#I would just like some random unhinged questions about my muse or their life or the things they like etc etc either directed at them or me

[thatbitchkayla30]

I need people to send me either unhinged messages to my muses asking questions or just to me asking questions about my muses because sometimes you just need unhinged asks in your ask box and there doesn't need to be a reason for it.

[onlyswan]

gold rush | jjk

→ pairing: jungkook x f!reader

→ genre: fluff

→ warnings: mention of sex

→ word count: 2.6k

↳ gold rush | love rush | sugar rush | adrenaline rush | zest rush

summary: what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? with your falling into place like dominos.

note: i think i was just smiling a lot while writing tbh. no i didn’t cry bc i want this to happen to me definitely not !!!! thank you for the love so far i’m :] i jus get the most random bursts of inspiration to write and jungkook is my muse so. talk to me in the asks if you wanna :D

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you are sat on the last train, reading a book you’ve read six times and listening to cigarettes after sex with your headphones on. how unhinged must you be to find comfort in norwegian wood by haruki murakami to read it for the second time this month? well, that’s a conversation for another time.

you bathe in the tranquility that enveloped you. it’s nice to live in moments like this. it’s so nice you can cry. ever since you were a child, your family has instilled in you that you must dream big. and that you did. there is no other choice but to do so. of course, just like many other people, you dream of a high paying job. you want to move to a big city overseas (mostly to run away from every single person in this country who unfortunately knows that you exist). you want a big space you can decorate according to your taste and style. you want a car you can drive around whenever you just feel like it. they sound simple, but not as simple to achieve. not when you came from where you were from. it’s exhausting to think about the future. hell, it makes you fucking sick to your stomach. the number of times you’ve been asked the question ‘where do you see yourself five or ten years from now?’ and the first image that came into mind was you dying of hypothermia under a bridge. you shiver at the thought.

and so, in your free time, you genuinely enjoy doing stupidly domestic things. you find fascination in the most trivial things. you yearn to discover the little wonders of life. you ride the last train and read your depressing little book and listen to your hopeless songs. you put aside your responsibility to live fiercely for a little while. during these times, you find yourself thinking about how small you truly are. there are seven billion people in the world. there are about a hundred billion planets in the milky way. for the love of god, 1.3 million earths can fit in the sun. and then you arrive to the conclusion that your problems in life are really fucking stupid. your worries get alleviated for a short while. i mean, if you just forget that there are, once again, seven billion people in this godforsaken planet you are stuck in and that human beings can be such monsters.

you don’t even realize you’ve been spacing out until the train doors open and a man takes a seat right in front of you. jesus christ. a beautiful, gorgeous, stunning? man. he has you captivated right away. you’re quite sure you have never seen a person this damn attractive. he is in all black oversized outfit, his black chunky boots also catching your attention. what are the lengths i would go to just to steal those shoes?

he is in a small bun but some strands of hair still dangle over his wide doe eyes, his pink lips slightly open as he is eating ice cream held by his tattooed hand, a letter on each knuckles, a few other symbols, and a heart; the sleeve of his hoodie slightly sliding down giving you a peak of more ink adorning his arm, and the other casually scrolling through his phone.

he seems to be highly engrossed in whatever conversation he is having. his eyebrows slightly furrow, lips tightly pursing occasionally showing his dimple. despite having read countless of books, right at this moment, you can’t think of any word that would do him justice. dear god, you took your time on him, didn’t you? what a lucky, gifted man.

then it registers that you’ve been unabashedly checking him out ever since he stepped in the train. you quickly bring back your attention to your book, eyes scanning over the familiar words but barely registering anything that’s happening. wait, naoko wrote toru a letter, right? why the fuck does he have a bottled firefly right now? you don’t know how to act around attractive people and it shows. for the next few minutes, you casually look up to him every now and then. he already reached the tip of the cone. at some point he takes out an ipad from his, you guessed it, black backpack, and started drawing using a digital pen. it appears he likes using colors a lot in his art, which you find endearing. a gifted man, indeed. he gets off the train on the next stop.

 ~*~

two nights later, here you two are again. facing each other as you read a murakami book. something you haven’t read yet this time. yes, you are still listening to cigarettes after sex. sue me!

he’s wearing a white shirt tucked in his ripped denim jeans, revealing his small waist, and black button up long sleeves rolled up until below his elbow. the phrases ‘rather be dead than cool’ and ‘make hay while the sun shines’ tattooed on his skin, crossed across each other, connected by the letter ‘t’. below them is a skeleton rock hand sign. other ones you can figure out are the g clef, an eye with red pupil, and a tiger flower (?). you are pretty sure your eyes are practically gleaming with admiration as you look at them, having been wanting to get some yourself but never having the courage to go through the process all alone. you desperately want them in places that usually hurt the most and well . . .

he’s drawing again, legs crossed with his slightly tilted up ipad resting on his bare knee. you don’t miss the lollipop poking out of his cheek, the white stick between his pretty pink lips. it looks like he gets lost in his own little world when working on something, uncaring of everything else. he tucks his hair behind his ear, and you finally notice his multiple piercings. holy fucking shit. i can cry right now. dear god, what exactly did you pour in this man to be this awesome? do i want to be him or kiss him? you shake your head in attempt to shoo away your thoughts. this is embarrassing, even for you. you go back to reading your silly little book, unaware of the dark brown eyes now looking at you. his eyes crinkle with a bunny smile, before returning to his own work.

 ~*~

you’ve been on the last train four nights in a row, pathetically waiting for the boy that’s been plaguing your mind for the past week. he never showed up. you grew sadder each train ride. is that it? am i never gonna see him again? maybe i should’ve talked to him. but then again, i don’t trust myself to function as a normal person in front of someone clearly sculpted and handcrafted by the greek gods themselves. another public transportation crush you will never cross paths with again. you sigh exasperatedly, flicking through the pages of the book you haven’t finished reading yet. i can’t believe this! waiting hopelessly. five nights. for a man. what have you become? you’re better than this . . . right?

wrong.

the train doors open to reveal the person you’ve been looking forward to seeing again. he takes the usual spot in front of you, a half-eaten bar of snickers held by his tattooed hand. he looks dashing, as usual. it pisses you off how you’re not pissed off anymore. he clearly maintains a dark persona, but he exudes a comforting energy. maybe that’s just you. he’s on his phone again, smiling to himself as he types. he has such a pretty and adorable smile. okay, i would really like to kiss him. you bite your lip to stop smiling yourself.

and then it happens. he suddenly looks up from his phone and makes eye contact with you. your eyes widen in surprise. you swiftly look down on your book after you decided it’s best to just act oblivious, but the universe isn’t exactly on your side. your headphones make impact with the floor, the sound startling you. the few passengers even turn their heads towards you. oh my fucking god, why? why me? can the ground please just swallow me whole and k!ll me? you close your eyes shut. maybe if i close my eyes, it will turn out that this is just a stupid dream.

but his adorable laugh makes you open them again. your dumb ass just has to see how pretty he looks when he laughs. if only you were in a whole different situation, one that doesn’t involve embarrassment that makes you want to end it all, you would laugh along with him. but you only muster a shy smile as you scratch at the back of your head. you look down at your headphones awkwardly, reaching down to pick them up but he beat you to it. with a sly grin, he wears them and sits next to you. you can practically hear your heartbeat. fuck, it might just jump out of your chest. he smells really good. not too overwhelming, like the ones that make your nose itch. it’s sweet and intoxicating. vanilla? it definitely suits him. it makes you swoon.

“wow, i love this song.” he says enthusiastically, a smile still on his lips. it’s your first time hearing his voice. it’s like dripping with honey. he sounds warm and bright. sounds like someone you wouldn’t mind listening to for the rest of your life. “apocalypse by cigarettes after sex, if i’m not mistaken. am i?” he asks, taking off your headphones.

you shake your head with a light laugh. “you’re right,”

“do you listen to them a lot?”

“well, yeah.” you answer sheepishly. “i think they’re perfect to listen to when i’m reading. their music is calming and intimate.”

your breath hitches when he brings the headphones around your neck. “i agree. takes you on a whole another dimension. it’s awesome,” the nerve of this man to talk so damn casually as if he’s not making butterflies erupt in your stomach. seeing his face up close makes you realize he’s even more beautiful than you initially thought. and you thought he was handcrafted by the greek gods. . . maybe he is a greek god?!

“i’m jungkook, by the way. jeon jungkook,”

 okay, perhaps not. i read way too much.

 ~*~

you look up and take in the afterglow of your boyfriend, still in daze from the incredible sex you had. the moonlight makes his eyes sparkle, and you thank yourself for your obsession with having to see the night sky every night that you had to make sure your window has a view of it. you are laying on his chest, ear over his pounding heart. it still makes you feel giddy, knowing you have the same effect on him as he has on you. it’s been almost a year since he sat in front of you at the train, eight months since you started to officially date. to this day, he still teases you about being whipped for him from that very first night. of course, you both know he’s right. you were pretty straightforward about your feelings, never kept it a secret. but that doesn’t mean you will surrender to his relentless attempts of making you confess how you shamelessly drank him in.

jungkook makes you happy, that’s for sure, though. that, you have no problem letting him know. he’s the best thing to ever happen to you, in a very long time. he loves drawing you and claims you as his muse. he loves washing your hair. he is constantly trying out new dishes to satisfy your picky but demanding taste buds. he picks up the books you leave scattered all over his place and yours because one time you tripped over one of them and he thought you died. he broke down three months ago and built you a shelf. he sits through your horror film choices that he always end up liking. he sings you to sleep.

but also, he’s one of the most stubborn person you’ve ever met. he teases you a lot. he used to tickle you, until you accidentally kicked his nuts trying to get away. he hogs most of the space of the bed. his alarm makes you want to lose your sense of hearing. he, in his all black outfits, never shuts up about the heat in the summer. he takes longer to do his hair. he spends a lot of time at the gym and he’s gotten even bigger. it’s infuriating. it’s infuriating how easily you give into him.

moving on. . . before, you settled with making yourself feel small in order to give yourself a reason to escape. claiming that nothing matters, when the truth is, it all meant so much to you they were destroying you. but jungkook. oh, jungkook. he makes you feel like you are his world. with him by your side, you are invincible. it doesn’t mean the world can no longer hurt you, but you’re not scared to get hurt anymore. except at times, it gets terrifying. the intensity of emotions he makes you feel is terrifying. you trust him, though. after all, he made you embrace all aspects of life, the good and the bad. he made you embrace yourself, the pretty and the ugly. maybe being human isn’t all that bad.

 ~*~

jungkook looks down at the woman that had him utterly enamored since the moment he laid his eyes on her. a fact he’s been covering by turning the tables on you. you were just so cute and pretty, reading books one of his best friends also loves, with your headphones blasting his favorite songs. and right now, you look absolutely divine. hair blown out on your naked back, lips swollen from all the biting and kissing, eyes glassy and drooping from tiredness and bliss. he wants to capture this image of your skin shining from the moonlight, so he can draw every single detail later on. but you’re way too comfortable on top of him, he feels bad about disturbing you. he smiles softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb, the other at your hair. you just don’t know how strikingly gorgeous you are. the more he learned about you, the deeper you reeled him in. he is whipped. you make him smile. all the time. his cheeks always hurt and at some point, he started to worry about wrinkles.

“jungkook?”

“hmmm?” he hums, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“you are so-“

he cuts you off. “pretty?”

“can you stop finishing my sentences for me?” you whine, hitting his toned chest. if anything, you probably only hurt your palm.

“but, baby, that’s what true couples do!”

 “are you calling our relationship fake, jeon jungkook?”

his wince makes your victory known. “of course not, baby. we’re the realest as real gets.” that don’t even make sense in your head, so you just mutter an ‘okay’ since you’re too beat to argue with your pretty, stupid boyfriend. oh, i am beat, alright.

“are you sleepy?” he asks a moment later.

 “very,” you yawn, another thing he finds so cute. “after what you did to me? very sleepy,”

he laughs loudly at your remark, making you giggle, too. “you liked all the things i did though,”

“yeah, i loved them a lot.”

he wraps his arm around your waist with his hand still holding your face. he traces your eyebrows, down to the bridge of your nose, and then your lips. your lips, sweeter than anything he has ever tasted, and he is addicted. his gentle touches send shivers down your spine. you close your eyes to savor the solace you find in his acts of affection.

“your lips, my lips,” he sings softly, bringing himself closer to you. his teeth tugs at your bottom lip before swiping his tongue over it, then finally kissing you properly. he let his lips linger, and quite frankly, he doesn’t ever want to pull away. “apocalypse,”