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dark-fics-4-you · 2 months

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Thinking about dark overprotective Rafe Cameron with pregnant clumsy reader 🥹💕

Love Plus One

A/N: i hope this lives up to your fantasies 😉

Warnings: noncon/forced sex, coercion, smut, forced pregnancy (but reader doesn’t know), pregnant sex, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, choking, slut shaming, slapping, controlling behavior, threats of violence, reader has some negative thoughts about her pregnant body

After the first time that you slipped in the shower without Rafe there to catch you, despite that fact that you had easily caught yourself before falling, Rafe had made you promise to not take any more showers without him. “If I had been there, you probably wouldn’t have slipped in the first place,” he grumbled.

Rafe suddenly became very involved in prepping and cooking meals for you. He gave you plenty of options, planning weekly menus for you and shopping accordingly, all to make sure that both you, and his baby, were getting all of the nutrients you needed. Rafe always did love your cooking, but now he chose to cook for you practically every night. “You shouldn’t have to be running around the kitchen when you’re pregnant, baby.”

You noticed one day that there was a location tracking app on your phone that you hadn’t downloaded, when you angrily asked Rafe about it, the look of worry on his face almost made you want to cry, “I just get anxious when you’re out sweetheart. The world is full of men that would love nothing more than to hurt you, and I did that to make sure you were staying safe, Y/N.” His eyes flicked between your eyes and your growing belly, which was now beginning to show much more. After that you apologized to him for getting mad about it, giving him a big hug.

Rafe would want to spend all of his time with you, which you found cute at first, but after a while, you started to feel a bit suffocated by him. Your boyfriend was so concerned about “keeping you safe” that he would barely allow you to leave your shared house.

Even walking around the neighborhood or, god forbid, running, was completely off limits.

You knew that it was because you were clumsy, he was right. You always had been, but now was not the time for being accident prone. Not when you had Rafe Cameron’s child growing inside of you.

However, you did feel like at times he could be overprotective of you. Even demeaning occasionally. Like he didn’t trust you to make your own decisions.

When you drove to the store at just 4 months pregnant, Rafe called you 5 times before you finally picked up. You had just wanted to get out of the house for a bit and enjoy the spring air while getting some chores done, but when you returned home one would have thought that you had been skiing on Mount Everest, given Rafe’s reaction. “Why would you leave without telling me? I would have gone to the store for you, Y/N! You shouldn’t have even been carrying those bags by yourself!” Pointing out how little you had actually ended up purchasing, just two plastic bags worth of things, was pointless. “You could have fallen or-or some guy could have kidnapped you!” He huffed, and you could feel the list of locations you could go alone, or even with Rafe, dwindling down to only one place, your apartment.

Rafe had always been incredibly touchy with you, one of the reasons you had gotten pregnant with his baby in the first place. It’s not that you didn’t want kids, you had just always imagined that it would have been different, you would be older and married, and living in a 2 story house with your husband of several years.

Instead, here you were, still in your early 20s, pregnant with your boyfriend of 3 years’ child. You loved Rafe and could see yourself marrying him one day, but you were both still so young! Getting pregnant this early had never been in the plans.

Despite using birth control and condoms, you had somehow gotten pregnant, a fact that took you a while to accept, and after Rafe urged you to not get an abortion, you begrudgingly accepted that you were going to be a mother a couple years sooner than expected.

Of course, you had no idea that this was no accident at all. Rafe had been swapping out your birth control pills for placebos and poking holes in every condom he put on. Of course one of his favorite things about you being pregnant was that he could finally fuck you raw now.

Pregnancy hormones had definitely upped your libido at the beginning of your pregnancy, a fact that thrilled Rafe. He had never felt so desired by you, and he was more than happy to oblige with all of your requests.

Anytime you were feeling under the weather or upset about something, Rafe would coax you into bed and eat you out for what felt like hours. He loved your changing body so much, always kissing and sucking on your full, sensitive breasts and rubbing your growing tummy. The blond would slowly delve between your plush thighs, gingerly kissing and nipping at your soft skin before turning his attention to your already slick pussy, eagerly lapping up your juices and teasing your clit.

Rafe loved to satisfy you, but he also loved to draw it out as long as possible, keeping you on the brink of coming for ten minutes before finally giving in to your begging whimpers. He loved the feeling of you coming on his tongue, the way you tasted and how you squirmed in his grasp, tears forming in your eyes when you whined that it was too much for you.

You would come again just from him teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your messy slit and tapping it against your already tender clit.

When he pushed all of himself inside of you, you hissed in a wonderful mix of pleasure and pain, wrapping your legs around his waist and digging your nails into his broad shoulders.

Rafe loved watching your face as he fucked you, the way your eyes would unfocus as you looked up at him, your plump lips separating and the beautiful sound of your moans and whimpers was almost enough to make him bury his load in you immediately, but the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his cock was a sensation he didn’t want to give up just yet.

He plunged himself into your dripping pussy over and over again, filling you up in a way that made your eyes squeeze shut, toes curling as you clung to him.

After you came a third time, tensing around him and crying as you mindlessly babbled through whimpers, Rafe’s large hand covered your mouth, and the doe eyes you gave him as he frantically rutted into you made him spill all of his warm cum into your soaked cunt.

Every time he pulled out of you, he would reach for your sensitive pussy, spreading your lips and watching his cum begin to drip out of you before pushing it deeper inside your pussy with two fingers. God he wished he could get you pregnant again while you were already pregnant. Just one kid wasn’t enough for Rafe Cameron, and unbeknownst to you, he had plans for the two of you to have a large family.

Gradually, as your body changed, so did your sex drive. Rafe showered you with compliments as always, reminding you constantly how much he loved your body and the way it looked now, which made you a bit torn. Personally, you felt you were now less desirable, and it made you much more reluctant to give in to his high demands.

Rafe respected your boundaries at first, although he never failed to complain about his needs not being met, and even though you were sure of your decisions, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you couldn’t satisfy him sexually every night.

After a full week of you denying him, Rafe was fed up with your ‘no’s’

“Maybe we shouldn’t have sex tonight Rafe,” you nervously stammered. “I’m just not feeling the best about my body right now.”

“So let me make you feel good baby,” Rafe purred in your ear, sensually rubbing your thighs, which you were squeezing together.

You still didn’t feel up to having sex tonight, and you told your boyfriend as much, but it was like he wasn’t listening to you.

His fingers creeped down your thighs, his strong arms slowly pried your legs apart and you flinched when he began rubbing you over the fabric of your shorts.

“Rafe, please.” You begged with him, anxiety building in your chest when he still didn’t stop.

“Please what?” He mocked you, slipping his fingers past your panties and teasing your clit. You squirmed in his grasp, a sick feeling settling in your gut when you realized Rafe was determined to get what he wanted.

When you tried to push his hand away, the other flew out, slapping you across the face, hard enough to shock you without leaving a mark.

“Stop fucking moving!” He shouted at you and you could feel tears welling behind your eyes. “You’re gonna hurt our baby.”

You tried to tell him that you didn’t want to have to fight off your boyfriend of 3 years, that you were only resisting in the first place because he hadn’t respected your ‘no,’ but when Rafe pushed all of himself inside of you with one thrust, your mind went blank and you froze beneath him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, arms shaking slightly as he basked in the feeling of your unprepared cunt squeezing his cock. “I swear to god, you’ve only gotten tighter, baby. Y’feel so good.”

Hot tears were streaming down your cheeks, from both physical discomfort and distress at what your boyfriend was doing to you, the way he was violating you.

Every stroke of his cock was agonizing, and even after your body had adjusted and it began to feel good, the fact that you hadn’t wanted this at all tainted the entire experience. You felt ashamed by the delicious way his cock stretched you out and how your body reacted to his touch.

You had given up fighting back altogether, Rafe’s thinly veiled threat echoing in your ears every time you wanted to push him off of you, although his hands had yours gripped so tight, there was no chance you could have gotten away.

You were scared because Rafe was hurting you, but you were even more terrified at the thought of him hurting your baby.

When your release hit you unexpectedly, you felt utterly betrayed by your body. Your tear choked whimpers filled the room as you came around him, accompanied by the lewd sounds of Rafe plunging his cock into you repeatedly.

Rafe sneered down at you as he snapped his hips against yours, “I thought you didn’t want this, hm? So reluctant until I stuff my cock in you and then you can’t get enough.”

His words made your face burn with shame, and your stomach flipped in disgust at both him and yourself.

When his free hand wrapped around your throat, your eyes widened and you jerked against his touch, but his hold on you was unwavering and unforgiving.

“I’m not gonna let you walk all over me just because you’re pregnant.” Rafe seethed, his pace picking up as he chased his release. “You’ve got my kid growing inside you. Just means you belong to me now even more than you did before.”

His fingers tightened around your throat as he came, choking you so hard your vision started to grow fuzzy and black around the edges. The feeling of his sticky cum coating your walls made you want to throw up.

Rafe pulled out and you realized he was talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything he said, you just nodded numbly, trying to come back to reality as your ears rang and his muffled voice filled the tense air that was permeating the room.

“-maybe now you’ll actually fucking listen to me,” he rambled on, and as you nervously laid in bed beside him, trying to doze off and forget everything that he had just done to you, you realized you were utterly terrified of your boyfriend.

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron noncon #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfic #dark!rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #love plus one

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jiminrings · 2 months

Text

fail-safe (2)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you've heard nothing about it, so you're thankful.

alternatively, yoongi reminds you of home in more ways than one.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, brother's best friend AND single dad au, eventual fluff, a lot of yearning but For What, they reunite but at what cost rlly, jealousy, self-loathing, unrequited love (initial), deja vu but in the worst possible form, eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: i am So sorry for this .

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even reading ur thoughts in the tags give me life :) | series masterlist

FIVE YEARS LATER

The trip back home wasn’t as rough as Yoongi expected it to be.

Somehow, there’s a huge difference between sitting in economy seats versus first-class seats, even if they’re situated on the same aircraft. When he left, Yoongi was irritable (amongst other things) to keep bumping elbows with everyone else; now that he’s back, he almost misses the ruckus in the cabin that’s far too cramped for everyone who could afford it.

Yoongi used to hate people like himself — atleast the version that he is now. He hated bastards sitting upfront in seats that reclined all the way back and ate off plates instead of noisy, flimsy plastic containers. Back then, deep down to his very core, he wanted that lifestyle for himself. To become bigger and better than he could ever imagine for the life ahead of him was always the goal.

Now that he’s at the peak, maybe even being the peak himself, he feels weirdly homesick.

“You need to bundle up all the way, Haneul. They’re gonna scold me if you’re not covered from head to toe,” Yoongi playfully chides his son, the insecurity and nervousness underneath his tone flying right over his head. It’s not even that cold, but still, a huge part of Yoongi worries.

He worries everyday if he’s a good dad to his four-year old. He worries if he’s good enough to be a solo parent because after all, he’s the one who has main custody of Haneul anyway. He worries and worries, but there’s nothing quite like the trepidation he feels being back home with everyone who has ever known him prior to all this success, suddenly seeing him come home.

It should be the opposite way around, that’s what everyone says to him. Yoongi had been queasy the whole flight back home despite the flight being one of the smoothest trips he’s ever been on in his life. He’s nervous to be back where he had been born and raised and he doesn’t know what’s that supposed to mean, except for the fact that he has an inkling of what the weight in his chest pertains to.

He’s back because it’s your mother’s 60th birthday. He’s back because her and Namjoon had asked him to, and he obliged without even thinking about it. Yoongi had offered numerous times to throw a party for the woman who had practically raised him alongside his closest friend, and even if Namjoon had backed him up on the grand idea for such a large milestone, she said no. All she wanted was for everyone to be back home, and Yoongi couldn’t say no.

Neither could you.

Yoongi is not the most modest person alive, but he is at his humblest when he drives the long way home just to delay the inevitable. He’s happy to the point he could be sick. He can’t tell if it’s the joy or the anxiety in his chest that makes it tighten, almost unbearably so, that he makes Haneul reach up to his forehead to check if he has a fever.

Yoongi’s home.

Not Los Angeles home, and not New York home. Not his home with a closet that’s the size of his childhood house’s living room, and not his space with the big windows and concierge downstairs.

Yoongi’s home — where the streets are narrow and the stairs are creaky; where this time, it’s all of him and none of you.

Enduring is different than working.

You’ve realized that the two concepts are drastically different as soon as Yoongi left, leaving you to survive the remaining years of your degree before you had to face the reality that you had to work to the bone for the rest of your life if you wanted a shot at living an average, food-stocked-in-the-fridge kind of life.

You didn’t know anyone who was connected to someone of importance one way or another, your family had zero ties, and you graduated from a university that raised more eyebrows in confusion than it tilted heads in awe. Your degree does havehigh promises as far as everyone in your town was concerned — it does and it should be, if only you were born and raised in different circumstances.

There’s not one acclaimed and high-profit company that would ever accept the likes of you. You worked hard and even if there were no exchange student agreements and Latin honors to show for it, you really did. You gave your best to graduate with a degree you never really liked and was only forced upon you, all for the promise of a future. It didn’t matter if it was extremely good or bad — everyone else just said you had to have one.

Your misfortune is what it is. It’s empty and haunting and the two weeks you had spent in the city right after graduating is truly something you never want to relive.

In hindsight, gambling the rest of your pocket money on a bus fare in your last day of job-hunting in the city at the time was a stupid decision. It was impulsive and irresponsible and everything your family scolded you for, what Yoongi hated you for, but it ended up being the single best gamble you’ve ever made, even above entry-level lottery tickets.

The same circumstances that held you back from where you’re supposed to head ended up propelling you to somewhere far, far different. Your degree became completely irrelevant, and the fact that you had nobody of significance in the city– no person to pass malice and gossip onto— made you a manager.

It had been a gamble to go work for an unknown entertainment company, much more a sinking one. It was an insult to have busted your ass back in your hometown, studying and working at the same time, only to work professionally in the city for a field that you didn’t even study about.

Your fate is what it is. You’ve endured and worked hard enough to the point that you had finally lucked out. Being the manager of someone who had later turned out to become the biggest actor in the industry, even in Hollywood, became your biggest break up to date.

Your way back home feels like an embrace you’ve denied yourself for far too long. You’ve mainly stayed in Seoul apart from the several hundred times you had to come with Jungkook for filming outside of the country, yet you could only count on one hand the amount of times you came home without anyone telling you to.

Coming home had become foreign to you as much as leaving it had become familiar.

“I’m near, Joon,” you hum to your phone, taking a quick glance at the cake you’ve strapped to your front seat. “It’s only us, right?”

“Yeah. Just us.”

Maybe it’s your fault for changing what us meant throughout the past five years, but Namjoon’s definition never changed. Maybe it’s your fault for not clarifying what he meant when you’re still kilometers away, when you can still leave, but nonetheless, you were cornered.

Us meant what it used to be when you were a kid in your childhood home — when Yoongi was still in the picture and you didn’t hate him for it.

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.

In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.

Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.

He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.

His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.

Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.

The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.

In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.

“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”

“I’m not immature, you asshole!”

“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”

“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing them against you.

You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.

When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.

You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.

“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”

“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”

You’re numb if that’s the word for it.

Your chest buzzes emptily the same way your fingers clench around nothing. You look at everywhere and everyone but Yoongi and his son. It’s nauseating to even think that everyone’s eating dinner as if everything’s okay; what’s even more sickening is that somehow, you’re willing to settle for it.

Yoongi is your mom’s cross-stitch project of a teddy bear that she hung up in your room one day when you were in school that you never took off by the time you came home. He’s a dent at the corner of your gate that could’ve only been made by Namjoon when he was practicing his soccer skills. He’s a Snellen chart that nobody really uses, stuck to the side of the refrigerator that you walk past.

Yoongi’s here, there, and everywhere, but you don’t question it. He’s simply there in your orbit and even if he exists, you don’t follow up on him.

You stay quiet at the talks of the sleeping situation because it turns out that Yoongi’s family had long sold their house. You never knew that throughout the several times you came down to visit.

Frankly, you’re relieved to barely know anything about Yoongi these days.

“You and Haneul can take my room,” you half-heartedly offer, not because it’s Yoongi who tugs at your heartstrings and demands your pity, but his child instead. The two, three (?) year-old baby (read: you’re too hesitant to ask what his age is because if it’s anything higher, then that meant Yoongi had moved on earlier than you did) you didn’t even know existed because you’ve completely cut off Yoongi from your life and refused to listen to Namjoon every time he talked about him, will be sleeping in your room; it just happens that he’s with his dad.

Yoongi’s awed at your preposition but he’s even more worried. He can’t tell a single thought that’s going on behind your eyes nor a single hint behind your tone. You’re formal; neutral. You’re detached even when you utter Haneul’s name and gesture them to your bedroom as if he hasn’t spent years and years of his life in your home.

“Where will you sleep?” he furrows his brows, his hand that had been rubbing circles on Haneul’s back faltering.

He’s asking because he doesn’t know anything about you at this point. He can’t tell if it’s the indigestion he has from resisting to talk your ear off at the dining table (like he’s always did when you were young) because you barely even spoke to him, or if it’s the overwhelming feeling of being back home with everything feeling familiar but you — either way, Yoongi thinks he’s gonna be sick.

“I’ll sleep at my mom’s,” you purse your lips, leaving him at that.

Between the yearning, demanding looks you get from Yoongi, the nosy and concerned glances from Namjoon, and even the guilt that you get from keeping all of your emotions from your mom when you used to confide in her religiously when you were younger — you’re drained. The urge to wash off all your anxiety can’t be done in your childhood home’s small bathroom. You can’t with the faulty water heater (you have to keep one finger pressed on the button at all times to keep it running) because you can’t even cry in peace under the either scorching or freezing water.

You can’t evade everything by grabbing a drink from the fridge that runs loudly as if it’s excavating oil from underneath your floors. You can’t curl up on the couch that’s become worn with age because there’s dents of you and Yoongi, the only two people who had sat on it the most every late night for years on end. You can’t romanticize any of the things in your home that have brought you joy all your life at this point in time.

To sleep under the same roof with your mother and brother again after so long feels foreign. It’s a language you can perceive but can’t translate and the frustration that comes with it seeps into your bones. There must be some common ground between the three of you; it should be anything and everything. With Namjoon being a world-renowned football player and you being somewhat accomplished and decorated in your field, you’ve managed to retire your mom early.

The three of you are doing fine. Not one interaction in the past five years has ever felt this tense and unfamiliar, but if you could pick just the odd one out, the very reason why you feel like falling to the floor and crawling your way out of your own home because you feel like you don’t belong to it — it’s Yoongi.

You feel awkward in your own four walls, whereas Yoongi finds your nightlight that you keep tucked in your closet without breaking a sweat.

Namjoon tugs you right when you’re about to call it a day in your mom’s room, his hushed whispers taking you back to when he pleaded for you not to rat them out whenever he and Yoongi crashed at the couch drunk.

“Give them this,” he shoves the can of bug spray into your hands, your immediate reaction making him wrestle with you just to push you closer to your own bedroom.

“No, Joon. You give it.”

“Y/N, no. You give it,” he whines, purposely having given Yoongi extra sheets and blankets earlier without the bug spray so you’d have something to take to him.

“I don’t wanna see Yoongi,” you whisper, trying to pathetically regain your footing even if you know your attempts go futile against an athlete for a brother.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snarks, giving you one last shove with a stern finger. “We’re gonna talk about whatever the hell happened between you and him, but right now, you’re gonna offer him bug spray like the gracious hosts that we are!”

You crash too far to your door that it could be mistaken as a knock, making you hiss because you know you can’t retract it. You actually knock this time, being met with nothing but a quiet Yoongi behind your own door.

Even when he opens it fully, even when it’s your own room — you enter hesitantly.

Yoongi’s already made a home out of your room. He knew where your nightlight was, knew which good extension cord (that didn’t spark every time it shifted) to plug into the wall, and even knew where you kept the magazine that you had to wedge between your windows whenever they didn’t fully close.

“Namjoon told me to give you this,” you put your hand out, looking at everything but Yoongi. You could look at Haneul who’s sprawled in the middle of the bed, but it isn’t any different than looking at his dad himself.

Yoongi, on the other hand, can’t see anything but you. He feels like an intruder who just happened to know the confines of your life almost better than his own, holding bug spray and the remainder of whatever recognition you have left for him.

“Will we ever be alright?” he whispers, not for the sake of keeping Haneul asleep, but for the sake of his sanity. If he makes his voice any louder, he’ll spill all his grievances and question if he had ever meant anything to you.

“We’ve always been alright,” you smile tightly, wrapping your hands around your back.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he pleads, swallowing the lump in his throat. “When did you ever give me bug spray? When did you have to knock on my door, o-or when did you ever have to treat me like I’m some guest and not a huge part of your life?” Yoongi stumbles over his words, correcting himself with a huff. “Most of your life.”

The sarcasm that coats the last of his words makes you twitch, the clench in your jaw being unmistakeable. Yoongi almost forgot what you looked like whenever you argued with him — talked to him, even. “Why are you only bitching about this to me and not to Namjoon? He’s the one who told me to give you the bug spray.”

“This is not about the bug spray!”

“What is it about then? Is this, is this some sort of long-winded euphemism that involves bug spray? What is it Yoongi, are you gonna hound me for an essay about it?” you spit, exhaling heavily. Haneul twitches in his sleep from the corner of your eye. “You grew up and so did I.”

Yoongi flinches like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t do this to me, kid. Don’t do this to us.”

You flinch because anything is better than to have him dig up his old nickname for you as if he’s close; as if he’s still the Yoongi that you chased, as if you’re still the Y/N he looked out for.

“Don’t call me that.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi’s in the kitchen with your mom.

He looks domestic this way, hair tousled and pajamas loose. Even if you have unbridled internet access (courtesy of the high-speed package you split with Namjoon for your mom even if the most she does online is repost motivational quotes, reels of Namjoon and his team, and clips of Jungkook where you’re seen), you can’t muster the courage to search Yoongi’s name and what he’s made of himself.

You’re too scared to search up articles about his success as a producer because if you do, you’re terrified by the thought of accidentally clicking a link that leads you to a page of him and his ex-wife.

You’re too weak to search up the songs he’s had a hand in (that is if you hadn’t heard them before) because you fear that if you even listen for a single second, you might hear how perfect his life has been ever since he left behind everything that he’s ever known.

Even now, you’re too uneasy at the sight of him. He’s in your home and he looks like the version of himself that had never left. The Yoongi in front of you, sitting on your seat at the dining table and peeling tangerines with your mom, resembles the Yoongi that would top off your glass with water whenever you ate with him.

It’s as if you’ve always been in touch for the past five years; it’s as if Yoongi has never aged and you never drifted apart.

“You’re awake,” he remarks, greeting you first before your mom could even register your presence.

“You’re still here,” you reply, the exhale that leaves you making you deflate in reflection. Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but Yoongi’s already slid over a plate to you.

“There. Just how you like them.”

There’s tangerines with barely any pith on them, and iced tea that had more ice cubes in them than there are in the freezer.

Yoongi smiles at you like you’re the old you again; the one who is more forgiving, and the one who is more hopeful.

( ♡ )

If it wasn’t for your brother guilt-tripping you into joining the impromptu road trip, you never would have come.

You didn’t want to come with them in the first place because the very thought of hanging out with Namjoon and Yoongi like old times, this time with the addition of the latter’s son, was too close; too familial. The three already knew each other and had kept in touch and you’re the odd one out. You’re the only planet out of the system and once you’ve come to think of it, that bit of their galaxy never failed. Whether you were in it or not didn’t matter — atleast that’s what you thought.

Yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you’ve heard nothing about it.

You blocked his number and on every social media account he had to his name. Even with Namjoon as a prominent variable, you’re amazed to how you��ve heard little to nothing about Yoongi ever since he left your hometown. You still talked to your brother, of course, but there was an obvious difference to how your conversations went because none of them ever went to Yoongi.

You didn’t tell him to not talk about Yoongi at all. You didn’t instruct him to never utter a single word about his closest friend whom you also grew up with. You never told Namjoon anything concerning Yoongi and what unfolded between the two of you before you left, and yet, it’s almost as if he had already been in your mind and knew exactly what to do.

You’ve come to realize that the prospect of growing up never used to be in your cards. The whole concept of it sat at the very back of your mind, the only times you used to pay attention to it being whenever Yoongi picked at your brain.

You thought your world would have ended when you were 19. You didn’t think you would grow up and see past high school. You didn’t think you would finish college, much less pick a degree to pursue in the first place. You didn’t think of having a future — you didn’t think you’d be living it now in this way.

“Joon,” you mutter, voice barely being heard at the expanse of the balcony you’re in. It’s his balcony in his vacation house he barely stays in, overlooking the waves by the beach he isn’t even that fond of to begin with.

Yoongi and Haneul are already asleep, the father-son duo knocking out way ahead than everyone else. They stayed with the two of you in the balcony hours ago, the bug spray in both the adult and kid edition being proof of it.

Tonight, alone, felt different. It’s as if the younger version of you was gazing out to what was supposed to be your future, except neither the past nor present variant of you could have ever had it for yourself.

“Hm?” he hums, sipping the last of his drink while he’s sat at the far end. You know about each other’s presence, and while years ago, the two of you would’ve been giddy staying in a house as grand as this whilst drinking behind your mom’s back, you and Namjoon grew up. You didn’t fight or anything — you simply grew up and grew apart.

“I never said it before, but thank you,” you exhale, clenching Haneul’s towel as you try to warm your hands. You may have spent the better part of the day not even acknowledging his dad, but you did fawn over him like you would with any other child. “Thank you for not telling me a thing about Yoongi.”

“You’re welcome,” Namjoon finally speaks as soon as he grasps what you were talking about, the smile on his face only lasting for a second. “If it were up to me though, I would have told you everything.”

“Good thing it’s not up to you, hm?” you laugh uneasily, running your hand through your hair. You didn’t know how much you had to be grateful for until Yoongi came back and reminded you of how little you knew about him.

Namjoon breathlessly laughs, looking up at the sky to try and condense everything that has happened through his words before you leave again. “I would have told you that he confessed what happened that time you ran away from home a couple years back, and I beat his ass. We didn’t talk for like, I don’t know, three months? Even when I was still training in the US that time.”

Your lack of a reply is what makes him take notice, the stunned look you have on your face making him snort.

“What?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed as he throws a stray bottle cap at you. “Why are you so shocked? I love him like a brother, but you’re my actual sister,” he confides his loyalty to you, yet you don’t even have a second to express your awe before he opens his mouth again. “I would have told you that I became the best man at his wedding. Even mom was there.”

“You can stop telling me these things now.”

Namjoon exhales, already feeling deep in his chest that you’re gearing up to leave. He wants to get the last word in, not to prove himself, but to try and vindicate you and the quiet suffering you endured without telling anyone.

“I would have told you that Yoongi kept trying to come back to you.”

( ♡ )

Haneul wakes up before Yoongi does.

You’re confused for a second because the moment you hear the lightest footsteps that you ever could pad along the kitchen, you become completely disoriented. There’s a child that looks like Yoongi, wandering off to where you are.

For the briefest second, your heart drops because the whole situation resembles a vignette. In another lifetime, it could’ve been your child, your Haneul, waking up before his dad, trudging to the kitchen where you are is if you’re his mom.

He’s an observant kid, far too trusting unlike his dad who used to scold you to hell and back for even entertaining strangers that asked you for directions. He’s friendly to you; to someone Yoongi had introduced as appa’s close friend. There isn’t even a single hint in how he introduced you to Haneul that the two of you stopped being close. Yoongi didn’t leave the faintest indicator to him that you most probably hated his guts and would probably choose a lifetime where he hadn’t even been in your life at all.

Haneul is innocent to yours and Yoongi’s history and it’s going to stay that way. You don’t meant to change whatever he introduced you as because by the time your mom’s birthday week is over, or by the time Yoongi takes the hint and leaves your hometown again, you would be a fleeting persona in Haneul’s life.

You’re not his mom. You’re not anyone of significance to either him and his dad.

“Good morning,” he greets shyly, his diction telling of how just attentive Yoongi is as a dad. You mostly listened to whatever Namjoon told you last night anyway, tuning out the parts where he rounded to how Yoongi had been miserable not having any contact with you (you don’t believe that at all), and instead zeroing in on the large details that you’ve missed. “Auntie.”

You smile tightly, patting the empty seat beside to you to which he climbs effortlessly.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you do know him. You know that his dad is a doting, slightly paranoid one whose current dilemma is whether or not enrolling him in kindergarten early or waiting for one more year. You know that Yoongi doesn’t want him to know about the existence of iPads for probably ever, so he spends almost every waking moment talking to him to the point that Haneul’s eloquent at speaking for his age. You also know that Namjoon’s his godfather, and that he had looked after him for a whole day by himself when Yoongi went to settle his divorce.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you know his parents. You know Yoongi is his dad, and more importantly, that Hyewon is his mom — the same Hyewon who had been with him in your room before, and the same woman Yoongi shared his success with when he made it big.

“Hi,” you greet him softly, handing him his bottle for him to drink from. It’s a warm, domestic vignette for a split second. You’ve watched Yoongi far too many times at the corner of your eye to know where he gets the distilled water. “Why are you up already?”

“Uncle Joonie promised yesterday we can watch the sunrise together,” he says in between sips, letting you comb his hair into order unconsciously. You didn’t even think of it before your hand sweeps the strands scattered on his forehead, the hum you have at the back of your throat pausing when you realized what you’ve done.

“He’s still sleeping right now. He had uh, a long night,” you mutter, at a loss for a child-friendly alternative word for hangover. You keep your hands to yourself because you fear falling into the domesticity that isn’t yours to relax into; if you think about it for a second longer, you’d think that Haneul is yours and Yoongi is the final piece to your puzzle.

“Oh. But I, I wanna watch,” Haneul frowns, brows softly furrowed at your revelation. He’s not close to throwing a tantrum, but the upset expression on his face keeps tugging at your heart to cave.

“You can take your dad with you,” you offer, willing to knock on Yoongi’s door if it meant his son smiling again.

Haneul shakes his head at that, looking up at the ceiling as he recalls the events of last night before being tucked in. “Nuh-uh. Appa had a long night too. He just kept crying.”

A part of you wishes that Haneul didn’t speak so clearly.

“What?” you clarify, heart skipping a beat the more you replay his words in your head.

“Crying?” Haneul repeats, tilting his head as he tries to figure you out. He says it again for a third time as if you needed any clarification of the word and not because of your disbelief that his dad was capable of it. “Like this,” he adds, pretending to bawl with his hands wiping at his eyes.

The scene before you is your brief moment of reprieve, making you chuckle breathlessly as you try to regain your senses. Whether or not Haneul was sure of what he was saying, if Yoongi had cried, it’s most probably not because of anything that has to do with you.

“Oh. So that’s what it means. Thank you, Haneul,” you laugh lowly, patting him on the head until you retract your hand again in realization.

Haneul thinks nothing of your trepidation; he thinks nothing of the yearning behind your eyes, and thinks nothing of the tremble in your voice.

“Can we watch the sunrise together?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as if doing so would be the equivalent of hanging the stars up for him in the sky.

(Read: it probably is, and in another lifetime, or in the far-shot that it happens in this one, you’d do it if he asks you to do so.)

You want to ask Haneul why it’s you who he wants to accompany him, but you don’t. You can wake up either Yoongi and Namjoon to go with him instead, but you won’t.

In another lifetime, this would have been your son, your Haneul asking to watch the sunrise with you. There’s a Yoongi-shaped hole and a Haneul-shaped vacancy in your chest, but you don’t prod about it further.

You don’t question what’s happening, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a tiny part of you that wants to fully accept it instead of hesitating to do so.

“Okay.”

Haneul puts his hand in yours, but you don’t pull away. You just hold him tighter.

( ♡ )

A large part of you forgot that for as long as Yoongi’s here, he’ll treat every interaction you have with Namjoon as an open invitation for him. He had always been this way; for as long as you could remember, he’ll include himself even if he isn’t needed nor wanted.

You can’t count the amount of times your mom had berated Namjoon for something and oddly enough, Yoongi also happened to be there. Whether it was to rat out on his own best friend or being at the receiving end of said scolding, Yoongi jumped at every opportunity to come along as a package deal.

When you asked Namjoon to drink with you at the balcony two days ago, Yoongi butted in and asked what brand of alcohol he should buy you at the convenience store. When you were on the way home and asked your brother what he wanted from the rest stop, Yoongi said he wanted the biggest can of coffee you could find.

And when you asked Namjoon what time you should come to the stadium to watch him practice, Yoongi said he’ll pack you an extra cap while Haneul bonded with your mom.

Sometime long ago, you and Yoongi saw each other eye to eye. You can’t determine when and how exactly, but there was a point in your life where everything you had to say to each other was what the other was thinking all along. Nowadays, you can’t even look at Yoongi in the eye while all he wanted was for you to return his gaze.

If there’s just one thing though, one single variable that remained unchanged between the two of you, it would be Namjoon.

The way Yoongi engages you in conversation this time around is not to trap you and to ramp himself up to apologize again, but purely, it’s to talk about your brother. Namjoon’s a lot of things, and one thing you pray would remain unchanged is the love you have for each other.

“Who would have thought, right?” Yoongi nudges, asking you sincerely. “Who would have thought that the Namjoon who had knockoff cleats years ago would become this world-famous athlete?” he chuckles, shaking his head as he once again tries to digest the fact that this very stadium in your hometown had been built and refashioned in his honor.

You laugh genuinely, the sound being the first he’s ever heard in such a long time.

“Abibas.”

Yoongi has his lips parted, shocked that you were even answering him.

“Abibas. That was the brand of his knockoff cleats,” you chuckle, bowing your head as you try to contain your laughter. “He could’ve bought the original with his allowance and everything, but he split it so he could also buy me knockoffs.”

Yoongi laughs at the memory you jog up in his mind, remembering distinctly how Namjoon kept asking for his opinion repeatedly on which colorway of the knockoff pair he should gift you.

Even if things are still tense between you, even if Namjoon is the only salvation that Yoongi could bring up in a conversation to which you don’t run from, nothing from the past five years could ever take this moment away from you.

The three of you have grown up. Some faster than they’d like, and some because they had no choice but to — nonetheless, in this moment, it’s the three of you back at home like it used to be.

“Namjoon was always meant for greatness. Even from the start,” you murmur, your attention waiting on Yoongi’s response even if your eyes were on Namjoon in the field.

“You are too,” he interjects quickly, voice defensive at the lack of your name to your own sentence.

“No I’m not,” you snort, crossing your arms. You’re not angry when you say it; in fact, you’re calm as if you’ve always seen it coming. “You told me I’d amount to nothing.”

You’re calm, seemingly at peace with what you just said and what Yoongi had ingrained in your head before, but he’s the furthest thing from it. His mouth hangs open, chest tightening impossibly as he shakes his head eagerly.

“I never said that!”

You’re about to counter him when you hear a familiar holler reach you at the lower section of the bleachers, eyes perking to see a familiar figure who isn’t blood-related to you.

“Y/N!” Jimin runs up to you faster than to whenever he passes the ball to Namjoon, engulfing you in a massive hug that forces you up to your feet before you know it.

“Oh my god, Jimin! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” you awe at the sight of him, unwilling to break away from the embrace until he does so. It’s been ages since you’ve seen him, the second-best player in the team (you’re biased because of course Namjoon had been the best player to you since you were kids) being the closest member to you out of everyone.

Jimin doesn’t care for Yoongi. He knows of the guy and he doesn’t want to know any more than he already does. He doesn’t even acknowledge the guy’s presence; all he does is squeeze you tighter and twirl you briefly in his arms.

“Fuck, me neither. Heaven must’ve healed my ankle quicker so I could come here and see you,” he flirts playfully, earning a well-deserved eye roll from you.

“And you know, play for Korea.”

“Eh. That too, I guess,” he shrugs, sitting at the seat beside you. He looks straight at you and only you — Jimin only pauses to snort to himself when he notices that Yoongi’s squirming in his seat, beyond annoyed and frustrated.

( ♡ )

On the fifth day of Yoongi staying over at your house, there’s a power outage.

The sound of everything shutting off together in sync makes you jolt, the collective groan you hear outside from the neighborhood comforting you in solidarity.

You can only make out a grunt from Namjoon and a gasp from your mom until you hear the trembling voice of Haneul, the sound of a cry that crawls up his throat putting everyone on their feet.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just a little dark, that’s all,” Yoongi pipes up instantly, scooping him up in his arms without having to fumble for where he is because he could practically locate his son in his sleep.

You didn’t want for it to be a power outage, but oddly enough, you feel sorry that it happened while you’re here. “It’s okay, Haneul,” you whisper as consolation, the dark of the night shielding you from how Yoongi’s eyes widen at your cooing for his son. “Mom, where did you put that generator I got you?”

“About that,” she sheepishly shrugs, turning on her phone to illuminate her shyness. “I donated it last year to the public school nearby.”

“It’s gonna get so hot,” Namjoon groans, the sound of him clumsily feeling around for the lights alerting Haneul briefly. He comforts him instantly, finally turning on the torch in his phone instead of relying on his instincts. “Don’t cry, Haneul, alright? Uncle Joonie’s gonna get the candles and the flashlights.”

“I’ll go try to find a guy,” you get up as soon as Namjoon hands you a flashlight, your contribution to help instantly being shut down.

“You can’t just try to find a guy, Y/N. That’s dangerous,” Yoongi scoffs, putting a hand on your forearm to pull you.

“I meant on my phone, Yoongi,” you grit. “I was gonna go outside to try and look for a signal.”

“That’s still dangerous,” he narrows his eyes at you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Give me a break,” you mutter, removing his hold from you. You’d save your pride and actually go outside if not for your mom interjecting that she knows an electrician from her contacts.

Namjoon comes back after his quest for battery-powered fans and flashlights, unaware of how Yoongi’s protective streak for you practically never disappeared; in fact, it came back twofold. “Whole neighborhood’s out. Must be a broken transformer or something.”

Your mom consoles Haneul in her arms.

Namjoon waits by the gate for the electrician.

You and Yoongi clean the fridge up before anything spoils.

In between getting food out and embracing Haneul every now and then who insisted on obediently sitting atop the counter so he’s closer to his dad, Yoongi holds your hand.

“That’s my hand that you’re holding,” you murmur, assuming that he had mistaken yours for Haneul’s as he’s always chuckled how yours always seemed to be small against his.

Yoongi only hums.

“I know.”

( ♡ )

You’re falling back into your old routine.

Maybe it’s how your mom has to shake you awake because otherwise, you’d sleep through the afternoon and would therefore be unable to sleep through the night. On the other hand, it could be Namjoon who either hounds you to hang out with him or tell you off for clinging to him too much.

Maybe, it’s just Yoongi. It’s him who’s tricking your brain into thinking that has nothing changed with the way he keeps peeling fruits for you and telling you to be safe even if you’re only buying ice cream from the convenience store.

It’s only been a week and a half of almost normalcy, save for the fact that there are certain things and connections you can neither reverse nor rekindle.

You’re convinced, almost fully convinced that history is repeating itself except for the bitter, ugly parts of it that you never want to pop in your head again.

Like the past, Namjoon blocks you for whatever reason in his head but this time he does it to you while you’re on the way to your room, on the quest to retrieve your charger for your phone that you barely even used for work purposes.

“It’s my room. Why can’t I go in my room?” you furrow your brows at him, your amusement turning into annoyance the more that Namjoon pushed you with actual strength instead of playfulness.

“Are you hungry? Let’s go out for dinner,” he changes the subject quickly, turning you towards the stairs.

You shouldn’t have questioned him further — you should’ve left it at that.

“I guess? I’ll just get my purse,” you concede, dodging his attempts to haul you downstairs.

“I’ll pay,” Namjoon insists and although it’s not out of the blue for him, his franticness is what keeps you on edge.

“I still need my-…” you counter, being interrupted when he holds you firmly as you attempt to walk towards your door. Namjoon grips you with a silent plead, one that you can’t even decipher. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

You finally break off his grip at once, walking into your room with a renowned determination.

It’s not only your routine that falls back into place, but it’s your whole worldview that does.

Love is terribly human. It’s a loose thread on your shirt that gets snagged on your doorknob. It’s a coat in your closet waiting to be worn for the supposed perfect time, and when you do, you realize that it no longer fits you.

Love is terribly human, and it is terribly Yoongi, Hyewon, and Haneul.

Love is terribly human and fragile, and it’s Yoongi, Hyewon, and their son sleeping on your bed.

#target audience im on my knees IM SO SO SORRY HOW R U FEELING!!!!#yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi series #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader

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aangell333 · 4 months

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hi<333 can i do like a fluff and smut request for aaron hotchner? a virgin//very innocent reader (18+, ofc) who’s maybe spencer’s sister or something, and she meets aaron and he knows she has a crush on him? super flirty banter and lots of touching until it drives the reader crazy, but she won’t admit that it makes her horny? eventually aaron, who’s always so blunt, asks if she’s horny at that moment, and they have a talk about her wants and needs? maybe daddy issues! reader? obv eventual full smut

idk i’m a sucker for daddy! aaron taken innocent readers virginity

thank u <333

how you managed to land a job at the bau, the behavioural analysis unit, at the f-b-fucking-i is beyond you. you’d answered an ad, filled out a form, did a quick interview and boom. you’d been appointed to a team.

granted, it was only as an assistant, most likely running the team’s coffees, but still. that’s running coffees for the fbi. how many people can say they do that for a living?

you walked in on your first day a bundle of nerves. you’d chosen your cutest-but-still-work-appropriate outfit and genuinely tried to walk in with your head held high. but the whispers and mutters that followed you through the bullpen left you more nervous than you’d started. willing yourself not to run, you sped up your pace slightly and trotted up the stairs that lead you to your new boss’s office.

you knocked on the door quickly, trying to soothe your racing heart.

“come in.” a deep voice called you, commanding and loud. you cracked the door open and stood awkwardly at the threshold. your eyes widened as you took in the scene.

the man that sat before you was nothing you’d ever seen before. it was as if he’d been crafted from the purest marble sent by the gods, chiselled away at by the most experienced and meticulous hands. he was incredible, deep, black eyes that matched the neat hair on his head, the quirk of his questioning eyebrow as you gawked at him.

“m-mr- detective hotchner. I’m y/n y/l/n, your new assistant?” you squeaked out, trying not to cringe at how shaky and scared you sounded. his face cleared, like ripples calming on a pond, leaving it smooth and glassy. like a pond who’s lips you wanted to capture on yours and-

“ah, of course! come on in and take a seat,” he rose from his desk and held his hand out with a soft smile.

your feet moved of their own accord, moving you closer to the beautiful man as you placed your hand in his. his other hand came up to clasp yours as they shook, yours disappearing beneath his. once he released your hand, you both sat down at the same time. the guest chair situated at his desk was slightly uncomfortable and you tried not to squirm in the plastic.

“would you like a tea? coffee?” he asked you, closing the manila folder on his desk and tucking it away.

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” you joked with an airy laugh and you tried to fight the swoon that threatened you at the sound of his own chuckle.

“don’t worry about that just yet. let’s get you acquainted before we start rushing you off your feet,” he said with a quick smile.

the two of you then started discussing your boundaries. what you were willing to do, what you’re a little more less experienced in doing. he assured you multiple times that you would be kept well away from any unsubs, no matter who requested what of you.

“I don’t want you in any danger, y/n. it is my responsibility to keep you safe.” he’d said in a serious tone, making himself clear to you.

a week later, you found yourself in an nypd precinct, listening to the detectives spitball theories. you were perched on a spinny desk stool offered by mr hotchner - having not yet got past addressing him as his formal name, no matter how many times he insisted you call him hotch - as he perched on the desk behind you. his hands gripped the edges of the desk, knuckles ever so gently brushing your back each time you squirmed in your seat.

“…targeting women much like this young lady here,” you flushed as the captain of the precinct gestured a hand towards you. he chuckled and winked at mr hotchner above you. “better keep your assistant safe, detective hotchner.”

he went on to give more details of the case to his team, but you couldn’t listen. your breath was caught in your chest and anxiety curled itself into your chest.

“hey, hey, it’s ok.” mr hotchner mumbled from above you, leaning down slightly towards your ear. you felt his knuckles gently skimming up and down your back. the action calmed you slightly and you leaned into his touch. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

the words made you swoon… and strangely… made your core clench? a frown briefly furrowed your brow and you wondered what caused such a reaction down there. you had rarely felt anything down there apart from pain during your period, and you hadn’t felt such a… tingly feeling since your teenage years.

the captain dismissed his team and he and the rest of the bau came over to you and mr hotchner. their appearance made him sit back up and move his hand back to gripping the edge of the desk.

“so, what’s the move, hotch?” derek asked, folding his arms and adjusting his stance.

mr hotchner hummed and frowned, bringing a hand up to his mouth. you gently rolled your chair to the side a little so that you weren’t in the way, not liking how the attention on him made you feel out of place. mr hotchner began reeling off his plan, giving jobs out to the members of his team. his tone was commanding and firm, leaving no room for argument as the team started their investigation for the case.

“..and, y/n, could you collect some menus from restaurants in the area for us all to look over so we can decide on a place for dinner?” he asked you, his voice significantly softer and kinder with a gentle hand on your shoulder. you nodded and gathered your things, heading over to the briefing room where the team had set up.

throughout the day, you couldn’t shake that ache and tingle in your core. you lay back on the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling above you with your hands folded on your stomach. your core was throbbing by now, begging for… you didn’t know what for. but it throbbed. and ached.

you’d never… done anything down there. never touched it or had it touched. back in high school, your friends would always tell you about their sex lives and who they were sleeping with. but you were always too… shy. too nervous to do any of that. so you stuck to yourself, no matter how people teased you for being a virgin. and you had always had that in the back of your mind whenever anyone had tried to initiate anything with you. how inexperienced you were. how you didn’t know what you were doing. so you’d stop it all entirely. and that’s how you ended up here, 26 and not once touched.

maybe mr hotchner wouldn’t mind… you found yourself thinking. you often found yourself thinking of what mr hotchner thought of you. if he liked you at all. you were pretty sure he did, he was very nice to you and gentler with you than he was with everyone else. he was almost like a father to the group…

he was more of a father than your own was. your father came and went from your home as he pleased, leaving you to care for your sick mother yourself. and when he was home… it wasn’t very pretty. you cringed at the amount of times you had to pick your own bedroom lock after he’d left again so that you could tend to your mother. you were scared of your father, knowing he could find you whenever he wanted to find you. the thought made you sick to your stomach.

you huffed and shifted onto your side, pushing the duvet off of you. your eyes drifted to the digital clock you’d brought with you, 12:46. not great considering you had to be up at 6am the next day. but sleep seemed like a foreign mystery to you at that time, so you decided a cold shower would help shake this unusual feeling from your core. so that’s what you did, kicking the duvet away and padding over to the en-suite.

you sat in the briefing room of the precinct slightly dazed the next day. you’d slept in by accident, and the sound of derek banging on your door was what woke you up. at 6:57am.

mr hotchner sat beside you as he watched the captain at the front of the room, describing his theories. your tired gaze was fixed on the pot of pens in the middle of the table as you zoned everything out. the strange tingly feeling was back in your core, poking at your entrance. it had started when you were making coffees for everyone and mr hotchner had leaned over you from behind to grab you the pot of sugar you couldn’t reach, his hand placed gently on your waist. the interaction had left you breathless and… throbbing. you squirmed in your seat and pressed your thighs together, praying it would go away.

you screwed your eyes tight shut and opened them again, your eyes flitting to the movement you saw in the corner of them. mr hotchner had his hands folded on the table, wringing them together. his knuckles and fingers flexed, the veins in the back of his hands popping. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his pale forearms and the large vein that struck out there. you blinked your eyes hard again, not understanding why this only increased the ache in your core and made your hole clench up tight.

your attention was drawn back to the room as everybody began rising from the table, heading to do their tasks for the day. you followed, grabbing leftover books and folders. a hand encircled your upper arm and you came face to face with jj giving you a soft smile. the door clicked behind derek, leaving you and jj alone in the room.

you liked jj. she was a lovely girl. the two of you had quickly become close and she was the first one - besides mr hotchner - to ask you to run an errand that wasn’t coffee. the two of you often gossiped with penelope garcia and sometimes elle greenaway too, the girls more of them than not sharing their ‘sex-capades’ as penelope likes to call it. jj was one of the first to really trust you.

“hey, sit down for me,” she said, sitting in the seat beside you and retracting her hand. you sat down too, following her actions mutely. “you ok? you’ve been a little… out of it. hotch asked me to talk to you.”

you cringed a little at that, not liking how mr hotchner had acknowledged your not-all-there-ness.

“I-I’m fine. I just… dunno. things have been a bit… different lately.” you said, folding your legs and pressing your hands together.

“different?”

“yeah. I just… you know you were telling me about that guy you met. the one who… slept over at your house.” jj chuckled a little at your euphemism but nodded.

“yes, I remember. why, has a guy slept over at your house recently?” excitement gleamed in her eye a little but you quickly shook your head.

“nono! no… but… you remember you said you felt… achey down there? the good achey.” you said and jj slowly nodded.

“well… i’ve just been… feeling that. and… I don’t know what to do about it.” you mumbled. “and… I don’t wanna… touch myself-“ your voice dropped to a whisper and you cleared your throat “-but… it needs to stop.”

jj chuckled a little.

“okaaay, well. do you know what caused it?”

you hesitated before nodding quickly but stayed mute.

“do you… wanna tell me?”

you shook your head quickly.

“right. well. whatever or whoever has turned you on-“ you cringed “-is most likely what will help to get rid of it. and yes, y/n, that means sex.” she chuckled fondly at the way you cringed again. she stood up, placed a hand on your shoulder and kissed your temple lightly. “you’ll be fine, y/n/n. I believe in you.”

and with that, she left the briefing room.

for the rest of the week, the tingle mostly stayed with you. on the jet back to quantico, you sat at the very back, thighs pressed firmly together and head fuzzy. your eyes stared straight ahead but were unseeing and your plush lips were parted but soundless.

your eyes flickered over to the movement in the corner of your eye, catching mr hotchner as he stepped out of the bathroom while shaking his hands to rid them of the lingering water droplets. his eyes met yours and he sent you a quick, fond wink with a smile. you swooned internally at his large presence, wanting nothing but for the older man to swoop you up and-

you stopped yourself and looked away before your thoughts could become any more explicit.

your eyes widened as you realised mr hotchner was walking towards you. he wore a kind smile as he took the seat beside you and placed a hand on your forearm. he gently unclasped your hands as you anxiously wrung them together and moved the one nearest to him to the armrest that separated his and your seats, his large fingers softly encircling your wrist.

“hey, did jj talk to you?” he asked you, voice politely low to keep your conversation private. you could only dumbly nod your head, eyes lost in his. “good, good. is everything ok?”

you actually swooned slightly this time at his protectiveness but managed to force your voice out of your throat.

“u-uh- yeah. I’m fine just… bit of a strange week,” you were glad mr hotchner took your words the way he did, assuming you meant ‘strange’ in regards to this being your first case.

“I agree,” he chuckled. “and an awful unsub to be your first, please understand that not everyone in the world is like that.”

you giggled in response.

“do you need me to grab you anything, sir?” you asked him, wondering why he was taking an interest in your well-being; no older male had ever done that for you. his brow furrowed.

“no, no, I was checking if you’re ok. the health of my team is important to me. you’re important to me, y/n.” his face was full of sincerity as he spoke and his eyes twinkled. your own eyes, on the other hand, threatened to fill with tears as a ball settled in your chest. your throat was suddenly raw and your head ached.

“oh…” was all you could force out.

“y/n, are you ok?” you nodded quickly and bolted to the bathroom, stumbling down the aisle of the jet.

in the toilet, you could feel your breath shortening rapidly. he cared about you. no man had ever said such words to you, and if they had, it was never to your face. but for some reason, you panties felt… sticky. and that familiar ache settled in your core. you tried to muffle your whine of desperation as the feeling returned, desperately trying to figure out just why you were feeling distraught and… turned on, as jj had called it.

once the jet landed, you grabbed your bag from the overhead locker and hurried inside of the bau building to dump everything at your desk. you sat in your desk chair and took a big sigh. mr hotchner had asked you to stay a while in case the team needed anything, so you did just that.

you checked the time on the big clock opposite your desk. 5:34pm. nice, not too late. mr hotchner said the team didn’t take long to debrief after a case, unless fbi time and civilian time worked differently.

which you assumed it did, because the team didn’t leave the briefing room until 6:15. you had pages and pages of notes that mr hotchner had asked you to take.

your distress had passed now, but that ache was refusing to leave. you sat back at your desk and huffed, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to shift the tension elsewhere.

from the desk near yours, derek shot you a quirked brow.

“you ok there, sweet girl?” he asked and you couldn’t help but flush at the nickname.

“I told you not to call me that.” was all you could mumble as you dumped your notepad in your drawer. derek grinned and pushed his chair over, leaning his beefy forearms on the desk.

“why? cuz it makes you all flustered?” he teased. you sat back in your chair and huffed.

“normally, it’s a compliment. but I’m not really in the mood for compliments right now.” you sighed, pushing a bouncy ball penelope had given you around your desk. you gently flicked it to him and he stopped it with his fingers before flicking it back. the two of you played the little game of rolling the ball between each other as you talked.

“why? cuz you all frustrated?” he smirked and you frowned, still not lifting your eyes to his.

“I’m not frustrated, I’m just… flat.” you said and he chuckled.

“no, no, I mean… sexually frustrated.” you blushed a deeper red at his words and sat up straight in your chair.

“I-I am not! shush!” you scooped the ball up in your fingers and bounced it against his forehead. he flinched slightly and chuckled with a grin.

“come on, the whole bau can see you got it bad for hotch. we’re behavioural analysts. and, if it helps, he’s got it bad for you too.” he winked at you and bounced the ball across the desk to you.

“no he doesn’t.” you grumbled as you swung your chair side-to-side slightly. derek chuckled again and rolled his eyes.

“whatever you say, sweet girl,” he grinned, winking again before he rolled his chair back to his desk. you frowned, easily seeing that he didn’t believe you.

eventually, people began drifting home. penelope was the first to leave, humming a tune and loudly calling goodbye as she went. then it was jj, and then derek. gideon left soon after, quickly followed by elle, leaving you and spencer in the bullpen.

mr hotchner was tucked away in his office working on some paperwork. he had come down a few times while the team were dispersing to refill his mug and grab a snack. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his tie loosened. his forearms were on display, that one vein running down making your head foggy.

at one point, as the temperature in the bullpen dropped as the night went on, he had noticed your shivering and draped his blazer around you. he had stood over you with a fond smile as he helped you slip your arms into the blazer. your cheeks had flushed red and you were unable to tear your eyes from his. once he’d walked off, spencer had thrown you a look before quickly looking back to his folder.

the action had once again settled an ache in your core, your entrance clenching tight as his scent invaded your senses. you fought every urge tugging at your nerves to bring the blazer up to your nose and inhale.

“night, y/n,” spencer said with a quick open-handed wave before he clutched his satchel to his stomach and left.

“see ya later, spencer,” you smiled at him as he walked away. the elevator dinged, indicating his descent, leaving you and mr hotchner alone in the building.

you glanced over your shoulder to his office. the blinds were drawn and soft light spilled from beneath the crack of his door. you sighed, fiddling with the hem of his blazer. you sighed and turned back to your computer screen, looking at the game of solitaire you were playing to distract yourself from your throbbing and wet core. you glanced at the clock on the bottom of your screen, 9:54pm. damn… a few minutes later, mr hotchner’s door opened and his footsteps descended the stairs.

“spencer went home?” he asked. you hummed in response, tearing your eyes away from the cards automatically flitting up to their correct spaces and giving him a smile. mr hotchner smiled as he saw your screen. “nice game.”

“thanks, beat my record.” you suddenly blushed. “sorry, I shouldn’t be playing games on company time.”

“that’s quite alright.” mr hotchner said with a smile, leaning on the edge of your desk and folding his arms. “you don’t have any tasks to do.”

you would’ve nodded, if you weren’t too distracted by the sight of his arms almost right in front of your face. you shifted in your seat as your core throbbed with heat and your mouth suddenly filled with saliva.

“y/n?…” the sound of mr hotchner’s deep voice calling you back to reality snapped you from your trance.

“I-I’m sorry- I- I was distracted-“ “y/n, are you horny right now?”

your mind blanked. you stared at his face with a surprised expression, your brows raised and lips parted. you couldn’t think, only embarrassment coiling in your chest.

“I-…” you trailed off, not finding the words to answer your boss’s such blunt question. your core ached again, however, and you could feel wetness gush into your panties. his fingertips gently grasped your jaw and he leaned down to you a little.

“I asked you a question, y/n,” he commanded with a slight smirk, clearly enjoying the power imbalance between the two of you. you swallowed and tried to fight the feeling of your eyes glazing over. “are. you. horny?”

“I am.” your voice came out in a whisper.

“what was that? I’m gonna need you to speak up, sweetheart.”

“I am. I-I’m horny, sir,” mr hotchner’s smirk grew at your words and his fingers caressed your jaw.

“good girl! using her big girl words.” you lapped up the praise tumbling from his lips and subconsciously shuffled closer. he chuckled at this. “so eager. you want your big boss to help you?”

“please…” your hand came up to hold his wrist as he squished your cheeks in one big hand and gently tilted your head up a little further. he hummed in faux sympathy before chuckling.

“come to my office. i’m going to sit down and you’re going to lock the door and close the blinds.” his hand moved to cup your cheek before he went to sit behind his desk.

you scrambled to fulfill his order, hurrying quickly after him. you stood at the door, fingers fumbling around the lock before darting to pull at the blinds. the warmth between your legs was now hot and poking at your untouched hole.

“sit.” mr hotchner ordered, gesturing to the seat before his desk. you did so, pressing yourself into the plush cushions. “now. let’s talk about what you’re comfortable with before we start. what kind of things are you into?”

your mind blanked.

how did you know what you were into if you’ve never done anything?…

HERE YOU GO SORRY ITS SO LATE!!!

PART TWO WILL BE LINKED HERE 🩷🩷

#x reader #smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds aaron hotchner

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citruslullabies · 14 days

Note

Can we please have some more dog moments from Dogday please?

Sure can do sweetheart! Dog moments from Dogday💚

Dogday is well.. extremely loyal

He waits for you every day, waiting patiently for you to come back to him. Fearful that one day you won't

But you always do, and he can't help but adore the loving hands that return to him and save him from himself and his story

The clock ticked effortlessly, each tick feeling like an hour but it had only been a minute. The large canine sighed as he waited by the door of the cabin you all called home, with Biscuits nuzzled into his side as he waited. Peanuts waited too, howling sometimes as he felt you took too long to come home and Cubby just kept her distance from everything until she knew you were home.

His floppy ears drooped even more, eyes weary as he thought of any possibility. Even after you had all left the factory, his heart still couldn't fathom the fact that they were all safe and he still worried for your safety when you were away. In a way, being in the outside world rather than the factory made him fear for you more. So when he heard the fumbling of keys and saw the door open, he immediately got up and greeted you with a wagging tail. "Angel! You're home. How was your day? Did anything happen at work?" He asked, following you around like a lost puppy dog when he was a grown man. He listened to you rant and ramble, listening and just glad you were home. He would lay by that door and rot if you hadn't.

Dogday doesn't like baths

He can tolerate them but... He isn't gonna like em

And he has no clue why, when he was a human he loved taking hot showers. Not it just felt like an inconvenience to him

Dogday grumbled as you forced his oversized body into the tub before turning on the faucet, ignoring his groans and stares of displeasure as his arms were folded over his golden chest. The warm water felt nice but something about having wet fur just irked him.

He felt your gentle hands rub the soap into his fur, and he didn't mind that.. he just didn't like when you'd get a plastic bowl and fill it up with water before dunking it on his head or wherever he was soapy. Grumbling every time you did and shaking as payback, getting you and everything surrounding you soaked. You turned your back for a moment, grabbing a brush to brush a knot you found in his fur.. and he took the chance. Slowly, he lifted himself up and tried to sneak out of the bathtub but was quickly caught red-handed.

"Dogday!" You scolded, walking back over and ignoring his big guilty puppy eyes as you got him back in the bathtub. He huffed and wanted to fight against you, but just gave up. You're lucky he loved you so much.

Time for the angst guys

Remember how I said he'd just lay and rot in front of the door if you didn't come back? Yeahhh..

He waited, and oh how he waited so very patiently. Waiting for hours with each tick that echoed through the house for you.

It had been days and he was scared, wanting to go out and look for you but you had told him to stay. And he was loyal to your demands... But he found himself too heavy to move and take care of himself or anyone else inside as long as you were gone. He continued to wait, ignoring a worried Poppy and Kissy. Ignoring the worried stares and even Cubby coming along and trying to get him to move despite her distaste for him.

He stayed and waited. And waited. And waited. Your scent started to leave the house, and that broke his heart. You smelled like nostalgia and home, like a fresh baked pie on thanksgiving but the home was now empty and abandoned. The pie now rotten and the good smell fading, all he could smell was the rain outside and the sadness he felt.

Nothing could make him move, and he continued to wait for you. And he would stay waiting for as long as it takes.

Thank you for requesting hon!

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kingkatsuki · 1 year

Text

Thinking about Bakugou being nervous to introduce you to his family for the first time. And it’s not because he’s embarrassed of you, or worried about what they might think. He already knows his mother will adore you, Mitsuki’s spent so many years chewing his ear off about finding the perfect partner and now he’s done it. And his father will just be happy to see him settled with someone that he loves, Masaru often worrying about his son as the number two hero.

The real reason why Bakugou has never introduced you to his parents is because he likes having you all to himself.

You’re like that safe haven that he returns home to after all the dangers he faces each day at work, the constant that grounds him and makes him happy. It’s selfish really, how he keeps you so close to his chest. And it doesn’t make sense when he starts to realise how upset it makes you that he hasn’t introduced you to his family yet, how he hasn’t let you in to that part of his life. He shared stories with you about his childhood, about his home life, but nothing quite compares to seeing the home and meeting the people who raised him.

“It’s okay, Katsuki.” You hum softly as you take his sweaty palm in your own so tenderly, stopping him from bouncing from toe to toe as you immediately ground him.

The door opening to find both his parents on the other side, his mother almost knocking him to the floor to swoop you into her arms.

“Ah, you must be the beautiful girl my sons been hiding from us for all this time,” Mitsuki captures you in a welcoming hug, while Masaru clamps a reassuring hand on Bakugou’s shoulder, “You know I was starting to think I’d never get grandchildren.”

And now Bakugou wonders what he was ever nervous about.

Watching from the kitchen as his mother lays a photo album on your lap, pointing out photographs of him as a young child, pictures of him dressed as Dynamight, first day of school, Christmases, and first swimming lessons.

“He used to be terrified of water, you know.” Mitsuki grins as she points at a particular picture, “He’s always hated the rain, even to this day.”

“He was so cute,” You coo, letting your fingers run over the smooth plastic covering the photos as you give each one your attention.

“He still would be if he got rid of that scowl,” Mitsuki continued, “And look, this one he refused to put his swimming trunks on so he just ran around the house naked—“

“You old hag,” Bakugou growled from the kitchen, although the words carried no real malice, not anymore. Almost dropping his mug of tea in embarrassment as you laughed beside her, “Not those damn photos.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like she hasn’t seen you naked, you brat.”

“She got the naked ones out again, huh?” Masaru chuckled beside him as he continued to plate dessert.

“Damn woman.” He mumbles beneath his breath, unable to resist your silent plea for him to join you as you raise your hand to beckon him over.

There’s just something special, intimate when Bakugou opens his life up to you like this. He could quite happily keep you to himself, but his family and friends deserve to have you in their lives too. The light that radiates from you deserves to be shared and cherished.

#just being the only one to get this intimate look into the real him? sigh #soft bakugou #bakugou x reader

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3rdgymbros · 1 year

Text

━ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥!

— pairing; nagi seishiro x reader

— summary; in which you accidentally propose to one nagi seishiro. set in the blue lock manager au.

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my content and wish to support me. reblogs are appreciated !!

❋ It’s Chigiri who comes to find you as you’re getting started on your list of chores for the day, and the look on his face is so grim that you’re gripped with an instant sense of fear.

❋ “There’s been an emergency,” is all he says, and you follow him to the Manshine stratum without question.

❋ Your pace is fast, since Chigiri’s legs are twice the length of yours, and the urgency of the unnamed situation carries the both of you forwards briskly.

❋ And, well, you’ve imagined all kinds of horrible scenarios, but nothing could have prepared you for this; seeing Nagi looking dejectedly at the palm of his hand, his usual emotionless face twisted up into a (rather adorable) pout.

❋ “What’s wrong?” You ask quickly, because it rather looks as though Reo’s going to pick up a soccer ball and brain Nagi with it.

❋ When Reo speaks up, it sounds as though he’s dangerously close to losing what little sanity he has left. “He broke his ring while playing.”

❋ “Ring?” You blink once, then twice, before your gaze lands on the pieces of broken plastic sitting sadly on the palm of Nagi’s outstretched hand and realisation dawns. “Oh, that ring!”

❋ You’d gotten it out of a gashapon in one of Shibuya’s many arcades, and had given the heart-shaped ring to Nagi without much thought. In fact, you had no idea that he would see it as something that precious, something to be kept safe at all costs.

❋ You grope about for words to try and comfort Nagi. “It was just a cheap thing, don’t worry about it.”

❋ Instantly, you realise that you’ve made a mistake when his shoulders droop, bringing to mind a flower wilting at dusk. If it’s even possible, it looks as though his expression grows even more clouded over.

❋ Your breath catches, and sadness washes over you. You don’t like seeing the clouds returning to Nagi’s eyes, along with knowing that you’re the one who put them there.

❋ “Look,” you say slowly, wanting to chase the sadness away from his face. “Since Blue Lock’s taken off, and I’m actually getting paid now, I’ll get you a better one, okay? One that won’t break so easily.”

❋ Nagi brightens almost instantly. “Can we get matching rings?”

❋ “Sure?” You say, though it comes out as more of a question, as utterly confused as you are by Nagi’s sudden change in attitude.

❋ “Oh my god,” someone says in the background, and you aren’t quite sure if it’s Chigiri or Reo who’s said it, only that they sound thoroughly exasperated.

❋ “I didn’t know you two were engaged!” And of course, Chris Prince would choose this exact moment to speak up, causing your embarrassment to run even wilder.

❋ But Nagi’s eyes are still trained upon you, and ah, he isn’t going to be forgetting about your promise to get him a ring any time soon, either.

#nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro reader insert #nagi seishiro headcanons #nagi seishiro imagines #nagi seishiro #blue lock reader insert #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk headcanons #bllk x reader #bllk reader insert

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ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

Note

Seeing as how you didn't want to put the pregnancy test surprise in my last request. Maybe you could in this request. Can you do it as a birthday surprise for Daryl? The reader has been keeping track of days, and noticed that Daryl's birthday was coming up. She found out that she was pregnant a month before his birthday. She made a trip to Hilltop to get an ultrasound done. When she presents the ultrasound and pregnancy test to him, he freaks out at first, worries on if he would be a good father or end up like his dad, worrying about if the reader would end up dead after giving birth like what happened with Lori. But, the reader confronts him and encourages him that he would never be like his father and that nothing will happen to them. Can end with them having a baby or not.

Warnings: none? Pregnancy / fear of not surviving birth. Allusions to Daryl’s past abuse.

With a soft smile, you hummed to yourself as you folded the print of your ultrasound and slipped it in the delicate little gift box, underneath the hand carved arrowhead you had worked tirelessly on for weeks. It was carved from obsidian, a process which left your fingers covered in abrasions from the splintered black glass. The final touch was a piece of plastic with two pink lines on it.

You carefully slid the lid onto the box and tied some twine around the whole thing to keep it secure. You tucked it into the side table drawer and smithed your shirt down.

Daryl would be back any minute now. It was his birthday, and aside from the small gift you made for him, you had known exactly what you were going to give him for the past month now. You tracked your cycles pretty well without access to birth control. The condoms had mostly expired by that time anyways, so it was really all up to date and how fast a man could pull out.

You were just grateful that out of anyone you chose to take that risk with, it was a man who would burn down entire cities to keep you safe — a man that would tear down the grandest walls to make you happy.

At first you were afraid, at first you couldn’t calm the racing thoughts and worst case scenarios that clouded your mind. Once the initial anxiety at simmered down some, though, you felt excited. When Daryl’s birthday grew near, you knew it would be the perfect surprise for the perfect man.

When the doorknob clicked, you took a breath and tried to present yourself as casual. “Hey, love.” You grinned as the archer stepped inside.

“Hey.” He greeted, kicking his boots off and dropping his crossbow on top of them.

“Hungry?” You asked. “Carol brought us some pasta.”

“Nah. Not yet.” He shrugged as he slunk down into the couch. He thee his head back and shut his eyes. He was exhausted and you could tell. You sat beside him and brushed some stringy hair away from his face.

“Happy birthday.” You told him sweetly. He peeked at you through one open eyelid.

“Hmm.” He hummed. “How’d ya know that?”

“Well it’s the same as last year, and the year before, and the year before..”

“Uh-huh.” He shut is eye again.

“I got you something.” You singsonged.

“New boots?” He guessed.

“Nope.” You shook your head, popping the ‘P’.

“Socks?”

“Um… No, but, you do need some new ones, by the way. I can only see so many holes before they’re no good.”

“Alright… Last guess. RPG?”

“No!” You slapped his arm. “You really gotta let the RPG thing go, man.” You chucked. He smirked a little, eyes still shut.

“Okay. Three wrong guesses. I guess I’ll just show you.” You sighed, pushing yourself up off the couch and approaching the side drawer. You couldn’t tell if it was excitement or anxiety or general anticipation that was festering in your stomach and chest. Whatever it was, you gulped it down regardless and pulled the little white box from the drawer.

You plopped back down beside him and held the box out. He peeled his eyes open and sighed, looking down and taking the box. He glanced at you once, hiding the little smile that creeped at the corners of his lips, and pulled the twine to unravel the knot.

Somehow you expected him to go for the arrowhead first, picturing him choosing the least exciting part first. However, he immediately noticed the pregnancy test and took it into his fingers, setting the box down. He stared at the pair of pink lines for what felt like ages, before he looked up at you.

“You?” He asked. You raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I wouldn’t be gifting you anyone else’s pee-stick.” You joked. He reached down and pulled the ultrasound print from the box.

“Where is it?” He asked.

“Can’t really see it, but… it has a heartbeat.” You said gently. He grabbed the arrowhead next, admiring it for a moment before tucking it into the inside pocket of his vest.

His eyes welled up.

“‘M a dad?” He whispered.

“Yeah.” You smiled.

He stood up quickly, test and photos in hand, an excited grin shamelessly shining from cheek to cheek.

“W— well that’s— it’s great!” He choked. You stood to embrace him but as soon as your feet flattened on the ground, his face fell. He began pacing. You watched him with worry.

“Daryl…?”

“I need some air.” He grunted. He stormed outside and plopped on the front steps, lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag as he stared down at the glossy piece of paper in his hands. There it was; a little life forming inside you, and he was responsible for it. He had to teach this person right from wrong, had to teach them survival and how to treat others. He was meant to lead by example, yet he had no idea how. He wondered if his father felt the same way once upon a time. He wondered if he was on his way to becoming the same man, the same dad.

He took another deep drag before you stepped outside and stood behind him. Oh god, he thought. What about you? What was to become of you? How hard would this be for you? Would you suffer the same fate as many women over the course of history? Would he lose you the way Rick lost Lori?

“Daryl.” You whispered.

“This ain’t right.” He mumbled.

“Don’t say that.”

“It ain’t!” He snapped. “I ain’t cut out to be a father! You could die! This ain’t a game!”

“I’m not gonna die.” You insisted, sitting and hugging him from behind. You rested your head against his back, piecing together the words you meant to say. “And nobody’s a better fit to father a child than you.”

“Nobody?” He scoffed. “Right, ‘cause I had a real good example.”

“You had a great example of what not to do, so the only thing left to learn is what to do. Which, we can both learn, in time. With experience. Like all parents.”

“If you even make it that far.” He gulped, blinking back tears.

“I will. And we’ll both come out on top. We always do.”

Join the taglist! || Masterlist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl twd #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

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babyjakes · 1 year

Text

dreamy undoing.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | april '23 ddlg-themed blurb night

summary | when you need it most, ransom knows exactly how to clear out your pretty little head.

pairing | daddy!ransom drysdale x little!reader

warnings | ddlg. soft sweet doting daddy!ransom. toys: warming cream, clit pump, vibe, butt plug. fingering. soo much praise, a little dumbification, lots of "shhhhh"s which are my favorite hehe <3. reader cries a little but only due to pleasure. reader is tied up. multiple orgasms, squirting.

word count | 1,517

requested by 🫧 anon | Life has been so stressy lately and I just know that Daddy Ari or Daddy Andy (or any Daddy you feel like writing!) would put together the perfect plan to wipe all the stressy thoughts from their little one’s brain. Daddy would make sure she feels all safe and little first, and then maybe tie her up to show her some new toys he got for her as he tells her that he’s going to use them to make all her stress go away. By the end, all she can do is come and squirt over and over and over again as daddy makes her make a big big mess.

an | ohh bestie i'm so glad you sent in a toy request, i have been craving a good toy fic and this was perfectly timed for blurb night!! hope it's alright with you that i chose ransom, i just love him and miss him and always think of him first when it comes to toys hehe <3 also?? this was supposed to be just a quick lil blurb but the adhd medication got me completely carried away..... hope you enjoy >:-)

"There you go baby— shhh," Ransom's voice is the softest, sweetest thing you've ever heard as his gentle fingers spread the yummy-scented cream all over your poor little button. Your legs twitch against the ropes holding you open and spread wide for your daddy. Though you're all tied up in quite a punishing position, this is not a disciplinary session. Instead, the restraints are simply there for your safety, for your comfort. Ransom knows this is exactly what you need after such a grueling week of school and work; all he wants to do is let his pretty baby's mind melt away to nothing as he rewards her endlessly for all the hard work she's been doing.

"Mmm... Daddy," you mumble. Ransom hums along with you as he rolls your tiny knot of nerves between his fingers, the effects of the special cream not taking long at all to be felt. "Th-thank you Daddy, feels so nice, feels—"

"Shhh— you're welcome, baby," the dark-haired man leans his head in to press a kiss against your forehead as he works your sensitive clit with his fingers. "You just let Daddy take care of you, hmm? Don't have to worry about a single thing, sunshine. Need to empty out that pretty little head of yours, s'not good for a tiny baby like you to be doin' so much thinkin'."

From the little pile of toys he has sitting next to you on the bed, he grabs your favorite pump next. It's a simple device with a round plastic cup for your clit, connected to a small bulb that allows your daddy to work the suction manually. As Ransom uses his fingers to spread you out gently, fitting the toy into its place, your toes curl in excitement. "Need to get your sweet little button all puffy and ready for Daddy to play with, right baby?" he smiles as he sucks your poor clit up with a squeeze, earning an eager nod from you as he wiggles the pump carefully, making sure the seal is air-tight.

"Bet that feels nice— huh, princess?" he croons knowingly as he grabs the next toy: your pretty pink plug, custom-made with genuine Swarovski crystals embedded in the base. "Don't worry, angel. Gonna get it nice and slick for you, make sure nothing hurts for my pretty little girl." Eyeing your dripping folds, he hums in approval. "Such a good girl, getting so messy for me already."

Your mind floats safely through your tiny headspace as Ransom preps the plug with plenty of lubricant, earning a quiet whimper from you as he begins rubbing the blunted tip up against your puckered hole. "Easy baby, shhh," he soothes you once more, bringing one hand up to tap against the hard plastic encasing your clit as the other begins working the plug into you. He releases the pump before squeezing it again and again at a quick, teasing pace, your poor puffy button getting sucked up over and over by the tool.

Your breaths deepen, heart thumping faster and faster as your clit pulsates in pleasure, the sensation of the plug stretching you out in your most sensitive of places bringing you closer and closer to the edge in little time at all. Attentive as always, Ransom senses your growing arousal with ease. "Good girl, that's my sweet little y/n. That feel nice, baby? You like it when Daddy plays with your clit and plugs up your pretty little bottom? Poor little girl— so tight, aren't you?" he mocks pity, the heat in your tummy growing as he slides the plug in and out of your burning hole, letting it stretch you out as far as it can without quite giving you the satisfaction of inserting it fully to sit nicely in its intended place.

"P-please Daddy," you pout, bottom lip trembling as he toys with your ass, letting out a gasp as he sucks your needy button up fully again before plunging two thick fingers into your neglected cunt. "O-oh Daddy... thank you Daddy, I— please, please Daddy..." Ransom grins at the sound of your increasing desperation. The first orgasm is always his favorite; he loves dragging it out, watching as it creeps up slowly, then before either of you know it, all at once.

"There you go, babygirl. Just needed this pretty little pussy filled up, huh?" he sings, the pads of his fingers curling up against your tender ceiling as you grit your teeth, tears building in your eyes as you pass the point of no return.

"Please Daddy, I-I'm gonna— please," you heave.

"Go ahead, baby," Ransom murmurs, giving you a knowing nod as he works his hands faster, bringing you right to orgasm at his simple command, "cum for me. Theere," he hums, a satisfied look washing over his face as he witnesses you coming completely undone before him.

Clenching down against the plug and your daddy's fingers, you completely let go, gushing steadily against his ministrations. Your climax is long, steady, and intense, pathetic whimpers sputtering out of you once you finally begin to drift back down to earth. Ransom carries you through it with care, working your most sensitive places as long as he can to give you as pleasurable of an orgasm as possible. Only when you're finally winding down does he slow, bringing his drenched fingers up to his lips to taste your sweet juices.

"So good for me, angel," his voice is low, tender as he finally pushes the plug in fully, watching as it nestles itself perfectly into place against your trembling rosebud. Free hand coming up to rub your tummy gently, he coos as it still spasms lightly from your euphoric high. "So proud of you, sweetheart. Did so well for Daddy, that feel good?"

"Mhmm," you hum, gazing at him through half-closed lids as you soak in the dreamy waves of pleasure still coursing through your veins. "So good, thank you Daddy," you mewl sweetly.

"You're so welcome, little one. Now let's see here," he muses, bringing his attention back up to your clit as it sits swollen in its clear cage. "Oh my," he breathes as he lets it out of the pump with a pop, the magic workings of the device and the cream visible as the little bundle of nerves now sits completely exposed and hardened, just begging to be loved on. "So puffy, baby. Look at you," he enthuses, placing a hand behind your head to bring it forward, forcing you to look at your poor, abused sex.

"S-so puffy," you agree, eyes widening as he reaches for the bottle of lube, gently dripping some down against the knot of flesh. The sensation of the cool liquid hitting your most sensitive spot brings tears to your eyes once more.

"Think I've bullied your poor little button enough, huh?" he frowns as he grabs a small, cordless wand from beside you— another favorite. "Think it deserves some relief. What do you say, princess?"

"Y-yes Daddy, please Daddy," you drool as you rest your head back against the pillows once more, the sound of the wand switching on already overwhelming you with anticipation.

Pressing three fingers into your messy heat this time, Ransom gives no warning before bringing the head of the wand down to begin working over your clit. You jolt at the intensity, earning a light chuckle from the dark-haired man as he begins pumping his digits in and out of you once more, singing, "There, that's what you needed, isn't it? Just needed Daddy to tie you down and let you cum? How long d'you think you'll last this time, sweetheart?" he wonders aloud.

But you're already teetering towards the edge again, the wand being swirled over your throbbing clit in slick, steady circles enough to make your mind go completely numb. And that's all Ransom wants; that's all he's wanted from the beginning: to reduce you down to nothing but whimpers and moans, a drippy, darling mess at the mercy of his skilled hands. "Please... please..." Your vocabulary is shrinking by the second as his fingers speed up against your burning walls.

"You don't have to beg, baby. You can cum, can cum as many times as you need. Daddy's gonna take care of you, sunshine," he promises as you reach your second high, tears and spit dribbling down your chin as you squirt out against your daddy's hands once more. He praises you softly and sweetly, letting you ride out your orgasm for as long as you can. Your juices crackle against the hum of the vibrator as you squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding in your throat as you wait seconds, minutes, what feels like forever for the ripples of pleasure to finally subside.

"Hmmph... Daddy..." your own voice sounds miles away from you as you stay in your daze, head entirely somewhere else as you feel the wand being run up and down your soaked slit.

"Daddy's here, angel. Doin' so good for me— let's see if you can give me another one, hm?"

quietly tagging @onsunnyside in dis bc. dis is puff puff behavior fr.

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Jungkook: 𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓭𝔂 (Intro)

Jewels, Money, Shiny things- stuff he's been collecting before he stumbled upon you. Now the only thing he's greedy for is you.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Cat Hybrid!Reader, Major fluff!, suggestive themes & heavy flirting, Primal themes (biting, grooming aka he licks her neck lol, scenting, manhandling), size difference because come on this is my content and you know my kinks by now don't act surprised

Additional Content: none yet

Masterlist: to be added

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Jungkook is humming to himself in a good mood as he cuts open a cardboard box delivered, knife cutting through the tape holding everything safely together.

Almost instantly you're in the room with him as well, ducking under one of his arms to catch a glimpse of what he's gotten delivered. "Hey- I've got a knife here, careful." He chuckles, gently pushing you a bit so you sit a bit further away as he pulls out the plastic wrapped item. "Oh, nice! I was worried it might be a little too small.." He mumbles more so to himself as he opens the vacuum packed item, fluffing it up as you watch with wide open eyes.

"You bought it!" You tell him, amazed, and he grins, opening another sealed back that contains a fitting pillow for the human-sized pet bed he'd bought for you. It was a little on the more expensive side for him- but to see your eyes sparkle like that, and watch you grab and drag is towards a sunny spot near his windows is enough of a reward for it.

It's something that you never really experienced prior to living with Jungkook. He's offering you more than just a home, or basic care- he offers love, a feeling of belonging, comfort and a sense of security.

His kind is, on earth, often times compared to dragons for their heavy and alligator-like tails and uniquely diamond-shaped pupils, but mostly for their behavior of collecting things. Food, money, candy- some even collect blankets or pillows or plants, there's nothing one won't attempt to hoard more of if it brings them joy or happiness. Jungkook himself is pretty tame for a Xiro- he only really hoards food and snacks at home, but has started to become rather fond of spoiling you instead of himself. He's got a whole collection of hybrid stuff- medications, supplements, snacks, collars and toys- it's all there, even emergency medical stuff, just in case, because you never know.

He's not only your owner after all, but your mate- lifelong companion, your protector and lover, and he won't ever give you a reason to complain about that fact.

He folds the cardboard box together to throw away later, before he walks over to you, playfully manhandling you around to lay in the, for him way too small, bed with you on top of him. "I might have to put it away again if you lay in it more than you want to be with me.." He chuckles, though you know there's a hint of truth in his joke.

Jungkook is awfully possessive when it comes to you and your attention.

"No, I'll always like you most." You purr quietly, and he offers a happy sounding growl before he closes his eyes, basking in the sun shining onto his body with you. "Nap time?" You ask, and he chuckles, nodding.

"Nap time."

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Your favorite way of cuddling has become to sleep almost on top of Jungkook.

He's warm, like the sun, and strong enough not to be fazed at all by your added weight on top of his chest either. It also reassures you during sleep that he's still there, and that you're not alone.

Jungkook himself loves it too.

He knows it's sometimes tough to adapt your body to his nocturnal sleep schedule- but very amusingly to him, you're totally capable of sleeping anywhere he takes you as long as he's in reach. It's made it very easy for him to take you to work for example- his job being what brought him to you in the first place, though tonight he's simply offering company to his friends at the small restaurant one of them owns.

It's then that a couple of police officers walk in, clearly not there for simple food.

"Sir- can I check your papers for her please?" A more elderly guy in official uniform asks Jungkook, looking at you who's currently sleeping rolled up in a blanket-burrito on one of the nearby chairs close to Jungkook. It's common for law enforcement to check ID's of hybrids these days, since a lot of them are illegally trafficked on to his planet, cases rising rapidly for reasons no one's entirely sure of yet. It's a little sad to him how earth and humans seem to try and 'get rid' of your kind so shamelessly- but he's no politician, nor does he want to really involve himself into this mess at all.

He's got you, and that's all that matters.

"Sure." He says, used to the procedure as he moves to grab his bag to fetch his wallet. "I only got her identification card with me though, I hope that's alright." He mumbles, pulling out the card in question before he gets out his own, already aware that that's gonna be asked next.

"That should be fine. Just gotta match up the ID tattoo on her to make sure if you don't mind." The officer says, and Jungkook nods.

"Yeah sure." He offers, moving towards you to carefully run a hand over your shoulder first as to not startle you on accident. "It's right here." Jungkook shows the inside of your ear, the officer matching it up by sight with what's written on your ID card, before he nods and gives him back his items.

"Thanks. It's just a routine thing- cases have been popping up left and right these days.." The man sighs, writing something down in a booklet. "Her medical records all up to date?" He questions, and Jimin nods.

"She's scheduled for tomorrow for her yearly vaccinations. They're expiring in two months I think, but we wanna travel soon so I wanted to get it done sooner rather than later." Jungkook chats, and the officer nods.

"Very good. If only everyone was like this.." the man sighs, watching as his coworker seems to argue a bit with a young man and his own hybrid next to him. "I won't bother you any further. Have a nice night." He offers, before leaving to aid his colleague in the argument he's involved in.

You move around a little, wiggling closer to his chair as he sits down again, both Jin and Taehyung emerging from the kitchen, sitting down. "Man, humans are a struggle.." Seokjin sighs, leaning his head on his hand. "Why can't they be nocturnal? I've been working all day, no breaks!" He whines, and you wiggle out your arm to reach out and pat the older man's head. He looks at you with squinted eyes at that, an action that years prior would've scared you-

But Xiro people are gentle giants, you've come to learn.

"Hah, if Jungkook wasn't written on all the documents I'd steal you right away." He complains, and Taehyung laughs at Jungkooks playfully angry face, his tail swiping from left to right.

"You keep your grabbing claws to yourself old hag." He insults the oldest at the table, who's mouth gapes open at the audacity of the youngest.

"How could you!" He scolds. "Younglings these days, wear a sleeve full of ink and think they're free to do whatever!" He shakes his head, making you giggle.

You love the carefree banter Jungkook has with his friends.

You love hanging out with them, their friendship something not commonly seen on earth anymore since the collapse. People aren't really too warm anymore on earth, rather concerned with finding a new villain to blame for everything wrong every day it seems like. So in a way, you're glad Jungkook chose to take you with him back when he volunteered to help give Hybrids back on earth their identification tattooed. It was a form of social work, a publicity thing created to familiarize humans with the Xiro people and their planet. It worked.. mildly successful.

Though it was a win in the lottery for you.

"I should probably head home, she needs to sleep in a proper bed." Jungkook says after a moment, and Seokjin nods.

"Hah, I always forget they sleep during the night. You could just leave her here though-" He offers, though he receives a glare from the younger alien.

"Absolutely not. Get your own, old man." He scoffs playfully, getting up to put on your coat for you. It's pretty windy on his planet tonight, so he's learned to bundle you up to prevent you from getting cold.

"Pah, I just might! Stupid kid." He growls, shaking his head. "Here, take those though. Poor thing is probably living off of nothing but pre-made meals." He gives you the bag full of boxes filled with what he knows are your favorite foods.

"I cook for her, thank you." Jungkook rolls his eyes, before he properly says his goodbyes, your hand in his as you walk home in the lowering suns of his planet.

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You remember how you'd met him.

He was intimidating to say the least- ink underneath his skin swirling around slightly, eyes sharp and piercings glimmering in the lights around him. His tall statue and rather muscular physique definitely didn't help his case either- so it shouldn't have been surprising to him how you'd glare at him as if ready to strike if he'd attempt to harm you.

"You're cute, really, but you gotta show me that pretty ear of yours." He'd chuckled softly, head tilted innocently and his smile almost docile.

A careworker wants to scold you, reaches out- but the man who's name tag read 'JUNGKOOK', holds out his hand in a silent demand to let him handle it himself.

"What can I do to make you more comfortable?" He'd asked, and your ears had slowly relaxed, surprise having caught you off guard. No one's ever asked you a question like that prior to him- you didn't know what to answer to that. "Hm?" He'd pressed softly, and you'd shrugged, looking around nervously. "Thats a pretty tail you have there. My kind has them too." He'd smiled, a grin more akin to a rabbit than the dragons his kind gets compared to, heavy alligator-like tail swaying behind him as if to show it off.

"...is it heavy?" You'd asked bluntly, and He'd laughed, shaking his head.

"Not really no. I guess because I grew up with it, I never really thought about that." He'd told you, casually readying his tattooing equipment while talking to you. "But as a child, my mothers would tell me how I'd always cause trouble with it. I'd empty any table low enough for it to reach!" He'd giggled, and you'd smiled at the thought of the younger version of him knocking down items from tables and shelves, too clumsy yet to quite think about it all.

"I burned mine on a candle once." You'd meekly told him, petting your own tail in search for comfort as you remembered the memory. He must have bright and colorful memories of his childhood- while you barely have anything worth keeping in mind, you'd thought to yourself.

"Well, you better make sure you don't get it hurt again, little thing!" He'd simply offered, before his surprisingly gentle hands had rubbed some numbing cream on the inside of your ear. "Or... maybe I could?" He'd asked, and at that, your ears had fully turned towards him, and made him smile. "Ah, adorable, really!"

"You'd.. take me in?" You'd asked, and He'd shrugged.

"I wasn't planning on bringing an earth-hybrid home-" He'd smiled, before the tattoo gun had buzzed to life. "But looking at you, I feel like I've found what I didn't even search for."

And today, the tattoo on your ear isn't just a Number.

It's also a memory, forever cherished by the both of you.

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There's a low rumbling sound in his chest as he holds you close to himself, nosing along the crook of your neck.

It sounds awfully like those CGI-Dinosaurs in movies back on earth- and you know he's just as dangerous as the directors of these sci-fi movies intended their creatures to be. His heavy, snake-like tail has you wrapped securely to himself on his lap, hands free to roam over your body as if he needs to re-paint your image back into his mind using only his fingers and palms. His tongue traces over your skin, marking you, seemingly on a mission to find the perfect spot, before his teeth bite the skin, leaving his mark on yoir body amongst so many others, chuckling when you begin to squirm a little at his actions, your soft cat tail a stark contrast to his own.

You're like the prey in the python's grip- but this predator has chosen to feast on you in different ways.

"Hm.. are you happy, little thing?" He asks you, and you nod, leaning into him, your soft cat ears brushing against his cheek as you purr- a sound he's learned earth's cats make when they feel good, making him smile. "I'm glad." He offers, laying down with you as his tail curls around the both of your bodies, warm orange glow from outside his home bleeding in and bathing you both in shades of gold. It doesn't matter though how warm the suns on his planet shines-

Your favorite sunspot will always be him.

"I love you." He says, chuckles right after it. "Thays how you say it on earth, right?" He wonders, and you turn a bit, looking at him.

"Depends." You say, chin on his chest while his hand runs over your head, coming to rest on your lower back where your tail is just about to begin. "What do you wanna say?" You ask, and he hums as he thinks.

"I asked Seokjin if he knew an earth-expression for deep emotional care and longing. A word or sentence to make sure your mate knows how much you want to stay close to them, both physically and any other way." He says, and you blush, turning your head to the side on his chest.

"Hm, guess that's love, yeah." You nod. "How do you say it here?" You wonder, and he smiles, hand running up and down your back.

"I commit my life to you." He says softly, hand still before you look up at him. "Thats what we say here- and that's what I say to you." He mumbles, and you can't help but stare for a good moment.

Jungkook and you have been intimate before. You've told each other that you deeply care, that you're mates, that you're in a relationship. But it's the first time you ever talk about love, about something so meaningful as.. well, this. And hearing it from him in such honesty makes your heart race like never before.

"Dont just stare, little thing. Kiss me!" He playfully growls, pulling you up and closer to press his lips against yours, laughing along with you as you roll around in the sheets, getting lost in love and happiness together.

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Humans would look at you both in absolute confusion if they saw you like this, you think to yourself.

Freshly showered and dressed in comfortable clothes, you're halfway laying on the fluffy carpet on the floor, and also somewhat in Jungkook's lap. Well- your butt is in his lap, legs and upper body not- but he's positioned you like this himself, and you've got snacks and TV, so you don't complain.

He's humming the tune of the commercial playing to himself as he brushes out your tail with gentle strokes of the specially designed hybrid brush- your eyes growing heavy with tiredness after the things you've been up to not even an hour prior. Your neck and thighs still sting a little faintly from his lovebites he leaves every time you both make love. You don't mind them though, not one bit.

"Will you be okay later?" He asks, referring to when he'll put you to bed, while he'll go to work later. Jungkook would love to have you sleep close to him at all times- but sometimes, like today, he just forgets that you're not nocturnal like he is, and while you've adjusted somewhat to that, he should've saved up his physical acts of loving you for after he's done working, considering how much be tends to tire you out with that. He teases you a lot about that, but its also another endearing thing to him.

You never complain about anything. You adapt freely to his way of living- so he's doing the best he can to make it all as easy for you as he can.

You nod at his question, yawning as if reminded of your exhaustion, and he chuckles, hand smacking your butt playfully, causing you to whine in complaint- the skin still a little tender from earlier. "Sorry." He says- but you know he's not.

You stretch and turn on his lap, and he smiles watching you, hand running over your exposed stomach, before he leans in to kiss one of his bites at your neck. "Hm I don't wanna leave you here.." he complains a little, moving around to pull you properly on his thighs, though you just hug him, head leaning against his shoulder. "And you're freshly marked up too. Won't have to worry one bit about someone trying to steal you away from me " He purrs, and you just shrug, clinging onto him. "We could take the round bed I bought with us to my studio. Hm? You could always sleep there then, when I'm working." He offers, and you nod after a moment.

He laughs, before he gets up, puts you on the sofa for a moment to get everything ready for his plan. It's a great idea- that way, you'll be comfortable just like at home, and he'll have you close and won't have to worry about you.

When he later comes to work with both you and the round pet bed in a bag, his coworker just shakes his head with a slight smile, already used to the younger alien's actions from years of experience. You easily fall asleep under blankets he places over you after setting up the bed in the corner you choose for yourself, and he already knows he feels a lot better like this, knowing he'll be able to look after you more properly this way.

When his first client comes in, Jungkook explains that you're his- that you're his mate, not just a companion or pet as humans call it, and the young man is understanding.

"I've been visiting the carecenter in the capital." The man named Jimin says, as Jungkook puts down the tracing paper on his back. "I'm worried though- online research made it seem as if Algol isn't a good environment for them.." he mumbles, and Jungkook shrugs.

"She's perfectly healthy, and has been living here for more than two full cycles. Yeah, their circadian rhythm can sometimes make things a bit tricky, but I've gotten used to handling it whenever necessary." He explains, making sure to do his work properly. "You'll have to really study what they can and can't eat though. A lot of vegetables we eat here are poisonous to them, and some of them can't digest dairy well." He offers.

Jimin sighs. "That sounds intimidating." He huffs almost disappointed, watching you roll over in your sleep, tail limp as you're out like a light. "But they seem like such good company."

"They are." Jungkook agrees. "She's probably the best fitting mate I could've ever found." The artist shrugs, beginning to tattoo.

"I mean, they did mention in research that earth-hybrids and Xiro people are surprisingly very compatible, even in genetics." He informs the younger alien. "Have you heard of the couple that recently became parents? And the child is perfectly healthy too."

"Hmhm, I've heard." He nods. "Maybe it'll help our declining birth rates, at least a little."

"Have you thought about having one with her?" Jimin asks, and Jungkook nods.

"One day, probably. We both want that. But not right now. There's no rush." He says as he follows the lines he'd prepared on the skin of the older man.

"Understandable." Jimin nods.

And Jungkook doesn't stop softly smiling as he works, and thinks about your future together.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #hybrid reader #hybrid imagine #hybrid au #alien jungkook #alien!jungkook

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