#My brain is malfunctioning over it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cowboyshadows · 21 days ago

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Calling them pretty boy

Calling Soap a pretty boy? Oh, you’ve just unlocked something dangerous. Immediately poses like he’s in a cologne ad—shoulders squared, jaw clenched, like he’s about to star in a slow-motion commercial for expensive whiskey. “Aye, lass, ye finally noticed, huh?” Winks, but it’s really just him blinking with both eyes. “Didn’t wanna brag, but—” He was absolutely going to brag. Now he’s flexing, running a hand through his hair like a movie star. You can’t take it back. This is your life now. He needs at least five “pretty boy”s a day. Minimum. If he doesn’t get them, he pouts. He starts inventing situations just so you have to say it again. “Damn, Soap, look at you—pretty boy of the year.” If you ever deny it, he gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Oh, so I’m ugly now?” You are trapped.

Gaz squints at you, biting his lip to keep from smiling, but he’s already lost. “You tryna start something?” If you say yes, he just slowly turns to the nearest reflective surface. A window, a car mirror—hell, a spoon will do. He’s inspecting himself now, nodding approvingly. “Y’know what? You got taste.” Shrugs, smirks, then side-eyes you. “You into pretty boys, then?” The way he says it is dangerous. Like he’s filing that information away for later use. Congratulations. You just gave him new ammo to flirt with you at any given moment. And if you ever try to call someone else a pretty boy? He’s shaking his head, hands on his hips. “Nah, nah—that’s the one you pick? When I’m right here?”

Ghost freezes. Like, actual blue screen error level freeze. The only movement is the slow inhale through his mask, and maybe—just maybe—a single, imperceptible tremor in his fingers. He doesn’t even know how to process it. Nobody has ever called him that before. The word rattles around in his brain like an unsolved math equation. Pretty boy. Pretty boy. He’s malfunctioning. If you look closely, you might see the faintest, faintest head tilt—like a confused puppy. Then he just... walks away. No explanation. Just leaves. But if you call him that again? Oh, he’s on his knees, proper. Puppy style. He won’t admit it, but you own him now. Say it once more and he might just start following you.

Price stops. Slowly turns to you, eyes narrowed like a disappointed father. “Come again?” He didn’t grow this beard—these mutton chops—for you to call him a twink. He rubs a hand over his chin, debating if he should be flattered or offended. Decides on offended. “Y’know, I’ve been called a lotta things in my day, but that—” He lunges. You scream because this man is coming at you like a dad who just heard his kid swear for the first time. Tickle attack initiated. “C’mon now, say it proper,” he taunts, relentless, as you struggle. “Call me handsome, love.” This is a war you will not win. Surrender now, or suffer the consequences.

#ridings #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #john price #simon ghost x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #john price x reader #captain john price

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luv-lock · 2 months ago

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ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤGOLDEN BOYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Robin Dick Grayson x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : When he have a puppy crush (obsession).

☆⁠ NOTES : Teenagers in love. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

It starts off innocently enough—just a little crush. You sit near him in class, maybe one row over, and you’re one of the only people who genuinely sees him, not as Bruce Wayne’s ward, not as the golden boy acrobat, but just Dick. The first time you smile at him? Oh, he’s done for. It’s over. That bright, genuine expression you give him after he cracks a dumb joke sends his heart into overdrive. He’s replaying it in his head for weeks. He starts noticing everything about you. The way you twirl your pen when you’re thinking, the soft hum you let out when you're focused, how your eyes light up when you talk about something you love. He starts making excuses to talk to you. “Hey, do you have the notes from last class?” even though he has a perfect memory. “Do you get the homework? I think I missed something.” He just wants to hear your voice, to make you focus on him.

At first, it’s all sweet, dorky teenage boy vibes. But then it starts getting a little intense. He watches you when you’re not looking—not in a creepy way (okay, maybe a little), but in a memorizing everything about you way. He just wants to understand you. What makes you laugh? What makes you frown? Who do you talk to the most? If you mention liking a certain song, you bet he’s listening to it on repeat that night. If you mention a favorite book, he’s reading it in one night just so he can bring it up casually. He adores hearing you say his name. He swears it sounds different coming from your lips. Whenever you do, he fights the urge to grin like an idiot. He gets jealous so easily, but he doesn’t show it in an obvious way. It’s more of a subtle coldness toward any guy you talk to for too long. If someone flirts with you, he’s immediately analyzing everything about them, thinking, What does she see in him?

He’s Robin before anything else, and that means he’s naturally protective. Gotham’s dangerous, and even if you don’t know his secret, he makes it his job to keep you safe. If you're walking home late? He just so happens to be taking the same route. Coincidence? He’d never admit it. He pays attention to how people treat you. If anyone ever makes you uncomfortable, he remembers. Not that he’d ever do anything drastic (yet), but they might find themselves getting mysteriously unlucky.

He doesn’t mean to know so much about you—it just happens. It’s not weird that he remembers your schedule, right? Or that he noticed when you switched shampoos? Or that he can tell when something’s bothering you before you even say anything? He doesn’t mean to follow you home sometimes. He just… wants to make sure you’re okay. Gotham’s dangerous, and you don’t have training like he does. And he definitely doesn’t mean to get distracted on patrol whenever he sees someone who looks like you. But for a split second, he forgets Gotham’s crime rate and thinks, Is she out this late? He’s self-aware enough to know this isn’t just a normal crush. But it’s harmless, right? He’s just watching out for you. If you ever casually compliment him—“You’re really smart, Dick” or “I like being around you”—he malfunctions. Completely. And if you ever initiate contact? Oh, he’s done. Completely, utterly, hopelessly yours.

Dick is a puppy when it comes to you. The second you walk into the classroom, he perks up. If he’s sitting, he straightens his posture. If he’s standing, he suddenly finds something super interesting about the wall just to avoid looking too eager. He lives for those little moments of eye contact. If you catch him staring, he plays it off like he was lost in thought—but inside? His brain is melting. He starts doodling your name in the margins of his notebooks without even realizing it. One day, he catches himself writing “Mr. and Mrs. Grayson” in the corner of his notes and nearly dies on the spot. If you ever say something nice about his eyes? Oh, you’ve ruined him. He will think about that compliment for weeks. Every time he looks in the mirror, he wonders, Does she like them this way? Does she think they’re pretty?

Whenever the teacher asks a question, he needs to be the one who answers it. Not because he’s a know-it-all, but because he wants you to see how smart he is. If you're struggling with something—anything—he’s immediately offering to help. Bad at math? Boom, he's suddenly your personal tutor (even though he secretly hates math). Need a partner for a project? He's already pulling his desk closer before you can even ask. He randomly picks up new skills just because you mentioned liking them. If you say you love guitar players? Guess who suddenly owns a guitar and is watching hours of tutorials? Gym class becomes his personal Olympics. If you're watching, he's running faster, jumping higher, and doing flips that are completely unnecessary just to get your attention.

If you so much as sigh in class, he notices. “You okay?” His voice is so soft, full of genuine concern, and he will not rest until you tell him what’s wrong. He remembers everything you say. Mentioned craving a certain snack? He’s “randomly” bringing it to school the next day. Said you liked a certain brand of lip balm? He notices every time you put it on. If you’re ever sad, he’s ready to drop everything. The moment you look upset, he leans in, voice low and sweet, “Hey… talk to me.” He’ll listen so intently, nodding at all the right moments, just aching to fix whatever’s wrong. He’s a natural gentleman around you. Holding doors open, pulling out chairs, letting you borrow his jacket when it's cold (even if he’s freezing). It’s second nature to him—he just wants to take care of you.

If you miss a day of school? He’s restless. Checking his phone way too much, tapping his pencil, wondering where you are, if you’re okay, if you miss him too. The day you come back? He’s practically glowing. “Hey! You’re back!” His voice is a little too excited, but he can’t help it. He loves when you talk to him first. The moment you say, “Hey, Dick!” in the hallway, he lights up like a Christmas tree. If you touch his arm while laughing? Oh. He’s not getting over that for at least a month. If you’re ever even slightly affectionate with him—resting your head on his shoulder, holding onto his wrist absentmindedly—he’s gone. He replays that moment forever, sighing like a lovesick fool in his room at night.

He has so many little fantasies about you. Not weird ones—just soft, innocent daydreams. Holding hands. Walking you home. Kissing you under the stars like in the movies. He imagines what it would be like if you were his. If he could just tell you how much you mean to him, if he could wrap his arms around you whenever he wanted, if he could finally call you his. But for now, he’s content just being close to you, memorizing every little thing about you, waiting for the moment when you’ll finally see him the way he sees you. Because to him? You’re already his—you just don’t know it yet.

Dick has been thinking about this for weeks. No—months. He’s built up so many little fantasies about it in his head. He imagines it happening naturally, like in the movies—maybe you’ll both laugh at something at the same time, your eyes will meet, and you’ll just know. But no. That’s not realistic. He needs a plan. So, naturally, he overthinks everything. Should he ask casually? Should he write a note? Should he just confess dramatically in the rain? (That one’s his favorite idea, but Gotham’s weather isn’t cooperating.)

He starts dropping little comments like, “Hey, you ever been to that cute café downtown?” or “Do you like Italian food?” If you mention liking a certain place, guess who suddenly loves that place too? “Oh, you like that diner? No way! I love that diner. We should totally go sometime…” He tests the waters constantly. “Would you ever go out with someone from our class?” (Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes—)

He practices in the mirror. A lot. He even tries different tones—cool and casual (“Hey, wanna grab a bite with me?”), nervous but sweet (“I was, um, wondering if you’d maybe wanna go out?”), and even overly confident (“Obviously, you should go on a date with me.”). But the moment he actually sees you? Oh. His brain malfunctions. “Hey—uh—so—okay—hypothetically, if a guy—like me—were to, um, ask you to hang out—but like, not as friends, more like a date—what would you, uh… think?” The second he says it, he wants to die. That was NOT what he practiced. That was awful. But you laugh. Not at him—just at how adorably flustered he is. And oh, if your laugh wasn’t already his favorite sound, it definitely is now.

If you say yes? Oh. He short-circuits. He’s trying to stay cool, but inside? Explosions. Fireworks. The Bat-Signal shining just for him. “Really? I mean—yeah! Cool! Totally cool. Um, how’s Friday? Or Saturday? Or any day? I’m free. Like, always. For you.”

Once you say yes, he goes into full-on mission mode. He has to make this perfect. This isn’t just a date—it’s your first date together, meaning it has to be something you’ll remember forever. He spends an embarrassing amount of time deciding what to wear. He changes outfits at least five times before realizing, “Oh God, I’m worse than Bruce.” He arrives early. He tells himself not to, but he literally cannot be late. In fact, he’s been there so long that by the time you show up, he’s already memorized the entire menu.

When He Sees You… Oh. He’s gone. The moment he lays eyes on you, it’s like the world just stops. “Wow.” He says it without thinking, and then immediately tries to cover it up with a cough. “I mean—not that you don’t always look great! Because you do. All the time. But tonight? Wow.” (He is so embarrassing. And he does not care.)

He’s lowkey flexing. Not in an arrogant way, but in a please find me impressive way. He talks about his training (“I mean, gymnastics is kinda my thing…”), but downplays it like it’s not incredibly cool.

When you least expect it, he gets weirdly soft. He looks at you when you’re not paying attention, like he’s memorizing you. Like he can’t believe you’re real.

When he walks you home, he wants to hold your hand. He wants to kiss you, but he’s too nervous (what if it’s too soon? What if she doesn’t want that?) “I had fun tonight,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. He really wants to ask if he can kiss you. But instead, he blurts out— “So, um. Can I… take you out again?” (His voice is so hopeful—he looks like a puppy waiting for a treat.) Yes? Oh! Congratulations, you have just made his entire year. He’s smiling so hard all the way home, practically skipping. The second he gets home, he flops onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, sighing like a total fool. She said yes. She had fun. She’s gonna be mine. I just know it.

Oh. You have no idea what you’ve just signed up for. Dick is the most devoted boyfriend on the planet. He’s not just in love—he’s obsessed (in the cutest, puppy-eyed way possible). He still can’t believe you’re actually his. Every time he sees you at school, his heart flutters. He gets this dumb, lovesick smile on his face and can’t even hide it. If you so much as look at him in the hallway? Oh, he’s grinning like an idiot. If you say his name? His entire day is made. He constantly reminds himself, She’s my girlfriend now. I get to love her. I get to take care of her. And that? Oh, he will take that job very seriously.

He always waits for you after class. No matter where you sit, what you’re doing—he’s outside the door, waiting with a big grin. “Hey, babe.” (He’s still getting used to calling you that, but he loves it.) He carries your books without you even asking. If you have a heavy bag? He’s grabbing it before you can protest. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you carry all this, huh?” He starts noticing everything about you. Your little habits, the way you fidget when you’re nervous, the way you tilt your head when you’re thinking. He loves memorizing you.

Oh, he is so clingy, but he tries so hard to play it cool. He wants to be around you all the time. He has zero chill when it comes to other guys. The moment he notices some random dude even looking at you? His entire mood shifts. He doesn’t make a scene, but he gets super touchy. Arm around your shoulder. Hand on your waist. Pulling you closer. Just little things to remind everyone— She’s mine. If a guy gets too bold? Oh. Dick doesn’t get jealous—he gets possessive. He won’t start a fight (unless he has to), but his presence alone is enough to make people back off. “Everything okay, babe?” He asks, voice casual—but his grip on your waist tightens just a little.

He is so cheesy. He will literally text you “Good morning, beautiful ❤️” every single day. If you ever fall asleep on him? Oh. That’s it. That’s his favorite thing in the entire world. He’ll sit there, completely still for hours, just so he doesn’t wake you. He keeps every little thing you give him. If you write him a note? He treasures it. If you give him a silly doodle? He tucks it in his wallet. He gets so excited every time you touch him first. If you hold his hand, kiss his cheek, lean against him? He plays it cool on the outside, but inside? Explosions. “I’m gonna marry her one day,” he definitely tells himself after, staring at the ceiling like a fool.

In his mind? This is it. You and him? You’re meant to be. There is no future where you’re not together. He doesn’t just think about your future together—he fantasizes about it. What your life will be like. How he’ll propose one day. How you’ll be his forever. She loves me. She has to. She’s mine. If you ever mention breaking up? Oh. No. That isn’t an option. He can’t lose you. But he’s not crazy. No, no. He’s rational. If you ever tried to leave him, it would only be because you were confused. You just need to see how perfect you are together. And if that means proving his love over and over again? He’ll gladly do it. Because you are his.

You have officially unlocked the most devoted, lovesick, slightly delusional boyfriend ever. He worships the ground you walk on. He adores you. There is nothing in this world he wouldn’t do for you. In his mind? This isn’t just young love. This is forever.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

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corkinavoid · 9 months ago

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DPxDC Danny Is A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

(not in a necessarily bad way and it's by Clockwork's design)

Bats, or Constantine, or the JL, or whoever you want to be close to Danny in this prompt, don't notice it right away. It takes them a while to figure out its not purely coincidence. And even after they do figure it out, they still have their doubts.

The thing is, it doesn't work all the time. It also doesn't seem to have a system or a schedule to it, nor is it any kind of a superpower, as far as they can understand. By God, does Danny have way too many superpowers, but most of them are consistent, and yet this one... is weird. Weirder than anything they've seen before, and they've seen a lot, okay.

It also only works if Danny does it without thinking.

"You know what'd be perfect right now? A cheese sandwich," Danny says over the comms, in the middle of the fight with Dr. Freeze, "A warm, grilled cheese sandwich just out of the toas- Owch, what?" There's a pause. And then, "Guys, you're not gonna believe it, a cheese sandwich just smacked me in the face! I think someone threw it out of the window or something!" Danny sounds bewildered, but excited, and there's a sound of chewing from his comm now. At least he is eating, so that's good.

"I fucking hate robots," he grumbles the other day, punching his way through the Brainiac invasion in Metropolis, with no comm and only for the Supes to overhear, "No, correction, I hate only evil robots. The ones that interrupt my astronomy class. The ones that shoot motherfucking lasers and walk like crabs, and ruin a perfect day, and- I wish- aw, fuck, no, that's bad wording. Don't wish for shit. But if all these robots would just suddenly, miraculously malfunction and stop attacking me and the whole city, that would be, like, real nice of them."

A few minutes later, something goes wrong with the Brainiac's control over the army of robots, and all of them just stop moving and fall down at once. It is deemed as a chance, a lucky shot, a coincidence. Supes keeps quiet over what he heard Danny say.

"Oh, you bitch-ass fruitloop, you know what I want?" Danny yells at Plasmius, as the ghost is laughing like a madman, "I want a fucking brick to fall down right on your head, like, right now! Maybe that can set your brains straight for at least five minutes!" And even before he is finished talking, there's something falling down from the sky and hitting Plasmius's head. It's not a brick, to be exact, it's Miss Martian's shoe, though. She has no idea how it even came undone and fell from her foot. But it did somehow knock Plasmius out cold, so there's that.

It doesn't happen all the time. Red Robin does the math - the improbable accidents only happen in about 26% of the situations, given that Danny says something. It's by no means a reliable power. It also doesn't happen only during the fights: there were numerous times when Danny just said something like 'I wonder if the cafeteria serves garlic bread today' and sure enough, there's garlic bread there. Even if it was not on the menu. Ever.

They try to question Danny himself, but he has no idea. He doesn't even notice the coincidences most of the times - which is not surprising, knowing that they only happen in one out of four situations and Danny is known to have a short attention span. So, after a few unsuccessful investigations and failed attempts at calculating how this even works, they all give up. It has never jinxed anything, as far as they know, so everyone just leaves it be.

Danny is just magically lucky like that.

Meanwhile, Clockwork is having a good laugh about it. Danny's suggestions amuse him, and it's funny to watch the other superheroes having a mental breakdown over it, so he rigs the timeline from time to time. Just a little.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #batman #superman #justice league #clockwork #danny is a lucky little shit #and yet he has no idea he is #or maybe he does and he just plays dumb in front of everyone #feel free to add your own improbable accidents caused by Danny #or just anything at all #cork prompts #prompt

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aajjks · 12 days ago

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The Shower Show (m)

synopsis. A lot happens when you find out that your horny housemate is taking a shower in your bathroom and the worst way to find out is when you walk in on him naked in the shower.

genre: 18+, cringe, comedy, mature, crack

pairing: roommate jungkook x female!reader

warnings: shôwêr wârs, rôômâtês tûrñêd châôtîc fôês, jûñgkôôk bêîñg â flîrty lîttlê shît, tôwêl drâmâ, bîg d sélf-hypê, înâpproprîâtê shôwêr sêx rêfêrêñcês, dîrtÿ jôkês, thrôwîñg shâmpôô âs â wêâpôñ, sêxûâl têñsîôñ bât nó shôwêr shârîñg (fôr ñôw).

note. Besties he’s here to torture you again.. I bet you’ve missed him, but let’s see share your feedback. Please give me everything. ENJOY. I just want to thank JK for this GIF because it fits so well 😭 also GIF credits to owner. I found this on Pinterest.

•••

The bathroom door is open.

The shower is running.

The universe is testing your patience.

You stand frozen in the doorway, towel slung over your shoulder, brain cells malfunctioning as you process what’s happening.

Jungkook. Your roommate. Your personal headache. Your walking HR violation.

In your shower.

Naked.

Steam curls around his body, clinging to the obscene lines of his back, his unholy shoulders flexing as he runs shampoo through his hair, completely unaware of your presence.

Until he hums.

Not just any hum.

A deep, throaty, sinful hum.

Like he’s enjoying himself too much. Like he’s two seconds away from making the type of noise that would get this entire building evicted.

Your eye twitches.

“JEON JUNGKOOK.”

He jumps. Actually yelps. And then—he turns.

You see everything.

Then you see nothing because your soul leaves your body.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes, completely shameless, absolutely evil. His hair is soaked, water dripping from his stupidly pretty face, rolling down his obnoxiously chiseled chest and lower—

You look lower.

Mistake.

The steam is not covering enough.

Jungkook grins.

“Hey,” he says, like this is normal. Like he’s not standing there, dick swinging, looking like a Greek god sculpted by the hands of sin itself.

Your brain malfunctions.

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU IN MY SHOWER?!”

Jungkook just shrugs. “Yours has better pressure.”

Better pressure.

Better fucking pressure.

Like that is a valid reason to traumatize you before 8 AM.

“Jungkook,” you seethe, gripping the doorframe so tight it might snap. “Get. Out.”

He pouts. “Babe, don’t be like that.”

“WE ARE NOT DATING.”

Jungkook tilts his head. Smirks. Drops his voice.

“But you’ve thought about it.”

Your soul glitches.

“I— WHAT?!”

“I mean,” he hums, so casual, so dangerous, “you’ve definitely thought about me naked before. So this is, like, a dream come true, right?”

Your sanity explodes.

“Jungkook,” you hiss, “the only dream I’ve ever had about you is me strangling you to death.”

He grins. “Kinky.”

“THAT IS NOT—;”

“You should’ve told me earlier, baby. I would’ve let you tie me up.”

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU.”

Jungkook just laughs, shaking his head, completely unbothered, completely insufferable.

And the actual worst part?

He doesn’t even stop showering. He just turns back around, casually flexing, running his hands through his hair like he’s doing an audition for a porn parody of an Old Spice commercial.

Your life flashes before your eyes.

“Damn,” Jungkook sighs, glancing over his shoulder, grinning so hard it hurts. “Wanna hand me the body wash, babe? You can get real up close and personal.”

“I WILL THROW IT AT YOUR HEAD.”

“Mm.” He smirks. “Do it. I like it rough.”

You black out.

The next thing you know, a bottle of shampoo is flying across the room.

Jungkook dodges. Laughs. “Ooh, feisty.”

You are going to prison.

“You’re seriously not leaving?” you demand.

Jungkook just leans against the wall, completely naked, completely hardheaded, and possibly just hard at this point.

“Why would I?” he smirks, tilting his hips slightly, watching your eyes flicker down involuntarily.

Fuck.

You looked again.

And he knows it.

Jungkook grins. “Wanna touch it?”

You make a strangled noise.

“I—EXCUSE ME?!”

“What?” He grins wider, stretching, flexing, committing war crimes against your sanity. “It’s really nice. People say I should charge.”

Your brain ceases to function.

“I—WHAT PEOPLE?!”

Jungkook shrugs, completely casual. “Y’know. The lucky ones.”

Your life is over.

You should leave. You should run.

But you’re too furious, too flustered, too weak in the knees to even move.

Jungkook notices. Oh, he notices.

“Damn,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your very obvious reaction, his voice dropping even lower. “You’re really into this, huh?”

You sputter.

“I—NO?!”

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Babe, you’re standing there watching me like I’m the main course at a five-star restaurant.”

Your soul leaves your body.

“JUNGKOOK.”

“You wanna ride me so bad—”

“I WILL KILL YOU.”

He laughs. Laughs. Like this is fun for him. Like he’s living his best life while you suffer.

And then. Oh.

Oh.

The real war begins.

Jungkook leans back. Smirks. And then drops the bomb.

“You know,” he purrs, so cocky, so smug, so filthy,

“shower sex is scientifically proven to be good for your health.”

Your entire body malfunctions.

“EXCUSE ME?!”

“It’s efficient,” he winks. “Gets you clean and gets you off. Two birds, one very lucky stone.”

Your soul ascends.

“I—WHAT THE HELL—;”

Jungkook tuts, shaking his head. “Damn, no wonder you’re so grumpy all the time.”

You malfunction.

“Y’know,” he continues, completely evil, completely Jungkook, “I could totally help you out.”

Your brain combusts.

“YOU ARE A DEMON.”

“Or,” he grins, so sinful, so smug, “I’m just really good at what I do.”

You cannot breathe.

Jungkook tilts his head, all fake innocence, all filthy intent.

“You’re curious now, aren’t you?”

You launch the showerhead at his face.

Bestie, you want filthy? You’re getting filthy.

“OUT.”

You’re dripping wet, the bathroom is steaming up, and Jungkook? Still standing there, looking entirely too entertained.

“In a second,” he shrugs, leaning against the doorframe like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Now.” You point at the door with all the authority you can muster while wrapped in a damp towel.

But Jungkook? He just grins.

“Damn, babe, you’re really gonna throw me out when I’m standing here, fully clothed, knowing damn well you just got all wet and needy—”

“Jungkook.”

“—And naked.”

You whip a bottle of conditioner at his head. He dodges, but barely.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re in denial.” He tilts his head, all faux innocence.

“You sure you don’t wanna share? It’s an efficient way to save water. And time.”

“GET OUT.”

He scoffs. “You act like I haven’t seen tits before.”

“Not mine.”

“Yet.”

You stare. “Jungkook. I will kill you.”

He bites his lip like he’s thinking. “Damn, at least let me die with a good visual.”

You grab the showerhead.

“Okay, okay..” he laughs, hands up, but his eyes are shamelessly raking over your barely-covered figure. “You don’t have to be shy, babe. We’re roommates. We share everything.”

“Not this.”

“C’mon,” he grins. “It’s not my fault I’m built for shower sex.”

You gape. “Built for—what the fuck?”

“I mean, you’ve seen my thighs.” He gestures to himself, completely dead serious.

“Perfect for bracing you against the wall, if you think about it.”

Your brain is short-circuiting.

“Oh my fucking goodness.”

“And don’t even get me started on my stamina,” he continues, absolutely shameless. “I could make you—;”

The shampoo bottle goes flying.

Jungkook DIPS.

He books it out of the bathroom, laughing his ass off, knowing damn well you’re about two seconds away from actual murder.

Fucker.

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