sends the text everyone starts rapidly texting in the chat. Yoongi rolls his eyes at the sight of all the lurkers suddenly becoming vocal.

Seokjin: Yah! Tell me this is a joke! Jimin: Come on Yoongi you can't be serious! Hoseok: Ah Yoongi-hyung, always working! Be careful you still have a finace' after this! Taehyung: Hyung, I think you should focus on your future Mrs. She obviously wants to spend time with you this weekend, not fighting for your attention with your computer! Jungkook: Think about what you're doing hyung. Pick one: sex or no sex.

Namjoon: This isn't about sex Jungkook

Jungkook: It will be if Yoongi-hyung pisses off __! Yoongi: Everyone shut up, I didn't bring my music equipment to work okay? It's just a safety measure. Jimin: Wrong equipment to bring on a weekend away with your lovey hyung...why didn't you ask me about this first? Jungkook: At least someone is on the same page as me! Namjoon: For the last time this isn't about sex! Yoongi: I really don't have time for this right now. __'s in the car and we're about to go eat. See ya. Seokjin: What the hell are you doing? Making __ wait while you text your friends!

Yoongi turns his phone off and slips his cell back in his pocket. He'll deal with them later.

"Sorry, it took a bit." He gets back into the car and opens his maps app. "Let me just get the directions up."

Half an hour into lunch Yoongi's talking significantly less compared to earlier at the overlook. He doesn't seem tired but more disengaged.

"Everything alright?" You ask.

Yoongi looks up from his plate with a nonchalant expression. "Yeah why?"

"No reason," you lie. "Just wondering if you're feeling okay is all. Nothing happened while you went back inside the rental to get your phone right?" You let out a nervous giggle and it makes Yoongi soften his gaze. He drops his chopsticks and closes his hand over yours.

"I think I need to remember how to vacation," he says. This is true but the much bigger reason for his sudden disengagement is that getting the text from Namjoon reminds him of the new song he'd like to have finished sooner than later. He shouldn't be paying attention to it while on a vacation with you but it's a difficult habit to shake.

"Let work go for a bit Yoon," you reply. "I understand how much your music means to you but I want you to be able to unhinge a little too. The last thing I want to see is you overworking yourself."

"I guess you're right."

"Of course I am. Now try this." You clear the thick air by holding out your chopsticks with some of the best, richest kimchi stew you ever had. And that's saying a lot since you've basically been obsessed with it for years. The spice from the cabbage mixed with the hearty pork broth is to die for. "Isn't it good?"

Yoongi eats what you've offered him. "Wow, that's delicious. Here try mine." He does the same as you but with some barbecued pork. He makes sure to blow on it first to contrast the heat of the grill it was on.

"This is an excellent place to eat." You swallow the tasty pork and take a sip of your water. "We should leave a review, especially since it's a local restaurant."

"Sure, I can write one online before we leave."

And he kept to his word. Yoongi left a decent praise for the restaurant about fifteen minutes before finishing up your meal. You both signed the cute guest book at the front too.

'Great atmosphere, great food, great dinner date. We'll come back again after our honeymoon – Min Yoongi & __'

.

After lunch, Yoongi fulfills your wish of going on a hot air balloon. The pilot assists you into the basket and stays with you the entire time of the flight. Regardless of his presence, however, you and Yoongi are able to maintain a healthy level of intimacy. And besides, it's not like you both have a ridiculous need to make out all the time.

Your relationship was more subtle so to speak; everything was in the details. Gentle touches, small favors, remembering the more significant and least significant facts about each other. That's how you and Yoongi love and connect with each other.

Still, you like a good make-out session as much as the next guy but making out with the pilot only steps away? You and Yoongi prefer privacy–light kissing was okay though.

"The view is better than I expected," you say with your arms wrapped around your fiance's waist. "Thank you for doing this for us. It's unbelievable."

Yoongi holds onto you as well, his arms around your shoulders and back. "I wouldn't dream of coming here and not doing this with you. The weather is perfect for this sort of activity too."

While the balloon drifts over all of Gapyeong, its charming nature on full display, you snuggle yourself into Yoongi's chest. The moment is completely surreal and you can't imagine a life without him by your side. And what's more, is that he feels the exact same way.

"Yoon?" You lift your head to meet his face.

"Hm?" His eyes are set straight ahead, giving you a side profile.

"Can you kiss me while we're up here?" You whisper the words but he doesn't quite hear you evident by his lack of response. "I want you to kiss me," you repeat.

Yoongi looks at the pilot who shifts his eyes elsewhere as if on queue. A pair of warm lips capture your cooler ones milliseconds after and surprisingly it's firm.

"I love you."

"I love you too __."

You snuggle back into his chest as he points out several areas he finds interesting, comparing them to different songs it reminds him of.

You return to your rental around 7 p.m., right after dinner. Both you and Yoongi decided it is better to save the rest of the exciting activities tomorrow as originally planned and watch a movie. Dinner got you both stuffed to the high heavens too so you needed to turn in for the night.

"Hey baby?" he asks in the same raspy voice from earlier today while he was packing the car. Hearing it always makes your stomach do somersaults. Yoongi puts his hands on your waist and continues. "How would you feel if we watched the movie in an hour?"

You loop your arms around the back of his neck to draw him closer. "Okay. What do you have in mind?" You're sure you know where he's going with this until he starts hesitating his next words. And when you notice he's looking past you towards the dining table where all his equipment is stacked, you break from his hold.

"Min Yoongi, are you seriously trying to seduce me into letting you work tonight?" You throw your hands on your hips as most anyone in your situation would do.

"I'm not," he starts but pauses. "Okay I kinda was but I had such a wonderful time with you today that it gave me inspiration for one of my new songs. I'd kinda like to get a bit of it on my computer before I...forget it."

"Oh Yoon," you cross your arms.

"We can watch a movie right after. I don't even need an hour. How about half an hour. Twenty minutes?" He's must be onto something if he's trying to bargain with you this much. Well as much as it pains you, you're no she-devil. You'll let the man work but you're cutting him off at forty minutes only because if he gets to an hour, he won't stop for the rest of the night....or trip for that matter.

"Go ahead," you say.

Yoongi grins when you agree to your request, his eyes sparkle too. You're still borderline ticked about this but you said you'd let him work a little if necessary. And by the looks of it, he about to explode if you don't let him get his ideas out.

"Will you tell me what you're working on?"

"Top secret information. I can't tell you and risk exploiting the company." You slap his chest, feigning irritation. Yoongi chuckles and paces over to the dining table to unzip his laptop case. "I'll show you when it's done."

You take a seat at the table with him but find it extremely out of character when he gives you a displeased look.

"Uhm, wouldn't you be more comfortable on the couch baby?" he suggests, eyes darting towards the living room.

"Why? You don't want me being here or something?" you joke yet it rings true by the way he struggles to form an answer. Obviously he wants privacy this time. "Fine," you say and get up from your seat. "No more than forty minutes you hear? I'll lay down in the bedroom and nap or something."

"Mhm yeah," he replies and sits in one of the chairs with his earphones already over his ears. He looks cute actually...adorable even. You snap a quick photo and slip into the bedroom.

Well, you caved and let your fiance' work on his music for another forty minutes after the original forty minutes was over. So here you are, star-fished in your king-sized bed and jammies, waiting for Yoongi to be ready for your movie.

But wait a damn minute.

Just who are you __? You and Yoongi had a deal that he'd only be allowed a certain amount of time to work on his music and he pushed that limit with that stupidly handsome good looks of his. Plus he didn't even let you stay with him. Just tossed you to the curb. Isn't that a little sneaky of him?

Okay so maybe you're stretching it a little but you won't lie–you want our finace's attention back! And what better way to do it than to use your feminine prowess. It's sooner than you'd planned to use it but you have a sexy white lingerie set that you buried at the bottom of your suitcase. It's a lacy corset with matching panties you got only a week ago so he's not seen it yet.

You leap out of bed and start tossing your clothes off one by one–a giddy feeling settling in your gut. You swear to god if he even thinks about telling you to go back into the bedroom you will get on your knees and suck his dick.

Alright, maybe you're getting a little too wound up so to calm yourself down you go in the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face. After that, you dig in your bag until your fingers graze across something soft and lacy.

"Oh Yoongi. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi," you hum to yourself in a sing-songy voice. "Two can play this game."

He doesn't notice your presence when you creak the bedroom door open. Your rental is all one level with the bedroom facing the dining room where your fiance' concentrates on his laptop.

You quickly body-check yourself one last time before strutting toward him. When you get close enough, you set your hands on the table and stare at him until he blinks his eyes up at you.

"__!" He tosses his earphones off his head when he sees a sliver of your cleavage above his laptop screen. "What are you doing dressed like that right now?" You'd tell him to look you in the eye when he talks to you but you enjoy his shocked expression too much–it's a mix between being caught off guard and getting extremely turned on.

"I wanted to get your opinion on this little number I bought a few weeks ago. I think it's pretty with the lace detailing throughout. And it fits really well too which is a rarity for me. Don't you think?"

Yoongi swallows hard and watches you stand straight to graze your hands down your sides. They move slowly, tracing every line and curve on your body. And he must admit this set you have on is accentuating you in the finest way possible.

"Yes, I think it's very nice __." He shifts his attention back to his laptop screen. "Is that...all?" he dares to ask.

"No," you shake your head, struggling to keep yourself controlled and seductive. Like how they show it in movies–seemingly effortless than in real life. You round the dining table until you're directly behind him. You place your hands on his muscular shoulders and start massaging them. "I'd like to know what you like about it Mr. Min."

Yoongi groans at the use of his surname and closes his eyes, basking in the feeling of your hands digging into his shoulder blades. "It's sexy yet elegant at the same time. Makes your body look like heaven with the way the fabric clings to your form. And the corset pushes up your breasts into two perfect globes whereas the panties accentuate your inner thighs, making it look like a sin that most can only dream of touching."

"Look at you becoming an expert in ladies' undergarments. Picking a few things up from Jimin huh? What else do you like about it?" You bring your lips to his smooth neck and graze your teeth ever so gently over the delicate skin. It's only a tease, barely touching, but you feel your finace' flinch at the action.

"Fuck–if you want me to go absolutely feral keep doing what you're doing." If it's meant to be a threat you're unscathed.

"Wanna see it Yoongi." You lick the side of his neck. "That's all I've been wanting this whole time. For you to let loose a little with me. But here you are with your computer for nearly two hours when you can be fucking me instead."

"Shit stop, " Yoongi orders stills one of your hands with his. "What are you doing __?" His voice is shaky yet trying so hard to remain firm.

"Isn't it obvious?" You move your body to one side of him to easily look him in the eye. Then you put a hand on the top of his laptop before closing it shut. Yoongi jolts forward when you do this but you grab his face with both hands and bring him into a kiss before he can sound a word.

You kiss him roughly, moving your lips fast against his. And what do you know, he opens his mouth just enough to let you slip your tongue inside. A hot sensation settles in your core upon realizing that you're taking the lead tonight. When it comes to you and Yoongi's sex life, it was never one of you who takes control. That was a shared venture ever since your first time together.

Yoongi lets out a couple of muffled groans when you move one of your hands to palm his bulge under the table. It's not fully hard yet but it will be soon. You then fiddle with the zipper of his jeans to which he stops with a free hand immediately.

You smirk when he pushes his chair back, to stand up. Yoongi then picks you up in sturdy arms, bridal style, and walks you both towards the bedroom.

"Not thinking about work now hm?" You tease and nibble at his neck. You're on the bed within moments, not so elegantly at that. "Yoon—" you start as he starts ripping his shirts off his body. He throws them on the ground before working on his jeans.

Your eyes wander across his smooth, tanned chest as you wait for him to say something. Starting at his collarbone where a thin silver chain hangs loosely around his neck and all the way down to his navel. You didn't know he was wearing a chain under his shirt until now.

"Yoongi?" You shift uncomfortably on the bed as you watch him push his jeans and underwear down his legs, breath hitching at the sight of his hardened length. But not a word comes out and it's making you crazy. When Yoongi chooses to give you the silent treatment in settings like these it typically means he's incredibly turned on.

He looks at you then at the ground between his feet.

You know what he's asking for.

And like his peachy sweetheart you stay put, biting down a smirk that he'd like to wipe off your face.

Yoongi cocks his head to the side and wets his lips at you. A long, impatient sigh leaves his lips. And when he grips his length in his hand you bolt off the bed and fall on your knees in front of him.

"Don't want to watch me get myself off do you?" He sneers and you reach to bat his hand off his length. You then spit in your palms and wrap your hands around the base of his cock. "Shit," he curses when you begin pumping him slowly.

"Let me do it," you say. You absolutely hate when he tries getting himself off in front of you. After all, that's your job, is it not? Eager to please you continue gliding your hands up and down his hardened member. You lean forward to lick the mushroom tip, just enough to have him shuddering.

"Fuck, put your mouth on me, baby. Show me how good you can suck." It's a plea for relief and you are happy to oblige. So with your hands still gripped firmly around his length you wrap your lips over the head of his cock. You let your tongue roll over the slit then underneath where all men are guaranteed to go weak on their knees. You then hollow out your cheeks and take him further until you can't anymore.

"Oh fuck me," he swears, immersed in the feeling of your mouth and hands working on him simultaneously. Your fiance' is pretty big so your hands needs to make up for where your mouth can't.

"Mph!" You moan a little when he thrusts into your mouth unexpectedly. He makes sure to get easy first, light gentle thrusts that make your panties stickier with arousal.

Yoongi watches as your cheeks get more hallowed out, eyes watering as his cock disappears between your lips. His own eyes are struggling to stay open as he wants to toss his head back in pleasure yet the temptation to see you taking him so well wins out in the end. "This feels so good baby. No one sucks cock like you can, goddamn it."

The thrusting gets rougher and faster with each push and pull. Your fiance' is evidently getting close to his release and you blink back any tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. You love seeing him like this—letting go of all inhibitions.

"Yoon!" You yelp when he suddenly pulls himself out of your mouth and hands. You're sure he was seconds from releasing on your tongue. Yoongi chuckles at your half-offended face. He gets down on his knees himself and pulls you into a passionate kiss with a hand behind your back.

This time it's his tongue in your mouth, licking as many places as he can. His hands trace up and down the lacy fabric of your lingerie at the same time.

"I love this on you," he says when he finally breaks from your lips. "I'd like to see you in it more often if I can." He then tugs at the laced-up ribbon on the back that's holding it together until it's loose enough to take off your body.

"God you're so gorgeous," he praises and tosses the corset on the ground beside you both. Yoongi cups both your bare breasts and circles his thumbs over the hardening peaks.

"Yoon," you moan as his lips find their way to the side of your neck. He leaves open-mouth kisses from the sweet spot behind your ear and down to your shoulder. "That feels so–shit I don't even have words."

" Good," he hums and lowers his head to your breasts and mouths at one gently. He's careful to lick the nub and suck it firmly. While he does this his fingers play with the hem of your lace panties. When you feel them slip underneath the thin string band you raise your knees for him to slowly push the material over your ass and down your legs.

Yoongi lets your breasts go to allow you to sit back down and kick the panties off your legs. You go back in for another kiss once they're off but he stops you by gripping your jaw with a firm hand.

"Uh not so fast," he says. "I want you on your hands and knees slut."

You're stomach flips from the degrading name. It's not something you and him do often but the coolness in his voice tells you he isn't taking no for an answer. And to be quite honest, you're a little turned on by the change.

"You want to fuck me here on this carpeted floor?" You ask once your ass is propped in front of him. You just know he's staring at it. Your fingers claw the ground as you wait for his response.

"You're still on birth control right?" He falls to his knees behind you and guides the tip of his cock over your folds teasingly.

"Y-yes," you say. The feeling on his head rubbing against you already has your core twisting in pleasure.

"Then we'll do it here. Your cunt is already dripping with your cum. Got my dick wet already." He brings a finger up to trace up your folds and you clench at the subtle touch.

"No more teasing Yoon," you beg. "Need you to fuck me."

He chuckles lowly and eases his finger in you, pushing until it sinks all the way in. "You're forgetting something..." he then moves forward to graze his lips near your ear. "Right now I own your orgasms which means I can easily edge you with my fingers all night and not give you any kind of release. So if I were you I'd try asking again, nicer."

You bite your lip and maul over his icy words. As you do Yoongi curls his finger to stimulate your G-spot. The moan that comes out of you in response has him groaning into your ear. "Please—," you say in a near whisper. "Fuck me Yoongi."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." He knows it drives you mad to do this; begging for his cock with such desperation. Still, he likes making you do it once in a while and this happens to be one of those times. Keeps you humble, he thinks.

"Please fuck me Yoongi," your repeat louder. "I can't wait any longer, please."

Yoongi gives you a quick peck on your jaw in satisfaction and sits back up on his knees. He removes his finger from your cunt and positions his length at your entrance. Both hands come out to firmly grip the sides of your hips as he pushes him in, all at once.

"Fuck—" You moan when he bottoms out. Everything inside you screams with you in arousal. Yoongi gives you a moment to adjust to the size; he knows how big he is, and then he pulls himself all the way out to slam back into you. Your body jolts forward with the push, hands gripping as much of the carpet as they can. "Yoongi!" You moan and he clamps down on your hips harder.

"Screaming so soon baby? We're just getting started fuck," he rasps and thrusts into you again, harder than the last. It doesn't take long before he gets into a steady rhythm and your moaning over and over again. "This what you like? Interrupting my work to get fucked on your hands and knees?"

"You were taking so-fuck-long. Had to do something to get you to pay attention to me again." You can hear the chain around his neck jangling louder as he fucks into you. And if you could, you'd peer over your shoulder to take in the sight but he's snapping his hips so fast and hard in you that your only option is to stare in front of you at the blank wall or down at your hands.

"My attention? You thought I wasn't paying attention to you—fucking hell this pussy is so wet and tight it's making me even harder." He picks up his pace, thrusting into you with determination and pure lust. Each time his cock sinks into your pussy he feels a spark of electric pleasure surge through him, going straight to his cock. "I promise, you don't have to worry about that anymore. Do you wanna know what I was working on? I'll tell you if you want to know."

"I thought that was classified and I'd exploit your company if you told me." You mimic his voice from earlier.

Yoongi gives your butt a slap instantly and you moan at the contact. "Don't be a smart ass when I'm balls deep in you. Now as I was saying, do you want to know what I was working on?"

"A new song? Oh shit, right there!" Your eyes roll up when all the thrusting starts making your walls clench, nearing your high. "Fuck, fuck Yoongi, harder, please! So close."

"We're gonna need to go a second time if you're coming this fast baby," Yoongi says, beating into your pussy. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes off the four walls of the bedroom. "Want this cock Mrs. Min? Want it to make you come all over me?"

"Yes, yes I do Yoongi. Make me come with your big cock. Fuck!" You pant as he continues to move inside you. "But you did it again Yoon. Calling me Mrs."

"Just-fuck-go with it!"

"Oh god I'm gonna come. Any time now," you whine, the cord inside you so, so close to breaking. Yoongi gives you a few more full thrusts and with that, you have your first orgasm.

"You soaked me baby," he groans. "Fuck." He pulls himself out of you to your surprise and you whip your head around your shoulder.

"You didn't come," you say.

"I know, but as hot as your ass is I want to see the face of the woman I'm going to be marrying when I come. So how about rolling on your back for me while I'm still hard?"

"Okay," you nearly grin with sheer happiness when you hear how sentimental your finance' sounds. Yoongi can be a tough man but his he's got a heart of pure gold.

"I love you," you say before he wraps your legs around his waist and puts himself back into you.

"I love you too." Yoongi puts himself back into you and starts chasing his release with so much passion that it stirs another spark of arousal inside you. "Oh my god baby, feels so good. And your eyes are so beautiful, lips perfect for kissing, and wanna hold you like this forever. I love it when you cling onto my arm when we're out in public too and when you fall asleep on my chest when it's just us. Fuck, fuck gonna come soon."

Your mouth gapes open at how much is flooding from his lips right now. The combination of his length working you up to a second orgasm and his words making you on the verge of tears is too much to handle. "Come in me Yoon, I love you. Only you."

He finally releases at your word and you come for the second time that night. Yoongi gently places your legs on the ground and pulls himself out of you. "Are you okay?" He asks. "We should've done this on the bed. I'm sorry, I got carried away and wasn't thinking—"

"I liked it," you reassure. "Do you...uh do you want to take a bath now?" Yoongi smiles and nods.

"I'll run the water in a few minutes."

"No I can do it," you move to get up but he stops you with a hand on your arm.

"I'll do it baby. Stay with me a moment longer." You lay back down as he crawls next to you on his back.

.

"Uhm Yoon," you ask, leaning your head back on his chest. You're both in the tub now with the hot water soothing your muscles. "Did You mean everything you said a few minutes ago? All the stuff about my eyes and...stuff."

Yoongi hears the faintest insecurity in your voice and wraps his arms around your waist from under the water. "I meant every word of it. And you want to know something?"

"What?"

"We never got to finish this thought earlier. But the reason I've been so preoccupied with my music lately is because I've been trying to make a song to surprise you with at our wedding. I've been struggling to find the right beats and lyrics because, well it's you. And anything I've come up with isn't doing the trick." He pauses and you're lost for words. You had no idea his "new song" was for you the whole time. "I'm sorry I insisted I bring my equipment this weekend," he says.

"I don't even know what to say Yoongi. You wrote a song for our wedding. I feel so dumb for being mad about it." You wipe a few tears from your eyes, just small ones that manages to fall from your eyes.

"Hey, don't cry baby," he coos. "And don't call yourself dumb. You didn't know and I was more preoccupied than I should have been about it. It's not finished though since you know, we had sex in the middle of it all."

"I—I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I love having sex with you. In fact, if you wanted to have sex in this tub right now you wouldn't hear me complaining at all."

"Yoongi-"

"I'm serious __ so if this is you getting shy then there's only one way to cure it. I'll start listing everything I enjoy about being with you. Let's start with when I sink my fingers into your wet pussy. Your moans are so pretty, begging for me to add an—"

"Ah stop, stop stop stop!" It shouldn't embarrass you but it does. Yoongi laughs at your change of character and kisses the side of your head.

"I'm just saying you don't have to apologize for anything alright? I'm the one that should be doing that."

"No, I understand why you brought it with you. But from now on can you try leaving it at home more? At least when we go on our honeymoon?"

"I promise you I will not bring it on our honeymoon. That is a line I will not cross."

"You better not," you say, closing your eyes. "I'll really not have it with you then."

"I expect nothing less as my wife. I know we've said it a hundred times already but I do love you __. More than anything. Even my music."

You tell him that you love him too, complete calmness showering over you. To the happy couple, you hum to yourself.

a/n: Hoping you enjoyed as much as I did writing this. TY for reading and LMK your thoughts 💞

masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

01 — TOO YOUNG TO KNOW IT GETS BETTER

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You almost worshipped him.

It wasn’t because of his status – although, that certainly played a role in it all – and it wasn’t because of his bank statements.

No. Phillip Graves was one of the best men you’d ever known.

Or so you had thought.

Turns out, no matter how well he looked after his men – his ‘girl’ – and no matter how charismatic he was, that wouldn’t, couldn't change his roots. And, at those very roots, was decay. Evil in its most purest of forms; a tantalisingly devastating mix of every sin.

The most prevalent one?

Greed. 

He was a greedy, greedy man, and he would stop at nothing to have it all. Even if he knew the fall out; even if he knew that he could never go back to the man he once was.

Phillip Graves didn’t care. Not in the slightest.

And it was you that would pay the ultimate price.

*

Rain beats down your back in heavy sheets as you stand, the harsh night littered with flashlights and car sirens.

It’s cool, just this side of too cold, and it has the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the temperature.

The temperature, and…

“Yup-yup,” the two men to your right call into their comms. You remain silent, but it goes unnoticed. Your eyes are trained to the paved street, rippling with the rainwater, littered with streaks of red.

Blood stains this town, and you haven't done anything to stop it.

“Let’s go.”

Raising your head, you meet the eyes of the operative who, ranks-wise, is below you. Really, you should be reprimanding him for his quip, but you understand the annoyance. You’re being quiet – something quite unusual for your normally direct and authoritative nature.

Tightening your grip around the shiny, water-slicked gun in your hand, you give him a sharp nod in response.

Seemingly satisfied, he turns, and you follow him along the sidewalk of the narrow, stone streets. Shops line either side of the area, their front-windows smashed and the products inside thrown about.

It’s like your heart has launched itself into your throat, the constant thrum of it setting your nerves alight.

“Three-zero, I want you and your two to find those Brits. We’ve got the cops. Copy?” 

That once reassuring, adoring voice is now cold, void of any emotion he used to have. It makes tears burn at the back of your vision – if you were a weaker woman, they’d have fallen. Instead, you press down the button for your comms.

“Copy, Sir. Three-zero out.”

The fact that you manage to get those words out is a feat in and of its own.

It feels as though you’re lost at sea, with nothing to hold onto. Buoyant, but barely – every wave threatening to pull you under for good. To smother your silent cries for help, for guidance, for something to keep you grounded.

But there is no sea, and there is no support.

“You two go up ahead, I’ll search the house here,” you say, voice thick with demand. You didn’t have to decide anything right now. You just had to be the leader you were, and do what you’ve always done.

“Copy,” your two subordinates say, moving up further.

With their absence, you find that you can breathe – as if a weight has been lifted off of your chest, and you can finally fill your lungs.

You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive.

The mantra helps, surprisingly, and you hold onto those two words like they’re your only lifeline.

Through the thick of night and rain, you can see the door to the house on your left. It’s been left open, which means that either it’s already been searched – which you doubt – or… Someone else has been in there.

Gun secured in your grip, you move to the door with soft footing, quiet enough to not be heard over the shouts of other shadows just a few ways away. The constant pattering of the overhead storm clouds slow, just the slightest, allowing for a bit more sight.

Using your shoulder to further open the door with a creak, you take note of your surroundings immediately.

There’s a flickering light to the room on your far right, a living area, most likely. To your left is a short hallway, but none of the doors alert you of any occupancy. The place has been torn apart, pictures scattered along the wooden floor, shards of glass decorating the space along with it.

It sends a pang of guilt through your chest.

These were families being torn apart by your commander, your company. And for what? What was Graves’ angle here? 

You’d been left on base to keep things running smoothly while Graves and unit one worked with the 141 and Las Vaqueros. You knew very little about any of this, and when you’d been called out to Las Almas, to aid with this?

This wasn’t what you fought for. This wasn’t what you would ever support, not in a million years.

But going against direct orders was going against your commander, and your livelihood. Shadow Company was all you’d known since your childhood. Having been hired when Graves was merely a young-upstart with big dreams, you were quickly swept up in the community of it all. They were your family, and Graves was the only semblance of a ‘loved one’ you had.

And now?

Now, he was sending you on a bounty hunt, for two men who, from your limited knowledge, didn’t deserve death. They were the good guys, and although most of your existing bias towards the two was due to rumours back on base, your intuition said that they were good men. And your intuition had never steered you wrong, not once.

Your mind feels like a never ending turbine as you move through the house, eyeing the barren walls and smashed vases. 

Exhaling a low, deep breath, you tighten your hold on your weapon. It’s more of a comfort, at this point. Which is odd, considering that its sole purpose is to kill and destroy.

Through the dim light, you manage to find a set of stairs. They’re dingy, and the patterned carpet is mildew-riddled as you make your way to the next floor with slow, careful steps.

You’ve decided to keep your flashlight off, just in case it brings any extra attention to you.

As soon as you make it to the last step, a sense of… wrongness settles in your system. Something’s off, and it’s almost as if there’s an alarm ringing in your ears at the realisation. 

Someone’s here.

Grounding yourself, both mentally and physically, you prepare to push through the hallway.

Setting aside your mental dilemma, you remind yourself that the physical battle is far more vital to your life right now. If you lose that, you lose your life.

If you lose your morals?

You just suppose you lose yourself.

The sound of a radio switching on has your senses alerted like a switchboard completely alight. 

Stepping into the hallway, your chest constricting, you snap your gaze to both of your sides. With the little-to-no light, you can barely make out your limbs, let alone your surroundings. Your spatial awareness was solid, but with conditions like this? Near impossible.

The entire corridor is shrouded in shadow, the incessant rain outside and the screams of the cartel’s policemen ringing in your ears. 

It reeks of death and despair, and your skin is coated in a thin sheen of chilled sweat.

The third door to your left is creaked open, just the slightest sliver, but it catches your attention like a moth to a flame. Keeping your frame encased in the darkest of the shadows, you move with patient, skillful steps towards the door.

A moment passes, tense and nerve-wracking in a way no other mission has ever been.

A breath in.

A breath out.

You push open the door, gun raised, ready for anything –

Nothing.

Quickly checking over the room to your right, you see nothing but bashed up mattresses and blood-stained carpet.

Just as you’re about to turn to check behind the door, two things happen at once.

One, you get slammed to the ground, your head knocking against the hard flooring and sending a burst of pain through your temple, your gun skidding across the floor to your left.

Two –

“Fuckin’ Christ!”

A man – scottish, that much is prevalent – whisper-shouts. You squint, the pain of the sudden fall throwing you off.

Not a second later, however, you manage to roll, shoving him off of you with a grunt. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, but you manage to make out the impossibly muscled frame of the man who’d just fallen on top of you.

He’s tall, not as giant as some of the men you served alongside with, but tall nonetheless. That’s all of the visual information you manage to gain before he sends an elbow to your gut, evoking a hiss through your gritted teeth.

You wriggle away, kicking out with your right foot and hitting what you think is his chin, considering his pained grunt.

“You bloody bastard,” he snaps, hand wrapping around your ankle and pulling you.

Your responding squeak is likely the most undignified sound you have ever made in your life, but it gives the man pause. Enough of one so as to allow you to wrench your leg back and careen it back into his face.

“Shut the fuck up!” You hiss back, all too aware of the likelihood that your men will show up and shoot first, ask later. 

“Are you feckin’ stupid, lass?” He retorts, although his tone is dutifully lower as he scrambles to grab your legs once more, his fist finding your belt and pulling you towards him.

Your attempts to dig your heels into the ground to prevent yourself from being pinned by him are fruitless, his strength undoubtedly superior to yours. That was a fact all too common when it came to your hand-to-hand fights, but luckily, it was just one factor of many.

“Are you?” Your shock is palpable as he gets his other hand around the other side of your belt, using the grip to pull himself over you.

His torso is pressed against your own as he goes to pin your hands, but with one quick manoeuvre, you wrap your legs around his waist and turn.

Utilising your lower body strength, you’re able to reverse the position, your hips pinning his to the ground. In one sweep of your hands, you collect both of his wrists and force them into the carpet. The room fills with your harsh, panted breaths, the outside commotion only a distant soundtrack.

“Yer supposed to kill me now, Shadow,” he says, a torment, a threat. 

You swallow, once, an unsure thing. 

He’s right, of course. He should be dead by now, bleeding out onto the floor. You should be comming to your fucking Commander, and telling him that one of the men he’s after has just been reported KIA. That’s what should be happening.

So how come it’s not?

“I know,” you say, the words falling through your lips despite the internal conflict in your head. “You should be dead.”

He mirrors your confusion with raised brows, and it’s then that you can feel the blood trickling onto your hand. He’s bleeding down his arm, you realise with a start. He’s wounded.

Flitting your gaze to the floor up ahead, you catch sight of your gun, only a few steps away. One shot is all you’d need. One second, and that mouth of his would never open again.

The sole window in the room flashes with a burst of lightning, and that short second of light lets you catch sight of his features. Blood coats his jaw – from your kicks, maybe – and he’s got dirt caked onto his cheek. His stubble has clearly missed a few shaves, and his mohawk isn’t gelled.

“Still waiting, Shadow,” he says. And although he’s quiet, the words feel like a yell in the tense room. Like a shout directly into your soul, screaming for you to sort your shit out.

You go to respond – with what, you’re not sure – when the man underneath you manages to rip his hands from your grip and swing them around the back of your neck. He pulls you forward, your neck fitting into the crook of his elbow as he squeezes.

When you try to inhale, you end up choking on a cough. He’s strangling you, you realise, with his fucking biceps.

There’s mere moments for you to make a decision before you pass out, or he breaks your neck. Moments for you to decide what the fuck you can do.

Balling your right hand into a tight fist, you punch into his nose, a sickening crack making your teeth slide together. He swears, rapid-fire, a few Gaelic-sounding words slipping out along with them. It’s enough of a distraction to let you wrench out of his hold with a cough, wincing when you claw at his arm and draw blood. Thank fuck for fingerless gloves.

Crawling forward as he brings a hand up to his now-bleeding nose, you’re just a breath away from reaching your gun when his hand grabs into your hair and pulls, eliciting a cry from you.

It’s a dirty move, but this is a dirty fight.

“Fucking – let go!” You grit out, the pain of the tightening on your scalp unique and not at all tolerable.

He just pulls tighter in response, and as you try and reach the gun, your fingers fall just millimetres short. It’s maddening, your emotions out of whack and your mental compass skewed beyond belief.

He should be fucking dead. He should be fucking dead.

So why wasn’t he?

You realise that he’s using his grip on you for leverage, to move himself closer to the weapon. Reaching towards his bare arm, you manage to catch your hand around it, nails digging into his wet skin.

He lets out a pained groan, and it becomes quickly apparent to you that he’s been shot in that arm. Moving your fingers, your index finger pushes into the open wound.

His grip on your hair goes lax, and he stops moving towards the gun long enough to allow you to move on top of him once more, pinning him underneath your weight. You’re both evidently weaker than the last time you were in this position, and you’re about to do something, something, something –

“Johnny? How copy?” An urgent, oddly panicked voice echoes around the room. It’s crackled, in only the way a radio’s can, and the two of you stun yourselves into freezing. His communications have been dislocated, and now they’re loud and clear for both of you to hear. “Johnny, what the fuck is happening?”

“Shit,” Johnny curses, head falling back against the ground in exasperation. 

You’re not sure when you’d laxed your grip from his wound, your hand loose around his arm. You’re not sure when you’d subconsciously started avoiding fatal moves.

At this point, you’re not sure about anything at all.

Although it’s hard to see, you’re sure that the two of you make eye contact.

Neither of you make a move.

“Soap!”

Slowly, Johnny moves his hand to the communicator in his vest, pressing the button to allow for his voice to carry over to the man on the other end. 

“A little occupied, Sir,” he murmurs, tightly.

If you move your hand to his throat, or use this as a distraction, you could have him dead before the other man could even register his words.

“I can’t get a visual on you,” the other man quips back, voice laced with thinly-veiled worry. “Johnny, if you die, I’m fuckin’ killing your ass.”

You bite back a slightly crazed chuckle at that statement, and by the shift in Johnny’s chest, he does too.

Johnny doesn’t turn off his communicator. The other man – Ghost, if you’re correct – will be able to hear everything you say.

Ghost and Soap.

Jesus H. Christ. Soap – Johnny MacTavish – the 141 operator you heard whispers about throughout your unit – he was underneath you. He was on the run from your commander. He was the man you were assigned to fucking kill.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

You’re alive.

“Shadow Three-Zero, what’s your status?”

Oh, fuck. Fucking hell.

Both you and Johnny’s eyes dart to your own communicator – the earpiece scattered along the floor just as his had been.

Graves’ voice. It sends a shiver down your spine for all the wrong reasons, and the lump in your throat doubles in size. If it’s at all possible, the rain outside grows louder, and more gunshots echo in your ears.

“Shadow Three-Zero. Have you got ‘em? Don’t go two-timing me now, babe.”

How he’s – how he’s being so light, so carefree while storming these streets and murdering fathers, brothers, sons in cold blood – it cements a thought in your head. Out of the storm of them, the endless noise of them all, one becomes concrete. Factual. A single truth in your world of lies.

You press down your communicator button.

“Haven’t found them yet, sir. Wouldn’t dream of going against you.”

“Atta girl,” he responds, a light chuckle carrying over the radio. “After this is all done, we can have a celebration of our own, hey?”

Your mouth is barren of moisture, your tongue a heavy weight that feels all too useless as you reply once more. It doesn’t go unnoticed how neither Soap, or Ghost over the comms, say a word.

“It’ll be my pleasure, sir.”

You rip off your communicator, throwing it across the room. It sets the course of the rest of your life, you’re sure. You still do it.

All the while, you hold Soap’s gaze.

He hasn’t killed you. He could’ve, you realise, he really could’ve. He had the opportunity. Still does.

But.

You’re alive.

And so is he.

“What’re you doin’, Shadow?” Johnny finally asks, equally suspicious and curious. His tone is tight, almost as much as his body is against your own. 

You’d almost forgotten that he’s underneath you. Weaponless, and bleeding out. Wounded.

On the run.

Your eyes are wide, manic, maybe, as you say with shaky breaths;

“This isn’t right. I – I don’t fight for this. You guys, you,” squeezing your eyes shut, if only for a brief moment, you continue, slower, “This isn’t the Graves I know. I’m not going to be on the wrong side of history. I’d rather betray him than stand by his side with blood on my hands.”

Soap must sense your conviction, your wobbly words holding such truth and capability in them, because he nods, sharply.

“Johnny,” the radio chimes in again, the man’s tone a warning. “Don’t.”

Soap works his mouth, a crease forming between his blood-stained brows. If you were at all a poet, you’d akin his blue eyes to a storm-brewed sea. But you’re a soldier, so they’re merely obvious in the window’s scarce light, a stark contrast to the reds and darkness all around you both.

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. You’d clearly hit your head too hard when Soap had crashed into you, or you’d been drugged earlier.

“I have intel,” you blurt out, like a crazed lunatic. That description is, unfortunately, a little too fitting to your current state. “I’m – I’m a fucking good fighter. You help me, I help you.”

“We don’t need your help,” Soap quickly, almost automatically, retorts. But his words seem weak, his certainty nowhere on your own.

“You’re shot and on the run with no weapons,” you reply, slowly. Words. You were good at words, at debates. You could survive this. Maybe. “I know Graves. I know my men. And I know that I’d rather be a traitor than a war criminal.”

That’s maybe the most true thing you’d thought, or said, since you’d first been asked to head to Las Almas with an order to kill.

There’s silence. 

A few beats pass before you open your mouth once more, tone just this side of pleading, “I’ll help you guys survive this. If you help me take down Graves, and support me – if you give me the assets I need. That’s all I’m asking.”

“We don’t trust you,” Soap says, and you nod.

“I don’t exactly have faith in you either. But it’s this or we all end up dead.”

Ghost inputs something, this time. “If you two make it to the church, we’ll consider it.”

That’s the most you can ask for. The best possible outcome from you being the biggest fucking idiot to walk this earth. You were lucky that Soap was… merciful. Which was, all things considered, the weirdest component of this entire, messed up equation.

It seems like agreement passes through you all, like a sort of handshake. An invisible one, but a symbol of truce nonetheless.

“Get yer ass offa me,” Soap groans, breaking the tension of the room. 

Scrambling off of him, but keeping your wits about you, you realise that you’d virtually been laying on the man your entire conversation. Your ears burn in embarrassment.

“...Right. I’m taking my gun,” you murmur.

Which is, obviously, the worst thing to say.

“Are you feckin’ serious? Dinnae wanna work with an idiot, Jesus,” Soap immediately hisses out, getting up with a hand on his knee, bringing his other to press against his bullet wound with a wince. You think that Ghost says something similar, but it’s drowned out by Soap.

“I’m best with close-range, and I’m not the one wounded,” you immediately bite back, hand wrapping around said weapon and holding it to your chest, checking over the room for any more supplies. Luckily, unlike the man in front of you, you still have all of your supplies and gear. His top is thin, you think, and soaked through with both rain and blood. Your standard Shadow Company uniform still fits you like a second skin, and although wet, doesn’t soak into your bottom layers. Your tactical knife, still strapped to your thigh, is secure and perfectly in place.

How you’d not used it in that fight was a testament to your mindscape more than anything.

“How do I know ye won’t just shoot me when my back’s turned?” Soap shoots back, his tone a weapon in its own right. 

You raise a brow, and you hope that he can see it. “I would’ve done that already if that was my plan. And you’re calling me an idiot.”

“You’re a right ass,” he retorts, not unlike a petulant child.

“And you’re a right dickhead.” And, alright, you realise that you’re not much better, but it’s deserved.

“And you both need to hurry the fuck up.”

You and Soap both have the decency to wince at the man’s words, and you both shut up as you finish checking over yourselves. You, focusing on checking your straps and belt, and Soap, hissing about his wound.

…If this camaraderie lasted the night, you’d think about apologising for that move.

Checking over your gun, you move to slowly open the door as Soap fixes up his radio, putting his earpiece back in its place. You are, admittedly, a bit annoyed that you won’t be able to hear Ghost’s callouts, but again, you had a gun.

“Let’s go,” you softly say, tilting your head towards the door. Soap nods, clearly ready to meet back up with his Lieutenant and get out of here.

As you slowly open the door, guns raised and eyes alert, you let the reality of your situation settle over you like the world’s coldest blanket. You’re going against everything you’ve ever known, all because of your morals that had always been slightly off-centre. Came with the job, you supposed.

But this was uncharted territory. Directly betraying your unit, your men, your Commander, and helping the men you’re assigned to kill? Asking them for their help in return?

“Clear,” you softly report to Soap, who acknowledges your order with a low noise. Following you with silent steps down the stairs, you keep your gun raised as you check over the bottom floor, before signalling for him to exit through the front door with you.

As the two of you enter the laneway once more, your breath catches in your throat as you assess the damage.

You spot several bodies littering the streets as rain hits you once more, the presence of it oddly comforting throughout it all. A truck up ahead has its lights on, the red of the brakes shining against the wet pavement like the pools of blood not three metres away from it.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap murmurs from behind you, and you can’t help but agree with his sentiment.

This was pure bloodshed, at the hands of the one man you thought you could trust.

Betrayal tastes oddly sour in your mouth. Betrayal like this, on all sides, it’s like being suffocated by two cloths at once. Two very bloody, very assaulting cloths, at that.

Soap seems to be communicating with Ghost as the two of you make your way down the street, considering the back-and-forth whispers from Soap. He seems almost. Flirty. Which is a stark realisation, and truly, the least of your worries right now.

“If you can find bandages, or something close to it, I’ll get that arm of yours fixed up.”

You keep your tone low, careful of your surroundings as you see Soap nod, albeit almost in shock, in your periphery. Keeping your gaze forward, you move along the sidewalk.

The beauty of these shops, and this community, has been tarnished by the massacre of your Shadows. Your heart aches, seeing it all – the smashed windows, the blood, the distant sound of screaming and crying.

You and Soap make it about a block in silence, before flashlights ahead have you grabbing onto Soap’s shirt and pulling him into the open door of the shop to your left, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“Shadow Three-Zero’s gone silent,” you hear a familiar voice say. Your subordinate – one of the two you’d sent to check the houses up ahead. “Reckon she’s dead?”

Soap, for his part, is silent where he’s been pushed up against the wall, your head meeting his collarbone. 

“Nah. She mighta slept her way to the top, but she’s good. Probably gone dark so she can suck Graves off on the side or something.”

Your breath comes out in a sharp exhale, your fists tightening unknowingly onto the fabric of Soap’s shirt. He doesn’t even breathe in response.

The other chuckles. “Fuckin’ slut. Can’t believe she gets to order us around when we all know why she’s here.”

And, oh, does that make your stomach turn. You were many things, but you were not one to abuse a position like that. They knew nothing of your struggles, or your relationships, or –

“Fuckin’ cocksuckers,” Soap grumbles, and that shocks you. For a man in the military to recognise misogyny like that was, really, unheard of.

You ignore that thought.

“Shut up.”

He does.

The two Shadows continue walking down the street, and you quickly peer out of the front window to watch them head down another sidealley, taking their thoughts with them.

“Come on,” is all you say, and Johnny follows tightly behind you as you continue down the way you were heading. 

You find an alleyway to your left, and you decide to follow it. You can see a flashlight scanning over the street further down. Shadows were everywhere, but they were pushing forward like a tsunami over a coastal town, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

Soap follows you without question, which is odd, but you’re not about to complain.

“Ghost says that there’s underground tunnels – we can get to the church through ‘em,” Soap murmurs as he taps your shoulder. You nod, not looking back as you search for any telling of where the best route would be.

After a few minutes, the two of you find yourselves nearing the tunnels Ghost had spoken about.

It’s when you’re about to head into the deep end – quite literally, considering the flooding – that an all too familiar and bone-chilling voice yells out from the right of you both, down another street.

“She’s gone dark – you will find her alive, and if she’s dead, you will be too!” Graves roars, and your heart skips a beat. “She could be hurt, or captured – she is your top priority now, Shadows!”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and if you look down, you’re almost certain that you’ll find your stomach laying at your feet.

A greedy, greedy man. That was what Phillip Graves was – now, more than ever.

If you were a weaker woman, a civilian, maybe, instead of a seasoned soldier, you’d have vomited by now.

Instead, you shoot Soap a look.

“Ghost still at the church?” Is all you ask.

Soap nods. “Yeah. Lt’s talkin’ my ear off,” he says with an eye roll, but his lips quirk into a half-tilted grin more resemblant of a satisfied pup.

“Didn’t think the 141 was so close,” you reply, and you could slap yourself for how nosy you sound. You’re not, not in the slightest – all you cared about was surviving both Graves and them.

Soap’s eyes hold an indecipherable gleam to them when he responds, a touch domestically, “You have no idea.”

You itch to delve deeper, to unpack that statement that seems to hold so many layers, but you keep your mouth respectfully shut.

And you prepare to meet Ghost at the end of the tunnel.

a/n. cutely drops this and hides!! jk but umm idk man this fic idea has been nibbling at my brain and GAWDDD smth about it just. got the juices flowing. this is my personality now thanks gn. if you guys enjoyed please comment or reblog or follow!! ty so very muchly ily all &lt;3