#jk medical shit just scares me

[johnbleepingzoidberg]

drinking disgusting hospital waiting room coffee rn

#waiting during my moms surgery #i hate hospitals #i was fine til i sat down and they took her back for pre op stuff LOL #separation anxiety much?? #jk medical shit just scares me #:( #hospital mention #surgery mention #do i need to put those tags if I've actually mentioned the words in my post #feels redundant #idk lol #blacklisting on tumblr used to be a lot less sophisticated than it is now. so idk what's still required #for things to work properly #'i wish i were still pre med' she says as she starts sobbing the second she steps into a hospital #i mean it's different when it's you or your family u kno #i had a lot of serious medical issues when i was a kid so i have some ✨medical trauma✨ #fun times

[ackerfics]

just say it, ditto: eren jaeger

— i got nothing to lose, i keep falling for you; ra ta ta ta, there goes my heart.

eren jaeger x female reader

summary: each note eren's heart sings is about you. it's only a matter of time yours sing about him, too.

word count: 6.8k

notes: i am proud to say that this is my comeback in posting full fics here. now watch me never posting one after months. jk. but still, i'm rusty when writing longer fics so i hope you enjoy this one! treat this as a gift for being one of the 2,000 people who made this blog possible <3 + it's pretty obvious newjeans is my favorite kpop group rn oop

— You’ve long since given up on relationships.

How many partners has it been since the start of university? With how that sounds, one will think that you’ve been breaking hearts around Paradis University; notorious for being a heartless individual with no value for the depth of emotions. That assumption rings false. One hand can sum up everything romantic you’ve experienced but these relationships felt longer than the time span they actually had that you’ve lost count of them. Everything becomes hazy to a point that everything morphs into a misty film reel, unlike the rose-colored lens you’ve always seen the world with even without the pretense of falling in with someone. You’re not one to be desperate for this fickle thing called love but every once in a while, you crave blanketing words that make you see flowers, unbridled laughter amidst piles of note revisions and readings, and hugs that feel like a warm cup of coffee in a chilly night of loneliness.

Your relationships always end in the same way — they couldn’t handle the way that you see and do things; the way you have to be the last one to have the say in an argument, how you should be left alone when you’re too immersed in finishing your tasks, or when you have the tendency to be absent despite being there for them (if that makes any sense). They say you’re too focused on your goals (there’s nothing wrong with trying to finish college just to be in one of the country’s best medical schools) or you’re too snarky and blunt for them to handle (you have a bad day when this happens).

So, you just let them go. Let them win.

It’s not that you’re tired of those repeating circles of words but because they’re right. You’ve been too snarky, picky when you’re eating something, focused on your future, never clingy for someone to be called a significant other — you just don’t have the strength to continue having those relationships even though you’ve seen the world in pink when you’re with them.

The break-ups all end on a sour note, like the time you’ve been given a piece of candy without being told it’s the sourest shit on the planet. Maybe that is why you’ve been scared of romance, to begin with — the appearance may seem sweet but you’ve taken a bite, and everything takes a turn for the worse. Yeah, you understand that relationships can have their ups and downs; but when you’ve heard your boyfriend talk to his friends about how you’re so irritating and downright rude most of the time, him crossing the line as he said that this specific girl from the other class is far sexier than you can ever be and that he wants to fuck her instead (coupled with a few explicit crafting of words that disgusted even your most open-minded friends) … You have already dropped the paper bag filled with his favorite food.

That’s just one of the break-ups. God knows how much patience you have for going through much worse.

Besides, you like spending your junior year with fewer worries than the previous years.

But sometimes, you always think of how lonely you are; like what does it feel like to have someone so patient that they assure you they’re always there for you? Or to feel so secure in a relationship that it’s like a warm fireplace, which can go on for so many hours keeping you warm and safe? You swear you don’t want your heart broken again but you still crave that rush love brings to you.

It doesn’t help that you see these things in your best friend.

Eren Jaeger is someone who you completely met by chance back in freshman year, back when you were all about making sure that your marks are pristine and that your parents can have another opportunity in being the proudest that they can get.

You remember him lingering in the doorway of your dorm room, something that you were wary about until he turned around to face you with this comical teary face that didn’t fit in with his overall broody aesthetic. He claimed that Mikasa, his best friend, and practically sister since they grew up together in the same house and your roommate, accidentally took his wallet back to your dorm room. One thing you know about Mikasa in the three weeks you’ve roomed with her is that she sleeps like a bear in hibernation. So, you unlocked the door to your dorm room and told him that there was nothing to worry about because you’d get his wallet and attached keys. That way, he could have his merry way home and he would be a passing face in university. Until he invited you to have dinner with him as thanks.

You accepted since it was free food and you just got out of a three-hour lecture.

The rest is history. It was there you got to know Eren as more than just Mikasa’s childhood friend. He asked you why you picked your major, you asked him how he was faring in his — the night ended with you two exchanging numbers and following each other on your socials.

He’s seen all of your failed relationships. While Mikasa tears up with you and Armin consoles you by rubbing your back, Eren is the embodiment of anger.

He once threatened to storm out of your dorm room to fight your ex after one break-up that had you picking up the broken shards of your self-esteem and confidence. He didn’t even hear Mikasa shouting for him to calm the fuck down but all it took was for you to plead for him to stay and never make a wrong decision.

“Eren, just stay,” your breath hitched with how hard you were crying. The break-up drained you for an entire day. Your ex dared to lay out every wrong and insecurity you felt to make him feel protected — that he would have a better relationship if he went out with the girl he met a few weeks after you two started dating. You look up at Eren, your bottom lip wobbling. “Don’t go out there.”

His entire demeanor softened. Walking to you, he sat on his haunches in front of you, his stare never wavering as he regarded the way your tears made your eyelashes clump together. Why’d you had to be pretty even when crying? He pushed the thought away and clasped the hands wringing the material of your skirt into both of his. The door behind you two closed — an indication that Mikasa gave you two the privacy you both needed, the girl decided to spend the rest of the day with Armin, who was begging to be updated on what was happening to you. Eren was sure the two of them would buy some groceries, anything you prefer, just to make you feel better. They’re awesome like that. Everything blurred into nothing when you’re in his view. You kept silently crying and while he still found you beautiful, he was itching to start a fight with that asshole of an ex you had.

Eren lifted your entwined hands to his lips, kissing them and making time stop. “I’m going to beat him,” he murmured against your knuckles.

You shook your head.

“He made you cry.”

You still shook your head, bowing to curtain your face with your hair.

“I hate it when someone makes you cry.” He gulped down the nervousness clogging his throat. “I fucking hate it when they managed to make the most amazing person fall in love with them and just break her heart after. Sweetheart, you don’t deserve to be treated like this.” The term of endearment flowed from his tongue like it was meant to — natural. “You deserve so much more than this. You deserve…” Was he about to say, me? What the fuck was he thinking? Now, he was the one who shook his head, mainly to dispel the thought from his head. “You know,” his voice was so quiet, “someone is willing to give you the love you deserve and it will take some time to meet them.”

You took your hands from him and he panicked. Did he say something wrong? Synonymous thoughts pulsed through the walls of his head, that was until you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. With the way he was still sitting on his haunches, his face became buried in your chest. It was almost like you were the one comforting him and not the other way around. He should be the one doing the comforting but God damn it, your warmth made him melt in everything that you encompassed — scent, presence, just you and only you.

“I’m tired of finding that love.”

“You have me — us, Mikasa, Armin, and the rest of our friends,” the way he saved himself was pathetic.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“You know I love you, right?”

Damn, there went that squeeze around his heart. He knew the meaning behind those words. You meant it in a more platonic manner because you never once said those three weighty words to your ex-boyfriends. Those who had the luxury to receive the phrase from you were your friends and it sadly included him. He didn’t want to walk around in this position. He wanted to be more. But that would mean you discovering his feelings for you. And yes, they ran deeper than the trenches discovered by mankind. You made him feel that kind of love — the type that gave him butterflies, tornadoes, bonfires, and all the seasons combined. You were the reason why he smiled most of the day, the reason why he looked at everything through a lens that presented all the colors in the spectrum and not just the usual hazy pink. 

“Eren?”

He buried his face deeper in your chest, the song of your heartbeat lulling him. He wished it was faster like the way his own tapped inside him.

“I know.”

He once again masked everything by saying the words back, with more ferocity and affection and intensity than yours did.

“I love you, too.”

That day was the reason why you stopped entering into relationships not worth your time.

You deserve a love that is more than what you seek from forgettable faces.

So, you focus on yourself … and the way Eren makes you question these budding feelings now that junior year rolls around.

“Where did you get this?” Eren asks when he trails his eyes on your hand sitting idly on top of the desk the private study rooms of the library offer.

He’s sitting beside you trying to get some work done before finishing the study session and getting some food from the nearby restaurants in the university town (which is a short walk from the library you both chose). What should be a group session becomes a pair because apparently; Mikasa has to go prepare for her mock trial with the rest of her class, Armin has to finish the pending experiment his group is doing for one of his laboratory classes, Jean has to be a fucking responsible teaching assistant for once in his life, Sasha has to cover some restaurant for her review (the deadline being later at midnight), and Connie has to attend his goldfish’s funeral (he doesn’t have a goldfish; their dorm building doesn’t even allow pets).

You find their excuses plausible except for Connie, bless his soul and his imaginary goldfish. So, now you spend the rest of the free day with Eren in the library, booking one of the study rooms for some well-deserved peace. You’re listening to some of your favorite songs when he speaks, catching his lips moving at the corner of your eyes.

“Hmm?” you hum while pulling down your headphones around your neck.

“This.” The moment he takes your hand in his, your heart starts pacing faster. “Where did you get this?” Eren carefully and softly runs his finger on the spots of red on the skin of two of your fingers. The scars seem fresh because you flinch. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“I didn’t realize I had that until Mikasa pointed it out actually,” you answer him.

He winces. “You don’t have any band-aids?”

You shake your head. “I forgot to buy some.” The way he stares at you makes you pout. “I did forget, Eren.”

“Yeah, yeah, got that.”

You’re about to go back to studying when you feel a pair of lips graze the scars on your hand. Time slows down and you swear you witness the room illuminate. Eren has his eyes closed, his long eyelashes tickling your skin. You forget to breathe when he opens them to give you the sight of his teal irises reflecting your wide-eyed image. His lips are still on your hand, the tingling sensation of his growing smile traveling through your arm and to your chest, warming up every part of your body until you feel your face flare. The gesture is completely new to you.

“There,” Eren says. “Tell me if the pain starts acting up,” he pulls back and leans on his chair, your hand still tenderly cradled on his palm. “I’ll take it away.”

You take your hand from his and hide it from behind the sleeve of your fluffy cardigan. You try to bring back your concentration but all you can think of is the feeling of his lips on your fingers. While you’re berating yourself, you never notice Eren grinning beside you, his heart thankful that your friends ditched you two in this study session.

It’s only when you two walk to your favorite restaurant that you register how annoyingly cheesy all that was.

Today is not your day.

You’re walking in the halls of your department building and even with the flow of liveliness surrounding you, all you hear are muffled noises and the deafening footsteps echoing on the floor. You were doing fine when you entered your first lecture of the day — more than usual it seemed. The friends you made in some of your classes saw how you cackled near tears at some unfunny joke that shouldn’t warrant that much hysterical laughter. Nobody would even suspect that you feel so sucked of all the vibrancy you always carry in the pockets of your jeans after continuous periods of sitting on different-structured chairs and having to participate in some impromptu recitations. You love being in university — you really do. It’s just that there are certain aspects of it and specific time frames that you have to admit how exhausted you are. So, as your friends chatter around you, you keep your head angled to the floor, your hands keeping the laptop case close to your chest.

The conversation unfolding in your presence is interesting but all you can manage are tiny hums of agreement or weak chuckles. The subject switches from enduring another period of recits, to the laboratory reports that needed to be turned in, to how there should be another store in the university town that sells any kind of food, and to who is the reddest flag among your peers. It’s almost like you’re watching shows with your father — always flipping the channel until he finds the one he’s most comfortable with.

Your mind is both empty and running a thousand miles per step. Sleep beckons you in a way that you have no say over. You’re pretty sure Mikasa is going to cook something delectable as always — that’s one thing you’re looking forward to when you go home to your shared apartment. A heavy sigh comes out of your chest, lifting your shoulders from the weight Atlas transferred on you.

Looking at the floor becomes bland and you have to lift your eyes to what’s in front of you.

Right at the end of the hallway, where the building lets the outside light pass through the entrance and exit doors, are Eren and some of his classmates, probably just coming out of a recent class, judging by their sluggish nature. You two share the same department building despite having different majors — him with his pre-med and you with neuroscience. You recognize some of them in the group photos Eren was tagged in on Instagram, like that boy with auburn hair who sneers every time someone so much as breathes within the same space as Eren or that boy with the slicked-back blond hair and army green bomber jacket. And in the middle of the group is one of your best friends, teal eyes hooded with boredom and hair tied up in that effortless bun he likes so much. He doesn’t see you yet and you have the urge to call out to him but you don’t find the energy to. Your social battery is already on the brink of shutting down and guilt starts dripping into your stomach.

Almost like he senses you, Eren meets your eyes.

He stops in the middle of the hallway with his hands in his pockets and eyebrows furrowed. You keep walking with your now curious friends. Who is this guy staring at us? Wait, he’s kinda hot though. Damn it, now I have another crush in this stupid university. You can hear them talking but you see nobody but him, your sneaker-clad feet carrying you closer to him.

With only a few paces separating you from him, he retracts his hands from his pockets and opens his arms with that lax posture of his. His friends are looking at him like he’s crazy but you know what he’s doing.

Your lip wobbles and you let out a shaky breath. You’re walking faster now. Just a couple of steps away.

Eren wraps his arms around you once you reach him.

He threads his fingers through your hair, cradling your head close to his chest, while his other arm secures you to his body, silently pleading for you to never stray far. There’s a pounding in the air, with you not knowing whose heart composes the vivace tune; because right now, you can feel your heart racing despite the calm Eren induces in you.

You two stay like that — suspended at the moment. Nothing in the world matters except for you two. Words aren’t exchanged. The moment Eren sees you walking that way, he instantly knows. You have that connection with him. One look is all it takes for him to swoop in and let you feel that you have someone to lean on as he leans on you. You feel that sentiment in the way he slightly tightens his hold around you, pressing you more so that all you can hear is his breathing and his unsaid thoughts. The scent he carries entangles with yours, similar to how your hearts beat in complement to one another. You bury your face in his chest and he buries his own in your hair. The exhaustion makes your joints creak and your dim world seeps away the longer he softly scratches your scalp with tender strokes.

You nearly cry as his lips seal this moment with a firm kiss on the crown of your head.

“I got you,” Eren whispers to your ears only. “I always got you.”

Shit, there goes your heart.

“Your next lecture is still an hour later, right? Let’s go get some coffee.”

For the first time in months, hope blossoms and you willingly let it fester.

“You okay?” Mikasa asks you as soon as she gets inside your shared apartment. She slides her tote bag from her shoulder, all the while never taking her eyes off you as you stare at nothing in the living room, your revisions and notes scattering the coffee table. “Babes?” The term of endearment is so natural between you and Mikasa but you’re so out of it that you don’t hear her call for you. “[Name].” She taps your nose with the tip of her finger.

“Oh, welcome home,” you greet once you get out of that daze.

Mikasa looks at you a second longer and places her hand on your forehead.

“Mikasa?”

“No signs of fever,” she murmurs, cupping your face in her hands. “You’re not overworking yourself again, are you?” Her voice gains that stern tone. Trust Mikasa to always pull you to the ground whenever you have one of those study sprees, only having coffee for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. “You know it hurts me to see you overworking. Hold on, let me whip up something for you.”

How can you tell her that you’ve been feeling unproductive because of her closest person? Because of that little heartstopping moment earlier, you’ve been in a constant spiral, neglecting your school work even when you already laid out everything in front of you. This isn’t like you at all — you’ve never been distracted because of a guy. You wonder what’s so different now. Eren has hugged you multiple times in the past and you even initiate most of them. So, why are you starting to sift through your memories with him and watching them in these pink-hazed 3D glasses? Every smile, every laugh, every eye contact that has you feeling like you’re the only person in the world for him … or just the way he makes your day better just by being there. You remember all the times he was about to storm across the cafeteria upon seeing one of your exes and the anger he embodied when he thinks of the way you’re always hurt.

This is bad — you’re seeing him differently after that hug and impromptu cafe hang-out.

The weight of that realization makes your heart race in a completely new tune, much clearer and melodic than the times you thought you experienced love in one of its forms.

“Mikasa.”

“Hmm?”

You can hear a pan sizzling from the kitchen. You remain looking at the coffee table, right at your phone lighting up with a notification, showing the world your wallpaper. Eren changed it to a picture of you two for fun. He was kissing your cheek, with you captured in a beautiful candid shot. You were laughing at the tickling sensation coming from his lips smiling against your skin. You never changed it. Mikasa chuckled to herself the first time she saw it. You could almost hear her say ‘idiots’ under her breath.

“Am I allowed to feel love again?”

You can sense your roommate turn around. It’s silent until she speaks in a clear voice, “You’re always allowed to feel love, [Nickname].”

“But what if I ruin it?”

Mikasa purses her lips. “You have never ruined anything. You might have small faults in those relationships but if your exes appreciated you just like they claimed, you wouldn’t hurt like this.” You’re still quiet and Mikasa thoughtfully turns back to make you a proper meal while continuing, “It’s okay to be afraid, [Nickname]. Falling in love is always a risk but it’s not good if you prevent it from happening. If that right someone comes, the jump you took to follow your feelings will be worth it in the end. It might cost you more heartbreaks along the way but everything will be amazing when that person is by your side.”

“And if I think I found him?”

The sound of Mikasa’s spatula stops, and the sizzle of the onions, garlic, and other vegetables persists through this pause. You take a peek at your roommate from behind the curtain of your hair, her back rigid and her hand holding the spatula hovering over the pan. “Miki?”

The girl shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I just remembered something,” she hastily tells you before swiveling to face you. Mikasa only displays emotions around certain people and you wish you could laugh at the disbelieving yet confused face she gives you right now. “You found him? And you think he’s the right someone for you?” She makes sure she doesn’t sound that skeptical to not hurt you anymore but she can’t help but feel like she’s been missing out on this recent development in your life. You've been roommates since freshman year and every time you fall in love, Mikasa is a witness to it, but not this one. This is a shock for her.

You nod at her, choosing not to use your voice this time

“Do I know this person?”

Your heart makes a flip in your chest. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugs. “Just checking. You know, to make sure. So, tell me about this lucky guy.”

“He … wears his heart on his sleeve.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “Even though that’s considered a weakness by some people, he manages to come this far by doing that. It’s one of the many things I adore about him.” You laugh a little. “He’s a little reckless most of the time. Oh, and he’s so brazen and sometimes broody, too. Those are some of the reasons why he gets into arguments with our friends. But even with all of that, he’s so attentive. The thing about people who wear their hearts on their sleeves is that they know when someone needs solace. He does that all the time and even without saying anything, my day just gets better with one hug from him.” You gain a blue blanket over yourself. “I just wish that I can give him the affection and care he’s always giving me. I know I’m bad at giving but … I’m willing to try for him.”

You look up and you feel your face heat up when you see Mikasa gawking at you. You watch as her face morphs into a rare smile that reaches her eyes. If you squint, you can see her holding back her squeal.

“And for that, I’m making this even more delicious just for you!”

And before you can call out to her, she’s going back and forth in the kitchen like a madwoman. Bewilderment is an understatement. One will think that Mikasa is the person falling in love inside this apartment and not you. A puff of laughter comes out of your lips, endeared by the sight of your best friend slash roommate being this ecstatic at the possibility of you in a stable and healthy development of feelings. You perch your chin on your propped elbow. Maybe you should hit up her favorite restaurant in the university town as a token of your gratitude, one that stems from three years of bonding.

“Confess to her.”

“Well, good-fucking-morning to you, too, Mikasa.”

It’s six in the morning on a Saturday. Eren deserves a full ten-hour cycle of sleep after that horrifying week he just survived. 

“Oh, did I wake you up?”

Eren pulls away his phone from his ear and glares at it, hoping that the girl on the other side of the call picks up on this ominous atmosphere he‘s starting to create. “What do you think?” He spits, particularly snappy at anyone, even the person he grew up with, for disrupting his previously-earned slumber (for once in university, he finally has the chance to enjoy sleep without worrying over deadlines). He internally cries when he feels the last tendrils of drowsiness seep out of his skin and onto the open windows letting in a new dawn. He wants to go back to sleep but with Mikasa’s call, he pitifully kisses that goodbye.

“Sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry.

“You don’t sound sorry,” Eren grumbles. “Why’d you call?”

A maniacal giggle tickles his ear, sending a shiver of fear down his spine.

“What the fuck—?”

“I have news.”

“Really?” He incredulously exclaims. “At six in the morning? Can’t you wait until like, what, later at noon to tell me? You know it’s my day off right now.”

“It’s about [Name].”

That catches Eren’s attention and he nearly throws himself off the bed.

“What?” He hastily stands up and fumbles to his closet for some decent clothing. “Is she alright? Is she hurt? Where is she right now? Does she need me to pick her up?” Silence is his answer. Eren again looks at his phone before putting it right next to his ear. “Mikasa? You still there?”

“Eren.”

“Yeah?”

“You have to confess to her.”

“What?”

He can feel Mikasa roll her eyes. “It’s just like I said. Confess.”

Eren slowly takes a few steps back until his knees hit the mattress, letting him on the plush mattress. “What brought this on?” It’s not the first time his best friend tells him to pour all his well-kept emotions into you, the reason for his giddy smiles and sweet nights. Just thinking of letting you know of this three-year worth of feelings makes his heart beat faster. What if you reject him? He’s seen you swerve from any romantic advances a person sends your way, he’s seen you cry over assholes who thought it was best to play with you, and he’s seen you content with this relationship you have with him. Eren sighs out a breath tainted with the scent of the yellow tulips and pink camellias sprouting in his ribcage. It’s almost pitiful how heavy his sigh is. “And why are you so sure about this?”

“I know things you don’t.”

He scoffs, running his hand through his hair, the wavy brown strands falling over his collarbone. “Look, Meeks,” the nickname is always there when he’s feeling unsure of himself, “I’ve thought about it, okay? But I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Trust me on this one, Eren. Maybe you can even thank me in the future.”

“Mikasa,” he warns.

“Eren, you have nothing to worry about. She said some things to me last night and I think you have a chance. This will be the time you can finally be with her and this will also be the time she can have someone who’s going to wholeheartedly love her in a way that she should be loved. This is your chance—”

Eren tightly closes his eyes at every word Mikasa spews out. His chest is rapidly going up and down until, “I’m scared.”

“What?”

“I’m scared,” he enunciates as if talking to a pesky sibling (which is how she’s acting right now). “I’m fucking terrified, alright?”

He curses when he feels a stinging in his eyes. He’s not about to cry right now — not when Mikasa is on the other side of the phone. He knows how she is when he cries. Eren remembers that one time he bawled his eyes out when his mother decided it would be nice to keep all his games away for one night because he was acting like a brat. Mikasa sneaked into his parents’ room in the middle of the night and successfully took his game from their closet. Thank God his parents weren’t about to give him a baby sibling that night. Nonetheless, Mikasa’s protective instincts for her friends flare when they cry. She does that with him, Armin, and especially you. You’ve practically replaced Eren as her top priority. So, right now, Eren hopes Mikasa doesn’t hear the wobble in his voice but that’s highly unlikely.

He continues, “[Name] swore off relationships after her last heartbreak during sophomore year. I’m not about to go up to her and tell her ‘Hey, I’ve been crushing on you so so bad since we were freshmen and I know you probably see me as a friend but how about that date? You look lovely by the way’. It’s not that easy, Meeks. I … freeze when those words come up.” And when you look at him with those eyes he dreams about waking up to every morning — curved like crescents with genuine happiness and love for him, Eren’s a goner. You have that effect on him. Time slows and everything dissolves into nothing when you’ve only done one thing, and that’s smiling at him. God, he’s so in love with you that the thorns are starting to sprout with the flowers. “It’s pathetic.”

With the pause on the other side of the call, Eren would think that Mikasa drops it.

“Mikasa?”

“... She’s ready to love again, Eren, and she’s ready to do it with you in the picture.”

A goddess of time, that’s what you are, because, at those words, Eren’s entire world stops.

“I won’t say exactly what she said because that would mean telling on her but,” Eren hears a smile on Mikasa’s voice, “she told me she found the right someone for her and I think, scratch that, I know it’s you, Eren. So, take the risk and confess to her, you idiot.”

“Do you think she’d accept it? My confession?”

“I’m confident that she will.”

The moment Mikasa hangs up to cook you some breakfast, Eren is already out the door.

You’re in the process of placing things in your school bag for your study session in the nearest library when the doorbell rings.

Mikasa is in the kitchen cooking up a storm, something about giving you a bento box for your grueling revisions so that you won’t have to spend a couple of dollars for a cafeteria ticket, so you’re the one closest to the front door. You leave your bag and belongings on the couch, thinking that maybe Sasha wants to join you and Mikasa for some early breakfast. But then, the girl wakes up in the middle of the day during weekends. You now wonder who’s incessantly pressing the doorbell like they’re a kid in the Halloween season begging for the owner of the house for some free candy that they will neglect after a day. You refrain from grumbling out profanities and quickly open the door without a word. The irritated cloud hanging over your head clears at the sight in front of you. It’s replaced with warmth and a soft tune emanating from your chest.

Eren looks like he’s run a marathon, hands on his knees and hunching on his back to catch his breath.

“Eren, what are you doing here?” You ask him, looking back over your shoulder to check on Mikasa. You turn back to him once you see her preoccupied with cooking. “Come in. I’ll get you some water.”

“No,” he straightens his posture, “I’m alright.” He takes a couple of deep breaths, almost like he’s trying to gather courage. You never take your eyes off him. You’ve seen him with unbound hair; but seeing it after admitting to yourself that you’re having feelings for him, it’s not exactly kind to your heart. The glow of the early sun illuminating the window at the end of the hallway creates this illusion of a halo around his head. With the smile on his face, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and lets his little dimple peek through, you can’t help but think that he’s here to conduct this song beating inside your chest. You only blink when he sheepishly scratches his nape and says, “Can you come out here for a sec?”

You’re about to peek at Mikasa when he adds, “Please?”

His eyes flicker behind you but he tenderly wraps his hand around your wrist before you can even turn your head and pulls you out of the doorway.

“Eren, what is this about—?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Your heart is beating a song and each note is about Eren Jaeger.

“And I have for quite some time. Since freshman year exactly. I’m so fucking in love with you that you’re the first thought I have in the morning and the memory I replay in my mind to sleep at night. You consume me, [Name], and God, I don’t know what I’d do if you start searching for love again. I don’t want you to find the one you’re looking for in someone that’s not me. Call me selfish but I decided that I'd gladly be that just to tell you my feelings. I don’t want to make a regret that will haunt me my whole life onward so, here I am, telling you how much I love you and I don’t want you with somebody else.” He’s breathing heavily again. “Woo, that feels so good to let out,” Eren murmurs under his breath, his head tilted back to blink away any sheen of tears.

Now that he’s said his piece, it’s your turn.

You can’t comprehend looking for any shed of love since you started university when it’s right in front of you — holding your hand when you cross the street, attentively listening to you as you ramble about your newest hyper fixation of the week, hugging you in the middle of the hallway when you have a bad day, kissing the scars you’re unaware of having, giving you the love and appreciation you deserve above all else … love has always been in the form of Eren, one of your best friends. You regret never seeing it come to light sooner. You place the palm of your hand over your trembling mouth. His expression wilts when he sees your teary state. They finally trickle down your cheeks as his large hands cup your face in a hold that says you’re more fragile than a lone bubble drifting in the air. 

“Hey,” Eren breathes, his head ducking to meet your eyes. “Don’t cry. It pains me to see you cry.”

“But you—”

“It’s the truth. But if you feel like it’s making you sad, I’m taking it back.”

“No!” You cover his hands with yours. He blinks in surprise. “I’m just so happy, Eren.” You let out a watery laugh in between his palms.

Eren feels his breath taken away. “What?”

You nod with a large smile. “I’m happy you said those words. I,” you choke up; you haven’t received this intense of a confession in your lifetime, “because I—” he looks so expectant that a little laugh bubbles in your throat. You lean into his touch and beam the most radiant smile you ever give someone, “I’m starting to fall in love with you.” At his stunned silence, you continue. “And I’m sorry for being so late at reciprocating, but don’t worry because I’m saying it back now, Ren.”

Eren explodes, “Fuck yes!”

And then, he hugs you close, letting you hear the tumultuous beat his heart is telling you. His laughter beckons yours to bubble from your chest, molding together harmoniously as the sun fully waves her greeting to the world. He blankets you in one of his embraces, but this time, he’s taking this chance to pull you closer than usual. Eren is this happy to know you are accepting his confession and returning his feelings, how much more if you’re going to build a slow romantic relationship with him? You’re not going to lie, the thought of you and him being each other’s partners spurs spring to grow inside your chest. You place your forehead on his chest for a moment, only pulling away when he once again cups your face in his palms. The melodic laughter coming from you sings its notes with every kiss Eren gently presses on every inch of skin his lips can find. Your forehead, temples, cheeks, eyelids, nose, the corners of your mouth — and all of them tickle each butterfly tingling your stomach. 

He only pauses when he’s in front of your lips. You open your eyes to find Eren staring at you with the immutable essence of love within his limbal rings. His pupils cover the majority of his iris until only a tiny ring of emerald peeks through. Your reflection is clear enough to see your wide-eyed expression. You expect him to kiss you breathlessly, erasing every thought in your brain so early in the morning, but instead, he nuzzles his nose against yours, all the while maintaining eye contact.

“We’ll take this slow, okay?” Eren whispers only for you to hear, not even the potted plant idly sitting by your apartment’s door can listen in. “I know you’re tentative but I’m willing to be patient. I will wait for you no matter how long it takes like I’ve waited three years for you to finally see me differently. And you don’t have to worry because, sunshine, I’m always here to catch you, to care for you, to love you with everything I have. So, are you willing to give me a chance?”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. You nod, “Yeah. If it’s you, I’m ready to give romance a chance again, pretty boy.”

His grin can make a thousand moons shine.

“We have nothing to lose.”

“Yeah.”

“I finally have you with me.”

“I’m now with you, Ren.”

“God, sunshine, I’m so in love with you.”

"And I'm falling for you, pretty boy."

#— rory's passages 🌼 #— serotonin boost 💐 #eren attack on titan #eren x reader #eren x you #aot x reader #attack on titan eren #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger #eren aot #attack on titan imagines #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin #eren x y/n

[aajjks]

he has a fuck buddy?!!! wtf 😭⚠️

BC!JK

love? did he say that he was in love with you? maybe those exact words didn’t come out of his mouth but yoongi and the rest are pretty sure their youngest member is head over heels for you. it doesn’t make sense to them, none of this does and even while he’s getting his dick sucked, he still can’t take his mind off you.

your face littered with freckles along your cheeks and nose, your chubby face, pink lips, and baby eyes. everything about you drives him crazy, makes him want to hurt anyone that hurts you.

“doubt i’m sucking your dick THAT well” his fuck buddy, soojin says while stroking his thick member up and down. “what’s on your mind?” she says sticking out her tongue and teasing him.

lee soojin. beautiful, talented, and is a popular singer at school with hopes of becoming an idol. she and jungkook have been fucking around for awhile, a year ago to be precise, and it happened out of nowhere.

she was giving him the bedroom eyes during a music session with yoongi and next thing she knows, they’re fucking in a closeted area. soojin has a thing for jungkook, she won’t lie.

he’s super attractive and mysterious but she wish she knew more about the bad boy. he’s such a private guy that it’s hard to figure out what’s going on that head of his and in someway she’s hoping it’s her.

“ughhh condoms again?” soojin complains as jungkook pulls her up from sucking him off and shoves the golden packet in her face. “thought i told you i’m clean AND i’m on medication. you don’t have to worry about a thing” soojin convinces as she takes the condom and puts it aside.

“or how about you finish on my face this time hm? that way it’s not inside” she proposes even though that’s what soojin really wants. she wants to be his and not his fuck buddy, that’s what she really wants but there always seems to be something in the way of that.

or rather someone.

He’s really not aroused right now, not at all, not when his mind is so distracted, how could you just have run away like that? He saved you, you should’ve thanked him. “Yknow what? I don’t feel like cumming.” He says as he is pulling his underwear up and then he quickly fixes his pants.

He’s wearing denim, and he feels like shit. He’s probably scared you a lot and it’s more than just bullying you or tearing off your journals.

“I’ll see you later.” He says before he’s out of the room. Soo Jin is saying something but he doesn’t really pay any mind to her because he’s stuck on you 

You could’ve thanked him and just give him the most amazing kiss that he’s so badly craves from you but you just ran away like a coward. Jungkook feels so sick right now, he needs a drink, because even getting his dick sucked didn’t get his mind off you.

Why the fuck does he care about you so much? “Fuck you yn.” Jungkook mumbles under his breath, smoking didn’t calm him down either.

The only thing he’s looking forward to right now is getting your number, and this is the last class you have to attend for the day. Of course, he is bunking his.

So Jungkook just decides to wait for you.

he’s closed his eyes and he immediately sees your face. You and your stupid pretty little face. The thing frustrates him the most is that you’re not even his type.

Yet He’s so obsessed with you. Jungkook is right outside in the school yard- and he stares at his watch.

You should be out in a few minutes or so, and of course he’s right, because there you are. “Oi yn?! Come here.” He’s almost running towards you- “give me your number.” he takes out his phone and he stops you in your tracks, he takes your hand and puts his phone into it.

“come on, hurry up, nerd.”

#ask: bc!jk

[solesommerso]

Miscellaneous Headcanons about Street

- these all either spawned from thin air, me and @blathannabeaga convos or me and @anne-is-obsessed convos

he/she/they pronoun user

he’s a vegetarian, which Luca teases him relentlessly about and does not understand

Hondo & Annie both make separate meals for him once they learn he’s a vegetarian

he stress bakes

he also stress cleans

he was in the emo/punk scene as a teenager

reads books before bed when he can

plays stupid pranks on tan all the time, almost never gets caught

smokes medical weed, can neither confirm nor deny if he’s shown up to a team dinner high off his ass

prefers hoodies to sweaters

refuses to get a new leather jacket and has told Chris to bury him in it when he dies

loves horror movies

cries when the dog dies but not the people

hates coffee but shotguns red bulls before shift

him and tan drink tea together

had long hair growing up and only cut it for the academy

it was a very emotional hair cut

flirts his way into getting free shit all the time

goes to cafes just to get tea and read away from Luca and his constant music playing

listens to early emo/pop punk music

avid eyeliner user, he smudges it so it’s almost unnoticeable but Chris points it out his first week

prefers converse over vans

walks beaches when he needs to clear his head

half his closet is just flannels and black t shirts

wears Nate’s chain on his day off, he’s too scared to lose it in the field

can’t make eye contact to save his life. It drives Hondo up a wall sometimes

fidgets constantly

him & molly are still friends, it somehow always baffles the team

painted his nails in high school and Long Beach but got too insecure to keep doing them in swat

has been to many many pride events, none of them were for him though, obviously

jk he loves having glitter on his face and gushes over the drag queens every single time

has “accidentally” broken Lucas beyoncé cd’s after the twentieth time ‘freakum dress’ was on

still denies it was on purpose (it totally was)

if he’s not the one driving he gets anxious so the team just accept their fate that they have no choice but to let him drive

he genuinely hates driving hondos or deacons truck

prefers low to the ground cars or his bike

him and Alfaro have matching tattoos they don’t talk about

streets is a moon on the inside of his bicep, Alfaros is a sun on his calf

he actually has quite a few tattoos but they’re hidden unless he’s in shorts or a tank top

has a box of sketch books he’s filled over the years, still keeps one in his bag at all times

makes fun of Tan for not knowing how to draw but secretly keeps all the drawings in a folder for when he’s sad

would never admit it but Tans his favorite person on the team, Hondo being a close second

#js #jim street #sammy headcanons #half of these have been sitting in my drafts but I finally made a real post about it #some of these might be repeats from an old post of mine but shhh

[opaljm]

i. legend of the lamp (m) – jjk

➺ pairing: genie!jungkook x female reader

➺ genres/tropes: fluff; humor; smut; fantasy au; magic au; strangers to lovers

➺ warning/content tags: 18+; explicit sexual content: female masturbation (solo shower time activities, pro anal enthusiast y/n she wants it SOO bad but is very deep in denial); underwater sexual activities plz do not attempt at home you might drown (kissing, fingering, multiple orgasms, boob kink jeon makes his debut, he likes to bite and make it hurt but he also likes to kiss it better); sex in public (jungkook is an exhibitionist freak, y/n and jungkook give the ‘mile high’ club a new meaning, very mild food play, mean cocky jungkook shows up as expected, jjk's dirty talk is UNMATCHED, gross nasty jeon with the spit/licking kink, overstimulation, orgasm denial, the slightest bit of breath play/choking kink, impregnation kink is mentioned, possessive attention whore jungkook); sloppy cunnilingus with too much teeth tbh, finger fucking, there’s almost fisting but they both wimped out— there's always next time tho ;), forced orgasms, big dick hung like a fucking stallion jeon jungkook, unprotected sex but its fine cuz koo is a genie with fetus deletus powers, spanking, soft dom jk who degrades y/n like a CHAMP if it were a contest he would be winning a gold medal for it, jungkook likes to punish y/n until she can’t even think straight, standing up sex courtesy of strength demon jeon, praise thirsty competitive af constantly wanting validation jungkook, they both have a size kink let’s be real, reader has a strength kink throughout this entire fic she just wants to be manhandled and thrown around like she’s jungkook’s pretty sex doll, soft passionate sex, creampie, lovely aftercare from our cleaning fairy koo

➺ word count: 23k semi-edited but im too tired to actually do it properly :(

➺ summary: Jungkook has been serving his time as a genie for the last 2000 years, unfortunately stuck in a lamp for the last 200 years before he is woken from his slumber by a beautiful woman who somehow activates his lamp while making a wish that ends up letting him out. After eons of having to bend over backwards to make the desires of evil individuals from power hungry dictators to spoiled princesses come into fruition, he’s updated his contract to be more choosy over who the lamp allows to be his master. It comes to his great surprise that this woman was able to make the lamp work and that she only yearns to be loved and no longer be lonely. But all of the wishes he grants now have time constraints, another caveat he added to the contract, and he wonders what life would be like if he had never made that stupid rule. Because, as the week progresses, he finds himself falling deeper and deeper into her spell, pondering what it would be like if he never had to stop playing the role of her man. 

➺ author’s note: Sorry for disappearing after announcing a fic, I had a health scare which kind of had the domino effect of making me have a really shitty three weeks regarding my education and future and pulling me into a depressive episode (which yea turns out can be firmly blamed on the medication I've been taking because its a possible side effect). It's been a mess and a half but, I'm here, the fic's here (or half of it anyways). I hope you all enjoy it and leave some love 💕 Also, if I had known that all of that shit would’ve happened, I would’ve posted part one a lot longer ago, since you all know I had finished writing it a while back. I just kept holding out hope that I would be able to finish the entire fic in time but life got in the way of that. I hope that y’all don’t hold that against me too much! Part two will drop after Jimin’s birthday fic drop so I don’t fuck up that deadline as well! I’m under a lot of pressure as one of the hosts of his birthday collaboration. Please, please, please leave feedback for this story. Since it’s a two shot, your feedback is absolutely critical in helping my self-esteem about the direction of the story and flowing my creative juices for writing part two! 

This fic is a part of Namkook’s Moonrise Masquerade! Banner made by @kimtaehyunq​. Beta-read by @jimilter​ (miss girl helped out with the content warnings too we love her!), @ressjeon​, and @amourtae​ the lovely angels❣️

↳ second/final part | main masterlist

Today has just absolutely not been your day. 

It seems like things went off to a rough start from right when your morning began. You woke up late because your alarm clock hadn’t gone off, and in your hurry to leave for work this morning, you picked out your outfit for the day half asleep as you attempted to brush your teeth and comb through the unruly mess that was your bedheaded locks of hair. When you spit out that white cloud of mint flavored foam, it got on your peach colored lavallière top, staining the silk pussycat bow. 

You ended up wearing a too tight black with gray pinstripes pencil skirt you kept meaning to donate to Goodwill, but never quite got around to it, and a silky white blouse that you had loved when you thrifted but then later had realized that the abstract black lines that made up its designs were not flowers like you initially had thought but were rather depictions of nude female silhouettes. The shirt is lovely; it’s certainly a statement piece and one that would look great on you on most occasions and would make for a darling ‘outfit of the day’ post on Instagram, however it is not exactly workplace appropriate attire for the public university where you work as an admissions counselor. 

But even with that little kerfuffle, you had not been too stressed early on in the day. Oh, if only you knew how badly the rest of the day would continue to be. As you went out the door, you smartly thought of snatching your black peacoat off the coat hook in the entryway, which could be used to cover up the sexually deviant positions the ladies on your shirt were contorted into. You ended up needing it too, after a mishap at the coffee shop in the student union left you with dark coffee dripping down your torso and making your shirt transparent as it clung to you with the wet sugariness of the shaken espresso seeped with vanilla syrup. 

Things continued to go badly during your appointment with an incoming freshman and her parents who wanted to pull her out of the university because of the trouble she had gotten into over the summer after graduating from high school. Your heart goes out to the girl after remembering how badly that conversation had gone and how despite your best attempts, neither you nor she could sway her parents’ made up minds. You weren’t even able to convince them to change her enrollment to an off-campus one where she could commute from her parents house, whereas she was previously an on-campus student with a room in the freshmen dorms. They wanted her to pay for her actions by going to community college and getting a part time job.

Making matters worse, you had almost thrown up the 6-inch Subway tuna melt you had gotten and now as you walk home, in your pinching heels, too tight skirt, and your peacoat hiding your stained shirt, to your apartment just two miles away on the far end of the glittering and bustling university village that was adjacent to one of the largest and most vibrant cities in the country, it starts to drizzle.

Normally, you do not mind the rain. Of course, your previous attitude of the rain was based on the fact that you did not have too many experiences of being wet like a drowning rat, caught in the middle of the storm without an umbrella or any sort of protection while wearing shoes that were not that slip resistant. 

You sigh as you continue onwards, wondering if maybe you should duck into the Target that you are passing to buy an umbrella. But you already know that Target will be out of stock, like it always is out of stock during unexpected bouts of rain because the students buy out the umbrellas, even going so far as to making the overpriced ones in the student store, that are in the school colors and have the school’s mascot imprinted on them bold and center, out of stock. 

When you finally do get home, you leave your wet shoes on the mat you have just inside the entrance, toeing them off and exchanging them for your fuzzy pink bunny slippers that are not only soft and dry but a huge and warm comfort to your freezing feet. You scamper your way to the opposite side of the apartment, sliding the glass doors that lead to the balcony open, and you hang your coat off of the backs of one of your iron outdoor chairs for it to dry, or at least keep it from dripping all over your apartment. 

You debate whether you should take your clothes off on the balcony too. You’re not afraid of university students seeing you; your apartment is out of most of their price ranges except for the richest of them all, but even knowing that, you don’t have a lot of fear since half of your balcony is covered in thin mesh privacy netting. The half of your wraparound balcony that is exposed to the elements is the part of it that you can access from your bedroom’s sliding doors as well. Not wasting another second, you quickly shed the offending articles of clothing off, just standing there in your fuzzy slippers and a matching black pair of Sabrina panties and brassiere from Honey Birdette. You regret your decision instantly as the transparent tulle and ribbons of lace do nothing to protect you from the blasts of wind causing the rain to drift your way but you fight through it. After letting those clothes hang to dry as well, you make your way back in, bypassing the living room to head straight for the shower. 

Your black underwear set clings to your body, you notice when you catch a glimpse of yourself of the giant mirror that takes over half the wall over your dual sink vanity. You see a figure with hardened plum colored nipples, covered in goosebumps, staring back at you. Her eyes widen from her surprise at how her body quivers even indoors and her hair is drying in messy curly tendrils around her ears. You look almost unrecognizable.

Flittering around the modern minimalistic styled bathroom, you busy yourself turning on the shower and waiting for the water to turn warm, as it always takes the pipes a moment to heat up. In the interim, you grab two fuzzy towels, one for your hair and one for your body, to throw over the glass partition of the shower since there are no conveniently placed towel racks. You also grab your fancy pink “cloud” face wash from the sink, which honestly does too little for its steep price point, in your opinion, and your A Thousand Wishes body cream from Bath & Body Works, that you had stocked up on during the summer semi-annual sale. 

By now, the water is finally hot enough and starting to steam up your bathroom a bit. You slide off your bra and step out of your panties before flinging them into the laundry hamper. Walking into the shower stall is a welcome respite after your long day. For a moment, you just stand there motionless, letting your eyes flutter shut as the showerhead jets water over you, soaking your hair completely and soothing your worn out exhausted muscles. You could pass out from comfort in the shower and that would be horrible but oh you understand now why some people are able to fall asleep in their baths. 

Your shampoo and conditioner bottles are the pump kind so you don’t need to put in too much effort to squeeze out the peony and amaretto scented ambery gold colored liquid into your cupped palm. Today is going to be a simple shower; you’re too drained to go into your whole hair routine with its scalp scrubs, serums, and hair masks, in addition to the usual shampooing and conditioning you do. When it's finally worked into your hair, making it foamy from how well you scrubbed it in, you let the shower wash your hands clean and let the suds disperse. 

Your shower gel is A Thousand Wishes scented too; you’re not the type to mix scents and give yourself a migraine when you can avoid it. Abandoning the loofah, you decide to run your soapy hands over your body for a quick clean. When your hands skim over your breasts and your long acrylic nude ombre nails catch on a nipple, instantly turning the already hard nub into a rock solid bullet, you stifle a surprised moan. Your mind whirls as you recover from the sensation. 

Even as fatigue clouds your mind, the world seems to get closer as your senses become hyperaware. Suddenly you can feel the cool stone underneath your feet that much more as your toes curl in pleasure from how it contrasts wonderfully with the warm water cascading over you. As your hands wander down your body, molding your palms against every curve and divot, the shower gel and water provides a nice lubrication, making it easy for you to slide your fingers over your body. You have to press harder to make your touches rougher, and the delicious friction that comes from those more frantic brushes make your voice catch in the back of your throat before it crawls its way up in the form of a delicious keen.

Oh, what you would do to have a gorgeous male manhandle you right now. You like it rough; you like a little bit of force that reminds you of the strength behind his muscles that you know he would never use on you but the idea that he could make your strength and size kinks come alive. Your hand now transverses over to your throat and you wrap your slim fingers around it, your long nails lightly scraping against the delicate flesh, relishing in the hold but sighing in frustration that your small weak hands can’t apply the pressure that you actually want. 

You’re single because the males you keep finding have no idea how to treat a woman in a way that makes her feel safe even when she wants to be utterly destroyed. A lot of it is based on trust and respect. The shitheads you meet? You wouldn’t even trust them to walk you home at night without angling for a kiss you don’t want to give. 

Abandoning the hand from your throat, you instead press your front side against the marble walls of the shower, pretending that it’s your lover who’s got you clinging to the damp stone and that his hands are dipping over your hips before going lower, wrapping themselves around your thighs in a way that has his thumbs pressing into the clefts of your asscheeks as he spreads them apart and the water from the shower flows into the puckering hole that is revealed. You hate the concept of anal sex but as one of your hands busy themselves in the front, plucking at your clit and fluttering across your folds as you tease yourself to the brink without any insertion, the other hand is working on your tight asshole, your thumb pressing onto it, flirting by only letting the tip of your thumb in before pulling away.

What you would do to have a big heavy cock stroke your ass, painting it with its precum, taunting the sensitive hole hidden between by pressing against it but not entering. Or for you to be on your tiptoes with your legs parted so that his cock could slide underneath, thrusting against the petaled furls of your pussy until he plunged into it from behind while you’re trapped between his warm slick body, his hard abdominal muscles and chest pressing against your back, and the cool marble, your nipples turning into stiffened peaks that are begging to be touched but finding no purchase against the slippery walls. It would feel almost claustrophobic, like you can’t move due to his delicious weight and like the only part of you that could move was your pussy, its walls clenching around him and clinging to him every time he slammed into you. 

With three fingers inside you, you can almost pretend that it’s real. Though, you know that at any moment you can move away since there's nothing actually trapping you into the position that you are in. You can’t finish though, your mind is your own mental prison, too cynical and realistic for its own good. You find yourself reaching up for the removable shower head and pulling it down. Your hand frantically clicks on the controls, increasing the water pressure. You debate if you want to do this standing up but you know that you will lose the feeling in your legs the second your explosive orgasm hits after being edged for so long. Thus, you slide down to a sitting position in your shower, your back against the wall, your legs folded up and spread apart as you position the showerhead right at your cunt, knowing that your clit will be getting the maximum pressure possible. 

You emerge from your shower ten minutes later with your legs feeling so jelly-like you have to grip at the walls to make it back to the sink to finish up your skincare routine and return the products that you had taken with you into the shower back to their original homes. 

When you feel squeaky clean and refreshed, bundled up in your favorite pajamas, a beige plaid set you had gotten as a white elephant present so they are very roomy and swamp your body, you finally deal with your wet work clothes properly and put them for a cycle in the dryer. You’ll likely have to deal with your Chinese Laundry peep toe pumps as well so that the leather doesn’t dry weirdly and make them crack in places but, that’s a concern for you in the future.

With a towel wrapped high around your head in a way that might end up giving you a receding hairline, if you don’t stop using that method to dry your hair soon, you step back into the main part of your apartment. Your eyes quickly go to the coffee table where it appears that your best friend had dropped something off while you were away at work.

There’s a bouquet of pink and white peonies that you immediately fix up in a vase with the proper amount of water, a square box covered in black matte wrapping paper with art deco style gold designs embedded into it, and lastly, a wine bottle in a gorgeous black and gold gift bag that compliments the wrapping on the box and has a matching envelope pinned to it. Before you sit back down on the plush comfort of your oat colored cloud sofa, you rip the envelope off from how it’s been stapled to the gift bag so that you can tear open the flap and get to the card inside. Reclining back, you narrow your eyes to read, having forgotten to grab your glasses from your bedroom dresser and having already taken off your contacts for the day:

Happy Birthday my darling Y/N! I hope that your 25th birthday is the most beautiful one to come so far! Wishing you nothing but blessings and good fortune on this beautiful day! Your present this year is one that surprised me as well but when I saw it, I was drawn to it instantly and the thought that it might be perfect for you abruptly flooded my mind! Can’t wait to hear your opinion on it!

Love, Safi

P.S. Don’t waste this wine by keeping it for a better day! Live in the now by cracking it open today and enjoying a birthday toast because today is just as important as whatever future occasion you’re trying to justify would be a better opportunity to enjoy the wine! (save the Sephora gift card for a rainy day though lol)

You laugh self-indulgently and look back inside the envelope where there is indeed a black $100 Sephora gift card before putting them all aside. You suppose you should listen to Safi’s advice even though today has not been a great birthday by any stretch of the words since it will be nice for you to unwind with a glass of wine. Pulling the bottle out you can see that it is a bottle of rosé, Gerard Bertrand Cote des Rosé to be precise, and the glassware is magnificent with the bottom of the bottle being designed in the shape of a rose with all its petals. 

The box lies unopened for now even if it’s your main present. You have too much of a one track mind and you immediately want to crack open the alcohol to let loose and make yourself forget about your day for just a little bit. You head for the kitchen cabinets and reach for the first drinking vessel you can grab, not too picky when it’s almost 11pm and you have to wake up at 6 in the morning. Perhaps Safi didn’t want you to drink the alcohol out of a coffee mug, in your most comfy sleepwear and a towel wrapped around your head, but it’s the best you can do at the moment. 

You nestle the bottle in the crook of your right arm, holding the mug in the same hand while grabbing the box with your left and taking all three objects out with you to the balcony. It takes you a little finagling to manage opening the sliding door but you soon make your way out where a light breeze brushes against your body comfortingly. Placing everything on the table you have outside, you head back in once more to grab your corkscrew from where it was misplaced in the junk drawer.

It’s not long before you’re back outside, sitting down and admiring the rainfall, which you are now able to appreciate since you are no longer soaking in it. It’s more of a light drizzle now and most of the clouds have dissipated, leaving only the thinnest types of stratus and stratocumulus clouds. In the heart of the city it’s impossible to make out any stars in the night sky due to the pollution and lights but you enjoy looking at the moon as you sip from your mug and let the rosé, which somehow managed to stay chilly all this time, slide down your throat. 

Your attention finally goes to the box and you carefully unwrap it, though you know that it will be unlikely that you will reuse the wrapping paper unless you take up scrapbooking again. Inside is a simple black colored cardboard gift box, and once you remove the top, you find yourself looking at a gorgeous antique looking hanji lamp though you know better than to think that Safi dropped money on an authentic Silla era lantern. You can’t even begin to imagine how much that would cost. Even still, as you turn over the rectangular structure in your hands, you find yourself musing that you would never dare to light the magnificent ornament. It was going to remain a purely decorative piece whose design and history you would appreciate from its place on one of your shelves. 

You find yourself holding it up to your face to get a closer look at all four paper sides of the wooden structure, squinting to make out the images painted on them though it’s difficult because you had forgotten to turn on your string lights and the moon is only a crescent, not providing much of a glow, so you are practically bathed in darkness. 

You scrunch up your forehead thinking of how nice it would be if you had better lighting, No sooner does the thought come across your mind, do you find yourself suddenly bathed in a luminous glow as a shooting star hurls across the inky black sky, painting it with a white blue streak of light. You have never in all of your years seen a shooting star flying across the sky so close to you and you immediately snap your eyes closed. You were never one to waste your time on wishes but maybe in between it being 11:11pm, the shooting star, and the fact that you have not made a birthday wish yet, one of them will work to make your desire come to fruition. It can’t hurt to try right? Maybe finally your deepest yearnings will come to life. 

Little do you realize, that as you make your wish, a little light is cast from the inside of the hanji lamp, warming it up with a small soft candle glow before it flickers out at the end of your wish. When you finally open your eyes and look down, of course you see nothing. That hope you had quickly vanishes as your cynicism returns and you find yourself painfully laughing in a self-flagellating way. You down the last of the wine in the mug and stand up, picking up all your things and getting ready for bed. 

Little do you know, you’ve just wildly changed the course of your life.

While you’re asleep, a slow cloud of golden shimmery smoke begins to seep out from the lamp you placed on your dresser before sinking into bed and burrowing yourself under a mountain of blankets. 

A man emerges when the gold mist seems to have finally fully trickled out, building himself up from the cloud, becoming humanoid and corporeal. He is bare from the chest up, a golden chain around his hips marking the thing that holds him captive to the lamp and trapped under its control. His lower half is wearing loose baji brown trousers, the lower half of a hanbok that is the fashion of the Silla dynasty. It’s embroidered jeogori that’s a shiny silky white with gold embroidery is somewhere back in the lantern but he’s too lazy to get it now. Those are the clothes that he was entrapped in, so those are the clothes he is stuck in whenever he is kept inside the lamp. No one could blame him for whiling away his time in the vessel by choosing to slumber instead of waiting for himself to be let out again. 

Besides, as his gaze flickers over your modern style bedroom and he makes out a pile of clothing on top of a chair, he distinctly gets the feeling that he is no longer in the Joseon era, which was the last time he had been let out. Jungkook had gotten trapped in the lamp and turned into a genie when he was about 24, on the eve of his 25th birthday around 2,000 years ago, and has been paying for his mistake and the punishment that followed it ever since. In between that time and now though, he’s been let out of the lantern sporadically, over the centuries, every time it fell into the hands of someone who understood its power and wanted to make use of his abilities. 

But right now, his mistress is asleep and he is free, so he finds himself leaving the apartment, in search of what fashion and culture must be like in this weird modern time. He can’t escape her permanently, not when she has one wish left and his lamp in her possession, but he is free to wander while she’s not using him. It’s a little harder to define when and when she isn’t using him because of her second wish but since she’s unconscious right now it’s obvious that she cannot be requiring his presence currently. 

With nary but a thought, he’s suddenly on the streets in front of her apartment. He has no idea where he is; could this truly be Korea? Just because it’s past midnight doesn’t mean that the city is any less alive. He almost gets run over by a car, it’s impossible for him to get hurt given what he is, but his presence, with his feet over the line that separates the two lanes, spooks a driver who yells out a barrage of hateful language before manueving his gray SUV and driving around Jungkook’s body. Some of the comments are about a shirtless madman wandering the roads which makes Jungkook wince and even more impatient to get a change of clothes. They were not spoken in Korean which he won’t realize until later since he is gifted with omnilingual abilities that make him able to understand any and every language that exists or comes into being.

He wanders all the way to the shopping district where all the words are definitely not in Korean but using his mythical powers he’s readily able to translate them, understanding every language instantaneously. Whatever clothes he sees on the mannequins that he likes, he imagines them on himself and thus builds an entire wardrobe this way. His powers of manifestation come in handy giving him clothes that are perfectly tailored to fit his muscular frame which is paired with not only bulging biceps, broad shoulders, and thick thighs but a narrow waist too. He vastly prefers this power to his ability to make anything he wants be in his possession. Why not just make his own more perfect version than the store sizes of a men’s medium and large? Those cookie cutter sizes only account for his muscles but hide the rest of his body away under their expansive lengths of fabric. 

After his clothing shopping spree he sends all his creations back to his mistress’s home with a snap of his fingers and then begins his prowl for food. Genies don’t need sustenance and they can’t gain weight, though they can change their appearances if they wanted, but Jungkook loved food from his time as a human and he regularly uses his powers to let himself enjoy its taste, when he is out of his lamp, even though he can never make himself feel full.

His wanderings take him to a Korean restaurant that is open until dawn, and since food is the one thing he hates creating, he instead magicks himself the currency of this country, in this day and age, and bows to the ajumma who is working inside the establishment. He gets a table for one and orders a giant set of tteokbokki that has the maximum amount of heat allowed along with extra fish cakes and cheese, as well as three different kinds of Korean fried chicken: honey garlic, sweet and spicy, and barbeque, which are all flavors he has never heard of before, and finishes off with a clay pot of kimchi soondubu jiggae, a kimchi soft tofu stew. He only buys one beer knowing that the ajumma would get concerned over his tolerance if he had a dozen glasses.

When he’s done with all the food, he finds himself wistfully pining for the time when he was human and would have been truly able to not only enjoy but also appreciate this bountiful feast. After all, he had been born into a family of laborers, it’s why he had been able to grow so strong through hard manual work.

He finally returns to the apartment, but his work is not over. Unlike his mistress who can sleep blissfully having no idea what she had just done, Jungkook has long hours ahead of him to make her wish come to life in a way that seems believable and that she readily buys into by the time she wakes up. It’s not the hardest desire or demand he has ever had to complete but it will use a lot of his power, more than he’s used lately. And though he’s got an unexpendable amount of magic, he’s out of practice.

When you rouse the next morning, you can instantly tell that something is different and it immediately makes your hackles rise up. It’s more than just the smell of fried eggs, apple sausages, and maple syrup permeating the air of the apartment, making its way from the kitchen into the bedroom, though you know that you live alone and have no one to cook you such an amazing spread to wake up to. 

The air feels different, like the energy of the universe had shifted somehow. None of that makes any sense and yet somehow it also does. You don’t know what you mean when you think that but there is no other way that you can put this sense of unease into words. When you open your eyes and look across the room you see a male lounging against the wall wearing a street style look with black and gray FILA joggers and windbreaker covering the length of his long modelesque body; there’s a black bucket hat hiding his blond locks. 

You let out a loud scream immediately, terrified out of your wits, and instantly pull your comforter up to your chin even if you had gone to sleep in a pair of pajamas that covered you as though you were a nun. The male narrows his eyes at the shrill sound but the look is quickly shuttered away when a small pleasant smile takes over his face instead. 

He walks closer to you and murmurs, his doe eyes shining with the twinkle of stars from a million galaxies, “Are you okay, jagiya? I’m sorry for surprising you with breakfast this morning but I missed you. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday since I didn’t get the chance yesterday.”

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” you yelp, tightening your comforter even closer around your body, wrapping yourself up like a human burrito.

“Your lover, Jeon Jungkook,” the male calmly states, his eyes peering at you, not losing their shine as he looks at you like you had grown another head and are the crazy one amongst the two of you.

“I don’t have a lover named Jeon Jungkook,” you contradict, narrowing your eyes into slits full of suspicion. And if you did, you didn’t think you would call him your lover. Perhaps, your man, your boyfriend, or even your fwb though you weren’t really the type to dabble in such meaningless romps of pleasure, but not lover.

“Are you sure about that,” he silkily purrs, using his tattoo adorned hand to gesture to your gallery wall. 

Your eyes follow its path and you’re horrified to see the most adorable couple pictures, most of which appear to have been professionally photographed though some are cutely caught candids, of you and this ‘Jungkook’ together, staring into each other’s eyes lovingly while holding each other in an embrace that speaks volumes about passion and affection. 

“Would you like to check your phone,” suggests the male as well, his blond locks playing peekaboo with his bucket hat as his head turns towards your nightstand and he nods at the iPhone that had been charging on top of it. 

You instantly grab the device, unplugging it from the white charging cord and clutching it possessively to your chest before you finally work up the nerve to see what exactly he means. You swipe down to look at your lockscreen and it’s a live photo of Jungkook squishing his face into the side of your’s, rubbing the tip of his nose into the apple of your cheek softly. Mortified, you use facial recognition to gain further access into your phone and what you see leaves you even more bewildered. Your home screen is the most aesthetic that you’ve seen it: organized by using the IOS 15 feature. It’s blush pink and cream and the background image is a digitally manipulated picture of you and Jungkook looking into the bay from your perches on a bridge at the bottom of the image as the sky melts into a creamy pink color that's been altered to match the theme of your phone. 

At this point, you’re nervously holding onto your disbelief, so it’s with trepidation that you go into your camera roll to find hundreds upon hundreds of photos of Jungkook in an assortment of scenarios, from cute date night pics with you to dozens almost identical selfies where he’s trying out a variety of facial expressions from the same angle and in the same outfits to then even the embarrassing kinds that look like you took them on the down low when you thought he wasn’t looking. None of this makes any sense. But he looks so cute and kissable. You almost want to cry helplessly at the insanity of this all. What if he was your boyfriend? Life would be so much easier then.

You leap out of bed to go out to the front of the apartment and it’s even more confusing because there’s half a dozen pairs of chunky sneakers and boots with spiked soles that look like fashionable and weaponized soccer cleats on the shoe rack that’s by the front door— all belonging to designer brands and looking slightly threatening. It is clear that those shoes belong to a male, most likely this male, and they are all neatly organized to one side while your shoes, the shoes that you remember, are off to the other end. 

“This makes no sense,” you whine, rubbing your forehead frantically. Is this what hyperrealistic nightmares feel like? It seems as though you’ve been transported to the Twilight Zone in your opinion, and you just want to desperately get out.

“Would you like to call your mother and ask her about me?” Jungkook, his voice a smooth cadence as he unhelpfully directs the suggestion to your back. He had evidently followed you out back here. 

“What?”

“Your mother? We FaceTime her all the time. She’s really been pushing for me to pop the question for the last couple of months. Despite what she thinks, it’s really not that covert,” he scoffs, his lips flaring out into a pout. You note with bemusement that there is a small mole underneath the plush of his strawberry colored lower lip. How dare he have a mole in such a perfect location? Now your mind would never know peace until you dragged his lower lip between yours and sucked on that tiny chocolate chip. It’s actually deranged how your mind continuously chooses to flit between lust and rationality. 

“Jungkook?” Your voice takes on a shrill sound, “How long have we been dating?”

“As long as you want it to be.”

That doesn’t make any sense.

“Jungkook, please don’t mess around with me! How long have we been dating?” you demand more urgently. You are halfway to a full-blown panic attack and you need to calm down but nothing seems to be placating you about this entire situation.

The male walks around to step in front of you and then faces you head on. He keeps his hands to himself, crossing them while making sure that his fingers are folded and tucking into his armpits. He bends a little to look you in the eyes since he’s much taller, to peer carefully into your eyes that are slightly blown out from your constant state of shock and bewilderment. “Why didn’t it work?” he wonders.

“HAVE YOU BEEN GASLIGHTING ME?!”

“Well, not intentionally,” he muses, tapping a finger to his lip. God, even his hands are perfect. Each digit is long and tipped with neatly cut and perfectly clean fingernails. And they’re shiny too like he uses some type of cuticle oil. Not to mention how he’s got sexily protruding veins wrapping along the back of his hand and down to his wrist and arm.“I thought you’d be in on it. Could it be that it didn’t work on you even though it worked on everyone else in your life because you made the wish? My magic probably assumed that you didn’t need convincing since after all, this was what you wanted.”

Things make even less sense after his explanation even though Jungkook probably thought he was being helpful by providing it. Your eyes are narrowed in disbelief as you perturbedly shake your head.

“What are you talking about?” you hesitantly ask. You’re nervous because you’ve moved on from the idea that this is a hyperrealistic bad dream to the conspiracy theory that you have a crazy stalker who somehow figured out how to almost seamlessly integrate himself into your life and that he’s more than just the ordinary type of psychopath; this one seems like he’s the delusional type that thinks he has otherworldly powers. Wouldn’t that be just your luck: Jungkook is the first man you’ve been attracted to in months but he didn’t approach you like a normal person who wanted to pursue something.

Jungkook’s mouth takes on a pursed shape as he narrows his eyes at you, deep in thought; the coral red lips are scrunched together with the upper one flaring out. You can see the chocolatey brown mole right below them again and you are suddenly hit with the urge to kiss his lips until the frown is smoothed out.

“Do you have any idea what you even did last night?” he barks, his tone entirely too accusatory for your liking. One would think you had cheated on your imaginary boyfriend the evening before. He takes off his bucket hat in frustration and runs a hand through his blond locks, ruffling them. His jerky hand movements bring attention not only to the length of tattoos that encompass his arm but also its muscular veininess that had held you previously enraptured. You blink, you need to get dicked down soon. You wanted to give into Stockholm Syndrome way too easily for this man. Don’t do it, Y/N, no matter how hot Jungkook is, it’s scary that he’s in your house right now.

You rack your brain but come up woefully short. “I went to bed with only rosé as my dinner?” you hedge. You don’t think it’s that big of a deal although it’s definitely unadvisable to do. 

The male huffs, raising his right hand up before he snaps the fingers on that hand. A paper lantern appears, landing perfectly on his palm. Your eyebrows both raise because you recognize it immediately; it’s the lamp Safi had gifted you as your birthday present. 

“You made a wish for the perfect beau,” Jungkook explains patiently, “I made your wish come to life.”

“Can’t you undo it?” you push urgently. Why are you entertaining this mad man? Magic isn’t real, Y/N!

He excitedly quirks an eyebrow of his own, smirking as he takes in your look of bemusement. “Is that another wish?” he asks.

“No!” you swiftly interrupt. If you are in the Twilight Zone somehow, you need to be smart with how you navigate within this nightmare, at least until you figure out a way to wake yourself up.

“You only have one left, anyways,” he sasses tapping his plumper lower lip with his pointer and middle fingers, you’ve already noticed it’s a habit, rolling his big doe eyes, “I could kind of undo the effects of the wish by making its time constraint shorter so that it stops in the next five minutes but in my opinion, that’s just another wasted wish. So if I were you,” he says with a shrug, “personally I’d go along with it for the next ten days. We wouldn’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable but I would still be playing the role of the doting attentive paramour.”

You blink at him, your mind still sluggish from your wine hangover and terrible bout of sleep. “I only have one wish left?”

“Not the smartest of my mistresses or masters by a long stretch,” Jungkook agrees, teasing you, scrunching his nose to peer at you cutely. 

You gasp loudly, obviously affronted. Not the handsome weirdo calling you dumb. 

“Do I get three?” you question. Your mind is working on overtime today and it’s still taking you too long to understand things. You’d like to tell this Jungkook character that you graduated from the top university in the nation and have two degrees but you don’t think that he would believe you if you bragged and let that tidbit slip. 

“You do,” he nods, unhelpful as ever.

It kind of makes sense; you assume the purpose of genies is to manipulate their rulers into making all of their wishes as quickly as possible.

“Oh, you want me to tell you what your two used wishes were. Humans really are weak, aren’t they? Is your mind normally supposed to be so foggy after drinking so much?” He calls you out directly and you gasp; you suppose that genies don’t have manners. Or at least this one doesn’t, you glare at Jungkook’s untactfulness.

“I know one of them was to have you here,” as your boyfriend, you finish off in your head, too unnerved to say it out loud just in case that makes it more true, “but what was the one before it?”

“Oh! You wanted there to be light.” Fiat lux, look at you, and you thought you weren’t philosophical. 

You blink again. Nope, that doesn’t follow. You would never be so profound. What would a wish like that even mean to a genie? An increase in intelligence? For there to be less ignorant people in the world? Ah. Wait. You do vaguely remember thinking that it would be so nice if you had more light to see the markings on the lantern. But—

“I made my wish for a man on a shooting star,” you retort as a counterargument, trying to wheedle out of Jungkook’s covenant so that you’ll have an additional wish to add to your arsenal.

“Nice try,” snorts Jungkook. He’s probably listened to a thousand arguments by a thousand masters that have all tried to bargain and reason with him trying to manipulate him and exploit him for more wishes, “But I made that appear in the night sky. It was not fated to be there that night until I materialized it. It wasn’t real so it didn’t have the powers of a normal shooting star.”

“So shooting stars actually work?” 

He shrugs, “Sometimes. Wishes depend on the caster. Theoretically you can make a wish on a shooting star, a wishing well, your birthday, on a deity, etc. But you can rarely succeed at having a wish granted, much less by using the same method twice. And most people, if they’re lucky, only get to have one wish come true in their lifetime. It’s much more common for there to be no successful ones. Aren’t you lucky to have woken me up from my slumber,” he snarks, “you got three.”

“I made a birthday wish,” you faintly mutter rather dispiritedly.

He hears you anyways, “I don’t think it worked. Why not try again next year?” 

You ignore the snarkiness of his suggestion, “So you’re really my boyfriend for the next ten days.”

He nods. You squint at him, you still haven’t put your contacts on for the day and your glasses remain forgotten in your bedroom. 

“Can I ask you to do things? Like a girlfriend asks her boyfriend? Or does that count as a wish.”

“You can ask me anything. Whether or not I do anything is entirely up to me. I suppose I will be more courteous and mindful of your requests since I am playing the part of the perfect significant other. As long as it’s related to this wish, I will try my best to make it come to fruition for you. For example, if you wanted me to take you out for dinner on the rooftop of a skyscraper I probably would. If you wanted me to buy you a bunch of gifts or fill your rooms with flowers, I could do that too.”

“Why is it only ten days? I didn’t wish for ten days,” you inquire.

Jungkook smiles at you sheepishly, showing the first sign of less than suaveness. “As far as mistresses go, you’re not a selfish one but would you believe me if I told you that in the past only terrible people used to be able to draw me out of my lamp and make demands of me? As the years went by I added rules: only three wishes, no wishes have permanent effects, and only those pure of heart can awaken me, just to name a few.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say.

“In ten days, your life will go back to normal. And even though you will always remember this, it will become more and more dreamlike and disconnected from reality as time goes on. One day you might even come to the decision that you had made me up and that I was a figment of your imagination. No one can hold onto the idea that this was all real for too long.”

“So for this week, everyone in my life is convinced we’ve been together for a while but next week they won’t even have known I had a boyfriend?” you conclude.

“You’ll wake up on the eleventh morning like time hasn’t passed at all; it’ll be like it’s today all over again but without me in all those pictures that stand as proof of a shared, albeit fake, history,” Jungkook confirms.

“But what will happen to you?” you worry. 

“I’ll be sticking around unless you make your third wish before then.” He looks at you hopefully but you snort in retort. “When you make the third wish, I’ll go back into the lamp and it will disappear from your life before the process starts all over for me. I’ll probably be sleeping until I’m let out again.”

“I wasn’t the one who found you,” you frown. “My best friend gave it to me as a birthday present.”

Jungkook's eyes widen marginally but you don’t catch how the genie appears momentarily unnerved, he shrugs it off to you, feigning nonchalance, “That doesn’t really matter because you were the one that was able to let the lamp open.”

You hum but say nothing. You’re distracted by the magnificent bounty of breakfast food that Jungkook has arranged on your tiny square table for four, not that you ever had to use all four of the place settings at the same time. You make your way to the dining area, edging away from Jungkook and the conversation, but as expected, the male trails after you like a lost puppy. 

“Do you have any plans for how our day should progress, mistress?”

“Please stop calling me that,” you blush hotly. You are the subbiest sub ever so it’s discomforting to hear you being referred to in such a manner even if it’s not in a sexual context.

“What would you like to be called instead?” Jungkook inquires, altruistically.

“Let’s just stick to my name for now,” you mutter, placing two fried eggs on your plate before going for the waffles. Jungkook should be glad you’re such a benevolent holder of the lamp, he says you’re pure of heart but you don’t know about all that, all you do know is, you won’t make Jungkook’s life any harder than it needs to be for the next ten days.

A light smirk paints Jungkook’s lips as he takes the seat opposite to you. “We can make our way to pet names and terms of endearment as the days progress.”

You choke, coughing and sputtering as a square of waffle gets lodged in your throat. But as your eyes water up, widening from pain and surprise, Jungkook smoothly waves his hand in a flippant manner in your direction and the waffle disappears immediately.

Gasping for air you ask, “Does this mean that when you’re finally gone I’ll be going back to choking and die a painful death?”

Jungkook scoffs, “Only the wishes I make come true for my masters have limits to them. And it’s a recent development I made to curb their usually evil desires. I’m very powerful. Everything I do has permanent effects. It’s why I’m locked up any time I don’t have an owner.”

You blink, gobsmacked. Somehow his arrogance is terribly sexy and it makes your pussy throb. 

On the first day, following breakfast, Jungkook makes the two of you disappear and reappear in Malta for an island vacation and date. You’re in a panic, claiming that you can’t be in a foreign country without any identification, money, or clothes. But the male just rolls his eyes at your antics and reminds you just who exactly has been cast to play the role of your picture perfect boyfriend. 

You side-eye him now. He is walking slightly ahead of you to the left so that there is space left for you to walk beside him if you want to catch up but you can’t make up your mind if you want to. His blond hair is trapped under yet another black bucket hat which makes you wonder if he hates the pale color of his locks and he’s wearing a black Hawaiian shirt with white hibiscuses creating an artfully arranged pattern. His black board shorts have a 5 inch inseam and you’re wondering how it is that this thousands-of-years old mythical being dresses like an emo alt boy. Not that you know what two out of those three words mean. You assume it’s like a vibe from what the gen z college students that appear in your office tell you. Jungkook looks just like them. 

You’ve been wheedling Jungkook to reveal details about his own life but the individual has managed to remain tight-lipped thus far. He runs ahead to a street vendor to excitedly buy you a sandwich. The round leavened bread has a filling of potatoes, capers, tomatoes, and mozzarella. He hands you one of the diagonally cut slices before bringing the other half to his mouth.

You hold it in your hand bemusedly, at a loss of what to do with it. You had quite literally finished the meal he had prepared for you half an hour ago. Side-eyeing him once again, this time enviously, you sigh; you can’t eat like he does because unlike him you do not have magical powers and if he continues to feed you like this, you’ll gain 30 pounds by the end of the 10 days. And you could ask him to keep you from gaining weight but that would probably count as a third wish instead of being an extension of his boyfriendly duties.

“Are you ready to see our lodgings?” he asks, a droplet of olive oil, that the sandwich had practically been doused in, glistening on his perfectly coral colored Cupid’s bow.

You give him a look that wordlessly states ‘lead the way,’ and follow him as your walk takes the two of you before a two story condo located on the waterfront. 

“Can I ask you a question,” you start off.

Jungkook interrupts you immediately, knowing just where your head was going, “I did not make the apartment appear out of midair. It was conveniently empty and I planted a thought in the owner’s head that he had rented it to us.”

Okay first of all, that was not what you were going to ask. “Are you going to pay him?” you demand self-righteously.

“Why?” Jungkook deadpans, “The timeline will be reset soon enough.”

“I was actually going to ask you,” you tread carefully, though apparently not delicately enough because the male’s hackles start to rise and his gaze turns into one that is more filled with suspicion and distrust. You plow ahead anyways and repeat, “I wanted to ask you why you were going along with this.”

“Because it is your wish.” He says it with such simplicity, his face as expressionless as his tone.

You sigh frustratedly, “Yes but—am I making you uncomfortable? You don’t have to pretend to be my lover. I have to admit I wasn’t thinking that this would happen when I made that wish.”

“So, did you have a male in mind then?” Jungkook’s expression turns even more grim as he shutters away his emotions. His large dark brown eyes are impassive for the first time since you’ve met him and you’re starting to miss the shine of those doelike lenses.

“Well, no. But, if I wanted my fake boyfriend to be Kim Namjoon, could you do that?”

“Who is Kim Namjoon?” He sounds so affronted, unable to believe that you could prefer anyone to him. Huh. You had the feeling that Jungkook was a cocky self-aggrandizing genie but you hadn’t realized how much until now.

“My celebrity crush.”

“What is a ‘celebrity’?”

You stare at him blankly, “So you weren’t out in the twentieth century either, huh?” 

When he frowns at you, those cute lips of his curving down, you hurriedly tack on, “It doesn’t matter, anyways. I just asked because, well— We don’t have to be ‘lovers,’” you quote Jungkook from earlier on in the day. “What if we just hung out as friends for the next ten days?”

“I would like that,” admitted Jungkook. “Although I’m not sure if that actually fulfills your wish.”

“Why not?” you pout. “What was the explicit wording of my wish, anyways?”

Jungkook looks away without answering you and then wordlessly marches towards the front door of the condo, expecting you to follow. 

The inside of the two storied structure is very rustic but clean. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of clutter, which you appreciate, but you wouldn’t call it minimalistic. It had a beachy European vibe to it with furniture pieces that had probably seen their prime in design in the late 90s. You actually like the old school feel of the place; it makes it feel more authentic. The place has about four bedrooms but Jungkook tells you that the two rooms the two of you will be sharing are right next to each other. 

When you walk into the place where you’ll be sleeping tonight, you are met by the sight of a white painted metal bed frame that has a lot of curlicues making up the headboard. The bedding looks comfy and clean which is always nice and the box springs and mattress look relatively new, providing a nice height and plumpness to your bed. There’s a massive pile of shopping bags and boxes stacked against the wall and you can only wonder if your attractive genie companion had gone into the trouble of making sure you would have a variety of clothes and necessities on this trip.

As you fiddle through the tissue paper hiding the contents of a bright orange Louis Vuitton bag, you are puzzled how Jungkook is both on top of and out of the loop when it comes to the 21st century. The male is on top of fashion but not famous people and you wonder what else he knows or is woefully oblivious about. You put on a cute russet brown bikini set that looks gorgeous on your honeyed skin; there is a large gold hoop connecting the two halves of your top as well as two matching hoops on the sides of your hips. You are currently pulling on a pair of Louis Vuitton shorts with cute pockets that are lined with a gold colored zipper and are almost the exact same shade of brown as your swimming suit but covered by the familiar and iconic pattern of interlocking LV’s with flowers in white, teal, orange, and light brown, just about having buckled in the cute strappy belt that comes with it when your door is unceremoniously thrust open. 

You stand, jaw slackened in surprise, as Jungkook walks into the room looking so colorful that you blink to make sure it’s actually him. His hair is now the pinkish red color of cherries and he's wearing a yellow T-shirt that has an opened shirt that looks like a white baseball tee over it, though the fabric is more airy and lightweight; the sleeves of his yellow top are tucked into the sleeves of the white one. He’s wearing navy blue swimming trunks and you love that he turned out to be the type of male that sticks to 5-7 inch inseams rather than wearing shorts that go down super low and cover his knees like you know so many men in your acquaintance to do. It baffles you; don’t they realize how ugly it makes their outfits look? 

Jungkook snaps his fingers to make a pair of black Ray-Bans with gold frames cover your eyes to match the ones tucked into his soft red hair and you notice the multitude of beaded bracelets adorning his wrist. 

“I haven’t gone to the beach in years,” you proclaim excitedly. 

Now that you two have settled that he’s a genie and you’re his mistress who gets to call all the shots, there is a sense of calm over the two of you and this wayward situation that you’ve thrusted the two of you into. He’s not acting the role of your boyfriend. He’s just someone you’re on vacation with and it makes it so much easier to relax when you keep that in mind. 

You eagerly reach out to grab his large hand in your much smaller one to tug him along with you, back outside of the condominium so that you two could eventually make your way to the beachfront. The male gives in easily, he engulfs his hand with yours and you can feel its warm heat cupping you comfortably. You give him a happy smile and proceed to pull him along with you which is much easier said than done because Jungkook finds it hilarious to drag his feet and stand his ground on the gravelly cobblestone streets so that he can laugh at your feeble attempts at strength as you try to move him. 

Jungkook is bored at the beach. You scowl at him. He’s being a party pooper, acting like a black hole that’s bringing down your excitement and sucking it all in. He has no idea how to relax. You had told him as much when he sighed as he sat down next to you in the little area you made him create for the two of you. There’s a cute blanket for the two of you to lie on and an umbrella if you no longer want to be in the sun. You even got him to materialize some books for you (you just had to tell him the author and title) but from the looks of his displeased frown when he discovered that nearly all of the books have raunchy covers, Jungkook’s not thrilled about your little omission. 

You glower at him. The blanket is massive with enough space for the two of you, yet Jungkook sits so close beside you that you’re almost halfway to the sand as you hover near the edge of the cloth. You slip your shorts off and put it on one of the beach chairs next to the two of you before flopping down again. You turn your body around so that you are facing the beach as you lie on your stomach, your elbows propping you up so you can read the third book of the Bridgertons series. 

“God, Jungkook,” you goad, “If you’re not going to do anything, can you apply my sunscreen on me?” It’s in the little tote you have with you.

Jungkook scrunches up his face as he scrutinizes you from behind the lenses of his matching black sunglasses. You had to put yours back on your head because you couldn’t read anything with how dark they made the page appear. “Why don’t you put sunscreen on me first?” 

“Jungkook, you don’t need sunscreen!” you whine. “You’re a genie. You don’t have to worry about the dangers of skin cancer and UV rays.”

“It’s amazing how often I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muses as he huffs at you, going into your bag to pull out the sunscreen.

Perhaps because he’s unused to applying sunscreen on, you doubted the Joseon era (which was the last time he had been out) Koreans did because you were pretty sure it was invented in the early 1940s, he squirts what feels like half the bottle on your back. You screech at the cold aqueous feeling of the liquid as it trails down your figure approaching the barriers of your cute bikini top. 

“Jungkook!” you yelp. “Untie my clothes! It’s going to ruin them and leave ugly chalky marks on the fabric, you asshole! And you’re supposed to blend it into my skin so there’s no white cast.”

Jungkook places his hand against your back, cupping the deliquescent lotion and trapping it beneath his massive palm. One handedly, he undoes the tie to your brown string bikini, leaving your back bare as the cloth protects your minimal modesty in the front only. Ignoring what you had said about getting your bottoms ruined, he doesn't remove them, though you have no idea why. There’s not anyone near you on this long stretch of the coast. Instead, he just tugs it halfway down your ass. 

He moves his body so that his knees are straddling you on either side but since he’s lightly perched on your thighs, your uncovered ass is mere centimeters away from his crotch and when he moves to make sure that his hands are covering every inch of your revealed body with the sun block, you swear you can feel something large poking you at times.

His touch is feather light as his fingertips ghost along your back making you arch into him. His finger traces along your spine, making you keen lightly as you bite down on your lower lip to keep him from hearing you. His palms knead at the knots in your body as you still at the sensations he is pulling from your body. He’s being perfectly respectful, his hands stay on the length of your back, not moving under to canvas your breasts or slip down your hips or drift along the plump curve of your ass, yet somehow you are still mindless under his dexterous palms. 

Your eyelashes flutter closed, your eyes no longer able to focus on Benedict Bridgerton’s love story, as Jungkook massages the white cream into your skin with his strong hands. The male pulls his lip between his bunny teeth as he frowns when he hears your attempts to conceal the sounds that he is coaxing out of you. 

“Jungkook,” you pant out nervously, fearing how much further this can go if you don’t put a wise stop to it now. 

“Hmm?”

“I can do my legs,” you suggest. 

“Ah okay, Y/N,” he agrees. “But do you really want to spend the whole day reading that?” 

His face is twisted into a grimace as he glares at the upside down book you half opened to hold its place. 

“What do you want to do?” you ask getting up from the blanket and grabbing the bottle of sunscreen before squirting some on your hands to go over all the areas Jungkook hadn’t gotten around to.

“Do you want to go scuba diving?”

“Have you ever gone scuba diving?” 

“Of course not,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “But I’ll try everything once.”

He whisks you two away to the Maltese island of Comino once you’re ready to call it quits at the beach. When you’re finally with the group of people who are getting ready to scuba dive with the instructor, suiting up and paying attention to the directions so they’re safe as they start to explore the reefs, lagoons, and underwater caves, you start to panic.

“Jungkook,” you mumble, edging closer to him and tiptoeing so you can whisper into his ear. The male turns his head to look at you, moving closer and instantly stooping down so you can easily state your piece. “Jungkook, I don’t feel comfortable scuba diving.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Y/N.” God, did you wish for the perfect boyfriend or what? Maybe drunk off her ass Y/N had something going for her. Even before, you had been tempted to make things get sexual as he was running those powerful hands over your pliant body, but you had managed to barely control yourself and keep yourself from shoving Jungkook down on the sand to climb over his body. It had been so nice of him to do that for you, very boyfriend, or as Jungkook would probably say, lover-like.

“Yes, I know,” you pause, deep in thought, before you continue, “but I don’t want you to limit your enjoyment because you’re so busy looking over me, trying to keep me from accidentally killing or maiming myself. Can we like do something a little more tame... like snorkeling? I don’t want to go so deep into the water.”

He gives into you easily, it doesn’t even take him a second to think about what you’re asking from him, and he readily transports the two of you onto a boat where a snorkeling class has already began to put on their masks and flippers before they make their ways to the edge of the boat to jump off. 

After watching the humans struggle putting on the equipment for ten or even fifteen minutes each, Jungkook decides it’ll just be easier if he does it for you so you don’t have to worry about if anything was worn improperly or unsafely.

He thinks you look adorable with the giant clear goggles; your long mane of hair squishes to your skull where the straps of the mask are pressing into your head and the lenses magnify your eyes making them look cute albeit a little bug-like. He quietly commands you to stop fiddling around with the snorkel; he knows you’re worried but he doesn’t want you to mess around with the pipe and accidentally disconnect what Jungkook had correctly set up for you. You’re waddling a bit in your large black and indigo flippers, attempting to pull your shorts off and get the holes through your suddenly enormous feet. You trip and Jungkook catches you, holding you against his bare chest because he had gotten rid of his clothes as well so he would only be in his swimming trunks.

“You okay?” he softly inquires, keeping you trapped within the heat of his comforting embrace. 

You can only squeak your reply, distracted about how his massive palms are so warm and almost entirely encapsulate your waist as he holds you up against him. There is something cool and metallic digging into your skin and your hand brushes against it. Was Jungkook wearing a waist chain? The male flinches away from your hold, stepping back instantly. 

“No need to worry about the jump or the water being too cold,” Jungkook murmurs, blatantly ignoring whatever had happened seconds ago, “I’ve got you.”

And in a flash, the two of you are underwater, surrounded by so much clean liquid that you can enjoy the greenish blue hue of the ocean and yet make out everything with such clarity. 

You frown when you notice that though Jungkook put on flippers he didn’t have a mask covering his face and making him look as distorted and ugly as you felt. It was so unfair; you have to look unattractive so you can breathe and not die submerged in the sea but Jungkook looks like a model with the water lifting his red locks and making them swirl around his head. Though he doesn’t want your eyes to focus on his waist, your gaze is immediately drawn to it, shifting their focus from the clean cut muscled edges of his eight pack, just barely able to make out the gold band that sits snugly around his bronzed skin, kept in place by the minimal flare to his hips, due to how your vision is slightly warped and distorted by your goggles. 

Jungkook reaches out to grab your hand, his long fingers wrapping themselves around your delicate wrist and he gently pulls you towards him, his lengthy legs swiftly flapping along as he propels his body around the water, taking you on his guided tour for one. Swimming side by side with Jungkook, you follow him deeper into the half submerged caves of St. Maria, your eyes taking in the mesmerizing schools of snappers and sea bream swimming around, ducking in and out of view when they travel around sandbars. You flinch into yourself, pulling away from Jungkook when you see a moray eel but the male just giggles, air bubbles releasing from his mouth as his chortles continue, his red hair a darkened burgundy cloud around his ears. He softly tugs you back to him and pursues on with the two of yours sea adventure. 

You gasp and clap excitedly when you see several cuttlefish and even a sand colored octopus, eagerly pointing it out to Jungkook, who only smiles when he notices your hand slip out of his again and then swims closer to the octopus to ooh and aah over it. Eventually, the snorkeling guide asks for everyone to come back onto the boat so that they can direct it over to a ship wreckage where you all will be allowed to go back into the sea to get a closer glimpse at the German minesweeper. 

The rusting boat is a little deeper than expected and you find yourself hesitantly waddling your legs in the water to keep yourself in the same unmoving position, while the rest of your class energetically flaps their legs to swim towards the ship, swimming further into the depths of the Maltese sea. Jungkook looks back at you from where he had gone to follow the crowd, his lips jutting out as he purses his lips, deep in contemplation. 

His eyes narrow as he looks at you consideringly though you’re absentminded in your persisting fear and have not become aware of his gaze in your direction yet. He smoothly paddles back to you, holding you with his warm palm pressed against the small of your back. You look up at him and shiver. 

Do you want me to help you? You know I wouldn't let you drown or have anything bad happen to you? You purposefully screw and unscrew your eyes shut, trying to make sense that this powerful genie possesses the ability to broadcast his thoughts into your mind because the two of you can’t speak in water. He probably has a more equipt way of dealing with that too but was choosing to exert less energy.

You nod brusquely and the male transports the two of you right by the wreckage where the rest of the class are enthusiastically swimming around and admiring the ruins of the World War II ship. Jungkook gently presses on your lower back pushing you forward to encourage you to explore the minesweeper on your own but you back up pressing yourself into his front, not even leaving an inch of space in between you. 

He looks down at you indulgently, tucking one of your wildly floating locks of hair behind your ear, as his hand moves away, it caresses the side of your cheek, making its way down. As you let out a longing sigh, he grips the underside of your jaw, tilting your chin up so he can remove the mouthpiece to your snorkel before he swoops down to capture your lips with his.

You’ve been yearning for his kiss since the moment you woke up and found your eyes enraptured by those pillowy coral colored lips, and Jungkook does not disappoint. They taste like mint chapstick and coffee as he hauls your body against his, one of his brawny arms locking you into his hold while the other works its way up while he winds his fingers through the drenched locks of your hair. As you continuously gasp in between every short kiss he slots over your lips, your hands travel across his broad shoulders and impressive back where you can feel flexing bundles of muscles beneath your fingertips. 

Tiring of the small abrupt pecks, Jungkook pulls you up, your legs instinctually wrapping around his hips as you meet him for a more impassioned kiss. You enthusiastically part your mouth, welcoming him and his tongue licks its way into that wet cavern, twining around your tongue as you both fight for control. You’re weak to the way that his lips mold against yours with its firm pressure, fitting against you perfectly. As you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tight, Jungkook moves his hands to cup your ass, fitting you more perfectly against him. He gropes your butt fervently as your fingers snake themselves into his luscious locks. 

You can feel his curious wandering hands roving across the planes of your body as you lean deeper into the kisses, gasping when Jungkook releases you to let you catch your breath. But even then, your lips are still attached to his as he busies himself with nibbling on your plump bottom lip, not wanting to waste a single second. His fingers find themselves into the hidden space between your cheeks, gripping on them softly to spread them more apart and then he runs his index finger across the seam, traveling from your clenching asshole to your fluttering core. Your pussy gushes more and more with his every pass over it, not that he can tell with you both underwater. But surely he can sense that your clit is becoming more sensitive and engorged with the minimal simulation, eager for more. His fingernail catches on that little bud his next pass over and you moan loudly against his lips before accidentally biting down on the lower one impassionately. 

When the two of you break apart, he leans his forehead against your nape, licking over his bitten lip tasting the faint flavor of iron and sea salt. It stings a little, if he wants to be completely honest. But with a simple burst of his powers, the pain is gone and since Jungkook already has his face pressing against your neck, he uses the opportunity to dart his tongue into the shallow pools of your collar bones, lapping at them softly, his tongue moving across your throat to manipulate whines and keens out of you. Even as he does this, his focus is split and he finds himself nudging your copper colored bikini bottom to the side as he reveals your pussy folds to one of his questing hands. 

Jungkook grows daring as he nudges at your pussy with nimble fingers, thumbing your clit and pressing down hard enough to make you wail. His fingers dart across the furled petals leading to your throbbing core and he ghosts those appendages, letting you feel the sudden sensation of fullness before it’s swiftly gone like you imagined it. You’re writhing in his arms, sound travels differently in the ocean but he selfishly doesn’t want anyone to see your eyes rolling backwards as your mouth opens wide in an ahegao type expression. 

A red flush covers your tanned skin, travelling from your décolletage to your throat and Jungkook finds himself capturing your chin in his firm grasp. His thumb swipes at your lips repeatedly until you finally part them so he can shove it inside all whilst jutting two fingers in and out of your cunt deliciously. You gag around the appendage, saliva trailing down your lips and painting the sides of your mouth as you struggle to acclimate your body to the brutal and hectic pace of how he thrusts his fingers in and out your folds. 

With Jungkook’s promise to keep you safe, you don’t have to worry about sputtering and choking on salty sea water, instead you’re doing so on his thick fingers which are a pale and slim imitation to how his cock will feel in your mouth. With your focus so frayed and with him dead set on making you go mindless with lust, Jungkook turns his focus to his mouth, nipping his way down the neglected column of your throat, until he gets to your cleavage. Jungkook chooses to bite down on that golden circle connecting the two halves of your skimpy bikini, pulling at it with his bunny teeth before letting go again to have the swimwear bounce against your skin, stimulating your nipples and making them harden into beads. He kisses and tongues your breasts through the moisture resistant fabric, growling in frustration at its thickness that inhibits his abilities to inflame you even further. He nabs it between the hold of his clenched teeth and tugs, pulling at your top until only one cup is left maintaining your precarious modesty. 

With one of your breasts free from the cloth, Jungkook wastes no time to wrap his lips around it’s stiffened tip. His agile tongue swirls itself around, laving the hardened bud, and he gently nibbles at it, making you reflexively nip at his thumb. He has you wrapped around him both figuratively and literally, and he divides his attention, never forgetting to incite your pulsating pussy with forceful pumps of his appendages as he sucks on your breasts and lets you suck on the fingers to his other hand. There’s something about gagging on Jungkook’s tatted digits that has you raggedly inhaling through your nose and falling apart at the seams at all the attention your body is under. 

When you finally cum, you sag against him; your top is halfway down your abdomen and one of its straps is dangling by your elbow. Your eyes are still blown out from lust but you’ve calmed down somewhat though you're desperately trying to catch your breath, counting on Jungkook’s inexhaustible strength to hold you up beside him. You seem to be completely unaware of your surroundings and how the other snorkelers swim closer to the two of you since you are both breathless and a little disoriented from the heated kisses, and more, that followed.

Fortunately for your unsettled self, the male isn’t standing idle as you are, trying to make sense of your surroundings. He fixes your bottom so that it no longer digs into your soft curves and repositions it so that your pussy is completely covered. You float in the water and let him manhandle you like you’re his pretty doll, letting him secure up your bikini so your breasts are no longer exposed. He even reties it in the back for you before he puts your snorkel back onto your mouth. But as he does so, he bites on his lower lip, sucking his cheeks in as his eyes hold a glimmer of something that he’s trying to hide from you.

You irately raise your eyebrows at him as he finally lets out the laughter he had been holding in, in the form of a breathy chuckle. Sorry, it’s nothing, his thoughts are once again intruding your mind, it’s just I forgot you were wearing your cute goggles, that’s all!

Immediately you are still as mortification takes over your body, a frown adorning your features. And just like that, the moment is broken and you are no longer under his spell. 

In the afternoon, you two walk around the beachfront of where your condo lies, tired after scuba diving and wanting to engage in some low level, minimal effort tourism. Well, you’re tired; Jungkook has a boundless expanse of energy. He’s like an excitable puppy who takes on everything he sees as if it’s his first life although you know it’s not. But you suppose, if you were kept in a prison regularly for upwards of hundreds of years without any idea when your next chance at freedom was, you too would make the most of every opportunity that presented itself to you. 

Jungkook claps every time you pick up something that suits you and immediately buys it for you, flitting between acting the role of a supportive best friend and a sexy sugar daddy, but you’re into it, enraptured by the duality that suits him, giving him a cute glow to his dark brown doe eyes. After you end up with too many souvenir bracelets and little knick knacks, even a little pouch to hold your phone and money, though you aren’t likely to call anyone or need to spend any money during the next ten days, you cut Jungkook off from getting you anything more. You beg off for a chance to relax, maybe even take a midday nap which isn’t something you’ve done since you were in high school, before getting ready to go to the night time date that Jungkook promises will be even more spectacular. 

It’s about 6pm, and you’re all glammed up for your date with Jungkook. He’s taking his job of wooing you super seriously. You dimly wonder whether all genies are as competitive as Jungkook, striving for a 100% satisfaction guaranteed (which he certainly had done in the turquoise water earlier in the day). You had asked him about it during one of the rounds to the small kiosks around the open air bazaar, if you got to fill out a customer service report at the end of this entire experience. The male had narrowed his eyes at you, a slandered look of affront taking over his face as he wound up his arms together tightly and pointedly stalked away from you.

He seems to have mellowed out however. You could have sworn you heard him singing lightly as he went around his room, immersed in his tasks, talking to inanimate objects like the Disney character that he was. However Jungkook is a little bit petty, and had decided to withhold the location of your date tonight from you which left you with no idea of what dress code to aim for. 

You think you did pretty well, all things considered.

Your thick locks have been washed to get rid of all the salt that clung to them after your snorkeling excursion and you have it slicked back into a sleek half up half down hairdo that doesn't have a single hair out of place. Meanwhile, your makeup features smokey eyes and dark currant colored lips since you wanted your glam look to have an edge to it. 

Your outfit is made out of the contents of the packages and shopping bags that Jungkook had lined the wall of your room with, earlier in the day. You’re wearing a skin clinging Versace mini dress with a plunging neckline that barely covers your ass and is covered in glittery burgundy colored sequins. It makes your rack look fabulous which is only being held up with some nude bra pads, sticky tape, and sheer pleas for divine intervention. Meanwhile, your ass looks scrumptious and perky like you just got a BBL on this Maltese vacation. There are long strappy black Saint Laurent heels wrapping around your legs and lengthening the limbs making you look like an Amazonian queen. Gold Harry Winston hoops adorn your ears with a slim gold chain from the brand dipping into your cleavage while an assortment of rings from Chanel and Cartier adorn your fingers and offset the gold love bracelet banging against your left wrist. To put it simply, you look like a Goddamn fucking catch. 

After making sure that every detail to your look is perfect as you gaze into the full length mirror in your room and attempt tugging on the skirt of the Versace dress one more time, you leave your room to knock on the door to Jungkook’s room that is right beside it. 

The male opens it instantly, almost like he was waiting for you to knock and his jaw slackens a little as he takes in the full, lethal, image of you in your micro mini, with the tumbling dark locks of hair falling over your shoulder and your legs looking like they would look perfect over his shoulders with the strappy sandals still on, their thin stiletto heels digging into his back as he pounded you into blissful nirvana.

Like always, you remain oblivious to Jungkook’s ravenous and coveting glances. Mostly, it’s because you are similarly distracted. His hair is no longer cherry red or the blond that you think is its default; rather, Jungkook has long cobalt colored locks that get darker towards the roots framing his face suavely. He stands in front of you looking gloriously tall as he wears a slightly loose fit dark colored blazer that reveals a white tucked in shirt underneath and black cargo joggers to soften the formal look to his outfit. His black Prada Chelsea boots make him tower over you with their giant imposing soles. He has a few earrings in and a silver chain hanging from his neck that makes you wonder if it will clink against your nude body if the night ends with another bout of heated sexual exploration. When he offers you his hand, you notice that he has a few bands adorning his fingers as well. 

You allow yourself to get pulled into his embrace. He tucks you against his chest, your bare back hitting the soft cotton of his T-shirt, the fabric is so thin that you can easily feel the heat of his body and more importantly, every hard ridge of muscle. The waist chain is there too and you have figured out that it is probably what keeps Jungkook bound under the lamp’s control. No wonder he hates it.  

His arm is securely pressed against your waist, squeezing you lightly. He’s in a good mood and you are too. You’ll just ignore the fact that he’s an immortal and that he’s not actually yours. You two can play pretend for nine more days. While you sigh and your eyes softly shutter shut in contentment, he dips his chin into the hollow of your collarbone before he whisks the two of you away to the dinner that he had planned for the two of you.

You blink in confusion as you take in the new sight. 

The sky is turning purplish blue in the evening and from the looks of it Jungkook has just taken you to an empty construction site. There’s nothing but excavators, front loaders, and a bulldozer in your vicinity. The skeletal metal outline of a partially made building explains the presence of the class 8 vehicles. 

You gingerly step out of Jungkook’s hold, walking a full ten feet away before turning back towards him. Your head is cocked and your freezing fingers are gripping your hips as you place your hands on them. “Can you kill your master?” you whisper yell back at him hesitantly, “Is that allowed?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes before he scoffs, “No, it isn’t. Not that I would want to,” he side eyes you, “yet, anyway.” 

He says it lightly as a joke, obviously, but you let out a dry laugh of, “Ha. Ha. Ha,” to match his heinous sounding cackles as you glare back at him, full of indignation as you hold your ground, extremely nonplussed. 

“Get over here, will you?” he hisses, “Our date isn’t even here; it’s over there.” 

He points to a crane on the left and you squint in the direction, still baffled. “I don’t get it.”

Jungkook sighs with displeasurement before he transports in front of you and grabs you by the waist again. Within seconds you are transported to what appears to be a dinner table attached to a crane and Jungkook has already gotten you seat belted and safely harnessed into your seat. And to your even greater surprise, his comfy blazer is covering your arms, enveloping your body and keeping you warm as Jungkook’s discernible scent of delicate florals and rich sandalwood overwhelm your senses. 

He sits next to you because the table is long and rectangular and this is the only way to be close to each other. You have to twist your body to the left to face him but you don’t find yourself minding when you notice that there is a lovely grin on his kissable mouth and a lock of dark blue hair falling into his face that he doesn’t move away. The waiters as well as the safety instructors of this sky high restaurant suddenly reappear, from wherever it was that they were hiding, to bustle around the two of you, breaking the spell you had been under, hypnotized by Jeon fucking Jungkook. 

They fill up your wine glasses with a 1967 Burgundy and water, placing two baskets between the two of you that hold a variety of French breads. Jungkook gazes into your eyes from beside you, his palm pressed against his cheek. “Anything you want to try?”

You blink, flustered, as you take on the brunt of the heat from those glowing chocolatey orbs. You don’t think you have ever been in such close proximity to Jungkook while under such a thorough perusal. Your eyes immediately slide down and you focus your attention onto the menu that had been placed before you. Almost all of it is in French. 

You happily hum when you notice there is seafood, choosing to order the Moules-frites, mussels on a shallot and white wine sauce with shoestring fried potatoes. You murmur your request to Jungkook and he calls the waiter over to tell him your desire for seafood. Perhaps inspired by you, he orders salmon en papillote with beurre blanc, sauce vierge and sauteed asparagus. It sounds fancy but it’s just salmon wrapped in parchment paper that Jungook cuts open in front of you with a side of tomatoes dressed with vinaigrette, the French white butter sauce and asparagus. 

The two of you dig into your meals vigorously and you almost forget that you’re on a date as you sigh after every bite of the scrumptious meal that brings tears to your eyes over how amazing it tastes. 

Jungkook chuckles softly next to you, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so happy.” There is almost a wistful tone to his remark.

You lick a drop of the white wine sauce off your lip before tapping your mouth with a cream colored cloth napkin. “Well, you’ve only known me for about a day,” you tease. “But I love food.”

“I do too,” admits Jungkook. You knew that. You had spent more time around food and eating today than you did over most weekends that you had off. And it was always so much food. If anything, you would’ve been surprised if he had said he hated eating and that it was just a necessary task he had to partake in to continue to be alive like some of the gym bros you knew. This time the wistfulness of his tone is more evident and you easily catch it in his words. 

“You can’t enjoy food?” you inquire, sharply. You’re aghast. You could never imagine living such an abhorrent half-life. This was primarily one of the reasons that you were anti-Edward during the Twilight craze of the 2010s. You would never give up on the pleasures that came from eating to exchange it for a life of drinking only blood for sustenance.

“I don’t need to eat food to survive,” admits Jungkook forlornly, “I can’t enjoy it at all; it's just mastication for me. Like I’m chewing on sawdust covered in spices. But I still do it. It’s the only way to remind me of my humanity. And it looks so good. I can smell it but it tastes like nothing much and I can’t savor it at all.”

You quirk an eyebrow silently. This was the first hint you had gotten into Jungkook’s person. He used to be human once upon a time. You don’t want to rock the boat so you don’t hedge for more details. 

“That’s horrible,” you cry out instead, visibly livid on his behalf. “Would it help if I ate for the both of us?” 

He laughs again and pushes his salmon towards you, “Only because I know how much you adore seafood. You won’t be able to get the wine or dessert away from me though,” he warns. 

You just grin at him and he returns a lopsided one at you, his eyes crinkle at the corners softening his gaze as his dimples make an appearance for the first time. You gawk at him, mesmerized by his gorgeous features. He’s so handsome. You wonder if he was this handsome before he was a genie or if being a genie amped up his attractiveness so you would fall under his lure like a siren with her prey. Nah, with your luck Jungkook was probably born looking like Adonis. 

You two eat in comfortable company, the conversation ebbing and flowing freely. You tell Jungkook about your job as an admissions counselor and the terrible guilt you feel when you can’t help one of your students accomplish their dreams of graduating from one of the best four year universities in the nation. Jungkook oohs and aahs while also making sounds of dismay at the appropriate moments. He’s a great listener; he’s super involved in the conversation and makes you feel important as though what you’re sharing deserves to get heard. You’re not sure how much of it is an act he’s putting on for your benefit to fulfill your wish and how much of it is him going above and beyond, but you greatly appreciate it. Today might just be the best day of your life. You’ve been treated like a queen the entire time. 

In exchange for sharing your little anecdotes you beg Jungkook to share something with you to keep the repartee going. With a groan he gives into you, and animatedly chats to you about the time he had a vampiress find his lamp.

You gasp loudly, “Vampires aren’t real Jungkook!” you can’t stop laughing. It’s a good thing you weren’t chewing because you would have spit out your fancy dinner all over the pristine white table cloth.

He wags his eyebrows at you with a cocky smirk painting his lips, “Oh? Are you sure? I mean I’m a genie, Y/N. It would make sense for there to be other magical beings besides me. I wasn’t born into existence as a genie, I was created.”

“Yeah,” you murmur softly, is this your moment to ask Jungkook how it had all begun? “Jungkook, I—”

 “Monsieur, mademoiselle,” one of the servers had returned with your desserts in tow, intruding on your conversation, “crème brulée à la lavande.”

He places two leaf shaped cream colored ramekins in front of the pair of you. You hum in astonishment as you take in the delectable looking lavender infused crème brulée with the browned sugar crust and the decorative buds of lavender on top. It smells faintly floral and you just know that when you taste it, your tongue is going to be in heaven, tasting the delicate yet complex layers to the dish.

Jungkook smirks at you cockily before he spoons up a sizable scoop of the crème and pulls it into his mouth, his lips pursing around the utensil until he sucks off all the dessert on the ladeled part. He hums his pleasure as his tongue rolls around in his mouth, sucking in the taste of the rich cream and the sweet sugar that is roped through it. His eyelids turn heavy and you have to suck in a breath when you realize this is probably what Jungkook would look like if he ate you out and was savoring the taste of your juices on his velvety lush tongue. 

You’re flustered but you can’t let him have the upperhand. You pick up the little dessert spoon and tap on the sugar crust, cracking it softly before you carefully scoop some of the confection onto your utensil, making sure to get both the hardened sugar and the smooth cream underneath.

You moan around it as you close your mouth with the first bite. You’re in heaven, you’re not sure you have ever had anything that was quite as rich or decadent as this before in your life. The velvety texture of the crème brulée swamps your tongue while the sugar melts into it from the heat of your warm, lush mouth. Your senses are heightened as you can taste every single ingredient that has gone into the dish and you inhale sharply before letting out another soft moan of satisfaction.

You wrap your lips around the spoon as you twirl your tongue around it to make sure you’ve gotten every last bit of the dessert off of it before you release from your mouth with a light pop. There’s a gossamer thread of spit connecting your lip to the spoon so you quickly dart your tongue out to break it. The male next to you shudders lightly, his breath hitches raggedly as he glares at you with hard eyes that have gone dark from the heat of his debauched desires. 

“Y/N,” he warns, groaning lightly, his tongue nearly poking a hole through his cheek in his irritation.

“Hmm?” you reply with faux innocence, determined to play with fire tonight. You don’t want to get burned tonight, oh no, you want much much more than that. You want to get consumed by the flames that have Jungkook within their hold.

You continue to eat up your crème brulée slowly, savoring each and every carefully scooped spoonful. Your tongue rolls in your mouth after each bite as you try to lick up all of the cream from the crevices before you go in for the next spoon. You’re not playing up your reactions by any means; it’s so delicious and rich, meant to be relished. And Jungkook is, figuratively, eating up all of the noises slipping between your plump sugar covered lips. His jaw is tight, lips thinned into a harsh line as he heatedly glares at you.

“It seems to me like you want something else to draw out those little pathetic sounds from your throat,” Jungkook grates, “until, perhaps, they are full blown moans of ecstasy.”

You still when you feel his long sinuous fingers gripping into the soft flesh of your exposed thigh. His palm is feverishly hot against your skin and Jungkook takes advantage of the fact that you’re wearing a mini dress to push your thighs apart and slip his hand in between. 

“Ju-Jungkook,” you stammer, letting your spoon clank against the ramekin where there’s still more than half of the dessert left. Your hands go to where his is cupping your cunt through the diaphanous black mesh thong you’re wearing from Agent Provocateur, you pull at his arm and attempt to take it off but you’re unable to shake the grip he has on you as his fingers stroke lines against the seam to your cunt through the thin, ineffective barrier of your panties. The pad of his index finger runs its path up and down until your pussy lips feel swollen, the folds sensitive and inflamed, as you slowly wet the mesh material until it’s practically invisible from how drenched it becomes. 

“What are you doing?” he hisses, his tone both gruff and lethal. “Get your hands off of me.” 

Your insides warm as you get aroused from his harshness and you let your hands fall off from where they were still attempting to pull him away. You already had a flush from the wine earlier heating your skin but now the blood crawls up your chest and rushes to your cheeks for a different reason.

“Don’t you have a dessert to eat, Y/N?” Jungkook mocks, pausing his fingers’ wickedly dexterous pursuit.

“I-I,” you stutter, “Y-y-yes, Jungkook.”

Your body was turned 90 degrees so that you could face him but when he raises an eyebrow that means ‘Get on with it,’ you instantly turn back around to properly face the dinner table and pick up your spoon from the ramekin with a shaking hand. You scoop up some of the dessert into your mouth and nervously close your lips around it, hyper aware of everything that is happening around you, on the tether hooks as you wait with bated breath for Jungkook’s next move.

He pinches your clit, invoking a squeal to slip out of your mouth as your walls flutter around nothing, clenching in dismay. “Why so silent, Y/N? Aren’t you enjoying your dessert? I think I’m going to feast on you though.”

“Mmpfh,” you moan behind clenched teeth, hurriedly swallowing down the velvety cream and spooning up another bite to place into your mouth, “It’s so good, Jungkook,” you gasp breathlessly.

“Good,” Jungkook grunts into your ear, he’s halfway out his chair, his body stretching over the small distance between your seats. His chest is digging into your shoulder and he has an arm, the one whose digits aren’t currently focused on stroking you into madness, wrapped around your back so that he can slip it around the front and hold your neck in it’s grip, squeezing it lightly in warning. Your breath catches in your throat and you gulp, able to feel every cold curve of each individual metal ring on his fingers lightly pressing into your skin. 

“You want to keep eating, Y/N?” Jungkook murmurs, hot breath tickling your ear as his lips brush against it before he pulls your delicate lobe between his teeth. 

“N-No!” you protest.

“Oh?” He quips. His voice has gone low and raspy, the tenor of his tone licking flames in the pit of your stomach, causing your nerves to tingle from anticipation, “Got something else in mind for dessert, princess?”

You pause hesitantly. The words are stuck in your throat.

“Go on, Y/N, tell me what my bratty spoiled princess really wants for dessert,” Jungkook growls, removing his long nimble fingers from the wet heat of your cunt when you don’t answer him.

Your hands immediately fly down, pressing down on his to keep it trapped between your warm palms and your waxed, bare mons. “You, Jungkook. You,” you wail, “I want you for dessert.”

“I thought so,” murmurs the genie silkily. He removes his hand from your throat, his thumb rubbing circles into the delicate flesh before his fingers move away to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. He unwinds his arm from around you, choosing to grip your chin, tilting your mouth up before meeting your lips in a fervent messy embrace.

It’s more desperate than sensual, a frantic clashing of lips as your tongues tangle with each other and your teeth almost knock against each other from the brutal force of the kisses. Jungkook drags your plump lower lip into his mouth, his teeth lightly nipping on it while he sucks until it feels raw and battered. His hand is tangled into your hair and he’s gripping on those locks tightly to maneuver your head in the exact position he wants. You ignore the pain erupting from your scalp as your palms freely roam the length of his upper body, slipping under the thin cotton T-shirt he had on to rake your long acrylic nails against his warm, muscled back. Your fingers travel up to his broad shoulders, gripping them under his shirt until you leave little crescent indentations from your nails on his flesh.

Jungkook shifts his lips from yours as he leaves you gulping for air, struggling to catch your breath. “My fucking selfish princess has bitten off more than she can chew on her quest to feast on everything she possibly can,” he murmurs, his hot breath fans over your cheek before he softly nips on the plumpest part of it. When you gasp at the sting, his tongue immediately darts out to soothe the pain as he licks up the side of your face messily. “Baby, you made a deal with the devil for these wishes,” he rumbles.

Your dress barely covers your chest which hectically heaves as Jungkook trails suctioning, bruising kisses down the length of your throat on the path to your breasts. The shimmery wine red cloth is barely hanging on to you as your hardening nipples struggle to keep them in position acting as the only thing holding them in place. The slippery cloth has almost fallen down several times, and you are millimeters away from suddenly exposing your entire upper half to the birds that are flying around as you sit on your sky high dinner date.

Jungkook’s strong agile fingers pull at the fabric as his mouth finds the large exposed expanse of cleavage available to him. He gently presses his lips on your soft warm skin before he parts them to leave hard open mouthed kisses on your breasts. When he’s finally able to get a strong enough purchase on the dress that he can pull it down to your waist, he deftly plucks the nude silicon pads off and flings them into the night sky before wrapping his lips against one of your hardened peaks.

His fingers are strumming at its twin while Jungkook sucks and sucks at your nipple like he thinks that he can get it to leak if he tries hard enough. That thought makes you still. An impregnation kink? You had never thought of it before but the thought of Jungkook fucking you with the sole purpose of breeding you and making you round and luminous as you carry his children, your breasts large and your curves plumper and softer than before has your heart beating loudly and erratically in your chest.

“Hey,” he complains when he notices you've gotten sidetracked in your thoughts. He bites down on your furled bud to draw back your attention, “Where did you go? Someone’s getting greedy. Do you need more, princess? Do you need me to do more so you’ll pay attention to me?”

“I,” you stammer. But Jungkook ignores you, he uses both of his hands to maneuver your skin clinging dress over your hips and then he tucks two fingers into the thin ribboned band of your underwear, pulling it away from your heated skin until the delicate mesh falls apart from his use of force, getting ripped straight off of your cunt. His jaw absentmindedly falls open a little as takes in the sight of your glistening pussy folds. 

“Oh, baby, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs. 

He plunges his middle finger in, going deep within your core as he curls it up, pumping within you so furiously that you can hear loud squelching sounds coming from your gushing pussy.

“Jung-Jungkook,” you whine. You need more. You need to be stuffed. “Jungkook, I can take more!” The last word comes out as a scream when he suddenly thrusts his ring finger and pinky inside you too. All three digits are assailing your insides, your core tightens around them, clenching hard but it doesn’t stop his intensity as he makes a complete mess of your pussy, wetness gushing out and dripping on your seat, trailing down your parted thighs. 

He has the side of his face pressed against your chest, your stiffened tips poking harshly into his right cheek as he glances downwards at the wreckage he’s created from the fruits of his labor. Your head is bent with your chin tucked on top of his crop of dark cyan hair, your long tumbling locks of hair falling forward to hide your expression as Jungkook makes you lose your mind underneath him.

“Your clit is so swollen, sweet girl, do you want me to rub it?” He asks, turning towards your breasts, rubbing his face into them, his nose tickling the valley between them. 

“Yes, Jungkook,” you urge breathlessly, “Please.”

His thumb and forefinger pinches that little sensitive bead, rolling it in between them before rubbing it side to side in a rapid, furious pace. “Or maybe it’s still not enough,” Jungkook wonders, “Do you want my head buried between those thighs as you ride your way to release or do you want my cock pounding you into submission, baby?”

Your mouth is hanging open, you can barely think, let alone put together a string of words that will have Jungkook satisfied with your reply. “Jungkook,” you pant, “I need—”

“Monsieur Jeon?” the waiter inquires after returning.

You still immediately, your head bending even further to conceal your body with your hair though you are already covered by Jungkook’s body on top of yours.

“Yes, Pierre,” Jungkook murmurs, not moving his face away from the comfort of your breasts. You hadn’t even realized that had been the name of your server.

“If you and mademoiselle are done with your dinners we can take you back to the ground.”

“Yes, thank you, Pierre. We would appreciate that.”

“I will go inform the team,” Pierre acquises, “Would you like for me to get more wine as we make our way down?”

“I think we are fine for now,” assures Jungkook. 

When the staff finally leaves you push Jungkook off of you, straightening up your dress, pulling it over your breasts and tugging it down to cover your bottom again. 

Jungkook merely smirks, purring, “You’re changing your tune so soon, princess? I take it you don’t want for things to continue when we’re on the ground then?”

You stiffly cross your arms over your chest, using them as supports under your breasts to hold onto the dress and keep it from slipping down and making you expose yourself to all of the sky high restaurant’s crew since Jungkook had gotten rid of your bra pads.

“Did you have to do that?” you demand.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, princess,” Jungkook fibs.

You roll your eyes, “It’s not enough that every time we do something it’s in public but you’ve started to destroy my underwear too.”

“Oh relax, Y/N,” Jungkook coaxes, “Your rack is spectacular and will be doing a more than great job of holding up your dress. You have nothing to worry about. And even if you did ever expose yourself to anyone you didn’t want to, I would just erase their memories for you.”

“My hero,” you simper sarcastically, tugging on his right ear.

The male narrows his eyes at you, consideringly. His front teeth nip at his bottom lip and you know that you’ve gotten yourself in trouble again as Jungkook thinks up ways to get back at you during the descent of the restaurant. 

When you are finally back touching solid ground, you are able to messily untangle yourself from the harnesses that kept you secured to your seat. You almost fall flat on the ground when you gingerly step off the platform you two had been eating on, towards the cracked pavement of the empty lot. Your legs had turned into jelly during their time up in the air, it’s a combination of vertigo and your legs still being shaky from having you edged to an orgasm that was woefully stolen away from you.

Jungkook immediately catches you in his arms, peering down at you softly before coming to a decision. He lowers himself, bending down to wrap his arms around your back and thighs more securely, before picking you up in a bridal carry. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him after hesitantly locking your arms around his thick neck.

“So,” he hedges, moving his face forward so that he can nudge at your plump cheeks with his nose. “Should the night end here princess?” he asks, “Or do you want the fun to continue when we get back home?”

“Yes, please,” you quietly beg.

Jungkook gently brushes his lips against your forehead before escorting the two of you home in a whirlwind cloud of gold dust before you two suddenly reappear in the hallway in front of the two of your rooms.

“Are we sleeping in different rooms tonight?” Jungkook inquires, just to check that your mind hasn’t changed within the last two minutes.

“Take me to your bed,” you softly urge the genie as you upturn your face, your nose nudging against the thin scar across his left cheek. He swiftly traipses forward, his long legs reaching his door in one effortless stride. 

His room is similar to yours except his bed is bigger, you notice with envy, and his furniture appears to be made of black colored iron unlike the white painted pieces in your room. He sets you down in front of him as he goes to close the door.

“Jungkook, babe,” you call out to his back. He raises an eyebrow as he turns to face you again. “Can you help me with my zipper? It’s a little hard for me to get it down.”

The slim invisible zipper to your deep burgundy shimmery dress is located right on the topmost part of your ass since it’s a mostly backless piece. Jungkook crowds you from behind, his massive frame enveloping yours as his long deft fingers go to zip you down. You shudder as his knuckles brush against the warm sensitive skin of your back, each touch sending a lighting bolt of attraction shooting up your spine while causing arousal to pool between your thighs. When the zipper is halfway down, resting on the swell of your ass, you step out of his hold. 

You turn around to face him as you pull down on the thin straps of the dress, letting them hang around your elbows as your bust works overtime to keep the dress up. With a twisted smirk painting your plush lips, you shimmy out of the glittery wine colored fabric, letting it pool around your Saint Laurent encased feet before stepping out of the circle of clothing lying on the ground. You lithely stalk towards Jungkook, your hair a sexy mess around your shoulders, curling into your breasts and brushing against your nipples as you make your way to the genie, completely nude since he had gotten rid of all of your underwear a while back.

Jungkook’s eyes softly shutter close as you finally reach him, his eyelids fluttering as he raggedly takes in a deep breath. You look utterly divine wearing only gold jewelry and your long strappy black heels that make your sun kissed limbs look miles long. You wrap your arms around his thick neck, pressing your heaving breasts against his hard pectoral muscles, “Jungkook?”

His hands grip onto your hips pulling your smooth crotch against his clothed one as he backs the two of you into the door. His hard pulsating cock is pressed against your slit and it makes you whimper when you shift and the zipper to his pants hits your clit. He secures his arms across your ass, pushing you up into his hold, making your toes tip because even in your heels you’re unable to be face to face with him. The man is sexily and inconveniently tall. Balancing all of your weight on your toes and Jungkook’s arms, you stretch so that your face is aligned with his and you can comfortably kiss him. Your teeth grab for his plump lower lip and pull it between yours so you can suck on that lush flesh, agitating it so it becomes red, wet, and swollen.

A subtle growl starts low in Jungkook’s chest as he pushes your body even further up and as you lose your footing you tangle a leg around Jungkook’s hips. His other hand moves up to roughly capture your jaw in its hold, locking you in position as he aggressively meets your lips back. His kisses are greedy and all-consuming; Jungkook kisses you like he’s a starving man and you are his first meal in a long time. His hand, the one that's gently hanging by your ass, starts to knead the supple flesh and your breath catches in your throat as you let out a choked gasp. His fingers are right by your puckered sensitive hole and you’re reminded of the fantasy you had had the night before he came into your life. Of a man touching and stroking you there in that forbidden orifice and working you up. 

Meanwhile, his mouth is busy; his tongue is prodding its way past your lips, slipping in and licking a torrid path in the lush cavern of your mouth. It’s agile and long, and the strong wet muscle twirls with your own, easily taking control of your mouth. The sounds slipping out of both of your lips as you continuously meet each other for more and more impassioned kisses are obscene; they’re loud wet sounds of fervent hunger that grow more frantic as the kisses persist.

Your core is clenching around nothing and it has you rutting against Jungkook’s crotch like a bitch in heat, leaving a dark damp patch on the black fabric of his dressy joggers. Jungkook stops stroking and squeezing your ass to pull your other leg around his hips until your stiletto heels are digging into his butt and you are wrapped entirely around his body like a koala. He backs away from the door, his lips breaking apart from yours so he can look where he is walking and carrying you. You are still kissing him though; your lips have trailed down to kiss and bite along his jaw and neck, you even let yourself suck on his Adam’s apple which has him gulping and your lips stretching into a smirk against the flushed smooth flesh  of his throat, as you can feel every movement underneath the delicate skin.

He carefully drops you onto the bed, taking precaution not to fall over with you and crush you underneath his weight. You stare up at him, wide-eyed as your lips part with hunger and surprise at the change in position. His large doe eyes have gone black with lust, becoming heavy lidded as they travel up the entire length of your body with lazy glances. 

He steps in between your parted legs, his hands curling around your soft meaty thighs, dimpling into them with the pressure from his fingertips. “Let me eat you out?” he asks huskily, his tenor sounding ragged and raspy.

“Please,” you beg with wide eyes shining with lust. Your legs part even more to let Jungkook see just how wet your folds are.

He sinks to his knees before you, holding down on your thighs as he lowers himself to the ground. He places a flurry of light open mouth kisses against your soft thighs as he nudges them apart and pulls you forward so that your ass hangs off the bed and he can throw your legs over his shoulders. Your Saint Laurent encased limbs spasm against his back and the pointed heels dig into his white T-shirt making him grunt as he falls forward a little. 

You let out a pained whine when you notice Jungkook manages to catch himself right before he faceplants onto your cunt. He slowly lowers his face, nose tenderly nudging at your slit before he purses his lips and kisses at your folds. He gently mouths at the petals of oversensitive and swollen flesh, softly lapping at the juices that cling to them. You let out a shrill, frenzied moan when he flattens his tongue against your core, licking long and hot fat stripes down the opening. Your fingers snake into his damp indigo colored locks, drenched from his sweat, scratching your acrylic nails against his scalp as you attempt to push him down further into your crotch. 

He slides his hands up your warm thighs making your muscles contract at the sensation before he grabs onto your hips, guiding their motion with his grip. He lets you rock against his mouth frantically, opening his jaw wide as your juices that he’s unable to capture drip down his chin. You wail, letting out a desperate sob as he buries his face deeper into your cunt licking and slurping like a man maddened from lust. His nose juts against your swollen inflamed clit as his teeth clamp down lightly on your folds and pull at them gently, making you convulse and twitch as you mindlessly shove your pussy against him. 

“Is this good, sweet girl,” he murmurs huskily, “Is this what you wanted?”

He brushes his plush lips over your clit, teasing you, tempting you until he has your laser focus drawn to what he is doing. It’s then that he starts working on that hyper responsive bundle of nerves, teasing that little bead with flicks of his tongue, hard focused snaps of his wet muscle against the overworked bud. He’s giving you everything; his mouth wrapping around your clit, his lips gently pressing against it in faux respite, his teeth nipping it to draw out cries, and his tongue manipulating it to make you turn feral. He’s got you in the palm of his hand and it makes him realize that he’s been neglecting you in perhaps the most important way.

“Is,” his tongue jabs into your core, “This,” his teeth clamp down on your clit, inducing tears to spring from your eyes, “Good,” he slurps at your arousal noisily, repeating the question.

You frantically nod in his direction before you realize he can't see your expression with his face shoved into your pussy. “Ye-Yes,” you choke out, clearing your throat that's gone rough from the constant stream of screaming that Jungkook’s been able to pull from your lips. You think it subsides him but then he tilts his head in a calculating way that’s got you freezing against him.

He pulls away to draw your attention back to his face, you glance at him with glazed over eyes that are confused yet frustrated. Staring right at you with sleepy, hooded lids, he holds your gaze as he runs his index finger up and down your fluttering core, gathering up your juices on top of his finger, using the transparent ropes of arousal to coat his finger, lubricating it before he plunges it into you. 

“Jungkook,” your legs spasm over his shoulders as you accidentally hit his back with one of your high heels. “I’m gonna c— I’m gonna COME! I can’t— I can’t take much more of THIS!” Your hips raise up from the bed as you squirm, fucking his finger into you since he hasn’t started moving it yet. 

He stares at you consideringly, “Fuck my fingers Y/N,” he raspily commands, “Fuck yourself to completion.”

You still, momentarily unnerved but Jungkook uses his thumb to flick the nail of his middle finger against your clit, which not only pulls out an embarrassing keen from your mouth but also spurs you into action, rocking your hips in fluid motions as your core takes in the entire length of his index finger.

You whine in frustration, complaining, “Jungkook, this isn’t enough!”

“I’d say make it enough,” the male responds, “If I hadn’t been tempting you all night long. Consider yourself lucky, princess.” And with that Jungkook shoves three more fingers in you, pumping them into you impressively faster and harder than he had ever teased you before, almost inserting half his hand, a centimeter into his palm as well, into the cunt he stretched out during dinner. It’s a good thing he thought to do that since you would be struggling when he finally took you. 

Your vision turns white as your eyes almost roll backwards and your teeth chatter, knocking into each other due to the violent intensity at which Jungkook was impaling your pussy with his fingers. Your thighs quake uncontrollably as you’re finally pushed to the brink. With your voice crescendoing into a needlessly long and cacophonously loud scream, you reach an earth shattering climax, slumping down onto the bed, your legs twitching absentmindedly.  

The male gets off of his knees, the bottom half of his face is still glistening with the remnants of your arousal. He stretches, his broad shoulders getting rolled back, before he one-handedly pulls off his fitted white tee in a decidedly sexy manner. Your eyes immediately shift to his bare upper half when you hear the clink of metal and you find yourself staring at, for the first time, his golden waist chain. The gossamer strands of metal are wrapped around his thin, sun bronzed waist, practically blinding you with the shine from their yellow color that glitters as it moves with every flow and shift of Jungkook’s body. 

Jungkook doesn’t let the chain hold your attention for too long, immediately distracting you as he unbuttons and undoes the fly on his dark cargo joggers. He lets the fabric hang loose around his hips as he palms his massive shaft though the black cotton of his Balenciaga boxer briefs. He rubs the bulbous tip of his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear as he toes off his imposing spiky heeled Chelsea boots. Once the shoes are off, he gently tugs on his pants, letting them pool around his ankles and stepping out of them.

He walks towards you almost nude except for the briefs that cling to his muscley thick thighs and show how pronounced his dick is as it struggles to pop out from behind the band. There is a cocky smirk painting his lovely coral colored Cupid’s bow and his nicely shaped eyebrows quirk in challenge as he steps in your direction. You groan in impatience and need as he stands in front of you, legs spread hips’ length apart. A light chuckle sounds from behind the plush lip he’s biting hard as he pushes down on the black elastic band of the underwear and his massive cock, which you have only felt against you but never seen before this moment, bounces out from the confines. He’s larger than you dreamed he could be, and you know better than to assume that Jungkook, fiercely competitive and authentic as he is, would increase the size with magic. 

Your hips are already subconsciously gyrating against the air as you take him in with a slackened jaw and numbly hanging open mouth. It’s girthy and twitching lightly, slightly bouncing as it stands proud free from the confines of pants and underwear. The mushroom tip is swollen and flushed a dark berry red. The thick protruding vein you wanna nibble on, runs along the underside of the cock and is more pronounced, becoming easier for you to see, when he holds up the shaft to rub at its bulbous head to work precum out of it, make the white viscous liquid bead from the tip. 

His cock is fucking pretty, and you want to suck on it, but a quick glance at the male reveals that he’s too impatient to let you do that now and just wants you to take him in. You can’t blame him after he’s gotten you off about half a dozen times over the course of the day without having blown off some steam himself. 

The tattoos along his arm seem to pop against his sun kissed skin as he strokes his cock which swells at the stimulation. “Ready princess?” he asks quietly.

“Please.” You beg a repetition of the one word that always finds its way easily to your lips when Jungkook is working you up. 

He guides his cock to your gushing slit, brushing the mushroom head against your folds, rubbing it into them causing his precum and your arousal to combine and mix. He slaps his head against your clit a few times before he deems you sufficiently drenched and ready to take him in. He slowly presses the round tip into your folds, hunting for your opening, his veiny hand guiding his shaft’s path. Slowly it breaches you, causing your mouth to fall open as a sex crazed look takes over your features. You moan a long, wanton sound at the intrusion, even though Jungkook took his time preparing you, it’s been more than a year since you’ve fucked anyone. With one hand still directing his cock, he uses the other to grab your hip to gently lift it up so he can palm the small of your back and push you up towards him.

You meet him eagerly, squirming as you help him get you up, throwing your arms over his shoulders and holding onto his neck with a deathgrip. He slowly moves the hand from your back to run along your hip and then your thigh so that he can wrap your curvy leg around his hip. Pulling your leg up had another advantage as well, now he can more easily enter you and he slams into you, impaling you with his cock until he is fully sheathed and your waxed bare mons meet the nicely groomed dark patch of hair on his pubic bone, your pelvises flush against each other. 

You can feel the ridges of his shaft sliding along your walls as they clench around him, letting you feel every bump and vein. “A-Ah,” you stutter as a mewl slips from your panting lips. “Jung—JUNGKOOK,” you cry out as his cock twitches within you and the tip just barely hits that elusive g-spot.

“Fuck,” he grunts before a guttural moan breaks out of him. 

“God, princess. This is what you wanted all along didn’t you. The entire day you’ve been teasing me. Tempting me with those fucking sly smiles and suggestive looks. You didn’t want a fucking considerate boyfriend you wanted a rude libertine to blow your back out. Isn’t that right—princess,” he hisses through his clenched teeth.

You’re unable to answer him as he quickens the pace, slipping in and out of you furiously, taking his cock almost entirely out with only his fat tip in you before thrusting manically again, pounding into your pelvis, battering up your insides and making you turn into a boneless pile of goo.

You’re practically drooling at this point while your eyes are shiny from the tears that come from his frantic impaling as he jackhammers into you. Your mouth is hanging open and he smacks the ass cheeks he’s been gripping onto this entire time when you don’t give him a reply.

“This.” Smack. “Is.” Smack. “What.” Smack. “You.” Smack. “Wanted.” Smack. “Isn’t it, princess?” he growls, ending off with one last smack.

“Yes, Jungkook!” you sob, “This is what I wanted!” You’re inconsolable as he continues with the frenzied onslaught of sex. 

He hauls you up even further, he had one arm hugging your lower back as the other focused on keeping your thigh firmly locked around his waist and then you’re bouncing on his cock in midair, the metal of his waist chain poking into the soft skin of your tummy every time the two of you met into the middle. It’s a good thing he’s helping you stay attached to him because with the way he is bending you over, making your back arch as he attacks your breasts and neck with impassioned bites and kisses, you would have fallen right off of him without the extra support.

He makes his way up to your mouth, peppering your skin with sucking kisses before finally reaching it and wildly attacking your lips with his in a messy frenzy of teeth and tongue. After what seems like long interminable moments, he finally releases your lips with a wet pop. There’s still a string of saliva connecting the two of you that breaks when he parts open his mouth and whispers sweetly against yours, “That’s all you had to say, princess.”

He picks up the pace as he buries his face into your neck, dead set on leaving a bruising hickey that will remain for several days. You press your lips against his crown, his blue hair tickling your nostrils as you attempt to silence your cries against his scalp. His hold on you tightens like he never wants to let you go, keeping your sweaty body clinging to his, his biceps flexing as he grips onto you and jackhammers uncontrollably, losing all signs of rhyme or rhythm, just knowing that he wants to be buried in your heat forever.

“Say you want this,” he demands. “Say you want ME!” The last word is punctuated by a brutal thrust that hits your g-spot perfectly and has you crying into his hair. 

“I want you,” you sob, “God, I need you Jungkook.” Your breasts are heaving against his hard pecs, your nipples dragging along the smooth solid planes of his chest as you struggle to get your words out.

If you could have seen Jungkook’s eyes at that moment, you would have seen how they turned reddish black, the color of molten lava as a look of pure possessiveness took over his features. But since you can’t see his face, you’re unaware of how your genie is falling for you just as easily as you are falling for him. 

The loud sounds of his balls hitting your skin resound through the bedroom and Jungkook never lets down on the pace. He fucks you into submission as you hang off of him, jellylike with no control over your spasming limbs. Jungkook takes your well timed bout of flexibility to maneuver your legs off of his thighs to hang off his elbows as he wraps his arms around your knees and has them circle behind you. This new height and shift in position has his hip rolls drag his cock through your folds in a more enticing manner, working up your engorged clit with every pounding. You almost forget that he’s no longer hitting your g-spot as you shriek loudly, your poor clit sobbing at the new brutal onslaught of stimulation. 

“Jungkook,” you keen, “God, Jungkook. I don’t know how much further I can go.”

“I’m sure you’ll keep up,” he hums meanly, as he pistons his hips again and again. You’re writhing against him, barely able to roll your hips to meet his every thrust anymore. You feel like you just ran a marathon and you’re approaching the last yard. The end is near and you can sense it with how overheated your body becomes and how you wince and whimper at every move Jungkook makes, able to feel every drag of his magnificent cock through your core down to what feels like the cellular level. Your walls keep clenching onto him tighter and tighter as well, reluctant to release him from their hold and he finds himself putting in even more effort into every snap of his hips.

“You’re almost there aren’t you, sweet girl,” he mumbles against your throat, biting harshly along the delicate skin under your jaw and pulling at it with his front teeth. You can only let out a wordless amalgamation of sounds erupt from your throat as you moan. 

“Let me take you there, princess,” he mutters, “I’ll be your guide, darling.” He bucks into you one last time and he’s almost done it. He’s sent you there to that precipice. You’re hanging on the high but you need to come down. All it takes is one pinch from his clever fingers to your bruised clit as he bites down on your shoulder and you’re there, screaming as you hit your release, gushing around him like a broken sprinkler while Jungkook soothes the abused flesh with soft kitten licks from his tongue, his cool saliva covering the tender area like a balm. 

As you hang of his body, your head sagging against his chest, arms no longer bothering to hold onto his neck, the male lets a faint smile grace his lips, holding you up with his impressive strength, gently rocking his cock into your drenched folds a couple more passes over before he explodes inside of you, painting your walls with his hot viscous ropes of white cum. 

You’re practically asleep in his arms when he’s struggling to pull his shaft out of your fluttering folds that still want to keep it sheathed in their slick embrace, warming his cock with their heat, but he persists, gently dragging it out. The amount of cum that flows out from between your thighs after that is almost obscene. 

Jungkook looks back at his bed before glancing at the mess the two of you have created and decides that the best thing to do right now would be to magically make the liquid disappear before also cleaning you two up like you two had come straight out of a shower. Once your skin is glowing and clean, he gently lays your body down on the right side of his bed, carefully making sure that your head is correctly positioned on the fluffy pillow before covering up your nudity with the silk comforter. 

He walks over to the other side and slips easily into bed, facing the ceiling as he reclines next to you, pondering something. He seems to finally come to a decision and the lights flicker off, swamping the room in darkness, as he turns over to face you and drags your body into his so that your ass is pressed against his front. Throwing an arm and a leg over your form that is loose-limbed in slumber, the male comfortably spoons you before he plunges into sleep as well. 

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License

©OPALJM 2021

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook pwp #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #kwritersworldnet #jeon jeongguk smut #jungkook x female reader #jungkook au #bangtansorciere #jeongguk smut #bts au #jungkook fantasy au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jksource #jungkook imagines #ksmutclub #jungkook smut au #bts smut au #jungkook oneshot #btscreatorscorner #jungkook supernatural au #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #thebtswritersclub

[bonny-kookoo]

Ahhh!! We can make prey Yoongi requests?? 🥺🥺omg I have so many-! How would he react if they got sick? Would he panic like JK? (Also if someone already asked I apologize, I'm still trying to read through everything 😖🙏🏾🙏🏾)

You're refusing to leave the bed the entire day already.

And usually that wouldn't bother Yoongi at all, but today he's got some things to do and he doesn't like leaving you home alone all the time. So he rather roughly rips the blankets off of you- bit to his surprise, you don't protest nor whine like usually. In fact, you're lying motionless, curled up in yourself, and yoongis gaze changes a bit.

Something's wrong.

He's noticed the way he feels a little.. off and uncomfortable, but he's not too familiar with how the bonding affects his own emotions, so he sometimes mixes things up and gets confused. But now he nows its not him feeling so odd, it's you.

Leaning over you, he instantly takes note of your scent- dull and almost stale, it's the first sign of sickness he'd already overlooked this morning it seems. The slight layer of sweat on your skin and the temperature of your body confirms his suspicion.

You're sick.

He sighs, leaving the bedroom to find his phone in the kitchen, texting a quick message to Seokjin to inform him that he'll be visiting in a few minutes, before he walks back to you, helping you sit. This time you do whine, weakly fighting against him as he dresses you in one of his sweaters, before he picks you up, holding you against his chest before he sits you down in one of the kitchen chairs. You're not too sure what he's doing, until he slips into his shoes and jacket, before he picks you up again as he walks out the door.

He's quiet the entire way to Seokjins office, and you're not sure if he's simply annoyed by you getting sick, or if he's worried. But then again, it's yoongi. He's probably just annoyed.

He doesn't look at anything in particular while Jin examines you. "I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I suspect it's an infection." Jin explains to Yoongi, who nods after a moment, eyes finally looking at the older Louri. "I'd suggest checking her in, just to be safe. Her ove state worries me a little." Seokjin advises, and your eyes widen. Hospital?

"Alright." Yoongi simply says, before he gets up, just to stop in his tracks, eyes widening before he snaps his head at you. And low and behold this time he'd noticed it right away; your emotions shared by your bond with him, as he meets your gaze, eyes glossy as you begin to sniffle. "I'm just- hey, I'm not leaving you alone, idiot." He sighs, walking over to you to clumsily push your head against his chest in a weird hug. He doesn't like showing affection in front of others, but he also doesn't like seeing you cry. "I was going to get you clothes and shit." He explains, and you nod, rubbing your eyes.

"Sorry." You tell him, and he just clocks his tongue before he sits down next to you on the examination table. "Didn't you want to-?"

"Well I can't leave you crying here, can I?" He says, though there's a soft tune to his voice, as he waits with you for the medical staff to arrange transportation to the closest hospital. "..don't be scared." He mumbles to you, as you pout tiredly at him.

"M' not." You argue, and he rolls his eyes at that- though it gives him hope it's not all that bad with you.

"You totally are, you big baby." He teases, and you lean against his side suddenly, closing your eyes.

"I'm your baby though." You say, and he just wraps one arm around you.

Yes. You totally are his baby.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #prey au

[sktls-ig]

The mercs get asked on a date/go on a date what they doin

Scout

He brags. Constantly "ayo spy did you here how dat pretty person asked me out?"

The others ask if it's a guy and if it is he gets all defensive like "whatda hael I aint gay!" *I kissed a guy and I liked iit*

But nah he'd be super happy all day trying to find what outfit he'd wear or whether he should ask spy for help

Spy

Honestly

Doesn't get to giddy about it, he's used to it..he's French yknow

But he still looks his best constantly

Gets prepared to leave the next day if things get "intimate"

If its someone he likes tho he'll make it his mission to make sure this person has everything to make them happy

Will buy should of Vincent van go if it's someone he likes

Sniper

Red mess. (Or blu depending on team lmao. Jk he's red)

Like put a side by side comparison of a tomato and him. Won't be able to tell the difference

Tries to worm out a sentence

"When you, you, you, when you, when, when, you, whem"

He accepts but ends up always thinkin bout how he would kill you

Hes bi boo

He cries when he sees pretty women or men

Soldier

Will most likely accept for a flower. Or a new thing to wear on his head

Honey included

Naked fighting included now exclusively with honey

He comes in an army outfit and ends up naked chasing birds in the parking lot of a gay bar. With his date

The dumb one on a date

"What would you like to order sir?"

"Are you talking to me or her?!"

"...sir i was talking to you, what do you want"

"...a racoon!"

Alot of screaming

Probably American themed date

Yells. But in a childish four years old way

Medic

Again. Red. But only when alone

He doesnt make it obvious he like you back, but he let's you pet his birds

So its pretty obvious he does like you

Archimedes doesn't though

Medic will try to look nice but comes to the date covered in blood. So he and his date get kicked out..

The manager mysteriously disappeared the next day

Will harvest dates body parts while asleep

Gay. With a lil straight

He prefers men but will go with a woman.

Will use said woman's breasts to feed his birds

Engineer

Again. Red. Hide it either with the lil hand thing where you cover half your face with one hand and turn (usually it's followed up with "stawp eet") or just his hard hat

Will teach how to build at some point

Super happy and goes in a suit

...outback steakhouse date (the restaurant Gordon. The restaurant 😔)

Fancy man

He is sweet and is the kinda dude to put his jacket over a puddle for you

Will tear pervs to shreds

Pyro

Will reply with arson

You know how joker spreads oil in the shape of his face before burning down arkum in the Lego game

Yeah like that bit with yes or no

In the person's house

Starting forest fires with bea ❤

Having a ball

Just comes in his usual arson suit

Chases butterflies. Wich without the mask are mosquito's. They are biting him

Hasn't learnt about birds and the bees yet

Babey

Hard to see if he's actually enjoying the date or wants to set the federal government on fire

Demoman

Cries drunkenly when asked

Will most probably completely forget about the date and remember halfway through

"Oh shit yeah this is a date"

Once he realises his gentleman mode kicks in

Though he's very drunk

And emotional

Ots painful for the person who asked

He's trying leave him alone

Heavy

He's really happy abt it bc not alot of people aren't scared of him

He might accept but he might give thm a hug and a nice decline

He doesnt try, he looks good enough honestly

He pays. For food. At a fancy diner

He gives compliments constantly

He's usually only there to see the person smile

#tf2 #scout tf2 #medic tf2 #tf2 scout #sniper tf2 #tf2 medic #engineer tf2 #spy tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 headcanons

[khaleesiofalicante]

"Trauma sends you letters, without warning, for the rest of your life, usually disguised as something else" - Brenna Twohy

Just gotta say I'm in like one of those moods when you are not in the mood... So, tysm bc this chapter had my mind busy from everything else💚

Ahh we finally know!! They are antidepressants! I knew it!! It makes so much sense!!

The way it perfectly captures the frustration of having to take something, even tho you need it, but still being reluctant is just ✨amazing✨

Not until Shinyun had turned up and threatened to shove it down his throat. This is why its so hard to hate her. At the end of the day, they were always kinda looking for each other in a way

Medications are supposed to make you feel better. So, what the hell are side effects? The universe is cruel sometimes. It drove a hard bargain. Side effects are a bitch and literally this is a fucking mood in this moment of my life jshsjskks

I'm really worried about him tbh... Babe don't push this!! It will only get worse!!

Alec is so fucking cute making him Indonesian food!! BUT WTF HONEY YOU NEED TO WASH THE FUCKING RICE!!! EVERYONE KNOWS THAT!!

I love Raphael so much!! Some notes: Lily is definetly his friend now ;) He loves Magnus and we all know it. And I also love the way his brain works

And let the white man pay?” Raphael grins. “Always,” Magnus grins back. ✨YES✨

Raphael calling out Alec and all politicians was just fucking great. And the quote OMG "Everyone needs to learn to care about everything. If we only give a shit about things that concern us, then we’ll go nowhere." But also them taking about religion is so on point for both of them jdhsksks

“Sure. I can meet you tomorrow. But I have to warn you though. I make everything sexy.” I mean he is not lying...

“True,” Raphael nods seriously. “That would be an insult to all vampires.” 😂😂

Don’t we all fucking love the way Alec is always trying to do better and he actually listens to other people and learns from his mistakes and informs himself?? Because I sure as hell do💙💙

Part two omg it hits in the feels😭😭

Max makes friends so easily. Rafael wishes he could do that too. Its relating-to-Rafael time already huh?!?

HE IS THE CUTEST LITTLE SHIT ALREADY AND I'M LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! ROSEWOOD 4 EVER❤️

RAFAEL AND MAGNUS>>>>>

Once, dad was on this magazine too. Because he is very important and very gay. 😂HE IS NOT LYING

Matthew being a model. Fuck. Yes. 💖💜💙

Rafael wants to hug them and tell them it’s going to be okay. I would die for this kid

The worst thing is that they both have good points and they are both correct at some level but  the way they are handling it is not ok...

He loves his brother. No matter how much Max yells at him. Because he knows Max loves him just as much – maybe even a little bit more.

Because he wanted Rafe to have fun on his birthday. Max is an idiot. Rafael loves him so much.

HE LOVES MAX SO MUCH AND I AM EMO!! You can't give me Max and Rafael as kids and expect me to not cry. I love their dynamic so much😭😭

Not to point fingers but Alec...WTF???😂

LET LEXI HAVE THE GUN!!

I love how he's always connecting things with Anjali❤️ SHE IS SO BADASS INDEED!!

You are free to like or dislike whatever you want, BUT COME ON DUDE!! TACOS ARE AMAZING!! AND YOU NEED TO DO THE FINGER THINGY FOR THE SAUCE NOT TO DRIP😂😂  I think that’s more of a mexican thing than latino but the point still stands kdhjsnsks

Idk if I can love someone who doesn't like tacos.. jk, jk. I love you Rafe<3

HIS INNOCENCE JUST GETS ME EVERY TIME😭

"The more different bapak is, the meaner things people will say about me.”

“Because sometimes we are scared of people who are different,”

This just hits so much💔

ROSEWOOD SUPREMACY FIRST. HUMAN SECOND

Anjali IS a queen already😎

One day he hopes his kids will love him as much as he loves Bapak. 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

*pouring some water in a glass as if it was wine * So, tell me about Ben👀

Please be a royal theme. Or maybe something with a beach. Beach! Fuck yes! OMFG😂

“What’s in this? Ambrosia or some shit?” Idk why I laughed so hard jdhsisjso I mean.. Its David’s recipie. The moans are valid

Magnus hums. “Did you eat?” It makes Alec smile. Some things never change.🥺🥺

Magnus taking care of the environment is so sexy ngl

How is this 18-year-old getting more than Alec? Why is the universe so fucking cruel to him? Sorry but the quote "He can be petty when he isn’t getting any" lives in my mind 24/7

We stan Leslie😎

But he knows this is on him. At least he admits it...

I dont like this foreshadowing

He is comparing the parents. I haven't thought about it this way. Fuck

"Our anger doesn’t just hurt the people who hurt us. It hurts the people who love us too.” All these deep talks are killing me. I love them💙

But not having friends can make you feel incredibly sad. THIS!!

This reminded me of the "He founds a wound and pokes it, just to see how long it will bleed" of LBAF.. Why tf do I see parallels that are not there??

“Because if you hurt him, it will ruin our family. It will make things difficult with Jace and Clary. Not to mention the shitstorm that will happen on Twitter.” 🎶You, clearly didn't think this through🎶 start playing on the distance..

People who burn on your behave because it's easier to set them on fire.🥺🥺

Don’t you love when kids comunicate their worries and the parents actually listen and try to do better?? ✨The way its supposed to be✨

"I earned those, you know,” Max grins. “You want me to tell you what I did to earn them?” “Please fuck off,” Alec says. Don’t we all love Max traumatising Alec with his sex jokes? 😂😂

At the end of the day I think the divorce was necessary for them to see their mistakes, apologise and learn. BUT FUCK IF IT DOESN’T HURT THAT ALEC STILL HAS HIM AS "BABY" 😭

Anyway, I was looking through my camera roll bc I was sure I had a photo of the beach but I couldn’t find it!! I will look through my computer bc now I'm commited to do it but in the meantime have this!

-Photo I took of El Museo de Antropología e Historia

I am floored by this quote. Hold me.

ALSO THE MUSEUM OMG. HOW STUNNING.

I'm glad this chapter made you feel better. Here is a tiktok for you.

The rosewood vibes of this 🥺

#tlnd

[1kook]

skirt chasers

jjk x (f) reader

summary “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” tags f2l, triple texting king kook, ncampus crush kook who is also the weird gamer boy, the skirt aspect is forgotten towards the end tbh, dumbassery is a disease and we are all affected by it, confessions SO CORNY it could be a 2005 teen romcom warnings smut in the form of: unprotected sex, use of mirrors, mostly heavy petting as foreplay I’m sorry, mentions of Jk’s furry ways as a gag kinda, like an unnecessary amount of swearing  wc 7.8k 

to make a long story short, i saw this nsfw gif and wrote this entire fic between 2 am and 6 am anyway i actually really like how this turned out!! lmk when u think

Part of the ideology behind the pleated skirt was in hopes that buying a new wardrobe would somehow help you rebrand your image around campus. Truthfully, it was kinda too late for that now; you’d been here going on three years, your friends and anyone with eyes could see that the style of clothing you leaned towards favored comfort over fashion. However, someone—it might’ve been Taehyung—had gone on a drunken spiel the other night concerning the importance of presenting oneself via fashion. It wasn’t aimed at you, but it certainly left you wondering. 

Which is how you find yourself shivering to the bone now, lingering around the west quad as you wait for Jungkook to come out of an anatomy lab. He’s at that point in the semester where grades mean nothing and everything to him at the same time, so Namjoon’s commissioned you and your other pals to take turns babysitting him once a week to make sure he gets at least some assignments done. 

You don’t know where any of you would be without Kim Namjoon.

Anyway, your legs are fucking cold and if this is what it takes to be known as the fashionably cute girl around campus, you’d rather choke. The imaginary sound of your bones rattling is cut off when Jungkook throws the door nearest you open, his big dopey smile engulfing his face the moment he sees you. He barely acknowledges the gaggle of students that follow after him, all calling out a chorus of goodbyes to him, because unlike you Jungkook was the cute, campus boy crush with his suave looks and comfortable fashion. God, if only you could pull off sweats and mustard-stained Venom shirts like him.

“Lets go,” you yawn, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your long cardigan. Jungkook jogs over, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nearly knocking you into the emergency telephone you’d been brooding by. “You smell sterile again.”Jungkook grins. 

“That’s because I was touching dead people again,” he informs you, too giddy for someone who’d probably fingered the fuck out of a gallbladder twenty minutes ago. 

“Ew,” you whine, the sudden urge to shove Jungkook and his dead people germs away from you. He cackles in your face, and you wonder again how he single handedly enthralls half the campus population with a laugh like a seagull. 

You’ve barely moved ten feet when Jungkook finally notices your vibrating body, and it’s only because you’re nearly convulsing with shivers at this point. “Woah, what are those,” he exclaims, eyes pointedly eyeing your legs. 

You know your bare legs are a rare sight when Jungkook has to resolve to overused memes to refer to them. 

“They’re my legs, and they’re fucking freezing,” you calmly reply. 

Jungkook seems shocked for only a moment longer, and you almost think he’s gotten over it when he suddenly snorts and scares the shit out of you in the middle of the crosswalk. “Why the fuck are you wearing a skirt in this weather, you dinglehead?” 

You shove him, and he stumbles over the curb, but you get the feeling he’d do that without you pushing him. Jungkook was clumsier than Namjoon on his bad days. “I’m trying to be fashionable, you hater,” you huff, not even bothering to say thank you when he pulls open the coffee shop door for you. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to someone who doesn’t even wear the right size shirt.” 

Like always, he’s one step ahead of you and hands the cashier his card before you can even reach for your wallet. Next time. “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” 

“For your information I bought this from H&M,” you retort, though you can’t hide the flush that warms your cheeks at his comment. “Also, what's the point of working out your hotbod if you’re just gonna hide it under shirts long enough to be a mini-dress, huh? Riddle me that, Jeon.” 

You flinch when your bare thigh touches the cold seat of the booth, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Your skirt is mad short,” he points out, and you kick his shins. 

You’ve already got a Google Doc open on your laptop from last night when you and Jimin had been going ham on a psych essay, but you also have a Fashion Nova cart on another window that’s just begging for you to check out. 

“Short skirts are just a concept made by men with lingering eyes to demean and belittle women who don’t submit to their every want and need.” 

“Oh my god,” he groans, and you watch him muffle a laugh into his palm as he gets his own work out. “Do you think I’m gonna pull the meninist card out on you and call you a slut or something?” 

You fake gasp, eyes wide and shocked as you give him your best disappointed face. “Jeon, how could you? I expected better from you.”  

This time he does laugh, a dorky sound unlike his witch cackle from earlier, and you finally let a smile slip. Jungkook was funny, too sweet and kind hearted for his own good. A little dumb, but most cute guys were. He’s one of those guys who thinks girls are nice to him out of their own free will, and not because they’re trying to bag the campus hottie. 

“Seriously,” he says once he’s pulled his fat anatomical reference book out, stuffed to the brim with worn scientific essays he’d printed out, and pictures he’d taken at every single one of his visits to the cadaver lab. His voice is earnest and genuine when he speaks again. “You can wear whatever you want, I was just curious about the skirt ‘cause you normally wear things past the knee and elbow.” 

When he puts it like that you kinda sound surprisingly conservative. 

You shrug, tapping away at your computer as if the sight of you in anything other than what he said isn’t really weird. “Just thought I’d try something new. Why, does it look too weird?” Your voice suddenly feels meek, and you’re not sure if your cheeks are warm from the chill outside or from something else. 

Jungkook shakes his head, coconut hair bouncing from side to side. “Nah, you look cute,” he says, and then, as if an afterthought, adds, “weirdly sexy, too. Like you belong in a Brazzers video?” 

“What the fuck, Jungkook,” you groan, sinking your head into your palms. 

“What! You asked for my opinion and I gave you it,” he defends, too casual for someone spewing their unwarranted porn knowledge at you. You urge him to do his homework, drink his coffee, anything besides embarrass you further. 

He does, but you don’t miss the goofy way he glances under the table one more time. 

The pleated skirt makes it’s return three weeks later, this time accompanied by her best friend, the sheer pantyhose. 

“Oh, who’s this sexy schoolgirl?” Taehyung exclaims the moment you step into the diner. Your cheeks flush red when the family beside you send you and your friends a disapproving look. 

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook says as he gets up to let you slide into the booth. He has this incessant need to be sitting at the end of the booth just in case nature calls in the middle of dinner and he can’t usher the rest of you out fast enough. 

(It almost happened once, and the sight of Jungkook shoving Hoseok flat on his ass had been too funny to forget.) 

“Wait a minute, is that why you stopped using EOS and started using the Dove shaving cream?” Chaeyoung interrogates from across you. “So you could show off your sexy model legs?” 

“No, Dove is just cheaper,” you reply, trying to sound as aloof as possible but if anyone at this table knew you like the back of their hand, it was definitely Chaeyoung. “Why can’t you guys let me live my best life?” 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You snap back, but your level of sass can never seem to match his. 

“We all know your ‘best life’ would be spent in those fuzzy Cookie Monster pajama pants and one of Kook’s big ass shirts,” he points out, and you hide behind your menu much to everyone’s amusement. 

You whine, “why can’t you all just be supportive besties and tell me I look cute?” 

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Chaeyoung assures you, gesturing for you to pass her the sugar for her coffee. “It’s just weird seeing your legs out. Almost weirder than if you randomly pulled your tits out right now.” 

Behind her, you can see the same mom from the family glaring at you guys. You lower your head in shame. 

“For the record, I’m team skirt, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the other,” Jungkook adds after being silent for so long. Taehyung fist bumps him as you slap your hand over your eyes. At this rate you’d rather just put a paper bag over your head. 

“We’re sitting on the same side of the table, so you’re supposed to be on my side!” You groan, and Jungkook shrugs mid-milkshake sip. 

“I am!” He splutters once he’s gulped down the thick substance. “I just said I was team skirt, did I not?” His scandalized pout twists into the same sneaky little smile he has whenever Taehyung has convinced him and Jimin to do something stupid. “But I’m also a man, and therefore, a skirt chaser,” he winks. 

From the other side of the table Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “Bro, your mind,” he says in awe. He reaches over to shake Jungkook’s hand as if he’s just presented the table with some riveting discovery in the medical field, and the fucker has the nerve to look smug about it too. 

“You guys are so stupid,” Chaeyoung whispers right before the server sets her pancakes down. 

“Hey, have you seen Joon’s book? He said he might’ve left it—oh, Jesus, fuck sorry,” Jungkook says before whirling around to face the wall. 

You turn from your bent over position by your bed where you’d been rummaging around for a book you coulda sworn you stuffed there last week. Jungkook’s blazing cheeks don’t register with you until you realize your favorite skirt is draping over your rear, giving him a clear view of your dorky star-printed panties. 

“Kook,” you stammer, quickly jumping to your feet and brushing your hands over your skirt. “H-How’d you get in?” You ask for lack of greeting. 

“Um, uh,” Jungkook stutters, eyes laser focused on some point on your wall. “Chaeyoung let me in.” 

“Oh,” you say, and then silence falls over the two of you. 

Holy shit this was awkward. 

Despite being friends for going on three years, you don’t ever remember there being any stale moments between you and Jungkook. You were the type of friends that just clicked, never having gone through that awkward phase before. But you’d also never seen each other in any state less than presentable. (Being drunk at parties did NOT count, and even then, you’ve always been pretty collected.) 

To know that he’s seen your ass, covered or not, tilted your Golden Friendship with Jungkook scale extremely off center. Your fingers twiddle at your sides, not really sure if you should mention what just happened or… what?

He coughs, and you snap back to reality. “Um,” he drawls, still not looking at you but at the socks you’d thrown off the second you got home. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice soft and earnest in that Jungkook™ way that made all the girls swoon. “I should’ve knocked before coming in all rude.” He finally gathers the balls to look you in the eye, and the dude looks like a kicked puppy. 

“No,” you wave him off, hands fluttering in front of you because standing like some Macy’s holiday mannequin certainly isn’t making this situation any easier. “It’s okay, the skirt—y’know this wouldn’t happen if I just wore pants,” you say, tacking on a self-deprecating laugh. It’s your turn to look away in shame. 

Jungkook jumps at your words. “The skirt’s cute!” He basically shouts and you flinch at the sudden increase in his tone. Then you’re both left looking at each other wide-eyed again as he scrambles to assure you it isn’t your fault. “I like it, and it makes your legs look really nice, so don’t-“ he stutters, as if realizing the meaning in his words, “don’t stop wearing it...” he trails off, cheeks rosy. Your mind goes blank. 

“R-Really?” You stutter, surprised at his compliment. It’s not like Jungkook never complimented you—dude couldn’t go fifteen minutes without telling his friends how much he loved them—but for some reason it feels different now. 

“Yeah,” he assures you. “Makes you look nice, and um. Pretty.” 

“Jeon Jungkook telling me I look pretty? Someone call TigerBeat magazine,” you joke, trying to ease the tension somehow. Your chuckle sounds awfully robotic to your ears, but it makes Jungkook crack a smile and that’s all that matters. 

“Shut up. You know I’m not friends with ugly people.” 

“Wooow,” you laugh, real this time. “How noble of you,” you retort, and he gives you his best snobby expression possible. 

“Ya, you’re welcome,” he teases, and then suddenly remembers what he came for in the first place. “Give me Joon’s planner, I know you’re holding it hostage.” 

You roll your eyes, and point over to the notebook on your desk that’s absolutely overflowing with sticky notes and bookmarks. “As if I’d want his nerd diary ruining the good vibes in here.” 

“These good vibes smell a lot like Bath and Body Works perfumes, you cheapskate,” Jungkook says as he snatches the book off the surface. He’s at the door again, narrowing you with another faux uppity look when he adds, “this is a Victoria’s Secret Bombshell household.” 

“Bombshe—you don’t even live here!” You huff in laughter, ushering him down the hall to the front door. He’s half a foot out the door when he suddenly whirls around, making you take a step back in surprise. 

“The stars are cute, but I prefer hearts.” 

He slams the door shut behind him so fast, that you almost don’t catch the smirk tacked on at the end. 

You were many things, but a liar was not one of them. You couldn’t lie to your parents when you were younger and wanted to sneak out, to your teacher when she asked where your homework was, or to your friends when they asked you who you liked. You couldn’t even lie to yourself. 

You’ll admit it, there was a time your eyes had lingered a little longer on Jungkook. When you would spend moments tracing the slope of his jawline, and memorizing the twinkle in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and you would be blind not to see it. 

But that was before you became close friends—before game nights at Hoseok’s became a regular staple in your schedule, before your little makeshift picnics in the quad, before you all became Park Jimin’s dedicated fan club (it’s a rotating unit consisting of whoever’s able to go to Jimin’s showcases). 

Those fantasies of kissing Jungkook and going on dates were stuffed to the back as you became pals. As you’ve mentioned a million times now, Jungkook was the campus dream boy. He was hardly the skirt chaser he made himself out to be, too sweet and romantic for his own good. Besides, there was no need to be when the skirts flocked to him. 

He’d had flings, and even girlfriends, in the time you’ve known him, but he rarely mentioned them to his friends. And even though you pushed that teensy crush aside, you still wondered how Jungkook acted with girls he was interested in, if it was the same he treated you and Chaeyoung, or special on an intimate level a platonic friendship could never be. 

It’s the middle of the night when you first get a glimpse. 

[1:21 am] jk wyd 

[1:21 am] you sleeping , u? 

[1:22 am] jk same anyway I finally beat world 8 in super Mario bros

[1:25 am] you omg the 1 w dry bowser?? [1:26 am] you wait u said u wouldn’t play w/o me :/

[1:27 am] jk u suck at Luigi and u know it 

[1:30 am] you fuck u  [1:31 am] you ok but seriously what do u want I have a test tmrw morning and am pretending to be asleep 

[1:32 am] jk damn ok can’t I just talk to my friend about my successes  [1:33 am] jk but if u must know 

[1:33 am] you I must 

There’s a lull in messages for a while, and you decide you should finally actually go to sleep, dabbing some spot ointment onto your skin before hopping in bed. You turned off the overhead light long ago, so the only light illuminating you now is the lamp by your bedside. You tap your phone once again right as Jungkook sends another message. 

[1:40 am] jk you looked really pretty today

Oh. Your entire body pauses for a moment to process the sudden message, cheeks slowly heating up. You roll your lips in to stop the squeal that threatens to rip itself out of your throat, scrambling for something to type. But it’s the first time he’s randomly thrown something like this on you, and your brain feels like that episode of Spongebob when everything’s on fire. 

Before you can send the jumbled letters you’d convinced yourself was acceptable, your phone vibrates with another alert. 

[1:42 am] jk I know its weird to say that but I gotta make sure someone told u at least once today 

Your heart flutters at the explanation, and you have to slap a hand over your face to get rid of the goody smile that overtakes your features. This time, you’re a little less thrown off and quickly tap out a reply before he can say anything else. 

[13:43 am] you thanks kook :) was it the red skirt lol 

You’d been experimenting with different skirts lately, quickly growing bored of the black pleated skirt you’d originally worn. Your latest trip to the mall had you coming home with a variety of colors and styles, like the dark red denim one you’d worn today. 

[1:45 am] jk no!!!! [1:45 am] jk maybe… [1:46 am] jk ok yes you looked gorgeous 

The tiny letters blink back at you, and you set your phone down for a second to smile stupidly at your dark ceiling. You only let yourself wildly kick your legs around for five seconds because Chaeyoung was asleep next door. 

[1:47 am] you haha well I’ll make sure to wear it again for u :)

It’s only after you’ve sent the message that the last two words have you stuffing your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassment. Girl, what the fuck!!!

Oh my god, he could’ve just been friendly and polite this whole time. Jimin had said the skirt looked cute on you as well, and you hadn’t responded like this. All it took was a few compliments from Jungkook to have you dopily acting like a clown for his affections.

Before you can scold yourself anymore, your phone vibrates and you have to sit up to retrieve it from where you’d tossed it across the bed. 

[1:50 am] jk for me? I’m honored :)  [1:51 am] jk anyway get some rest before ur exam!!! [1:51 am] jk night cutie

You squeal, and Chaeyoung kicks your shared wall. 

You liked to clown Seokjin for being the president of his fraternity. He was already a stereotypical frat boy, so it wasn’t that hard anyway; he came from money, was ridiculously gorgeous, and played on your school’s soccer team. However, behind that facade he liked to put up, he, too, was infected by the dumbass disease.

“Wait, are those your legs?” He says the moment you step into his frat party. Normally, he wasn’t prone to the same stupid questions that regularly plagued Taehyung and Jungkook (sometimes Namjoon, but everyone had their weak moments), so you deduce that he probably had some alcohol in his system to openly be asking you such a question. 

“Yes, now give me whatever’s in that cup,” you brush off, not bothering to stick around to watch him not-so-subtly grope Chaeyoung as she enters behind you. You trust him enough to hand you a drink that hasn’t been roofied, but you’re also aware that Jin drinks like he’s trying to die three times over. One sip has your face scrunching up at the sour bitterness of it all. 

There’s a loud cackle of a laugh that you’d recognize anywhere, and you turn to find Jungkook leaning against the staircase banister looking like a wet dream. “Someone lost on their way to Weenie Hut Jr?” he sneers, cheeks a nice rosy color. You flick his forehead. 

You don’t bother gracing him with a reply, instead shuffling over so you’re stood side by side observing the party before you. Yoongi’s here, which is an even weirder sight than your legs being out, so you wonder why no one is talking about that. But then you see the way he’s trailing after Seokjin’s cat, Jalapeño, and realize he’s only here to make sure no one hurts her (she’s more important than anyone else here). You honor his service with another sip of Jin’s whatever the fuck mix. 

“Wow, getting braver every day, huh?” Jungkook teases after giving you a very intense once over. He’s referring to the skirt you’re wearing, a little black circle skirt that flows around you like the first one you’d worn a couple months ago. Call it a tribute to the one that started it all. You’ve definitely experimented with lengths a little more, the one you’re wearing now brushing just barely below your ass. Appropriate for the frat party, but definitely not for your theology elective. 

You hum, stepping aside as a couple makes their way up the stairs. You’re tempted to go tattle on them to Seokjin, but decide against it when you feel Jungkook’s fingers brush against your thigh. 

He grins at the surprised little gasp you let out. “Pretty,” he chuckles, deep and seductive in a way you’ve never seen before. You were used to giggly Jungkook, and Jungkook who laughs like the stepmom from Cinderella, but you’d never seen this one before, the Jungkook who looked and laughed like he was straight out of a Calvin Klein campaign. 

You giggle like a teenager at his compliment, unsure of what else to do so you settle on chugging Jin’s death drink. You only get a good three gulps in before Jungkook’s tugging the plastic cup away from you and setting it down on the nearest flat surface. “Don’t get all drunk on me now,” he jokes, eyes the teensiest bit glassy. He doesn’t look drunk, and he’s certainly not acting drunk. He might be a little tipsy, you think, because a completely sober Jungkook would never have the balls to tug you closer by the waist like this one does.  

Your hands fall flat on his chest, warm beneath the material of his shirt. Not one of his super baggy ones today, but still a bit loose where it could hug his build. “What happened to the little red one? You said you’d wear it for me…” he questions, lips playfully pushing out into a pout. 

You struggle to meet his gaze, focusing on the mole beneath his lip instead. “I, um, haven’t got around to washing it,” you stutter, absentmindedly shifting your weight from side to side. 

“Really?” Jungkook presses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you at all. After a moment in which he ducks down to catch your gaze, he seems to accept. “That’s fine. This one’s cuter anyway.” 

His words are emphasized by his fingers, tracing along the edge of your skirt while purposefully making sure to graze your skin. You shiver, unconsciously arching your chest into him. It’s only afterwards that you realize when Jungkook smirks in triumph. “Easy access too,” he murmurs, and your heart leaps in your chest. 

“Jeon,” you whisper, hyper aware of all the people in this house right now. You’re standing at a point where everyone walks by, and the idea of Jungkook groping you in front of these people, some of which are friends, seems horrifying. “People can see.” 

Jungkook’s Cheshire smile grows even wider, and you muffle a yelp when his hand slips beneath your skirt to grope your ass. “Since when were you shy?” He says, voice soft and lilting over the hum of whatever music is playing now. “Weren’t shy when you had your ass in the air that one day in your room.” 

Your cheeks burn at the memory, but your core surges with a newfound heat at his wandering hands and teasing words. “Remember?” 

You nod, tucking your head against his neck in a last ditch effort to hide your embarrassment. From here, your senses are bombarded with Jungkook and only Jungkook. 

You feel him let out a long sigh. “Been thinking about you since,” he admits. “Nah, even before that. When you wore my shirt that one day after our balloon fight in the west quad.” 

Your heart thunders at his sudden confession. The balloon fight in question had been a little over a year ago, a rallying effort from your friend group to cheer Taehyung up after an exam. After soaking each other to the bone with water guns and balloons, Jungkook had let you wear one of his stupidly big shirts home. So you’d ditched your usual jeans and shirt, wearing his shirt like a dress all the way home. 

The fact Jungkook’s been thinking about you since then makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. 

“Every time you wear these little skirts, I think of that day. You, in my clothes, looking so soft and warm. Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you do to me.” 

You glance around, and your soul almost leaves your body when you make direct eye contact with Yoongi holding Jalapeño across the room. He gives you that Yoongi look, the whatever you’re doing is weird but I won’t say anything because I don’t care look, and that’s your signal to stumble your way upstairs before Seokjin can see you two and scold you. 

You’re not sure who’s room you end up, just that it has one and a half bunk beds in it, so you don’t hesitate to push Jungkook down onto the half. He plops down like a little cherub, all sweet smiles until you see the way his pants strain at the crotch. Of fuck, this is happening, you think as you climb onto his lap. 

His lips envelope yours the second you’re in his arms. You’re not usually one to give into those John Green cliches, but everything about being in Jungkook’s embrace feels so right. Like you belong there, or whatever. 

He’s a good ass kisser, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jungkook was good at everything he did—such was a known fact. But he still kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, like he wants you to melt into him, and he succeeds. His mouth moves against yours, tongue sneaking it’s way past your lips until it’s inside yours, and you’re swapping spit. His breath hot, but you imagine yours is as well because just making out with Jungkook has your body temperature hotter than the inside of a sauna. 

“Jungkook,” you groan when he pulls away, desperate to feel his mouth on yours again. He smiles, lips slick and cherried as he drops his hands to your waist. 

“‘M right here,” he assures you, pressing a few pecks to your mouth before trailing his lips down your neck, deliciously licking and kissing every inch. You let out a choked moan, and you can feel his smile press against your skin. “Cute,” he croons. 

“More,” you beg, fingers curling themselves into his hair. It’s gonna way longer these last few months, the front pieces almost brushing the tip of his nose. He looks sexy as fuck. 

“At least let me stretch you out first,” he teases, face too cute for someone about to fuck your brains out. You huff in annoyance, snatching his hand away from its path to your panties. 

“No,” you whine, and then shuffle forward to grind your center onto him. Jungkook groans, jaw tight as he watches you. “Just fuck me, Jungkook.” 

His eyes roll back at a particular roll of your hips. “I-It’ll hurt, though,” he tries to reason, but his hands are already hiking up the back of your skirt. 

“Make it hurt,” you mumble, so caught up in the moment that your eyes bulge out when he suddenly lifts you to your feet. “What’s wrong?” You huff in dismay, lower lip trembling at the thought of him changing his mind. He lets out an airy chuckle. 

“Turn around for me, doll,” he softly demands, and not a single inch of you feels the need to go against him. 

You’re met with the sight of your own expression, staring back at you from the closet’s mirrored sliding doors. It’s a little dark in the room, most of the light coming from a desk lamp on the other side of the room that had been on when you first broke in with Jungkook. 

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises from behind you, and you watch in the glass as two firm hands snake around your waist, slowly easing you back into his lap. In the seconds you were distracted by yourself, he’d unbuckled the front of his jeans, the cotton fabric of his boxers brushing against your ass. “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, baby?” 

You nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You needn’t worry any longer, your body naturally guiding you through the motions, until one hand grabs his thigh and the other grapples for the bedside drawer next to you. His fingers trace around your waist, hiking your skirt up to—only to reveal a pair of white undies with red hearts. Jungkook’s chuckle against your ear makes you clench your legs together. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this would happen,” he murmurs, and you can’t take your eyes off the mirror as you watch his fingers trace over your covered mound. “Did you?” He asks, breath fanning over your ear. 

“N-no,” you gasp, hips jumping when he presses a lone finger to where your clit would be had your girly panties not obstructed the way. You’re embarrassingly wet just from kissing Jungkook, and his playful fingers only worsen your state. “Please hurry, Kook,” you plead, grinding back against his engorged cock. 

“You sure?” He checks, and your bobble head nods have him muffling more laughter into your shoulder. “If you say so, baby.” 

He lifts you up just the slightest bit to tug his cock out of its confines, and this is the only instance where you wish you weren’t looking at the mirror. His fingers dance along your skin again, tugging your panties to the side. 

Screw it, just do it, you say to yourself before sinking down on his cock in one go. “Oh fuck,” you cry, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder at the sudden intrusion. 

“Holy shit,” he sighs into your hair, one hand circling to the front of your waist, while the other creeps upwards to rub at where he knows your nipple is. If he were to pull your shirt and bra away, he’d see how rock hard your nipples were right now. “Relax for me, doll, I promise it’ll feel better if you relax.” 

You nod, eyes squeezed shut as your body slowly assimilated to the feeling of being stuffed full. God, he felt good inside you. Fit every crevice of you pussy like he was made for you. “Jungkook,” you moan, and he hums in response. “You feel so f-fuckin good,” you babble, swiveling your hips much to both your pleasures. “Can feel you everywhere.” 

He presses a kiss to your scalp. “Can you move for me, baby?” He questions, dropping his hands to your waist before slowly pushing you up so you’re not flopped against him like a rag doll. “Wanna see you bounce on my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

You nod eagerly, desperate to show Jungkook how good you ride dick. You muster up the strength to sit up, one hand right around his thigh again, but this time the other one clamps down over his hand on your waist. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, giving your hips a tight squeeze. 

It’s like you thrive off Jungkook’s compliments, because soon enough you’re riding him like your life depends on it. 

It’s a rhythm of pushing yourself over and over, thighs tense from the effort it takes to pull yourself away from his cock until only his tip breaches you, before dropping back down. You can’t entirely take the credit, because Jungkook’s arms are there, lifting you up before pushing you back down. Truthfully, he’s probably still doing most of the work in fucking you with the way you see his arms flexing in the mirror. 

“Lemme hear you, doll,” Jungkook huffs, and you don’t hesitate to moan for him. It feels overwhelmingly good, his hands tight on your waist as they move you up and down, the material of your skirt bunched up between his fingers. What you’d give to feel them inside you some day, a day in which you’re not dying to feel his cock inside of you. “That’s it,” he grunts, and doesn’t even complain when your legs begin slowing down. 

He picks up the slack for you, thrusting his hips up into you like you’re just some toy for him to use and discard. But the soft praises slipping past his lips assure you you are anything but. “F-fuck,” you whine, forcing yourself above and beyond as you begin to feel that familiar coil of heat grow tighter in your abdomen. “Your cock’s s-so f-fucking big!” You cry, and one look at the mirror let’s you know you look as stupid and fucked-out as you sound. 

“Really?” Jungkook smirks, drilling into you like his life depends on it. There’s an embarrassingly growing stain on the front of your panties that you catch sight of in the mirror, and part of you wants to clench your legs shut so he doesn’t see. But it seems to do it for Jungkook, and he starts rambling about that next. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re ruining your cute little panties. Absolutely fucking soaking them with hot wet you are. I get you that wet, doll?” 

You squeal at a particular thrust of his hips, feeling his cock so deep in you that your eyes momentarily go cross eyed. “Yes, yes!” You agree, bouncing yourself with a renewed vigor. 

The answers please Jungkook, and he rolls forward until he’s pressing his tip faintly against your cervix, and your body damn near leaves your soul. “O-oh fuck!” You scream, body turning into jelly as your orgasm has you spurting hot cum into your panties and over his cock. 

“Pretty even when you come,” Jungkook huffs, hips rocking up into yours for a few more minutes until he eventually comes when you roll your hips backwards. “Holy fucking shit,” he moans, finally releasing your skirt from the death grip he had on it. 

You watch it flutter back into place around you, and you almost look like two platonic friends sitting together, but then Jungkook shifts inside you and your body convulses from the oversensitivity. 

“Wait, you and Jeon finally fucked?!” Chaeyoung exclaims halfway through breakfast, which she had so lovingly prepared at three in the afternoon. “When? Is that why you made us get waxed last week?” 

“No!” You flush, shoving another forkful of burnt scrambled eggs into your mouth. “We waxed our coochies before that, but I didn’t know we were gonna fuck.” 

Chaeyoung blinks. She’s stupid pretty even with avacado spread on her cheek. “So do you have like a seventh sense on when to get your kitty trimmed?” 

“What? No,” You scoff. “Seventh? What’s my sixth?”

“Knowing the exact moment Taehyung’s gonna throw up at a party.”

You accept. “Anyway, we just… I don’t know. It was at Seokjin’s third birthday bash last weekend.” She nods like she remembers anything besides sucking face with him all night. “We were talking and then suddenly we were upstairs and...” you trail off, glancing at your fake collection of succulents lining the kitchen window. 

“Was he good?” She interrogates. 

You flop back onto your chair dramatically. “Chae. He was so good,” you whine, and she slaps your arm in enthusiasm. “He made me ride him facing a mirror,” you spill. 

Chaeyoung squeals. “Bitch!! Here I was thinking Jeon Jungkook was the poster boy of vanilla sex,” she pauses. “I mean, still pretty vanilla compared to the time Seokjin stuck it in my—“ 

You gag and she rolls her eyes. “Have you been talking since?” 

This is the part where things get awkward, and Chaeyoung immediately senses as much. “Oh, honey,” she frowns, eyes furrowed in worry. 

“He walked me home,” you mumble, toying with the tablecloth ends. “Kissed me on the doorstep and all, but besides a few texts, I haven’t seen him around,” you lamely finish. It’s been a week. 

“Ugh, men are trash,” she spits, turning in her seat to play with your hair. “I swear if I see him on campus I’ll rock his shit. My older brother used to practice WWE moves on me, I could easily smash him through a table.”

“WWE wrestling is staged, Chae,” you point out. Chaeyoung was about ten thousand times more experienced when it came to men and their behaviors. She’s been played but also has played, so her reaction to you telling her about Jungkook is all you need to hear. 

In all the scenarios you’ve ever had about Jungkook, him randomly ghosting you had never even been a possibility. The Jungkook from your imaginary universes either just dumped you, or awkwardly friendzoned you. But completely disappearing on you? Now that was some John Greene shit. 

You’ve gone long periods of time without seeing him, like your freshman year you saw him one time in March. But even then he’d made sure to keep in contact with you, randomly blowing up your phone with Cup Pong and 8Ball requests. 

He sent you two texts this whole week, and both of them had been to cancel your homework sessions. 

You almost couldn’t believe you were living this life. The men are trash, love isn’t real, heartbreak can possibly cause death life. Forget John Green, your life had taken an unexpected Shakespearean turn. 

“Oh,” you say the moment you step into Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment, surprised at the fact Jungkook is there despite the fact he, y’know, lives there. In retrospect, you should have seen this coming when Tae had asked you over to help him decorate a poster for Jin’s next game. He’s never been to a single soccer match in his life. “Is Tae here?” You ask, looking every part the stupid bitch. 

Jungkook’s cheeks had flushed the moment he opened the door. “No…” he answers, glances at the shoe rack behind the door as if to make sure. “Were you supposed to meet him?” Well no shit. 

“Uhh, yeah,” you say, and it’s even more awkward than the time he saw your star undies. Granted, now he’s become very familiar with your underwear and what’s hidden beneath it. You would think such an encounter would bring you two closer. “I’ll just come back another time.” 

“Do you wanna come in?” He blurts out before you can even turn away. You flinch at the sudden intensity of his voice, and then both of you are left staring at each other like cringey high schoolers. “I cut some cucumber slices with lime and that one spice you like.” 

“Taíjn?” You confirm, and he nods. “I mean...sure, if it’s not a bother.” 

Usually when you and Jungkook hung out at his place, you’d throw your bag across the room and flop onto the ugly armchair the moment you stepped in. Now, you’re awkwardly hovering by the armrest of the sofa, like this is your first time here. 

Jungkook disappears into the kitchen to, you assume, get the cucumber slices. He comes back empty handed, and with a heavy heart. “I lied. There’s no Tajín,” he confesses, and you rush to tell him it’s okay but he beats you to it. “There’s no cucumber slices either. I just needed to get you inside to talk to you.” 

“You act like I needed to be lured in, Jungkook,” you say, forcing a tight smile on your face. Jungkook visibly deflates at your tone. 

“No, this isn’t right,” he huffs, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. You jump at the loud groan he releases from his position, which is face stuffed into the cushion. 

“You...okay?” You tentatively ask, clutching your bag even closer to your side. Jungkook shakes his head no against the couch. “Should I call Namjoon over?” 

He sits up so fast you worry he’ll get whiplash. “I have a confession to make,” he informs you, doe eyes wide and serious. 

Your brain processes for a minute before slowly responding. “Okay…”

At your response he jumps to his feet. “This may come as a shock, but I’m not a womanizer.” 

You blink. 

“When have you ever been a womanizer, Jeon?!” You nearly exclaim when you mull over his absurd proclamation. “Are there people who actually think that?” 

“I think that people think that,” he stresses to you, running a hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really nice and cool, and sometimes people think that means I’m flirting with them.” Valid point. “But I’m not, because frankly I’m terrible at shooting my shot.”

The fact he’s actually admitted it out loud leaves him devastated, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Finally, something Jeon Jungkook isn’t good at. 

“What lead you to that conclusion?” You carefully press on. 

“Because,” he sighs, dropping back down onto the couch, except this time he’s sitting like a normal person. You sit beside him, close enough to the edge that you can just spring yourself out the door if need be. 

“There’s this girl I like,” your heart pangs, even though the logical side of you can more or less guess where this is going. You’re stupid, but not that stupid. “She’s amazing, like everything about her makes me like her. God, she’s so cool, like everyone wants to be her friend, even though she sucks at Super Smash Bros., and burns her ear on a straightener at least once a month. But she’s funny and sweet, and makes me wanna join a clown troupe just to hear her laugh. And she looks gorgeous in skirts, and the way she rides dic—“ 

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you interrupt, glancing at the coffee table decorated with Jungkook’s anatomy books, because you don’t want to look at the big dopey grin on his face as he talks about you and your dick riding abilities. 

Jungkook grins, this much you can tell from your peripheral, before it drops into a frown. “Whole point is, she’s cool as fuck. And I… I think I might love her,” he admits, and you whip around to face him. His cheeks are as red as Taehyung’s current hair dye, which is to say they’re as red as a fire truck. You get th feeling you're mirroring his expression. 

The silence following his confession seems to drag on an eternity, but truthfully, you and Jungkook both have the patience of a soccer mom of three, so he jumps to fill the spaces between you. “And like, I just wanna kiss her and hold her and watch her eat and cuddle her to sleep and hold her hand and buy her gifts, and I think I would die for her?—”

“Okay chill, Romeo,” you scramble to cut off that train of thought. Jungkook’s looking at you like you were the creative director behind Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker and the trailer released two minutes ago. It’s a weird reference but coming from Jungkook, it means a lot. 

You don’t know what to say, but Jungkook beats you to it anyway. “There’s this girl I like,” he repeats, and your heart does nearly implode on itself when he reaches over to clutch your hand in his. Your hands are sweaty and fidgety from his confession, but so are Jungkook’s. “How do I tell her I like her?” 

You gulp, before reaching over to smack at his bicep much to both your surprise. “Jeon Jungkook! How’re you gonna give me the best fucking of my life and then ghost me for a week, because you’re too much of a pussy to tell me you like me!” You almost want to cry, and you almost do when he wraps you in his arms with a delighted, warm laugh rumbling through his whole body. “You suck,” you huff, and sniffle once, and only once. 

“Thank fuck,” he sighs in relief. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you friendzoned me.” 

“The friendzone—“

“—is a made up concept created by men who feel like they’re entitled to women and their feelings, I know,” he huffs and you laugh. You push yourself away from his chest to meet his gaze, stretching up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turns naughty when you feel the flex of muscles beneath your hands. 

“Ugh, you beefcake.” 

“I wish,” he snorts, tugging you back into his chest as he flops down onto the couch. You snuggle into him, the position all too comfortable in your skirt. The only reason you’re reminded of it is because Jungkook traces his fingers along the edge of the material. “You asked me why I workout out but hide in big clothes, and the truth is its so I can beat up any meninist douchebag that tries to slander my girl in her thot skirts.” 

You sputter. “My thot skirts—you asshole! All my skirts are of appropriate length,” you defend, pinching his side and winning a giggle for your efforts. “That doesn’t even explain the baggy clothes part either.” 

“Shh, your thot skirt is tempting me.” 

“He made you dress up as a what now?!” Chaeyoung exclaims, fork clattering loudly against her plate as everyone in the diner turns to look at you two. You try desperately to quiet her, but the damage is done and even the server whose long since become familiar with your antics looks disgusted. 

“Oh my god,” Chaeyoung sighs, her concern on everything but this public humiliation. “I knew it. I told you he got along too well with Jalapeño, remember?” 

[ NOW WITH A DRABBLE WOW!!! ]

#kpopwonderlandtag #thekpopnetwork #jjk♡ #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jeon jeongguk #mine

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [02]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 3.5k a/n; i know it feels like a lot of bg and internal conflict but y/n!! our girl is struggling! she’s processing and is going through some times BUT things will spice up soon so thank you for all the love +notes, see you again thursday! 

[01] [02] [03]-> masterpost

The two most frequent contacts in your phone (you hope it’s your phone? It’s the same edition and everything) are Jimin and Taehyung. 

Jungkook (or not-Jungkook) high-tailed it out of there as soon as he deemed your reactions unfit for basic human society. He muttered that you were crazy and probably under something, and sped off in his motorcycle just like that. Like you were a stranger. 

It's not easy to ignore the aftermath of your heart after taking yet another rejection, but you're independent and you must stride forward in this strange situation. Taking a cautionary look around the area, you clutch your phone like a lifeline, tethering you together in this unfamiliar place. There's not many people around, but you spot a large library and a playground. Professionals are mulling from building to building, zombies in wrinkled suits and dripping iced coffees. Your phone displays an innocent 7:51, revealing how early it is. Toggling between the two friends in your contacts you take your chances and start with Jimin. The phone rings once, twice, before his dulcet voice chimes in your ear. 

“Babe?” he croons, and your heart drops at the sickly warm tone, “you can’t get enough of me after what we did last night?” 

You’re going to throw up. Scratch that, acid is already bubbling through your throat and you force yourself to tamp it down. There is no, no way in hell could you have hooked up with Park Jimin in your lifetime. 

Unless this is hell. 

“Jimin,” you steel your voice, hoping he can’t hear how absolutely mortified you are. You can picture this version of Park Jimin now, laying around in bed with crossed legs and casually enjoying how much you’re squirming on the other line, “I just need you to tell me where I live so we can move on with our lives.” 

He laughs, giggles bubbling like soft pink champagne. “Wow, I really must’ve fucked your brains out if you can’t even remember where you live.” God, in what life would Park Jimin be “fucking your brains out”? Maybe you should find a trashcan just in case you do puke on the sidewalk. “Y’know, you signed your lease with Taehyung a month ago? You just moved in last week?”

“T-Taehyung?” you stutter, trying to imagine the notion, “I live with Taehyung?” 

A beat passes, and you realize that just like you scared not-Jungkook away, you could be doing the same to Jimin. 

He says your name softly, gone the cocky tone you were initially bombarded with. “Are you okay? You could’ve waited for me to wake up, y’know. We had a lot to drink last night.” he mumbles, almost cutely if it weren’t for the fact the he was insinuating sex two seconds ago, “Did you eat?” 

“‘M fine,” you mumble, trying to chalk up your previous question with inhiberation. “Just loopy, I guess. I almost got hit by a motorbike, so my brain is probably just catching up.” 

“You got hit? Did you call a hospital?” great, now Jimin’s panicked. “Where are you? I’m gonna go get you. Drop your location, I’m leaving now!” 

“I’m fine!” you snip, and you feel bad for nearly screaming on the line. “I’m almost home, I’m just gonna lay in bed and sleep it off. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

You don’t bother hearing his response, and you hang up. You then start to furiously scroll Taehyung’s chat wall, noting that he’s on an academic trip with his students until next week and you have the apartment to yourself. After a good ten minutes of scrolling and reading conversations that you can’t recollect you finally catch the address to your shared apartment. 

The city is the same, fortunately. So are the bus stops, and you’re thankful that your bus pass has some fare money. Turns out you’re starting your journey at the University of Seoul. The bus routes are the same as well, and you manage to take a tour of your side of the city, noting the tiny differences in the town. 

For example, there’s no BigHit Entertainment in its usual spot. Instead it’s an additional practice  space for Cube Entertainment. 

There’s no fanfare to your city tour, and it almost feels like you’re just a normal woman taking a ride home. There’s still the same trees and squirrels, familiar odeng stands and ice cream shops. It feels like you’ve been cut and pasted into this world with no rhyme or reason, a fever dream. 

The bus circles around the usual route once more until you’re in front of your supposed home, only a twenty minute bus ride from where Jungkook almost ran you over. 

It’s a lot, and you realize on the drive over that you’re probably in deeper shit than you could ever imagine. You pull out your keys, and instead of seeing the ramen keychain Jungkook got you when he went to Tokyo Disney, instead it’s replaced by a university ID labeled Assistant Professor under your full name. 

You pin that new fact for later and focus on getting inside.

Your apartment is nice, you muse. Simple black and white furniture, but there’s a definitive home-ness to it. There’s a moss green afghan folded up on the couch, presumably made by the artist himself. You’re glad Taehyung’s appeal for the arts hasn’t been lost, as revealed by the frames on the walls detailing pictures of you and Taehyung’s families, and some of Jimin and Taehyung. 

Deeper into the apartment you find your room. You choke back a sob at the familiar bedsheets your parents bought you at Target, and you even notice some familiar clothing pieces folded haphazardly in the corner. Instead of your bed being filled with shameless BT21 PR however, your RJ and Mang are replaced with simple panda and cat plushies. 

Finally letting your tears fall, you sob loudly into your pillows, hugging and grappling at anything to comfort you. You feel achy and tired, as if your heart has fallen out of your body and nothing can fill the void. As much as your bed sheets feel the same, as genuine as those pictures are in your shared living room, this isn’t your home. 

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━•

Between your bouts of crying and forcing yourself to stomach cheap ramen, you find out a couple of things. 

You’re an assistant professor at Seoul University. At least this version of you is. A little part of you is pleased by this, you have always wanted to teach at the university level before settling with BigHit. To your chagrin however, you’re not a language professor. 

To your horror, you’re a pre-medical student teaching two “History of Neuroscience” classes. It’s only two classes because according to your Google calendar, you’re also balancing the completion of  your final thesis on muscular dystropathy among low-income neighborhoods. 

Dear god, if your parents ever found out you could’ve been a doctor in another life, they’d be surely choking on their own spit. In this world, you probably weren’t lazy and wholly capable of achieving the impossible. 

You don’t know why you spend the next two hours sending emails to your students about cancelling the next week of classes. Fortunately all your lessons are neatly packaged in your drive, and you send out an email with said lessons citing your mental health and how you’ll resume direct instruction the following week. 

From time to time, your eyes can’t help but travel to the frames and polaroids that decorate your walls. Some of the memories are vaguely similar, a house in the suburbs, an annoying cousin who can’t stop and won’t stop pulling at your pigtails, a movie night with unlimited pizza and breadsticks. 

Some of them are far and beyond your state of recognition. Jimin and you playing hopscotch by the river, Taehyung stuffing his face with fried potato skins in a cheap hole-in-the-wall, you winning the blue ribbon at your high school’s science fair. 

You could very well walk out of this life and just focus on going back home, but something tells you that you need to continue on with this life, at least for now. 

It feels too real to be a dream. When you tug at your hair tie, it’s painful when it snaps across your wrist. Your skin blooms with color upon impact. Could you die in this world? If Jungkook had not skidded in time, would you have survived a motorcycle accident? 

Three days pass like that. You’re contemplating, absorbing information. In-between pints of ice cream and crying your ducts out, you’re drawing conclusions. Could you be in a coma? A very realistic, painful coma? But Jimin and Taehyung are still sending you texts and the day turns to night as painfully slow as it always has. A coma can’t fake a forty person class, all of them vying for your attention through various emails and Zoom calls. It can’t be it. 

And as you rummage through your drawers, check every bit of social media and even your yearbook photos, you also confirm that Jeon Jungkook has no place in this version of your life. It saddens you greatly, and reminds you eerily about the heated conversation you had before all of this. The Jungkook from days ago, the one who looked terrified when you tried to touch him, only met you through happenstance. 

By day four, you get a phone call. There’s no picture next to the contact, only named Biggie Mentor. After a few rings, you finally get the courage to answer the call. 

A deep timbre seeps its way through the line, and you almost whine at how much you missed him. “y/n,” Namjoon says, but he doesn’t sound happy, “tell me why our students said you cancelled all of your classes this week due to mental health?” 

If Namjoon’s your mentor, that means you’re probably in deep shit for cancelling all your classes without his consent. 

“Uh, exactly that,” you say, and it hurts how much you have to strain your voice, trying not to pour any type of affection into this version of Namjoon. You’ve always had a soft spot for his gummy smile. “I’m sorry for not telling you beforehand. Something really traumatic just happened and,” you choke back a sob, trying to cover the microphone, “and I really needed some space.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” his voice is like melted honey, and you close your eyes and picture yourself back at BigHit, Namjoon’s happy smile whenever he tries to cheer you up. It only makes you even more upset, and your mind is all shadowed and filled with fuzzies as you attempt to picture Namjoon as your boss, “I was just shocked, that’s all. Is everything alright?” 

“No,” you reply truthfully, “and I don’t know if it will be.” 

There’s a terse silence, both your breaths hanging on the line with no move to continue the conversation. If your personality here is similar to your true world, you would understand why Namjoon would have a hard time formulating a reply. You don’t even know how close you are with him here. What remains is that you’re the type to keep your secrets to yourself, and if they truly felt hindering, you’d tell somebody. Not to say you’re the suffer in silence type of person, but you weren’t one to immediately dump your feelings on someone. 

Finally, Namjoon musters a reply, “I have a break at two. Why don’t you swing by our usual lunch spot and we can talk? Their sandwiches always cheer you up. ”

“Joonie,” your voice cracks, and you shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you. A slip of the nickname comes out before you can help it, and you hope this Namjoon is fond of the manner. “I don’t know where that is. Or what our ‘usual’ spot is. I don’t know what sandwiches you’re talking about either.” 

“Okay,” and you relax at the calmness in his tone, “I’ll swing by after my 5PM then. Set the table for us, yeah?” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Namjoon smells of dry-erase marker and antiseptic. 

He’s bounding into your apartment like it’s his own home, carrying two paper bags and a stack of leather bound books. The items fly across your coffee table, and you two work together to organize both your dinner and the books. Namjoon looks like a textbook nerd, wearing shades of burgundy and burnt orange as he breaks into your front door. Gone are the boots and sleek outfits that trim his figure, and you can’t help but go a little anti-starstruck at how normal this moment is.

But what remains is the bumbly stance as he makes his way through your tiny space, long limbs and all flailing to help you place his work in a safe space. The curve of his nose and dimples so deep you could fill a lake in them, you can’t help but muster a shy smile as he takes notice that you’re staring at him a little too much for comfort.

The two of you eat in relative silence, and you gratefully accept the bag he pushes in your direction. To your surprise the sandwich inside is a favorite combination of yours, and you wonder if this restaurant exists in your world. 

Your world. 

“Namjoon,” you place your sandwich down, despite the fact that your stomach is protesting for you to finish the first real meal you’ve had in days, “you know that movie, Avengers?” 

Namjoon’s face is puffed with bread, and you hand him a water bottle to chug it down. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “Marvel isn’t a popular franchise, so even if I had I wouldn’t remember.” 

“Marvel isn’t popular—” what kind of fucked up world is this? Your Jungkook would have a field day if he was in your shoes. “Anyway. There’s a concept from Marvel that there’s multiple Earths. Like you can create a rip in space and land yourself in another dimension if you’re not too careful. Do you think it’s possible?” 

Your tall mentor pushes his charcoal hair back, exasperated. “Is this why you’re taking off? Because you believe in some silly comic book series?” 

You feel your heart cracking, desperately trying to keep itself together. In your haste you grip Namjoon’s arm, desperate. “Please, just hear me out.” you warble, “a few days ago I was out drinking with a friend. Next thing I know, I’m in another world where I run into a boy. That boy is my friend, but he says he doesn’t recognize me! But I don’t recognize this life. Namjoon I can’t even imagine you wanting to be a doctor!” 

Namjoon is looking at you funny, and you know he’s really trying to believe you. Instead of the reassuring words you hope for, he instead says, “this isn’t even pseudoscience, y/n. This is supernatural! How could you possibly think you’re from another dimension? I just saw you last week and everything was fine!” 

“I saw you last week too!” you exclaim, clutching your chest, “and you cried again for the umpteenth time because you lost another pair of custom Airpods.” 

A pause. “That does sound like me.” 

Hope blooms in your stomach. “Doesn’t it?”

“Well, in this supposed other life. What is my profession?”

Your face falls. “Uh, you’re in a worldwide K-pop band. You’re making millions and producing beautiful music.” 

That sounded way better in your head. Out loud it sounded absolutely bonkers. You don’t even blame Namjoon when he bursts out laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. You let him, sinking further into your seat and hugging your knees. You really hoped Namjoon would’ve come through for you. 

However you’re not laughing along with him, and he immediately stops at your teary expression. He pushes himself over to you with his long legs, quickly moving to prevent yourself from tucking into your shell. He sees how small your form becomes and he reaches over to place a hand over your hair. “You’re really upset over this, aren’t you?” he questions aloud, and he can’t piece it together, “did you hit your head or something?” 

Defeated, you explain, “I may have gotten hit by a motorcycle the other day.” 

“What?” he squeezes your shoulder, “well, that explains a lot! What if you’re hallucinating? What if you have a concussion? You could be suffering from short-term memory loss!” 

You’re sure it’s none of those things, but you let him ramble. The explanation is clear-cut and so painfully normal that it’s the only conclusion that Namjoon will cling to. Your mentor insists you take a medical leave, and says he’ll take over your classes in the meantime. He gives you a number to call, explains there one of the best doctors for trauma and motor incidents. You don’t say anything to that, but you accept the number and lie when you say you’ll call them in the morning. Namjoon still treats you like a friend however, despite your fruitless confession, and you concede that his comfort is more than enough after such a rough week. 

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━••

It’s been nearly two weeks since you’ve contacted Jimin. 

Sure, Jimin’s contacted you. A couple flirty texts here, some low-key sexy selfies there. Usually, you’d eat that up like honey and butter. Now, there’s only one-word replies and half-hearted attempts at continuing a conversation. He loosens his tie, thankful he’s working out of the office today. He can look at his phone all he wants, and no one will judge him. 

Jimin finally looks up at the photographer his marketing company contracted, who’s still mulling over the contract. “We’re not trying to jip you, promise.” Jimin assures, and he almost laughs at the comical way the young man’s large eyes catch his concern. “You’ll get all that money, and then some if you need to work overtime. It’s a sweet gig.” 

“Yeah,” the young man nods, and grabs the pen to sign at the bottom. “Looking forward to working with you.” 

“Same to you, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin grins, meeting him halfway across the table, “I’ve seen your work, I’m sure the commercial will be beautiful.” 

“You can call me Jungkook,” the new employee flashes him a quick grin, taking his palm in his. Jimin tries not to twitch at this cute kid, who is both devastatingly handsome and cute at the same time. He’s a little jealous, a little attracted. 

“Great, because Mr. Park is my dad. Jimin’s fine.” 

It’s then that Jimin’s phone lights up, both pairs of eyes darting to the picture of you decorating the wallpaper. 

While it’s not a completely flattering picture (you’re asleep with your wire-rimmed glasses half-off and there’s drool dribbling down your chin.) However it’s definitely you, the person Jungkook nearly killed a couple days ago.

Jungkook’s mouth goes dry, and he lets go of Jimin’s hand like it’s fire. Jimin hardly notices, grabbing his phone in hope that you replied to his text. To his despair, it’s just Taehyung. He ruffles his hair in frustration, letting the slick ebony strands fall out of his hairstyle.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses, shoving his phone in his blazer. 

“Everything alright?” Jungkook asks, trying to be polite. On the other hand, he’s rather curious about the girl from weeks ago, who still hasn’t left his mind. 

In the heat of the moment, Jungkook left the scene with you blubbering on the road. How wide your eyes were with recognition, and almost mother-like as you coddled him like someone to protect. He’s felt bad about it since, but he had an interview with Jimin’s boss and he couldn’t blow a job opportunity. It couldn’t be helped that your sad expression has been his midnight fixation when he can’t sleep or has a creative block. He should’ve at least called a cab to take you to the hospital or something, you were clearly not in the right mind. 

“Yeah, it’s just a friend.” Jimin forces a smile, not wanting to dump his baggage on the new employee. “She almost got hit by a motorcycle the other day,” Jungkook masks a wince, remembering the horror he felt when he saw you, just lying there across the street. “Ever since then, she just hasn’t been herself. I’m just worried. It’s like she’s seen a ghost or something.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook steals a glance at Jimin’s phone again, hoping to see your picture light up again. He does feel a little guilty pushing you off him and running away, but then again it was you that started being weird. 

How did you know him, and why were you so concerned for his well-being? Would he get fired if he asked Jimin about you? That would be the quickest job he ever got contracted for. Instead, Jungkook forces a smile and offers a neutral, “Well, I’m sure things will work out.” 

“Thanks, I hope so too.” 

Jungkook’s palms are sweaty, as if it’s a dark premonition that something will happen. With Jimin around supervising him, he has a feeling that if things don’t work out, things will happen regardless. 

Maybe he’ll understand why you were so concerned for a stranger’s well-being, and why you looked at him like that. 

Like someone in love. 

#jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook fluff #goldenclosetnet #thekpopnetwork #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #bts fluff #jungkook scenarios

[reptile-garden]

My and my vet(also my boss) are at our wits end with my roommates cat.

He has decided that my room and my room alone is a fun place to pee.

We’ve tried more litter boxes, drugs, a collar that’s part of a barrier system that my vet approved of for use in cats(the box does stay it’s okay for cats).

The collar worked for a bit but now it’s no longer working. The drugs work for the most part but not 100%

Closing my door isn’t an option because that blocks off my cats safe space from my dogs, and in the summer it would get to warm if my door was shut and put my other animals in there in danger.

And putting up other things won’t work because it will scare my cat.

Can’t get a cat door with a microchip reader on it because of how the door is built/we rent and can’t damage the door like that and don’t have the option to buy a door and damage it since we don’t have the tools to cut out the hinge area.

My roommate doesn’t see this as an issue because it’s not her things that are being destroyed, and isn’t doing anything to help find a solution.

I am trying to save up to buy my own house and move out hopefully by the time the next lease sign comes around but between my emergency medical bill, and just life in general I don’t think I’ll have enough by next July.

I want to toss the cat outside, I WILL NOT do this as I’m a huge advocator for indoor only cats and do not believe cats belong outside w/out supervision.

I put down fake  linoleum over the carpet to make clean up easier, moved what I can away from the ground so he can’t ruin it but I’ve already lost so much stuff to him that can’t be replaced due to it either having an  emotional value, being out of print, or me refusing to give JK any more money after the shit she’s pulled (all older stuff that I got before she turned into a  garbage human)

I’m just so frustrated and feel like I’ve lost the one area that’s mine and mine alone. I’m at a loss of what to do next and emotionally exhausted.

He pissed in one of my plants recently and I need to figure out how to get the smell out with out having to repot the entire thing.

It could be a low battery making the collar weaker than normal so I’ll going to try changing that and hope for the best.

#mini rant #rant #catblr #vetblr #vet tech #vet tech stuff #vet tech things

[scary-lasagna]

Jeff, EJ, LJ, Toby, and BEN with a partner that can speak to dead people?

Jeff

Oh nononon hELL NO

Jeff hates anything paranormal, ironically.

The only ghost he's ever come into contact with is Ben and that's only cause they smoke weed together 

nah jk he loves him,

 and even then Ben creeps him out sometimes by sticking his head through the wall.

Jeff gets spooked real easily, to say the least.

So you better not be bringing any ghosts or ghostie equipment into the house if you want to live with Jeff.

One of his worst nightmares is his victims finding some way to come back to haunt him.

You don't have the heart to tell him a lot of the spirits are attached to him, probably forever.

Eyeless Jack

"O h."

Jack doesn't think much of it, really.

He's a paranormal entity himself, so of course, ghosts had to be real.

He'll check in on you if you happen to be staring at a corner, making sure you're alright.

He won't be afraid to out-spook any ghosts that might be lingering around you.

He might get a lil jealous, ngl.

From Jack's experience with ghosts, he thinks a lot of them can be flirty.

But really, they just need assistance in moving on.

After explaining this, he'll eventually try to coax you to get Ben to move on after he hid all of Jack's medical books in the attic behind a spider web.

Laughing Jack

Like Jeff, he's a little weary of his victims returning from the dead to get in one last hit.

Jack is better at hiding his anxieties, though.

He'll ask you teasingly who've you talked to today.

"I talked to this girl named Irene this morning, care to explain how you knew her?"

"..."

"u h."

Victims, and any past deceased girlfriends, for that matter.

He's scared of ghosts of his victims, not ghosts in general.

Jack isn't afraid to try and show the ghost up, "This is my house now ghost-man, fuck you!"

Chaotic feral man energy, do not bring him ghost hunting.

Ticci Toby

Death is a bit of a touchy subject for Toby.

Between the balance of his job which requires deaths on the daily, and the car crash that resulted in the loss of his sister, the topic of death doesn't leave his mind.

Not to mention he's an axe-wielding maniac-

It's a mental debate whether you should tell Toby or not.

Because you know if you did tell him, he'll ask for you to be a medium with his late sister.

She tends to poke her head in to check on Toby often, or just simply passes through to see if he's breathing.

If you're lucky, you might get to have a conversation. Sometime's she's busy doing "Ghost things."

She'll give you a little message to pass on to Toby, who will get a bit overwhelmed at first.

But he'll calm down and collect himself, smearing any stray tears on his sleeve.

Unlike you thought, he doesn't press on to hear any further things Lyra had to say.

He'll keep quiet about the whole thing.

Ben

He's like " :OO DAS ME!! I'm DEAD PEOPEL!!"

Ben's a ghost, so he's talked to dead for all of his undead life.

He claims he's talked to the ghost of Tom Jones but no one believes him.

You two probably met bc he was busy terrorizing people and he couldn't scare you because you could see him squatting on top of the tv, turning it off and on in just his boxers.

"I wasn't expecting anyone to be able to see me-"

Ben's just chill with it honestly.

Although he gets aggravated when he can't sneak out because you spot him phasing through the front door at 2am.

"I was going to bring you back something, don't woorrry."

"Don't lie to me you little shit."

You're allowed in the Ghost Squad and the Ghost Squad group chat.

All of Ben's friends think you're cooler than he and it makes Ben jealous as all hell.

#Jeff #laughing jack #Ben #ticci toby #toby #jtk #Jeffery woods #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #ghost #dead

[poplinn]

I do think that the new outbreak of toxic people drumming up their toxic groups in this fandom is hurting people. They think theyre doing something right but all they're doing is making mentally ill and/or young fans too scared to enjoy or create in fear of being harassed.

Hi anon! first of all i want to apologise for responding so late. I have a lot to say about your ask and just wanted a clear head before i decided  to respond. i want to start  off by saying you are absolutely right.

Before i continue i am going to put a read-more because, well, i have a LOT to say about this, so, mini-rant ahead under the read-more…

These people are doing more harm than good.

I understand if you want to make a small list with content warnings, for a fandom, that is completely fine! But using such a list to start bullying, harassing, threatening and in general, witch-hunting people is not okay. Many great and talented people have been driven away from the fandom by that tiny toxic group(or the cucks, as i like to call them for easy sakes). Content creators are even scared to post their content too now, both of these things are a huge shame. It’s terrible. Sites like tumblr are supposed to be for sharing your content without limitations. [well, until the nsfw ban, but you get what i mean..]

I happen to be in contact with some people on the blocklist, and let me tell you, they are truly amazing and wonderful people. 

Yeah sometimes people make content you may not agree with, but that doesn’t mean you have start attacking people for it. Do you know how easy it is to click the unfollow or block button? But apparently some people are so stupid they prefer to screech instead of click one single button. 

But for example, I dislike a certain popular hc for medic. I dislike the Jewish medic hc. I’m a Jewish man myself, but I don’t like seeing Jewish medic for multiple reasons, none of which are out of antisemitic nature. What do I see when I see Jewish medic? I mind my own fucking business. The person who posted that wanted to create that, fine by me. I don’t agree with it, and I don’t have to. I’m not going to make a dumb expose list for everyone who ever said anything about medic being Jewish. I mind my fucking business like a normal, mature person. 

And there was/is a huge discussion about drawing or writing tf2 non-con…yeah, rape isn’t good. Every sane person knows that. Writing or drawing rape does not mean you’re a rapist (unless it’s an autobiography of course, then I’d like you to take a trip to prison). But, some people, including myself, write or draw non-con as a coping mechanism. I use confrontation to cope. I have a few triggers, and by confronting myself with said triggers I’m slowly getting over said triggers.

If I write or draw about these triggers or rape, I feel like I’m relieving my feelings about what happened to me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, and i’m not the only person who does it like that. 

Yeah, I get people don’t always want to see that. That’s why tags exist, that’s why people use those tags for content and trigger warnings. That’s why you block those tags if you don’t want to see it.  It’s that simple

Also, some of them make the claim that fiction is reality. I disagree, fiction is not reality. Yes, fiction can impact reality, but it isn’t one and the same. If you can’t distinguish fiction from reality then, well, you’re either not ready for fiction or not old/stable enough to be able to tell the two apart. Besides, if fiction really IS reality then so many movies and books would have been banned, or the writers of those must have been in jail by now, right? Writing a book about a fictional serial killer does not mean the writer is planning to or already has commit murder. Take Tf2 fan-fiction writers for example. They write about dudes slaughtering each other on a daily basis, but some of them wouldn’t even DARE to hit a fly in real life. 

People who commit crimes because of a fictional piece were already going to do so to begin with. No sane human sees a crime that occurs in fiction and thinks to do the same. Those who do commit crimes because of a fictional piece were already planning to do so to begin with, and were probably not a completely hundred percent stable person.

And about the discussion of miss p being a lesbian, yeah I get that Jay said she’s gay and that, and if she really was a Canon lesbian, it’d be weird to ship her with men. However, those cucks do also make soldier a homosexual despite him having a (gorgeous) wife? Isn’t that kind of hypocritical? Anyways, Jay most likely was joking about miss p being gay, he’s known to be a jokey person like that. I feel like the way he did it was just saying “oh yeah btw she’s gay”. To me it feels vague. In the same sense that jk Rowling suddenly says everyone is gay in Harry Potter. Yeah, I hc her as a funky lil lesbian too, but i don’t go off on a tangent when someone sees her as bi, because the way she was “confirmed” as a lesbian, was vague and uncertain, and most likely a dumb joke that split the fandom in half.    

Anyways, most of the cucks I ran into are underage, and aren’t even allowed on this site, which can explain their irrational behaviour, and refusing to listen to anyone who slightly disagrees with them, but lemme tell y'all something, minding your own fucking business would have prevented this entire blocklist ordeal.

Besides, YOU are in control of what you see on the Internet. Don’t like a certain type of content? BLOCK IT! or just, STOP LOOKING AT IT! it’s not that hard!

You are responsible for your own experience on the Internet. Not ready for that? Then close your phone/laptop and go outside. Content creators are not responsible for what you do online, these creators don’t know you, don’t expect them to fucking take care of you, they’re not your parents. Avoiding certain content does NOT mean you have to start policing others on what to post. You have no right to tell artist what they can and cannot post. Again, you may criticise or dislike it, that’s fine, but actively demanding censorship or threatening the creator makes you look like an incompetent asshole. 

And if you disagree with something, it’s better to start with calming yourself down and contacting the OP in a respectful and mature manner. Maybe talk to them, broaden your horizon, broaden their horizon. Can’t agree eventually? That’s fine, it’s normal. Simply block the tag or the creator themselves and boom! You’re done, and didn’t harm anyone in the fandom and probably learned something, and OP probably too! If something isn’t tagged you can always, nicely, reach out to OP and ask them to tag. Most of the time they will. And if they don’t, just unfollow or block them if they continue posting a certain something that triggers you. Making a blocklist is one of the most immature things you could do. You bully and harass people to the point where some feel unsafe, and some even suicidal, in a fandom about a dumb fucking hat Simulator. Is that really what you want?? A fandom is supposed to be a safe and fun place for everyone who likes a certain something. By being toxic, and harassing others to the point where they don’t even feel safe(not only those who are young or mentally ill) in a what was supposed to be a safe place for them, you’re actively harming that safe place, and frankly, you don’t deserve to be in the fandom. 

Also, I’ve seen a lot of these cucks say they actually hate tf2 as a game, and really, if you hate the game so much why are you still here in the fandom? And ruining it for the rest for us?

If you do feel unsafe, follow steps I mentioned above. Talk to people, block tags, block people, and mind your own business without policing others in what they can and cannot do. Unfortunately, the creators who do feel unsafe because of the toxic group cannot talk them, because the moment someone even slightly disagrees with them, or tries to respectfully discuss why they’re being “cancelled” the cucks start screeching like full-blown autists.

You’re not the law enforcement, you are (most likely) a minor who isn’t even allowed on tumblr in the first place, and who has no idea how the internet, or fandom spaces in specific, even work.

Fucking hell I miss 2014 Tf2 fandom sometimes. 

~~

I hope this ramble makes sense, and again I’m sorry for making this so long.

And I’m sorry for posting drama again, I don”t like it either, and i usually have a lot of patience, but after a few years of this shit, i have come to reach my boiling point, and i just snapped, I’m sorry.

I sometimes refer to the cucks as you, idk why, but just now that isn’t referring to you anon.

Hopefully this will be the last of drama/discourse for now.

Thank you for reading, have a good day. 

-pop 

#drama #discourse #Anonymous #TF2 #tf2 blocklist

[prettyyoungtragedy]

Written in the Stars (9)

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You’re the type of woman who is headstrong and fiercely independent. Heiress to a fortune and one of the most brilliant minds of the 21st century. Until you’re forced into witness protection. Your “Protection” turns out to be 220 pounds of dreamy, sassy, delightful Bucky Barnes. Whatever could go wrong?

Warnings: Violence, bad language, angst for days!

A/N: Okay so naturally you’re all mad at me for the last chapter, but here is the angsty follow up! This one is just pain and panic and nothing good especially at the ending. It’s angry Bucky and a whole lot of tears! If you want me to make it better, say something nice? hahaha jk thank you all for reading it!

This was generously Beta’d by my beta @suz-123 , without whom this fic wouldn’t get done!

Links are being a bitch so you can find the whole fic in my WIP masterlist in my bio!

Taglist is closed!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

James you fucking idiot. You dumb stupid fucking idiot. You moron. You distracted foolish fucking idiot! 

His mind berates him. 

Panic, anger, terror, pain all flash through him the second that bomb goes off, he feels the heat of the bomb, pain as the air is knocked out of him and he is thrown across the landing. Bucky had not felt terror like that in a long time, not since he woke up strapped to that table almost eighty years ago. He feels helplessness like he’s never felt before when he sees your eyes shut and the debris starts to fall, he feels terror when he sees your body slam into the wall and he feels anger when he can’t get to you in time.

His ears are ringing, a dull throb starts on the side of his head and his vision is blurred by redness before he rubs his eyes furiously. Blood covers his metal arm when he looked down at it after touching his face, but he doesn't care. He needs to get to you, the smoke and dust from the bomb cloud his senses and Bucky violently shakes his head to rid himself of the lethargic feeling that's settled over him.

The first thing he sees is you laying a few feet away from him, and everything else is forgotten. Bucky surged to his feet, stumbling dizzily towards you he scooped you up into his arms and cradled you close.

“Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes,” he begged softly, there’s so much blood he doesn’t know whether it’s yours or his, but your eyes remained firmly shut. He dropped to his knees and fumbled for his phone in his pocket, but when he pulled it out the screen was smashed to shit.

He cursed loudly and touched the comms in his ear. It crackled to life and he heard Sam’s frantic voice on the other end.

“Bucky? Bucky?! Fucking hell Bucky!”

“Yeah, Yeah Sam I’m here, there was a-”

“We’re coming, hold on. Steve is already there.”

As Sam said that, Bucky sees Steve charging across the hallway from the fire escape stairwell. He’s already got his shield in his hand and the moment he saw Bucky crouched there with you in his arms, he rushed towards him.

“Give her to me,” Steve demanded urgently, and for a moment Bucky doesn’t want to. He’s too scared to let you go, he’s scared if he does and you die it will be his fault.

“Bucky, please. We have to get her out of here, the smoke inhalation could kill her.” Steve urged again his hands reaching for your unconscious body in Bucky’s hands and Bucky relents, letting Steve take you.

There’s an exchange, Steve gave him the shield and he takes you. Sam breaks through the nearby window, letting some of the smoke out of but it does nothing to help them.There is smoke rapidly filling the hallway, the heat from the fire that has started prickled over Bucky’s skin and he knows they have to get out of here before the fire hits a gas line.

Sam is beside him, he quickly moved to help Bucky up grabbing him by the arm and slinging it over his shoulders, the other wrapped around his waist. Bucky stumbled and coughed up blood wiping it away without a second glance,  he feels pain lance through his side and both him and Sam looked down and see an ugly metal rod protruding from his abdomen.

“Fuck,” Sam muttered, “That is going to hurt coming out,” 

“Yeah no shit,’ Bucky groaned, he placed his hand around the metal, and hissed slightly as he jostled it in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

Outside the wail of fire truck sirens and people shouting can be heard, and then another explosion rippled through the floor, knocking Sam and Bucky to the ground. 

They needed to get out of there, and fast.

~~~

Bucky Barnes had never been so fucking terrified in his entire life, the terror had burrowed itself so deep within his soul at that moment that he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

Steve rushed you off to the medics at the tower the moment they got there, Sam forced Bucky to sit through a medical checkup himself. Helen Cho had one of the nurses look him over, and he tried to argue that he was fine, but no one would listen to him.

Sam firmly placed a hand on his shoulder and warned him that if he tried to get up again, he would knock him out and this shuts Bucky up.

He cursed loudly, resisting the urge to punch Sam in the face as he helped the nurses pull out the metal that had plunged itself into his body and he shut his eyes, breathing through the nausea as he refused anesthetic and forced them to stitch him up. 

Once the wound in his abdomen had finally stopped bleeding, he threw back two of Tony’s special concoctions he whipped up for the super soldiers to speed up their healing. 

He waited with irritable patience as one of the nurses stitched up his head wound wincing every few seconds as she jabbed the needle less than gently into his skin, and the one of his jaw, and the various cuts and wounds he had elsewhere. Bucky continually flexed his metal arm in an attempt to stave off the panic attack that was building inside him every time he thought about you.

“You’re good to go,” The nurse said nodding at him, “But I’d recommend a week’s rest before getting back into the field.”

“Those stitches on your abdomen need more than a few days of healing, so careful not to rip any of them.” She added as he brushed off her offer for painkillers. 

“Thanks,” he muttered before he shakily stood up and walked off. As he made his way down the hall of the med-bay, Bucky saw Steve and Sam standing near one of the rooms. They seemed to be engaged in a serious argument of sorts, but the pair immediately stops when they see Bucky.

Relief floods Steve’s expression as he regards Bucky,

“You doing okay, pal?” He asked walking towards him,

“Yeah fine, what’s the verdict?” Bucky replied brushing off his question even though he knew he probably had a good few broken bones and contusions and his entire body screamed at him in pain. He didn’t care, his serum would heal him in a couple of hours.

“C4 wired to trip when the door opened, on the floor thankfully there were no casualties. The Iron Legion managed to get everyone out the building in time but the top three floors are gone.” Sam said,

“And…” He hesitated looking between the two men before him,

“And she is fine, well not really, a couple cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder, bruises, slight burns here and there and a concussion. But she will live.” Steve said nodding knowingly,

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered running his grimy bloodied fingers through his hair, “I should go see her,”

“No no, that’s not a good idea yet.” Steve shook his head firmly,

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because you need answers for her and you don’t have any besides she isn’t awake yet. Cho is keeping her in a sedated state in case she you know, freaks out.” 

“Yeah not everyone is used to almost being blown to bits,” Sam added, “That’s more of an us thing.” 

“Glad you can still joke about this,” Bucky said to Sam with a glare, 

“You’re supposed to protect her and if you walk in there thinking with your heart and not your head you’re going to look like a real idiot.” Steve said firmly. 

It sounded harsher than Steve had intended but Bucky fell silent, he had a fucking point and that irritated Bucky. He was thinking with his heart and not his head that’s why they ended up in this mess in the first place. He’d forgotten the cardinal rule of being a bodyguard, survey the area before you take your protection detail into a room and he’d been so wrapped up in you that he didn’t think to do that.

“Do you want to talk-” Steve started to say when he sees the look on his face,

“No,”

“Bucky,”

“Shut up Steve. I am fine.”

“Okay, well, you look like shit, go shower or something,” Sam stated, he was trying to lighten the mood but this doesn't help Bucky in any way. He just wants to see you. “How many stitches did they give you all together?” 

“Seventy six,” 

“Damn new record,” 

“Is she still with Cho?” Bucky asked ignoring Sam’s comment,

“Yeah,”

“Let me know when she’s done, I’m going to see Tony.”

A curt nod from Steve before Bucky walked off in the direction of Tony’s lab. He needed advice and for someone to yell at him. Tony Stark was candidate number one for both at that moment.

“Tony?” Bucky’s voice sounded through the lab, it's dimly lit but he can hear the Ironman tinkering away at something.

“Back here,” A muffled voice called out, and Bucky followed the sound until he finds Tony beneath a table, a screwdriver in his mouth and multiple wires sticking out of one of the Iron Legion suits.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Tony exclaimed quickly getting up when he sees Bucky’s appearance.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Bucky quickly ran through what had happened that night, he left out no details. Down to the fact that he’d kissed you and fully intended on sleeping with you, and Tony just listened with a thoughtful expression on his face.

When Bucky was done, Tony sighed deeply and shook his head.

“You can’t blame yourself, Manchurian,” He said softly, “This wasn’t your fault.”

“Then whose was it? Because it was me that was supposed to protect her and I got fucking distracted because I want to fuck her, I lost focus on the purpose of why I’m here.” Bucky retorted, he was madder at himself than anything.

“Yes but you couldn’t have known about the bomb, which makes me think who the fuck had access to the system in the safe house and how’d they get in and out without us knowing or alerting FRIDAY?”

Tony asked some good questions, and both men looked at each other for a moment, before Bucky’s mind kicked back into work mode.

“We need to see the footage from tonight, everyone who had access to that building. Run facial recognition and bio metric patterns on every single person, I want to know the name of everyone who was in that building.” Bucky demanded, and Tony just nodded already pulling up a screen to get to work. “Sam said it was C4 rigged to go off when the door opened,”

“It’s an insider, it has to be. There is no one else that could have known about that safe house.”

“There were a lot of people there today,” Tony commented as he went through the footage.

“Yes, yes, but I ran background on all of them, there has to be someone we missed.”

“But you don’t miss things,” Tony pointed out arching an eyebrow at him,

“Yeah well, I was a little distracted today, fuck.”

“Hmmm who was assigned to her today?” Tony asked,

“What do you mean?”

“Her detail? Who was in charge?”

“Sam, myself and Steve, why?”

Tony frowned at the screen, “So who's the STRIKE agent who’s doing a very good job at hiding his face from the camera entering the apartment and leaving without being seen?” He mused,

Bucky immediately moved to Tony’s side and peered down at the footage on the screen. He stared at it for a good minute rewinding and re-watching the footage again and again, there was a familiarity to the way this person moved and walked and for the life of him, Bucky could not place who it was.

“I have no fucking idea who that is,” He muttered defeated.

~~~

The first thing you felt when your consciousness woke was just radiating pain across your skull. It’s like a sledgehammer being battered against your head. You groaned and tried to move, the memory of what had happened before you were knocked unconscious shattering through the lethargy that occupied your consciousness and you jolted awake. 

Heat, smoke, fire, pain, debris, that was a fucking explosion. Your eyes force themselves open and your head immediately spins in protest. 

You gasped for breath and forced your body upright, the muscles screaming in protest and pain wracked through your body.

A strangled cry escaped your throat as your eyes registered your surroundings, white walls, metal single bed, you were hooked up to various IVs and other machines, everything smelled sterile and lemony. A hospital and your first thought was Bucky.

Bucky.

The last thing you remember was being throw across the room and you seeing him take the brunt of the explosion as he tossed you behind him. You knew you fucked up, you should have been behind him, he was going to yell at you for that. 

Your mind is scrambling through the memory of the explosion, how many hours had passed? where was Bucky? What the hell had happened to you? Your eyes looked down at your body clad in a cotton hospital gown and you see the various injuries on your body, cuts, stitches, wounds, all gauzed up.

The watch on your wrist was going off incessantly as was the heart rate monitor you were hooked up to. Ignoring the shooting pain in your shoulder and side of your head you pulled out the IVs and other machines hooked up to you.

“FRIDAY?” You spoke to the watch on your wrist,

“Yes?”

“Where’s Bucky?”

“Sergeant Barnes is in the lab with Tony,” She responded,

“Call him for me,”

“I have been given orders not to do that yet,”

“What the fuck, by who?”

“Captain Rogers,”

“He can’t do that,”

“Unfortunately he can, he outranks Sergeant Barnes and my programming doesn’t allow for anyone to override an order once it’s given,”

“Fucking bullshit,”

“I am sorry,” The AI said softly and you ignored her. You got out of the bed, wincing in pain as your bare feet touched the cold floor, your legs buckled slightly and you gasped. Pain wasn’t even an apt word to describe how you felt at that moment, your ankles feeling like they had seen better days, your whole body is screaming in protest, head spinning, ribs tender, your eyes watered from it.

“I would advise staying in bed, you have multiple contusions, a dislocated shoulder, several stitches and staples and a concussion” FRIDAY stated but you ignored her grimacing again at the pain radiating through your left arm.

You looked around the room and spotted clothes that had been neatly folded and left there. Assuming they were for you, you quickly make your way over to them and pull them on. A black sweater, dark shorts and a pair of sneakers. Every movement you made, your arm screamed in pain the sling it was put in didn’t help for shit and the brace your wrist was in was in the way and annoying so you pulled it off. 

Your body was still covered in dust and blood, you needed a shower and badly but you wanted to get out of here first.

As you moved towards the door, you tried opening it but it didn’t budge. You tried, again and again, jimmying the handle becoming increasingly frustrated.

“FRIDAY?”

“I’m here.”

“Why is the door locked?”

“Sorry, Captain’s orders.”

“Open the door, please.”

“You do not have the authority to override Captain Rogers orders, I am sorry.”

“Open the fucking door,” You insisted through gritted teeth,

“No.” The defiant response from her makes you grown in frustration and kick the nearby chair only to groan in pain and keel down to your knees. You were suddenly feeling dizzy, the blood rushing to your head. Of course, you were, you had a fucking concussion and had just survived a damn bomb blast.

You sat down on the cold floor for a moment and curved your one free arm around your waist and were suddenly choked with emotion.

You survived a bomb blast …

There was a fucking bomb in your home, and suddenly you felt hot tears falling from your eyes as a guttural sob erupted from your throat.

~~~

It was almost sunrise when Bucky finally found himself making his way to the med-bay you were in. He felt like shit for not coming to see you sooner but the moment Fury had arrived he’d been pulled into a tactical meeting and practically interrogated about the incident. 

Arguments ensued, Steve yelled, Fury yelled, Sam yelled, and Bucky just sat their quietly watching them all argue. He couldn’t focus on this meeting not while you were a few floors down in a med bay alone, he had no idea how you were feeling or if anyone had spoken to you about what had happened. 

“Barnes! Are you even listening?” Fury snapped at him and Bucky lifted his head, his chin was resting on his fist, he looked at Fury with a blank expression. 

“No, no I am not,” He replied almost mutely, 

“Do you really think now is the time for shit-” Fury started but Bucky cut him off with a sigh as he rose to his feet, 

“Frankly I don’t care about what any of you have to say right now, I have seventy six stitches across my body, a splitting headache and a protection detail in the med bay, I have better things to do than argue logistics with someone who wasn’t there.” Bucky said calmly before walking out. 

Needless to say, Fury wasn’t happy and Bucky had to figure out a way to explain this whole mess. Steve advised against telling Fury about his feelings because the last thing they needed was the wrath of Nick Fury raining down on them while they were trying to figure this whole thing out.

After scouring every frame of footage from the apartment, outside and even the street the only thing they had come up with was a partial glance at the suspects face. Other than that, he was like a ghost and this worried every single one of them.

All Bucky kept thinking was maybe all those experiments Hydra had been doing had created another Winter Soldier and this thought terrified him.

What if they’d made them stronger, better, faster, smarter than him and whoever they were succeeded with their task.

Shoving those thoughts aside when he stopped at the door to the room you were in, he inhaled a deep breath before speaking to FRIDAY,

“Hey FRIDAY, can you open up med bay seven please?”

“Right away, Bucky,”

At first, he doesn’t hear anything and his heart jumped in his chest but then he heard a soft hiss and a thud before the door mechanically unlocked and he pushed it open. The moment he stepped into the room Bucky’s heart felt like it had been ripped out of his body as his eyes landed on you in the dim light.

You sat on the bed, an IV drip in your arm, the other cradled against your body in a sling. You were looking down at the phone in your hand, a frown on your face. He could see from the top you wore the multiple cuts and bruises on your body but it was when you looked up at him and he saw the bruise on your cheekbone, the split lower lip and the bloodshot in your right eyes just above it where an obvious blood vessel had burst that made him freeze where he stood.

“Bucky,” You said, your soft voice fracturing him for a moment as he took you in. This was his fault, you almost died because of him, because he was fucking distracted. “Thank God you’re okay,”

Why the hell were you worried about him, he should have been asking if you were okay. He has to practically force his legs to move towards the bed where he takes a slow seat on the chair beside the bed.

“Fuck, fuck…I’m...Jesus. Are you okay?” His voice cracked slightly, his eyes roaming over your injuries.

“You’re Jesus?” Your giggle surprised him, and he lets out a quick chuckle before concern runs through him again when he sees you wince and hold your side again.

“What’s wrong, what hurts?” He asked concernedly he reached out to touch your hand but stopped himself quickly.

“I’m fiiine,” You almost drawled out, sounding slightly lethargic, “Just a few broken ribs, nothing compared to how painful it is to look at myself in the mirror and see what a mess I am,”

Bucky looked at the IV beside the bed and then back at you, realizing you were probably on a seriously heavy dose of painkillers at that moment and high as a kite and he released a shaky breath.

“I’m so sorry,” He muttered softly,

You didn’t say anything, your pretty eyes meeting his and you give him a small smile. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Bucky,” 

“No I do, i was supposed to protect you and I-” 

“Bucky, stop, we’re both fine. You were protecting me, I mean you tossed me back pretty good never had a guy do that to me before,” 

A light laugh comes form you and you winced again, Bucky feels a small relief that you were still yourself and that you were not mad at him but the guilt inside him just grows as he looked at you. 

Bucky reached up and feather lightly brushed the bruise on your cheekbone before dropping his hand away again.

“Do you need anything?”

“I’d like to leave this stupid room,” You replied nodding, “Can I go home Bucky? Please?”

“I can’t take you home...” His voice is soft but he understands what you mean by home. You needed familiarity, something comforting in this situation.

“Please, just get me out of here,”

When he sees the tears in your eyes all Bucky wanted to do was hug you, and tell you it was okay and he’s so sorry but he knows he’s got to think with his head at that moment and not his heart.

“We can’t leave just yet, we have-”

“Bucky please…” You cut him off, grabbing his hand. There’s a pleading tone to your voice and his eyes move down to your hand that now gripped his tightly and then back up to your eyes.

“Sweetheart just listen to me, please.” He tried to say but you shook your head, vehemently. There are pain and panic in your eyes, you looked like a caged animal terrified of your surroundings and Bucky felt a surge of panic rise through him.

“No, no, Bucky, you promised you’d always be there for me. So, please, take me home!”

He closed his eyes for a moment then slowly pulled his hand out of yours and looked at you again. “I’m sorry, you have to stay here for your safety.”

His voice was harder than he intended it to be but he had to think with his head and not his heart which was screaming at him telling him to hold you, to take you home and just help you, it’s what he promised himself he would do. 

The sob that escaped your throat broke his heart and Bucky reached for you but you shied away from his touch.

“Just get out,” You snarled,

Your anger startled him and he sighed deeply. He deserved this, but it didn’t mean he hated it any less. So slowly rising to his feet Bucky walked towards the exit, he gives you one last lingering look before he shuts the door behind him. Exhaling a deep breath the moment the door closes, Bucky sagged against the door and gripped the handle so tightly he was worried he might snap it and then he heard it.

Your sobs coming from the other side of the door and suddenly his chest felt tight like he couldn’t breathe and before he knew it he was running, he had to get out, away for just a second.

He needed to breathe.

~~~

Bucky stood on a terrace of the tower almost fifty floors up, he breathed in the cool evening air relishing the way it felt on his bare skin. His mind is buzzing, he can’t keep his thoughts quiet. He tries to steady his rapidly beating heart, he feels panic rise inside him.  The sound of your sobs echoing in his mind again and again, and he releases a shuddering breath.

He feels himself slipping down that slope, the one that teeters on the edge of a dangerous cliff. Where his memory dam held back all those thoughts that haunted his existence and he felt it break. This isn’t how it was supposed to go, this wasn;t him, he shouldn’t feel this helpless. Bucky had spent so long fighting for control and he had it now, he had all of it. 

So why did he feel so helpless, why the fuck couldn’t he control his emotions when it came to you. He wanted to desperately to feel like this was okay, but he was failing nonetheless. It was frightening, and turned his mind to panic.

His chest constricted, Bucky placed his hand over his heart and took a slow, deep breath. Why the hell did he have to fall for you, why the fuck did Steve have to be right and why the fuck was his chest hurting so much every time he replayed the memory of you and him in that hallway.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He cursed loudly whirling around and slamming his fist into the concrete wall behind him. The concrete cracked and cracks spider up the wall, Bucky hit it again deepening the crack before he dropped his metal fist to his side and ripped open the door stalking back into the darkness of the hallway.

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky barnes series #bodyguard!au #Bodyguard!Bucky #Bodyguard fic #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #Bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au

[taetaespeaches]

“I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that, but what you’re doing isn’t fair”

Seokjin x Reader (or oc)

Word count: 1,805

I found this prompt a while ago and thought it would be a fun concept for our Seokjinnie. 

 You swatted your best friend’s eager hand from the takeout bag you had just set on the counter. “It’s not for you.” Jin looked at you in shock, eyes big. “It’s for Guk.”

“Ah, I can’t believe you right now,” Jin said shaking his head. You had just arrived at the boys’ dorm, bringing food for Jeongguk from his favorite restaurant.

“How could you do this to me? I’m supposed to be your best friend, yet you bring JK food and nothing for me?” He put his hand on his hip as he shot you a glare, pursing his pillow lips. Those lips. You can’t count the number of times you have wanted halt his rants and sassy remarks by engulfing those lips with yours.

“Oh shush, I get you food all the time,” you told him, mimicking his pose as you placed your hand on your hip. “Also, what kind of greeting is this? A hello would be nice. Maybe an ‘I missed you’.”

“Hello, Love, I missed you,” he said sincerely.

“I missed you too,” you cocked your head adoringly before switching gears. “Now what is this I hear that you refused to cook for Kookie? What makes you think you deserve food when you’re starving your poor maknae?”

Jin rolled his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re starving me because I wouldn’t cook for him?”

You stepped closer to him, leaning against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why won’t you feed the poor boy?” His eyes met yours, only to find a devious glint in them. His lips curved into a smirk.

You and Jin had a very playful relationship. You spent countless hours bickering with each other, but it was always lighthearted and fun. Everything about your relationship was lively yet comfortable.

There was also a lot of attraction between the both of you that neither of you were brave enough to act on. Everyone, including you two, knew you weren’t “just friends”, despite you both hiding behind that label for the past year. However, you two had been inseparable over the last two weeks, finding it more and more difficult to keep up the “just friends” act.

You both wanted each other, and you were waiting to see which one of you would finally step up and make the move that would change the dynamic of your relationship forever.  

Jin’s eyes fell from yours, drifting down your body, observing your stature. As he took in your appearance, his eyes suddenly widened, realizing you were wearing his shirt. It wasn’t uncommon for you to wear his clothing, but it still affected him every time you did.

“That’s my shirt,” he deadpanned.

“It is,” you responded with a grin.

He shook his head slowly while smirking. He stepped towards you, leaving just a small gap between you as he reached out to grip the shirt between his fingers. “You’ll be the death of me, y/n.” Your eyes found his lips.

“I really did miss you,” he said as he tugged on the material of the shirt, pulling you towards him.

Just as your body started to fall into him, a loud yell sounded from behind Jin, causing him to yelp and fling his arms up dramatically before curling into himself out of fear.

Suddenly, you were groaning in pain, crouching over, as your hands shot up to cradle your nose. You heard a brief giggle from the source of the yell, followed by an, “Oh, shit”.  Jeongguk’s face was ridden with instant guilt, as his plan to scare Jin totally derailed.  

Jin’s eyes grew three sizes larger as panic set in. Panic over the fact that he just hit you. He hurt you, his favorite person.

He quickly made his way to you, placing his left hand to the small of your back as he bent over to peer at your face. You looked toward him, allowing him to see the blood running over your hands.

The panic and guilt led to him to ramble.

“Shit, y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you, I would never hurt you on purpose, are you ok? Fuck, of course you’re not ok, you’re bleeding, we should go to the hospital, right? Let me take you to the hospital, right, we should go to the hospital?” He looked from you to Jeongguk, waiting for someone to say something.

“Of course she needs to go to the hospital!” Jeongguk yelled as he looked at you before wincing.

. . . . . . .

Jeongguk was sat in a chair next to you, staring at your swollen nose as he shook his head. Jin was stood in the corner, his gaze never leaving you. You were sat on the medical table, looking around the room, glancing at Jin occasionally. The air was thick with guilt and tension as you waited for the doctor to come back to finish treating you.

“I’m really sorry, y/n,” Jeongguk broke the silence, causing your eyes to meet his. You looked at him softly.

“Kookie, why are you sorry? You have no reason to apologize,” You said sincerely.

He looked down at his feet as he tapped his fingers lightly against his knee.

“Of course he should be sorry,” Jin mumbled under his breath as he observed your interaction with the younger man. You shot him a glare.

“I’m the one that scared Jin-hyung,” Jeongguk said quietly, guilt lacing his tone, bringing your attention back to him. “This is all my fault.” You leaned forward, placing your hand on top of his, halting his nervous tapping.

“It was an accident, Guk. Stop worrying. Besides, it was Jin that smacked me in the face, not you,” you said with a small smile and a light chuckle. “It’s not your fault he overreacts,” you tease. Jeongguk looked up to see your smirk and let out a giggle. You both peered over to where Jin stood, who was now glaring at the both of you.

Sensing the frustration coming from the older man, Jeongguk looked back to you and smiled before excusing himself to grab a drink from the vending machine in lobby. He looked at Jin and motioned his head towards you, silently telling Jin to talk to you.

As soon and Jeongguk made his exit, Jin approached you with a mix of guilt, sadness, and anger in his eyes. He huffed as he sat in the chair Jeongguk was previously sitting in. You looked at him for a moment before looking down at your hands as you picked at your nails. Jin sighed.

“I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that, but what you’re doing isn’t fair,” he said to you slightly louder than you had expected.

You snapped your head to look directly at him, examining his face. His statement sounded so ridiculous it would have made you laugh if it weren’t for the mix of emotions written across his beautiful features. Is he mad? You couldn’t quite decipher what he was feeling.

“What isn’t fair?” You asked quietly, causing him to sigh and reach his hand out to lightly grip your thigh just above your knee. Your stomach leaped at his touch.

“Are you mad at me?” Your breathing hitched at the worry evident in his eyes. “You have every right to be, but I feel awful, and it sucks to see you comfort Jeongguk while you leave me out in the cold. I am so sorry that I hurt you, I mean, fuck, I never want to hurt you, and if you’re mad then I accept that, but will you please just talk to me at least before I lose my damn mind trying to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours?” He rambles all in one breath.

“I’m not mad at you,” you quickly respond. He looks at you with big eyes, full of surprise. “It was an accident, Jin, how could I possibly be mad at you?” His eyes softened as he felt a little bit of relief. “I just like messing with you,” you smirk. His lips curved into a smile as well.

You both sat in silence, staring into each other’s eyes before yours fell to his lips briefly.

“Were you going to kiss me earlier? In the kitchen?”

“Hm?” A lump lodged itself in his throat as he looked at you, stunned by your sudden forwardness. He quickly recovered, feigning offense that you would even suggest such a thing. “No. Never. Of course not.”

“Oh really? I could have sworn you were. You know, before you broke my nose,” you playfully jab with a smirk.

“Oh come on…” He shook his head as he stood up, placing himself in front of you and reached to grab your thighs just above your knees.  Your breath quickened as he lightly pulled your legs apart and nudge his body between them. “How long are you going to hold this over my head, love?”

Jin leaned towards you as your eyes fell to his lips, again. He noticed the movement in your eyes and smirked a little.

“Not sure. How long does it take for a broken nose to heal?” He let out a breathy laugh, that slightly resembled windshield wipers.

“Hey Jin?”

“Hm?” he hums in response.

“Will you just kiss me already?” His eyes dropped to your lips.

“Love,” your eyes meet again. “Your nose is broken.”

“But you did this to me,” you pouted, teasing him. “Shouldn’t you try to make up for it?”

“Ah, you’re so unfair.” Jin laughed again as you set your hand on his abdomen and gripped his shirt, pulling him towards you. As his body fell further into you, he gently placed his hands on your jawline. Your hands reached up to secure around his wrists.

As he gently lowered his head to yours, he glanced from your eyes to your lips a few times before stopping to look at your nose. You looked into his eyes, waiting, biting your lower lip.

He hesitated before tilting your head to the left as he overexaggerated the lean of his head to the right to avoid bumping your noses together. Slowly, you both leaned in, pressing your lips together as your eyes closed. The feeling of his plump lips massaging over your own was so much better than you ever imagined.

He pulled away slightly and looked at you as your slightly blackened eyes fluttered open.

“I can’t believe I waited so long to do that,” he whispered, lips still hovering over yours.

“Wow,” you blushed.

Jin let out a small giggle. “You’re so cute.”  

“Even with a broken nose?”

Laughing lightly, he leaned back into you. “Even with a broken nose,” he whispered against your mouth before pressing his lips to yours again.

#seokjin imagine #jin imagine #seokjin #jin #bts imagines #bts #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #bts scenario #jin fluff

[bonny-kookoo]

Fictional Happiness: 12

Jungkook had found his mate on accident- and unknowingly, also the one piece that had still been missing from his pack.

Tags/warnings: werewolf! AU if it wasn't obvious already lol, angst, romantic kook, kinda selfish kook though, shy!reader, anxiety, medication mention, therapy mention, mentions of past child neglect and emotional abuse, panic attacks, idol!bts, insecurities, bad habits, kind of tsundere! Jk, Impatient kook, alpha!kook, omega!Reader, omega!jimin, Alpha!Jin, Alpha!Namjoon, Alpha!Taehyung, Alpha!Yoongi, Beta!Hoseok, swearing, reader doesn't like him a lot at first just as a heads up, realistic approach- meaning she won't just fall head first right away like nuh-uh we're wearing seatbelts on this ride yall, smut in future chapters

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You've taken some time for yourself to cool down, and to let the pack discuss what to do next.

After having been deemed stable enough by Jimin, he'd packed a small bag with several blankets he'd used to nest with you to take home with you, playfully calling it your homework, to learn how to nest yourself. He still can't quite belief that anyone would simply let their child, let alone an omega pup sleep alone without any form of comfort.

Jungkook had felt a bit hesitant in letting you go, but had caved in, knowing deep down that it was probably for the best. He had been scared you might end up ghosting him after, but he'd received a message just a few hours later informing him that you've felt incredibly awkward, and that you didn't want to intrude his pack at all.

He'd instantly reassured you, and himself in the process as well.

Now, everyone was eating, while having spent the day lounging around. It's weird to have time off like this, but they're all deeply thankful for the small breather they're granted. It couldn't have been timed better, after all.

"She's really sweet." Taehyung comments at the dinner table, while everyone else is eating. He takes a bite himself, as hoseok questions in interest.

"So she's a pack wolf?" He wonders, and jimin nods.

"I've kind of had a hunch she might be when Jin was allowed close. Usually, we omegas have a huge issue with someone other than our own alpha being that close especially when in such a headspace." He explains. "And then Taehyung scented her, and it just, clicked I guess."

Jungkook huffs out a breath as he leans against the back of his chair. He seems disappointed in something, and Yoongi seems to pick up on it.

"She's still your mate, kook." He says. "Just because she's a pack wolf doesn't mean we're just gonna take her like that." He tries to reason, but the maknae isn't looking any happier.

"She was so calm with Jin-hyung." He mumbles. "And Jimin was able to get through to her so easily." He continues. "And then Taehyung..-"

"Becahse you were close." The older alpha counters. "Jungkook, she still likes you-"

"Well she won't once she joins the pack, will she?!" He barks out, finally snapping after having stayed silent for the two days after what had happened at his apartment. "I'm the last one to connect with my wolf, I don't know shit about how to be a good alpha, I constantly fuck things up, and you're-"

"First of all, stop yelling." Namjoon says. "Second of all, we don't even know if she wants to join the pack, hell, hoseok, yoongi, and me haven't even properly met her yet. For all we know we could be absolutely incompatible with her." He says.

Jungkook doesn't seem convinced, but stays silent the rest of the dinner, before he goes to bed alone, not wanting to participate in any pack activities.

When Yoongi walks into his room, jungkook starts to speak softly, as if scared of being loud while the mattress dips where the older alpha sits down. "I want her to join the pack, you know?" He mumbles. "But if she doesn't, then I'll loose her again, or loose her to someone else, and I really really like her hyung." He says. "I just want things to work out.." he worries.

"I know." Yoongi says. He knows the maknae, knows that he's a bit spoiled by his pack, and its just as much everyone's fault as it's his own. They've sheltered him for a long time, not thinking about the possibility that one day he'd have to figure things out himself. It's probably the main reason he still hasn't connected with his inner wolf- why would he, if everyone around him solved his problems for him? "Tomorrow we'll meet her, and go from there." He reassures. "I'm sure even if she's only half of what you've all told me, I'll still like her." He chuckles, patting the youngest on his back playfully roughly, making him complain childishly.

"We'll figure it out." Yoongi says, before walking out of the room, letting the maknae sleep.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bts reactions #ot7 imagine #seokjin x reader #hoseok imagine #bts suga x reader #min yoongi imagine #bts taehyung #taehyung imagine #jimin x reader #jimin imagine #FH!Jungkook #fictional happiness