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onlyswan · 6 months

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summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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dovesndecay · 2 years

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I swear I know how to read

#original post #ignore my initial responses because i was thinking about dennys way too hard #and got my colors mixed up #T_T

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euphorajeon · 1 year

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taste your whiskey kiss | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff (?) | college!au, boxer!jk

— word count: 1.2k

— warnings: long-haired, glasses-wearing jk, annoying jk, oc still wont admit that jk is hot, jk is supposed to be a cs student, making out, mention of oral sex (f. receiving), this is plotless honestly i just miss boxer!gguk T_T

— summary: long-haired jeongguk is a menace. long-haired, glasses-wearing jeongguk is even worse.

— author's note: boxer!gguk is back at last! sorry for the (again) weird summary though. i wrote this in one sitting after that YTC in Busan episode came out and jeongguk blessed us with him wearing glasses :))) anyways. hope you enjoy!

— tags: @dunixxd

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

“Glasses?”

You look up to accept the peck your boyfriend gives you as a greeting while he hums a confirmation, the object perched on his nose knocking against your nose lightly. It’s sled down his nose so much that he looks like a grandpa from your point of view.

“Since when do you wear glasses??”

“Since my mom decided that putting my eyes five centimeters from my computer screen is not good for my sight.” Jeongguk’s hand moves to his nose to adjust his glasses. “She said my codes would never work if I keep mistaking commas for periods.”

You let out a sigh as he takes a seat on his desk chair, his computer displaying lines upon lines of codes you’d never be able to understand.

“You could zoom in, you know, instead of doing a staring contest with the screen,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Jeongguk spins his chair around just to give you a one-eyebrow-raise.

“And where’s the fun in that?”

The playful smirk he sports afterwards makes you roll your eyes, not getting why your boyfriend enjoys flirting with danger like that.

“Besides, I can’t see the whole code if I zoom in. Hard to see where it went wrong.”

“Yeah, keep making excuses until you go blind,” you frown as you look at his eyes behind the round lenses. “I won’t help you if you run yourself into a pole.”

Jeongguk shakes his head in mock disappointment. “That’s harsh, babe.”

“That’s your reality if you keep damaging your eyes.”

“Why are you suddenly so hostile? It’s just a pair of glasses.” Jeongguk runs a hand through his long hair, visibly getting frustrated with your elevated emotions.

“I don’t know!” Oh, you do know. “Just— get back to your codes. We can talk about this later.”

“I have something else to do later,” your boyfriend bites back with just as much fervor. “But sure, I can spare some time to talk to you about my glasses.”

He turns back around in his chair and you’re left to stare at the black wavy hair that curls around his nape as he types away on the keyboard.

Despite your denial earlier, you know exactly what got you so worked up like this.

It’s the same thing you felt when Jeongguk first showed up on your doorstep with piercings and a tattoo sleeve, the same thing you felt when he provoked you in the gym, the same thing you felt when he dyed his hair to your favorite color.

You hide behind worrying for his wellbeing when all you want to do is scream how hot he is to his face.

It’s truly unfair how your boyfriend manages to look so hot even in something as simple as a pair of glasses. A pair of prescription glasses at that, too. That combined with the long hair that frames his handsome face perfectly might just be the death of you. It takes everything in you not to pull him away from his coding assignment to tug at his hair as you explore his mouth with your tongue.

Your mind is reeling thinking that all of this is just because one single pair of prescription glasses. And the hair too, you guess, but it’s not like you haven’t experienced what long-haired Jeongguk is like in bed. (He made sure you know that he was a menace a few weeks ago when his hair only reached a bit below his ears.)

By now, you should be immune to whatever shit he’s going to pull, yet here you are.

Half an hour pass before Jeongguk stops typing and lets out a sigh, turning his chair around to face you once again.

“I can’t focus when I know you’re upset with me.” His tone is curt, like you being upset is wasting his time. “So talk.”

“You’re the one who asked me to come, then you blame me when you can’t focus?” you scoff.

“Didn’t think you’d get upset over my fucking glasses.”

“You’re only wearing glasses because you’re too stupid to think that exposing your eyes to such short distance to your monitor is not gonna damage them! You’re the reason why I’m upset!”

“Oh really? Isn’t it because I look too hot in these glasses but you have too much pride to say it to my face?”

You force yourself to sound firm in your one-worded response. “No.”

“No? As in you don’t wanna make out with me right now and fog up my glasses?”

“N-no.”

You’re wavering. It’s over.

“Okay.” Jeongguk shrugs. “I want to make out with you.” The stare he gives you is piercing. “So climb onto my lap and let me take those feisty bites I know you’re dying to give.”

It doesn’t take a second for you to leap off the bed onto his lap, crashing your lips to his in a mess of teeth and tongue. Feels like dejavu when you tug at his lip ring hard enough to make him let out a whimper of pain.

“Why are you so annoying?” you manage to say in between kisses. “If you wanted to make out you could’ve just said so from the fucking start.”

Jeongguk hums, hands on your waist to pull you even closer to him. “You’re more fun when riled up.”

You grab a fistful of his hair and yank hard upon hearing his reason. “Say that again and I’ll withdraw any form of physical intimacy for a month.”

“See?” He grins. “Feisty.”

“Fuck, just kiss me.”

He does, biting your lips and licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue you can’t help but moan. It just fuels him even further to tighten his grip on your body and steal all the breath away from your lungs.

“Should I— fuck— put on the tongue piercing?” he asks when you roll your hips against his, creating a delicious friction between your bodies.

“No,” you pant. “That thing is— wait.” You pull away a fraction when you remember his words from earlier. “Didn’t you say you have to do something else?”

“Make out with you.”

His lips chase yours but you evade them, confused. “Huh?”

“My to-do-list. For today. Make out with you. Nothing else.”

You let him capture your bottom lip between his lips to suck and chew on like a kid would to a jelly while you contemplate the meaning behind his answer.

Once you understand, you deliver a harsh bite to his bottom lip, making him hiss (in pleasure or pain, you don’t care.)

“Yeah, babe, hurt me with your mouth,” he moans, but it doesn’t last long as he pulls away with another hiss.

“Ah, gotta take these off though, it’s digging into my nose.”

He slips the glasses off his nose, a faint red mark from where it pressed too hard on his skin. You move to place a soft kiss against the flesh, a stark contrast to how you’ve been kissing each other seconds ago.

“That’s what you get for being annoying.”

“Your kiss? Yes please.”

“Shut up.”

He dives back in for your lips, but barely a second pass when he pulls away again, making you groan impatiently. “For someone who wants to make out with me, you sure are pulling away a lot.”

“Just thinking,” he says. “How about I put on the tongue piercing and eat you out until you beg me to stop? Last time you only lasted three, let’s make it five this time, hm?”

You give him six.

a/n: i haven't written in 4 months so i apologize that this is bad hehe. thanks for reading! any feedbacks here will be appreciated :D

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bonknigirlinthehood · 10 months

Text

Leisure Time [1]

Blade x Child!Reader

CW: Reader has Blade’s original hair color (White-ish), the reader’s age was around 5-6 years, and the gender is neutral.

TW: mention of Blade trying to kill you (literally just 5 words).

author's note: I have daddy issues and I'm craving some hsr men as daddies. There will be a part 2 in the future, alongside with a Zhongli-child reader fanfic that someone requested and I kept forgetting to post (I'm sorry t_t). The full picture will be uploaded later!.

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Synopsis: Blade just woke up from his sleep after a long day of mission, and found his child sleeping on the edge of the bed. He thought it’ll be fun to kind of annoy you for a bit.

Rain was pouring hard when blade was awake from his slumber. He looks around the dim room, then his body. It's covered with bandages, with some blood seeping through it.

He sighs and sits, running his hand through his hair as he slowly recalls what has happened the past few hours. He got into a fight, got wounded as usual, and then probably passed out. He sighs again, half frustrated, half annoyed until he realizes something was on the edge of his bed.

You were sleeping on the edge of the bed, a bowl of water was placed near your feet with a towel on it. You sleep peacefully, ignoring the fact that your sleeping position was so uncomfortable.

Blade hesitantly reaches out to you, caressing your hair out of your face. Feeling calloused fingers touching you, you open your sleepy eyes and look at the man, still rubbing your eyes and trying to focus them.

"Daddy?" You ask, half whispering, then sweeping your body closer to him to take a better look. "A-are you okay?Is your head hurt?" Worried, you tried to stand and check on your father, but he grabbed your hand and put you to sit down on the bed. "I'm okay" he sighs, tracing a circle on your smaller hand.

You nodded, still feeling a bit groggy from waking up. Blade isn't the one to tell you about what happened during his "work", and you tried to respect his privacy by not asking much, yet it's still hard because as his child, you wanted to be useful to him even for a bit.

After a minute of silence, you try to talk again. "Uh…are you hungry?, I-i can get some food for you…"

Blade doesn't answer. Instead, he was eyeing you from head to toe, as if checking something until suddenly he brought you into a hug.

You yelp in surprise, feeling his large, bandaged hand covering your entire back.

When he lets go, there's this unknown expression on his face you can't quite decipher, but somehow he looks…. satisfied?.

'Looks like they treat you well enough'. He hums to himself. You tilt your head in confusion, but he just patted your head, making a mess of the hair that you with great effort trying to make it neat this morning.

"Noooo daddy!!It's hard to do my hair!You'll mess it up!" You whine, trying to take his hand off your head. He stops, but his hand remains on your poor disheveled hair, and no matter how hard you try you don't have enough strength to peel your father's hand from your head.

After a few minutes of trying, you give up and just let Blade rests his hand on top of your head. Through strands of your hair, he can see you puffing your cheeks and pout. He chuckles softly, and while you were surprised at the sound, you can't see it with your own eyes since he is still holding you down.

After feeling content for teasing you, he finally lifts his hand off your head and watches whilst you try to fix your hair. No matter how much he hates that hair color of his, he really can't blame you for being born with it. And the fact you look exactly like him in many aspects is just gut wrenching, it's as if life itself was mocking him.

Blade, now matter how many times has passed, still feels guilty. Whenever he looks at you, something stirred in him wildly–like his stomach being split open and his inside being ravaged. He feels sick to himself whenever he sees you or hears your voice. He feels…. unworthy, after literally the gruesome thing he almost committed towards his own child when you were barely 1 week old.

Blade tried to kill you.

If it weren't for Kafka and other Stellaron Hunters, he probably would feel the worst guilt he would ever feel in his life, and he is actually grateful to them for preventing him from doing so.

Because amidst all his sorrow, he finds it enjoyable to see you grow up.

Your first crawl, first steps, first tooth, first word…Blade actually has photos and videos of them in his phone. He even had to buy a harddisk to store it because he was running out of space on his phone. When he was out for work, he would watch the video of you from his phone during the break. There's even a video from his other colleagues where they record you and ask to say 'daddy to come back quickly' he hates it when they do that, yet every time he got one of those videos he would save it regardless.

When he got back, most of the time he would be wounded or passed out. And you will always stay with him when he is unconscious, waiting until he wakes up, just like now.

You tried to ask him about his job or his past, but after a few tries, you just stopped asking. Blade feels guilty, but at the same time he thinks it's for the better. It's better if you don't know anything about his past. Thankfully, you don't seem to be too bothered by it, even though sometimes he can see that curious expression on your innocent face.

"Uh…daddy…" you look at him shyly, “A-are you okay?, do you need more ban-bandase-banda..ge..s!” you ended up kind of shouting the last word since you still having a hard time pronouncing things.

Blade smirked when you tried to babble the word out. It amuses him whenever you try to pronounce a word that is just…complicated for kids. He thought it was cute and he actually has some video recording containing you trying to study pronunciation.

“It’s okay…” He answers, hand back on the side of your head, caressing your cheek and pinching it, causing a yelp from you.

“A-a!, Daddy!It hurts!” Blade retracted his hand, and you touched the reddened cheek with a pout. Your father sighs and picks you up, then kisses the cheek–much to your surprise.

“There, should be better now”

Your face turned red. Blade was never the one for doing kisses, so his action took you by surprise. You stare at him for a bit while, cheeks a bit flushed. Blade knew you were embarrassed, he actually was too but tried so hard to keep his poker face because it would be even more embarrassing if you see him being flustered.

'Why are you so cute? Your cheeks look like a hot bun. I should take pictures, but it would be too out of character for me to do it in front of the child…WHY'S MY CHILD SO CUTE DEAR AEONS.'

Blade was screaming internally right now. He holds you like a cat right now, and the fact you did not give him any resistance just makes him want to clench his chest tightly because of the cuteness.

After a good minute screaming in his inner heart, Blade suddenly brought your body closer to him and hugged you. You wrapped your arms around his neck in surprise, and just when you are about to shoot him a quizzical face, he pats your back softly, making you yelp a little.

He stops when hearing you yelp, but continues to pats you after a few seconds.

"Da..Daddy?" You called out to him, Blade only answered with a hum.

"Uhm…nothing…'' After answering him with that, you lay your head on his shoulder, enjoying the leisure moment between the Stellaron Hunter and his kid. Who knows how long until Kafka will come to this room and drag him away for another mission.

And before you realize, your eyelids flutter shut, your little mind succumbing to the dream land while being hugged by none other than your father.

–

"Bladie~, Elio decided to give you some free time. Why don't you bring your little baby out for a walk?. I heard the shopping district in this planet was quite amazing, i would like to go there myself too"

Kafka blows her drink before drinking it. Right now, the three of Stellaron Hunters were having a little meeting in one of the vacant rooms. Blade just got out of his room 5 minutes ago after putting you to sleep to grab some food.

"I actually wanted to go there too. Heard there was some nice arcade in one of the shops. Have to try it, y'know" Silverwolf added, eyes glued to her phone, trying to beat a stage.

Blade munched his sandwich in silence. That's right, he hadn't brought his child for a walk for a little while now…since he forbids anyone to take you out for a shopping or walk without him tagging along, it's been quite some time since the last time he brought you out to buy toys.

"Alright" he finishes his sandwich and drink before standing up, walking back to his room. Kafka only chuckles seeing him.

"Would you look at that, huh…" she hums.

"I can't believe that's the same guy who tried to kill his baby the first time he saw it" Silverwolf huffed, finally relaxing her body after beating the stage. "That baby gotta have some ancient magic or something to be able to turned that monster into a loving father"

"Heheh~, they say a father is always weak to his child, you know?. Maybe that was just the case" Kafka sips her drink again,

"Maybe his little baby can help him change the way his heart went, after all".

#blade x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr x you #blade x child!reader #blade x child reader #hsr men #hsr men x reader #hsr blade

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chococolte · 2 years

Note

May i please request SAGAU with scaramouche, tighnari, cyno and kazuha "You have such beautifull hair. They would look stunning if you grew them out. I promise i would help you take care of it"

event closed!

word count. 1.2k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, power dynamics, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. sorry i haven't posted in a hot minute, currently at my grandmothers & my brother has the flu, so i've had a hard time focusing on writing T_T

scaramouche

"You have such beautiful hair. It would look stunning if you grew it out. I promise I'll help you take care of it."

Your voice is soft like a lamb's fleece. His heart clenches from your tone, twisting as if pulled tight by an invisible string. You run your fingers through his hair, playing with it like it's something to be treasured. You touch him as if he's something precious; something to be nurtured and protected.

The thought hurts more than he thought it would. And Scaramouche detests the feeling building in his chest, hammering against his ribcage— burrowing deep within him, far enough he can no longer reach it. Far enough that he can't stop it, anymore.

Scaramouche shudders when your hands brush against the nape of his neck, warm against the cold of his skin. His heart pulls once again, teetering to the edge, and it takes all of his will not to slip deeper into your warmth. You tug at his dark violet hair, rubbing his strands in between your fingers as if his hair is the smooth petal of a sakura bloom.

I promise, you say. Scaramouche wants to believe you. He wants to throw everything away and entrust himself to you in his entirety. He wants to believe that you will be the singular god, the one person, to never betray him; he wants to think you will never throw him away. Your promise is small, but Scaramouche has lost so much. He has already shown you too much.

"If that is what you wish for," he says, voice weak. He doesn't bother to bite back, to snap at you with unkindness; instead, all he thinks is of your words.

As he closes his eyes, the back of his eyelids dance with stars in the shape of you. You braid his hair and paint the dull white world he's known for his entire life with color. You fill his world with laughter, and you don't ask for anything in return.

He hopes you keep your promise.

tighnari

Tighnari can't bear to meet your eyes.

Your hands are still running through his hair, pushing his bangs to the side. Your fingers glide over his forehead, and though your touch is faint, he feels the warmth radiating from your fingertips.

Tighnari vaguely realizes he should respond to you, but the words die on his tongue, stay frozen in his throat— his ears and tail still twitch and wag, his shoulders still shake and flitter. He tries to swallow it down, but finds himself suffocating.

He has never been brought to his knees like this before. He has never been speechless, nor thoughtless— his mind only a jumble of words and meaningless phrases. His only coherent thought is of you; you, dressed in your light and suffused with your kindness. You, bright and effervescent, the ineffable and infallible god. You, his god, his creator— you, loved by his soul and tangled within.

You don't rush him, continuing to play with the blue of his hair. You're gentle, soft like dewdrops on his skin. Tighnari wonders if you're being patient, or if you threw the words carelessly enough that you did not care for his response. Even if thought nothing of him, Tighnari wouldn't mind, he'd barely feel the course of rage; he would be saddened, but to worship you alone is enough.

Tighnari still clings to his pride, to the shame he would feel if you saw him so desperate— he resists the urge to fall deeper into you with every one of your lingering brushes against his skin, reminding himself that you have no use of a worshiper tainted by greed.

"I…" The rock in Tighnari's throat finally lets up, allowing him to breathe. He hopes you don't notice the softness in his tone, the slight creek of his voice. "For you, Your Grace… anything."

cyno

Your fingers thread through Cyno's white hair uninterrupted, even despite his sudden stillness.

A scorching heat envelops his cheeks like the desert sun, searing and almost cruel. Cyno feels like a fire has been lit underneath his skin, burning and contorting to the form of his face. He wonders if you've noticed. He wonders if you care, though the thought only lasts for a brief moment before he rips it apart.

You softly twirl some of his hair, rolling it around your finger. Cyno tries to keep himself composed, attempting to face the roaring of his heart with equanimity. His hands still lightly tremble in his lap, reeling from your compliment, small as it might've been.

He hopes you've noticed. But Cyno wouldn't blame you if you hadn't, or if you didn't care. Your will is sacred, meant to be revered and venerated; to force his own on yours is sacrilegious. To expect you to do anything for him is foolish. That you like one aspect of him should be enough.

Yet, Cyno can't help himself from leaning into your words. To be special to you, to hold a place in your heart— to be the one who you love. Cyno would never imagine himself worthy enough to stand beside you, never have the gall to think himself deserving of it— but his heart still sings, still drones in his chest from the implication of your words.

You care, minute as it may be. That is enough for him. Even if you can't keep your promise to him, he will keep it for you.

"Your will is my command," Cyno replies, eyes hard and resolute.

kazuha

Your fingers are tangled in Kazuha’s hair.

He doesn't dare to complain, even when you accidentally pull too hard. Even when you latch onto a small knot and tug, he keeps his lips pursed tight, unwilling to make even a small noise.

Your promise is a small one. It would be easy for you to forget. It would be easy for you to take it back. Kazuha wouldn't blame you; only feel the dull ache in his chest that rumbles whenever he is without you. Still, he latches onto your words, onto what he knows you only uttered without thinking.

Kazuha wants you to stay. He likes it when you're near. Your presence is soft. You feel like home. Your touch is love itself, despite how his skin burns every time you brush against it.

If he closes his eyes tight enough, breathes in your scent well enough, Kazuha begins to find the pain almost pleasurable— accidental as it may be, it stops being a jolt or a groan. Only more of you, of your warmth, your comfort.

It's not as painful anymore. It's just you, after all; and you could do nothing to him to make him stop loving you. Rip his hair, or stab his heart— if it is from you, the maker of his everything, the owner of his soul; who is he to deny you?

You take his hair and braid it, one lock over another. Despite the moment of silence, you continue unimpeded, a soft smile on your face. It is with this that Kazuha is thankful you can't see his expression.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, a glimmer of fervor and quiet adoration dancing within.

“Whatever you wish,” Kazuha eyes, smile audible in his voice.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #sagau scaramouche #sagau kazuha #sagau tighnari #sagau cyno #yandere scaramouche #yandere kazuha #yandere tighnari #yandere cyno #gender neutral reader

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