➵ Two years after you left Taehyung, you call him from an empty hotel room feeling lonely.
➵ Warnings: Yandere Taehyung, Idealisation of Yandere Behaviour, reader is messed up lmao, Stockholm Syndrome big time, basically what happens if someone leaves their captor and then does not recover from SS
➵ Word Count: 1.4K
➵ Masterlist
➵ a/n: this is dedicated to @kpopyandere who left a rly nice reply under a post where i was whining abt not being able to write this fic lol. you motivated me to keep going and make this! <3 it’s not perfect but like also it’s not awful (i hope)
↳ material/bodily comforts, such as food, warmth, or special accommodations, that contribute to physical ease and well-being
→🚪 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader
→🌿 genre: fantasy!au, soulmate!au, angst with a happy ending, fluff, hurt + comfort + recovery, eventual smut
→🍞 word count: 2.1k
→🍨 summary: you’re a prisoner here, but you can’t remember why. you can’t remember much of anything. not where you came from, not who you are, not even what you are. what happens when a pack of terrifying monsters breaks into the facility where you’re being held. not to kill you, but to…protect you?
→📔 a/n: a completely self-indulgent hurt + comfort story that I wrote (and will most likely continue to write) in a frenzy because I wanted to read it :) if you’re excited to read more of this series please reblog and share your thoughts!!
Pairing: Jimin x Reader x Taehyung
Genre: poly!AU | angst
Word Count: 5k
Summary: Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung together are perfect. There is no doubt and no room for questions. But where does that leave you?
Warnings: mentions of infidelity, poly relationship, probably a swear word or two, insecurities / self esteem issues
Author’s Note: This one’s for the approximately two readers I have left after the purge, thanks for sticking with me lol Enjoy!
Park Jimin is close to perfect. He is a senior partner to one of the most successful law firms in the country and has never been seen breaking a sweat over anyone or anything. You would assume he is calculating and cold as a man in such a high position, but contrary to the tough image his job description entails, he exudes kindness. You can see it in his eyes and the way he smiles; he is a kindhearted individual.
Kim Taehyung is close to perfect. You only have to look at his face and you know why someone would say that. He looks every bit like a painting, but never misplaced in his veterinary clinic. He puts the greatest care into treating his patients, always giving his all even when faced with a challenge. If there is one man who can diagnose an animal’s disease undoubtedly in 5 minutes, it’s him; he is a genius.
Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung together are perfect. There is no doubt and no room for questions. You can see it in the way they simply look at each other. What they share is pure and unfiltered love. Their story sounds like it was stolen from a silly rom-com, leaving your heart aching whenever you hear it. Jimin bumped into Taehyung on his daily coffee run, thus spilling his latte all over the latter. They exchanged numbers so Jimin could compensate Taehyung for his sullied clothes and the rest is history.
So whenever you are confronted with the question of how you had ended up in a polyamorous relationship with the two of them, you can only shrug sheepishly. You, yourself, do not know the answer. It was probably luck, you usually reply to the ones who ask. And then this disappointed look crosses their countenance as if they expected you to justify how a mediocre young woman such as yourself, who in no shape or form met the standards Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung set, managed to court them.
Summary: Because self-care always comes first. A Peppermint Mocha drabble.
Pairing: OT7/Reader
Warnings: a bit angsty. Hurt/comfort. A reminder that you will be okay. That school isn’t everything.
Length: 1.4k
Notes: because I had a really, really bad day. Unedited. Sorry. Thank you, grey.
.
.
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The day starts out fairly normally.
The winter chill sweeps past as you tug on your hood, grip tightening over the strap of your laptop bag as you make your way to the science building. The sun peeks from the sparse covering today, the skies a mellow hue of pale baby blue. You hum under your breath, enjoying the fresh air and cool breeze of early dawn.
“Hey,” Ahri grins, falling into step beside you as she pushes open the atrium doors. “Ready for that quiz today?”
Your heart stops and you stare at her, mouth dropping.
synopsis: His heat is telling him he needs to go deeper. That he needs to do more. That he needs to breed.
j.jeongguk x f.reader
Ი︵𐑼 ┊: wc: 4.1k
Ი︵𐑼 ┊: genre: hybrid au, smut, fluff
Ი︵𐑼 ┊: content: rabbit hybrid!jeongguk, human!reader, established relationship, rut, straight smut, pwp pretty much the whole time, cervix penetration, overstimulation, marathon sex, heavy breeding kink, lots of cum, mild aftercare, kook gets a little anxious, mildly dubious consent (but you’re into it the whole time), lack of safe word discussion, i think that’s it :3 -> part of the ctrl the cold 2025 event
Ი︵𐑼 ┊: notes: The first fic of my winter series! I’m very excited to present to you all of these fics, I’ve been working on them for a while so I hope you all enjoy!! I have 10 weeks of fics lined up in the cue, so even if this fic isn’t your cup of tea, I hope you find something in there somewhere ^>^ !! I really love bunny!koo (and I have lots of other ideas of drabbles involving you too) but for now I’ll just leave it as this. Enjoy!
18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni -> smut begins right under the cut
“Shii– Shit! Jeongguk!”
Your voice is high, strained. Cracking from use, from the moans that Jeongguk somehow continues to pull from your slack form. Your cunt hardly able to clench anymore, cum and arousal practically pooling against the bed sheets. More and more of it somehow spilling from your cunt every time he thrusts deep inside of you.
You’re a complete wreck, to say the least.
Your pussy is red, sore. Your lips all puffed up from use, the inner walls practically screaming for a break that Jeongguk doesn’t allow. Your limbs tired, slumped against the mattress. The only thing still holding your hips up being the man behind you. Colours flick in and out of your vision, darkness wanting to take you as they spot in the corners of your eyes.
When you had agreed to help your sort-of boyfriend (he calls you his mate, explained it’s something similar to a boyfriend for hybrids but you couldn’t quite differentiate between the two) through his rut, you had never expected it to be like this. Even if he did live in the wild, even if he did act more on instinct than a typical hybrid, you never thought it could be this all-encompassing need. Had never imagined that the saying fuck like bunnies could be so utterly true for someone who is still still half human.
In all fairness, he had tried to warn you. Had tried to explain how insatiable he would be, how little of a rebound time he would need between rounds. How he was scared of losing control and breaking you.
The whole time, you had just reassured him. Calmed him down, promised him you could manage just fine. The voice in your head giggling over the wild rabbit’s mild concern. You had taken him before– you had already known he had a crazy amount of stamina, typically lasted 3 rounds before he was well and truly satisfied– how could his rut be much different?
You really should’ve done more research before you got involved with one, especially with your muted knowledge on hybrids in general. Before the bunny that was stealing veggies from your garden fell so completely into your heart that you could never deny him a single thing. Before he started courting you like a good rabbit would. Before he decided that he wanted to be with you forever.
Now, you’re regretting closing all of those tabs on google informing you about his species, figuring that he would tell you everything that you needed to know. That he would help you through it just like everything else in your relationship.
And at first, it was fine. Well and truly, it was.
About a week ago, Jeongguk had pounded against your back door with shaky hands, his entire body twitching in place. Soft brown ears perked upright, scanning back and forth while his foot threatened to thumb at the sign of anything. Clearly disturbed. Clearly upset.
He managed to maintain decorum when finally faced with you, doing everything in his power to not launch himself into your home and start scenting the place. Made it reek of him.
No, he was good. He waited until you invited him inside, gave you a little half hug and placed a kiss on your temple before he started walking around the perimeter. Traced around the edges of every room for no reason you could discern, picking up pillows and blankets along the way before he found his way into your bedroom.
You, you just let him go about his business. Knew it was his pre-rut kicking in, his head clogged up with the rumblings of his inner rabbit telling him what to do and where to go to make sure the house– den– burrow– whatever you wanted to call it was safe.
Let him rearrange your room into what felt safe. In fact, helped him with it. Helped him turn your bedroom into some-what of a bunny burrow– blankets covering every wall, blocking out the light from your window. Pillows and blankets scattered all across the floor, the largest pile on top of your mattress, removed from its bedframe, pressed into a corner.
Helped him when he got too manic about the fairy light placement, doing it for him while he just clung to your back, instructing you on where he wanted them hung. His face not leaving the crook of your neck, even for a moment. Barely glazing upwards at what you were doing, your scent already consuming him.
The next few days that followed included more bonding-time than you could ever imagine. Jeeongguk refused to leave you for even a second, going as far as to whine at the door whenever you went into the bathroom to pee. Muttering about how he just wanted to feel you, to make sure you were safe and that no other bucks were coming after you.
How they would find you in your locked bathroom, you weren’t sure. But you humoured him anyway. Let him scent you until your neck felt raw.
When his rut first started 3 days ago, it was manageable. Difficult, but manageable.
You could keep him under control– make him cum a few times with your hands, with your mouth. Make sure enough of his cum landed in your cunt to keep him satisfied until the next round of his rut would spike up.
Then, he let you feed him in the downtime. Let you clean him up in the shower once or twice, too. Plenty of naps included without fail as long as he could press his nose right up against your inner thigh. Let him smell his seed deep in your cunt.
He never told you it would get worse the closer it became to its end.
Now on the 4th day, he only seemed to be getting more and more manic. More insistent. More on edge.
Muttering about breeding you– about how you’re not bred yet and it’s driving him crazy. You should be bred by now, shouldn’t you? He would be able to tell if you were. He should be able to smell it and he can’t.
His nose pressing to your core after every round, refusing to fuck you anywhere but your quiverying, leaking hole. Making sure to fuck his cum back inside with his cock after every round, his fingers in the off chance he gets even slightly soft.
Round after round. Back to back. No break. No time to breathe or think about anything other than being filled up by Jeon Jeongguk. No time to do anything other than lay there and take his cock.
He’s been going at it since he woke up at noon, the sun now set beneath the horizon as the stars hang themselves high in the sky.
“It’s okay– It’s okay–” He mutters, voice high as somehow pleasure creeps up his spine once again. As he fucks into your sloppy hole over and over again without regard. Without concern for how you’re taking it, only knowing you can take more.
His hand weaves itself against your scalp, pushing your head down against the blanket as he takes you from behind for what feels like the millionth time.
“Just…” He grunts, his ears pinned back to his head. His tail twitching erratically at the base of his spine as he thrusts inside as deep as he can manage– a full inch of him still outside of your wet heat that he just can’t manage to fit inside.
“One more time… one more time mate.. You can take it, okay? You can.” He states, yet you can only give a half moan in response. Head feeling fuzzy, your body utterly drained. Not even sure how you’re still conscious after it all. Not sure if you still even feel anything below your waist.
“I just…” He huffs, hips working, grinding. Changing their course of thrusts to that of rough ruts, forcing as much of his cock into you as he can. Pressing incessantly against your cervix with the head, “Need to see my pretty human stuffed full, okay? I need it. Need it.”
He chants the phrase like a prayer. His expression pinching tight, nose scrunching up as he grinds his cock deep inside of you over and over again. The motion relentless, earth-shatteringly devastating.
“Need to get you pregnant. Wanna put my bunnies in you… that isn’t so bad, is it?” You slowly begin to feel the weight of him against your spine, his frame pressing against your own. “I just…”
He humphs again, clearly trying to find the right words in his dizzied mind. The only thing he can think of being breed, breed, breed. His rut is almost over, why aren’t you full of him yet? Why aren’t you getting pregnant like a good little doe?
Of course, his mind can’t possibly conceptualise birth control right now. Only the need to get deeper. To feel you more.
You’re barely hanging on.
You feel as thin as twine, but somehow, in some way you’re still there. Still in the moment with the love of your life as he does everything in his power to jackhammer into your raw, fucked out cunt. Unsure of how much more you can take, if you can truly help him through the rest of his– Oh.
Oh shit.
“I just need to get deeper, mate. I know I can.” His voice feels distant, yet close all at the same time. Right in your ear, across the room. All feelings and sensations blurring into one as you feel deeper, deeper, deeper pressure against your cervix than you’ve ever felt before.
Pressure forward, forward, forward inside of you. Against a place no one should ever go.
“So close, so close. –cum in here, I’ll get my pretty doe pregnant. ‘M know it. I do.” He’s barely making sense anymore either, too consumed, practically feral in his own right. “C’mon… just let me inside… let me go inside…”
Oh god. He’s going to break you.
You feel more conscious than you have been in the last few hours. All 5 of your senses springing to life all at once. The pain in your lower half coming back ten fold as you start to feel every stroke. Feel like the world is ending but beginning all at the same time.
Your pelvis hurts from his bruising grip, your legs wished to give out hours ago. Your whole body begins to tremble. Everything is too much. Everything.
“Hey.. shh shh shh..” As if sensing your impending panic, he already begins to soothe. His lips placing sloppy kisses at the ball of your spine, one of his hands releasing its grip on your hips to rub soothingly up and down your side. “It’s okay.”
Your eyes are already watering, though. A muffled cry tearing from your throat as he still doesn’t let up on the pressure deep inside. Pausing pressing forward, but keeping his cock’s presence there– known.
“Hurts– Hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts!” You’re a whimpering, messy thing. Hair tangled from sweat and the way he tossed you around so carelessly earlier in the day. Your frame begging for release, for some sort of reprieve from his frenzied breeding attempts.
“I know– I know baby, I do…” Even as he says it though, he lets out a whine. Feeling your slick walks pulse around him– trying to get him out or keep him in, neither of you are really sure. “I know.”
His free hand, the one that was gently trailing your sides now slides down to your stomach. Right to where your uterus sits under the skin. His thumb finding home against your flesh, rubbing soft, comforting circles into the surface.
If he was in his right mind, he’d ask if you want to stop. He’d check in a million times just to make sure the girl he loves the most in the world can take just a little bit more.
But he’s not in his right mind, the both of you know that well enough.
“After this, after this I promise it’s over. Promise I’ll be done.” The words feel hollow, even if he means them, “I just…”
God, he’s pressing forward again and the pain is all consuming. All consuming but something in you can’t tell him no. Doesn’t want to tell him to stop.
Something in you, despite how much it hurts, despite how much you need a break, wants him to continue on. Wants him to take everything he can from you, to use you for his pleasure alone. To just– do what he needs to do to get through this rut and make him happy.
He owes you big time when tomorrow comes. When his rut will finally subside.
His feet plant themselves on the bed, his entire weight pressing into your back as he manages to hold your hips up with shaky, manic hands. His cock no longer rocking to try and fuck his way past your cervix, but forcing his way inside by brute strength alone.
“Little more. Almost there. Almost there. Almost inside.” He pants, breathless. His lips pressed to the back of your neck, his teeth scratching against the surface with every word. Not a single grunt of his hidden from your ears, allowing you to hear just how much strain he’s putting into the movement.
“Almost there. Just a little more. Little more and then I can get you nice and pregnant. Can fill you up. Please please please!” He’s resorted to begging, feeling the wall ever so slowly give way to his impending need. Not stopping, not pausing to give it a second of reprieve until–
His gasp is somehow first, the loudest. The response is instantaneous as you feel his entire form tighten above you. Feel him shake out a chill travelling down his spine.
His voice fills your ear as you finally feel it deep inside. The final pop past the barrier. The searing pain of him engulfing you from the inside out setting all of your nerves on fire.
The head of his ruined cock inside of your womb. Him as deep inside of him as his anatomy would allow.
You let out a whine of a cry, your entire body responding to the intrusion in its entirety. The last bit of strength in your thighs giving way, your hands opening before fisting into the blanket. Your head shaking back and forth harshly as you adjust to the new, strange, demanding feeling deep inside of your gut.
You’re only given a second to adjust to the feeling. To accommodate the stretch of him inside of a place he shouldn’t be, but is. Claiming you whole, claiming you fully. The tight ring clamping down around him with everything that it has, holding him in tight. Making sure he doesn’t move out now that he’s decided to make a home inside.
Your boyfriend is already moving.
His senses have narrowed into one single thing. The once scrambled nature of his brain resolving itself into one directive now that he’s finally achieved his goal.
Breed. Fill. Rut.
His hips piston with precision, making sure to only pull out an inch before thrusting back inside. Making sure that the head of his cock never leaves the sanctity of your womb. Making sure that you feel all of him, the way he’s always felt all of you.
His ears are pinned back, his tail shuttered close to his body. His nails gripping into one of your hips for purchase, the other pressing against your womb from the outside. Feeling his dick. Feeling him slide in and out of you in more ways than one.
You hazard a glance between your thighs– difficult in your position, but done regardless. Breath huffing as you spot the mess between your thighs, spot the imprint of his dick poking from outside of your belly.
Your pupils widen.
Before, you weren’t sure if you could handle it, but now… how you feel heat rising from deep inside of you. Your cheeks beginning to burn crimson, your mouth falling open in a helpless gasp.
Fuck, fuck you really didn’t think it would be possible for you to cum again today. Really didn’t think you would be able to with how much everything hurts, how much everything just feels too much.
But the line between pleasure and pain has always been a thin one, hasn’t it?
Your walls clench tightly around his cock, the orgasm coming on much too quickly. Faster than you ever thought possible with the onslaught.
“Fuck– Fuck– so good, pretty doe! So good!” He’s breathless, whining in your ear. Though he’s had longer to work up his high, it’s clear it’s coming soon, too. “‘S tight around me. S’ tight and good!!”
He’s pitchy, not caring about the noise. About sounding attractive. About anything other than cumming deep inside of your womb.
The hand on your stomach dips lower, his finger tips pressing against your clit. The tight bundle of nerves twitching against the digits, feeling red hot from overuse, yet still pleasurable in an almost twisted way.
Your eyes close, a band in your belly pulling tight. A ball of knots forming, cascading into a feeling you’ve never felt before. Never even conceived your body could feel.
“Cum cum cum cum cum.” His voice is chanting another phase now. Begging, pleading with you to just let loose one final time so he can pretend this last round wasn’t out of pure selfishness. Pure lust and desire. Like this whole thing has been about you, too.
He still wants to show you he cares.
That cord that winded up so quickly inside of you begs, pleads with your body to let it snap. To let your orgasm just wash over you. To let you enjoy the feeling of his jackhammering hips, of the tip of his cock leaking deep inside.
“Please! Cum and I promise I’ll get you pregnant! Promise!”
And somehow, you do. That final sentence, his whimpering, whining tone finally sending you over the edge. Cascading over the edge of a waterfall as all of your joints lock up tight. As a high pitched cry leaves your throat. As your cunt clenches around him entirely, fully. Fluttering around him as each wave wrecks your very soul.
His dam breaks due to you. Perfect, utterly perfect, you.
As you try to breathe, try to take air into your lungs you feel his cock twitching restlessly inside of you. Spurt after spurt of cum unloading from his cock directly into your helpless womb. Flooding you, filling you up completely. Utterly.
If you had any more pieces of your shattered mind gathered up in your arms, you might wonder how he still has any cum left. Maybe you’ll hazard at the thought later when your eyes aren’t going black. When spots aren’t invading your vision, your brain finally pulling you under a cloak of black.
It takes a full two minutes for Jeongguk to recuperate from his orgasm. For his brain to slowly slip back into place as his rut subsides enough for him to return to consciousness. His spent length finally softening fully for the first time since he had woken up that very morning.
“Mate..?” He slowly asks, pulling his hips back enough that he removes himself from your cervix, but not enough that he’s out of you fully– some part of the back of his brain telling him to keep his cock inside, to keep anything from slipping out.
He leans his head up, sniffing at your pulse point. Still strong, still with him. Just asleep. A pretty girl tired, too giving. Needing a rest after everything he put your pretty little body through.
He sighs, nuzzling in your throat for only a moment. Basking in the afterglow, in how much he loves you.
Where he was once rough with you, he’s gentle now. Slowly, delicately moving your body onto its side, forming your front into the shape of his chest as he takes his place beside you. One of his arms wrapping around your waist, keeping you close, the other hooking your leg around his hip, keeping his cock nestled deep.
Keeping you protected from anything, anyone that might want to harm you.
He knows that tomorrow, he’ll have a lot of work cut out for him. By the time he wakes up, his rut should have completely subsided. By the time you wake up, you’ll need all the aftercare and love one bunny boy can manage.
Humans are so fragile, after all. He knows he probably took it too far. Should’ve talked about it with you first, set hard limits before he tried to fuck his way into your womb. Should’ve set safewords and spoke in detail before he tried anything like that. Will apologise profusely tomorrow, do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t hate him.
But as you snuggle closer to him, your pretty little pussy sending a weak flutter down his soft cock, he finds himself a little less worried. A little less nervous because he knows you're his.
Your eyes flutter open blearily for a second, staring up at his soft, mushy face. Your irises swimming as they try to focus on him, try to recover even slightly.
“Hey.” You croak softly, your throat raw. Thirsty. Tired.
“Hey.” Is all he can manage to say back, entirely awestruck by everything you. Cheeks already pink from the attention, acting boyish and sweet. As if he didn’t commit like 5 of the cardinal sins moments prior.
You giggle slightly to yourself, and Jeongguk swears his heart skips a beat. Is unsure how anything revolves around anyone but you. Is sure you’re his soulmate. Is sure he’d rather be dead than be without you, the love of his life.
Then, you’re leaning forward and he swears you’re an angel. Your chapped lips are placing a kiss to the tip of his nose and he wants to bite you. Make you his mate fully and completely. Or maybe get down on one knee instead, propose and make you his in the human ways he’s seen on the tv.
“Are you back with me now?” You ask softly, an arm that weighs a million pounds rising up, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead before reaching the base of his ear, scratching it gently. The close of his eyes an automatic reply.
“Mmm” He nods, knowing his brain is slowly coming back to him. Making him less of a mindless creature, a slave to the incessant urges that held him captive.
He opens his eyes again, trying to convey the sincerity in his expression while his tone might fail him, “‘M sorry if I hurt you. ‘M… I’m just sorry.”
You quickly– well, as quickly as the tiredness in your limbs allow– shake your head, trying to dismiss his thoughts, “‘T’s okay,” You pause for a second, reaching up to cup his jaw in both of your hands, “Didn’t hurt me. …Well, hurt in the moment. And I’m sore now, too, but…”
He flinches slightly, looking away. You continue before he manages to get the chance to get in his head, “but I liked it, too. It.. it felt weird.. Weird but good, I think.”
His eyes widen, looking up at you with something akin to quiet revere. Like he would do anything for you. Like he would hang the stars in the sky, burn down the planet if it just meant he could see that bright little twinkle in your eye that he holds so dear.
“Not–” You attempt to stop any imperative ideas that might be leaking into his head, “--that I want to try again now. Or any time soon. But I didn’t hate it. Just– just we have to talk about it next time you want to try something like that.”
Bunny teeth are in front of you now, wide and bright as he finally lets go of any worry or self doubt that you might want to break up with him now. His head dipping forward, nipping at one of the love bites he left on your neck.
“I love you.” He mumbles sweet, cloying. Somehow tugging you closer to his form, somehow still managing to have some playful energy in him despite how exhausted you are.
You let out a giggle, weak arms pushing at his shoulders in a barely there protest to give you some space. “I love you too, Gguk.”
You don’t think you could ever hate him. Hell, you think you might’ve even liked it more than you would ever be willing to let on. Thrived under how desperate he was, how utterly infatuated he seemed to be, but… but maybe next time you’ll ask him to not take the 99.99% effectiveness of your birth control as a personal challenge.
Request (anon): Could you do a one-shot where Suga is a really clingy cuddler that gets really annoyed whenever you get up for something throughout the night? I love it when he’s grumpy but affectionate at the same time! SO PLZ PLZ PLZ MAKE IT FLUFFY BUT SPRINKLE IN A LITTLE BIT OF PETTINESS! Love you 💕
— Consider that shit #sprinkled sis.
Warning: a fair amount of cursing, mentions, but mostly for a comical effect. 99% fluff and much-frequent uwu’s ahead.
~Again, sorry about there not being a “read more” link. It doesn’t work for the mobile app… and ironically, my broke ass actually pawned my laptop off for a phone :)~
Request are open! Enjoy 💕
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Boa Constrictor— (Yoongi x Reader! )
You’ve always had a bad habit of drinking copious amounts of water just before going to bed every night, and for some reason, you always seem to forget that it’ll eventually lead to you having to wake up a few hours later with a dire need to pee.
And honestly, it really wouldn’t even be that bad— considering your bathroom is just 20 feet away from your side of the bed— if it didn’t take everything but a crowbar to pry yourself away from the clingy arms of your boyfriend. Because instead of simply allowing you slip away from his hold long enough to use the bathroom like any normal human being, his body snaps into the act of a fucking Boa Constrictor, instantly locking you in place and squeezing you within his vice-lip grip.
And as petty as it sounds, it’s actually the one thing the two of you argue about the most now; because not only has it become his biggest pet-peeve to have his sleep disturbed like this on a nightly basis, but he’ll sometimes wake up within the midst of him smothering you and purposely continue to do it as punishment for the inconvenience he’s reluctantly about to face of unwinding himself from the cozy position in which your bladder just ruined.
— the man sleeps like a rock though, so you’re never really sure wether or not he’s doing it on purpose. You usually just find out by him either letting you loose upon actually waking up or he’ll show no reaction and wait until you’re literally about to piss the bed before letting you go.
This time, it was roughly 2 am when the bottle of water you guzzled down just before 10 reached its time-capacity within your bladder; and upon waking up at the dire sensation, you found yourself to be in quite the predicament as your boyfriend was spooning to you from behind like a koala bear hanging on the branch of a tree— completely dead to the world around him. You groaned to yourself as you already knew this wouldn’t be easy, and just to prove yourself right, you scooted a few feet away closer to the edge only to have him sharply inhale at the disruption and automatically pull you right back against him on reflex.
“Yoongi, no,” you groggily groaned, not in the mood for another wrestling match. “Please don’t start.”
Sighing in agitation as you got no response, you twisted yourself around to face him with the intent to push him away of you, but it quickly backfired because he only took that as an opportunity to wrap his arms tight around your lower back and snuggle you even closer, with an ineligible “Mmph” in content.
A pout rose to your bottom lip as you couldn’t help but acknowledge just how soft that was, not wanting to rudely awaken him, but you had to do something as you knew you didn’t have much more time as it already felt like you had an overfilled water-balloon within your pelvis.
“Oh my God, please wake up.” You gently shook his shoulder, only to then become frantic in his hold as it became tighter and tighter, causing the pressure in your bladder to intensify even more. “YOONGI, DAMNIT, WAKE UP!”
“Hush,” He simply replied, eyelids not even flinching in response to you yelling directly in his face, and you growled out in exasperation and began fighting him off as you then knew he was fully aware of what he was doing.
“I’m gonna piss myself, let go!”
“You should’ve thought about that before you gulped down a fucking gallon of water right as we laid down to sleep. I’m tired of you doing this shit to me,” he stated, all the while unphased by your desperate antics for escape.
“What do you mean?! I’m the one who has to pee!”
“And who’s fault is tha— ah shi-bal!” He hissed out, naturally switching to his Korean tongue in response to you sharply plucking a tiny patch of hair away from the line of his scalp. His hand automaticallyflew up to rub at his forehead, granting you a moments past, and you took the chance to ninja-rolled off the bed before bolting towards the bathroom with your tail between your legs.
He continued going off in a bilingual tangent as you miraculously made it in time to the toilet, and the flood gates of heavenly relief was then graced upon you as you took care of business, not even sorry for what it took to reach such an accomplishment.
It took a solid 2 minutes for all the contents were empty from your system, and once you got done washing your hands and returned to the bedroom, you found Yoongi now rolled over and facing away from your side of the bed, with his arms crossed and shoulders squared like a grouchy old man— the silent treatment now in full swing.
You silently grinned at this, knowing it wasn’t going to last either way, being as can’t even stay away from you in his sleep. But you didn’t want to wait that long regardless, so you decided to crawl up next to him and hover over the side of his head, where you then became even more amused by the fact that his eyes were actually sealed shut, as if he was truly intending to fall sleep with such a pissed off look on his face.
Just to irritate him a little more, you gently blew it the short hair messily framing his temple, making his eyebrow twitch from where the tickled his face.
“Quit it,” he snapped, swatting his hand back at you like he would a pesky fly. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“How? I just had to pee!” You defended, tone voicing your absurdity. “I swear, this has gotten so ridiculous.”
“I agree; which is why I’m sleeping away from you for now on.”
You blinked at him in surprise, his words striking an unexpected nerve, and the tables turned as you then mimicked his position at the other side of the bed, with your backs now facing each other. You said nothing in response, but the simple action spoke volumes as Yoongi then spent the next 10 minutes considering the possibility that maybe he was being a little unfair with all the trouble he’s given you for simply having to pee sometime through the night. It’s just that he’s grown so possessive to the feel of your body that his first initial reaction is to latch on to it whenever you attempt to move away, thus triggering his petty attitude.
But you didn’t deserve that, you wasn’t doing anything wrong at all. And now he feels bad.
It didn’t take him much longer to give in to the guilt as he then scooted up behind you, and a hand landed on your shoulder before an apologetic kiss was placed on your temple.
“I was just kidding,” He sheepishly admitted, ignoring the smuggness that came over your face as he turned you over on your back. He didn’t have to say anything else after that, just simply craned his head up in a silent gesture for you to loop your arm around his neck, signaling you to coddled him while he draped himself on top of you and nestled the side of his face against the collarbone of your chest.
“That’s what I thought,” you teased, rubbing your thumb along the bale of his neck while the other hand lightly ran along his shoulder blade. “Did I hurt you earlier? I pulled out, like, 6 baby-hairs at once.”
“Uhm, yeah it fucking hurt,” he said in a bitter, duh-like tone. “It’s the tiniest ones that are the most sensitive.”
“Kind of like you.”
“I am not fucking tiny,” he arrogantly declared, causing laughter to echo throughout your chest as he contently draped himself across your torso like his own, personal body-pillow. “Now go to sleep, you little brat.”
“Fine,” you obliged, eyes steadily growing heavy from the coziness of the embrace. “Goodnight, drama queen.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Okay it’s like 3am and my ADD meds have worn off and I’m literally struggling to keep my eyes from crossing because of how sleepy I am myself lol. So and I hope I didn’t miss any spelling errors and that this is good enough to your satisfaction. I just didn’t want you to have to wait any longer! Thank you for this, anon!! 💜
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
⋆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!
Summary: You really try to ignore the less than platonic feelings that you have for your roommate but he hardly makes it easy when he stumbles into your room at three am asking for cuddles
Word Count: 2.1K
Tags: Insomnia, mild Angst, Yoongi x reader, roommate! au, Best friends to lovers, Hurt/comfort, Anxiety mention, Fluff
Authors Note: THIS IS A HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR MY FAVORITE TUMBLR BUT PEACHY 🍑 🍑 🍑 🍑 🍑 @peeachypop HAPPY 23 BIRTHDAY MY DUDE- I had a hard time choosing between Namjoon and Yoongi for you (and then I was like what if I did both Namjoon and Yoongi) but then this came to me in the depths of my jet lag so here you go .｡*ﾟ+.*.｡(❁´◡`❁)｡.｡:+*
ALSO WOW THIS IS A LITTLE AANGSTY JESUS
“Yoongi?” the sound of your bedroom door opening wakes you from your slumber. Not that you really mind; it’s either very late Saturday or early Sunday morning and there is still plenty of time to sleep. Which is why the appearance of your best friend and roommate Yoongi at your bedroom door is even more perplexing.
If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Yoongi, since you first became his friend all those years ago and moved in with him 6 months ago, it’s that the boy loves his sleep. Its one of the many reasons why you mesh well actually; most nights you’d both rather nap then go out. And the majority of the time the idea getting cozy on the couch to keep out the winter chill is a more than agreeable proposition in place of hanging out with each other. Sometimes you watch TV to distress, sometimes you talk, sometimes one of you falls asleep (on his shoulder, or him with his head in your lap) and the other pretends to watch the TV and shoves down the urge to run their hands through the other’s hair.
That’s always how you and Yoongi have been- friends with more than friends feelings for each other.
How well you get along Is one of the many reasons why he asked you to move in with him last summer when he finally decided to move out of the dorms with the boys (Not that he doesn’t still love them- it was just time for him to get his own place).
The lease on your apartment was up- and you where looking at a place on the other side of the city- an abhorrent distance that would make daily hangouts a chore if not non existent (and Yoongi didn’t want to lose you) so he looks at a 2 bedroom place and asks you to move in with him.
you always suspect he hides the actual price of rent from you- because there’s no way what little he asks of you is half the rent. The floor to ceiling windows in the nicer part of town do just a little to win you over, but in the end, it’s the proximity to your best friend that makes you agree.
You both mesh well together. And you’d be lying if you said your mind didn’t occasionally drift to ideas of how well you could get along if you were more than friends. But most of the time you care too much about your friendship to even consider perusing things further. Other times like when he invites you to one of his concerts or when he wears tight leather jackets- you have a harder time reigning in your overly imaginative heart.
Which is why you rub your eyes a second time. Letting out a second quiet “Yoongi- is that you?” when the pale man doesn’t move from the doorway. You clear your eyes leaning in to see him. And you notice his rumpled hair from tossing and turning. His baggy flannel pajamas hang off of him. His puffy eyes are accompanied by dark circles and the dark recess turning like the tide; full of too many emotions that you can’t decipher.
In that moment with you looking up at him- Yoongi knows he shouldn’t be here. Anything that puts your friendship in jeopardy shouldn’t happen. But he can’t bear this right now- and he needs someone- but he doesn’t want just anyone- he needs you.
“Yoongi, have you slept at all?” you ask. And he shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak just yet. You sit up Adjusting the large white tee shirt to not hang off your shoulders.
Occasionally Yoongi has insomnia. He doesn’t tell you much about it, and he’s usually sullen and snappy enough that you leave him alone until you’re sure the episode has passed knowing there’s little you can do to help him. He’s never come to you before like this.
“Do you want me to make you some tea to help you fall asleep?” you offer with a small smile. He shakes his head once, moving a little further into the room.
“Can I sleep with you?” he asks quietly. And it’s not like you both haven’t fallen asleep on each other a million times in front of the TV, but this, sleeping in a bed together, feels more and more like a boundary that shouldn’t be pushed. You inhale a jagged breath- and Yoongi knows what you’re gonna say before you say it.
“Yoongi I don’t know if that’s the best ide-“
“I know we’re just friends but please- I don’t think I can be alone right now and I think I-“ I need someone to hold me he wants to say but the words are caught in his throat and Yoongi can’t finish the sentence. to you his voice usually so controlled sounds raw and untethered. Yoongi certainly looks astray- where he shifts uneasily from foot to foot like he might bolt in a second if you say the wrong thing.
It was so stupid of him to ask this he thinks to himself- he should just go back to his own room before you reject him further. You just rub your eyes blearily for a second- then finally drag back your duvet and scoot over to make a space for him in your bed next to you.
He climbs into bed quickly- worried that you’ll turn him away. Your messed up hair sticks up in tufts, mused from tossing in your sleep. He never thought he’d get to see you like this, but right now the fact that he feels like he’s seconds away from shattering is keeping him from enjoying it. His bare feet are cold against your ankles as you scoot closer to him wrapping an arm around his cold middle. It’s the middle of winter, and the cold presses in with sharp hands.
Normally this wouldn’t be bold, but in the darkness, it feels like it is. Yoongi is suddenly very glad that your eyes are closed- you don’t see him flush as you snuggle closer to his chest.
“Now,” your soft voice says against the fabric of his flannel pajama shirt. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up?” with anyone else the casualness would bother him, piss him off actually, but you make him want to spill all his secrets with just a simple “what’s up.”
Any other time he would lie and say nothing. But the slow treacherous pace of your hands smoothing up and down his back disarm him. “I got anxious,” he says softly. Your hands still on his back- and suddenly you feel wide awake- you’re suddenly aware of the fact that Yoongi is shaking slightly, his hands fisted in the back of your shirt as he trembles.
If there’s one thing you rarely talk about- it’s your emotions. You’re aware that Yoongi has struggled with depression and anxiety but you had no idea that was why he couldn’t sleep sometimes. The condition of your silence seemed imperative on keeping each other just far enough away to discourage romantic feelings. This, by comparison, feels raw and like those boundaries never existed at all.
“What about?” you prod gently, aware that the peace right now is tenuous. The breath he lets out is uneven and uncertain.
“Everything just builds sometimes- stress from writing songs, getting them out on time, making them perfect, being perfect, practice, sometimes I feel like I’m so stressed that the smile’s going to slide right off my face in the middle of a concert or fan sign and I’m going to ruin it all- or I’m going to fuck up the choreography- or be so busy worrying about something else that I forget a line or-“
“Yoongi” you interrupt and he waits for you to tell him that you don’t want to hear it- that you just want to sleep- that he should go because you changed your mind. But you just pull him closer and move your hands up too his hair, running them through the tangled mess and smoothing it down before rubbing your nails up against his skull. The action sends delightful shivers down his back- relaxing him, he stops shaking.
“You’re one of the best performers and producers in the world. I don’t think any amount of mistakes in the world could destroy that. You can’t take away creative talent like that.”
“You think I’m talented?” most day’s Yoongi wouldn’t even question a statement like that- but tonight, with his emotions so raw and His self-esteem teetering on the edge of a depressive low- those words are exactly what he needs to hear.
“Of course I do.” You say softly holding him a little tighter. His feet aren’t cold anymore- and he’s filled the bed with the soft warmness that you get from snuggling another person- something that neither of you has gotten in so long. And on this cold night- it’s exactly what the doctor ordered.
“Sometimes I think I’m too sad to be a rapper- if I’m not feeling normally like everyone else how can they relate to what I’m saying?”
“I think that’s exactly why your lyrics- your writing is so important Yoongi. You give the people a voice who have none.”
“But no one else talks about it.”
“But they should and you’re brave enough too. You have no idea how much I admire you for that Yoongi. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”
In the darkness of your bedroom Wrapped up in your arms. Yoongi feels anything but brave. But your words have done enough to pop his jarred pieces back into place. And right now- that’s enough to make him feel truly steady for the first time in days.
You go quiet as Yoongi pulls you in tighter. Holding onto you like he has no intention of ever letting you go. You listen until his uneven breathing has turned steady- before you finally let yourself drift off as well.
In the morning- when you wake you’re so deliciously warm that immediately you don’t realize what- or more accurately- who you’re currently lying on top of. You’re barely cognizant enough to realize who’s hands are running through your hair and who’s soft voice you hear, barely a grumble in the quiet morning.
You feel his voice two fold Once from your ear pressed to his chest- and again as they’re said in the open.
“Sometimes I wonder how you can get me so easily.” he swallows and continues softer. “With other people, it feels like I’m speaking gibberish whenever I talk about my emotions. But you’re the first person who’s ever understood me like this. It makes me want to love you in ways I’m sure you’d be uncomfortable with.”
You fight to make yourself still pliant, to not seize up when you hear the words love- and somehow Yoongi doesn’t notice- though your heart is beating too fast, your breath too loud.
“But I’m ok with just this- I’d be ok with whatever you gave me because you’ll always be enough for me.” His hand never stills on its course- rubbing back and forth over your back and head. And in that moment- you’re so comfortable that you let sleep pull you down again. Your Heart beats erratically with the thought that he loves me he loves me he loves me.
When Yoongi wakes up alone- but he’s a little too warm to think that he’s been alone for long. Your spot next to him is still a little warm. And his chest still flutters with that almost giddy feeling of having you near. He hears soft noises from the kitchen and stumbles out to see you fumbling with his fancy coffee maker (one that Jin bought him ages ago so that he didn’t spend so much money on lattes).
You smile at him- still ruffled in your white shirt and velvet sleep shorts. “Good morning!” You say cheerily, Yoongi grumbles- his words still not working so early, his mind tangled from a few hours of sleep. He twines his arms around your middle and hooks his chin over the side of your shoulder as you continue to fiddle with the steamer.
Yup- the blush that covers your cheeks is totally normal for roommates to have.
“You stole my personal space heater,” he mumbles by way of a good morning. He can hear the smile in your words.
“Sorry- coffee calls” he opens his eyes at that, staring down at the latte you’re working on- there’s another cup next to you that you’ve obviously tried to hide but he can see it clearly now that he can see in front of you.
“Is that? For me?” he asks softly- because sitting there on the counter is a lattee- he can tell by the smell that it’s made just the way he likes. But what makes him flush isn’t that you’ve simply made it for him. It’s the heart drawn in chocolate syrup on the top.
The flush that covers his cheeks is defiantly platonic? Right?
your ex-husband is and was always in love, he just couldn’t properly expresss it. it comes to him too late, and he respects your wishes and agrees to the divorce; then you tell him you’re pregnant.
ex-husband taehyung still wears his wedding ring even after signing the papers. he tells himself it’s out of habit, but the way his thumb rubs over the band whenever he thinks of you says otherwise.
ex-husband taehyung never changes the passcode to the penthouse because it was your birthday. even after you move out, he still punches in those six familiar digits like a prayer.
ex-husband taehyung doesn’t touch the empty side of the bed. he sleeps stiff and angled, convinced the lingering warmth of your absence is the only part of you he still has permission to hold.
ex-husband taehyung rehearses conversations with you in the mirror, but always forgets the words when he sees you in person. he’s still trying to figure out how to say i’ve loved you the whole time without it sounding like too little, too late.
ex-husband taehyung finds out you’re pregnant from a voicemail. your voice is shaking, soft and steady like you rehearsed it a hundred times, but you hang up before the message is even complete. he listens to it twelve times that night. then he drives to your place and falls asleep in his car out front, just in case you want to talk.
ex-husband taehyung buys a small speaker and starts playing classical music against your belly. he doesn’t say why, just sits cross legged on the floor next to the couch while you nap, the soft sounds of violins floating between you like lullabies. sometimes, he hums along. and when your daughter kicks for the first time, she does it to the sound of his voice.
ex-husband taehyung starts holding your belly to ease the pressure on your back, it’s practical at first. his hands slide under your bump while you brush your teeth or stand too long in line, gently lifting and supporting. “i’ve got you,” he murmurs, grinning secretly into your hair as you sag against his chest with a groan.
ex-husband taehyung doesn’t let go of your hand once. not through the contractions, not through the screaming, not through the panicked moment when the nurse mentions an emergency c-section might be necessary. he’s there, foreheads pressed together, breath matching yours, his voice low and trembling as he repeats, “you’re okay, no matter what happens, i’ve got you.”
ex-husband taehyung never sleeps that first night. you’re sleeping from exhaustion, but he holds each baby like they’re stitched from gold thread, whispering apologies they won’t understand yet—i’m sorry i wasn’t softer, i’m sorry she didn’t know, i’m sorry it took this. then he kisses the tops of their heads and murmurs, but i love you. so much. and i love her too. still.
ex-husband taehyung learns to swaddle from a YouTube video at three in the morning, using one of the nurses’ clipboards as a makeshift changing table. when he finally gets it right, he lifts your daughter like a treasure and says, “there we go, sweetheart. appa’s got you,” with a smile that still aches around the edges.
ex-husband taehyung holds your hair back when the postpartum nausea kicks in. he wipes your mouth with a warm cloth. he rubs your back in slow, grounding circles. when you cry over nothing and everything, he says, “let it out, jagi.” and when you whisper, “i don’t think i’m strong enough for this,” he kisses your hand and replies, “then we’ll be weak together.”
ex-husband taehyung calls you every night he’s not there. asks if you’ve eaten, if you’ve slept, if you’re drinking enough water. when you tell him the babies are fussy and you’re too tired to shower, he shows up thirty minutes later with dinner, your favorite almond body wash, and fresh towels. “you take the first half of the night,” he says, already lifting your son from the bassinet. “i’ve got the second.”
ex-husband taehyung starts wearing the baby carrier everywhere. grocery store? baby on his chest. walking the dog? baby on his chest. brunch with his mother? both babies, one on his chest, one in a stroller, as he calmly explains the difference between breastmilk storage bags and formula. you watch him from the doorway and wonder how you ever thought this man didn’t love you.
ex-husband taehyung falls asleep on the couch with the twins tucked into his arms like they’ve always belonged there; your heart aches watching them. and when he stirs with bleary eyes, voice rough, he says, “you can come lay with us, if you want.” like he’s inviting you back into something you never really left.
ex-husband taehyung takes the twins to the park every sunday so you can have a moment to yourself. he packs snacks, wipes, toys, a change of clothes, even your daughter’s emergency glitter wand. when he sends you videos, it’s always your son stomping puddles in his little rain boots and taehyung’s laugh trailing behind like sunlight.
ex-husband taehyung always waits in the entryway during drop offs. even when it’s a hectic day, or he’s running late. you asked why and he shrugged, eyes tender. “i like watching you say goodbye to them. it makes them feel safe.” what he didn’t say was, it makes him feel safe, too.
ex-husband taehyung asked if he could come with you to the twins’ first day of preschool. he waited downstairs for you in front of your apartment with your favorite chai latte and a bouquet of the same flowers he got on your first anniversary. neither of you said anything about that.
ex-husband taehyung never raises his voice in front of the twins. not even when they draw on the walls with crayons or pour orange juice into his shoe “to make it smell better.” instead, he crouches to their level, eyes gentle, and says, “let’s clean it together, okay?” like patience is stitched into his DNA.
ex-husband taehyung is the first to notice when you’re overwhelmed. a glance, a sigh, a slight slouch in your shoulders; he sees it all. and when you whisper “i’m okay,” he simply nods, picks up both toddlers with ease, and murmurs, “go take a bath. i’ve got them.” he always does.
ex-husband taehyung barely looks up when you ask if he’s planning to start dating soon. “no,” he says quickly, too quickly, brushing it off with a shrug. “i don’t want to confuse them.” but then there’s a pause, just a second too long, and his voice goes quieter when he asks, “are you?”
ex-husband taehyung doesn’t ask to stay the night anymore. he just… never really leaves. his toothbrush finds its way into your bathroom. his cologne sits quietly beside your perfume. the twins start asking why appa always comes back after he leaves, and neither of you really have an answer.
ex-husband taehyung confesses on a tuesday. not with a huge gesture, just over grilled mackerel and kimchi stew at the kitchen table, the twins snoring softly in the next room. “i think…” he says, staring at his bowl, “i was in love with you even when we were strangers. i just didn’t know how to say it without hurting you.”
ex-husband taehyung kisses you like he’s making up for every day he didn’t. slowly with both hands cradling your jaw like you’re fragile and a goddess and entirely his. and when you whisper, “maybe we don’t need the papers this time,” he smiles like it’s the first day of spring.
ex-husband taehyung still introduces you as the mother of my children when you’re out. even after he moves back in. even after you’ve started wearing his shirts to bed again. it’s not until your daughter blurts out, “eomma and appa kiss now,” to her teacher that you realize you’ve become his person again.
ex-husband taehyung buys a new ring. simple, elegant, no fanfare. he slips it onto your finger one night while you’re folding laundry, as if he’s just remembering something that’s always been true. “no grand ceremony,” he says, voice low. “just us. just this. forever, if you’ll let me.”
“Just stay here for me, okay Yoongi?” The hybrid nodded, even if he was still shivering slightly. He’d freaked out seeing where they were parked, crying about her adopting someone else.
His emotional reaction had tugged at (Y/N)’s heartstrings to no end. She was starting to second guess her decision, but it was the right thing to do.
“Be back soon.” Yoongi nodded, still sniffling slightly as he curled up in the car seat, letting her climb out and close the door gently behind her.
The shelter still smelt strongly of disinfectant. He’d complained about the smell one night to her, humming about how glad he was he would never have to spend another night there. The thought of him finding out how he was wrong was heartbreaking, yet (Y/N) pushed on, right up to the reception desk where the same kind faced volunteer was typing away.
“Hi?” She spoke up timidly. The young woman glanced up, beaming.
“Ah, Miss (L/N)! Just in time! I was going to call you to ask how you two were getting along. Is Yoongi settling in alright?”
“Well, that’s the thing. Yoongi doesn’t seem to be very… comfortable.” (Y/N) posited, fidgeting slightly. “He got in a fight with one of the neighbour’s hybrids about a week ago. Left him quite injured. And I don’t want to risk such an incident recurring.”
That was the best way to describe the incident. She’d left Yoongi with her neighbour’s fellow cat hybrid whilst she had a cup of coffee and a catch up with him, only to hear a loud ruckus a few minutes later and discover the two in a serious scuffle, both ending up with serious scratches on their arms. When she’d taken Yoongi home, apologising to her neighbour profusely all the while, she interrogated him on why he did it, only to have her reprimands shrugged off as Yoongi chose instead to weep about how he felt so lonely whenever she wasn’t in the room.
That’s not to say that Yoongi was a demonic hybrid. Compared to the horror stories she’d heard from her friends about hybrids attacking their owners or destroying their homes, Yoongi was practically a saint. He provided pleasant company, always happy to curl up with her as she talked about her day or laying his head on her lap so that she would scratch behind his ears in a way that made him practically purr in delight. But the bad moments stood out more than the positive ones, and (Y/N) wasn’t sure she could cope with the irregularity of his moods.
All in all, he was nearly the perfect companion. But she didn’t want to give up her friendship with her neighbour, and the fear that she couldn’t provide enough emotional support was pushing her to help him find a new owner.
“Really? He never showed that kind of behaviour with his previous family. Are you sure it wasn’t just a simple disagreement that escalated on both sides?” The receptionist frowned, her hand resting on the computer mouse.
“There was another occasion. He attacked a human yesterday. My brother.”
Like the last time, she had no idea what happened. Her brother had just dropped by to greet her as he was in town, but when she’d gone to get him a glass of water, she heard them talking. All of a sudden she heard a yelp, as if someone was in pain, and when she returned her brother was halfway out the door.
“Get that mutt of yours put down. He’s no good.” Was all he said before slamming the door in her face. She’d tried to pry what happened out of Yoongi, but once again he cried to her about being unloved. Rather than feeling pity for his feelings, she felt irritated beyond all else that he was refusing to take the blame for wounding her brother.
Ultimately, to (Y/N) blood was thicker than water, which led her to the adoption center to see about relocating Yoongi.
“I see. We’ll have him assessed to see if he’s a threat to any other humans, and I’m very sorry that happened to your family. Did you bring him here with you?” The receptionist finally started to tap away at her computer, leaving (Y/N) with a bittersweet feeling.
“Yes. He’s in the car.”
“Okay. If you want to say goodbye and bring him in here? And if you ever miss him you can always call us and we’ll tell you how he’s doing.” The young woman gave (Y/N) a kind smile.
Each step felt like she was wading through glue. She was scared about what would happen, about how Yoongi would feel. No doubt, he wouldn’t react well to the news considering how just being in the area of his old accommodation was enough to trigger a meltdown.
“Yoongi? How are you feeling?” She slid into the driver’s seat. He lifted his head briefly to meet her eyes.
“Who were you talking to?” He asked, cocking his head to one side. A seemingly innocent question sent shivers down her spine, though she wasn’t sure why. Yoongi was good, he just didn’t get along with the people around her right?
“There’s someone who wants to check up on you. You need to come inside the building with me, okay?” The little white lie hurt to say, as she held out her hand for him to take. Yoongi looked apprehensive, but when she gave him a nod of encouragement he reached out to take it.
She would miss the way his warm hand felt curled around hers. Especially when, late into the evenings when he thought she was asleep, he’d snuggle his cheek into her hand for comfort, falling asleep quickly in her hold.
Yoongi was becoming more tense as they entered, wincing at the strong smell and pressing his face into her shoulder, as he’d done a few times when there was strong thunder and lightning.
She made eye contact with the receptionist, to let her know she should get a keeper to help take him away.
“Yoongi, you’re a very good boy aren’t you?” She said softly, feeling him nod as he stayed clung to her back.
“The people here are going to take good care of you, aren’t they? I want you to stay strong for me.”
He froze.
“What do you mean? (Y/N), you’ll stay with me whilst they help me right?” Yoongi’s breathing was getting heavier, his eyes widening in terror.
(Y/N) didn’t reply, wanting nothing more than to keep lying but not having the guts to do so.
“I don’t want to stay here. Please, can’t we go home? I’m a good boy, I swear!” It was just as bad as she expected. Luckily, two of the keepers had arrived just in time.
The second Yoongi was separated from (Y/N) by another human, he became fully hysterical.
“Let go of me! No! Don’t you dare take me away from her!” He cried out, thrashing against the hold of the keepers.
“He’ll be absolutely fine, Miss. No need to worry.” One of the keepers panted, trying their best to keep the now feral Yoongi, who was hissing and scratching at them.
(Y/N) turned her back on the chaos, trying not to feel guilty as she heard the cries grow fainter and fainter.
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
By the position of the moon in the night sky, Yoongi could tell it had hit midnight. He’d spent the afternoon and most of the evening pacing his room, with the same old white walls and tiny window. He’d tried to break the glass, but his hands were no match for the triple glazed glass.
But the heartache he felt from losing (Y/N) was worse than any pain some bruised knuckles could cause. He’d been scared that he was pushing it. The first few times that he played the victim after lashing out, she seemed to forgive him. But it was her brother that had been the straw that broke the camel’s back - all Yoongi had done was try to suggest that her brother shouldn’t return to their apartment as he clearly wasn’t needed, and (Y/N)’s sibling had been completely unreasonable in rejecting the idea. But when he’d tried gaining her sympathy after the matter, she evidently didn’t believe him, thus he was dumped.
Even if he’d initially been angry at (Y/N) for leaving him, that emotion didn’t stick around for long. The sick “love” he’d developed for her triumphed anything she could ever do. He had to be by her side, to protect her from any man that might try to corrupt her - that was his new purpose in life, and there was no way he could let the pound keep him from that.
With newfound will, he slammed his body into the door of his room. The lock rattled, but didn’t budge. He slammed into it again, and then a final time to see the bolt shattering.
Yoongi didn’t even wait to catch his breath, hurrying through the halls with nimble feet and light breath. Even in his tantrum earlier he’d been taking in the layout of the building, so he could find his way back.
Fortunately, this paid off as he was able to get to the reception, meaning he was so close he could practically feel the warmth of (Y/N)’s bed again. Unfortunately, he was not alone. There was a security guard at the reception desk, yawning and sipping a piping cup of coffee. When he saw the escaping hybrid he reached for something on his belt only for Yoongi to pounce first, knocking him to the ground. The frustration inside Yoongi built up, this man being the sole obstacle in his journey to find (Y/N), and before he knew quite what he was doing his sharp fingernails had tore the guard’s throat out, leaving him to choke on his own blood.
Seeing the pathetic human reaching for a phone, presumably to call the other security guard for help, Yoongi snatched it far out of reach and crushed the guard’s hand underneath his foot with a satisfying crunch. As a final gesture Yoongi spat on him, smirked, and snatched up the keys.
Once he was outside, locking the door behind him, Yoongi was elated. He just had to find a way back to his home, and even if his head was too messed up to think of the directions, his heart could guide the way. Navigating the dark city streets, ducking into corners when he saw people knowing that he could be busted at any second, all whilst racking his brains for the directions to the apartment. If only he’d left the comfort of home more often, he wouldn’t be in such a tough situation.
Finally, he started to recognise the area he was in. Even better, he was starting to pick up her scent, until finally he found himself outside of their apartment block.
He knew where he was now, and he couldn’t help but to dash up the stairs, not caring about the noise, until he found her apartment. There, after trying the doorknob only to find it locked, he rapped on the door continuously, until finally it opened for him.
He launched himself into (Y/N)’s arms upon seeing her, leading to her stumbling back in shock and ending up on the floor. Yoongi just laughed in delight.
“I’ve missed you so much, (Y/N). Never let them take me like that again, okay?”
warnings: mature themes, obsessive & unhealthy behavior, manipulation, paranormal themes, violent themes, major character death. ( TW: mentions of suicide)
word count: 11.8k
Based on the Halloween Classic; Casper
Synopsis: When you’re forced to move back in with your father after failing to find a stable job , you’re more than unsettled with the foreign and creepy place he has bought. Your anxiety only seems to worsen when you start to suspect the old house is haunted. But when your suspicions are confirmed , it seems like the spirit that inhabits your home isn’t terrifying at all. In fact, he’s rather friendly. A bit too friendly
AN; hey guys so we are going to pretend i posted this on halloween for the sake of my mental health🤠 on a serious note though , i had a family emergncy & a pretty shitty halloween so that was why my last two halloween fics were so delayed. im really sorry! but i hope everyone had a happy halloween ! hope you enjoy regardless! :)🎃🎃
“Dad you could of bothered to at least hide the key somewhere I could find it.” You grumbled into the phone as you took a look at the poorly painted teal color door. The ‘Welcome’ sign that hung from it was anything but inviting.
Your father had done a decent job at carving a large pumpkin that stood right at the doorstep of the home but it looked rather sad. You supposed the bad shape of the house added to the appeal of the current Halloween season but it would soon wear off . Your shoes crunched against the dried up leaves that covered the floor of the porch .
“I told you it’s there, I put it under the welcome carpet!” You rolled your eyes as you stared at the dirty thing, there was certainly no key under there. You had checked a good three times already and practically torn apart a gardening pot he had on the side too in search for it.
“Well looks you have early-onset Alzheimer’s because there’s nothing here.”
You hear him let out a sigh.
“Just wait there, I’ll be home in about 10 minutes.”
The line went dead and you stood there waiting for your father’s car to pull up in the driveway.
You were in a sour mood to say the least, you had just graduated college with a degree in communications and while you would admit it wasn’t the most impressive major , it had been for you. You were finally relieved to have finished school, only for you to fail to find a decent job. You had been applying to loads of different marketing jobs, even social media manager applications and nothing.
These were quite simple jobs, right? Even more so with a literal degree but somewhere nobody seemed to be interested in hiring you. You blamed it on the fact that you didn’t have much experience since you had just graduated a few months ago but it was just what you talked yourself into to make yourself feel better and not like a complete failure.
Your dad’s way of comforting you had been to convince you to move back in with him while you got yourself back on your own two feet. You hated it.
You were supposed to be the successful independent woman you imagined yourself to be at the age of 24 but now you had come scurrying back home to live with your dad like some teenager again.
Hellooo! I was wondering if I could request a Jungkook oneshot in which he takes care of his s/o who has a fever and is fussy about taking her medicine :)) thank youu
fussy
warnings: yandere behavior, profanity, restraints
a/n: hi!! this is my first request, so i hope i answered it well enough. please tell me what you think as i am not super happy with how it turned out :)
i find it super ironic how i got this request on a day where i am actually home sick hahaha what a coincidence.
The cuffs bit into your skin, cutting off your movement as you tried to reach for another tissue. Yes, the bastard had cuffed you to the bed after you’d refused to stay under the covers.
You knew that Jungkook would baby you to the point of spoon-feeding if he found out that you were sick, so you’d tried to hide it from him. However, the man could read you like a book, and in no time he’d figured it out.
summary: Your new customer is a surly cat shifter battling insomnia. [professional cuddler!au, Cat!Yoongi]
rating: gen.
genre: fluff, shifter au, drabble
length: 2.6k
a/n: because this is the first part and has a larger sequel, I’m going to list it under series instead of drabbles. :) cat cuddles with yoongi returns~
You shuffled quickly over to your bedside table and blew out the tiny flame, breathing in the smell of evergreen and sandalwood before waving away the small curls of smoke that rose from the wicks. You then surveyed the room for any more pre-customer checklist items, but the apartment looked spick and span. You’d chosen a mellow color scheme for your walls and furniture after leaving on-campus housing–a blend of soft gray, white, and sage green– and you’d already received several assurances from regulars that the space felt as calm and cozy as the last. Even better than the old one.
You hoped so, because your newest customer would be arriving any minute and the answers he’d given in the profile suggested he’d been be a high-maintence one.
Along with a list of one-word responses and neatly marked responses on the preference sheet, Min Yoongi had requested the option to choose the couch or the bed after he had arrived and seen the place, had blocked off four hours of time, and had asked that you shower within two hours of his appointment (a normal request for a shifter customer but with his time slot, it meant you’d lose the entire afternoon for anything else). So you’d showered and blow-dried your hair after returning from class, left off all makeup and perfumes (you’d even used a shampoo and conditioner set designed for shifters, with very faint smells and free from chemicals), and put on your softest sweater and lounge pants. All this after cleaning the apartment from top to bottom and washing the thick quilted throw that you’d folded onto the couch.
summary: Maybe running away from your hybrids wasn't a good idea.
or,
Y/N leaves her family home to go UNI, leaving behind six hybrids. Leaving a second time is proving to be nearly impossible.
warnings: this series will deal with body image issues, toxic relationships, family issues, sexual themes, Non-con, possible rape, abusive themes and more. If that isn't your cup of tea please continue scrolling.
Authors note: yet another story. This one i have been posting on my ao3 account! feel free to sus it out there as well at King_myg
As always, my stories follow dark themes so if this is something you aren't comfortable with I suggest looking elsewhere :) Enjoy! feedback is always appreciated.
Hybrids had been commonplace in your youth, growing up with five in your home before you turned 16. Hybrids had become a hot commodity two years after your birth, being revealed to the public after years, and years, of perfection. It took roughly a year before the hybrid trend caught on, with celebrities and other wealthy people sparking the trend, you didn’t doubt now that they had been paid to promote the latest species added to the planet, and like always, it worked. Your parents were slow to fall into the trend considering their status, purchasing a hybrid a few years older than their eldest child when you turned 10, a male Sea Otter named Seokjin. Your parents were enamored by the male, raising the new addition almost as a son. There was always an invisible line, something everyone knew not to cross when it came to the relationship between human and hybrid, while Seokjin, or Jinnie as your parents had called him, seemed content with the care, you never understood it. His presence was confusing, his creation baffling. You found it hard to connect, and not just because of the 6-year difference in age. Hybrids were created to get along with anyone of any age, and while he had tried his best to be friendly and form a friendship with you, it always fell flat. Your parents loved having Seokjin around, he was helpful toward your mother, doing all the things you and your siblings refused to do. He joined her on shopping trips, and coffee trips and kept her company in salons. Meanwhile, he kept your father company with his outdoorsy activities your brother had never taken an interest in. Seokjin was always thrilled to join your father for early-hour fishing trips hours away, and it seemed to be something they genuinely bonded over.
For your brother's 16th birthday, he had requested a hybrid of his own, and your parents happily obliged, thrilled that your brother had taken an interest. The month before his actual birthday they had taken him into the city to pick his very own hybrid. The process would take some time, so they had tried to get onto it as quickly as possible so that the hybrid would be home by the time his birthday hit. There were a million and one steps to the adoption process, they checked income and work status, looked at your homes, interviewed all household occupants, and made sure any other hybrids in the home were well cared for and open to sharing their ‘territory’. You were sure most adoption centers weren’t as thorough, but your parents were always keen to go about things the right way, especially when their children's well-being came into play.
Exactly 1 month and 2 weeks later, the afternoon before your brother's birthday, the trio returned with the newest addition to the household (or 'family' as your parents had proudly announced!) Jiho, your brother, had introduced his hybrid Hoseok, a ferret the same age as him. Jiho and Hoseok had become incredibly close in the year they had spent one-on-one. They had similar personalities, bright and bubbly, and enjoyed a few of the same hobbies. It was around the time of your sister's sixteenth birthday the following year when she had requested 2 hybrids. She got along well with Seokjin, and Hoseok, but rarely got to spend time with the latter your brother not wanting to share his gift, often gloating. Following the same steps as they had with your brother, this time starting earlier due to your sister's pickiness, the hunt for your sister's lifelong companions commenced. Eventually, she settled on two from the same adoption center, which made the process much easier on your parents. By this point your parents had pulled back from their parental duties, starting to enjoy their retirement. They had run their own business for longer than you could remember, they had made more money than you could ever spend and they decided it was time to take a break. With your brother only a year off of adulthood, and two hybrids of similar ages to Jiho, your parents were more than happy to entrust their daughters' safety to the three– soon to be five– men.
Your sister had proudly shown off her hybrids, claiming to have gotten the most handsome ones ever. While you were sure that wasn’t entirely true, even you as a child could agree that your sister had picked two very attractive boys. Jiyoo, your sister, had ended up picking Jimin, a Swift Fox, something you hadn’t heard of, and Taehyung, a coyote. They were polite, shy men who had playful personalities once they settled in. They garnered plenty of attention from Jiyoo’s school friends, the mass of young teen girls that had started amassing your home had been overwhelming. Jiho had quickly become jealous of Jiyoo and demanded a second hybrid only weeks after her birthday. It didn’t take much convincing from your parents, who agreed that if Jiyoo could have two, why couldn’t Jiho? Lucky for Jiho, his previous adoption made the process much quicker when it came to bringing home his next hybrid. The entire thing took roughly two weeks, and suddenly the fifth hybrid was home, another male of the same age as Jiho, a dingo named Namjoon. After Namjoon's arrival, life had settled into an easy flow. Your parents' presence was always coming and going, but their constant calls and messages filled some of the holes in their absence.
Over the next four years you had noticed your siblings coming and going attention to their hybrids, proudly showing them off to friends and online, but behind closed doors, their frustration had built up. Annoyance with their clinginess, the constant need to be near was beginning to be more of a nuisance to your siblings. They were careful to hide their growing frustrations from their parents whenever they returned home, always showing off new talents and changes to their appearances, piercings, or haircuts they had recently gotten. You had kept your distance from anything hybrid-related as much as you could, and whilst it had taken some time for them to catch on to your carefully planned avoidance, they eventually caught on and left you alone. The only hybrid you had actively sought out and spent any time with had been Namjoon. Your ‘friendship’, if you could even call it that, had formed after you were caught struggling with a school assignment. Namjoon had asked to take a look and was quick to help you out with what seemed to be a never-ending supply of knowledge. From then on, all your homework and assignments were completed with Namjoon close by whenever your brother and Hoseok went to tennis. Whilst it wasn't a close relationship, you were content in the dingo hybrid presence, often forgetting he wasn’t just your brother's friend from school, but an actual hybrid.
As your 16th approached, your siblings grew excited, and curious about what kind of hybrid you would choose. The three of you weren’t very close, always some kind of divide had existed between you all, stopping any kind of sibling bond from forming. You weren’t too bitter about it, you found their personalities far from pleasant. You had tried your best to explain to your parents that you didn't want or need a hybrid, you had never expressed any interest in one, so why would you suddenly change your mind? When pestered about gifts, you had given a list of what you wanted, and perhaps you should have been more specific with your words. You had been an animal lover, something that was still popular among the middle to lower class. You had always wanted a cat, just a regular house cat like your school friends had. You should have assumed your parents were only skimming over your list, maybe you should have just waited until they were home before you requested a pet.
You were uneasy when you came home from a friend's day out to celebrate your birthday to find your siblings excitedly waving you over.
“Y/n, you said you weren’t getting one!” your brother grinned, knocking your shoulder as if you had told a joke.
Your blank face must've been enough for your eldest sibling to catch on to your lack of understanding. He had rolled his eyes, your sister cutting him off once he reopened his mouth, she was quick to tell you to go to your room to see the ‘surprise’ your parents had dropped off. The giddiness in her words had your chest constricting, but you did as told despite every cell in your body screaming to turn around. Your bedroom door had been left ajar, already a red flag. Your door was always left shut. Using the tips of your fingers you pushed your door open, a breath you weren’t aware to had been holding fell past your lips as you stepped into your room, empty.
At least you had thought it was.
You had walked further into your room, tossing your backpack onto your bed as you eyed over everything. Not a single thing looked to be out of place. All the anxiety that had built up in your body when you ascended the stairs had melted out of you, relief washing over you far too early. The click of your door behind you falling shut behind you had you tense back up, your brain had refused to let you turn around to face whoever (whatever) was behind you.
“Do you have no survival instincts at all, Master?” The last word fell out harsher, almost as if the word had been spat onto the hardwood of your floor.
Your jaw clenched, irked at the attitude of the man who broke into your room. You turned on your heel, arms crossed over your chest. The male in front of you looked roughly your age, your parents keeping to the theme. He was taller than you, small-framed, and soft-faced. His hair was short and dark, complimenting his honey skin. He looked at you with annoyance, like you had intruded into his own home. His eyes were a striking blue, standing out vibrantly against the dark color of his hair, and he stared at you so coldly that you felt like your skin was trying to peel itself away to hide.
The male opened his lips once more but was quickly cut off by your brother and sister barging into the room, the door barely missing the stranger in your room. His jaw clenched, his gaze staying glued on you as your siblings invaded your space more than it already had been.
“Surprise! Isn’t he such a cutie?” Jiyoo cooed, looking the younger male over with a grin. “He was dropped off this afternoon, dad had it all arranged, but Mom picked him out for you! A black cat, right?”
A choked sound left the hybrid's throat, his eyes narrowing in on your sister. “Leopard.” He corrected, his eyebrow twitching in what you assumed was annoyance.
Jiyoo sent him a nasty look, her lips pursed as she looked the boy over. “Cat ears, cat tail..” She trailed off, before crossing her arms. “Pretty sure you fall under the cat category, kid.”
Your sister's words seemed to have snapped something in the hybrid, his eyes hardening in silent rage. Despite the look that made you want to melt between the cracks of your floorboards, your sister stood her ground, a smug smirk on her lips. A perfectly plucked brow quirked up, as if silently taunting the boy, ‘What are you gonna do?’
This day had seemed to spark a lifelong feud between the two.
Your relationship with the hybrid, whom you later learned was named Jeongguk, had been tense. You weren’t too sure about how he felt, his eyes always regarded you with disdain, and on a good day, boredom. Despite this, he followed you everywhere. The only escape you had from the leopard hybrid was your days at school. He lingered everywhere you went, be it at home or out with your friends. His poor attitude had soiled many friendships, a lot of your friends found his company uncomfortable and since you had unknowingly become a package deal, your friends dropped like flies. Even poor Namjoon had backed off, leaving you lost in a sea of assignments. On the few occasions you had given in to your pride and asked Namjoon for help, he had kept a considerable amount of distance from you, much different from the way he used to hover over you or sit shoulder to shoulder as he walked you through everything.
Jeongguk’s presence had proven to be lonely, whether he had meant it to be or not, you weren’t sure. He seemed to lack, or maybe just didn’t care for social cues. He ignored you, bossed you around, and was often too rough. He didn’t form any kind of relationship with the other hybrids of the house, he tolerated them and would sit in the same room as them until you returned home, using them to fill your absence. You quickly learned Jeongguk had unparalleled loyalty, devoted endlessly to you. Your brother had quickly picked up on your hybrid's strength, and his interests in physical activities. In the times you managed to slip away and have space for yourself, and Jeongguk was forced to be alone, he would often hang out in the home gym, or join Seokjin and Jiho for video games in the living room. Jiho had decided he and Jeongguk had far more common interests than the two of you had shared, and he proposed a swap. He offered you a choice of whichever of his hybrids in return for yours. There was no denying the thrill of getting rid of Jeongguk once and for all, you had been quick to bring the offer up to the leopard hybrid, who looked at you in disgust.
“No Master.”
Jiho had been bitter about the rejection, claiming you were being selfish. Your older sibling wasn’t informed that the rejection had come for Jeongguk himself, who had some choice words about your brother. To keep the peace between the men of the house, human and not, you took the blame.
Three years couldn't have passed fast enough. You finished your final year of school, got accepted to the university of your choice, and organized an apartment in the city with roommates, which meant no ‘pets’. You were finally free of hybrids. All your plans had been kept away from Jeongguk, and you were thankful that your brother didn’t care enough to speak about you to the hybrid, and your sister spent no time around Jeongguk, so your secret never slipped. It wasn’t until the night before you were due to leave, that the bags you had managed to pack over the last few weeks were stacked up in your emptied room and ready to go. You were going over a mental checklist, eyes fluttering over everything in your room to ensure you hadn’t missed anything important when your door flew open. You had yelped, your socked foot kicking into your suitcase. Cursing you looked over your shoulder with narrowed eyes, only for the anger to melt away at the sight of an enraged-looking Jeongguk. His chest which had grown muscular over the last few years was heaving as if he had just run the entire length of the Great Wall of China twice, his eyes looked crazed, looking over you and your empty room. His eyes finally landed on yours, an accusatory look that almost made you regret everything you had planned.
“Where are we going, Master?” his voice straining, as if trying to control the obvious rage bubbling under his skin.
“Not we, Jeongguk.” You sighed, leaning against your bedpost to keep the weight off your aching toes. “Just me.”
The leopard gave a very forced laugh, sounding more like he was choking. It honestly looked like he was in pain trying to keep himself in check. His knuckles that gripped the doorway had turned bone white, his jaw flexing as if trying to hold back his words. You watched as his eyes fell shut, his eyelids squeezing shut as if he were in pain. Maybe he was. When his eyes flew back open, locking back on yours all anger had seemed to fade away, back was the blank look he usually regarded you with.
“Master doesn't go anywhere without her pet.” He gritted out, once again seeming to be in pain.
Your shoulders sagged, and all the oxygen in your body seemed to deflate out. Part of you wanted to snap at him, ask him why you never went anywhere without him. Why did he have to be so clingy? You gave him the space to be his own person, why couldn’t he just go against what he was taught? Why did he have to be this way? Maybe if he had been nicer, more open like Jimin or Hoseok you could’ve tried to be his friend. Jeongguk was too moody, his presence often left you on edge and made you feel miserable, you didn’t want friends like that.
“I don't have any pets.” Your shoulders shrugged, finally looking back to the hybrid who looked like he had the wind once again knocked out of him.
“Master has me.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
You shook your head, sucking in a long breath. “You aren’t my pet Jeongguk, you're a hybrid. You’re too human to be a pet.”
Confusion flickered across the man's eyes before the same hard look settled back. Why did he always have to look so angry?
“But I'm not human.” He said matter-of-factly.
You snorted, nodding in agreement. He wasn't. Jeongguk, despite his mostly humanoid features, wasn't… Human. Getting along with Jeongguk had been impossible, and exhausting. Despite all your common interests, all the grounds you both stood on that could have made an impressive friendship, his attitude had made it impossible. He was blunt and abrasive. The way he looked at you made you want to shrivel away from his eyesight, and yet every time you tried he followed. If you strayed too far his fingers wrapped around your wrist, an unforgiving grip that left your bones aching. He scared away your friends, boys you liked, there wasn’t a life for you with Jeongguk lurking around. You had tried so hard to reach Jeongguk, to break that trained way he behaved. You hated the way he referred to you as Master, and himself as a pet. It always makes your stomach churn painfully. You had all but begged the hybrid to treat you as an equal, and he had always refused. You had given up a year ago, whatever hybrids are taught was too far ingrained into them for you to help.
“No, you're not.” You agreed bitterly.
The leopard cocked his head, his brow raising in silent questioning. Maybe he expected more from you, an explanation of what you meant, but you said nothing. There was nothing. You were sick of trying to maintain, and fix, all the issues you had with Jeongguk. You felt like a middle-aged woman stuck in a loveless marriage.
“Master, where are we going?” He questioned again, his words firmer.
“Not we, me.” You reiterated, rubbing your eyes tiredly.
"Master doesn’t leave with–”
A frustrated groan cut Jeongguk off, and you were surprised that it had come from you. His jaw clenched shut, his hands now gripped by his side.
“I do, Jeongguk, and I will.” The sternness of your words seemed to bother the hybrid across from you, his shoulders shaking.
“No.” He spat out.
You scoffed, years of resentment bubbling up your throat. “So now you can make decisions, go against me?” Your voice verges on hysterical laughter. “Honestly Jeongguk, go fuck yourself. Go away.”
Your words seemed to snap whatever invisible rope had been holding Jeongguk back, his body lurching forward. There wasn’t enough time to react, Jeongguk knocking you off your feet and onto your back, the softness of your mattress hitting saving your spine. Your eyes looked up at the hybrid who stood over you, the muscle in his jaw clenching and unclenching as he glared down at your shocked eyes.
“Master doesn’t leave.” He hissed, his body vibrating. The muscles in his throat flexed like he was trying to physically keep the words down. “Stay with Jeongguk, safe.” His words were chopped as if it were his first time speaking the language.
Shaking your head, your heart clenched nervously in your ribs. Jeongguk has always been rough, but nothing like this. He had never shoved you. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, trying to wiggle back, your legs stuck between Jeongguks. He quickly caught onto what you were trying to do, his hands shooting down to your thighs, tugging you back down the bed. He quickly climbed on top of you, his thighs on either side of your hips as he continued to scowl down at you.
“Jeongguk, get off.” You huffed, hand reaching to his chest trying to shove him away. To absolutely zero shock, his body didn't even budge.
“Stay safe here, Master.” He repeated.
The desperate, crazed look Jeongguk stared down at you with, had your skin burning in discomfort, and for the first time in three years, you were scared of him. Never had you felt any fear toward any of the hybrids that resided in your family home, even with Jeongguk’s less than stellar personality, had you ever felt threatened or fearful of him until this moment. So, instead of arguing with him, instead of attempting to fight back, you gave in. You went limp, all the fight you had left in you was breathed out in a heavy sigh.
“Okay, I’ll stay.” You agreed, hoping he couldn’t see any hint of the lie that fell from your tongue. “I’ll stay here, safe. You can help me unpack in the morning.”
The hybrid kept a steady gaze on you, his eyes reading over every inch of your face before slowly nodding all previous tension in his body melting away. For the first time since you had met Jeongguk, his features relaxed. There wasn’t any hostile glower, no tension or aggression left in his body. You noticed the twitch in the corner of his lips, his attempt to fight back a smile. His hand shakily moved toward your face, moving at a snail's pace. Fingers lightly grazing over your jugular before his palm took up resting on your cheek, his thumb running along your cheekbone. For the first time ever, Jeongguk looked at you with something you could only describe as adoration, and that scared you more than his icy eyes ever have.
It had taken hours, but Jeongguk eventually went back to his own room that was shared with Seokjin, the hesitation clear as day. You didn’t get a single second of sleep, eyes glued to your phone's clock waiting for the hours to pass. As soon as your phone hit 4:30 am you got to work, creeping through the halls with your bags. You were sure your heart was in your throat, trying to force itself out of your mouth. You had never felt as much anxiety as you did at this moment. The possibility of Jeongguk hearing your footsteps, your breath, even your heart, was far too real.
Your muscles don't relax until the cab's tires crunched against the gravel, the main road coming into view as you approached the gates of your home, you were approaching freedom. Out of habit, your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror upfront, taking a peek at your childhood home that you'll miss for the next few years, all relief seemed to freeze as your eyes connected with Jeongguk’s furious eyes through the mirror.
Summary: They just can’t seem to fall asleep without you.
Maknae Line/Reader, implied OT7/Reader
The night is quiet, the distinct sounds of the odd car passing by during the early hours the only source of noise breaking the peaceful stillness and you sigh contentedly as you wrap your hands around your mug, where you’d just poured a cup of freshly brewed herbal tea.
You take a seat on the island table, sipping your drink as you gaze out your window distantly. Your finger absentmindedly traces the ring of the mug and you find that for the first time in a long while, your mind has settled into a muted lull.
Finishing the gentle tonic, you set your cup in the sink and make your way to your bedroom, yawning as you blink, eyelids heavy as your body begins its descent into succumbing to the welcoming darkness.
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