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chrissshub · 17 hours

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KAMA SUTRA SESSIONS!

°❀°•༢ ❥ SYNOPSIS: When you get an appointment from a passing athlete who wants to better his game with women, who's better to answer the call than the resident sęx therapist?

°❀°•༢ ❥ CW: 8.7k words, told in first person, sẽx therapist!fem!reader, post timeskip!ushijima, not mentioned but ages are both 26, use of an oc, dialogue-heavy, pwp, peņetration, cunnilīngus, fiňgering, sqûirting, implied size difference, unprotected

°❀°•༢ ❥ DEAR READER, FROM CHRIS: So this was inspired by my most recent field of study: s*x and the kama sutra. and from my research and thinking "hm, who would have an interest in this?" is how this fic came to be. hope you enjoy!

In the life as a sex therapist, there’s some things that you hear, see, and even experience that add years to the career.

At first, I thought it was going to be a failed business move, considering that sex is seen as a taboo topic by some. I mean, it’s a process as natural as birth but people shame it with such strong resentment…like it’s an unimaginable evil that’s ruining the world.

I couldn’t help but to think my discouragement was properly placed. I was in a town with families, retirees, no one that would really need my advice.

That “failed business move” of a thought lasted all of a week.

Thanks to the small pickett signs I personally had made and placed around the office building’s parking lot and nearby plazas, I had clients booking with me by the hour.

Couples of all ages—some married, some divorced, many singles, even polyamorous groupings contacted my office.

When people heard of a new sex therapist entering the area and started booking sessions with me, I could only wish to know what was going through their minds.

I’ve dealt with teary confessions about how wives have lost attraction for their husbands, husbands who come to terms with the fact that they don’t know how to please their wives. I’ve even gotten singles who’ve come in just to make sure they still know how to perform in the bedroom.

In these past four years, I’ve learned that just because people shun the idea of sex and sexual education during the day, they’ll come on their hands and knees at night. It’s been an interesting ride, but I can proudly say that I’ve helped many people in the area rekindle their sparkle and to finally achieve their goals with their partners.

The days I’ve spent at the office were nothing short of fulfilling—and today was supposed to be like no other.

Supposed to, of course.

My day started out like normal; waking up in my bed with my eyes fluttering open. The first thing I settled my hazy squint onto was the rays of sunlight peeking through my creme shutters, begging to illuminate my room.

I pried my hand from underneath my pillow to grab my phone off on my bedside table, the screen greeting me with a single message:

(1) VOICEMAIL FROM: Hana

Hana, my cheeky, bright-eyed, receptionist. She joined me when she was a freshman at the local community college, just taking classes until she figured out what she wanted to do with her life. Fast-forward to today, she’s a fresh graduate with a bachelors in psychology.

She’s taken it upon herself to call her around 6 A.M every day with a debrief of the day ahead. When I asked her why she does it, the sweet girl simply told me the extra effort was the least she could do.

Since then, I’ve bumped her pay high enough so that she can support herself by herself and haven’t pressed the topic a vowel further.

With my debriefing at hand, I sat up in my bed, sleep still lingering behind my eyelids. I have half a mind to cancel whatever appointments I have today and sleep just for an hour more. But when I looked down at the time on my screen, it was a reality I knew I couldn’t afford.

9:00 A.M.

My office opened in an hour and my first appointment always starts at 10:30…bless me.

“Okay, Hana, let’s see what you have for me,” I mumbled as I clicked on the awaiting tab.

As my thumb pressed the play button, Hana’s voice instantly became my background noise for my morning routine—which began in the bathroom for a shower.

“‘Morning, Y/N! Hope you slept well! I have good news and bad news for you. And no, I can’t give you the bad news first because it’s intertwined with the good news. So for starters, you have a light day—one appointment! Bad news…and this is a first for us…this client booked you for a few hours.”

“Hours?!? What the fu—“

Just hearing that made me pop my head from behind the glass shower door. Clients usually meet with me for an hour, an hour and a half if needed but hours???

“I know exactly what you’re thinking because…what the fuck?? But when I explain more about him, I think you’ll be impressed.”

“Okay, you’ve got a bit of a celebrity on your hands today. This one is Ushijima Wakatoshi. He’s 26, a player for the Schweiden Alders…a professional volleyball team. He’s playing a game against our national team and is gonna be in town for a few days. He booked with you because, and this is in his words, he says that he’s a little “awkward in the realm of love and wants to improve his social skills and….intimate skills.” He also sent over test results…he’s clean, just to let you know . So…have fun with this one!”

And just like that, Hana’s cheery voice was reduced to naught, melding with the stillness of my bathroom.

I turned off the water, standing in a foggy haze. There was only one thought in my mind:

Well then, Ushijima Wakatoshi…let’s start the day together right.

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“Hana! Oh my sweet flower, I brought your favorite♪!” I sang, entering through the office’s front door.

Hana lifted her head from behind the monitor, her bright smile complementing my own.

“An omlettle with cheese and hash browns on the side?!?” She squealed, jumping from her seat.

“Mhm! Enjoy!”

Before I could take a step further, Hana ran to greet me with a hug, her curly black hair dusting along my chest.

“Thank you, Thank you!” She cheered, stepping back from me. She quickly took the stuffed brown bag from my hands before returning to her desk.

With a fading grin, I turned my attention down towards my top, a fitted rose dress shirt with just a few top buttons left undone. I wiped a few wrinkles away, shifting my attention down to my black pressed slacks that didn't face the same fate.

Still just as fresh and clean as when I left my apartment.

“So,” I began as I walked towards Hana. “How much do I have before our guest checks in?”

“Mmm, about 20. But Y/N…he’s so hot! I looked him up and wow! Like…I’m kinda confused how he’s having issues with girls. I’m sure the women at his matches throw themselves at him,” Hana gushed between a bite of her omelette.

I leaned against the rim of the desk, resting my red leather purse and my hips along the surface.

“Oh, you know how it goes. Looks can get you far, but it’s your words and actions that determine your success. I bet he does look good, but he probably needs more work on his confidence.”

“Ah, true. Well, you go tidy up your office and I’ll run the vacuum out here in a few,” Hana said, her hand shooing me away.

I grabbed my bag and giggled, “Okay, okay! But—“

I couldn’t even finish my thought when the front door tolled open, gaining a stare out of Hana and me.

“Um…excuse me…I’m here for Dr. L/N. I have an appointment at 10:30, but I just wanted to show up a little early,” the deep voice announced.

I turned my head to meet the owner behind such a voice, just for my eyes to be stunned at the sight.

A man, a tall one at that. He stood in the middle of the office with a straight face, staring back at Hana and I. His hair was a shade of brown unique to him only, brushed back to reveal his entire face. His features were strong—his jawline sharp, his cheekbones high, brows trimmed and clean, his eyes glimmering like that of a polished citrine gem.

Hana was right…he really was something to marvel at.

He stood with his hands behind his back, impassively waiting for someone to reply—or not, he really seemed unbothered.

I didn’t even need to guess what his physique could be underneath such proper garb. Those muscles weren’t shy of peeking beneath the navy suit he wore. The white dress shirt beneath was crisp, and no tie was in sight —which I guess is casual to him.

I bit my lip softly, I’ve never been intimidated by a man before, but this one made my face swell with a wafting heat. So this is Ushijima Wakatoshi…the name fits him perfectly.

Nonetheless, I had a job to do.

I rolled my shoulders back and began a few short steps towards him, the click of my heels slienced against the plush sage green carpet.

There I was, standing before him. My height met him just beneath his collar—and that’s thanks to my heels. I held my hand out to him, my glossed lips curling into a rich smile.

“Mr. Ushijima, it’s so nice to meet you! I’m Dr. L/N, but Y/N works just fine. This is Hana, my lovely receptionist.”

His hand was rough and worked, but slid against my palm like butter, his warmth melding into my touch. His thumb sat past my own, the rough pad swiping ever so softly along my skin. When my eyes finally eased from their shared smile as my lips, I couldn’t look away from him.

His own gaze was captivating, almost entrapping me in a trace of just him and I. I watched as his lips curled into a faint smile, a brief flash of white meeting my eyes.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s wonderful to meet you! Please, feel free to call me Ushijima or Wakatoshi! I’ve been waiting for this appointment for a while now..

He broke away from our contact to give his attention to Hana, waving to her with his other hand.

“And it’s nice to meet you too, Hana! Thank you for your hard work!”

I didn’t need to look back to know the look on Hana’s face: she’s a flustered mess with her tongue caught in a shudder.

“O-Oh…thanks, sir! It’s not without Y/N, though. I c-can tell you that you’ll be in…great hands!.”

Ushijima turned his sights back towards me, that muted curl of his lips growing into a full-bodied smile at last.

“I sure hope so.”

I gave Ushijima one last smile before taking my hand away from his, my hands clasping together.

“Let’s begin! I’ll bring you back and we’ll get on,” I announced, turning away from Ushijima.

As I passed by the desk, I grabbed my bag and gave Hana a swift smirk, one she returned with a wink.

Ushijima and I descended down the hall until we arrived to a room a door down from my office, room 165.

I turned the doorknob as I leaned against the white door, “Come on in.”

Ushijima nodded as he passed me, the faint scent of his cologne whisked past my nose. It’s rich—bergamot, some sage, amber, and even a hint of vanilla. That’s a good mix, and his body isn’t rejecting it, a man who knows his signature scent is a rare one these days.

The room I bought us to was of decent size—about the size of a child’s bedroom. The walls were handpainted by Hana and I some years ago, a soft peach with white carpeting. The furniture was all espresso colored, from the two leather seats that faced one another, the coffee table between the two, and the bookshelf that stood against the window.

It was a pretty comfy room, one that many current and past clients raved about.

“Pick your side and get comfortable, we’re gonna be here awhile,” I teased, closing the door behind me.

“I must apologize for that. I heard about you some time ago during a tournament and I’ve always wanted to have a sit down with you. And since I don’t come to the States often, I thought it was best to have an ample amount of time with you,” Ushijima confessed as he settled into the leather arm chair.

I followed suit, placing my bag onto the table as I sank into the seat.

“Oh, don’t apologize! You’re actually my only client today, so we can take up all day if need be. I want you to leave here confident and more sure of yourself. Which brings me to my first question…”

I folded my legs over one other, resting my hands within my lap. My eyes settled over Ushijima, not with the same set that marveled at him just minutes before. This time, I excused his attraction for purpose, preparing myself to ask the timeless question:

“What brings you in today?”

Ushijima brought himself to sit up in his seat, his large hands drifting to brace his clothed thigh.

“Well, put shortly—I wanna get better with women. I can’t talk to them, and then I see my teammates—they can strike up a conversation with them so easily. And women do talk to me, but it’s just not…oh how can I put this…with substance?”

“What do women say to you?” I asked, leaning back into the couch.

“Just talk about my looks, or how impressed they are. I’ve heard it one too many times, it gets tiring. I know they’re just trying to make conversation with me by complimenting me, but those things just bore me. My teammates love that kind of attention, but it all seems pointless to me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because,” Ushijima sighed. “It’s just going to go nowhere. I’m not into hooking up, the thought bores me honestly. I mean, I feel that you don’t get the best of someone after one night, especially if your goal is just sex.”

“So then Ushijima—”

“Wakatoshi…please call me, Wakatoshi,” Ushijima intervened, a feeble smile creeping onto his face.

“Okay…Wakatoshi, call me Y/N. Doctor is just too formal for me,” I added. “But it still begs the question, Wakatoshi: What are you looking for?”

“As in my romantic goals or my type?”

“Both work perfectly! Your interests do tie into your romantic goals,” I informed him.

Now, it’s so unbecoming of me to ask a client what their type is…but Ushijima is such a special case that I’ll overlook just this once.

After posing the question to him, Ushijima took a moment of silence to ponder, his eyes narrowing down on me.

“My type is…smart. Really smart. A put together woman with a good sense of humor. I’m more on the rigid side but I do appreciate a woman who can find joy in things. Her beauty goes without saying, so basically—a woman of substance.”

“Okay, sounds—

“What’s your type?”

Just the query to catch me off my guard…and pique my interest. In all my years, I’ve never had a client return any of my questions to me; I didn’t think Ushijima would be the first.

My cheeks flickered with heat, but I found comfort within the moment by biting my tongue softly. My eyes were pinned on him, Ushijima still wearing that blank yet firm expression on his face— neutral eyes, brows stilled and his mouth free of any curl or twitch.

Just a peaceful face behind a stinging question.

“I don’t see how that matters…?” I said, staring at Ushijima through a razor-sharp squint.

“But it does matter. It’s not a hard question unless you make it one,” he continued. “What’s your type of man, Y/N? It’d be nice to know, since we’re gonna be here awhile together.”

A grin perked up onto his lips, the cracks of pearly white teeth breaking onto the scene.

“Can’t I ask you some questions too?”

My lips broke apart between a brewing sigh, the tip of my tongue pressed against the gummy flesh of my cheek. I can’t deny him to be honest, we are stuck here for some time, and this session couldn’t continued as a one sided conversation forever.

“Alright, my type…my type…. I like a tall man, a nice athletic build, keeps himself well kept. As far as personality: smart, kind, respectful, responsible, and thoughtful. Thoughtfulness, however, is a big one for me. It’s nice to know you mean so much to someone that they would take actions out of that place of love. That’s quite admirable in my eyes.”

There was an air of silence between Ushijima and I. He sat still and I did the same. Our eyes hadn’t broken from each other either, yet the softening hues of olive green made me feel calm beneath Ushijima’s gaze.

But this was an appointment, not a staring contest. I was the first to break the silence.

“A-hem..Um… well, I digress, let’s continue,” I choked out.

I broke the eye contact Ushijima and I worked so hard to maintain with a simple blink, searching for the next territory of topic to enter.

“So where did we—talked about types…but that’s not exactly helpful in the slightest. I know you wanted to address conversation too, but can you explain a little bit more?”

Ushijima nodded calmly, but that wasn’t all I got from him. Vunerabilty was one hell of a feeling, and it dusted the highs of his cheeks red. And as his skin began to run hot, Ushijima himself grew antsy, his hand coming to rub at the nape of his neck.

But…it was cute to me. The emotions I see on a daily basis are pride, sadness, anger—but embarrassment is a rare one that I can always appreciate.

“I…I don’t know how to flirt. It’s always awkward and I honestly feel stupid,” he mumbled, his stare pinned down at his pants.

“I hear you,” I consoled, a faint smile crowding at my lips.

“It’s such an unspoken realm that everyone is expected to know how to do but with no explanation. Flirting is something that is also unique to each person. It can be acts of kindness, giving compliments,—or the complete opposite. Some people like to tease, play rough, or even act cold as a form of flirting.”

Ushijima followed along with me, nodding his head every so often.

“So then, what is the best way of flirting?” He asked.

“Well, I can’t say. —

“Let me rephrase,” He interjected. “What would a man have to do or say to you in order for you to be interested in him?”

“Wit.”

“Wit?”

“Yeah, I love witty, intelligent conversations. It could be anything and I’ll find interest in it. Just being able to express your intelligence to me—whether it be on topic you know or asking questions, I love it all. I guess to keep it short, the mind and how a man expresses his knowledge is what gets me interested.”

The presence of a faint grin lit up Ushijima’s face.

“That’s what it takes, hm…”

An air of enticement bled into the room and it shamefully claimed me as its victim. I’ll admit, I’ve never had a client as interesting as Ushijima. Aside from his genuine intrigue about sex and the ways of courting, he seems to have something more on his mind—and I wanted to know every single detail. But he plays along too well, thanks to that blank expression he wears so proudly. But he slipped up with that damn grin, now it’s my turn to play the next hand.

I placed my hand on the open cushion beside me, the tips of my fingers drumming along the leather surface.

“Come sit, let’s do an exercise…just so it really sinks in. Maybe you’ll be able to use this as reference for the next lady that catches your eye.”

And just like that, Ushijima was swift to oblige. I was hooked on the sight of him standing from his seat, his hand toying with the buttons of his blazer. The white dress shirt he wore was finally revealed to me, the subtle hints of his muscular frame peeking through.

His steps were calm and controlled, carefully trudging around the glass coffee table. Ushijima held himself with a confidence unmatched to any man I’ve met thus far. He was interesting to observe, and even more fun to tease. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in seeing how far we could go, all kinds of thoughts were plaguing my mind.

As he stood over me, I had to bite back a smile, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip.

This was turning out to be an interesting session, after all.

Ushijima placed himself on the couch at an arm’s length away, leaving an untasteful gap amongst us. Yet when my eyes had fallen on his stoic face, the man’s fair skin was budding with the innocence of pink.

“Well don’t be shy, Wakatoshi,” I cooed. My hand patted at the spot just beside my thigh, hinting for him to move closer.

“We are here together for quite some time, might as well get…a little close.”

With a firm nod, Ushjima bridged the gap between strangers to acquanitances among us, his body now resting snug at my side. He had yet to face me, as if he was embarrassed to do. I noticed that he kept his hands in his lap, his digits nervously fiddling around.

I reached over to his hand, softly grazing along the back of his hand to ease his worries.

“Ushijima? You ready? We don’t have to do this, if you’re not comfortable—”

“No, let’s do it,” he huffed, his body turned towards me. “What kind of exercise are we doing?” He asked, turning his body to face me.

“Great! For the exercise, let’s pretend we’re meeting at…oh, I dunno, a bar. Do your best to try and ask me out on a date.”

“Um…Y/N…you do realize that the fact that I can’t ask anyone on a date is why we’re here, right?”

“Yes…I do, thank you for that. Use your imagination—a bar has ambiance lighting, soft music, drinks on rotation, play on the environment, and make a good impression, okay?”

Ushijima sat in silence for a moment, his eyes narrowing as the seconds passed. I could assume that he was thinking—really thinking at that.

I almost pulled into my own daze of boredom, the color of the walls catching my eye—until the quiet mumble of his voice broke the stilled air.

“Well…what do you drink at a bar?”

I tucked my leg beneath me as I shifted myself to give Ushijima my full and undivided attention. He mirrored me, turning so that we were both facing one another. Yet again, our eyes locked, unwilling to falter from the view we had of one another.

“I usually go for a glass of wine, I’m not a fan of heavy liquor.”

“Wine’s a good choice. Are you someone who pairs wine with food?”

I shook my head, “Not really. But, I do know that red wine goes best with some fruits, chocolate, and steak. Rosé goes best with grilled vegetables or salmon, and white is the best of both worlds.”

“Oh really?” Ushijima hummed. “I never realized wine could be so specific. Since you know so much, why not put your knowledge to the test?”

“And how are we gonna do that?”

A soft smile grew across Ushijima’s lips. He seemed to relax a bit–his shoulders laxed, his side now resting against the couch’s back cushions, he even shifted a bit closer to me too; all of which made me ease up too. I wasn’t feeling as guilty as I was before–if anything, I was pleased with the way our exercise was going.

Ushijima has such a nice, easy voice that greets the ear so kindly, and his eyes were just so alluring to stare into, I could sit here for hours just watching how his moss green hues catch the light of every hour. Not to mention that the scent of his cologne was finally welcomed into the scene, just wafting past my nose every so often.

He had all the making of an ideal guy, so why isn’t he–

“I know a place near here, a nice restaurant with a wine cellar in the basement,” he led on. “ They have collections that date back years, and from what I know, the darker the wine, the richer…no, the sweeter it drips on the tongue. I’d like to hear your thoughts in a…professional setting, if you may.”

“I’d like that,” I nodded, a curling grin consuming my senses. “I’m sure you’d have some thoughts to tell me too.”

Ushijima shrugged, his hand coming to brace the pulse of his neck. “Honestly, there’s a lot on my mind I could tell you so much right now, but then…well…we might not make it to the restaurant. And I’m just dying to pour you a glass of wine, so…for now I’ll be paitent.”

I pushed my lips into a wading pout. I could feel my eyes softening beneath his gaze. He could find the time to tease me back while flustered like this…interesting.

“And what if I don’t have the same patience?” I pried, a sly smirk pressed onto my lips.

That’s when Ushijima sealed the end of our improv scene, bringing his hull of a body to overshadow my own. His lips came to fill the shell of my ear with an esteemed chuckle. His breath painted against my skin, awakening my nerves to greet him. I was helpless, at his every whim—and not a fiber in me wanted it any other way.

“Then I’ll just have to tease you ‘til you break…right?”

He drew himself back gradually, our dilated eyes catching sight of each other once more. I was at a loss for words, my lips agape beneath the heat of shock. At that moment, all I could think about what would follow—his lips crashing into mine, his hands bracing every curve of my body. I wanted to be under him, to have to stare up into those eyes to plead for relief from the stirring heat flaring about my body.

But then again, this isn’t some magic fairytale…it’s an appointment.

“How was that?” He asked, his words breaking my sinful chain of thought.

“Good,” I complimented, hiding my roused thoughts behind a smile. “You’ll most definitely get a date like that.”

“Well, I might have gotten the date, but I wanna be able to…y’know…”

“To what, Ushijima? You gotta be a little more clear than that,” I smirked.

His skin began to flush itself of its tan shade in lieu of the trickles of rose dotting the highs of his cheek.

“To…please a woman.”

“Please? Like…please and thank you? I hate speaking in code…especially in a professional setting.” I continued to press.

If I had known he was so shy towards the topic of sex earlier, then we would’ve been able to ease into it. But for him to tease me like that…it’s only fair I return the gracious favor.

Ushijima’s eyes shot wide, a gasp breaking his lips apart. He was reluctant, but he gave in, biting at his bottom lip.

“Fine…I wanna know how to be good at sex…happy?”

“Oh, well to be good at sex is just the same as being a good lover. And I can show you how with this…" I trailed off.

I quickly rose from my spot on the couch, setting my sights on my bookcase. A few steps brought in front of the shelved plethora of knowledge, eyes searching for the spine of the book needed for the moment.

"Ah! Here we are," my hand plucking out the book from its peers.

“This…is the Kama Sutra. It’s an ancient Indian text written by the Hindu philosopher, Vātsyāyana Mallanaga; that explains how both men and women can lead rich sexual and social lifestyles. The Kama Sutra has become associated with sex positions over the years, but it doesn’t make it a heavy presence within the book.”

I returned to Ushijima’s side, seating myself beside him with the book in tow. I rested the Kama Sutra on his lap, allowing him to absorb the famed text. I watched as his eyes flitted about the cover, tracing every word to be found.

“Wanna flip through it?” I suggested, softly tugging at the book cover.

“Yeah,” Ushijima nodded. “I’m interested.”

From the moment I opened the book, Ushijima and I were bound by the knowledge of the old world. The pages were written in english, yet the message was something that transcended all known languages. I went on to explain to him how the kama sutra devled into how sex between two lovers should be enjoyable for everyone, and how the pleasure of the woman would lead to ultimate satisfaction for both parties.

Though I’ve read it before for papers, presentations, and even for my dissertation, reading it with Ushijima was an experience that struck the strings of my heart in a special way.

Maybe it was becasue he expressed a genuine interest in the questions he asked. Or maybe it was the cute reactions he made when things finally clicked. Or maybe it was the plain fact that I had someone beside me to read it with for once.

From time to time, I took a few moments to study Ushijima’s reaction to his answered questions. He would blink a few times, as though he had to internalize all of what was said. Then, he’d peered over to me with a smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

Our chase of knowledge led us to the chapter on positions, the page’s title calling for Ushijima’s attention to be riled.

“This chapter looks short. Where are the positions?”

“Well, the Kama Sutra actually doesn’t have any positions, it gives advice on how to select and personalize positions between lovers.”

“Huh,” he huffed. “…and what does that look like?

“Want me to show you?”

A blanket of silence fell over him, and he’s back to wearing that blank, sedated look on his face.

Damn, was that too strong? It was a little forward but I know it’s nothing—

“If it’s not too much…I’d be honored.”

“Well, then,” I grinned as I placed the book atop of the glass tabletop. “Let’s get started.”

Ushijima’s hand nuzzled along my waist, guiding me over his lap to straddle him.

“You can just sit right on me, I think we’re getting a little closer, yeah?”

“I think we are, but we can get closer too, y’know.”

“And can we do that?”

With that burning question of his, I was forced to bear the weight of what lust looks in his eyes—his pupils dilating, his eyelids growing heavy, and a mischievous smirk tracing his lips.

“Do you wanna be on top?” I quizzed, toying with the top button of his dress shirt.

“Well I’m just here to observe, so I think you should be on top,” he said, leaning back against the couch. He brought me down with him, his hands nestled along my lower back. Just like that, my chest was smothered against the tauntingly chiseled mass of his own.

My hands languidly skimmed along the face of Ushijima’s shirt. He held still as my touch consumed him and his senses whole, his lungs coaxed into a steam of shaky shallow, breaths.

“Y’know, we have to find a way to make this position our own, make sure we fit each other just right,” I hummed, draping my arms along his broad shoulders. I lowered myself further into his groin, pressing up against something hard…and twitchy.

That’s when I felt it, a thick bulge nested right between Ushijima and I.

Men are so easy, it’s so cute.

That stoic face of his was cracking right before my eyes—his eyes screwed shut, lips stunning with a puffy pout, his cheeks brushed with the innocent hues of blush. He looked so lost in his own heat, desperately squirming for a remedy.

“Oh my-fuck, Y/N. What do you want from me? I’ll do anything, just say the word!”

I brought my thumb to tug along the plush of Ushijima’s bottom lip, his glossed skin clinging to my touch.

“Aww, where’s the patience you had earlier? I thought you were gonna tease me? But seeing you like this…it’s a good look on you too, Wakatoshi.”

A gentle grin eased itself into Ushijima’s features, fueled by the same salacious nature dotting his eyes. His hold over me shifted, his hand slipping down to grasp at the thick curve of my ass. He even found the chance to snake his hand between us to cup at the underside of my thigh. He kept me near, forcing his chest to curl into mine as he sat up once more.

“I can guarantee you one thing, Y/N.” Ushijima huffed, his heavy eyes peering up at me.

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“After me, you won’t ever need another lover.”

My hazy stare fluttered between his eyes and his lips, capturing the sight of It was almost likat was all I needed to finally be sealed beneath his trance. And because of that, I was able to press a soft peck onto Ushijima’s lips, breaking away just to whisper words of encouragement for his racing mind to catch.

“Then prove it.”

Sharing my spite, Ushijima’s lips bared one final smirk before crashing against my own. His kiss told me all I needed to know–soft, puffy, and clinging to my own. The supply curves of his lips caught every pushing tide I offered, ignithing a ravenous intent deep within us both.

His hands roamed over my body, claiming every curve, every inch of me for his taking. It’s dizzying to have him like this, a nonchalant man turned hungry for every crumb to offer. He was getting restless, his hips bucking for friction all over again.

Maybe I was so focused on how dumb his lips had driven me or his hands tracing my body like a sculpture to his sculpture, but how he managed to have me pinned beneath him and smothered into the leather cushion is a mystery to me alone, but I wasn’t about to complain.

How could I when he smothered me beneath the thick of his chest, sending my head into a dizzied frenzy But with the way his lips carried such care to dance with mine was enough for me to forgive him for being so needy. The same needy–no, greedy nature made him take control without any room for debate, and I surely wasn’t planning on starting anything I couldn’t finish.

“Mm, Y/N?” He mumbled, breaking our kiss.

“Hm?"

“If I remember correctly, didn’t the book say I should make you cum a few times? Through your pleasure, I'll find mine right?"

"Look at you, guess you really are learning. I think it did...so what are we gonna do about that?"

I didn’t need to hear the words to know what he had planned. I lifted my hips to help him, his hands stripping me free of my pants.

Ushijima slotted himself between the couch and the table, clutching at my waist from below.

His arms hooked around my thighs, his hands resting within the crease of my thighs, his filled palms squeezing at the plush fat. He seemingly ignored the fact that my underwear—the most annoying fact to exist—was still on.

Until his fingers began to trace along the pink lace. Slowly, carefully, and lazily he dragged the pad of his digit all over my panties, feeding some new whim of his.

I watched him for a while as he led with his own agenda. Until I couldn’t sit still without some answer.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Am I?” He retorted, his eyes darting to meet mine.

His touch burned with the thrill of tease as he gradually followed the edges towards the inseam of my panties. The pad of his middle finger was all he relied on as he carefully traced the puffy lips of my pussy.

His finger sunk between my clothes lips, just for his discovery to be rewarded with the bud of my clit. That’s when Ushijima pinned his stare on me, antagonizing me into a game of endurance.

Those aimless strokes turned into a series of sloppy circles, Ushijima claiming my clit as his latest victim in his game of taunts.

A whine cracked from behind my lips, something was stirring deep within me. He’s just teasing me but yet it was enough for my legs to tremble and my core to grow heavy with desire. How the fuck was he doing this to me?

A sigh from Ushijima broke my train of jumbled thoughts, bringing me back into the hellish scene.

His breath fanned over the supple skin of my inner thigh, the heat inducing tremors to rake through my limbs.

“Aw, I’m making a mess, “ Ushijima sighed. “Oh well.”

He drew himself back from me, fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt. He plucked his shirt open one button at a time, stopping just midway of his chest.

I closed my legs, allowing him to tug my soaked pink pantiesf rom beneath me and off somewhere in the room. Ushijima returned to his post between my thighs—prying my legs apart for him to fill once again. His heavy arms curled around my thighs, his cheek nuzzled against the plumped skin.

My face swelled with heat as he continued his marvels, his hand cupping my cunt. His thick fingers settled against my lips, spreading the fat supple mounds apart for him to see.

“Oh, Y/N…” He mumbled, pulling my hips closer to his awaiting tongue.

A scattered sigh tore out from Ushijima’s mouth, tickling my bare pussy with its heat.

His heavy eyes were pinned to the raw sight he created of my pussy. I watched as his sights flickered over the scene, enticing his teeth to digging into his bottom lip. Determination painted his face with its fierce hues that it even fanned over to me. I’ve never had a man look at my cunt with such passion. It was enough for me to even succumb to the heat of it all.

“Mm, fuck. Just lemme…” Ushijima trailed off mindlessly.

Before he could even finish his thought, his lips were already busy with peppering kisses along my dewed folds. Kisses that were wet, sloppy and kiss carried the sweet, lewd cries of Ushijima coaxing my clit to join in his dance for two.

It’s filthy the way Ushijima works at my clit—his tongue lolls about my clit lazily, leaving glimmering soapy trails of spit to drip past my folds.

Every lash he delivers is a thoughtful one; the warm, soft flat of his tongue dragging against the puffy pearl, the sticky mess he’d made out of my clit clinging to the grooves of his tongue.

His lips are like velvet, left plump by the kisses we’d given on each just moments before. And to have those same luscious lips envelope my clit into a world that was nothing short of dizzying.

Just the thought of his ministrations alone left my clit spry, the bundle of nerves twitching within the confines of Ushijima’s sloppy mouth. He busied himself with a soporific rhythm, suckling at the rathe bud just for kicks.

Ushijima peered at me through dilated pupils, those olive hues flickering all about my face. I couldn’t imagine the sight he had of me being committed to memory: puffy lips spilling with drool, close eyes screwed shut, and crude, whimsical curses ripping from my mouth.

“Mmhm, talk to me, Angel. feels good?”

“Mm, yesyesyes! Oh fuck, just like that Ushijima!” my voice weakly keened.

Awe glistened in my eyes as I watched him, mindlessly chasing an orgasm for my body to revel in. Yet, my drowsy lids were pinned to his jaw, bearing the weight of his hunger. Something came over me, a sense of adoration. So, I reached out to cup his jaw, grazing along what worked so hard to pull an orgasm out of me.

My thumb settled along the highs of his cheek, stroking at his flustered skin. He’s doing such a good job on my behalf, how couldn’t I thank him?

“Oh, that’s it. Y’re doing a good job, Ushijima,” I praised, sharing a weak grin.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he chuckled softly.

In place of his lips, Ushijima brought a single digit nip at my entrance. He drew lazy circles around my slit, prepping me for what’s to come.

He’s gentle, easing barely half an inch of his digit inside. My walls grew lax for Ushijima, sucking his long thick fingers to fill my pussy.

He made me so sensitive that just off that, I was whimpering out babbles to fall on no one’s ears in particular. Yet Ushijima still took heed to be kind with me.

“Shhh, just take me, baby. ‘m gonna go as slow as you want me to,” he assured.

I didn’t feel his hand move from my thigh, but it did, reaching out for my own. Through my drunken senses, I managed to welcome his hand into mine, our fingers folding over one another.

Bit by bit, Ushijima’s finger filled my gummy walls. He really was gentle, moving when my walls were lax and willing. He drove his finger to the hilt, only to slowly pull his digit back.

“Oh…fuckkk…s’ pretty,” he slurred, passing a glance back towards me.

“Tell me where you want me.”

“Just curl your finger up--- oooh fuck!” I mewled, tossing my head back against the couch.

My hands followed suit, splitting away from Ushijima to grip along the couch’s frame behind my head. When I had Ushijima in my sights again, it wasn’t without a smug grin crowding his visage.

“So…is it here?” Ushijima asked, the pad of his digit lightly pulsing at my sweet spot.

“Mhm, right there. Just keep doing that.”

“Aww, Y/N, you shouldn’t have told me that—‘m gonna have fun with you now.”

Ushijima snickered as he returned to my clit, inviting the perked bud to melt over his tongue all over again. I trembled at the combined notions, sending an arch to overwhelm my spine.

“W-Wait, Ushi–That’s too much, ‘m already so close!”

Ushijima merely nodded, my words essentially falling onto deaf ears. Electricity licked all throughout my body, sending twitches to rattle my weak legs. I couldn’t take it, Ushijima’s finger toying with my sweet spot, he was setting me on course for the high of my life.

“W-Wakatoshi! Toshi–fuck, ‘m cumming!” I cried, my lungs grasping for what air could enter.

Ushijima’s finger plugged itself at my core, bringing a seizing crash to break over my body. Every ounce of me held firm, shivering to bear the weight of my chased high. My hips waved against the pad of his digit, riding out the end of my ecstasy off whatever friction would be found.

Ushijima withdrew his finger from my cunt, leaving my poor hold bare and gaping for something else to fill me. He brought that sullied digit straight to his mouth , sucking my honey off his fingers as he gleamed over me. Sporadic breaths chimed through the sex-stained air, my chest buckling to keep up with me.

“That’s a good girl,” Ushijima cooed. “Cumming so hard for me. Look at what you did to me.”

Ushijima stood from my legs, his hand racing to grip at his crotch. And he was right—his pants were strained thanks to his bulge, the fabric just barely holding itself together. But what caught my attention was the bubbly mess of precum foaming through his slacks.

“Didn’t even touch me and you made me cum, should be proud,” he chuckled.”But that’s fine, we’re even…for now.”

“And what does that mean?” I asked, shifting myself to lay along the couch.

“Let’s find out what I mean together.”

Ushijima quickly stripped himself of his clothes coaxing me to strip of whatever clothing was left on me as well. As he removed his clothing, my eyes hinged on his bare body—taut muscles highlighted his towering frame. He’s ribbed with strength chiseled to suit his build.

A thick trail of faint brown hair from his belly button guided down to the sight resting between his legs. He’s big, cock so heavy with lust that it needed no help to rise on its own. His cock was topped by a thick, fat reddened bulb, dribbling with glossy tears. His length was tanned, adorned with veins from the poor pressure building at his core. I watched as Ushijima settled himself between my legs, his dick slapping down against my tummy.

"See? Look how deep I'm gonna go," he smirked, his hand gripped at the base of his cock.

I laid my head on the couch’s armrest, lying in wait for Ushijima's next move.

Ushijima placed his painfully hard cock to lay within my folds, my clit smothered beneath the weight.

“I’m gonna go slow, okay?"

I nodded as I peered down to watch Ushijima nudged at my hole with the head of his cock, slowly prying my slit to greet his girth.

“Fuh—pretty pussy’s taking me in already. Griping me s’ fucking tight,” Ushijima seethed, his hands griping along the couch’s cushions.

My walls supplied Ushijima’s cock with gushing kisses, fluttering about his throbbing length. He kept working to bury himself to the hilt, dipping his hips to engulf my senses with nothing but him—his scent, his ardor, his fat bulbous heat fixated on digging out my cunt.

“Y’re so big, Toshi! Fuck, go deeper!”

“Nuh uh, “Ushijima tutted as his eyes came to a screwed shut. “Don’t be so greedy, Baby. I got you, just…—shit—feel me, okay? His honeyed voice whimpered.

I nodded softly, watching as Ushijima’s hips finally granted my wish. I couldn’t help but squeeze him in place, my walls fluttering around him. He was just so huge, filling out every inch of my pussy like it was nothing. My lashes grew heavy from the bubbling sear of tears lining my eyes. This pain—an intoxicating stretch sent me down a spiral of, being so full like this by Ushijima was something I was enthralled by the feeling of being so full and stretched around him.

Ushijima took notice too as he looked down at the unfolding scene.

“Aw look, you took every inch! ‘m s-so…proud of you,” Ushijima huffed out.

He leaned over me, pressing his chest flush against my own, resting his forehead within the crook of my neck. He brought his world crashing into mine, the heat of our bodies melding into one. I could even sense his heartbeat, thumping a languid aria into my skin. All I wanted to do was hold him, to have this moment last for as long as we could. But considering the throbbing mess he’d been reduced to, lust reigned over all other senses.

“I’m gonna start moving,” Ushijima mumbled into my dewed skin. “Just…talk to me, Princess. Just wanna see that face when you cum for me again…so fuckin’ bad.”

He reeled his hips back weakly, striping my walls of the salacious fill of him. He drew himself just enough to have the tip just barely slipping from out of me, only for him to stuff every inch of him to the hilt.

“T-Toshi! Ohmygosh!” I squealed, sending my hands to brace along the thick of his forearms.

“I-I know. ‘m sorry! H-Here, gonna kiss it all better,” Ushijima groaned, his lips sloppily crashing into mine.

Through all this, Ushijima’s hips rocked gently, working a cadence just for me. Slow yet deep allowed the red, weeping bulb of his cock to chip away at my need for dominance. Each reel of his cock enticed my walls to ease in his care, granting him to move that much quicker.

And within those passing moments, the quiet squelches erupted into the lewd cymbals of clashing skin breaking into the air. Ushijima drove his cock to the hilt with ease.

The same fate befell him, his quiet and restrained grunts now morphed into quivering sobs. His lips now dressed a heavy pout, dripping with his spit and carrying his weary words.

“Keep squeezing like that ‘nd I’m gonna cum."

“M-Me too, Toshi! I’m so close!”

I perched myself onto my elbows, urgent to close the valley left to exist between our two worked bodies.

Not a word had to fall from my lawless tongue for Ushijima to soothe my wants. He leaned in, hunching over to blur our worlds into one. His hand snaked around to brace the nape of my neck, bestowing a gentle grip over me just to keep me close. He pressed his forehead flush against my own, beads of sweat dotting my skin.

Our lips remained poised in the heat of our budding passion, catching every whimsical babble we had to each other..

I couldn’t resist smothering him in a kiss, lazily catching every moan to ring from his chest. He was working so hard on my behalf, driving himself mad, sweaty, and depleted just to please me—oh, how lucky was I?

He broke away from our messy kiss, muttering some mantra that seemed to grasp his concern more.

He retreated back onto his haunches, pinning his sights on the messy canvas he’d made of my cunt. His thumb, the pad of his digit etching loose loops over the cherried pearl.

I reached out to brace his wrist, pulling his hand to lay atop my tummy.

“Nuh uh, don’t wanna cum like that. J-just keep—fuck! Please don’t stop!” I sobbed, rolling my ensnared hips to match Ushijima’s tempo.

“Aww cumming already? Better make a mess or else I'm not stopping til you do.”

“Ooo-oh fuck, I-I can make a mess! Just fr’ you.”

From that pledge Ushijima and I made, a fever dream broke out over the room. A dream fueled by sinful fervor that claimed any sense Ushijima and I had down to nothing. All we had on the brain was each other, doing our own part helping each meet our peaks.

As for me, he’s rendered me dumb and drunk over his cock, feeding my sweet spot with his deliciously thick girth. Dumb hiccuping babbles were all I could muster. My plushy walls were consumed by a familiar flutter, my inevitable high teetering on the edge.

“ToshiToshi, right there! I’m gonna—!" The word trapped itself within my throat, only to be replaced by a blubbering whimper.

A spell of heat licked at every nerve in my body. My eyes were sent rolling into the back of my head as my overwhelmed body coaxed my poor ruined cunt to weep, a burst of tears gushing over Ushijima’s flexed abdomen.

“Good fucking girl, making a mess just like I asked. I wanna—fuck!—'m wanna cum with you too!”

The peak of my high left me just barely conscious, my eyes heavy with the sudden heft of fatigue. Through the thick gathering of my lashes, I gawked at Ushijima, his own nirvana finally crashing down around him.

“Oh—‘m cumming! Y/N, I'm gonna cum!”

Ushijima trembled as his rutting hips came to a stuttering halt. He frantically ripped himself from inside of me, the roused nerves of his cock sent into a twitching frenzy. Nuzzling the bulbous head along my inner thigh, the warm tears of white painted skin, followed by a clogged groan pouring from Ushijima’s gaping mouth.

He collapsed on top of me, his lungs desperately heaving for air. I laced my arms around him, taking my digits through his unkempt hair as he came down.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I got you. Just relax,” I hummed softly.

Ushijima and I lay on that couch for a while longer, neither of us ready to move. As I combed through his hair, he kept a hand on my stomach, tapping away at some tempo to soothe himself. Just a quiet, peaceful reflection of the practices he and I had done.

He was right, I don't think I'll need another lover after that. My legs were practically useless, my throat sore, and my body was still reeling from the temors of my high. Even Ushijima still shivered from time to time. That moment was something straight out of a movie, calm, quiet, and filled with a growing fondness.

To my surprise, Ushijima was the first to break the silence with a question.

“So about our date, what time works—“

“Oh! You were serious about that?!”

Ushijima nodded, “Well…yes. I know it was an exercise but I really wanted to take you out somewhere nice. And I actually do know a place around here with a huge wine cellar.”

My head fell into a tilt as I studied Ushijima for a second. He’s back to his regular “stoic” self but this time every feature in his face was softened—his brows, his lips, his eyes; all carried a bout of sincerity. I simply had no heart to deny him, especially now knowing what kind of man he was in the face of rapture.

“Y’know what, Ushijima,” I purred as my hand reached to cup his cheek.

“I’d like that.”

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khuzena · 1 day

Text

Waiting room

Pairing: Dr ratio, Aventurine, Sunday x g/n!reader

Summary: You can love, get on your knees and wait on a miracle. There are things that are for you and aren't for you, you should know. It's for the better.

Cw. Heavy angst, no comfort, 1% fluff, manipulative men, toxic relationships, insecurities, death?, unrequited love, breakups, them neglecting you cos…, no closure, what is love?

A/n: hi, time to make you cry. I'm getting writer's block as I'm making a new novel!! It has the ‘your guardian angel’ fics plot but w my characters. 🥳

Dr ratio

He's a simple man, really.

Drown yourself in endless textbooks, advanced literature and neglect every other thing.

Like his thirst for knowledge; love is endless, affection is abundant.

Is what you initially thought.

It has been the 4th time this week that he turned down your requests, “Dear, you know I have no time for that.”

He does not try to sugarcoat his words, he does not try to make his tone less harsh, “I don't have time for dates, such a waste of time.'' He says it like it is, he says it like it's true.

Your eyebrows creased, annoyed at his flippant attitude, “What do you mean waste of time?”

Veritas takes one glance at you, then back to his nonsense book. To him, it was useless wasting his breath on arguing with you.

“Veritas, you said we'll go, you promised.”

He is cruel, his words flinty. “I do not recall making any atrocious promises to you, are you perhaps going insane?”

Insane?

“Insane? Last week, you promised me.”

“I did not.”

“Yes you did.”

He scoffs, as if offended, “If I did, then I was not thinking straight. I have a thesis due tomorrow. A date can wait.”

Veritas is a man with priorities and out of all of them, it seems, you were not one of them. He'd rather his books kept him company, not you. It's obvious, his pursuit of knowledge was greater than loving you.

He lit his lamp, taking his pen and highlighting some paragraphs, what was so important with them? You could not help but come closer, skimming through the contents, it was just some theory some genius society member wrote.

“You're miserable,” it might've accidentally slipped out, but it was true; he is, in fact, the most miserable of all men.

Veritas rolled his eyes, pushing his reading glasses and annotating whatever statement was written. The candle light flickered when his heavy breaths fanned over it, not paying mind to whatever you say.

Your patience was thinning, how long was he planning to play this damned game?

“Veritas.”

You call out once.

“Veritas!”

Again, in anger.

“Veritas”

The last time, desperately.

He does not respond, he does not care. Yet your voice was ringing in his ears in an unpleasant way, “Is this about the date?”

You were taken aback by his curt reply, it wasn't just about the date. “Is that all? Do you think that's the only reason?”

“Hypothetically speaking, yes.”

“Cut the bullshit, veritas.”

Veritas glares at you, as if making a statement; a bullshit one at that. He does not have time for mindless topics, he's overworked, he's tired, he's unsatisfied.

For a moment, you have the urge to yell at him. This shallow bastard has done nothing but fool you with aureate words, he writes poetry about you and shows you off.

He loves you because you are all he has. He may be an asshole but he loves you the way he knows how to love you.

Tonight, however, you are done with his bullshit. You do not argue further, he is confused. When you leave this room with no more qualms, when you do not scream at him, he is bewildered.

“Where are you going?” It's strange that he noticed you for the first time. Only when you get dressed up and when he hears the keys jingle, does he notice every single detail.

You adjusted the cuffs of your blouser, “I'm staying at a friend's”

“Which one?”

“None of your business.”

Stunned, he drops his pen. Why are you acting so off? You're driving him insane.

“What do you mean none of my business? Stop acting so childish.”

That was your last straw, childish? Childish? The fucking audacity.

“You are more childish.”

“How so?”

“You— do I even have to explain it?”

Nothing could quell your frustration other than being away from him for the meantime, “Yes,” he loves you, he wants to know. But even if he does, he never learns; so much for a genius.

“You neglect me, you prioritise this,” it was tempting to crumple his papers, “—over me.” So you did.

He is indifferent. He does not understand how and why it hurts you. So he tries to understand it from a logical standpoint, “So you want to really go on that date?”

“I'm tired of asking”

Tired of begging him to treat you right, to love you like you want him to love you.

He stays quiet.

“I'm tired of begging for something so small.”

“You didn't have to destroy my goddamn book,” he seethed and pulled the book from your hands, too absorbed in the damage of the book he does not notice how much he has damaged you. Veritas is too blind to see you holding back tears despite wearing his glasses.

The force surprised you, “Is that thing much more important?”

“What?”

“Answer me Veritas Ratio.”

It was merely just a book, but it was precious. It was a rare one, it annoyed him to immeasurable depths when you crumpled it so recklessly.

He does not answer.

“I'm leaving,” he's not sure if leaving meant temporarily, he hopes it is. He hopes you come back again tomorrow night.

So he waits. Tomorrow came, but you did not come home.

Aventurine

He loves you, he really does.

His idea of love is adorning you with jewels, showering you with riches.

Too much that you suffocate, it hurts. You can't breathe, soulless eyes stare into yours.

It's when you realise, he's trapping you. Does he think you're stupid? What does he take you for?

“Darling! I got you a gift!”

The 22nd one this week… Aventurine makes haste and runs behind you, wearing the necklace on you, it looks… okay.

You look like a doll, his doll.

But you are not a doll, you are human.

And like all humans, we all wish to be loved and cherished as an equal.

“Do you like it?” It would be rude to say no, but it does not fit you. Sure it accentuates your neck, but it's too much.

“I…” you traced your finger over the gem, “I do.”

“Great! I'll get you another tomorrow!” It is tiring. As much as planets worth of gold and extravagant jewels excite you, you would rather be in his presence.

You do not recall the last day he's ever taken you out on a proper date, you do not recall any time where he's been open to you about his past because you know damn well his name could never just be ‘Aventurine’.

You were sitting on the couch, sipping tea with your eyes glued to your book. Before you knew it, soft lips grazed on your cheek.

“You're back earlier than expected,” he smiles as he pressed another kiss onto you, “I ditched the meeting, for you.”

Oh how you hate it when he does things in your name just to make you indebted to him. Aventurine loves you, but love is transactional.

“Is that so?” He nods, wrapping his arms around you. “I'll buy you something again, we have another business trip in Penacony.”

It makes you wonder, does he think gifts are the only thing that'll make you stay?

He could see the reluctance in your eyes, “Is something on your mind?”

You bit your lip, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

A deafening silence fills the room before he chuckles, he is everything but stupid. He knows, he knows you want to spend time with him, he knows you’d incinerate those gifts in a heartbeat just to trade even an hour spending time with him.

“Dear, I promise, next time,” he pressed light kisses on your exposed shoulder, but it isn’t enough: what truly is enough?

You want to push him away, with how ruthless he is with making empty promises so easily, “You said ‘next time’ last time.”

”I promise, I do.” Even he sounds unsure. You pick up on the hint of hesitation laced in his promises, he regrets it, but he thinks; he’s doing it for you, for the both of you.

“You said that too last month,” you scoff.

He tried to intertwine your fingers together yet to no avail, you rejected him, “Why are you acting up again?”

There’s only so many gifts can buy but he can never purchase the time lost that could’ve been spent in lazy mornings together yet he traded it all for credits. The second attempt, he forces a smile and even pulls a tiny ring for you, that gem you loved so much engraved in the centre. Words cannot express how much you despise these gifts because it was just a pathetic compensation for the neglect.

”Please, next month.” He took your hand in his and put the ring on your ring finger. “Okay?”

You cling to that possibility, to that sliver of hope when he is done with Penacony, he is relieved of his duties and he is finally free. That he no longer has to overcompensate for his absence and shower you with the time he’s lost.

You know next month won’t come, yet you are no different from a fool.

”Okay”

You wait upon endless tomorrows, two months have passed and none of his coworkers have any good news about his well-being. They’re sure he’s dead, but you still wait for that tomorrow where he is home to come.

Sunday

Love, what truly is love?

Is it when you praise your lover with endless ‘I love you’s?

Is it when you hold their hand and protect them for the impending doom to come?

or rather, is love just a fallacy built on a string of lies?

Sunday believes that he knows what’s best for you.

Before Sunday, you were allowed to make your own decisions.

Before Sunday, you actually had freedom.

The halovian swears he knows what’s best for you.

He makes sure everything you want or need, you get.

Sunday will kiss your tears away, even if he is the sole reason for them. ”It’s for your own good.” he says.

To strip you of freedom, to shackle you to him like a bird in a cage. His sweet kisses, his love, his everything; they’re all fucking poison. He does not hesitate to drown you in his poison if it means protecting you.

You cry out, “Sunday.” In desperate pleas.

But he will not listen, he’ll pretend he doesn’t hear anything.

He believes that if he gives you the taste of freedom, you’ll find a way to fly away from his grasp– he will not allow it. So he does what he’s best at, keeping you stuck to him.

”What do you want, dear?” He smiles at you like he’s never sinned.

You throw away the pathetic gifts he adorned you with, gold, diamonds and stones you could not name but they are not what you want, “I want to see my friends.”

”They’re no good, trust me.” Your friends once told you that you should go, that he’s toxic, but you were a fool to drown in him.

“What do you know about my friends?” He’s done everything to kill that flame inside of you, that hope that maybe one day you’d escape him and be free once again, you’re a fool, he thinks.

He clicks his tongue as he puts down his newspaper at the coffee table, ”They tried to take you away from me.”

”They did not, you know I would never leave you.” A blatant lie but it's stupid that you take him for a fool that’ll believe your words.

He only chuckles, your attempts to get away from him are futile, it’s pathetic it makes him laugh. “I admire your confidence, but you’re staying here tonight.”

Death has never been more alluring under his influence, but you can not die.

“Please,” you beg again, but he only presses his finger to your lips, “Shh…”

”One day you’ll thank me for taking such good care of you.” He gets down on his knees to kiss the back of your hand, “You’re safe here.”

He gets up to sit right next to you, he doesn’t flinch when you slap his face away when he tries to kiss you. The man only grabs your wrist when you try to push him away again. He kisses you with passion, in love but is it truly love when there is no trust?

There’s no use questioning his intentions, “This is for your own good.”

What good is there when there is no freedom? He thinks beautiful birds should be protected. Even if it meant being trapped in a cage, stripped of any sense of freedom, as long as you're safe, as long as you're here with him, he is content. "Dont give me that look."

Your eyes train on the way he rolls his eyes at your defiance, "Just let me go."

Sunday glares at you, his grip on your wrist tight, you're sure he's about to tear it off. "No."

When will you stop acting like a child?

The halovian is too far down the rabbit hole of self righteousness and his obsession with you that he if he needs to tear you limb by limb to keep you close to him, to keep you from rubbing away, he will do it.

His phone rings, it must be business calls again, Penacony sure is in a state of chaos when it's crumbling down. He lets go off you to take his phone.

"Yes yes... Sunday speaking."

You dont understand what they're murmuring about. All you could register is it's something about his sister.

His facial expression turned grim the more time he spent on the phone. The phone call ends and he puts it down, the life from his face drained but when he sees you, he is relieved.

You are still here with him.

He intertwined your hands together, you can feel anger and despair that he's exuding as he stares at you like a deer in the headlights. "Please, promise me."

"You'll never leave me too."

It doesn't sound like a question, it sounds like a statement.

You'll truly never know what freedom is, for that is only a privilege that you can never have. In his arms you cannot cry, because he'll drown you in his lies again and again.

On the bright side, you are never alone. You will always have Sunday, whether you like it or not.

Note: bye i got extreme writer's block at Sunday's part I had to take almost a 2 week break bc i rlly have no idea what to write for him oh my god. I absolutely did not give them justice 😥

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡

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ctrlhope · 1 day

Text

The Pitfalls of Silk (m)

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

p.jimin x f.reader

⋆𐙚┊: wc: 20.0k

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

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

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

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bang.

What the fuck was that?

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

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

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

Human.

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

The room, it freezes over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sees you before you see him.

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

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

Just as petrified as you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit he must be frozen solid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t notice the recognition on his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay.”

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

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

Mate. Mate. Mate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve fallen a lot farther than you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown.

“Min, I’m so sorry…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin makes it so easy to pretend.

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

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

You shake your head, “what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can.

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

You have to buy those glasses.

Being a spider is just too difficult!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least, that’s what he tells you.

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

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

It always works. Always will.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe you’re over thinking things.

Yeah. It’s probably that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll win it soon. August.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s what he promises to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Autumn is mating season.” Your thumbs stutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe they hated you and wanted you to suffer.

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

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

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

You think you might hate them.

You sigh.

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

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

“Mmm mm, got lucky with you Min.”

August 11th.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gorgeous, gorgeous you.

Mate.

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

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

Wait, does he have your love yet?

Now he isn’t sure.

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

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

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

Wait, spider.

Spider.

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

He hasn’t even presented his web yet.

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

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

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

He isn’t Taehyung. He isn’t Taehyung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hadn’t even noticed it.

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

Leave. Leave. Leave.

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

Leave. He needs to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are.

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

And so you do.

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

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

Shit.

He needs to leave.

Got carried away in his fantasy. In pretending again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re sick of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t. He never would.

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

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

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

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

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

You will always fall to the likes of Jimin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

He holds your hand as you walk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost want to curl up in it yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

You’re… you’re Jimin’s mate?

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

You’re an idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only him.

Only Jimin.

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

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

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

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

His spider is winning.

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

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

His spider has won.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tie you up. Breed full.

Breed you.

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

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

See exactly how you struggle against the strings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve both done enough waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

“Y/n! Hurry up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The human way is never easy for him.

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

“Hybrid’s do it different?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

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sweetiecakesss · 1 day

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Black Russian | Boothill (18+)

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Synopsis: What better way to pass the time on a slow business day than having sex in the bathroom with the universe's known criminal, Boothill.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇Tags: Boothill, Saloon Owner! Reader, Boothill has a cock, Blowjob, Bathroom Sex, Boothill's synthesia beacon isn't broken in this fic, No P n V just P n M, Gunplay.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇Note: Brainrot about Saloon Owner! Reader x Outlaw! Boothill and am creaming my pants---

The business was slow and quiet as you stood behind the counter with a neutral expression on your face, looking around the people that was seated on their respective seats. Some were already drunk to boot while other were still booming with energy as they watched the television as they chug their beers.

"Hey boss," Turning your head to face where the voice came, you raised your brows. "Am gonna get going now, can't let my woman wait." Orion, you're employee let out. You gave him a nod and a smile.

"Tell the misses I said hi." You let out to which Orion nodded, tipping his hat before he left the saloon, leaving you and the other drunkards in your establishment.

Everything was silent, until you heard the familiar ding of the bell by the door. A man---No, A Robot man entering your saloon. White and black hair flowing behind him, his hat covering his features, and with each stem you can hear metal clanking. You kept your eyes on him as he then made his way to the counter, sitting in front of you as he then removed his cowboy hat. Placing it on top of the counter.

As soon as he removed his hat, your eyes squinted at him as you moved your gaze to your left. Eyeing the wanted poster with the man's picture, a smirk creeping its way to your features as you just looked at him.

"A glass of Black Russian for me, sweetcheeks." The man let out, you looked at him as you moved to grab a small alcohol glass, placing it on the counter infront of him as you started pouring and mixing the drink in front of him.

"You got nice taste." You complimented as he took the well mixed drink and taking a sip before he looked at you and chuckling.

"I like em' strong," He let out, pausing as he took another sip. "The name's Boothill. And you are?"

You looked at him with an amused smile as you cleaned the things you needed to make his drink.

"I don't think telling a wanted man my name is a safe move…" You let out, Boothill looked at you surprised and amused as he let out a raspy chuckle as he placed his glass down on the counter, placing his arms on top of it as he leaned forward, tilting his head to the left.

"Don't be like that, Sweetheart. I ain't gonna bite…" He let out as his eyes roamed your features, scanning you from head and downwards before looking back up to meet your gaze. "Anyways, you've got my name already so why donn'cha tell me yours. Unless you want me to call you sweetheart for the rest of my stay here."

You looked at him amused. "It's Y/N." You let out.

He whistled. "Beautiful name. Suits ya'." He let out as he went ahead to take a sip of his drink once more before finally chugging it down and finishing his drink.

"So. Why is a pretty lil' thing like you work in a saloon?" He asked, his attention on yours as he looked at you with his sharp gaze. You looked at him as you raised your brows.

"If calling me pretty and endearments is your way to get free drinks outta me, I'd rather you not. Shit doesn't work on me." You let out. "And I own this saloon." You added to which Boothill let out another low whistle.

"Strong and Independent, yer just my type…How about that?" He let out as he gave you a smirk.

"I ain't interested." You replied, quickly dismissing his further advancements on you to which he just chuckled in response.

“Oh, c’mon.. You’re not gonna give me a single chance?” He then look around, looking around the place as he then lowered his tone of voice. “C’mon, darlin’. I haven’t had a pretty woman on my arm in ages. Least.. least not one that wasn’t tryin’ to shoot me or put me behind bars.”

You looked at him as you then placed the cloth over your shoulders, leaning forward; You placed your arms on the counter as you then tilted your head to the side.

"If you're looking for a prostitute, I ain't interested." you let out with a smirk. "You're a charming fellow but I ain't an easy one to grab, try your luck in a stripper club instead" you added. A low grunt escaped Boothill's lips as he cocked his eyebrow at you.

"I wasn't lookin' to buy yer services." He retorted as he chuckled. "Not yet, anyways."

"I just told you, I ain't a stripper." You let out as you stood back and crossed your arms over your chest, your brows furrowing at him. Boothill let out a raspy laugh as he ran his cold metallic fingers on his hair while looking at you.

"A Strong, Independent, Funny, and Pretty girl? Hah. How are you even Single…" He let out as he gave you a charming smirk. You looked at him intently as you then grabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring it onto his empty glass.

"Men tell me I'm insane that's why." You replied as you then grabbed the glass with vodka, chugging the drink down with one swift move before placing it down on the counter. A lipstick stain evident on the glass.

Boothill looked at the glass, eyeing the lipstick stain before he then grabbed the glass, holding it from the bottom as he then gave the mark you left on his glass a small kiss while his eyes remained on you. Making sure your eyes never left him for just even a second.

You stared at him in amusement as you then looked around, the quiet saloon still oh so quiet. Looking back at him, you dropped the things you were holding.

"It's a slow day…" You let out in a hum. "Meet me in the bathroom after a few…" You let out with a smirk before walking away and out the counter, your footsteps growing faint as you entered the bathroom.

Boothill made sure to eye you as entered the bathroom, looking away he chuckled to himself as he then moved and grabbed his hat before looking around and following pursuit, entering the bathroom.

You stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, across from him with your back against the wall. Boothill then closed the door behind him before locking it as he approached you, his cold hands holding onto your waist as he pulled you close to him.

"Mind telling me why you invited me in the bathroom?" He let out, humming as he moved his free hand up your body before holding onto your chin and making you look at him. Your gaze was on him as you then grabbed his wrist, opening your mouth you then pushed his fingers inside your mouth, lightly bobbing your head as you make eye contact with him.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" You let out murmured as you then let go of his fingers, your small hands placed on his chest as you gently guided him back until his back was finally against the door.

Your touch was enough to make Boothill shiver, his hands letting go of your waist as he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes meeting yours as he then moved his hand and placing them behind your head, intertwining his fingers with your hair before he then pulled you in a for a kiss.

You let out a hum of satisfaction as your lips finally clashed with his, your hands that was once on his chest, moved up as you grabbed tightly onto his collar. Gripping onto his clothes tightly as you chased his lips, the kiss deepening and messy as you made sure to not let him go. Your free hand moving down until it was now on his waist, holding onto him.

Boothill gasped with delight over the way you both kissed. It was rough and intense, both bodies pressed onto each other as he then let out a groan, his hand that was holding onto your hair moved and gripped onto it tightly, eliciting a moan escaping your mouth, making Boothill have access to more of you as he used his tongue, wrestling with yours.

"Gods…you taste so fucking sweet…" He murmured in between the kiss as he continued to chase the high that the two of you were feeling. You then let out a chuckle in between the kiss.

"I'm addicting…I know…" You slurred a reply as you slowly walked back, letting Boothill pushed his body onto you as he then pushed you against the sink. His hand then let's go of your hair before he grabbed onto the back of your thighs, holding onto you before he lifted you up and placed you on top of the counter.

Cold metallic hands holding tightly onto your thighs as you wrapped your legs around Boothill, his hips thrusting forward to feel the warmth in between your legs. Your pussy throbbing as he proceeded to grind his growing bulge onto you.

As the kiss went on, Boothill was too distracted at the feeling of kissing you and the wetness that was gradually forming in between your legs that he didn't notice the lightness of the gun holster on his waist. Briefly pulling away, both you and Boothill looked at each other in a daze before you gave him a smirk as you raised your hand and pointed the gun muzzle under his chin, making him tilt his head up and to the side as he looked at you surprised and a smirk.

"YOu fucking minx…" He let out as he then raised both his hands in the air.

"Must say, for someone who only seems like to be ninety percent human…You're packing.." You let as your free hand moved to cup the aching bulge in his pants as you made sure to look at him.

Boothill let out a grunt as he jolted his hips forward, chasing your touch.

"I was lucky to have them saved my dick, to be honest…" He let out in between groans, his words getting caught in his throat as you continued to palm him through his pants. You let out a chukle.

"Now what? You gonna' shoot me, Doll?" He let out a question while he kept his gaze on you. You let out a hum.

"I was gonna shoot your brains out but since this little fellow is being so charming…" You let out, pausing briefly as you unwrapped your legs around Boothill, your hand letting go of his crotch as you created a gap between you and him as you then stood on your own feet, guiding him against the wall as you then returned the gun in his holster before kneeling down in front of him. "I thought I'd give you a treat…" You added.

Boothill looked down at you with widened eyes as you skillfully unbuckled his pants, pulling it down and revealing his Cock. Despite being a robot, his cock stood lively as you stared at it. Pale in color with a slightly darkened tip.

Looking up at him, you gave his tip a small kiss before opening your mouth wide, taking the head in your mouth before pulling out again with a pop. Boothill groaned as he looked down at you, his hands reaching to hold onto your shoulders as he tried to push you away from his aching and throbbing cock.

"YOu don't want it?" You asked with a feign pout as your hands wrapped around his shaft, slowly moving it up and down as you gave his tip small pecks down to his shaft before finally reaching his hips.

"N-no…It's just that--Fuck…" Boothill let out as he looked at you, his grip on your shoulder tightening as he threw his head back, feeling your lips all over him.

You gave him a smirk as you then bit down on the flesh of his hip, leaving a mark before moving back and slapping his hardened cock on your face while still giving it kisses, giving it the love it deserves.

"Y/N…" Boothill moaned your name as he looked back down. "Jesus fucking christ just suck my cock already…" He groaned impatiently as his other hand moved to grab the back of your head and pulling onto your hair. As he pulled onto your hair, you can't help but let out a whimper as you looked up at him with a smirk.

"Impatient asshole…"You cussed at him as you tightened the grip around his cock, making boothill nearly fall onto the floor as leaned forward, cock throbbing in your hand as he let out shaky breaths of whimper.

Boothill stood up straight again as he glared at you, before he could even say something you just looked at him in amusement before swallowing in his cock, pushing him deep inside your throat. Boothill bit his lip to supress his groans, his entire body shaking from the pleasure.

All he could hear was gagging noises you made before you were pulling away from his cock, coughing as soon as you pulled away. Boothill looked back at you, his cock throbbing even more as he saw your mascara stained cheeks. A mix of his pre and your saliva dirpping down your chin.

"Fuck, so pretty…" He let out as he used his free hand to hold onto your neck, pulling you in for a soft kiss before letting go of you. You hummed as you let out a giggle before taking in his cock in your mouth one more time.

"Yeah, take me like that…" Boothill groaned as you bobbed your head, your moans adding an extra pleasure to him as the vibrations added a sensation of pleasure. His hands guiding you to move faster and deeper on him.

The bathroom was filled with Boothill's groans and grunts along with the sound of you gagging and slobbering all over his cock, at this point you were sure that whoever attempted to use the bathroom could hear what was going on inside.

"Wait--fuck, sweetheart…'m boutta cum…" Boothill let out in between grunts, you could only look up at him through your lashes as you continued to bob your head, your hand going to grip onto his balls, massaging them.

With one final bob of your head, Boothill pressed you down onto him, making you gag around his cock as he spilled all his cum down your throat. Pulling away, Boothill looked down at you.

"Jesus fuck…You look prettier this way, Doll…" He let out. You looked up at him as you stood up and swallowed his cum all while looking at him.

"You should cut down the Alocohol." You let out as you then headed towards the sink, turning on the faucet as you washed your make up and cum stained face. Boothill let out a chuckle as he then headed your way but before he could even hold you a loud knock resonated within the bathroom, grabbing both of your attention.

"Are you both done there!? I need to fucking pee!" A drunk man slurred from the otherside of the door. Turning off the faucet, you headed your way to the door. Opening it.

"Go pee somewhere else, This bathroom's out of order." You let out, staring down the man before slamming the door to his face, locking it as you turned to face Boothill.

Turning around, you started to unbuckle your belt as you then pushed your pants down. You then placed both your hands on the door, bending forward and exposing your dripping cunt to Boothill.

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna fuck me senseless?"

#mao {navigation}#honkai star rail #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr #boothill x reader #boothill #boothill smut #boothill x reader smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day

Text

Winter's King 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: have a good weekend.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stand, still uncertain. You look at the king as he tilts his face up to the moonlight. The silver sheen washes over him with an unearthly glow. He looks lupine, much like your dream.

“Your highness?” You echo again, hands curling around the sides of your skirt.

“Will you continue to disregard my order?” He challenges as his gold eyes meet yours. You wince at the way they shine.

“No, your highness, I am only...” you hush yourself and clamp your lips tight. You turn and search around, numbly walking along the curve of the pond.

He growls as you reach the line of hedges into the next walkway.

“You will want to go much faster than that,” he warns as you hear him stand. “I will allow you some advance...” He exhales as you glance back at him, “ten...” he stares at you, his figure shrouded in shadow from far away, “nine...”

You blanch and tumble backward through the gap. You spin and stagger on your soles, throwing your arms out as your heart pulses madly. Something about his timbre, about his words, has you alight. There is something amiss about him.

You push your legs against your skirts and hurry blindly into the nocturnal void. The moonlight seeps in around the silhouette of leaves as you keep your hands ahead of you to prevent a collision. You try to see through the dark, like silk across your eyes, making out little more than hazy orbs.

You crash into a thicket of thorns and pull away from the rosy bunch. Their scent clings onto you as you turn to the left and dive down the next path. You don’t know these gardens, not like Debray. For all you know, you’re going even deeper.

You hear a step behind you and swirl to face it. You squint, trying to see who is there. Is it the king? Do you want it to be? What does he mean to do when he catches you? What is the meaning of this game?

You plunge back into a sprint, puffing as you pump your arms. You whimper and whine as you slow, legs heavy and feet dull. Where are you going? You don’t like this. You remember a night like this before, how the cold dew of the forest crept up your legs, feet hitting the earth in quick succession, the holler of men and snort of horses behind you.

You stagger and spin back. No, you can’t run anymore. You don’t like this. You don’t like those thoughts. That last night before you were taken to Debray, before you dawned the cap of your bearing. That orphan girl running from servitude.

You walk forward, shaking as you peer back and forth. You wade through the thick grey air. You hear a twig snap and a bush rustle, each noise from a different direction. Perhaps it is a rabbit or a chipmunk. You sniffle and wring your hands.

You must find the king. You will surrender this game and ask that he takes you back to the castle. You trudge over the beaten path and hear the soft trickle ahead. It must be the pond. The silver light blooms brighter as you come upon a space in the hedges.

Suddenly, there is only air beneath your feet. You kick out as something rigid wraps around your waist and lifts you. You wriggle desperately and cry out, your eyes tinging but not overflowing. Your fear has you clawing at the hold around your middle.

“Please, please, don’t hurt me!” You plead as you flail, “please, sir, I’ll go back to the castle--” you choke as the grasp on you slackens but your feet still do not meet the ground. You quiet as you recall your present, that you are not in that forest, that you are far from Debray.

You are sat upon the bench, the silver moon gleaming down on you as it outlines the broad shadow before you. King Geralt faces you, kneeling as you tremble and hug yourself. You put your head down in shame.

“Apologies, your highness, I was lost,” you reach to rub your cheek, flicking back your tears with your lashes, “I got confused.”

“No, it is I who should apologise, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he takes your hand between his big ones, “I only meant to make some fun.” He brushes his touch up your arms and squeezes as you drop your hand to your lap, “little maid, did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “I was only... delirious. It is too dark out here. I cannot see,” you bite down and look away, “apologies, I did act out.”

“Little maid,” he tickles along your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine, “I would not let you get lost or hurt.” He tilts his hand to cradle your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “what was it you were running from in your head? Who?”

“No one,” you lie. “Just a memory.”

“Memories are not just that,” he insists, “but I understand how they can hurt. Forgive me, treasure, I wasn’t--”

“Your highness,” the sullen voice has the king recoiling. He quickly plants his foot and stands. You rise as well, toying with that word he called you. Treasure. “The queen sends for you.”

Bryce steps out into the moonlight. You look at him then the ground. How long had he been there? How much had he heard?

“The queen,” King Geralt grumbles, “what is it she wants? It is late--”

“She would not say and I would not guess,” Bryce says, “but she screams for it. Like a yowling cat.”

The king sighs and lowers his head. He squares his shoulders and resets his posture. He steps away from you and gestures to his soldier. The king twists around and marches away. Bryce falls into pace with you as you follow. He is silent, you all are.

You approach the castle, guards lurking in the shadows, and are let past the front doors by a sombre pair. Inside, you follow the king through the great hall and up the stairs. You peek over at Bryce as you proceed down the corridor. He gently squeezes your wrist, just briefly, and carries on.

“Your highness,” Bryce speaks as you hear a racket ahead of you; screeching and crashing. “Should I escort the maid back to her chambers?”

“Cursed woman,” King Geralt mutters as he slows, Queen Jazlene’s door just ahead. He pauses and looks over his shoulder, “the cost of a kingdom...”

“Your highness?” Bryce prompts once again.

You echo him and step forward, “I could calm her. Bring some wine--”

“No, she will have no more of that,” the king declares sharply. “I wed her, I put my name next to hers, so it is I shall attend to her. Sir,” he looks at Bryce, “do as you suggest, put the maid in her chambers and I will put the queen in her place.”

“Aye, your highness,” Bryce bows his head and points you back, “come, maid, the night wears on.”

You glance up at the king. His golden eyes are wrought as his gaze holds yours for only an instant. You see the hesitation bob in his throat before he turns away. You mirror him and follow Bryce back along the corridor.

As you climb to the next floor and continue down another corridor, Bryce slows. He stops as he gets to the door and faces you. He takes a breath as he looks you up and down.

“It’s treacherous here in the summer kingdom,” he says, “but that will not change on the road. Mouse, you keep yourself well.”

“Thank you, sir, I am fine.”

“Aye, you do not take my meaning but you do not take the king’s either,” he puts his hand on his belt, “his favour might do you fine in this moment, but it is dangerous. Let not others notice so they may not envy it.”

You grimace and shake your head, “what do you mean?”

“Your little games do not need an audience. It is no tournament.”

Your chest sinks and your skin speckles. Is he accusing you of something?

“I... I haven’t done anything untoward. I would not, sir--”

“You may not,” he intones, “but we are all ruled by the will of the king.”

“Sir, the king is married to Lady Jazlene--”

“And we both see how they fare,” he states bluntly. “Carry my words with you, do with them as you may, but I could not leave them unsaid.”

Your eyes gloss and your nose tingles once more. He’s mad. Truly, he can’t think you and King Geralt. A maid and her master.

“I would not,” you repeat.

He huffs and nods curtly. He turns to the door and unlatches it, “go, rest your head while you can.”

“Sir Bryce--”

“I am bid protect you by the king,” he pushes the door inward and rests his hand on the frame, “not from him.” He looks past you, as if through, “little mouse, I do hope I am wrong as well but I know better than to depend on that.”

You shudder and tug at the end of your sleeve. You slump and drag your feet through the doorway. You stop, just inside, “good night, sir.”

He grunts and pulls the door shut. Your lip trembles as your heart races, just as it did in the garden. He is wrong. He must be. You saw yourself how the king is trying, he even said it was the queen he meant to game with earlier. It was only that she was too unwell. He said it!

And he goes to the queen’s chamber that night. He is not there. He has not been disloyal. The matter is not your concern. You serve wine, you lace gowns, you braid hair. You are only the maid.

⚔️

You return to the queen’s service the next morning. The world is a bit more familiar as you help her into her gown and twine her hair into an elaborate coif. Servants pass in and out of her chambers as they prepare for the royal party’s imminent departure.

“Why can we not keep this capital?” Queen Jazlene whines, “but my husband does insist on return to his frigid homelands.”

You say nothing as you sift through the old monarch’s jewelry chest. You present to her successor each gem, brooch, and chain. She has yet to turn any away though you wonder if there would be room in her already bustling luggage. Perhaps the cart will be a touch more crowded on your ride north.

“And yet my husband did come to me,” she boasts, “I think... hmm, well, perhaps this marriage won’t be so turbulent.”

You show her a cuff and she snatches it. She puts it on her wrist, turning her arm this way and that, as she oohs and aahs. She wiggles excitedly.

“I recall this piece. One year, when I came with father to court, the queen wore this cuff. You see the emeralds. I remember she was so proud of it even though all the court knew it was only gifted to her by her husband to distract from his mistress,” she trills, “oh, how foolish. But the old queen was so boring. It is a wonder the king didn’t dispose of her, who can blame him for taking an amour?”

She sighs and looks at the mirror, “and she wasn’t half so pretty as me.”

You remain silent, continuing to sort with her endless approval. You don’t think there is a single trinket she could ever turn away. You don’t see the need for so many of the same thing. Some stones are brighter than others but why not keep the brightest and do away with the rest.

“As I was saying,” she goes on, “last night when the king came to me, he was... almost meek. That man. Can you imagine? I admit I was distraught after the day I suffered but he listened and we spoke.” She strokes her fingers as she admires her oval nails. “There are some southern lords who will come north as well, some northern to stay behind. He says it will help us acquaint the two kingdoms into one.”

She drops her hands and pushes her shoulders straight, “he is wise. I suppose I should heed him if I am to be a good queen.”

You are want to agree but to do so aloud may be taken as insult. She might have done it sooner and saved herself some trouble. Yet it isn’t your place and you haven’t the wisdom of a queen. You’re merely a servant.

“Once I give him an heir, he will have to listen to me too. Yes, I will do what mother could never. Give my husband a son,” she drags her hand to her midsection, “I think last night...” she flutters her lashes dreamily. Her suggestion makes you squirm. Her and the king’s relations are hardly your concern. “It was better,” her voice is brittle, “even if...” she peers around and clamps her lips. She narrows her dark eyes, “close the door.”

You obey. You come back to her and return to your previous task. She reaches in to pluck out a string of pearls.

“He puts me on my stomach,” she whispers, almost as if she thinks you won’t hear, but she is speaking to you. There is no one else in the room. Perhaps she is only embarrassed that she has only to the courage to tell a maid. “And he behind me so I can’t see him and... he can’t see me but... but if he could...” she toys with the pearls, “if he’d just look at me, he might like it better.”

You lift a pair of medallions earrings and she ignores them. She tosses the pearls back in the chest and stands. You back away.

“He won’t let me touch him otherwise,” she mulls as she paces. “But he is warming. It is early, isn’t it? And compared to the first night... I don’t know. It will get better. It must.”

She quiets and stands by the window. Her anxiety is palpable. It’s uncharacteristic. You’ve never seen her uncertain of anything yet you can understand it. She is soon to set off to a new life and to brave a long road. When she reaches her destination, she will be a true queen. When you get there, you’ll still be a maid.

“I’ll go to him tonight,” she says and raises her head, “yes, yes, I will go to him and try again.” She spins and smirks at her grand idea, “maid, I must find something to wear for him. Well, nothing very much,” she remarks coyly, “but I will need a robe. Yes, I saw a satin one in the queen’s closet.” She swallows and stands as straight as she can, “my closet.”

You diligently cross the chamber and search the wardrobe. You find a white satin robe stitched with gold and silver. You turn to show the queen. She giggles and claps her hands.

“Wine,” she says, “I must find some courage too.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the witcher #series #au #medieval au #winter's king

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whiskeyghoul · 1 day

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She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!reader] Pt.4

first chapter, previous chapter, next chapter

A/N: We are back again with another part! This one is a first, real, date with Spencer. I know the timeline of the museum doesn’t check out but let’s pretend it does. I think museum dates are the cutest and would love a Spencer who can info dump while walking around a museum. Also please enjoy this setup to some more conflict hehe. Please reblog when you do enjoy to help spread the fic, it is greatly appreciated.

WC: 2,8K

Tags: Fluff, goth reader, alt reader, pure fluff, first date, museum date, spencer reid, two idiots in love.

Warnings: None.

Your pov

“Do you want to go to a museum with me this weekend?” Spencer asked while he sat in the desk chair in your lab. You looked up from the stereo microscope, a little surprised by the question. Spencer had been taking his breaks there the entirety of the week, keeping you company as you worked or having lunch together. He’d brought you coffee about 3 out of the 4 times he had joined you. A very welcome gift during the long shifts you worked. You would have lunch together sometimes too. Eating, talking, getting to know each other a little better.

“What museum?” You asked with a smile, it would be a real date, outside of the confines of Quantico. “The national museum of natural history has opened a new hall about ocean life and conservation… I was hoping to go see it this weekend. If you want to come along.” He was looking hopeful, although a little nervous. Like he had been wanting to ask this for a while and had a certain fear of your answer. As if you could say no to him.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” You answered, watching as Spencer’s lips curved up into a smile. The focus on his lips jolted you back to the memory of a few days ago. When he had crowded you, looking like he was going to kiss you. Something in his expression changed to a certain level of possession. So close you couldn’t look away from him. The way his fingertips had brushed your skin so gently, it had been on your mind for the entire rest of the day. A little disappointed he hadn’t tried again. Then again there hadn’t been a similar moment. “Great, should I pick you up?” Spencer’s voice shook you out of your thoughts. He seemed excited now, you could see him biting the inside of his lip, keeping from fully grinning. “If you wouldn’t mind that. I could send you my address.” You spoke and he nodded his head in return, “I don’t mind at all.” He spoke a little softer than before. You smiled in turn and went back to your work.

It was Saturday morning when Spencer picked you up from your apartment. You had thought about changing your outfit about 6 times but finally decided it wasn’t worth it to change that many times. You had put on one of your better dresses, just a casual black with a nice flowy thigh length skirt with layers of black, ripped tights. Creating some flair with a multitude of accessories. Because it could be a long day you decided comfort was necessary. When you opened the door you saw his bright smile, watching as his eyes scanned down to take in the outfit. “Hey.” His voice was a little breathy. “Hey.” You returned with a smile. “My uh-” He swallowed looking a little nervous which was adorable to you. “My car is out front. Want to go?” He asked and you nodded your head.

His car, a cream volvo, was a little worn down but somehow you had expected that. Spencer seemed like the kind of person who would hold on to something until it falls apart. He walked around, opening the door for you and helping you in. There were two cups in the center console. The car smelled of coffee and a little like vanilla. “Thank you.” You said as you buckled yourself into your seat. Spencer smiled and closed the door, you watched him awkwardly walk around the car quickly to get into the driver's seat. “You ready?” He asked while turning the key, the engine coming to live with a little bit of a sputter. “Yep, ready. You brought coffee?” You spoke as Spencer looked around for him to pull out of the apartment complex parking lot. “Yeah, thought you might want some. It might be a long day.” He said before fixing his eyes on the road. “Thank you.” Your voice sounded soft as you looked at him, taking the coffee cup closest to you and taking a sip.

There was soft music playing over the car radio. Turned low enough for you to have a conversation but loud enough to fill any silences with comfortable sweet tones. It was mostly instrumental, which given Spencer’s history teacher-esque appearance was to be expected. His focus on the road gave you ample opportunity to let your eyes roam over his face. His profile was somewhat striking, he really was handsome. His hair curling at the back of his neck, not being able to stay slicked down by whatever products he used. You wondered what it would look like if he just let it curl naturally.

“What do you want to see most?” You asked and it caused Spencer to perk up slightly, he quickly looked over to you before returning his gaze to the road. “Well, there is a lot. I heard they have quite a large coral reef tank that is supposed to be modeled after an indo pacific reef ecosystem. I think that or the ocean systems exhibit. They have a massive 360 display with narration and it shows the complex aspects of the ocean and how it interacts with the atmosphere.” You thought you could possibly listen to him explaining everything in the museum if he wanted to. Hours on end to listen to his voice. “But there is also the first ever display of an adult coelacanth and a pup. They are considered living fossils by some, it will be so exciting to see the differences between adults and young ones.” He sounded so enthralled with the idea of everything he was going to see. His excitement only works to fan your own excitement. “I can’t wait to see them with you.” You said and Spencer once again turned to flash you his wonderful smile.

When you entered the museum you walked past the elephant in the entrance hall ready to head to the ocean hall. It was crowded, yet so incredibly beautiful. With the whale model hanging from the ceiling. Along with jellyfish that seemed a little whimsical. Through the middle ran a display with different sea creatures and their descriptions. Along the sides were similar displays. You felt a hand slide into yours, gently holding it and you looked up at Spencer. “Is this okay? I don’t want to lose you in the crowds.” He said as you watched the flush blossom on his cheeks. You interlaced your fingers with his, the size of his hand perfectly encapsulating yours, it was warm and so soft. “Perfectly fine.” You said and stood just a little closer to him. Together you traversed the displays, walking past different deep sea creatures, Spencer sometimes stopping to tell you something exciting he knew about the animal. You in turn try to surprise him with facts you knew, which he would smile at.

Once you saw the coelacanth and the giant squid you moved to the reef aquarium. Watching as fish would lazily swim by, or some of the corals moved with the current inside of the tank. You stood there, watching it together, so incredibly close that you rested your head on his shoulder. Feeling the warmth that radiated from him. Listening to him read out the information next to the tank was a wonderful experience. “Do you want to move on to the ocean system exhibit? It is supposed to restart every few minutes.” Spencer eventually asked. You tilted up your head to look at him. Catching him looking at you and your eye contact felt just a little electric. Those deep, soft, brown eyes. “Lead the way, pretty boy.” You smiled and saw something in his eyes change for just a second. His cheeks flushing once again.

Squeezing your hand a little tighter he pulled you along to the room containing the ocean system exhibit. The room was dimmed, there were seats lined up in a circle around the big globe that hung from the ceiling. It seemed to have already started as you came in, lights projected on it to show the earth and its oceans. Spencer pulled you along to one of the curved couches. There wasn’t a lot of space but he managed to find somewhere to sit. You squeezed in next to him, your thigh touching his, your hips close to him. His cologne was overwhelming like this, being so close in the dimly lit space felt intimate. Even with all the other people around. You felt his thumb rub over the back of your hand gently. A voice rang out over the speakers, starting to explain the ways of the ocean accompanied by music. You listened intently while watching the globe and the moving images projected onto it.

Spencer shifted besides you and you suddenly felt his breath fanning next to your face, his lips close to your ear. It made your cheeks flush, your heart rate picked up along with it. Waiting in anticipation for what he was going to say. “Did you know there is enough salt in the ocean to cover the entirety of the earth. It would be 500 feet thick if it would cover it in one layer.” He whispered the fact and it made you hold back a soft giggle. The moment had felt so intimate all for him to whisper one of his crazy knowledge facts. You turned your head to look him in the eyes, those brown puppy eyes looking at you with a hint of confusion. “Here I thought you were going to say something romantic.” You whispered, tone light and teasing. You watched Spencer flush, a hint of embarrassment as his eyes looked away from yours for a moment. “Sorry.” He apologized, you could see from his movement, the way his thumb stopped massaging the back of your hand, that he felt a sudden regret. “Don’t be. I still liked it anyway.” You whispered, the tip of your nose bumping against his. You felt him exhale in a short burst, like it had been a short gasp he tried to hide, or a certain surprise at the contact. A little rush of electricity ran through your body. A little voice in the back of your head urging you to kiss him.

“You did?” Spencer asked. You softly hummed your answer, tilting your head a little to angle your nose away from his. “Is this okay?” you asked and now it was his turn to hum a soft “mh-hm” which sounded so delicate, almost inaudible over the sound of the projection. Still, all your senses were attuned to him in that moment. You wanted to say something before closing the short distance between you but Spencer was one step ahead. He gently pressed his lips against yours, moving his free hand quickly to hold you in place. The size of his hand easily cupping your neck, keeping you close to him. The feeling made you melt into him, eyes fluttering closed as a soft sigh escaping through your nose. You finally got the kiss you have been craving for days. His lips still had the lingering taste of coffee, but with that sugary sweetness to it. It was a wonderful feeling that ended all too soon in your mind. When his lips left yours you tried to chase them. Not wanting to lose the feeling.

His chuckle made you open your eyes, realizing the lights had turned on and the once dimmed room had become substantially brighter. “That was nice.” Spencer voiced it softly but no longer in a hushed whisper. He had your lipstick on his lips which made your heart flutter ever so slightly. You raised your free hand, slowly wiping at the dark red stain to get it off. “Yeah, it was.” You said while touching his lips. His hand left your nape, taking your wrist gently and holding your hand still. He pressed a soft kiss to your thumb as he held eye contact. Breath hitching you didn’t know what to do. “Ehm… do you want to grab something to eat? At the cafe?” You stumbled over your words. “I would love a cinnamonroll.” Spencer said, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips. Yet you could tell there was a hint of giddiness there for him.

When he let go of your wrist it was like your body remembered how to move again. You stood up, glad the platforms under your shoes were solid, giving some stability to your slightly weakened knees. If you told your 17 year old self a guy who wore cardigans would have you weak in the knees you would have laughed. Spencer held out his hand which you gladly took. He led you to the café where you settled with a drink and something to eat before heading back into the museum. Wandering around past the different exhibits. Hand in hand.

When Spencer dropped you off back home later in the evening than expected you were absolutely giddy. He'd stopped on the way home to grab a bite to eat and you had been engrossed in conversation with each other. After that he asked you to put on the music you enjoyed, stating that ‘you've put up with his music, and I've quite liked what you played at the lab.’ which was a sweet sentiment. You were lucky to have memorized the only station that played the bands you loved. So the last half of the ride was spent with the cure, bauhaus, Depeche mode and many others as the background noise to your conversations. When Spencer parked in front of the apartment building you felt a little reluctant to leave. This had been the best date in years, well… the best and realest date you've had. “Thank you, for today, I loved it.” You spoke up as Spencer looked at you. He smiled that same smile again, the shy one, where he looked like he wanted to bite his lip to stop from saying something he normally wouldn't. “I enjoyed it too. I'm glad I asked you to come along.” His brown eyes lingered on yours. Keeping eye contact made the car feel incredibly small for a moment.

You unbuckled your seatbelt before turning, leaning over the center console and pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. This time it was your turn to initiate it. His hands quickly managed to find their way to your nape again. Sliding up and into your hair. You moved so your left knee was perched on your seat. Your right hand softly cupping his cheek, the light scratch of a day old shave beneath your fingers. Parting your lips slightly, an invitation for him to take it further. When his lips moved with yours, a delicate dance that made goosebumps erupt on your skin. You wanted to be closer, to push your body against his but the damn center console was in the way.

When you pulled away from Spencer you watched his tongue dart out to taste his lips with a small breath. Smiling slightly, you bit the inside of your cheek, “I’ll see you on Monday at work.” you said and gave him a peck on the lips. He nodded his head yes, letting go of you, “I will text you tomorrow.” He said. You smiled at that. Remembering how Penelope mentioned his distaste for texting. You reached for the car door. “Wait.” Spencer spoke up which surprised you. You looked back to be faced with his pleading eyes. “One more?” he asked, “Please?” he added with a small smile. You rolled your eyes gently, before leaning back and giving just another small kiss.

This time when you opened the passenger door he didn’t stop you. Once you stepped out you gave another little wave before closing the door. You rushed up the steps to the complex door and turned back to wave at Spencer as you walked in, watching as he pulled out of the parking lot. When you reached your apartment floor you were still on cloud nine. Dreamily walking down the hallway to your front door. When you did turn the corner and your eyes landed on your front door. A little bag sat on the floor beneath your door clink. A wave of unease washed over you. A nauseous feeling settling in your stomach. You knew exactly who it was from. How they got into the building, no clue, but this definitely was the work of the one person you confidently could say you hate. Your ex.

Tag list: @luvkatryna @emma-e-a @littlemadamred @cultish-corner @styleiconsize0 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @depressedbutartsy @mikariell95

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #alt reader #goth reader #she blinded me with science #tumblr writer #museum date fic #part 4

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tatterings · 8 hours

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Art by @solmesia - Go give him love!

Caressed by Claws - A BG3BigBang fic

AO3 LINK HERE

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin

Rating: Explicit (Lots of smut & a little plot)

Tags/warnings: 18+, monsterfucking, werebear halsin, trans astarion, Halsin eats pussy like a man dying of thirst in a desert, creampies, breeding kink, knotting

Word count: 9,966

Also fic pasted below :3c

Silvanus never spoke to Halsin in an audible way. Not like how he would converse with his mate Astarion, or even swap stories with the wildlife of Faerun. Despite this, the Oak Father found other ways to pass his intentions, blessings, and commandments onto the druid - through dreams, urges, and signs. And during his three centuries of life, Halsin had experienced the calling of his god many times.

Halsin had been experiencing all three phenomena as of late, while helping Baldur's Gate recover after the intense battle with the Netherbrain. His dreams and instincts were vivid and raw, the signs from Silvanus appearing during his daily work; he'd volunteered to help rebuild the city's parks. He included the requirement that they would be expanded, with a special area reserved for children to be able to romp and play, allowing city-goers a larger green space in which to commune with nature. While the parks, with their sapling trees and spindly wildflowers blooming in the wind, was no vast wood like he was used to, it was better than nothing. Especially for a battle-ravaged town that was actively being rebuilt.

Though the work was tiresome, fully exhausting his spell power and even his physical bulk and muscle each day, the druid could not find inner peace. He was restless, aching with the impulse to roam, to explore. An urge so deep and carnal that Halsin understood it had to be yet another sign from the Oak Father… but stronger. A sign of which he had no choice but to take heed. He decided to take a break from his rebuilding duties, with Astarion supportive and encouraging him to do whatever "dancing-with-bears-rituals” that he needed to do.

With his lover's blessing, Halsin set out and began to roam the craggy wilderness surrounding Baldur's Gate. It took weeks for him to feel another sign, as the days passed and the moon went from waning, to new, to waxing. It was an internal sign, a heat from within that could only mean that his bear side - animalistic, raw, hungry , was growing stronger. It had become easier for him to call upon it, to have his fingernails elongate and his hair run down his back, turning into a pelt as he fell on all fours to shift into wildshape. He found himself wandering for days on end in bear form, rather than elven form, feeling more at home and "in his own skin" when digging his claws into the wet clay of the earth, or using his nimble lips to pluck ripe berries from the bushes. He spoke to Silvanus mentally and spiritually, even in this form, pleading for some answer to the unsettling feeling he'd wrestled with since they'd defeated the Netherbrain.

In his day-to-day life, pre-Netherbrain, pre-adventuring, pre-self-imposed spiritual exile, Halsin had always battled with his bear side for control. Whether in fits of rage, or in the heat of passion, he felt the throbbing of his head (or other regions) announcing the presence of the Bear deep within him, clawing to be free. Astarion had been most gracious whenever he had lost control of his ursine side, including on their first sexual encounter. The vampire had also giggled heartily when Halsin ripped apart foes in battle after the bloodshed necessitated his wildshape. And yet, Halsin still felt a sense of shame when his control was weak and his inner bear called hungrily to him.

On the first full moon out of Baldur's Gate, Halsin felt the calling even more deeply. The urge to shift into bear form, to slip into the comfort of fur and claws and teeth, was as tempting to him as a tall glass of cold honey mead, as comforting as the warmth of the bedcovers he shared with Astarion. But Halsin felt he had to resist. And to resist, he had to focus intensely on the present, the now, and on his current state. He realized that needed to listen to the bear; not to succumb blindly to it.

He settled in the middle of a clearing of birch trees, lowering himself to the damp moss that cushioned his large frame. The druid crossed his legs, laying his palms facing upwards on his knees. He closed his eyes, and listened. A mild wind, just enough to stir the leaves and brambles within the clearing, passed through the wood. The rustle of squirrels died down, as though they paused their hopping through the underbrush and barking amongst the treetops.

Before him in the blackness of his own eyelids he saw flashes of spirits, the sparkle of magic. He wanted to see, to open his eyes and behold the motes of light firsthand, but could not let himself disconnect now, from this place of intense focus. He felt himself float upward, almost as though he were sitting in a tree high above. But it was not his body that floated, merely his consciousness - he thought, assuming it was some form of astral projection. Meditation, and crossing into a spiritual realm, was a finicky magic at best. Though he was blessed by Silvanus and able to do so relatively at will, the planes of existence were still difficult to traverse, even to the former Arch Druid. He couldn't recall any time during the past 300 years in which he had experienced a similar sensation, of incorporealness, of his physical form feeling foreign and "separate".

Although the transcendent out of body experience was new to Halsin, spiritual beings and energies were quite familiar, and the air crackled around the clearing with the energy bestowed upon them by the full moon and the elf's druidic power. Below, he saw the sparkles of energy materialize from the shadows, and lumber over to his corporeal form. If his spirit-self could breathe, his lungs would have stopped inhaling and exhaling. The energy, now in the form of a gigantic bear, much larger than his normal wild shape, sniffed about his body below. His body still sat cross-legged, deep in the meditative state. Even in his projected form, though, the druid could sense the raw energy materializing within the clearing, emanating from the bear as it padded slowly in a circle

You have kept me from fully awakening, druid, the bear said, its energy crackling as its thoughts manifest in Halsin's mind. Halsin wasn't sure whether it was telepathy or just through just a feeling , but he understood the intent of the bear, as it padded in a path around him. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling - it rather felt quite like when he would mumble to himself whenever he assessed patients, or when he had read aloud from dusty tomes in the Emerald Grove's library. It almost felt as though he was talking to himself when speaking with this bear. Halsin saw his body's eyelids twitch, his head nod slightly, and heard, despite his body's lips not moving, his response.

"I have. It has always been difficult to control the beast within." He had embarrassingly morphed into a bear on more than one occasion with Astarion. Vivid memories flashed in his mind: as the heat of their passion settled into his loins, he had lowered himself on all fours above the vampire only to find that his hands on either side of his lithe frame had turned to paws. Astarion had always taken it in stride, in good-natured teasing at the most. He took it as a compliment that Halsin could hardly control himself during their lovemaking. However, it was not something upon which the druid enjoyed dwelling. He saw this loss of control as a weakness in him.His rumination was interrupted by the echoing of the bear's words in his mind, reverberating between his ears like the dripping of water hitting the bottom of a cavern.

But why control what has been gifted to you by the Oak Father? There is balance in the loss of control, as well. To always remain in control is not a natural state. Do you believe that nature is something that can be directed and commanded at anyone's whim? Even one blessed by Silvanus?

"That may be so, wise one," Halsin readily admitted. Astarion had often taken over in their lovemaking, directing Halsin's movements, his touches, sometimes even his breaths. Halsin felt goosebumps rise on his skin at the thought. What relief it always was to him, when he did not have to control himself, and he could relax and follow the directions of his lover. But again, that was a form of control, to be subject to the whims of the little vampire. "However, it is a risk to those I care for and to others if I do not reign in the…animalistic tendencies," he finished.

There was a long silence as the energy seemed to die down, although the ursine form below was still present. It had stopped in front of Halsin’s body, and shifted its weight from paw to paw, its magical breath exhaled in what seemed like puffs of fog. The fog settled around his cross-legged body below, wafting over the soft moss surrounding him.

Perhaps then, a bargain? The spirit bear asked. Its hulking frame was imposing even though it was immaterial. Were it a physical being, despite that he regularly spoke with animals including the wildest of bears, Halsin was positive he could not have remained so calm. You are quite dear to the Oak Father, a true steward of nature. It behooves you to fully accept the gift of wild shape.

Halsin did not respond; or, he realized, could not respond, for he felt somewhat dizzy at the idea of being held so dear by the Oak Father. He merely waited, both in his meditative, projected form, and his large body below, bathed in the light of the full moon. With how bright the moon shone upon him, he seemed almost as pale as the bear. He could not find a reason to disagree with the spirit; any gift Silvanus could bestow upon him should be graciously and fully received. And yet… he was filled with trepidation. He had made a fool and a beast of himself enough times in the past purely by accident. But to embrace that possibility?

I can give you respite for most days . In exchange that once a month, you free me - fully - without holding back.

Halsin's mind raced with the implications, and he sat in silence for many minutes, but the bear was in no hurry. It merely paced slowly around his body, facing towards him the entire time. It said nothing - just watched. And waited.

"The full moon?" Halsin felt himself ask, though no words crossed his lips. He saw his body below him shift only slightly, as though squirming with discomfort. The full moon was predictable, at least, so he knew when the bear would come "without holding back", whatever that meant. But what would happen when it did? His mulling was interrupted by the spirit's response.

Indeed, for the veil between realms is thinnest at the moon's peak. The moon affects the tides of Faerun, the minds of the unwell and magic-sensitive, and also the energy and magic of your bond with me. Once per month, you will become truly one with the Bear.

It was a heartbeat. It was a decade. Halsin could not tell, could not know, how much time had passed. For the bear had stopped moving again, and simply faced his body, sitting on its gigantic haunches. Halsin's meditative astral form did not move on its own. Rather, it felt itself pulled towards his body, almost as if he were made of magnetic material and his body were true north.

Halsin did not need to speak his acceptance verbally to agree to the deal. He would acquiesce to this compromise with the Bear. With himself. With Silvanus. It only took the thought of his acceptance to mark his agreement.

The bear, sparkling with spiritual energy as though it were a ghost, bared its teeth in what could only be interpreted as satisfaction. It lowered its head, stepping forward, and seemed to melt within Halsin's body like snowflakes on skin. As it melded into him, within him, Halsin shifted from his cross-legged position to all fours, as if by instinct. The soft moss cushioned his fingertips. Then soon, his claws.

In a mere moment he had changed, much more quickly than his normal wild shape transformation. And he was large, much larger than his normal cave bear form, which would seem a mere yearling cub to his bulk now. Halsin sniffed the air, the ground, his wet nose wrinkling as he picked up so many alluring scents, trails to follow, to hunt . To mark his territory, his territory, no one else's, no bear nor elf or creature. The full moon above bathed his gigantic, furry body in silvery light until he disappeared into the strand of birches and his presence was only a low growl rumbling from the shadows.

Astarion had been impatiently awaiting Halsin’s return, hungry for his partner both proverbially and literally. Halsin was willing to provide his daily meals; and just as eager to sate his desire for intimacy. The vampire had not gone hungry with his mate away, having fed on beasts from the bush surrounding the camp. But he missed his beast, how the warmth from Halsin's body heat, always turning their bedroll into a furnace. How he could make even their temporary camp feel like a home. After a few weeks, even the bedroll and its furs had begun to lose Halsin's scent of honey and basil.

Halsin had decided to return to him in the evening, when he knew that Astarion would be awake and probably fussing over his mending, or hunched over some dusty tome. Astarion was indeed thumbing absentmindedly through a novel in front of the campfire, nestled on top of a cushion he had dragged from his tent. Halsin's arrival was announced by his soft footfalls, shuffling across the cobblestone path surrounding their camp. Astarion's sensitive hearing could pick up that walking pattern anywhere, and the vampire automatically rose to his feet. The book fell from his hands and dropped to the ground, an act that would normally have Astarion wincing in horror and uttering an oath. But the importance of not wrinkling pages or smearing ink paled in comparison to the importance of seeing his Halsin.

"My heart," Halsin said, his voice low and heavy with affection. He stepped forward to receive his lover right as Astarion leapt into his embrace. The vampire wrapped his slender arms around Halsin's neck, burying his face into the druid's chest. "I missed you too, Astarion," Halsin continued, inhaling deeply into the pale elf's silver curls. Bergamot and rosemary, a tinge of aged brandy. A mixture of aromas that brought deep comfort to Halsin any time he caught a whiff.

Astarion pulled away from Halsin's chest, but remained solidly in the druid's embrace. He stood on tiptoes and craned his neck to meet Halsin's soft hazel gaze. "Next time you need to find yourself darling, do try to do so faster ," Astarion said, his words bouncing with playfulness and half-serious whining. His lips were full and pushed into a pout. Halsin couldn't resist the urge to take them into his own, and kissed Astarion softly. Slowly. Their lips barely brushing together, and just a tentative flick of the druid's tongue on Astarion's bottom lip.

Surprise caused Astarion to pull from the kiss first. He had anticipated that Halsin would devour him the moment they reunited, and had satisfied himself many of the nights alone while daydreaming of the various ways in which Halsin would take him. So for the druid to meet his lips with such… caution, tenderness… rather than his typically ravenous hunger was disconcerting.

"My love, whatever is the matter?" the vampire asked, swaying slightly side to side, causing the larger elf to shift in place as well. Halsin gazed down at him, his eyes flashing golden - from the fire, Astarion concluded. "Surely you're pleased to be back with m-" His words were crushed from his lungs as Halsin pulled him nearly off his feet, into a crushing embrace.

"Of course my heart, your presence soothes and relieves me. I am immeasurably pleased to be back," Halsin said, kissing the top of Astarion's head before releasing the vampire to hold him at arm's length and gaze at him. "It has just been a… trying time. A test that rivals any of my experiences - save for the banishing of the shadow curse." His voice betrayed his weariness, his volume trailing off toward the end of his sentence.

Astarion frowned, clicking his tongue in a series of tsks , and raised his hand to cradle Halsin's cheek. "My poor sweet bear…," he said, holding his hand still as Halsin nuzzled into it. "As much as I'd love to hear all the juicy details, I suppose I can wait to hear about how well you danced with those bears."

Halsin's chuckle shook his shoulders. He deeply appreciated his partner’s dry humor. "I appreciate that, Astarion," he said, pressing another kiss to the vampire's lips. This kiss was more certain, more intentional. "Let us make up for some lost time, hm?" the druid asked with a wicked grin, nodding his head toward their tent.

The next few weeks passed uneventfully, mostly full of lazy days enjoying each others' company, reading, and hunting together (and hunting each other) in the evenings. They'd done enough work defeating the Netherbrain, and prior to Halsin's stint in the wilderness, helping rebuild the city overall. So, Astarion had insisted it was time that others do some work for the good of the city. Halsin could only chuckle at his lover's insistence that do-gooding was nauseating.

Eventually, languidly lounging about the camp become a bore, and though he enjoyed the bounty of nature and camping quite thoroughly, Halsin felt the need to again move . To roam. In his restlessness, he had found himself willingly accompanying Astarion for an evening foray from their camp into the markets of Baldur's Gate. They would also be staying in more chic settings than their campsite, for the evening. Astarion had been complaining of sleeping in their tents when the Elfsong was now right there , newly renovated after the mindflayer attack, and now with private rooms.

He had agreed to join his mate to satisfy both Astarion's need for a good day's sleep, and his own desire to roam. His own need was more intense now than ever before, as the moon had waned, then disappeared altogether, then began waxing again closer and closer to being full. The instinct pulled at him, the need to explore, to… claim a territory?

Halsin shook his head, brushing away the thoughts just as he brushed away the sensations of the flies, the mingling crowds, and the noise of the markets within the city. He often found himself overwhelmed by the bustle of crowds, the shouts of vendors and the smells of the unwashed masses, manure, and other various scents. Not to mention, the wanton crime and seemingly endless homelessness and squalor. It was enough to unnerve him on any given day. But on this foray, Halsin felt a particular distaste for the less savory aspects of the city, and acted almost without thought to “correct” unsavory situations.

On their way in, Halsin scruffed a man who had attempted to lift some coin from a blind beggar’s donation cup, throwing the man against a wall as if he were a ragdoll. Astarion giggled with glee, clapping at Halsin's uncharacteristic brutality. Halsin stared at his hands before raising his gaze to the bloodied nose of the failed thief. After the would-be bandit recovered from the shock, he had scampered off into an alley. Halsin felt something within him aching to chase the man, and he fought, not without difficulty, to stand firmly in place instead of following him.

"Well done, darling," Astarion cheered, always up for a bit of chaos, whether or not in the name of being a do-gooder. He reached around to grab a handful of Halsin's muscled rump over his trousers. Halsin had hardly noticed; he was too lost in his thoughts.

He would, of course, have remedied the situation regardless, either by holding the thief for the proper authorities, or scaring him senseless as a wild beast. His unthinking, instinctual urge to thrash unsettled the druid, who had spent countless years wresting control of his temper, of his wildshape, of the desire to stay in bear form more often than in his true elven form. He nearly ran into several other market goers as he mulled over his outburst while navigating the market. He was mostly still lost in his thoughts when Astarion meandered up to a booth.

He watched from afar as Astarion bartered with a vendor of perfumes and bejeweled bottles of essential oils. One of the things he enjoyed most about his vampire is that he smelled so, so good. Trips to the perfumer or alchemist were not uncommon for Astarion, and Halsin hadn't thought twice about the relationships he had been building within the city as vendors returned slowly once their storefronts were rebuilt. His ever-talkative and ebullient vampire was chatting with the vendor as he reached out for a particular bottle on the table.

Halsin felt his eyes narrow and the fine baby hairs on the back of his neck raise as the vendor ran his hand on top of Astarion's fingers, lingering there a beat too long. Before Halsin realized it, he felt pulled, like the ocean being pulled by the forces of Faerun's moon, towards the booth, his top lip curled in a snarl. His bulk cast a shadow over the perfumer's table, then his face.

"That's enough ," he barked at the vendor, who withdrew his hand quickly, eyes wide at the hulking bear of a man, whose eyes glinted an odd gold. Both the vendor’s hands raised upward in a gesture of surrender, and he backed several steps away from his table, eyeing Halsin all the while. Astarion took advantage of the distraction, slipping the bergamot essential oil into his pocket.

"My apologies, darling," he purred at the vendor, before wrapping a delicate arm around Halsin's bicep. "Come now, dear Halsin," he said, steering the large man away from the booth. "This is the second time today that you've thrown a tantrum," the vampire purred under his breath as they ambled back towards the Elfsong, Astarion's pockets heavier with the same amount of gold he had set off with, but several vials of oils that were new. "Not that I mind your recent spree in enacting violence or threats thereof, to be clear. But is something wrong?"

Halsin did not need Astarion’s words to know that the vampire didn’t mind the violence. From the moment he'd stormed to the booth, the large druid had been able to smell Astarion's arousal. Halsin did not answer immediately, acknowledging the question with only a growl from the back of his throat. He was distracted by the dampness that had to be staining Astarin's panties. Halsin's hand quivered as it pulled the little elf closer, settling on his lower back, Halsin's fingertips pressing into his flesh after slipping under the vampire's linen shirt.

His scent maddened Halsin. He pulled at the front of his trousers absentmindedly, trying to hide his own growing erection. He normally had more self-control than this - to be brought to half-hardness in the middle of public was unheard of. A shameful loss of control. He felt his face and ears flush, adding a tinge of red to his suntanned skin.

"I… do not know what has come over me," Halsin muttered, running his hand through his auburn locks. A lie. He did know… or the deeper, instinctual, beastial part of him did anyway. Halsin's knowing was not based off his centuries of life, and the subsequent knowledge he had of the movements of the celestial bodies around Faerun. Halsin knew the full moon was approaching, even deep in his unconscious mind, the deep, feral part of him that made the druid restless amongst the camp.

"I simply… can't abide the thought of anyone else touching you," he admitted after several additional minutes of quiet, when they finally had made it to the private room in the Elfsong they had rented for the evening. Astarion had been eyeing him up and down the whole time, his hand lazily dragging up and down Halsin's well-muscled forearm as they strolled side by side. Their room was on the bottom floor, conveniently close to the bar, but far enough down several twists of a hallway that nothing could be heard - and no one could hear them.

The solid oak door, salvaged from the original Elfsong after the Netherbrain attack, creaked as it was opened, revealing their far-more-superior-than-a-bedroll amenities for the evening. Heavy curtains hung on either side of several windows. Gauzy sheer curtains hung between them, allowing only the flicker of the city streetlamps to seep through. A settee, table, and a couple of chairs were arranged on one side of the room, and on the other side was a large four-poster bed, draped with burgundy velveteen bed linens and piled with pillows.

"Could it be something to do with the whole…" Astarion said as he turned to lock the door, then sauntered over to perch himself on the edge of the bed, "you know. Bear thing ?" The vampire accentuated his question with a wave of his delicate wrists, then mimed claws by curling his thin fingers.

Halsin raised his gaze to Astarion's ruby eyes. Gods, he was beautiful. Stunning. Inconceivably tempting. He was drawn to the little elf, and knelt on the floor before Astarion, his hands wrapping behind his calves. He could nearly touch his fingertips to his thumbs with the motion. His little vampire, his little bird; so vicious, Astarion could be, but also so delicate. Halsin felt possessiveness roil in his stomach as he thought again of the handsy vendor, and of anyone's hands touching his territory. His sigh had an edge to it, almost like a growl.

"That is precisely what worries me, my heart," Halsin said, his eyes not raising to meet Astarion's. He was face-level with his mate's crotch, and he felt his hands pull at Astarion's legs to part them, to give him easier access to the sweetness at the apex of his thighs he had been smelling the whole way to their room.

"Worries you?" Astarion asked with a little yelp at the sudden opening of his legs. He fell back onto his elbows on top of the velvet bedding and peered down at Halsin. "Darling, you worry too much. I know exactly what the problem is."

Halsin's face jerked upward as his hands slid up too, dipping into the waistline of Astarion's trousers and pulling downward. "What would that be," he asked, his voice low and deep.

"Well, to begin with, you haven't allowed yourself to finish in a week," the little elf said, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "That's enough to drive any man mad, let alone with the stress you've been under from this whole finding-your-inner-bear process." He raised his hips to allow Halsin to more easily remove his trousers, his back a delicate arch. Halsin wanted to pin the smaller man beneath him, to have that arch reversed, to press his hips so hard into Astarion's that there would be bruises for a week. His breath shuddered at the intrusive thought and he shook his head.

"It is too close to the full moon to allow myself to take you fully," Halsin explained, pressing his face against Astarion's panties. They were soaking wet, the pale lace stained darker where Astarion's slit pressed against the material. Halsin's erection throbbed against his pants, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. "Last month. The full moon. I…"

Astarion couldn't answer at the moment, biting his lower lip at the sensation of Halsin's nose pressing softly against his swollen clit. He fought back a whimper as the druid dipped lower, his nose pulling from his clit and sliding down the gusset of his panties. Astarion's legs were lifted from the floor, and up, as Halsin rose from a kneel and pushed Astarion by his knees further onto the bed. He clambered onto the mattress after him, his tongue lapping sloppily at the apex of Astarion's thighs the entire time.

Halsin had always been one to ask for confirmation, verbally or otherwise before a change of position, before he made big moves. But the larger elf's tongue was too busy lolling about, dragging along Astarion's inner thighs where the lace met his milky skin. He settled in comfortably on the mattress, lying on his belly with his head framed by either of Astarion's thighs.

"You were fine ," Astarion whined, raising his hips, against the warmth, "And you will be fine tonight, too, if you'd stop thinking so bloody much." He ached to toss one of the pillows onto which he had been pushed. Maybe a gentle bonk would knock some sense into his lover. Astarion's confidence quaked, however, when Halsin's head pulled quickly away from his groin.

"Astarion… you cannot possibly know.." The druid shifted on the mattress, raising up on his elbows to make eye contact with the vampire.

"Know? Please , Halsin. You were fine last month, what's different now?" His voice was whiny, petulant.

Halsin paused, a rumble in his throat, both at Astarion's casual dismissal of his concern and at the desire to lap at the sweetness pooling between his legs. He slipped a finger past the lace, grazing slightly along the outside of Astarion's slick folds.

"Did you know that more babies are born on full moons? And that a myriad of spells and rituals must be performed when the moon is brightest?" Halsin explained, slipping a finger inside the smaller elf, who was so deliciously tight around even just one finger that it made his head spin. Halsin pressed his groin against the mattress, rolling his hips against it absentmindedly. "Do you truly believe that the moon, which influences even the ocean tides of Faerun, does not affect people as well? Last month, in that clearing, I felt…closer to the Bear than I ever have in my life."

He shifted again, crawling upwards along Astarion's torso, before pressing his body to his lover's. The coolness of Astarion's porcelain skin was a balm that Halsin ached for. A territory he ached to claim. If Astarion had to breathe, he would have struggled to do so underneath Halsin's thick body, so firmly did he press his lover into the goose feather-stuffed mattress. Halsin's bulk was fully spread across him, and Astarion could not have been more delighted at how the larger elf seemed to lose himself in the moment with him.

Despite his words, his hesitation, his concern… Halsin felt an instinctual pull to touch Astarion, to claim his body and mind with his touch, his tongue, his cock, that felt even more intense than normal. He couldn't have pulled his hand away from the vampire's cool wetness if he tried - and he was. Trying, that is. His biceps burned with the attempt to curl his hand upward and away, to prevent this delicious touch that was satisfying his most carnal cravings. Instead, Halsin's fingers curled inside his mate's cunt, stroking rhythmically against the spongy tissue inside that marked the spot that pleased his lover the most.

Astarion's legs quivered in response, shaking against Halsin's sides, a cooling effect as opposed to the heat emanating from the druid like a sun-warmed brick. The contrast made Halsin shiver, and he lifted up with a grunt, the haze of lust lifting only slightly from his mind, and fear nagging at the back of it instead. He bid his tongue to work, to function, so that he could speak his concerns audibly to the vampire. While he struggled for his words, his thumb swirled languidly around Astarion's clit. The pale elf's whimpering at the sensation demanded his attention - and also his pause.

"I cannot hurt you, my heart, and I…. I fear that I will lose control if I allow myself to indulge in your body while the moon is at its brightest," he finally said. He wasn't sure that Astarion was truly paying attention, by the way the vampire was writhing on the bedspread and pressing his hips into Halsin's thick fingers.

Astarion scoffed at the thought, his sharp nails scraping against the sheets of the bed, pulling the linens taut in his fist. "I am immortal darling, and heal quickly. Please, spare me the hero act," he tutted, raising himself up with one hand to sit at an incline. He brought his other hand to the bony part of Halsin's chin, curling his fingertips underneath, pulling his face forward. "If you don't take me here and now…" Astarion warned, his voice an octave lower and tinged with the rumble of a slight growl.

It was an empty threat, of course. The vampire would never seek satisfaction elsewhere, he was wholly satisfied with Halsin. But he knew how Halsin enjoyed being told what to do, how the druid hungered for direction after so many years of having to choose, to be in control, to set expectations. Halsin was also dreadfully territorial, and the threat of Astarion flitting away to satisfy himself with his own fingers alone was enough to send the druid into a fit, not quite a rage, but a fervor to thoroughly debauch and lay claim to what was rightfully his. To make Astarion his. And to make sure that he knew it.

The pale elf did not have to finish the sentence; Halsin's eyes flashed a golden glow only a second before he lunged forward, pressing his lips against Astarion's smirking mouth. Astarion found himself pinned once again to the mattress, Halsin's chest and groin pressed against his. The larger elf ground his hips against the vampire's damp panties, teasing the sensitive nub against the delicate lace. A pity, that it would probably get torn, but Astarion didn't care - he was too preoccupied with how Halsin's tongue teased apart his lips to explore his mouth. It was hot and dominating, as if the druid seeked to claim his mouth by touching every bit of his tongue in wide, searing, open-mouthed kisses. Astarion returned the passion with gusto, curling his fingers into Halsin's auburn locks, grabbing a fistful at the base of his skull.

But only for a moment - for a growl from Halsin startled him, it seemed different than his normal lovemaking noises. It was almost animalistic, rather than elven-made, and Astarion's grip loosened enough for the druid to grab his wrists in one large hand and pin them to the mattress above the pale elf's head. Astarion grinned mischievously as Halsin's face pulled from his, capturing his lower lip between his teeth, which seemed... sharper, somehow. As if Halsin had grown fangs like his own.

His deep ruby eyes squinted at Halsin's mouth, but he could not tell a difference in the candlelight of the rented room, especially when Halsin's head was moving lower, to press kisses - and bites? - along his slender frame. His mate was not normally a biter. He let it be Astarion’s habit, and yet the vampire felt his large, hot mouth open wide to mark his porcelain skin, his flesh sucked between Halsin's teeth and held firmly. Not too painfully, for Astarion had experienced much worse, but the bites were hard enough that the vampire was sure he'd have bruises for several weeks once they blossomed on his pale skin.

All Halsin could think of is how he wanted to mark his territory, to cover the pale canvas before him in purple and blue and red marks, using Astarion's flesh and blood as paint, to leave teeth marks on his skin like he had left claw marks on the bark of birches in his forest. Typically, he loathed the idea of leaving welts or bright red stripes from his nails. Astarion was a marble sculpture that Halsin's more conservative side hated to mar. With what little restraint he felt that he still had available to him, Halsin lowered himself instead, further down, trailing teeth and tongue along his lover's pale belly, lower still to the lace panties which seeped with Astarion's need.

Astarion's scent was intoxicating, like a she-bear in heat, and Halsin dove in, pressing his face against the fabric again, so firmly that it pushed his nose flat. He opened his mouth, his wide wet tongue leaving a searing stripe along Astarion's pussy lips even through the fabric. The movement pulled a pathetic mewl from the vampire, whose hands were shifted lower, pressed to his own chest as Halsin dove down into his cunt. Astarion’s fingers clenched, sharp nails digging into his palms. How he hated being held down. How he loved it. He could only gyrate his hips, raising them as much as he could, but not for long.

Halsin's other hand wrapped around Astarion's waist, and the druid growled in satisfaction. He relished in the size difference between himself and his mate, how he could touch his fingers when fully encircling the little vampire - especially when he pressed down, pinning Astarion’s lower half to the mattress as well. He groaned at the thought as he lapped his broad tongue at Astarion's lower lips through the lace.

"A mess," Halsin growled, again, deeply, in a more animalistic manner than he had ever previously, glancing upward from Astarion's needy cunt to make eye contact. Glowing golden met ruby red only long enough for Halsin to speak. "Such a sloppy, sweet boy for me. So needy, my heart… how badly do you ache to be filled by me?"

Astarion had no words in response to Halsin's, nor in response to the druid's actions. His lover enjoyed dirty talk, and was generous with his praise at all times, including in their bed, but this was on another level. Before he could process the words fully, the larger elf dove back down to Astarion's pussy and gathered the lace in his teeth. Halsin nodded downward, and his teeth - the druid's mind faintly realized they must be sharper than normal, tore the fabric with ease, leaving the vampire fully exposed. The remnants of the lacy fabric rolled upward, curling about the silk waistband.

Astarion was not one to be taken by surprise during their evenings (and mornings, and afternoons) of rolling about in the bedrolls, but Halsin had always been most careful with his belongings, including any delicate little thing that Astarion had purchased to wear for him. So, the snap of the fabric was accompanied by an audible gasp from the vampire.

Now that Astarion’s cunt was bared fully, Halsin paused for just a moment to take the sight in, to appreciate how beautiful his mate truly was. Astarion was stunning, his lips plump and pink from Halsin's attention, slick with both saliva and Astarion's wetness, his need . Halsin stroked a calloused finger between the folds, circling his clit lazily, but with intent, pulling a whine from Astarion's lips. Something within Halsin stirred, and he felt some of the stitches at the front of his trousers rip to accommodate his growing girth. He hadn't had that happen before, and looked down. Did the growth of the moon also mean now the growth of…? Halsin shook away the thought, that's not what he cared about at the moment.

Instead, he felt as though he was still starving, despite his face and chin being covered in the vampire's slick already, and he wanted to direct his attention solely on Astarion. He was so pitifully empty. He slipped a finger inside, then two, testing how needily Astarion's cunt gripped his fingers, then he withdrew them, licking his fingers while keeping his gaze trained on Astarion's eyes. The vampire's expression was full of surprise, his pupils blown out fully in a haze of arousal and need as he teetered on the edge of his pleasure. His alabaster skin shone with small beads of sweat from Halsin's teasing, and his hair had been mussed by being pressed into the silk pillows behind him.

Oakfather help him, Astarion was in a wretched state, so full of want, so ready to be fucked, to be bred. How Halsin couldn't wait to fill him to the brim, to press himself and his seed deep inside Astarion's womb. Had he been more conscious of his thoughts, he'd think it odd, for of course his seed was null when inside a vampire.

But you must , something within him spoke as he stroked at Astarion's outer folds with his thick fingers. The druid inhaled deeply, then broke eye contact to dive into them, slathering his tongue inside Astarion's slit like licking honey off the comb.

Halsin's nose pressed against Astarion's clit, and the pale elf's hips rose to press against the sensation. He curled his slender fingers in Halsin's auburn mane, pressing his head down, harder onto the throbbing bundle of nerves that ached for attention. He'd been eaten out by Halsin dozens, if not hundreds of times at this point, but had the druid's tongue ever slipped inside his pussy so deeply? With such a…curl to it? Almost as if it were prehensile, pressing against his G-spot relentlessly.

Astarion couldn't recall, but then again, he could barely think. Halsin's mouth was too much a distraction as it explored inside him, between his folds, and then to his clit, suckling on it as though it were a teat, the friction and speed making his head rush so much, almost too much. And yet, not enough either, because he was close to that moment of bliss in which the lines of pleasure and pain blurred and became most intoxicating when enjoyed together.

Halsin noticed how Astarion's nails dug into his scalp, how his legs wrapped around him and his heels dug into the druid's shoulder blades, pulling him close, trapping his head and mouth against the vampire's soaking, needy cunt. He couldn't hold back the growl that was forming deep in his belly, then his chest, and finally from his mouth, snarling like a bear that was being stung while lapping honey from the hive. But he dove incessantly, lifting Astarion's hips from the mattress and pulling them up, do his face, to bury his nose and lips and chin into his wetness. Astarion could only mewl pitifully in response. He gripped onto Halsin's head and shoulders with what little strength he had; his hands and legs shook with pleasure.

"H-Halsin!" Astarion said, his voice cracking, almost raspy, as the druid's practiced tongue and scorching mouth pulled him over the ledge... And into the orgasm which made stars burst behind his eyelids, his head spin, and wetness erupt from his cunt and drip down, over Halsin's chin, between Astarion's asscrack, soaking the bed beneath them. The vampire's arms and legs went nearly limp. He was held up only by Halsin's strength before having his lower body pressed to the mattress once more, Halsin's broad hand spanning his hips almost completely when spread wide, from thumb to pinky.

His vision was blurred as he stared at the ceiling dreamily, still riding the waves of bliss from his climax. Halsin's attentions this evening were intense, unforgiving, and almost…feral. The word came to Astarion's mind right as Halsin's face appeared above him. The druid crawled up, over the smaller elf's trembling body, to press his torso fully against Astarion's, shoulder to pelvis, and gaze down at his lover. His expression was almost unreadable, and tinged by something Astarion couldn't quite place. It pulled a memory from the back of his mind, back when they hadn't yet banished the shadow curse. Fear?

"Halsin?" He asked, abandoning his 'darling' pet name, the bliss of climax fading quickly in the literal face of fear he gazed into. Halsin's hair had fallen from his ponytail, his braids fluttering about his face.

"I… I need to stop. I cannot do this today. Not tonight," Halsin whispered hoarsely, pulling a hand upward to hold the side of Astarion's face, caressing the flushed tip of his pointed ear. "I keep… feeling wild urges. Almost as though I'm experiencing what bears do, their...seasons."

Astarion's ruby eyes grew wide with realization - it wasn't some noble, heroic act that Halsin was acting upon, no white-knight silliness that the vampire always viewed with derision. Halsin was genuinely concerned about how dangerous he might be with the 'full acceptance' of the bear, or however he had explained it. His need to mate and breed.

How thrilling . There was nothing that could get the little vampire going more quickly than a taste of danger, the thrill of the hunt. And the idea of his noble, gentle Halsin, losing himself to his monstrous side. Becoming as monstrous as vampires are. Astarion's loins tingled at the idea of his lover losing control - more specifically, losing control over him .

"I already explained darling, I'm immortal…" Astarion purred, leaning upward to press his lips against Halsin's, cool tongue begging for entrance. Their tongues met briefly, before Halsin pulled away, panting. Sweat had beaded on his forehead, and Astarion could feel the press of his hardened cock - hells below, was it bigger than normal.. and what was that ... a knot against his slick-soaked cunt? "Breed me, Halsin," he whispered, pulling at the nape of Halsin's neck to lick along the sensitive ridge of his ear and further egg the druid on. "Breed me then, my love, knot me. Make me yours ." His words came out almost as a hiss, before he lapped at the tip of Halsin's ear. The larger elf groaned at both the sensation and his words, his erection grinding through his trousers against Astarion's pale skin.

"My heart… you… don't know what you're asking of me," Halsin panted, his voice low and gravelly. He pressed on the mattress to raise himself, unlace his trousers to free his pulsing erection. As his trousers slid down his well-muscled thighs and settled around his knees, Halsin's cock bobbed in the air. It was bigger than normal, shaped differently too… and a thick bulge at the base, near Halsin's balls. Astarion swore the druid had thicker body hair than normal, and traced the line of it with his eyes back over Halsin's torso, up to his neck, his face… where the druid's eyes glowed even a more fierce golden. His mouth was agape, and as he spoke, Astarion swore he saw elongated fangs poking out. "Once I enter you I will… not have control, Astarion," he explained, not breaking eye contact with the vampire, "I'll be ruthless. I'll ruin you."

Astarion's expression turned from curiosity, as his eyebrows raised and a sultry grin spread across it. His nimble hands reached down to grasp Halsin's cock - hells it was much bigger than normal - and brushed the sensitive tip against his slick folds. Halsin groaned with the sensation, his hips bucking in response, but kept his eyes locked to Astarion's.

"Then ruin me," replied the vampire in a husky voice, his words dripping with a tease, a taunt. It was a plea that came from the heart - Astarion ached to see this side of Halsin that was more like him , running on instinct, the basest level, the most animalistic and monstrous version he could get from Halsin save from a curse of vampirism or lycanthropy. And he wanted it all.

Halsin's eyes narrowed at his words, the hesitance in his expression fading instead to a feral focus as he slowly rolled his hips, thrusting into Astarion's hand, then past it, past the wet folds and inside the vampire. The pale elf moaned and lifted his hips, his eyes rolling upward momentarily at the stretch of Halsin's girth in his cunt. Halsin's breath escaped in a growl as he hunched over Astarion's form, his vampire's grin almost a taunt as he gazed up.

The stretch was delicious, Halsin was absolutely larger than normal, and so much warmer inside of him. The druid thrusts were tentative, as though he were testing the fit, or experiencing territory previously unexplored. It was too slow, too careful, too…. contemplative . That's not what Halsin's 'inner bear' or whatever was aching for, Astarion reckoned, and grinned to himself wider as he thought of how to truly have Halsin lose himself to his own need.

Astarion himself needed more , and nipped at Halsin's bottom lip, pricking it slightly while lapping inside the druid's mouth, seeking to deeply entwine himself with his lover. Halsin nearly snarled at pinch of his fangs, but in a way that didn't seem angry. It seemed more… primal. Astarion held back a pleasured scream as he felt the druid thrust himself into his pussy harder, deeper than he had previously. It was almost painful, the the head of the druid's thick cock pressing against his cervix, the walls of his pussy, slipping all the way out, brushing his lips, before quickly slamming back in.

Astarion fought the urge to crawl away, to escape the relentless press against his insides, the ache that hurt so deliciously, the stretch that stung to accommodate Halsin's girth. His hands were free now, and he grasped at the velveteen covers and the pillows as a way to not float away in pleasure, to remain somewhat grounded to this realm, to this experience. But a stronger means of keeping the vampire grounded appeared around his body - Halsin's large hands grasped at his hips, holding the vampire in place. Halsin's mouth curled into a snarl as he rutted into the tightness, his grunts of effort more like growls. Astarion's gaze flitted downward, at Halsin's firm grip, and in the fog of desire he noted briefly how Halsin's nails were longer, sharper. Halsin seemed to have grown claws of his own. The vampire's grin grew wider, his teeth grit together in satisfaction and lust.

"That's it love," he panted, his words ending on a high-pitched moan. Astarion wrapped his legs around Halsin's hips, digging his heels into the small of the druid's back.

It suited Halsin just fine, for he wanted nothing more than to be made one with Astarion. For the vampire to be made his . More than just lust whirled through Halsin's mind as he slammed into Astarion's cunt. The desire to fill him, make the vampire heavy with his seed, and then his cubs, to continue his lineage. To breed.

"Astarion… you…" Halsin's words coming between his thrusts. The druid wrapped one arm around the vampire's lower back, lifting his lithe body up to his own bulk. Halsin’s other arm slid upwards and pressed onto the mattress, holding him up to not crush Astarion fully.

"Yes, darling, yes ," Astarion replied, egging him on, his slender fingers skittering up Halsin's chest, to grip onto his thick muscles. His claws dug in to keep the druid close. The pinpricks of blood drawn by his claws dribbled down Halsin's chest, and Astarion's eyes flashed with a different type of hunger. The druid bared his teeth at the sensation, his face hovering only inches from Astarion's. The vampire's eyes widened, as did his grin. He did have fangs…

"You are.. going to come for me," Halsin growled, his hips moving more slowly, agonizingly slowly, the broad head of his cock pulling all the way out, pressing against Astarion's pussy lips, slick with wet, swollen with desire, and oh-so-sensitive. Astarion was in no place to argue, the sensation almost too much, nearly taking him to the edge then and there as the flare of Halsin's cock. His eyes closed, his pale white eyelashes fluttering against his reddened cheeks. Astarion was stunning, captivating, one of a kind. And his .

"And after you do," Halsin continued, "I am going to fill you up with so much of my seed that it will drip down your thighs for days." He continued rolling his hips lazily, immersing his cock deeply into Astarion’s body, grinding the front of his pelvis against his lover’s clit. The vampire could only writhe beneath Halsin, under the muscle and bulk of the druid. It delighted him to be in such a place, to be chosen and cherished and…

"You are going to be bred like a bitch in heat, Astarion," Halsin huffed, his voice a rumbling growl as his mouth pressed firm bites on the vampire's pale porcelain neck. Astarion could only whimper in response, especially as the druid's mouth traveled over his old bite scar. Halsin's fangs slotted neatly into the old scarred divots, and he bit down hard, tasting a faint hint of copper as small droplets came to the surface. Astarion's eyes shot open and he gasped in shock, his breath coming out in a loud whimper, his throat vibrating in Halsin's mouth. The pressure of the bite was more of a surprise than the pain, and the blood drawn by the druid's fangs was miniscule at best, nothing like he had experienced before he became what he was. They fluttered closed again, his head tilting backwards, his silver curls falling about on the pillows and velveteen blanket under him.

But the most surprising of everything was Halsin's words , and Astarion's head spun with the idea of being claimed, being made Halsin's mate. His breath hitched and he keened with each thrust of the druid's thick cock inside him, the thought of being filled with Halsin's seed and then.. eventually…His thoughts were spinning about in his head, his previously-unconsidered-until-today desire for this.. this breeding , this claiming, driving him into more of a frenzy than he thought previously possible.

" Yesss ," Astarion hissed in pleasure as his cunt was filled once again with Halsin's cock. "Yes, darling," he keened, his legs tightening around Halsin's hips, which seemed to be more of a stretch than it had been just minutes ago. And… hairier?

His eyes opened to a view which he could not have predicted, even with Halsin's forewarnings, muttered concerns and resistance. The moonlight filtered through the window panes, casting a pale white glow on his lover Halsin, who.. didn't look like Halsin. Not anymore.

The druid wasn't elven. He wasn't human. He was - something else - Astarion's grin returned to his face as he made eye contact with this bestial being above him - one whose eyes glowed golden much like Halsin's. And while there was also the scent of animal, slightly musky, it still smelled like Halsin, of fresh basil and honey. But the beast above him had a muzzle, and a wet black nose, and a maw full of sharp teeth the size of steak knives. The fur along the right side of his face had a swirled pattern, with four scars borne across the left side of its face.

A bear. A bear standing on his haunches, but not a true bear like found in the forest. It reminded him of a gnoll, but in a bear's skin. Its paws were more like humanoid hands, black thick claws at the fingertips pressing into Astarion's tender skin. Its shoulders were broad, and it stood upright like goblinkin and gnolls. And its cock - hells below - its cock was so thick, hotter now than just before Astarion had closed his eyes. And then it spoke.

"You're going to give me a whole litter of cubs, Astarion," he spoke, in Halsin's voice - but deeper, a bit more gravelly, rougher at the edges.

Halsin was one with the Bear. Astarion gasped, relishing with delight at not being the most monstrous partner of the pairing - for once.

" Darling ," moaned Astarion, for that was the only word he could speak at the revelation, his realization that Halsin was a werebear, and had shifted as the moonlight had made contact with his skin.

Halsin's balls ached for release each time it pressed against Astarion's ass with each thrust. But Halsin held back. He needed to wait. He needed to -

"Knot - '' the vampire moaned as Halsin thrust in particularly deeply, and Astarion felt the pressure of the bulge at the base of the werebear's cock. " Knot me , Halsin, please ." His begging was pitiful, uncharacteristic of the vampire. And Halsin, in this werebear form, could not resist the instinctual call to claim his mate. Especially when his mate was begging for it, in both his words and his wetness. Halsin's cock throbbed with need, with each thrust into Astarion's cunt getting him closer to claiming his mate. Halsin's furry balls slapped against Astarion's cool flesh, then pressed firmly at first, against the resistance of Astarion's pussy.

He needed to calm his mate, to soothe him, and Halsin pressed his wet nose against Astarion's ear. His long, hot tongue lolled out of his maw to lap at the edge of the vampire's pointed ear. It curled about the tip, stroking it steadily, matching the thrusts of Halsin's hips into Astarion. The vampire's pleasure came out in breathy moans as he leaned his head into the sensation, and as his pelvis rose to meet the hairy hips of his werebear mate.

The tongue unfurled from around his ear, and the druid growled his words beside Astarion's head. "You're going to look beautiful with a belly full of my cubs, Astarion," Halsin rumbled, his snout wrinkling as he bared his teeth in pleasure. Halsin's assertion was all Astarion needed to relax, to give in, to allow himself to experience the waves of climax that he had been hungering for.

The vampire keened with satisfaction, dragging his nails across the werebear's furry chest. Astarion's cunt spasmed with his orgasm, with pleasure, and then relaxed - and the werebear took his chance slamming further into Astarion’s cunt.. The vampire screamed in both pleasure and pain at the delicious stretch of Halsin's knot pressing against his insides, filling him completely. The druid's cock pushed against his cervix, fully against every pleasure point inside the vampire, and Astarion could only continue his silent scream of satisfaction as his cunt was filled to the brim and stretched to nearly tearing.

But he didn't care, it didn't matter, all that mattered was being filled by his love, by his mate, being claimed by the heat that coated his insides as Halsin reached climax right after him, his thick bear cock twitching as he came inside of Astarion. Halsin roared in satisfaction, his erection still pulsing. His seed poured past his knot, dripping more spend onto the sheets that were already ruined by the claws on his hind feet that had been tearing at them.

Both men's breaths came in panting huffs, and Astarion had closed his eyes again as he climaxed. He held Halsin in place with his legs, forbidding the druid from pulling out of him, and noticed that he had to soon squeeze tighter... and that the body he had encircled with them was markedly less hairy.

"My heart," Halsin said, his voice less of a growl, "my mate."

Astarion's eyes fluttered open, to look upward at Halsin, now back in his elven form, his eyes flashing golden still in the pale moonlight. Astarion smiled at him, at the mess they both were - sweat and blood and cum-slicked all over, the ruined bedcover beneath them. And at the knowledge that he could never doubt his druid's devotion to him.

"My sweet bear," drawled Astarion, pulling Halsin in for a lazy, gentle kiss as they lay intertwined, "You know…I've never minded being caressed by claws..."

#bg3bigbang2024 #astarion #bloodbear #halstarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #ursa minor #bloodhoney #oakblood #astarion x halsin #halsin romance #halsin #bg3 halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin x astarion #halsin/astarion

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guksfairy · 20 hours

Text

I’m Tired Anyways

Jungkook x bubbly OC

playlist • original scene •

WC: 2K

In which Jungkook shows you he genuinely cares about you in his own way

💗: HEAVENLY inspired by that one scene in ‘When I Fly Towards You’! If you want to see the original scene I based this fic off of I linked it above and it starts at minute 19:32 💗 !

note: I wrote this fairly quick so please excuse mistakes 🥲

You wish you could stare at her with a genuine smile but how could you? There she was standing with your Jungkook! Maybe not yours yet but eventually your Jungkook!

You watched as they stood in front of a stand looking at all the souvenirs displayed on the table along with a variety of other objects.

“Are you aware you’re pouting like a kid who was just told no?” You stare back at your best friend of 4 years and let out a breathy sigh.

“Sua, do you think they’re still close?”

“Considering this is their first time seeing one another after 2 years…no,” you begin to smile, “but who says people can’t reconnect,” and it goes away in an instant.

“You’re not helping,” you say fully turning and staring at the variety of sunglasses on the rack in front of you.

“You know I’m only joking! You can’t seriously be this upset because Jungkook and a girl from his old school are catching up,”

You walked out of your English exam tired as fuck. You looked at the other students walking out along with you and every single one looked tired. Your exam group had to get up at 6 AM for your test which would be from 7 AM to 10 AM.

Not all 3 hours were used but if you wanted a good mark than you better use them. As you walked down the ramp to the exit you catch a glimpse of Jungkook walking back and forth clearly waiting for you at the exit.

“Jungkook!” you run to him with a completely different emotion from the prior. His group was slightly luckier with their test only being 2 and a half hours long.

“I thought your test ended a half hour ago. Were you waiting for me?” you liked to tease him. He wasn’t big on emotions but even a smile would do for you.

“Oh- uh I just came out now,” you can tell he was bluffing but let it go realizing your other three friends weren’t with him.

“Have Sua, Jimin, and Minhyuk not finished their tests?” you question as you watch his eyes trail to the left and stared at the three crouching on the floor.

“She’s so in love with him she doesn’t even notice us,” you hear Minhyuk say as you smile shyly at Jungkook as he lets a barely audible laugh.

The three walk towards you and Jungkook.

“Well I need some food in my system. Should we look up places to eat here?” Jimin’s already taking his phone out before you can all agree but all your attention is quickly taken when you hear a voice call Jungkook’s name.

“Jungkook! Is that you? I thought I recognized you!” it was an older man walking towards your group with a girl who looked your age.

“Mr. Fukutomi,” Jungkook turns and greets the elder with a handshake. He wore a green badge signifying he was a teacher.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you! You remember my granddaughter, Tsuki,” she waves at your entire group and you try your best to keep a smile.

He remembers her?

“I’m assuming you came here to take your annual science exam? How was it?”

“I did and it was fine. I enjoy science a lot,” he speaks as the four of you just watch and listen to their interaction.

“Well it’s almost lunch time. Have you all eaten?” he asks and stares at us all.

“We were just on our way sir,” you hear Minhyuk behind you. You could hear the desperation in his voice for this conversation to end so he could finally grab some food.

“You should let Tsuki show you around town and then have lunch together afterward. She practically grew up here,” the elder suggests making a hand movement towards Tsuki who just smiled.

Again. You hear Minhyuk let a quiet sigh at the thought of doing something before eating.

“Oh we wouldn’t want to bothe-” ”Nonsense! I’m sure you two would like to catch up too!” he cuts off Jungkook before wishing you all a great day and walking away.

You all wave goodbye to him and watch Tsuki walk closer to you guys.

“I know this great sight seeing area but we need to walk a bit far for it,” she says.

“You think we can grab some snacks or something first,” Jimin asks.

“Of course. We can stop at the souvenir shop around the corner. They sell tons of snacks from around the world,” she explains.

“Lead the way,” Jimin replies as she lets out a small laugh and you all begin walking.

You walk shoulder to shoulder with Jungkook before realizing Tsuki was on his other side and they were laughing and conversating so you walk slower to be with Sua who was behind you.

“What’s wrong?” she notices your head slightly down as you wrap your arm around hers. You don’t even realize when Jungkook took notice of you leaving his side as he stared back at you.

You looked upset which worried him. Maybe he’ll ask you when you guys arrive at the shop.

“Tsuki’s pretty,”

“So are you, Y/N,” she replies.

“Tsuki seems smart,”

“So are you, Y/N. Stop sulking before I tell Tsuki to leave. Besides you know how head over heels Jungkook is for you,”

No. You don’t. Often times your friend group would tease you and Jungkook and would always say how in love he was with you but you never fully saw it.

Sure he’s defended you multiple times, has come to your rescue on multiple occasions, and always walks you home but maybe that was just him being nice.

He’d have to do much more for you to feel fully confident in his feelings towards you.

“Stop it. You would never,” you say leaning your head on her shoulder following the pace of the group.

“Tsuki!” you hear her call out and immediately panic resulting in you giving her a minor hit on her arm before staring at Tsuki and smiling at her. You end up making eye contact with Jungkook who also turned around.

“Nothing! Are we almost there?” Sua ask.

“We’re here!” she says pointing the bright shop filled with a variety of snacks.

Jimin and Minhyuk run inside grabbing snacks they know your group would enjoy leaving you, Sua, Jungkook, and Tsuki outside to stare at all the keychains, bracelets, and postcards.

Tsuki drags Jungkook over to a table opposite of you and Sua before she begins picking out random items.

“Got them! Let’s go” Jimin and Minhyuk walk out of the store with 1 bag filled to the brim of snacks for the 6 of you.

Tsuki begins to lead the group once more to a different destination in mind.

This time she led you to a steep hill. Not too steep but steep enough. You felt your legs giving out just from looking at it.

“I told you guys it was a bit of a walk but I promise the sights on the way up are so worth it!” she says with desperation in her voice hoping you all wouldn’t mind.

When you got ready this morning you weren’t exactly dressing for a hike.

Tsuki smiles and begins walking up and was followed by Jungkook and wherever Jungkook goes so do Jimin and Minhyuk.

“Let’s go,” Sua says walking a slower pace then the rest yet you still felt the burn after some time.

“Up ahead is a famous landmark if you guys want to go even further. You can see further out and it’s pretty during the day. Besides it’s a weekday and not many people are around if you guys are up for it,” Tsuki told the group.

You had all been walking for about 20 minutes and had finally reached an area with a bench and a sight.

“Is it the same one that people post all over their Instagram accounts to seem adventurous? Because if so, I am in,” Jimin’s eyes light up

“Yeah I mean we’re already here,” Minhyuk says with energy received after eating a bar of chocolate.

The group begins to move again before you interrupt.

“You guys go ahead! I’m going to rest here and wait for you guys. My shoes are making it slightly uncomfortable to walk,” you voice gets audibly quieter as you speak.

You look at Jungkook whose eyes don’t leave yours for a second watching you lift your leg off the ground just slightly to ease the tension in it.

“I’ll stay with you if you want,” Sua says staring at you.

“It’s fine, really, go enjoy the view,” you say looking back at the group and realizing his eyes haven’t left your face at all.

His expression read worried before his attention was pulled by Tsuki, “Jungkook, let’s go?” she begins walking away and Jungkook stares at you one last time before following suit.

You watch as the rest of the group continues walking uphill and sit on the bench staring out.

It had been about half an hour since the group left and you were growing bored.

As you take out your phone a hand reaches in front of your face holding a carton of strawberry milk with a straw poked in.

Jungkook always does it for you.

“You didn’t go with the rest of the group?” you say smiling up at him and take the strawberry milk from his hands.

“I saw a stand of drinks when we were walking and you said strawberry milk always makes you feel better,” you listen to him as you take a sip of the sweet drink and watch him sit next to you.

“Besides, I’m tired anyways,” he looks back up to where the group originally left from before speaking once more, “…they’re probably going to take a while. Do you want to explore?” he says looking at you.

“Explore?” you stare at him as he smiles at you and begins grabbing your bag and placing it over his shoulder and allowing you to get up before walking a bit further down.

“Tsuki failed to mention there’s a cable car that takes you directly to the land mark,” Jungkook says leading you to the cable car waiting for passengers.

“Oh my god if Sua found out about this she would be so annoyed! She was also starting to get irritated with all the walking,” you say taking another sip of your drink.

He’s staring at you like you hung the stars and leads you to the cable car before the two of you sit and watch the trees pass by as the machine gets higher and higher.

“You’re not afraid?” he says looking over at you and you shake your head.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of when I’m with you,” you say with the biggest smile and he stares away before you can watch his face flush

From there you completely forgot about your friends, Tsuki, and time.

Jungkook led you to other areas he thought you’d like. He bought you both ice cream and even bought you a small plushie to put on your bag because you said it reminded you of him. Eventually you two ended up on the beach collecting shells and staring at the sunset. Afterwards you decided to enjoy the view from the pier.

You watched him staring out at the birds flying above the waters and promised yourself you wouldn’t give up. Even if it took you years for him to reciprocate his feelings you would not be giving up.

When he turned to stare at you it caused you to immediately fluster and face the sea pretending you weren’t staring.

He was the one watching you this time. He was thinking about the carnival that’s coming to your city soon. He was thinking about the fireworks they would be releasing at 10 PM sharp. He was thinking about how you would react to him asking you out.

Would you turn him down? Jungkook was well aware your feelings for him were serious but he was never sure how to make it obvious he too had them.

Would you say yes and kiss him like you had in his dreams?

He would just have to wait and hope for it all to workout.

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook

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stormikitty · 2 days

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Vaggie's Past

I've seen tons of fics and tumblr posts with 2 different ideas about Vaggie's past. 1 being that she had a human life before she became an exorcist angel, and the other being that she grew up in heaven and was raised by Adam and Lute and the other exorcists. Idk which 1 I like better, but I have headcanons for both. And I've sort of imagined conversations for how the other characters would find out?

1:Vaggie had a human life:

Charlie: Hey Vaggie? Are you heavenborn, or a human soul?

Vaggie: it's complicated? When a human soul becomes an exorcist, the first part of their training involves magic induced amnesia. They're forced to forget everything about their lives including their own name, and they're given a new 1. I know I was a human at some point, but I don't remember anything. Some things stick, like languages, and some strong feelings about certain things even if there's a lack of context for it, but I don't remember who I was or any of the people I might've known. Every earthborn exorcist has maybe 1 vivid memory from their life, but it never actually tells them anything about who they used to be or who they know. I think that's to make it easier to erase any individuality more quickly and make us forget if any of our morals didn't originally align with what exorcists do. Turns us into perfect soldiers quicker. If I remembered my real name, I probably wouldn't be going by the 1 that Adam gave me. He literally named me after a vagina.

Chalie: *hugging Vaggie*

Anyone else who heard this: ...

2: Heavenborn Vaggie:

Vaggie: I was never a child.

Angel Dust: What did you just come into existence fully grown or something?

Vaggie: No, I still had to grow and develop like anyone else would.

Husk: Then you were a child.

Vaggie: I was raised to be the perfect soldier since the moment I was born. A soldier isn't allowed to be a child.

Everyone: WHAT?!

Charlie: Why didn't your parents protect your from that?

Vaggie: A lot of exorcist angels are born from flowers instead of other angels. I was 1 of them. I was raised by exorcists and grew up with exorcists.

Alastor or Angel Dust: You were born from a flower? Like Thumbilina?

Husk: They took away your childhood?!

Vaggie: Yeah. I had to be a gown up almost as soon as I could start walking and talking.

Nifty: What was it like being raised by exorcists? Other than the fact that you weren't allowed to be a kid?

Vaggie: I was surrounded by high standards and expectations I had to meet and not allowed to have much if any individuality. Exorcists aren't even given names until after their 1st extermination. They have numbers until then. Also, you know how exorcists have those black stipes on their wings? Those don't appear until their 1st extermination either. Also I was taught to value loyalty and strength more than anything else. Loyalty goes above strength, but not by much. And the second I showed even the slightest hesitation to follow an order, I was cast out of heaven in probably 1 of the most brutal and painful ways possible by 1 of the people I trusted the most. So there's that.

Everyone: *ready to throw hands with some exorcists again*

Charlie: *crying*

Nifty: ... Wanna build a pillow fort and watch cartoons?

#the flower thing and the thumbilina comparison were from a fanfic i read and it kinda stuck #and these are all building off of other things i've read that other people said to some extent #i also really like the idea that Husk was a war veteran in life #vaggie #vaggatha #hazbin hotel #chaggie #nifty hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #charlie hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel exorcists #headcannons #also i think vaggie would really like she-ra and the princesses of power #for various reasons

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shadow1515 · 3 days

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Too Sweet

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard/Female, Surface Reader Word Count: 5,138 Warnings: a lot, rape/non-con, older man (he’s a zombie basically)/younger woman (reader is 20), monster fucking, size kink, rough sex, gun play, blood kink, glove kink?, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie Summary: Your father dead, brother gone in search for his killers, mother gone in search for him, you were left alone in the wilderness. You thought you knew how to take care of yourself, but that idea is challenged when a certain ghoul in a cowboy hat shows up at your dining room table. Tags: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNINGS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. Please, read the warnings, if any of this triggers you do not continue!!!!!!!!!! Note: first post here, but i also posted on ao3 where i have posted fics before... just... bear with me, the brain rot was real for this one. I have never written anything at this level of depravity but this yucky looking man without a nose took hold of me and I had to write this. I did most of it when I should have been studying for a quiz, but it's fineeeee. Anyway, please enjoy this 5k word piece of filth that was only read through once…… (And yes the title is based off Hozier’s song Too Sweet.)

You were born and raised on the surface with its sandy horizons and burning sun, but your life was definitely better than most others who live on the surface of this godforsaken world. Your parents had found a nice place with tons of supplies, the ability to grow plants, a water filter, and it was hidden fairly well. You weren’t entirely sure how they had found such a haven in the wasteland, but honestly you couldn’t complain too much. Alongside your older brother, you grew up knowing how to grow your own food, hunt, defend yourself, create booby traps, the normal things every kid grew up learning. You were also one of the lucky few that was taught how to read and write as your mother had been taught by her parents and passed it onto you and your brother, something you were forever grateful for.

Books were a solace for you, one of the few you could find, especially after your brother ran off to god knows where and your mother went off in search of him just a few months ago. After your father passed away three years ago, your brother felt it necessary to be the “man of the house” and make sure you and your mother were taken care of. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for his protection and watchful eye, but he could be a little extreme at times. Your father died just over a year ago, and it was hard on all of you. Perhaps your brother took it a bit harder since he never showed his sadness about it… only his anger. See, your father was killed by some raiders on one of his outings to get more supplies. Your brother was with him when it happened but managed to escape. You were almost one hundred percent sure that was where your brother had gone; looking for your father’s killers.

Unfortunately, that had been just over four months ago. A few days ago your mother grew sick of it and went to try and find your brother, leaving you all alone. You knew how to protect yourself and make sure the house was protected and hidden, but that didn’t mean you liked being alone or that you didn’t worry every day about your missing family. In fact, it made it worse.

You felt your patience and sanity wearing thin as the days went on and you heard nothing from your mother or brother. You were worried sick, the only things keeping you from running off by yourself were tending to the farm and the chickens, checking on the water filter, reading your books, really anything to distract you from the inevitable truth;that your family was dead.

One day, you were out tending to the livestock and farms for most of the day. It was starting to get dark and mostly everything was done, so it was about time to head inside for the night. As soon as you opened the door, you could tell something was off. Maybe it was the slightly larger, sandy footprints through the hallway, or the way that everything around you seemed to stand still, either way you knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough. Even with your added paranoia from being alone for a few days, your reflexes couldn’t have prepared you enough for the sight of a man… no, a ghoul, lounging at your dining table. Seat pulled back, feet on the table, fingers lazily playing with the trigger of the sawed off shotgun that was pointed directly at you.

Part of his face was obscured by a ragged hat, but you could still tell that he was a ghoul, his face covered in scars, red and shiny from the radiation. He slowly lifted his head, dark eyes shining in the setting sun streaming through the window, the black hole where his nose should have been even more prominent as his gaze slowly trailed from your muddy boots up your bare legs (you wanted to wear shorts, it was hot out), across your curves until they finally landed on your face, lingering on your parted lips for a moment too long in your opinion.

Your eyes, on the other hand, kept on moving between his ruined face to the gun pointed at you in quick succession, not knowing which to focus on more. Before you could think of doing anything else, he finally spoke.

“Well, sweetheart, seems you found yourself in quite the predicament here.” The words roll off his tongue easily, like they were practiced, used, normal for him to utter. That nickname too, so antagonizing and belittling with just two syllables. It made your blood boil… not like that… right?

You attempted to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes still flicking between the barrel of the gun and the ruined face before you. Your very apparent lack of thoughts and speech only made the ghoul chuckle. It was a deep sound, like a rumble of the earth during a thunderstorm, the vibrations running all through your body, unyielding to the forces that surround you.

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

The question was not meant to be answered, in fact it made all semblance of words leave your mouth entirely. He stood up then, the spurs on his boots startling you as he took step after step closer to you, the gun in his hand hanging loosely at his side. At first, you didn’t move, but as he got closer, you took a fearful step back, not realizing until it was too late that he maneuvered you in such a way as he was getting closer so now your back was flush against the wall. The ghoul was close now, too close, so close you could feel his body heat, the stench of his breath from his yellowed mouth, the gunpowder and cigarettes and booze that lingered on him like a haze after a fire. He was terrifying.

You let out a pathetic squeak as the end of his shotgun found its place underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make sure you looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes weren’t an evil yellow or filled with contempt, they were a deep brown, a soft brown, and they were filled with an emotion you really could not place. The position you were in was compromising, with his face inches from your own (his hips inches from your own). And that look in his eyes. Why couldn’t you figure it out?

The cool metal of the gun felt as if it was burning you as he tipped your head back just a bit more, his dark eyes focused on yours, “Ain’t you just a sweet little thing, all alone, no way of protectin’ yourself.” You did have a way of protecting yourself, it was called booby traps that he somehow managed to get by, but you bit your tongue.

“What do you want with me?” You managed to speak that one question that was burning in your mind in spite of the shivers of fear that ran down your spine as your chin moved the shotgun touching it.

At that little comment from you, the ghoul smirked like the bastard he was, “Well you see, missy,” You felt a surge of relief followed quickly by terror again as the gun left your chin only to trail down your neck and land on the collar of your tank top, a collar that was already pretty low cut (again, it was hot). The barrel caught in the fabric as he continued to speak, “I have it on good information that this little abode of yours happens to also be the home of a stupid boy who crossed paths with the wrong man.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Your fucking brother, off doing who knows what, stirring up the worst kind of trouble. He wanted to avenge your father, you knew that, but did he not think? Of course he didn’t. He thought it would be all unicorns and daisies as he tracked down a pack of murderers. Why would he think twice about the trouble that would bring onto you?

“Look, I–” You gave a dry swallow as the gun at your chest pushed further beneath your shirt, just shy away from tugging it to the side and taking a peek. “You’re looking for my brother, right? I-I don’t know where he is. He left months ago and then my mother–” You cut yourself off, you didn’t want your mother caught up as this bounty hunter’s prey as well.

The ghoul cocked his head to the side, eyes never leaving your face even as the gun moved the fabric of your tank top to the side, your cleavage very obviously there for the looking. “Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart. Please, tell me more about your dear mama.”

You felt the tears on your cheeks before you realized they even formed in the first place. Why did this have to happen? You were blessed, you knew that, with this home and your family, but that didn’t mean you had to have horrible things happen to you as well. You already lost your father, your brother and mother were gone, but you didn’t do anything.

The ghoul’s gaze followed the tears as they trailed down your face, a twisted pleasure running through him as he watched them. You were too sweet for this world, too sweet for a man like him to find you all alone like this.

Without much extra thought, you felt the ghoul position his leg between yours, the rough material of his pants around his thigh immediately rubbing against the cloth covering your bottom half. The movement caught you off guard and another gasp of surprise left your mouth, a fresh wave of tears trailing down your face. So that was what he wanted… Growing up you learned what it was that made babies, the simple things like that, but you were sheltered, never leaving your home or the confines of your land, much preferring to stay with your family and not venture out into the dangerous unknown. And it was made dangerous because men, of things, like him.

“Awh, what is it, darlin’?” You heard the gun click into its holster at his side, one hand moving to grip your hip with a strength that really shouldn’t have shocked you, the other moving towards your face, his gloved thumb swiping at the tears gathering there. You mewled again as his thigh moved, the rough fabric causing unwanted friction in an unwanted place. “You scared of little ol’ me?”

“Please,” The fear you felt before only grew as the realization dawned on you. He wanted information and he knew the only way of getting it out of you would be to hurt you… but that didn’t have to mean just cuts and bruises, especially for a man like him. “Please don’t do this. I- I don’t know anything else.”

You knew it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. You just wanted to protect your mother, and maybe you could convince him of that. At least, you hoped you could.

The ghoul moved the hand on your face down, resting on the collar of your shirt, “Sweetheart, you really don’t know how the world works out there, do ya?” His face moved closer to yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, “It’s eat or be eaten, darlin’, and you ain’t telling me what I wanna know.”

“But-” You hiccuped as fresh tears left your eyes, “But I don’t know anythi–”

A sharp gasp that bordered on a scream escaped you as the hand at your hip left to join the other one and a loud ripping sound invaded your senses, your tank top now ripped clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to him.

Damn, your skin was so soft. Not a scar on your body, just some dirt and scrapes from working outside. The sweat from the sun still lingered on your skin, making it glow, and that scent, it alone was enough to make a ghoul go feral. But he could stave off that feeling if he found a way to get rid of it.

The ghoul’s eyes found yours again in spite of your breasts being right there. “Sweet thing,” God you hated how small his nicknames made you feel. “I don’t think you’re understandin’ still. I got a bounty to find, you know how to find ‘em, and, well, I know a fun way to get it outta ya.”

At that last comment you felt the rough leather of his gloves finally touch your breast, squeezing and toying with them in a way you never thought possible. His hands were everywhere, twisting, rough, strong, it made your skin sweat and your back arch. You whimpered as he tugged at your nipples, the pain mixed with a different feeling, one that didn’t feel that bad. As your back arched, your hips unintentionally bumped against his and you felt something hard poke at you. Your eyes widened in shock, the nice feeling from before immediately dissipating as your situation dawned on you again. With that thought, a renewed vigor filled you, your hand clenching in a fist that was raised and swung at the monster’s face.

Your punch landed with a loud thud but to your horror he didn’t even flinch, just stopped his ministrations on your breasts to glare at you, his anger radiating off of him in waves.

A cruel smirk grew on his scarred face, “There’s that fight I was looking for.”

His sentence was punctuated with a harsh slap across your face, the force making your vision blink out for a couple of seconds as your head swung to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth and felt a strong hand grip your jaw, harshly moving your head so that it faced him again.

“You wanna try that again, sweetheart, or are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know?”

Despite your fear and the knowledge that this man, this ghoul, could kill you in a matter of seconds, it would take more than that to get you to give up your mother and brother to him. With that thought in mind, you gathered up some of the blood in your mouth and spit at him, the red liquid splattering over his already reddened face.

The hand at your jaw moved to grip your throat, squeezing just enough to cause discomfort and fear that he could do much worse. You watched in horror as his free hand then moved to gather up some of the blood on his face, the finger now sticky and shiny with it moving to his mouth as he licked it clean, a face of pure pleasure overcoming him as he tasted you.

“You taste sweeter than apple pie,” Your throat was squeezed tighter as his face grew closer to yours, his missing nose making it easier to invade your space. “And that just makes me wanna taste you even more.”

His head immediately moved to your neck where you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his hand moved to grab at your face to keep you from moving. You squirmed in his grasp as you felt a rough tongue drag against your skin, the feeling foreign to you. It seemed like he really was tasting you, licking at the sweat and grime that coated your skin, savoring the taste. Your body tried to wriggle free, a scream warbled by the grip he had on your cheeks as you felt the blunt ends of his teeth bite deep into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The force in which he bit down was sure to leave a mark, the abused flesh turning red and irritated almost immediately.

You wanted to pass out right then and there, your mind racing with thoughts of what he might do to you next. He lingered at your neck for a moment before giving it one last swipe of his tongue and returning to look you dead in the eyes, a wicked smile on his scarred skin. Your face was smushed together by his gloved hand and you watched as his gaze traveled back to your neck, back to the mark he left there. His hand quickly followed that gaze, trailing over the mark before gripping your throat again. You saw as the thoughts and emotions raced behind his eyes but you didn’t know where they would lead.

Without any more warning, the ghoul used the hand on your throat to swing you around, slamming your back onto the table. You tried to get out from under him, swinging your arms and legs wildly, screaming (not that anyone would hear you), trying to land a punch or a kick, anything to get away. The ghoul grabbed a hold of your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the table above your head as his free hand went to his waist, grabbing the shotgun from its holster and pointing at your face once again.

Your struggle stopped the moment you heard the holster pop open, your terror growing tenfold as you knew at this distance, one simple slip of his finger would cause your entire head to explode off your body. The ghoul’s smirk was horrible, devilish, and it turned your blood ice cold. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to you until it brushed against your pursed lips still stained red from your blood.

You knew what he wanted you to do, but you couldn’t, the thought making you want to die on the spot. The ghoul didn’t seem to like that, though, the barrel pushing against your lips more roughly.

“Open wide, darlin’” His voice was dark, gravely, filled with irritation but also wild interest, or perhaps lust. “You really don’t wanna make me even more angry.”

You looked deep into his eyes, the flakes of red across his face from your blood making him appear even more frightening, even more like a monster only seen in children’s stories. You knew if you hesitated any longer he’d be more than happy to pull the trigger and blow your head clean off. Your vision grew blurry as more tears formed, your mouth opening just the slightest amount to allow for the gun to slide past your lips. The taste of metal and gunpowder made you want to gag, your eyes finding the dark ones above you as a slow exhale of breath left the ghoul’s mouth, his gaze transfixed on the way his gun slid deep into your mouth.

“Ain’t that a sight,” He spoke in a low tone, voice filled with fascination.

The gun moved deeper into your mouth, the taste giving way to pain as it pushed against the back of your throat, your mouth wrapping painfully around it, stretching it in uncomfortable ways. You felt it begin to leave your mouth before pushing back in, the slow fucking of your throat by a gun making your tears only increase, the gaging sensation becoming more prominent. You tried to move your arms, to get the gun out of your mouth, but his grip was too strong, his fascination with the scene he created too enticing for him to stop. You felt a hard poke against your thighs as they draped over the end of the table and were pinned by the ghoul’s strong body. You continued to gag around the gun as he fucked it faster and rougher into your face, his breaths becoming louder above you. The hard poke from before rubbed against your thigh as he continued, unprovoked, or perhaps more enticed by your tears and the pathetic sounds attempting to leave around the thick barrel of his gun.

“It’s a damn good thing you ain’t out in the real world, pretty lady. You woulda been eaten right up the moment someone laid eyes on ya.”

His final comment was finished as the gun was shoved further down your throat, a garbled scream rising from you only to be smothered by the metal. He finally removed the weapon from your mouth, saliva making the metal glisten in the dying light from the sun outside. Your cheeks felt burning hot, covered in your tears and sweat as you were given some reprieve from his assault.

The ghoul looked over his gun, that same bastardly smirk still prominent on his face as he placed it back in its holster, leaving your spit still on it. “Now that was fun, wasn’t it sweetheart,” You tried to glare at him, but didn’t dare speak, your mouth too sore and abused. Your small fight made the ghoul chuckle again, the hand holding your wrists dragging you up from the table with a harsh yank. His face was inches from yours again as he held you in the air, the only thing keeping you from falling was his grip on your hands and his hips digging into yours against the table. “Wanna tell me where you dear mama is now?”

So this torture was still to get information out of you. You loved your mother, you couldn’t bear the thought of giving her up so easily just to save your own skin.

“Fuck you.” Your voice was strained, your throat throbbing in pain at each syllable.

“I hoped you’d say that.” With a shove, he threw you to the floor, moving to stand over you. With your limbs finally free, you scrambled to get away, but he was too quick, one heeled boot slamming down on your leg with enough force to stun you. You screamed out in pain, eyes going wide as you watched him reach for his belt, foot still pressed against your leg, keeping you from moving. His hands worked slowly, the terror building up in you at each passing second. His belt came off far too quickly followed by the button of his pants.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see where this was going. You heard the rustle of fabric as the ghoul removed his foot from your leg and went to straddle you, strong thighs on either side of your hips, one hand slammed against the floor beside your head, the other grabbing your jaw in a vice-like grip.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” You hesitated before giving in as his grip strengthened to the point of pain, making you gasp and your eyes fly open. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.”

The tears never seemed to stop, his hand leaving your jaw only to rip your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh tug, the fabric burning against your too sensitive skin. You didn’t dare look down, your gaze staying fixed on his, hoping that if you didn’t look then it wasn’t actually going to happen.

In spite of your prayers, you felt the rough leather of a gloved finger run through your folds, a sharp intake of breath the only sound you made. Your attempts at staying quiet were soon overcome as his finger found that secret spot just at the top of your cunt, the roughness of the glove and the fear that was coursing through your blood made it even more sensitive and a small mewl of discomfort left your lips.

The ghoul continued to rub at your clit, your thighs beginning to shake, the sounds escaping your throat enough to make your skin boil in shame. “C’mon, pretty lady, do ya really wanna make this harder on yourself?” He went to whisper in your ear again, his fingers working magic against you. “I can make this feel so good for ya, just tell me what I wanna hear.”

Your hips began to buck against his hand, your moans growing louder as his thumb remained on your clit, one finger entering your cunt and it was like you were seeing stars. You had never done anything like this before, never really had the chance to. You experimented by yourself of course, but having someone else do it to you? It was on a whole other level.

You chased your peak like it was the only thing standing in the way of your survival, your hips shaking, mouth agape, eyes still fixed on the dark ones above you. You were so close. You could feel it building, boiling over–

A pathetic cry left you as he removed his hand, bringing it up to his face as he inspected the wetness now coating his fingers. With that same hand he gripped your cheeks, your own fluids coating your face, the scent invading your senses.

“I said I could make ya feel good, but you haven’t given me anythin’ in return yet.” His tone was so cocky, so arrogant, and yet it sent warmth shooting down to your core, unbidden and unwelcome to your mind, but it was received with exaltation as it fueled the slowly dying fire within you.

“Please–” It was pathetic, you knew that, and you weren’t even sure what you were saying please to, please stop, please don’t stop, please let me come mr ghoul sir?

Your desire was partially snuffed out as you felt something large and warm slap against your stomach. The suddenness of it made you forget to not look down as your gaze landed on the ghoul’s cock. It was big, the skin red and irritated, scarred from the radiation, just like the rest of his body. As much as the pleasure he was giving you before felt amazing, you couldn’t take that thing.

“That can’t fit,” You spoke hurriedly, the fear taking hold once more. “Please, I-I don’t know anything! I can’t help you, just please don’t put that in me.” Your sobs grew hysterical, tears free flowing, incoherent mumbles leaving you. “Sweetheart, you really think I care?”

He was cruel, he was a monster, a horrible, despicable monster.

The ghoul reached for his discarded belt, using it to tie your wrists together above your head as you tried to squirm away from him again. And you watched in terror as one of his hands guided the head of his cock to hit against your opening, the other hand roaming down your neck to grab at your breasts again. The tip of him tried to get inside of you and you already felt like you would die right there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you are tight.” His gaze left his cock and moved to look at you again, “You never been fucked before, have ya?”

Your blabberings and the fear in your eyes was enough of an answer for him. “Damn, didn’t think I’d find a cunt as sweet as yours in this place.” He finally managed to push in, the pain was horrible, it made your insides burn, your mind going blank. “Makes me wanna stay here just a bit longer, still gotta know where your little shit of a brother is afterall.”

Your mind was gone, overcome with pain as he pushed more of his length into you, heedless of your squirming, your tears, the resistance he felt as he kept on going deeper and deeper.

It was horrible, you were glad your brain tried to block out other thoughts, albeit in vain as he pulled out just to slam back into you, fully sheathed in your tight cunt.

“You’re gripping me like a vice, darlin’, I dunno if I can even get out.” He gave a soft chuckle at that, punctuated with a sharp tug from your warmth only to shove it back in at a brutal pace.

You couldn't take it, couldn’t comprehend how this was happening to you. Distantly, you heard as his gloves came off, the rough skin of his fingers grabbing your hip with enough strength to form bruises while the other other arm braced against the floor beside your head, using it as leverage to rut into you. Your legs were splayed around his, your back scraping against the wooden floor, digging sharp lines into your skin.

You could faintly hear quiet sounds escape the man above you as he fucked you, his arms moving to grab your legs, bending them until your knees were beside your head, allowing him to reach even deeper into you. The head of his cock felt like a nail was being hammered into your cervix with each thrust. Your glazed eyes wandered down to see where you were joined and a jolt of horror ran through you. Each time he rammed into you, your belly bulged up a bit, it was like he was rearranging your insides to make more room for him.

The ghoul’s gaze followed yours and a louder grunt left him, one hand leaving your leg to press against the bulge on your belly. “Darlin’, you’re just too good for this fucked up world.”

The house was filled with the noises of flesh meeting flesh, your eyes were blank, staring up at the ceiling his thrusts continued. You didn’t want to think, to feel, to exist anymore. But the ghoul has other plans. Your face scrunched up as you felt a textured finger find your clit once more, rubbing it in all the right ways to make your mind snap back into focus. The pleasure was building again, each snap of his hips mixed with the bundle of nerves at your center being played with and you were reaching that peak again. Your moans intermingling with the slapping of flesh on flesh, you didn’t want to reach that crest and fall over it, you didn’t want this encounter to feel good for you too, but by god it did.

Your voice was raw as it screamed out, your pleasure pushed over the edge as you came, your thighs coating with your fluids, the noises becoming even more obscene as he continued to fuck you harder and faster.

“Goddamn, you are just too fucking good.”

His hands gripped your hips as his pace quickened but lost its rhythm. You knew he was getting close and the overstimulation of being fucked through and beyond your orgasm was making it hard to think of anything other than him. His hips finally stopped pistoning into you, giving one last, rough thrust as something hot and sticky filled you up, leaking out around his cock that remained in you.

The ghoul braced his hands on either side of your head, his eyes zeroed in on yours, breath heavy, sweat on his brow. “You gonna help me out now, sweetheart?”

Your head lolled to the side, eyes closing as you passed out.

#dark!fic #shadow writes #fallout show #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul smut #cooper howard smut #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #pls read the warnings #minors dni #also i am very scared to post this here...#so if it gets taken down at some point that's why #you can find it on ao3 tho

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