#Panic Hoarders | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminrings · 3 months ago

Text

if-then

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively.

alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset.

[ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]

notes: after being asked for literal years to write an alien au, it's finally here!!!! mwah thank u for patiently waiting :D

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s fond of appraising things.

He’s fond of assigning values to things that may or may not hold some bit of importance to his life, whether its value proves itself in the present or the future. Jungkook likes setting his literal ducks in a row, and the little inanimate yellow tokens that his brother brought back from Earth serve as a discreet (not really, though) reminder that he may have some hoarder tendencies.

Jungkook’s not really a hoarder-hoarder; it just happens that he likes keeping things, sometimes for no apparent reason at all.

He likes swiping the flashlights that the night guards use to stash in his own personal “emergency” (not that there’s ever been one, nor will there ever be) cabinet, just because he wants to be prepared for a natural catastrophe that won’t probably ever happen in his area. He’s already seen a couple of films that humans have made, and if ever comes a time that Planet Twell has a dinosaurian monster battle it out with a gigantic prehistoric ape, Jungkook’s proud to say that he has a couple flashlights for him and his brothers to use.

In addition, Jungkook likes picking flowers just before they go out of season. His eldest brother’s already cussed him out for it, but he’ll still do what he does best (?), if best means “preserving” the flowers by drowning them in water every ten minutes so they wouldn’t wilt and he’d still get to see them during off-peak days.

Prince Jungkook likes appraising things in his own definition and pace. They’re never categorized in his head for what they actually do, but for what kind of unexplainable fulfillment fills his chest whenever he thinks about the item.

The youngest prince of Twell didn’t like it when there was a commotion at the lily field and the citizens ran out to see what it was about, instead of eating their slices of cake with the fondant that he made out of scratch. Jungkook didn’t like the fondant either because there must be something insanely wrong with itself (or it’s just that he made it just as bad), but he didn’t like being alone either when finding out about the taste.

He didn’t like seeing the tiger lilies he planted himself squished underneath an unknown figure, who may or may not have fallen from the sky, judging by the way you’re wincing alone with no aircraft, no parachute, nor any other person with you.

Jungkook didn’t like seeing you, an alien, who’s just as confused with the entire ordeal. You can’t remember anything about how or why you’ve gotten here — all you know is your name and who you are, and unexpectedly so, the first prince who’s gotten to where you are isn’t so thrilled about the fact.

He’s fond of appraising things, and although he’s not extremely excited about you just as he had been when Yoongi brought home trinkets from him during his trip to Earth (including the very seeds for the tiger lilies you’ve destroyed), he’ll make do.

Jungkook will try and make you mean something, if not everything, to him.

Prince Jungkook has come to learn that you’re part human.

You’re neither fully his kind nor his type (or atleast that’s what he thinks so) and he doesn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know what to feel about only the slight panic that filled you knowing that it’s still unexplained of how or why you’re in Twell; even more, he doesn’t know what to feel that you’re neither scared nor intimidated by him.

You don’t know what to feel either when Jungkook, who’s only mildly shocked about your existence in general, delivers his first question to you and it’s not of the sort that you expected. He looks soft and round, unlike the hearsay about his kind that only amounts to half of you. He doesn’t look aloof and unaccepting at all — if anything, he looks at you like you’re the one who’s cruel instead of him.

Jungkook almost completely does not care about who you are or where you’re from, but what he cares about is if you have any trinkets with you that he could possibly have. Out of anything he could possibly solicit from you, he only asks for so little, no matter how odd.

“T-trinkets?” you squeak, brows raising in surprise. “I’m sorry, Prince Jungkook — y-you’re asking if I have trinkets so you could have them?”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pursed and cheeks puffed out as he confirms your confusion. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have a trinket.”

“Oh,” you blink once, twice, a small smile playing on your lips to replace the fact that you’ve been confused for the entire half hour since you came back to consciousness. “Happy birthday, prince.”

“I see.”

“It’s thank you,” you mutter automatically, coughing lightly when he only knits his brows at you. He’s cute this way — innocent, even. “I-I mean you’re supposed to say thank you when someone greets you, or when someone does something nice for you in general.”

“Okay. My brother forgot to teach me that,” Jungkook hums in recognition, eyes briefly glowing with a bluish hue before he regains his composure. “Thank you.”

You wonder if staring is also frowned upon in this planet.

You wonder if it would get you a mean glare or a sarcastic snicker if you were to stare at Prince Jungkook a little longer without any thoughts floating in your brain, except for the fact that you are completely unaware that you’re already zoning out on him.

You wonder if it would be wrong for your eyes to take in every single detail of him from his short hair that softly falls onto his forehead, to his supposed birthday attire that only consists of a white button-up, to his gleaming royal jewelry that rightfully so, only looks like it would belong to him and him only.

“Trinket?” he reminds you, head tilting and eyes widening as he cranes his neck to look at you beyond the table that separates the both of you.

“Oh! U-uhm,” you scour your pockets immediately just to present something, and bluntly put, you haven’t even checked your well-being, much less the possessions you have on yourself. You feel more than relieved to know that it isn’t empty, because oddly enough, you’d feel a little upset— a little down if you were to disappoint a prince you just met not more than an hour ago. “I have this handkerchief, I guess.”

“Perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, leaning to grab the baby blue square from you that’s embroidered with your initials that are unfamiliar to him. He clutches it into his hand tightly with a smile on his face, the happiness later dwindling when he realizes he has no clue of what he’s holding. “What is it supposed to do?”

You blank at that, meekly scratching your temple. “Nothing, I think. It’s just there for most people, but I’ve never had to use it.”

“You’ve never had to use it, but you still take it with you?” he attempts to clarify, a slight frown embedded into his lips as he looks down on your averagely prized possession.

“I don’t mean never as in never ever, and I’ve used it a couple of times like everyone else does, but it’s just-…” you trail off, shrugging helplessly because you can’t describe the concept of nothing to him easily. “It’s just there.”

You’re more than fatigued and a lot more confused (albeit less worried) about the semantics of your presence here in Twell, specifically in Prince Jungkook’s office, but the latter doesn’t seem to take mind as he takes you with an open mind.

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll have it,” he announces, shifting his eyes between you and your (his now) handkerchief that he’s slowly and hesitantly unraveling, only to put back into its original square form after every move.

“You will?” you almost snort, a tiny bit amused that a prince is clenching your handkerchief like its the most interesting thing in the galaxy.

“Yes,” he hums distractedly, looking up at you as he lightly scratches the embroidered teddy bear at the corner of the fold. “I will have you too.”

“You will?! You’re not going to dispose me or anything?” you straighten immediately, eyes more frantic and disbelieving to hear that you’re being taken care of (or something of the sort) than just awhile ago when you were unsure of your fate. “Why?”

“Don’t know,” Jungkook shrugs just as easily as you do. “I just want to.”

( ♡ )

Prince Jungkook isn’t so bad, and neither is Twell.

The planet isn’t so bad in the sense that although you don’t feel the most welcome you have ever been in your entire life, there’s a recognition that seeps into your bones that some of them, if not most, would set out a plate for you if ever Jungkook came into their homes. He’s the social butterfly of his family; the baby lamb that’s set out into the field to check up on everyone else and act as a mannequin of sorts that’s a little less superficial, and a little more warm.

Jungkook isn’t so bad either in the sense that although it’s the bare minimum to do so, he doesn’t throw his kindness back to your face even in the most critical situations, with now being the sole exception.

With the exception of now, Prince Jungkook has not ever acted rashly towards you. He wasn’t annoyed with you when you kept asking him questions of what it would mean to act as his security detail, and he wasn’t irked either when your questions about your heritage (and his by extension) toed personal lines that no one else would dare cross.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never acted rude towards you. He wasn’t as guarded with your existence like his older brothers were; as a matter of fact, he even came to your defense when some of them theorized that you were only here in their planet to act as a precursor for their downfall.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never been this cruel; with the ultimatum of his pride over your heart, he’s never made you feel this different and alienated from him — with, of course, the exception of now.

Heartbreak is a human emotion.

The weakness of the concept is disturbingly human and vulnerable. There’s no escape from it, even if the said percentage of human in your blood is barely half and could light a candle to your more evolved, far more powerful Twellian genes. It’s a sickening emotion to feel, much more have it get you carried away from what you have to do at hand.

The grip that said heartbreakhas on you is unimaginable, far more different than what your people, not humans, tell you how it’d feel like. There had already been an uproar when it was announced that you were appointed as Prince Jungkook’s guard, the news of an impure Twellian bearing the coveted position receiving every reaction possible — from fear, to distaste, and even to genuine amazement.

All of the kingdom’s advisers had theorized that despite you of being impure heritage, youwere superior in terms of physical capabilities. With everything else you’ve been theorized to lack at, you bite at the possibility that the ache in your chest is attributed to your stunted emotions.

You feel painfully human. You feel what heartbreak is, and compared to what others have made it out to be, it’s an emotion that you can’t put into words.

“You can’t, Jungkook,” you firmly say once more with your ears ringing, not because the volume of the club makes you want to get down on your knees, but because you’ve perhaps heard something far worse; far more grating, and far more overwhelming than what your heart could even bear. "All of your brothers specifically insisted for me to bring you back before midnight."

They say that your hearing’s supposed to be better. They say that you could see far more colors than what your alien counterpart could ever do. They say that for everything else you lacked, you made up for with the way you’re more physically advanced and therefore adept to protecting the planet’s youngest prince.

No one’s ever said that you’ll be safe from Jungkook himself.

"Jungkook, let's go home. Please," you plead through your teeth, the word you’ve last spoken being the latest term you’ve taught him. Jungkook, along with everyone else, is not familiar with begging; they’re not familiar with desperation so wrung out, there’s actually a word made just for it.

Jungkook only scowls at you, eyes turning a bright red as opposed to his usual pink allotted for you. "Butt out," he murmurs, tightly crossing his arms as his nostrils flare involuntarily. ”You promised me I could be out tonight."

You’re starting to get over the heartbreak little by little, the tantrum thrown by the young prince making you indifferent.

Maybe you just misheard a few minutes ago — maybe, it was only a fluke and you didn’t hear it correctly the first time. Maybe it’s only your faulty impureness that made you susceptible to just hearing your nickname out of nowhere. Maybe, it’s not heartbreak that you were feeling, but rather only a subdued version of it by seeing Jungkook disappointed at you doing your job.

It’s your fault, you guess. Perhaps it’s the fault of the bustle of the club and the hundreds of dialects you could hear all at once finally got to you, overwhelming you to the point that you heard Jungkook calling for your name, despite not looking at you all.

You’re about to plead even more for the both of you to go back already; to save him from a lecture from all of his brothers and for you to be spared an even harsher scolding because they think you’ve gone too soft for him — but then you hear it. Again.

Jungkook clenches his jaw tightly, eyes glowing a bright magenta before he opens his mouth.

"Come on, princess," he calls you by his term of endearment for you, yet his hand is outstretched for the female Twellian on his side.

He’s not calling you — he’s not even paying attention to you. Jungkook isn’t giving you a shred of his focus but he wants you to hear him call someone else the endearment he had playfully made up for you, to which you grew accustomed to without fail. He wants you to see how he gives it to someone else easily, the syllables falling from his tongue easily getting into the girl’s head.

Jungkook wants you to know how angry he is over you doing your job, he hits you where it hurts. He has no idea what heartbreak is supposed to feel like, but he doubts that you’d even feel that emotion over what he’s done — and if you actually do over something seemingly simple (for him atleast), he could only think that everyone else is exaggerating what it felt like.

Your heart, whatever is human of it, skips. It tightens and it loosens alarmingly so, almost as if you have no control for the liquid hurt that compromises you.

“I’ll show you a good time tonight, princess,” Jungkook whispers to her ear loudly for good measure, eyes darting up at you, only for him to see that you’ve been watching the whole time.

You almost can’t tear your eyes away until Jungkook crashes his lips into hers, your nickname easily falling out of his lips as if the endearment is free for everyone; as if it’s never been yours in the first place and you only borrowed it out of desperation.

Your whole flight home is quiet.

Jungkook makes it back home before midnight, but you don’t.

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s been looking for you the whole day.

He’s been looking for you since he woke up, and that was fifteen ungodly hours ago when he had risen in a cold sweat. Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, and despite his insistence that something must be severely wrong with him for him to feel that way, the palace doctor (along with every other physician, healer, and reader he knew of) confirmed that nothing was out of place.

Jungkook’s supposedly okay, yet it feels like every part of him is being wrung dry. There’s an ache to his chest that renders him stupid because he feels like he’s forgotten every word, every lesson, and every vaguest bit of semblance that would detail about what he felt.

All of a sudden, Jungkook feels like he’s forgotten what the palace looks like. It’s as if he’s forgotten how tiles are supposed to feel cold on bare feet and how bleak his days are when he doesn’t have you by his side, even if the palace is also occupied by his brothers and the grounds are teeming with staff.

The young prince suddenly feels that he’s forgotten the very layout of his home because his mouth is agape at each room he walks in, simply because you’re not there. He’s practically turned the palace upside down just to grab a whiff of you somehow, and yet you’re nowhere to be found.

Nothing from his or his brothers’ belongings are missing. There’s not a single piece of furniture that’s tilted askew. Nothing has been taken from Jungkook except his peace of mind and the capacity to just stay still because your sudden disappearance unsettles him like no other.

You’re back home, except you’re no longer dressed in the same outfit you left him in.

Your uniform’s been ditched for something more casual — something more worn and lived in to the point that it looks like a shirt that’s never been yours in the first place. The sight of you, dressed in clothes that’s not yours, puts a bitter taste to Jungkook’s mouth.

He’s never been that selfish before. He’s generous and lenient as far as a prince could go, and yet he’s never felt this territorial over something seemingly as trivial as a shared garment.

The concern feels too vulnerable to the point that only a silly human, something Jungkook’s not, would consider it as a burden.

“Where were you?” he asks with the gentleness he didn’t think he’d possess after being worried shitless about you, the panic he had harbored for the longest time immediately dissipating at you.

Jungkook wants to be mad at you so, so, so badly. He wants to be angry at the way it was irresponsible for you to be alone because after all, your strength wouldn’t compensate for the gleaming fact that you’re not from here in the first place.

“I was on my leave,” you answer simply, keeping your hands behind your back as if this was any other outing with Prince Jungkook and not just Jungkook, the same man who’d call you princess for fun and hold your hand just for the sake of it.

“I didn’t say you could be on leave,” he lowers his voice, jaw tightening at the sight of you being indifferent towards him.

“I asked your brothers.”

Jungkook feels that sickness again. He feels that tinge of metal that lingers in the roof of his mouth and he wants to spit it out in front of you just to see if he’d find something else that’s not the sensations he’s been experiencing since you came around; if he’d find something else that’s not your doing yet affects him just as much.

“What if I needed protecting, hm? What if something happened to me while you were gone?” Jungkook half-taunts, shrinking on himself despite doing his hardest to appear big by crossing his arms.

“I knew you were in good hands, prince,” you tense, the tide that comes with your tone washing over Jungkook until he drowns in the realization that you were there while she was in his quarters. “I made to sure to hear that you were in very good company before I left.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s on a self-imposed break from his duties.

The prince’s duties almost exclusively involved chatting and being charismatic in general, along with the occasional goodwill event wherein he had to be all over the place just to take care of things, and not once did he ever take this long of a radio silent break — or atleast that’s what one of his brothers said.

He’s been cooped up in his room since you came back two weeks ago. Despite your absence (if you could even call it that) that barely lasted for an entire day, along with your confrontation just spanning within minutes, it’s been theorized by one of Jungkook’s brothers, again, that it’s because of your doing.

The youngest prince is theorized to be sulking over you and you simply cannot believe it.

You refuse to believe that Jungkook is bedridden with sadness because to begin with, his kind isn’t even supposed to feel such type of intense emotion. He shouldn’t be swayed by you — he shouldn’t be preoccupied with such pathetic, human emotion that you thought only you could feel because of him.

You rebuff the idea that he’s paralyzed with guilt, not only because you feel that it’s physically impossible for him to be, but because it’s him. Someone of Jungkook’s power and influence wouldn’t be so ridden with guilt that he refuses to show his face to you because he’s ashamed of hurting you.

You reject with your whole heart each and every idea that his brothers pitch you. You stay stationary with Jungkook and yet you will yourself to amount to something, even if it isn’t for him, just so the sickening feeling of being replaced won’t ever creep up to you.

You’re in love with him and it’s terrifying.

What’s even more terrifying is that you’re not the only one who knows so.

“I suggest not falling in love with Jungkook.”

You look up so sharply, your neck aches at the speed. Yoongi stands above you with a perfunctory smile, and with just the tiny bit of effort for him to come near you almost makes you forget that he’s Jungkook’s brother who had been particularly vocal about being wary of you.

“I’m sorry?” you murmur in disbelief, eyes wide and unblinking as you take into account his perfect tone.

“It’s obvious, you know?” he smiles tightly, pulling a chair to sit himself down across from you. Yoongi looks relaxed as he takes you in, almost as if he hasn’t spent half a year avoiding you. “I’ve seen the way you look at my brother. I’ve seen it over and over again when I was sent for a mission on your planet.”

You want to ask him why he’s telling you this. You want to ask badly why he’s saying this now when you’ve been certain for the longest time that your adoration for Jungkook wasn’t apparent in a land of creatures that don’t know what love, in your own terms, is supposed to look like.

You want to ask Yoongi why it shouldn’t be Jungkook, but you can’t bring yourself to — not because you know the answer deep down in your subconscious, but because you’re afraid that he would only make sense—

That he’d only solidify why Jungkook should never be in your orbit.

“Oh,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you like my planet then?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m sorry, my prince,” you immediately apologize, looking down on your lap as you wait for the impeding lecture; maybe even the impending punishment (you’re not sure what it is, but you know it would hurt someway and somehow) that comes with loving the prince, even by the sidelines.

“Jungkook is a wildcard at best,” he trails off, exhaling heavily as he listens for the heartbeat in the room behind you that houses his brother. “He’s brash and stubborn. He’s driven by emotions we are not even supposed to have.”

If Yoongi stands up now and jiggles the knob to Jungkook’s room with just the slightest bit of force, he can guarantee that the latter would be falling face-down to the floor, just because of the way he has his ears pressed to the door.

Jungkook is moping and sulking and to this day, he does remain miserable — the aforementioned factors don’t stop him from being desperate and nosy.

“What I’m saying is that he’s weak, Y/N,” Yoongi sighs. “The strong isn’t for the weak. That’s always been the case.”

“I know I’m weak, prince, but I-…”

“What?” the prince laughs out loud, the smile on his face wide and cheery. He’s so amused with you that his eyes glow into pink, throwing his head back as he regains his composure. “Jungkook’s the weak one. Not you, obviously,” he snorts. “He’s basically a loser with a crown on his head. He’s the one who doesn’t deserve you and not the other way around.”

You’re not the one who’s being insulted, and yet it feels like it. Your throat tingles and your ribs burn at the sudden urge for you to protect Jungkook, even if he’s in no real threat; even if it feels like all the baser parts of you are coming together just to make sense of the way you grow simultaneously weak and strong for him.

Jungkook, the actual subject who’s being insulted and is proving his brother right by being weak because he’s wallowing in his room out of self-deprecation, sadly hums to himself in agreement.

“I’m not-…”

“Don’t refute it — that’s an order.”

“Prince Yoongi,” you relent, trying to find the right words. “May I ask why you’re telling me this?”

“Because Jungkook’s weak,” Yoongi answers simply. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be weak with him and for him.”

( ♡ )

You’re eating dinner by yourself in the staff room when Jungkook walks in.

It’s the first you’ve seen of him in three weeks. He’s evidently moving on from what seems to have been a rough period for him, right when you’re at your lowest that you’ve ever been.

Prince Jungkook decides that after three weeks, he should take you by surprise and meet you in the staff room wherein you’re alone, pushing your dinner around your plate instead of doing any other menial task you’ve assigned yourself just so it would feel like you’re in use.

You’re just there. You just happen to be there and no one, even you, could do anything about it. You just happen to be there with no exact purpose and it’s gnawing at you from the inside out.

It feels all over again that your family is the runt of the entire extended bloodline. It feels that you’re not remarkable enough for your relatives to surround you and that you don’t amount to anything enough, in whatever aspect it is, to get a shred of attention that isn’t pity,

It feels like the sinking sensation in your chest wherein you have to see that all your mom could contribute to the table is her trusted homemade recipe during holidays, lost amongst a sea full of pre-ordered meals that only your relatives could afford. Like it’s how your dad’s side of the family is borderline batshit crazy and he’s the only one that turned out to be good, and you can’t do anything but watch strangers your have for blood relatives belittle you. Familiarly so, it’s like you’re a kid again with your siblings sitting on the carpet and cleaning up wrapping paper from gifts, not because the gifts are for you, but because you just happen to be there.

You feel like the alien that you are wherein you don’t belong; wherein your family has to sit on the spare chairs dug up from the basement, situated on a portable table outside of the actual, solid dining table where everyone’s sat.

Jungkook sits with you at that dusty, old portable table. He sits himself on the flimsy chair that’s only used for stepping and for laundry.

Jungkook sits with you, not because he just happens to be there, but because he’s there for you.

“I’m… sorry for calling someone else princess.”

“It’s no problem,” you murmur, putting your fork down as you keep your hands glued to your knees underneath the table.

“But there is a problem,” Jungkook counters, lowering his head to get you to look at him yet you don’t budge. “I’m not okay with calling anyone else princess other than you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“Then suit yourself,” you quip, even with your voice shaky and your vision blurry.

“I’m-…” Jungkook starts again, racking his brain for the limited vocabulary he has that surely isn’t enough to make up for his grave msitake. “I’m very sorry for making you feel bad. It must have hurt.”

“It’s no problem.”

“There’s a problem,” he insists. “I’m saying sorry because I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I did,” he frowns, beyond confused to why you keep denying the fact that he’s hurt you in ways he can’t even imagine.

“You really didn’t.”

“Why do you not want me to say sorry?” Jungkook questions, voice raising yet he still looks confused— innocent, even. “Did I… hurt you that much?”

It’s the last straw for you. The pure innocence in Jungkook’s words is and should be the last straw for you because it only makes you realize that he’d never understand you. It resonates in your head, more than ever, that you’ll never be able to understand him fully either because you’ll never be the same.

The only option the universe provides you is for you to love Jungkook halfway.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Prince Jungkook. I shall go back to-…”

“Can I not say sorry to you?” Jungkook bursts, darting his hand out blindly to get a hold on you before you leave.

“You can’t say sorry to me because all of this would feel real,” you ramble, shaking your head vehemently. “You should not say sorry to me because that would mean that I’m hurt because I love you.”

Jungkook looks at you innocently with his eyes wide and lips parted, blissfully unaware of the name to the sensation that keeps tugging at his chest to the point that it feels like it would burst open, yet above all else, he still dives in head-first.

“Can you not love me, princess?” he tilts his head. “Is it not allowed?”

( ♡ )

Yoongi’s words lie heavily on both you and Jungkook.

The prince’s sentiment stays on your chest like a paperweight that only grows heavier the more that you try to push it off. You know Yoongi means well, no matter how his words come across otherwise, but the longer that you think about his own suggestion regarding his brother, the more you feel unsure.

Jungkook’s made complete sense of his brother’s words on the other hand, and instead of being filled with a type of rage that only bubbles up when being looked down on, oddly enough, he comes to the truth quite easily.

He knows the truth that he’s weak despite painting himself the opposite, and he feels it the most now that you’re the one who’s distancing yourself from him. Jungkook feels like swallowing the sun and chasing it down with water when you respond to princess, even if it’s jokingly uttered by his brothers and not said sincerely by him alone.

He knows the truth that he’s the weak one in the family, if not the weakest, whenever he stands next to them. Jungkook may be the poster prince for the citizens but he knows the most out of everyone that he’s not as vital to the kingdom as the others are. He may get an assigned seat at the actual, solid dining table, but he knows that he’s not at the head of it.

He knows he’s weak, with and for you, and that’s never bothered him until it actually did.

Jungkook’s eyesight isn’t as good as yours.

Unlike you, he’s restrained by the entirety of his Twellian blood from immediately focusing his gaze on anything. There’s a lag that registers whenever he fixes his sight on anything, just like everyone else but you, and that hadn’t been a bother to Jungkook the whole time.

He had falsely assumed that since you’re the only one who’s different here, the only exception in the planet by being impure and partially human, you’d be the one who’ll have a hard time adjusting your daily life to his — not the other way around.

Jungkook, who had not once ever felt insecurity before, suddenly feels inferior. He feels like dirt and yet he’s angry, not because of the fact that he comes second to your abilities, but because he can’t do shit when it comes to you.

The prince’s eyesight isn’t good enough to notice the tiny little expressions that litter your face whenever something remotely intriguing happens to you. His hearing isn’t on par with yours because he can’t register the laugh in your voice as quickly as you could recognize his. He’s not on the same level as you and it’s only now that it bothers him—

The realization creeps into Jungkook, slowly yet unsettlingly, when he sees the cut on your cheek; the liquor of inferiority, chased down by Jungkook’s own rage, only hits him the moment he sees that a nasty bruise is blossoming by the corner of your eye.

Jungkook grips your jaw lightly out of nowhere, making you look up at him unexpectedly when you had been only preoccupied with fixing him his drink. The prince, no matter the unmistakeable rage that’s brewing in red, is the softest he’s ever been when it comes to addressing you.

“Who hurt you?”

He has all his attention on you and it’s almost sickening with the way he doesn’t want to break off. Jungkook’s hand is still on your jaw and his eyes are still fixed on yours and yet his mind, whatever remains rational of it and not just vengeful, is going a million miles per hour.

“Get your hands off me,” you spit, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the vitriol that spills out of him so clearly, the air around both of you shifts.

“I asked you a question,”Jungkook repeats, putting is hand on your wrist firmly instead. He makes the grave mistake of looking down, though, because as soon as he realizes that there’s blood caked underneath your nails and that your knuckles are stained with your own blood, Jungkook can no longer hold himself back. “Who. Hurt. You.”

Jungkook’s reflexes are slow, but the moment your bottom lip trembles in vulnerability and pure bitterness, he feels as if time has caught on to the point that it’s only your anguish that sharpens his senses.

His feelings, even.

“If I tell you, would it make a difference? If I’m considered weak, Jungkook, then that means you’re even weaker,” you scoff, eyes trained on the ground with your head low so you could muffle the tremble in your voice; not that it would make your prince any less attuned to you.

Jungkook’s eyes remain narrowed at you, breathing heavily as you only state the facts not to insult him, but to remind the both of you of your place — or whatever is left clear of it because Jungkook can’t even think straight the longer that he looks at you hurting.

“What, prince? What are you gonna do about it?” you spit as the last resort, standing up abruptly to storm off and make an escape for it just once so you’ll be free of the burden of being yourself in Jungkook’s existence, yet he doesn’t let you.

The grip that the prince has on your arm is unstable yet unyielding at the same time, as if it’s taking everything in Jungkook to remain standing despite wanting to hunch over by the unexplainable tremor that roots from his chest.

(It is taking everything in him.)

“Burn,” he utters. “I’ll burn everything.”

“You’re-…”

“Weaker than you? I know that,” Jungkook interrupts, his lips set in a straight line as he lets himself be swept by the current that is you. “All the more reason to do everything for you then.”

The young prince doesn’t even break his gaze from you once, even if his pupils are trembling and his teeth are chattering out of the sheer trepidation that comes with being scared for someone else who carries your heart with them.

He doesn’t break his gaze from you, even for the briefest second, as he fishes out his (your) handkerchief from his pocket that’s there, not because it just happens to be, but because it’s allotted for you.

To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides, and Jungkook no longer wants the star to swallow him whole because he doesn’t want you to be burned.

Jungkook wants to love you all the way.

#heh :D #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #alien jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader

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lineli225 · 8 months ago

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Tomura Shigaraki 's abuse and neglect under All for One

I've decided to make this post due to the fact AFO's abuse towards Tomura is often ignored and even denied, so I'll be bringing a collection of scenes that prove he was being severally neglected during the 15 years he lived with AFO

1- Malnourishment and Underweight

At the beginning of the story Tomura used to be very skinny, his spine visible, very accentuated collar bones.

We can't see if his ribcages are exposed too since he's always dressed, but we can tell he is abnormally skinny and thin.

Some theorize AFO's purposefully keeps him in this state so he's more weak and frail similar to Yoichi. Or so it adds to his tiredness and numbness.

He's also been shown randomly struggling before (it could've been the aftershock of Stain attack, i don't know)

2- Lack of hygiene

He literally lives in pure filth, trash bags, old soda cans, paper, boxes, packages of food that seems ordered other than homemade, it lingers all over his floor, he is clearly a hoarder

It's completely different of the kept and clean bar, and now before you say "That's Tomura's responsibility, he's an adult he should clean it himself!" just think for a minute, if you had a son, that you see as your heir, and bets on their future so much,If you truly cared about them and saw they felt into a hoarder mindset, wouldn't you at least help?

Why not even Kurogiri cleans if Tomura was being cared by him? This clearly is intentional neglect, specially to keep his mood constantly down.

3 - His teeth

Tomura canonically has crooked teeth (compare his teeth to the other's in the jump festa art), cavities or at least what looks like plaques or dirt all over his teeth.

For someone raised by someone as filthy rich as AFO, he should've had access to dental care

4- Shaggy hair

His hair looks un-brushed, shaggy and dirty, which had no reason for before MVA when he became homeless, so why even at the start? How long has he taken a bath or a shower?

Look at the blatant difference in this scene after he showered at the PLF mansion

5- Unkept, ragged and broken nails

despite his hands also being very skinny, his nails are also all rough and broken Now, I know Tomura isn't a kid to have someone cut his nails for him, but this implies he was never teached how to take care for himself.

Besides of course his clear symptoms of depression and suicidal idealism, which, are very obvious, All for One IS neglecting Tomura by keeping him in that state /knowing/ he isn't being capable of taking care of himself.

6- His bedroom

First of all: No windows

Second, notice how empty it used to be, he had nothing but a bed and a desk, but right as he committed his first murder he started to receive toys, AFO is lovebombing and manipulating him to kill more

7- The obvious neglect to his pain

Notice how every time Tomura panics or is even wounded, he is just ignored and left on the floor bleeding out, puking or writhing.

Which uh- it isn't normal to watch your kid writhe in the floor while smiling and monologuing

8- 24/7 Surveillance and lack of privacy

There are cameras everywhere, AFO spends most of the time watching Tomura, even in his own bedroom, and even talks to him, Tomura probably hasn't had any privacy ever since he was 5

Which is a sign of abuse and control

His entire childhood from 5 to 20 is often relatable for people who grew in cult like environments, and homeschooled children who grew under controlling parents, despite the abuse not being as "obvious" since AFO never directly physically hurt him, the neglect and psychological torture is still there, that and more all the manipulation, gaslighting and grooming (think of Mother Gothel from Tangled as an example of this type of abuser)

By the way, talking about it

9- Gaslighting

"but wasn't /you/ who desired my power?"

The entire body possession plot is a clear evidence AFO never saw Tomura as anything other than a toy to play with, the same way he saw Yoichi, but so many people say the possession was a retcon because "early afo cleared saw him as his heir, he even said it's all for him!"

Well, argue with the literal "he's the next me", while he is.... weirdly caressing the screen while he watches his kid with no privacy- 100% creep behavior

10- AFO's bizzare behavior towards Tomura

The way All for One's hands are often shown caressing him or encasing him somehow, which yeah, it's part of the symbology of Tomura's character (hands that can both hurt and save)

But knowing AFO represents /hurt/ and, you know, i'ts kinda weird to caress the kid you kidnaped off the streets like that-

Cuz yes! Picking kids from the street even if they are orphan is illegal!! You should take them to a police station instead :D

Tomura was KIDNAPED by AFO, not saved.

11- Proof Tomura doesn't /feel/ saved

During his fight against Bakugou, when he sees him being helped, besides being "broken" he starts to spiral on "why no one saved me even before i was broken?"

The visual including the granny that ignored him on the streets

AFO broke him.

He recurrently thinks back to when he was on the streets, even though he was already traumatized, and had already killed his family, he still had /hope/ he ADMITS he believes he could've been different if it wasn't for AFO

If AFO had truly saved him,he wouldn't think like this

12- AFO gifting Tomura the corpses of his family to intentionally keep him nauseated, uncomfortable and traumatized, so he never heals

Besides their weird placements- On a kid. the gangster's hands being in his chest...

13-AFO's intentional desire for Tomura's discomfort

If this entire thread didn't make it obvious already, All for One benefits of Tomura's tiredness, ill feelings, nausea, depression and suicidal mindset, and over all physical and psychological discomfort

This ensures he's submissive to his manipulations and orders, keep him feeling hatred and anger due to constant overwhelming feelings and makes it harder for him to think of why AFO does all of it at all.

I could go even deeper than this about it, but i've reached thread limit and am lazy, so I hope you enjoyed this thread!

Thank you for reading

#shigaraki tomura #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #deku #izuku midoriya #all for one #afo #mha manga

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helen-with-an-a · 1 month ago

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Beautiful Girl Headcanons 4

Alexia Putellas x reader

Beautiful Girl Masterlist

Amor has a Polaroid that brings on all of their dates - she keeps a scrapbook of all of their dates in order, what they did and where they were

Alexia didn’t tell Amor she was dying her hair pink she just came home from visiting Alba with it

Amor can speak German (she played at Wolfsburg) and it’s one of the few big European languages Ale really has no clue what they’re talking about (with French and Italian she can get a general understanding of the conversation because of Ale’s knowledge of Spanish and Catalan) - Amor, Ingrid, Caro, Frido and Eva like to speak on German sometimes (partly so they don’t loose the language but also because it drives the Spanish gals insane)

Amor likes the bedroom to be absolutely freezing at night time but Ale is a big cuddler

Amor starts to call Ale ‘my wife’ when she’s out in public and Alexia legitimately panics thinking that she and Amor got married but she doesn’t remember it

Amor likes to leave some rather … scandalous … Polaroids for Alexia whenever they’re apart for more than a few days

Ingrid and Ale set up play dates for Amor and Mapí without their knowledge - they sit and gossip whilst Mapí and Amor play video games and stuff (Amor and Mapí just think it’s a group hang out)

When Ale got the all clear from the doctors to play matches again after her ACL, Amor was sobbing harder than Alexia was

Every anniversary, Ale gifts Amor a scrapbook to fit their Polaroid date memories in - they’re personalised with the date and which year of the relationship it is (they usually go on at least 1 date a week so it’s quite a hefty album)

When Alexia played her first minutes back after her injury, Amor surprised her with a strip tease and lap dance when they got home

Every time they see a photo booth, Amor and Ale have to go in it - they always do the same 4 poses (one nice smiley one, their heads pressed together; one with Amor kissing Ale’s cheek; one where Ale is kissing Amor’s cheek; and one where they’re mid-make out) - the photos get pinned on a cork board they keep propped on their sex toy dresser

Ale is an early bird and Amor is just a permanently exhausted pigeon

Their periods have synched up - Ale’s appears first and 2 days later Amor’s has arrived

Amor knows Ale’s skin care routine off by heart and Ale knows Amor’s

Amor is a heavyweight when it comes to her alcohol whereas Ale gets giggly after one drink

The sex toy dresser came about after Ale asked Alba to grab something from her bedside cabinet but Alba opened the wrong drawer

Amor is a lamp kinda person - the Big Light is banned from being switched on

Ale gets really irritated when Amor doesn’t put things in the washing basket

Amor is not a fan of the yellow kits - she understands the significance and importance completely and would never say it out loud but she thinks she looks hideous in it and wishes they didn’t wear it

Ale is basically a hoarder - anything Amor has given her has been kept (down to the wrapper of a chocolate bar Amor surprised her with whilst she was on her period when they first got together)

Amor occasionally uses the Polaroid during sex because she knows this is the only way those sorts of photos won’t be hacked - they’re all stored away in a safe that she keeps in the back of the wardrobe

Amor’s favourite kit to look at was the light purple 21-22 away kit but her favourite kit to wear was the 22-23 home kit

Alex’s love language is words of affirmation; Amor’s is gift giving but they both have physical touch as their second

Before Amor proposed to Ale, she asked Eli if she could take her out for lunch, they ended up at Alexia’s father’s grave and she asked for their daughter’s hand - she said it was important that she asked both of them and she hopes Jaume would approve of her and Alexia’s decision to love Amor

The reason why Amor was once called the devil by a dad of a boy she played against was because she pushed him (the dad) really hard (essentially jelly legged him) and he fell over - she was 6 and he was bullying is child because she beat him

Ale will cry at the drop of a hat when she’s watching movies if she’s alone with Amor, if there’s anyone else in the room (even her mum and sister) she refuses to let the tears fall

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goldfish-afterhours · 11 months ago

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Genshin Characters When They Realize They Love You

Characters: Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao x gn!reader

Type/genre: Bulleted headcanons, fluff, slight angst

Warnings: Self-doubt/anxiety, not proofread

Kaeya

Knows he loves you when you tolerate his antics

You see through his flirtatious mask, and though you may roll your eyes in exasperation sometimes, you never lose your patience with him

Sometimes you even join in on his bits, telling tall tales to children or helping him convince the town that drinks were half-off at the Angel’s Share tonight

“If enough people believe it, then Master Diluc has to follow through, right? Can’t let his regulars down~”

Kaeya has been itching to say those three words. He can feel it creeping up his throat everytime you scold him for taking his tricks too far, everytime you smile at him

But for some reason, he finds himself holding back

What if you leave? What if you perceive it as weakness?

What if you don’t love him back?

He knows these thoughts are irrational, but he cannot stop his worst fears from creeping into his head

But the longer he waits to say it, the deeper of a hole he digs for himself

He loved you with his entire being. He was only trying to protect himself

So how come you were standing in front of him, hands covering your face as you sobbed that he didn’t love you?

Upon seeing you in that state, in a panic Kaeya forgets about the scared little boy in the rain, and the words come rushing out before he can stop them

“I’m sorry. I love you, I love you more than anything in this world, I promise. I…I love you. So please…don’t cry.”

Childe

Realizes he loves you just as you are beating someone up for information

Not surprisingly, Childe is addicted to the thrill that danger brings. And if the thrill comes in the form of you, isn’t it obvious he is addicted to you as well?

And what else could that be but love?

Also he’s just into people who can beat him up

No such thing as a bad time or place. The moment he realizes he loves you, those three words are already flying out of his mouth

Everyone in the situation was stunned—it was enough to make you stop punching the treasurer hoarder in the face, and the treasurer horder was staring at him dumbfounded through bloodied, swollen eyes

“Don’t mind me, I just felt like saying it. As you were, then?”

Zhongli

Knows he’s in love with you when you remember the things he forgets

As a god, there weren’t many things he had to remember to carry on his physical person, so he’s still getting used to it

After all, what use is food to an immortal being, an umbrella when his clothes were already soaked in blood, or mora to the God of Money?

But after leaving his archonhood behind, he has to start carrying such things around

He’s trying his best, but is still getting used to it so he frequently forgets

But you remember for him

You show up at his workplace, lunchbox in hand, chiding him for forgetting when you worked so hard cooking it this morning

You show up just as he clocks out for the day, a large umbrella held over your head to block the pitter-patter of the rain, saying how you didn’t want him to get his new suit wet

You chase after Zhongli on his way to the marketplace, scolding him between pants for making you run to give him his wallet

You could’ve let him suffer the consequences for his airheadedness, but instead you go out of your way to cover for him, and he loves you so much for it

The next time you give him something he forgot, he thanks you with a kiss

“Thank you for bringing it for me, my flower. I love you.”

Xiao

Realizes he loves you when you stay, despite it all

You’re not afraid of him. Even as a bringer of death and destruction, you don’t even hesitate to be around him

Even as the dark forces of his karmic ties suffocate him, you stay by his side, comforting him with quiet encouragements as he endures the pain

It’s not just because you’re the only thing keeping him sane. Even when the whispers grow quiet, you bring a sense of peacefulness and serenity to Xiao, one he hasn’t felt in thousands of years

You make him feel safe

You’ve made it clear to him that you’re not going anywhere, and he cannot begin to express how much he needed you to ground him

On one of the days the demons become head-splittingly loud in his ears, you cradle him in your arms, whispering sweet nothings to overpower the voices

Slowly but steadily, they grew quieter and quieter, until all Xiao could hear was your honeyed voice and the sound of his own harsh breathing

Overcome with appreciation for you, he opened his mouth to say something, but he was exhausted

All he could utter were three words that only began to dip into the reverence he has for you

“I…love you.”

#I rewrote Diluc’s 3 times and hated each one so I just took him out <3 #my writing #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #Kaeya #Childe #Zhongli #Xiao #Kaeya x reader #Childe x reader #Zhongli x reader #Xiao x reader

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luxthestrange · 3 months ago

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G.I Incorrect Quotes#116 *Suprised pikachi face*

Treasure hoarder Leader...having a soft spot for the Kabukimono from Shakkei Pavilion

Kunikuzishi: I-'m surprised you knew I'd be here

TH!Y/n: It seemed like the obvious pick~

Kunikuzishi:...True soo...umm what can I do you for?

TH!Y/n: I made a promise to myself and I'm here to keep it~

-In an Inn room that you purchased for privacy-

Kunikuzishi*Innocent head tilt*Wanna read a movie orrrr...

TH!Y/n: Sweetie drop your pants~

Kunikuzishi*Jumps and nods with a blush as he undoes his knots*Oh...OH-KAY!But umm...just a heads up I'm...a grower

TH!Y/n*Amused by his remark but then eyes bulged in shock at his size*!?!?

TH!Y/n:Oh...my....archons-

Kunikuzishi*Confused pantless*...what?

TH!Y/n*Turned around from the shock but points to the bed*GET ON THE BED!

Kunikuzishi*Nods cutely but his more than generous friend is still out, excited about whats gonna happen*Yes!

TH!Y/n*Covers face with a blush and panics*...h-he's like and oni in disguise-

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin kunikuzushi #treasure hoarder y/n #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x y/n #genshin smut #kunikuzushi #genshin wanderer #genshin scara #genshin scaramouche #genshin incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes

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impactedfates · 1 year ago

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hehhaharhar i so totally not deprived of father figure! genshin men with kidnapped child reader? pls pls 💓💓💓any man is fine but perferably the tall ones ☝

★ A/N: Yeah sure you aren't...anyways, yep I got you covered with this request :))

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial

★ Format: HeadCannons (Characters Included (Separate): Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Childe, Kaveh)

☆ Warnings: Mentions and hints of kidnapping // Mentions of death (In Diluc and Childes) // Spoilers for the Liyue Archon quest if you have not done it yet // Mentions of going to the hospital (Kavehs)

★ Extra: Reader is adopted in Zhonglis one // Reader is shorter then most characters (They're about 6-7 age wise) // Reader has no vision // Reader is ofc NOT traveler

For whatever reason I can see it being a Fatui that kidnapped you. Perhaps to get payback for the massacre Diluc caused back in Snenznaya. Whatever the reason, once Diluc finds out you’re gone and it was because of the Fatui? Oh he’s more then pissed.

If they wanted to upset him, they succeeded. Perhaps too successfully as when he finally finds you, most of the Fatui that’s been there to ensure you don’t escape has been soaking in a pool of their own blood. He of course won’t hurt anyone violently if you’re in the room, but he will knock the other people in there out. He’ll pick you up and hide your face in his chest as he calmly walks out.

When you are back home, he’ll take a few days off work to ensure you’re okay after what happened, and maybe if it comes to it he may actually ask some of the Knights of Favonius for help as well.

Honestly whether or not he actually hurt anyone is up to you, however I do think that when it comes to family, he isn't that hesitant to be a bit more violent then usual.

Getting adopted and having your father being the ex-archon of Liyue had it's ups and downs, especially as you witnessed your father continuously forget his wallet, however never have you thought you'd get kidnapped.

You weren't sure why though, Zhongli had kept his identity a secret and the only ones knowing were other Archons and the traveler as far as you knew plus Zhongli in his "mortal" form isn't that much of an important figure to others, nor is he famous. Yet here you were, treasure hoarders surrounding you.

Meanwhile, Zhongli was panicking wondering where you went. One second you were close behind him, the next you were gone. So he quickly called upon some of the adeptus to search for you and thankfully, you also had the privilege to call upon Xiaos name and he'll come right to your side. Whatever happened to the treasure hoarders?

You're not sure, Xiao simply teleported you away and right into your fathers arms as he held you tight before disappearing into the green mist once again. Zhongli checks all over you to ensure you aren't hurt. After that day, he's sure to always have an eye on you and when he cannot. An adeptus will look out for you from afar.

Being a Knight, and a captain in fact. Kaeya definitely encountered people wanting to push his cool persona over the edge. It's part of the reason why he's a bit hesitant on growing closer to certain loved ones.

He's afraid of loosing them, so when he lost you. He did not take it well, despite his cool demeanour when he ordered some knights to go search for you, people like Jean and his brother Diluc were quick to see he was in a state of panic, Jean even offered to take over the search so Kaeya could relax but he didn't want too. He had to find you safe and sound, even if that meant he had to get hurt.

When you are finally found, he's quick to take whoever's responsible away and have Jean deal with them properly as he himself brings you to Barbara who checks for injuries you may have sustained. He's by your side at all times and may even be hesitant to leave your side.

Even though Jean likely did give him some time off to spend time with you and for him to cool down after what happened, he's still unwilling to leave you alone, even with another babysitter. He does reluctantly agree when his older brother offers to take care of you. He knows Diluc is strong and will be able to protect you. (Better than Diluc protecting him anyways)

Whoever kidnapped you must have a death wish or something...

Of course it's easy to see why someone were to kidnap you. I mean, being the kid of not only the fatui, but a harbinger. It's clear why someone tried to kidnap Tartaglia's kid but...it's not smart either.

The Fatui have a large amount of people working for them, and most aren't afraid to attack. And due to the fact Childe is a harbinger, it's easy for him to get people to find you as soon as he knows of your disappearance and when you are found, he asks his subordinates to take you back to his house where his family will look after you whilst Childe *cough cough* uh...deals with the perps responsible.

He'll come back soon, cleaned up but faintly smelling of blood and double checks to see you're okay. Now he does go back to work faster then anyone else, this is mainly because I don't think he'll really be allowed time off, however he does have some subordinates keep an eye on you from afar.

Oh archons, he is p a n i c k i n g. Once Kaveh finds out you've been kidnapped he's so worried, it takes Alhaitham to actually shake him to get him to finally focus on finding you. Unfortunately unlike the others listed in this post so far, he cannot easily go looking for you himself. However being friends with Cyno does mean you have the General of the Mahamatra looking for you and he is good at his job.

It may take awhile but eventually Cyno does find you, and after dealing with the kidnappers and arresting them. Takes you to the Sumeru hospital (they have one right?) to get healed as he tells Kaveh that you've been found.

Kaveh stays by your side no matter what, he'll sleep on the damn floor of the hospital if he has too, he doesn't even leave you once you're discharged from it either. He feels so guilty about what happened and blames himself so he tries his best to make more time with you. Even if this means his debts may increase, he just wants to spend as much time with you as possible encase this happens again.

And hey, Alhaitham may be kind enough to dismiss Kavehs missed rent payment that month.

Weehee. I actually enjoyed writing this :D However next time please make sure to check to see if my requests are open before sending one in, in any case I hope you liked this <33

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shawnxstyles · 2 years ago

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stupid

DATE: MARCH 27, 2023

summary: as a challenge, you try to get yourself out of handcuffs. eventually, you find yourself unsuccessful, leaving you confined to your bed. when your roommate harry sees your predicament, he can’t help but be a little turned on, especially when he notices that you are too.

song: invisible string- taylor swift

words: 5.8k

warnings: SMUT (f-receiving [fingering, bondage {handcuffs}], m-receiving [masturbation], praise kink, unprotected sex [coming inside], dirty talk), some pining, and language

note: a cheesy ass storyline but it still has me in a chokehold. also, i’m posting this at 3 am :D (sorry if the gif is all weird)

fratrry x college!reader (my favorite pairing 🤭)

—

“Oh, fuck me.”

It was stupid—you were so stupid.

Your heart falls in a panic as you thrash around on your bed, trying to break the cuffs surrounding your wrists.

You got caught up in a video. Some stupid video you scrolled to on the internet that explained how to escape handcuffs in an emergency. With a Bobby pin. You watched the full thing out of curiosity and boredom, but then decided to try it.

Because why the hell not, right?

Who the hell has a Bobby pin in an emergency? You didn’t think about this part until after you were stuck.

You rummaged through your messy closet, searching for the cuffs. Luckily, you were a bit of a hoarder and kept mainly everything you bought. One year for Halloween you were a cop (basic, but cute), so of course you had handcuffs when you bought the outfit.

Huh, they’re way nicer than you remember.

Snatching the handcuffs, you sat back on your bed and rewatched the video again. The demonstrator was handcuffed to the leg of a table while the instructor showed the camera and directed the viewers. Once you felt confident enough, you were going to attempt it.

At this moment, you didn’t think twice about how stupid it might be.

You looked around your room for somewhere to practice. You didn’t want to use the table in the small dining room because it was crowded with stuff on it. Plus, you didn’t want your roommate, Harry, to walk through the door and see you doing another stupid thing you found on the internet.

The amount of times he’s caught you doing something strange is ridiculous. To anyone else, it would be embarrassing. But Harry is your best friend, who is able to keep up with your madness, and who you might maybe have a crush on. Okay fine, it was a big, fat, stupid crush.

90% of the time your internet attempts were some type of trick that ends in something breaking.

But this—this has got to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever attempted.

Your eyes circled around the entire room before you landed on your bedpost.

Stable. Unmoving. Bingo.

Reaching up and turning your head, you locked one of the cuffs to your wrist. Then you grab the small pin in the other hand. You loop the chain around the pole and cuff that hand. Facing the locked cuffs, you cramp your hand in a certain way that allows you to ram the pin into the lock hole. You twist it easily and free yourself from the cuffs.

You smirk to yourself at how easy it was. You decide to do it another time. And then another. You got confident with the movements, so you switched the pin to your non-dominant hand. It was slightly trickier, but you were still able to release yourself.

Knowing yourself, you wouldn’t stop until the challenge became a real challenge. So you decided to make it a little harder.

You made sure your body was facing forward, away from the post, before looping the chain around the wooden pole. You clicked the cuff on your left wrist, locking you to the post.

Now, you would try to unlock the cuffs blindly.

With the pin in your dominant hand, you try to maneuver it so it can reach the lock opening. You feel around with your fingers as much as they allow, trying to picture where the hole is. Thinking you felt it, you confidently jam the pin into it before twisting it.

However, your confidence failed you because you were too cocky. The pin slides through one of the chain links that you mistook for the lock hole and slips from your fingers. You let out a small gasp as it does, realizing what position you’ve gotten yourself into this time.

“Oh, fuck me.”

It was stupid—you were so stupid.

Your heart falls in a panic as you thrash around on your bed, trying to break the cuffs surrounding your wrists. Your eyes dodge around the room, trying to think of a solution. You notice the key to the cuffs lying tantalizingly on the bed. It was way too close for you to reach it with your foot, and you obviously couldn’t bend your head down to grab it.

There was only one thing you would do; wait for Harry to come home.

—

Harry presses a button on the treadmill, slowing down the conveyor belt beneath him. He huffs and puffs, trying to catch his breath. Even though he feels like he’s killing himself at the gym sometimes, he can’t help but love the feeling afterwards. That post-workout sensation that motivates him to get up and walk in the gym the next day. It was addicting to say the least.

As he steps off the treadmill, his phone begins to buzz. He looks down at the contact, feeling his heart buzz similarly at the name. He slips his finger across the glass, answering your FaceTime call.

“What’s up?” Harry answers the phone, holding it up so you could see his sweaty face while he stares at your ceiling. He packs up his bag and heads towards the locker rooms.

“I need help,” You shout, loudly enough so Harry could hear you from the phone, which was at the end of the bed. You had finally used some cells in your brain to use Siri to FaceTime him. Harry scrunches his eyebrows and stands stucksill in the middle of the locker room. Without hesitation, he starts to head for the exit of the building, thinking you’re in some type of life-threatening emergency.

“What? Are you okay?” Harry speaks anxiously as he reaches his car and turns the engine on.

“I’m fine! I’m fine! I just need you to…help me out,” You reassure hastingly with a grunt, continuing to thrash around as if that’s going to work.

It hasn’t for the past half hour.

Harry’s heart calms down a few beats, since your life clearly isn’t threatened. He hears the clanging of the metal to the wood.

“What’s that noise?” He questions, scrunching his nose.

“It’s, um, me,” You squeak vaguely. It was so embarrassing that the words couldn’t even leave your mouth without a cringe rolling through your body.

In a flashing moment, the pieces finally clicked in Harry’s head.

“You did another challenge again, didn’t you?” You stayed silent, too stubborn to admit that he was right and that you were stupid. He knew you well enough to know that your silence meant he was right, so he scoffed and groaned before hanging up the phone.

After parking in his usual spot, he grabs his gym bag and heads for your shared apartment. He trudges up the stairs, his legs brutally sore after today. Harry fumbles with the keys until he unlocks the door. When he walks in, he instantly hears you shouting his name in relief.

“Harry! Oh my god!” Harry knew it was wrong to be thinking the way he was thinking, but he couldn’t help it.

He imagined those words as moans spewing from your mouth as you lie underneath him. He envisioned fucking you deep and slow so you’d feel every inch of him. If he lingered on the idea long enough, he could imagine the depth of your cunt as he sinks into it, all wet and snug around his cock. Your hands would pull on his hair as he said the most sinful things to you. Some nights he had to conjure this type of fantasy to relieve himself, and he felt selfish every time.

He couldn’t believe that he was turned on simply from your voice.

God, he wanted you so bad.

Throwing his gym bag on the messy table, he heads for your room and discards his thoughts. The door is wide open, and before he even gets inside, he’s facing your predicament.

Your arms are raised above your head while your wrists remain trapped in metal confinements. Your body was slumped, probably tired from trying to escape. Your chest rises up and down in frustration. He could sense the irritation radiating off of you. It was laughable. Very, very laughable.

But his mind wandered back to his thoughts from a few minutes ago when he imagined pounding into you. Now, in his new fantasy, you were cuffed to your bed. Just like you are now, you wouldn’t be able to have your hands in his hair, but he’d lower his head in between your legs this time. The thought—the sight— of you in those cuffs was about to send him in a spiral.

He was half hard.

“Fuck me,” He muttered, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply.

“Are you going to help me or just stand there and watch my misery?”

“I don’t know, I kind of like it,” Harry teased, being honest, but not in the way you probably thought.

You weren’t the type for one-night stands. But when he saw you bring home the person you were dating (at the time), some deep, unwanted feeling burned in his stomach. Harry eventually labeled the feeling as hatred; he hated everyone you brought home, no matter how nice they were in the morning aftermath. You and Harry got too close, too friendly for anything like that to be allowed.

So, he would invite girls over because he realized he couldn’t have you. And eventually that created a cycle he couldn’t break because, again, he couldn’t have you. He couldn’t break it without you. No amount of girls or any other girls made him feel the way you made him feel.

He thought whatever he was feeling for you made him weak, but it really made him stronger, better.

Now, he stood a few feet from your bed, arms crossed in amusement. He hopes that if he joked enough you wouldn’t notice the bulge growing in his gym shorts.

You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck at his words. Although he can be sweet and soft, Harry was as much of a frat boy as the rest of them. He talked women up and brought them back to his room with his panty-melting smirk. You couldn’t help but envy them every time you heard the noises they made, knowing that Harry was the one causing them. Your stupid crush and hormonal body made his words sound like some sexual innuendo, but you knew Harry wouldn’t truly have any intentions behind it.

So what if he makes flirty, teasing comments that make your stomach drop and your heart race a million miles an hour? They weren’t intentional and he does it with everyone.

“Like it? Kinky shit,” You mumbled to yourself as your neck burns up, but of course Harry wasn’t going to let that slide. He was going to have a little fun with it.

“What did you say?” Harry leaned towards you with his ear, now wandering closer to your bed. You glared at him in irritation.

“Nothing. Just open the cuffs!” You said, ignoring him without making eye contact.

“No, I don’t think I will. This is quite fun actually,” He crosses his arms and smugly smiles, teetering on his feet. He should have left by now to take care of his erection that’s pulsing in his shorts, but he’s having too much fun. This is truly one of the stupidest things you’ve done. You roll your eyes as you wriggle your wrists pathetically, attempting a lost cause. Harry laughs, clearly enjoying your misery.

“Do you get off on this or something?”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs. You don’t know why, but your heart skipped a beat and your neck continued to be aflame. The slight thought that Harry might be attracted to you, even if it was you at your mercy, caught you off guard. Slightly. “You have to admit it’s a little arousing.”

Your heart rate increases as he steps closer to you, eyes doe-y and wide as you take in the view. Every comeback or quick wit washes away from you.

“Is it?” He asks.

“Is it what?” You try to focus on the conversation, but it’s hard when his post-workout body is standing only inches away from you. In any other scenario, you would have pushed him away or brushed off his comment. But you can’t run away this time. Instead of looking at him, you stare at some spot on the floor.

“Is it arousing for you? To be all helpless and needy?” His voice is taunting. His words caused your cunt to instinctively clench, making your thighs do the same. His eyesight peered at your legs for a moment, hopefully not noticing the action.

“No,” You lied straight through your teeth. Your hands turned into fists as you dug your nails into your palms, trying to keep it together.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” No.

“I don’t like liars, Y/N,” Harry raises his eyebrows in a hurtful way and then slowly starts backing away. You shake your head in confusion as he heads for the door. “Now, I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be back.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do not leave me here!” You shout as you squirm for the millionth time. But he leaves and walks out of the room. He purposefully leaves the door open and heads down the hall into your shared bathroom.

Harry had a plan. If you weren’t willingly going to tell him you were aroused, which it was very obvious that you are, he would tease you. It was his greatest strength.

After turning on the shower and stripping from his clothes, he purposefully leaves his door open too, so you can hear everything. Once he gets in, he doesn’t hesitate to take his aching erection in his palm. He strokes his length as his body gets lathered in water.

Pictures of you with the cuffs appear in his head; helpless, needy, and vulnerable, just like he said. Based on your reactions, he could tell you were turned on by something and Harry was sure to crack you. He’s been waiting for this moment for a long time. Now, all he has to do is not fuck up.

He imagines you squirming underneath him as he rubs your clit, desperate for relief and freedom from the confinements.

“Harry!” You called out, but it was hopeless. You could hear him in the shower, taunting you. Your mind went straight to the image of his naked body and pictured it above you. You’ve never even seen him fully naked, but just the thought of it aroused you even more.

His strokes became faster as you shouted, rubbing his thumb over his leaking slit. In his mind, he translated them as moans of his name, which motivated him to pump brisker.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He groaned loud, for once hoping you heard him.

His balls tighten as another fantasy explores his mind: you on your knees, cuffs behind your back, as you suck his cock. Your eyes peering up at him innocently with tears brimming your ducts would send him into a lustful frenzy. He moaned noisily, his sounds bouncing off the tiled walls and down the hall.

You could hear everything. Including the way his name groggily fell from his lips in that sultry voice you only heard in dreams. Your panties dampened with each loud groan, forcing you to bend your knees toward your chest and rub them together to stop the nearly painful ache.

It was so unfair.

“I’m gonna come, angel,” He nearly whined as his palm slammed on the shower wall, fist pumping fiercely to reach his orgasm. The name slipped from his mouth, but it fit you perfectly.

A small whimper elicited from your lips at his noises, your legs crossing together in agony. You controlled yourself to not roll your hips in the air, because that was rock-bottom level pathetic, no matter how badly you needed him. This was torture.

His knees nearly buckled when his orgasm hit him hard, his balls squeezing and shaft twitching. Spurts of his release paint the walls that are soon washed away by the water as he calms himself down. With breathy sounds and dazed movements, he completes the rest of his shower before turning the water off and wrapping a towel around his waist.

He barely wastes time drying off before waltzing back into your room. Staring at your helpless figure caused a familiar ache in his cock, even though he just had an orgasm. He was insatiable when it came to you apparently.

Your eyes shot daggers at Harry, freshly showered and smelling like some woodsy soap that only reminded you of him. A white towel hung low around his waist and water droplets stuck to his body like he was straight out of a rom-com film. The burning in your lower belly and the pulsing between your legs never ceased. Your chest was rising quicker than it should have for being chained to the bed.

“Something you want to say?” Harry taunted with that smug smirk plastered on his face, slowly padding towards your bed.

His eyes pierced into yours, trying to force you into admitting. He sat on the edge of your bed beside your bare legs with the towel daring to slip off. Your head told you to not fall for his longing gaze while your body begged you to submit.

Your logic could only take you so far with the overpowerment of your body.

“No,” You replied with clenched teeth.

“No?”

He brought his hand to smooth over your shins, firing bolts of electricity straight to your clit. You involuntarily squeezed your thighs again to dull the ache, and you hated yourself for how obvious your arousal was. Harry slightly tilted his head condescendingly innocent, waiting for your response. But you tightly bit your bottom lip, refusing to say another word. You didn’t trust your next breath because if he kept touching you, you’d moan from just his hands on your knees.

“Hypothetically,” You didn’t like where this was going. It was scary, out-of-the-friend-zone territory. “If I were to check, you’re saying you wouldn’t be wet at all?”

You bit on your tongue. Hard. Harry shouldn’t be allowed to say the word “wet” in his deep, post-orgasm voice. When he touches you, you shouldn’t cave so easily.

Why did you have to like him? Your best friend and your roommate? That’s setting yourself up for failure.

Being the stubborn person that you are, you still continued to play snarky, even if you were soaking so much in your panties that you might be leaking through your shorts. “Not a single drop.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I jus’ took a look, right? I know you jus’ love being right,” His hands rub along your legs until they’re on your knees and lower thighs.

He’s not wrong, and you hate that. Why does he have to make everything so difficult? He could simply just unlock the cuffs and go back into his room like nothing happened. So why is he making such a big deal about it? Unless he…no way.

“Go right ahead,” You tried to sound confident, but you squeaked, heart beating rapidly. Did he want this as much as you?

A sly smirk creeps onto his lips as his palms snake higher up your legs until they’re at the hem of your shorts. Your breath hitches in your throat, too afraid to make any noise because it might betray you. How does one act unaffected when they are very much affected?

“Gonna take these off now,” He narrates, and then slowly slides off your shorts. You didn’t breathe, just watched it happen. Your heart was running a marathon in your chest, and you thought you might go into cardiac arrest. With your shorts now on the floor, your legs remain closed. You know that the second you open them you will be proven wrong.

Harry’s fingers sneak in between your thighs and practically pry them open, your right leg hanging off the bed. You gasp at the sudden vulnerability and sharply turn your head in embarrassment. You can feel his smirk and piercing eyes burn into your skin screaming “told you so” while he tsks, but he doesn’t openly say it. He caresses your upper thighs, so close to your panty line.

“Aw,” He says patronizingly when his hands pinch the sensitive skin of your thighs, causing you to subtly roll your hips toward him with a small yelp. “Helpless and needy.”

“Harry,” You tried to sound threatening, but it was breathy and quiet. “We…can’t.”

“Why not?” His reply was instant, almost too fast for you to register. His hand gripped your thigh, making you whimper shyly. You didn’t have a valid reason why you couldn’t.

The worst thing that would happen is that you would fall in love with him and he would leave you in the dust, just like every other one of his hook-ups. You didn’t want to be that to Harry. If you two did this, would everything you guys have built as friends just go to waste? Would you have to move out and find a new place?

“I don’t just want to be another one of your hook-ups. When I have sex, it means something to me,” Why did you always have to make it so difficult? God, you’ve wanted him for the longest time and you’re saying this? He’s just going to run away. He doesn’t want to deal with this shit.

“Y/N, I promise you’re not jus’ another one of those girls. If you knew what I was thinkin’...”

“What are you thinking?” You whispered. His fingers trail up to your panties and tickle the area of your mound. You gasp, as the pad of his thumb presses to your clit. It pulses and throbs beneath him, begging to be touched without the barrier of the thin fabric.

“Want to feel you wrapped ‘round me while I’m deep inside of you,” He informed gravely, eyes concentrated on his own fingers. You whimper again, pushing your hips into his touch. “Want to hear your sweet noises.”

“Oh,” You bite your lip harshly.

“Want to kiss you. Everywhere. Want to wake up and see you next to me. Want to come home to you in my bed, in my clothes.”

“Harry,” This time, his name fell from your lips as a delicate moan, endeared by his words. Your mind becomes hazy from everything; his touch, his voice, his words. You only need one thing now. “Please.”

That’s all he needed. He gradually slips off your panties until they’re joining your shorts on the floor. The air breezes over your drenched cunt, contrasting the burning of your skin. His thumb rubs over your bundle of nerves again, but this time you mewl at the bare contact.

“You’re soaked, angel,” Voice rough and deep, he grunts as his middle finger teases your wet folds. You buck into his hand, desperate for more. Harry’s lips curl into that familiar smirk before he slips his finger inside.

You moan noisily, not trying to remain quiet anymore. You didn’t care. His digit runs deep, nudging your G-spot. The deeper he went, the more your folds could feel his icy cold ring. You panted and wheezed embarrassingly when he slipped his ring finger inside. He pumps torturing slowly, making it possible for you to feel every detail of his skin sliding in and out of you. Your eyes roll back while your hips squirm under him. He glides his opposite hand beneath your T-shirt, thumbs caressing the underside of your breast.

“Harry, fuck,” Your stomach burned. Actually, everything burned. Your wrists struggled against the metal. Your muscles coiled tightly, alerting you that you were getting close. You weren’t surprised that he had you on the brink of an orgasm in a matter of a few minutes.

“Am I making you feel good, angel?” Lustful and sensual, Harry began to pump faster, realizing you were close. Your back arched toward him, seeking to be closer. You wanted to be melting into his skin because you were so attached to him.

“So good, H. I’m close,” You mewled as his thumb brushed over your pebbled nipple. He multi-tasked; his index finger and thumb twisted your aching nipple while his other hand curled deliciously inside of you. Your walls squeezed his digits and your legs began to spasm at the overwhelming sensations.

Not a second later, you felt a wave of relief flush over your body. Your heart thumped rapidly against your ribs and your face scrunched in undeniable pleasure. Harry’s movements slowed as he helped you ride out your unforgettable orgasm.

“You’re so pretty when you come, baby,” Harry compliments, still caressing your breast. You wearily smile, heat burning your skin from his words. He raises his fingers up to his own mouth and licks away your release. For some reason, you opened your mouth thinking he was going to put them in yours.

His eyebrows raise and that cocky smirk comes back before he’s laying his damp digits on your tongue. You suck, swirling your tongue erotically as he barely moves them. Your glossy eyes remain locked on his, never looking away.

“Fuck,” He mumbles before yanking them out of your mouth. His cock twitches impatiently under the towel, neglected. “Dirty girl, huh?” It was your turn to smirk now.

“Need to be inside of you,” He removes the towel and you nearly faint right there. Long and thick, his cock was pink and pulsing at the tip. Precum oozed from his slit and you had the urge to put him in your mouth just like his fingers had been. Harry’s eyes looked at you like he was hungry, and if he didn’t have you he would starve.

“H, what the hell,” You wheezed as he spread your legs wider apart and stroked his painful erection with his palm.

“What?” He questions, hissing as he looks at your soaking pussy again. He never wants to forget the sight of you fucking drenched for him. He’s wanted this too long and too much for this to be a simple one-time thing.

He knows that the second he enters you, you are his. No one else’s. He’s going to ruin you for every other man.

“You’re… huge. Where have you been hiding that thing?” Panting, you start to get nervous. Everything becomes so real. This wasn’t a part of your imagination or some fantasy you conjured up. Harry was really in front of you, and he just gave you a mind-blowing orgasm.

You force yourself to get out of your head and live in the moment for once.

Harry chuckles hoarsely, and leads his tip towards your entrance. His body hovers over yours, face cradling in your neck. “Fuck, my condoms are in my room–”

“I’m on birth control.”

“I–are y’sure? About this, I mean.”

“I’ve never been more ready,” You smile at him endearingly. If your hands were free, you would have stroked his cheek.

“And I’ve also never been so impatient–” Cutting you off, Harry finally slides into you a couple of inches. You both share a string of groans and moans at the completely bare contact. You were more snug around Harry than he’d imagined—he thought he was going to come on the spot. He’s barely halfway in and you already feel a stretch.

More arousal leaks from you while your walls throb around him. His lips press into the skin of your neck and you inhale that woodsy scent again like flavored oxygen. Like you need it to live. His damp hair tickles your neck while your chest moves rapidly with the beat of your heart. You wish you could lace your hands through it.

“I need you to move, H,” You whisper, so quietly that if he wasn’t so close to you he probably wouldn’t have heard.

Obeying your request, he pulls out almost all the way before sinking back into you. Most of his length is in you as he pumps leisurely. Harry grits his teeth as your walls flutter around him, clutching him like a goddamn vice. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want to ruin this by going too hard. He wants to savor this moment forever. He repeats the action a few times before you get frustratingly impatient.

“Harry, I need more. Please,” Your words of plead cause him to screw his eyes shut.

“I don’t want to hurt you, angel.”

“Big ego you got there,” You roll your eyes as you rock your hips towards his. “Fuck me like you hate me. Please.”

A wavering sigh falls from his lips before he yanks himself completely out of you. You thought for a moment that you scared him off, but then, his cock slams back into you. An echoing moan bounces off the walls of the room while he pounds roughly.

His pace is brutal and concentrated, the head of his dick repeatedly hitting that sensitive spot inside of you. Your pussy clenches him, never wanting to let him go. Harry bucks his hips, ramming into your cunt at a new angle. Out of instinct, you go to move your hands to touch him, but are painfully reminded that you can’t.

“I want to touch you,” You plead, thrashing your wrists within the metal cuffs.

“No,” Grunting, he thrusted impossibly deeper–he practically melted into you.

You groan while he lifts up your left leg to shift it. He moves strategically and briskly, his thrusts never falting. Your eyes spin to the back of your head while the world around you seems to fade away. The only things that existed were you and Harry. But even in this moment, you two felt like you were one. When his lips began littering soft, pinched kisses on your neck, you thought you were going to lose it.

“Oh my God, Harry,” You sighed, hazy in bliss. Every ridge and vein of his cock could be felt through each hearty thrust. His noises varied from deep growls and soft moans, and you swear with just his sounds you teetered closer to your second orgasm.

“So fuckin’ tight, angel,” His breath fanned over your neck that was being covered in his love bites. The noises that fell from your lips were uncontrollable; you didn’t care if your neighbors could hear and you didn’t care if they would send a complaint the next day.

“Kiss me, H,” He didn’t hesitate to listen. After months of waiting, his lips finally collided with yours.

Interlocking, your lips molded together like the perfect experiment. Your chemistry bubbled up and created a flame the color of ecstasy. A firework of emotions burst all around you. He never halts his movements, pumping barbarically in and out while his tongue explores your mouth. To kill you even more, his free hand slips down in between you both and rubs your throbbing clit with a brutal pace.

How does he know how, when, and where to hit?

You become overwhelmed with feeling; everything was so pleasant and blissful, even if the scene was unbelievably dirty, it just aroused you more. Even if it was too much, you somehow couldn’t get enough.

He mumbles profanities as you squeeze his shaft firmly because that familiar wave was so close. Just a few more thrusts…

“Killin’ me every time you do that, baby.”

“I’m gonna come. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” As you spoke, your muscles tightened and your legs wrapped around his torso, forcing him lower inside. He groans as you clenched around him again, orgasm finally releasing from you. Broken moans echo throughout the room as your high causes you to feel floaty. Your heart thumps in euphoria and overwhelming affection. Surrounded in a cloud of rapture, the only thing on your mind was to have him come inside of you.

Luckily, he wasn’t far behind. As he attempts to pull out, about to come, you whine and beg him to stay.

“Want me to come in you, hm? Who knew you were so dirty,” He taunts and you hum in response, simply just feeling him as you ride out your high. “Gonna be the death of me, angel.”

You jerked your hips forward, sensitive and squirmy, as his cock twitches. Before you know it, Harry is coating your walls with his release. Your eyes roll back for the hundredth time tonight, savoring the sensation of his ropes of cum. His heart pounds quickly like a galloping horse, still in denial of everything that just occurred.

Everything felt so surreal, you were positive that Harry had sent you into an oblivion. His strokes become sloppy as he tucks every last drop into your cunt, just like you wanted.

“H…” You don’t even know what to say. You were speechless. Harry literally fucked the words out of you.

“Are you okay?” Was his first question, his first words to you in the aftermath. Your heart swells for some odd reason, even though that is the bare minimum.

“Yes,” Was the only thing you could say in response. In a moment, you came to the realization that the bottom half of your body was naked. Your muscles jittered as you close your legs, covered in wetness.

“Y/N, I…” He wanted to tell you everything. Right now. There was no better moment than right now to tell you everything. Right?

But how does he say it?

You knew Harry was about to say something sentimental or serious. You knew when he was about to say something meaningful that it took him time to find the right words. That was one of the things you found most endearing and adorable about him. His next words were either going to break your heart or make you want to have sex again. Either way, you might cry.

“I feel fuckin’ stupid,” Okay, those were not the meaningful words you expected to come out of his mouth. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “I feel fuckin’ stupid for you. Do y’know how hard it is to live with someone you feel so strongly about? It’s bloody crazy. You drive me insane, Y/N. I’ve waited so long for this thinking that if I had you once it would be enough. But I like you too much for this to be a one-time thing. I need more than this. I need you.”

Your mouth was wide open, shoulders slouching with your arms hanging. You were positive your arms had fallen asleep with the amount of time they’ve been hanging, but your heart was too full to care. That organ in your chest inflated with the admission he spoke. Those words might not have been as heartwarming or movie-like to other people, but to you, there was a strong, heartfelt passion that was real and true. You were surprised he cracked first. You surely thought it would be you.

“Harry, I–”

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand–”

“Goddamnit, Harry! Take these cuffs off of me so I can kiss you, you doof!”

—

i thought this was only going to be 2k, so you’re welcome <3

tags: @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle @bisexual-desi @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

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btsgotjams27 · 1 year ago

Text

the back-up plan | jjk ~ teaser

summary: one drunken night leads to an agreement that if you and jungkook are still single by 30, you'd marry each other. the only thing is jungkook has been doing everything he can to keep you single.

💖 title: the backup plan | one-shot 💖 pairing: jungkook x f!reader | 💖 genre/au: romance, fluff / friends to lovers(?) 💖 rating: SFW | 18+ | 💖 teaser wc: 525 💖 fic warnings: jungkook & reader are both 29, jungkook is bad at feelings and tells some terrible lies, hot and seggsy neighbor!namjoon (yes, pls), kissing, hand-holding (more to add) 💖 teaser warnings: language 💖 a/n: this fic is coming!! i just don't know when it'll be done, but here's a lil teaser for you. 💖 09/13/23 ~ the fic is out hehe !!

You let out a cackle. “Oh shit–I agreed to that?”

Jungkook pouts and nods. “Sure did.”

But Jungkook’s messing around, right? He was being a good friend and comforting you in your time of need. There’s no way he’d actually want to spend the rest of his life with you. Plenty of suitable women were fawning over him, and now you’ve come to notice, you've never seen him with a girlfriend.

“You’re–you’re not serious, are you?” You stumble over your words, going into panic mode.

Why would Jeon Jungkook choose you, of all people, to want to marry? He could have anyone at any time.

No, you shook off the thought. You couldn’t lock him into a loveless marriage.

Jungkook licks his lips, his tongue flicking his lip ring back and forth.

You shifted in bed and cleared your throat. “Aren’t you seeing that one girl?”

It wasn’t hard to notice when she practically hung onto him like a lovesick puppy.

Jungkook makes a face, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s nothing serious.”

You give him a blank expression. “Nothing serious? Kook, she’s practically foaming at the mouth and shooting heart eyes when you’re around.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That could be you, too.”

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him.

“Just saying,” he adds.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to get in the way if it is serious.” You surely didn’t want to become a homewrecker.

He waves his hand. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t back down from promises I make.”

Your lips turn into a pout, and you tilt your head, wondering why he’d ditch Clingy Chloe and commit to a drunken promise. “What’s in it for you?”

He seems offended by your question, so he scoffs. “I mean, I’m just trying to save you from a future where you’re an old lady with 50 cats, collecting newspapers that pile up from the floor to the ceiling, then you show up on an episode of Hoarders.”

You chuckle. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“You’re not?” he questions hesitantly.

“I mean, marriage is a pretty serious thing, and we’re friends getting married because we have no one else?” The sentiment seems ridiculous once you say it aloud.

“What? You don’t think I'll be a good husband?”

“No, I didn't say that. I think you’d be a great one, actually.”

“Then, what’s the problem? Don’t think you can handle me?” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes at your cocky friend. “I don’t know, Kook. What if I meet someone, or what if you meet someone?”

“You don’t think I can make you fall in love with me?” he asks, completely ignoring your question.

Your nose scrunches, and you laugh. “No.”

“Oh, well, that sounds like a challenge, and you’re lucky I love a little competition.”

He’s not going to let this go, is he?

You settle into the plush of your pillows. “Okay–tell you what, if you can make me fall in love with you within the week, I’ll consider marrying you.”

What would you have to lose? Being wined and dined by a cute guy? What girl would pass up this opportunity?

“Deal.”

09/13/23 ~ check out the fic here !!

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook romance #jungkook wip

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lumiconic · 2 years ago

Text

" first kisses "

✧ kunikuzushi, shikanoin heizou, yae miko, childe, collei, albedo ; fluff ; 5.6k words

✧ collei ended up being way longer than the others haha

kunikuzushi has voiced his discomfort with touch many times, when you took his hand in the darkness of an underground cave, or patted him on the back after he negotiated out of a sticky situation, and every time you let go instantly without question, and didn’t touch him again for days and days. and yet now, he finds himself longing for the caress of your hand, wondering what it would feel like to kiss you.

it’s a bit troubling, and he crushes the instinct every time, but it always comes back, wandering into his mind at the worst of times; in the midst of battle, you spin after lancing a treasure hoarder through the chest, and all he can think is how beautifully a spray of blood frames your face, leaving him motionless in the air for a moment, just enough time to be slammed to the ground, skidding through the dirt with the wind knocked out of him.

you shout his name, panic lacing through your tone, and he curses himself for his stupidity as you spin a flurry of blows against his attacker before rushing to his side. he struggles to a sitting position, wincing as he fights to draw air in. how could he do something so dumb? to be distracted by you of all things while fighting? you, that stupid [name] who is so – who is nothing more than a hindrance, but –

and then he’s struck dumb again as you kneel over him, inspecting for wounds without touching his skin even for a second. he wants to run his hand through the strands of your hair, left in a messy state and hanging softly around your jaw. you locate a bruise on his leg and dig for a salve in your pocket, unscrewing the top and handing it to him.

“jeez, what the hell was that?” you say, affection and irritation mixing in your voice. “how’d you get so unfocused, huh? we’re in the middle of a fight! you can’t just drift off like that and leave yourself open.”

the words wildfire frustration through his blood, anger that he can’t explain. how dare you act annoyed by his mistake when you caused it in the first place? “it’s your own damn fault,” he spits, voice more venomous than usual. he regrets it when your eyes widen and you look almost hurt, then confused. “wait, what? what did i do?”

what did you do? he repeats the question in his mind. it’s more like – it’s just, it’s what you won’t do that’s driving him insane, and how you don’t even notice – how can you be so oblivious to his internal dilemma? the way he looks at you, even he knows it’s so far beyond the sharp rivalry you enjoy, or even friendship.

"you – i got distracted by you,” he says, and hates the way his voice cracks, hates how your face softens when you hear it. “because your face is – it’s – ” so unfairly pretty “ – so – so ugly, and – ” he can feel his blazing red blush raising. “ – and i couldn’t focus, damn it!” he finishes. “so change how you look or – or just shut up about it.”

you look shocked for a moment, and then understanding appears on your face, the kind that makes him even more angry for reasons he can’t explain even to himself, and you half smile at him, hesitating for a moment before tucking a flyaway strand of dark hair behind his ear. he flinches away from the sudden touch and you jerk your hand back, mouth already opening, but then –

then he catches your wrist, holding it where it is. and you both sit there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. your eyes, that are full of feeling and thought and human emotion, and he can only imagine that you see your reflection in his own fathomless irises, as cold and empty as a puppet’s black button eyes.

“kuni,” you say in a hushed voice. he can feel the pulse of your wrist, quick as a rabbit’s, and his own breathing is suddenly coming fast and shallow. the moment stretches out, some expression of surprise and hostility frozen on his face, and yet he can feel his own yearning. the pain in his chest as his eyes flick down to your lips. you swallow, tilting your head to catch his gaze. his face flames even brighter, but there is no mockery or judgement in your expression; just a soft, understanding longing.

“can i kiss you?” you ask softly, and his heart is in his throat, fear that mingles with aching, and there is nothing in the world he wants more in this moment than you. before he can think twice he gives a quick, tiny nod.

you move closer, and he smells your gentle, clean scent that reminds him of rain or orange blossoms; the smell that curls through his dreams, and he has a second to think you even smell pretty, before you press your lips to his, and then he’s not thinking anything at all but there is a drifting, incoherent feeling of plain, serene happiness that he has not felt in a long time.

shikanoin heizou has kissed people before; he’s kissed lots of people, more than he thinks is socially acceptable. he’s kissed most everyone he wants to. almost nobody can stand up to the full power of his charm and charisma, with his boyish good looks and the boundless intelligence behind his jade green eyes; sometimes just a single wink can do the trick.

kissing is entertaining, for him, there’s no deeper emotion behind it. just something to do when you want to have some fun. he’s flirtatious, and maybe irresponsible, but it doesn’t cause anyone any harm, these shallow feelings that entwine with his playful, immature desire. he’s never wanted someone before. never felt a deeper pull than the one in the moment that can be satisfied with just a moment of contact.

until now; until he met you; and now he is consumed by the dream of what your lips feel like. you are elusive, and enigmatic, and the most beautiful person he has ever met, with soft and sweetly knowing eyes that are earnest and yet unreadable to him in a way that no one he’s met has been before. it’s a foreign feeling, this yearning, and he wonders with a twinge of guilt whether he has taken this role for another person before with his casual inclination to flirt.

he’s sitting beside you, leaning against a tree with his elbows balanced on his knees. you’re toying absentmindedly with a flower, tearing the petals off one by one, and his gaze is determinedly on the sky and not the way the light glints on your long eyelashes.

“do you think you’re a good kisser?” you ask suddenly, eyes still fixed on the flower as you open your palm and watch the soft petals flutter away in a breeze. his gaze flicks to you, and he’s taken off guard, but only for a moment. “depends on your definition of good,” he says evenly. “i’ve had a lot of practice.”

you laugh so hard you have to steady yourself, and it wounds his pride just a bit. he can’t tell if you’re making fun of him. you take a deep breath and then smile at him, eyes sparkling with some private joke.

“i’ve heard,” you say. “you’ve got no shortage of admirers here in inazuma, huh?”

“or anywhere.” he gives a small bow, and you laugh again. the sound sends a burst of satisfaction through him; a tiny victory, maybe. he always feels as though he’s accomplished something meaningful by making you laugh.

you go silent, looking at him with a small grin that is, as always, indecipherable. he shudders as a tiny gust spirals up his spine, but keeps his eyes on you, trying to maintain his composure.

“what about you?” he questions, balancing his head on his hand, in as even and cool a voice as he can manage. “are you a good kisser, [name]?”

your smile grows. “good enough,” you reply easily, stretching out your legs and yawning. “probably better than you. why? do you wanna find out?”

he swallows. his palms are slick with sweat, and he clenches his fingers into fists, taking a beat before he opens his mouth. you watch him without a word, looking more serious than you did before.

“yeah,” he answers. his voice is hoarse, but the easiness of the word is almost surprising. after everything, it was this easy? if he had known that – that the key to gaining this opportunity was simply to flirt like he did with so many others – ?

but no. you are different, somehow, almost off limits unless you initiated the interaction. he wants nothing less than to overstep with you.

he repeats his assent, clearing his throat, and your eyes light up, sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. you lean in, and he closes his eyes, and –

and, your kiss sends him dizzy; you taste like the sweetest strawberries in the height of summer, and your lips are softer than he could have imagined. for that moment, there is nothing more than you and him in the world. he could float away on this high, like dandelions on the wind.

you pull away first, and he fails to steady himself for a moment, face flushed with surprise and heat. you’re really so lovely, he thinks, barely able to put together that one clear thought; your face is knowing, and your mouth still slightly open. you swipe your thumb across your lip.

“i – ” he stammers. you smirk, tilting your head, and he swallows. “i’m definitely a better kisser than y-you,” he says, trying to regain his posture, but with you so close, your eyelashes nearly brushing his cheek, he can barely think straight, let alone speak with his normal wit and charm.

you roll your eyes at his attempt to recover. “you still think so?” there is laughter in your voice, mocking but not quite malicious. he nods, wiping the back of his hand across his face, and opens his mouth again – only to be silenced with a second kiss.

maybe … maybe, you actually are better than him, he reflects silently as you cup his face, deepening the kiss. not that he really has a problem with that.

yae miko wears the same teasing smirk every time you see her at the shrine, a smugly knowing expression of pure superiority that both irritates and captivates you. she takes every opportunity to demonstrate the sheer amount of knowledge she possesses over you, reveling in the way she’s able to shut you down with only a few words, then covering her mouth and laughing daintily, eyes crinkling with mirth as you scowl.

of course, you can’t be entirely displeased with your situation, as she does instruct you properly in what to do. you know that there are many who would give their right arm to be in your place working underneath her, and indeed you do have a prestigious position as one of the attendants at the shrine. but she seems to enjoy exerting her power and intelligence a bit too much.

you can’t decide whether you’re flattered or just plain annoyed by the attention she pays you, the way she seems to delight in your crestfallen face as she clicks her tongue, shaking her head with a mix of condescension and disappointment that paints her in melancholy, but the sparkle in her dusky purple eyes gives her away.

this time is no different; after waking up late, then sprinting as fast as you could from your small house in the countryside, then climbing the enormous mountain as quickly as you could to reach the shrine, you’re suffering through yet another lecture for the mistake you made while your head was still clouded with sleepy panic. you deserve it, technically, but – extenuating circumstances don’t seem to matter at all to her.

“ah, [name], yet again you’ve brought the wrong talismans,” she says, tilting her head and cupping her cheek. “goodness, how many times will it take you to collect the correct ones? you’re acting shockingly unexperienced. i’m starting to wonder whether it isn’t on purpose. do you really value your job so little? if that’s the case, i may have to replace you … ”

you can practically hear her honeyed laughter as you stare at her, pink lips quirked into a secretive half smile. you look away, then back, sinking into a deep bow and keeping your eyes squarely on the ground so she can’t see the anger bubbling in them.

“please, lady guuji, i’m sincerely sorry for my mistake,” you utter in as apologetic a tone as you can muster. “i promise on threat of losing my job that it won’t happen again. this morning was especially hectic, and i’m very sorry for it.”

her eyes brighten and she nods, gesturing you up. you raise your head, expression steady, but there’s still a hint of frustration that must show, because her gaze grows a bit darker with displeasure. you brace yourself for another apology, but when she speaks she almost sounds saddened.

“oh dear, you look so troubled.” she closes her eyes, shaking her head. “you know i’m only hard on you because i care, right … ?” her voice is soft, and she twirls a lock of hair around her finger as she talks, “i know it must be frustrating having to hear my criticism all the time, but it’s not for no reason. i simply want to see you succeed, and i do believe you can achieve great things … with my help.”

you’re shocked by what she’s saying; she’s never praised you or offered any genuinely encouraging words before, and her tone is nothing short of caring. you can almost accept her words as genuine, if not for the teasing glint still in her eyes. “okay,” you say quietly.

she blinks. “[name]!” there is some blend of hurt and shock in her voice. “you don’t believe me?” you stay silent, which is apparently enough of an answer for her, and she presses one hand to her chest. “my goodness, have you thought i simply disliked you this entire time?”

she looks genuinely disturbed and wounded for a moment at your silence, and then – smooth as silk, it melts into a knowing smile.

“you must know that’s not the truth,” she almost purrs, taking a step closer. “i have nothing but appreciation for your hard work, and hold you in high regard … truly, it’s so hard for me to believe that you were of such an outlandish opinion.”

you open your mouth, but she presses one finger against your lips. heat rushes to your face from the contact. her eyes gleam. “really, i don’t understand how it could have turned out like that with all of the special attention i pay you … maybe i should have been more forward from the beginning, hmm?”

she leans in and kisses you, and your eyes fly wide open with surprise before closing as she presses closer. her eyelashes are long and tickling your cheek. her mouth is so soft. she tastes like – like some archaic tea blend, the gentlest sweetness and bitterly fierce at the same time, and you’re so shocked she’s kissing you that you can’t even think straight.

and then it’s over, as suddenly as it began; a spark flicks over your lips as she pulls back, one delicate hand on her chest and giggling softly at your dumbstruck expression. you touch your mouth, and she laughs harder at the disbelief on your face.

“oh, [name] … such a naïve and unexperienced cutie,” she says, and this time hearing your name on her tongue and her calling you unexperienced sends not vexation but a shock of excitement down your spine.

childe keeps his affection for you no secret. he never has; somehow, he missed the memo to be cagey and quiet about his feelings, and instead every person in the nation of liyue (and probably beyond) knows about his “love”, as he calls it, “for beautiful and elegant [name], for whom i would buy everything in the harbor just to win a single smile from their pretty face.” you have a suspicion that tonia is writing scripts for him.

he is everything but quiet, loud and brash and bold in everything he does. to you, he is shining and happy and gleeful, always laughing and offering you things, endlessly smiling. you have never seen that expression leave his face once; he is a shallow man to you, nothing but a flatterer with all glitter and no substance. you have never felt anything romantic towards him, but he continues trying.

you’re picking sweet flowers and jueyun chilis one day, shrouded in autumn’s gold and amber leaves, but the cover of the trees does not shield you from the sight of approaching fatui agents. one brandishes a knife, flickering in and out of sight, and another holds a cannon. both are outfitted in armor, while you have no weapon or protection.

“w-what do you want?” you stammer, holding up your hands defensively. the man with the knife’s red eyes glimmer. “pay your dues,” he snarls, and advances closer with swift movements.

you hold nothing but flowers, and your heart is thrumming in your ears as flame licks at your feet and arms, causing you to wince with pain. you’re caught, you don’t have any money, and there’s nowhere to run.

and then, he appears; red half-cape thing you’ve mocked so many times billowing in unseen wind, his eyes glowing menacingly. for a moment, you’re afraid of him, but his face softens when he sees you, nodding as if to say he’ll handle it, and an unfamiliar feeling of relief rushes through you. then he turns his attention on the fatui, expression hardening back into anger.

"what is going on here?” he says, voice thundering with barely restrained fury. the fatui go silent and still at the sight of him, a fact that confuses and almost scares you, but you’re too busy scrambling behind him to think about it. the fatui drop to their knees. “lord tartaglia,” the hydrogunner says mechanically, “we were simply collecting mora from this citizen – ”

he sweeps his hand, and the man instantly is quiet.

“leave, now,” he says. the fatui protest for a moment, but he flicks his wrist and a long blade made from glimmering blue water appears in his grasp. he spins it casually, with deadly skill, and says, “do you really want to test your skills against me? this is an order. i won’t ask again.”

the fatui go silent, then bow and vanish simultaneously, and you both release a breath. almost immediately, his threatening aura is gone. your heart is still pounding.

“[name],” he starts, turning and rubbing a hand down his face. “are you alr – ”

you cut him off by throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him; he makes some startled, half muffled noise and you have to choke back a laugh. once he recovers his balance, he leans into it, with the easy confidence you would have expected from him, and yet … something about him is holding back; you can feel it in the grasp he takes on your hips as you cling to him, his hold light and ready to let go at any time.

when you pull away, he’s smiling with a tense mix of giddiness and anxiety. you’re suddenly struck with self consciousness, looking away and tucking your hair behind your ear. you can’t believe you just did that. he rescued you, in a way, and it felt like – for the first time, you were seeing him as more than just a bored friend with too much free time. like he actually cared about you. like you meant something to him, something important.

“does this mean you – ” he says. his voice cracks just a bit and he cuts himself off. you cross your arms over your chest, managing to keep your expression even, and thankful that your hair covers the sides of your head; you can feel fluster coloring your ears bright red. “it means whatever i say it means.”

“so? what do you say it means?” he asks, meeting your eyes with a rueful look on his face. there is some measure of resignation there, something that says i know how you’re going to answer, and you decide to prove him wrong.

“it means i like you, moron,” you say before you can hesitate, and as his eyes – blue as the sea, and empty as its cavernous depths, but archons they really are beautiful – widen you pull him into a hug and bury your face in his shoulder, still trembling slightly from the stress of the encounter.

he says your name, and somehow this time it carries weight behind it in a way it never did before. but you only close your eyes, taking in his scent, a mixture of dried flowers and ocean spray, that you never found comforting until now; now, you hope you’ll never leave the embrace of his arms, and something about the way he holds you makes you think if that was what you wished, you could stay like this forever.

collei has bright, sparkly eyes, the color of amethysts; she has a smile that appears on her rosebud mouth with the grace and loveliness of a blooming flower, and a voice like a sweet, chirpy dove. she is pretty; even beautiful, but – you could never say it, not to her or anyone else. maybe it’s the trust in those shining eyes when she looks at you. or the way she grabs your palm, her hands warm, as she pulls you to the newest patch of blossoming florets.

it’s like she’s sure of the fact that there is no secret in the world you hold from her, even though this one – your heart pounding when you hear her laugh – is the biggest you could be possibly hiding. you won’t tell her, you swear to yourself, that you love her, because that’s what it is, really. it’s love, plain and simple. you won’t tell her, because she’s too good for you and she’d never reciprocate.

but this furious heartache, leaving you staring into space to dry out tears, is – well. it’s far from pleasant, but as long as you keep seeing her smile, you …

“you’re zoning out again,” she scolds, waving her hand in front of your face. you startle, blinking, then bow your head and apologize sheepishly as her disgruntled expression comes into focus. “ah, sorry collei, i was just … thinking.”

“i’ll give you something to think about,” she giggles, irritation replaced by excitement. “how ‘bout that?” she points at the sky, and you look up at the gathering grayish blue storm clouds. “we’ve got a rainstorm rolling in!”

she loves bad weather and rain for some reason you’ve never understood. you wrinkle your nose, pointing out it’s monsoon season. the storms can flood through entire sections of the forest; if you stay on low ground where you are, the two of you could be drowned.

“we’re too far from the village to turn back now, what should we do?”

she taps her chin, thinking. “let’s … let’s head to the deeper part of the rainforest and climb a tree, so we’re high off the ground and just wait it out.”

you salute, smiling at her quick thinking. “you’re the boss.”

in the time it takes you to reach the thicker sections of the rainforest and locate a suitable tree, the rain’s already started, seeping through your forest ranger’s clothing. she quickly constructs a makeshift umbrella out of thick leaves and sap, sliding it into the crook of two of the tree’s limbs. you watch her work, fast and capable; she really has grown from the childishly fumbling amateur she used to be. you take a seat underneath when it’s finished.

she sits cross legged, with her face tilted up to the sky, eyes closed as raindrops burst over her skin and slide down her cheeks. she looks peaceful and happy. you’re curled into yourself, the chilly rain soaking you to the bone, and are about to comment on her stoicism when her serenity is broken by a violent shudder.

instantly, you peel off your jacket and tuck it over her. “you’re gonna catch your death of cold if you don’t get under here,” you say, pulling her underneath the umbrella. she sputters, but her teeth are chattering hard enough to break up her words into staccato.

“b-b-but [name], you’re gonna be c-cold too if you don’t have your jacket,” she protests, but you shake your head. “you’re colder, plus you made the umbrella, so just take it, alright?”

she looks at you, eyes wide with such a cute expression – surprise, sincerity, gratefulness – you almost forget how to breathe. you look away and sit back against the tree, breathing slower, trying to preserve the heat you have left.

“i like you,” she says suddenly, and your heart practically stops.

your head snaps to her, seeking for the expression of apology for such a dumb joke, or maybe innocent thankfulness, saying thatin such a childlike way, but – no, what she’s displaying is sincere, real affection, her face colored with a red blush. your breath catches.

she sits forward, tucking your jacket tighter around her. “i mean – not to say something silly and unexpected, but i really – i really, really like you, [name],” she says, her tone sweet, shaky and genuine. “i-i can barely focus sometimes ‘cause i’m always thinking about you, and just now, you gave me your jacket, even though – ” she presses her fists to her face. “i can’t keep it a secret anymore, s-so – even if you don’t feel the same way, i – ”

what ... ? as if i never felt the same way? no -- i truly, always --

“no!” you interrupt. “i like you too! i … really do,” you say, trailing off into a whisper. “i’ve liked you for so long, i can’t believe you … ”

it’s quiet, then. neither of you says anything for a long moment.

“i-if we like each other, we’re supposed to kiss, right? i’ve never kissed someone before,” she whispers slowly, blushing furiously and stumbling. “can i … can we … ” her voice trails off and you wait, heart pounding in your ears. “can we … try it?”

you try to speak, and nothing happens at first, you’re so frozen with shock. you clear your throat, managing “really?” the word is awfully loud in the silence broken only by drumming rain, and she looks even more embarrassed, but nods anyway.

“okay,” you breathe. “okay. i … i’m gonna kiss you now, and – and if you don’t want me to, just say no, and i’ll – i’ll stop.” you wait for her to nod again. she’s trembling, and you can’t tell if it’s the cold or a nervous excitement. you have never seen her smile wider.

you lean in and press your lips to hers. you can hear your heartbeat, and maybe hers too; she smells like flowers, of course, and the kiss is a sugary, clumsy, chaste thing. but it’s her, it really is, and she is flawless. she always has been. so it’s perfect too. and when she pulls away, that’s what she whispers to you as she wraps her arms around your neck.

so that was the first kiss, awkward and new and genuine … and perfect; just like your beloved collei; and you can’t wait to kiss her again, and again, and again.

albedo has always been handsome, but lately his beauty – that’s the only word for it, really – has been nothing less than otherworldly. you’re far from the only person in mondstadt to admire him, as he’s quite traditionally attractive, and polite as well; though of course less savory rumors surround him as well. as the knights of favonius’ chief alchemist, there have been quite a few whispers of his eccentric side and his strange experiments.

this is far from a deterrent for you, however. you’re actually quite interested by his research and find it enjoyable to spend your time in his lab, helping out and simply accompanying him through his explorations of dragonspine. still, your intrigue in alchemy isn’t your only reason to partake in his studies, of course. no, not just his looks, either, but everything about him, really, from his habit of tugging on his gloves when he’s confused to the endearingly blank tone of his boyish voice.

but of course, that unfair loveliness is the first thing you always notice when you see him, and it doesn’t go away. it’s what keeps your eyes riveted to the strands of his fluffy hair, dusted in the last few moments of sunset and a light haze of wintery white snowfall as you sit beside him, clutching a cup of hot chocolate and trying to keep your body still against the biting cold of the mountain.

his bright blue eyes are relaxed for once in his life as he crosses his hands in his lap, staring up at the puffs of thick clouds against the rapidly dimming sky. he’s gorgeous, in a way that seems almost unreal, like he was sculpted from clay and brought to life as the perfect boy. you watch him in silence, affection crinkling the lines of your face into a wistful smile as the minutes pass.

“[name]?” he asks, turning, and you start. “uh – um, yeah?"

“what’s your type?” he says. your breath catches.

the question is almost innocuous, and yet his closeness, the slight blush across his face in the frostbitten landscape, has you shocked, your lips parting for a moment. his eyes flick to your mouth for just a second, then back up to your eyes, and – no, you must have imagined the way his cheeks grow just a shade darker pink.

“my type?”

“yes, sucrose has been telling me about romance, such as the oblivious and pining trope, and star crossed lovers,” he says serenely. “they seem to be very popular in mondstadt, i’ve seen many young women reading romance stories lately.”

oh, you think, with a mix of relief and disappointment, he only wanted to know for his data analysis, as usual. well, there’s really no harm in answering; he’s been so oblivious about your feelings, anyway, he probably wouldn’t even be able to pick up on what you were saying.

“smart guys,” you say honestly, “people who are straightforward with what they want, and they should be devoted too, to what i’m interested in, plus the relationship itself. though, none of it is as important as them being a caring and kind person.” you smile thoughtfully. “i never would have expected this from you of all people, albedo.”

“ah, sucrose said the same thing,” he says almost sheepishly, “but i thought it could be – ” he clears his throat, swallowing before he continues. “ – interesting, to … engage in this sort of thing more often. it’s more exciting than i would have thought.”

you try to ignore the skip your heart makes at this, and prop your head on your hand, forcing your voice to a nonchalant tone. “really? so, have you thought about it a lot? what’s your type?”

you know you don’t imagine it this time, his face blushing a bit redder, and it sends your heart into your throat and your pulse racing, though he keeps his balance and steady voice when he speaks after blinking slowly. despite yourself, you of course want to know his answer.

“people who show their feelings easily, and are willing to be patient,” he says, slowly, tapping his fingers on his knee. “and … i agree with you, that it’s important for them to care about my own pursuits. i think – it’s a sign of a good person who makes a dedicated effort towards partaking and showing interest in my work. someone who’s worth keeping.”

his voice – such a stupid thing to focus on, and yet – he sounds like it’s you that he means, there is some meaningful quality in his tone, as calm and collected as ever, and yet his voice is warm, like a beam of sunlight cutting through the shade cast by a thick forest of trees. he’s looking at you, with those eyes that are as blue as the sea, and you can barely breathe.

he leans closer. sunset has long passed by now, and the moon is gleaming bright in the velvet blue sky. the pale silver light throws his pretty features into shadowy definition, and when he kisses you, his gloved hand cupping your face, his lips are warm despite the cold; your eyes are closed, and yet all you see are stars.

#<3.writing #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi imagines #scaramouche imagines #albedo x reader #albedo imagines #heizou x reader #heizou imagines #yae miko x reader #yae miko imagines #collei x reader #collei imagines #childe x reader #childe imagines

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