#and then killer? you just be killer JK he says: is it even possible for there to be any hope for me? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soleilnomoon · 2 years ago

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Hiya!! I’m absolutely in love with this event you’re doing and wanted to put in an order with you if possible 🥲❤️

Can I please have a glazed donut with caramel and a touch of whipped cream, a Neapolitan rose cake with poppy seeds and whipped cream and a #1 (Kidd) from the secret menu?

For a f!reader (Gn reader is also perfect, whatever you’re comfortable with!)

Thank you so so much!!

hihi!! ty for being patient with my very slow writing 😭💓 anyway i love kidd he's so fun to write and he's just so silly being grumpy like that all the time. i wrote this like i was possessed so i hope you enjoy 😊also as u know enemies 2 lovers is my shit, i love it sfm.

3.3k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; smut, enemies 2 lovers, hurt/comfort, a splash of angst (nothing major it's so tame i promise maybe), and fluff if pretend real good (jk it's there somewhere); feat. oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), fingering, kid being a bigass bully but reader dishes it back, kid is a mean bitch when he's jealous but what's new, reader likes it ok; is this toxic??? maybe a lil idk, i'm into it ok. both of them need to do better; killer makes a brief cameo! (if u see grammar/spelling mistakes, no u didn't :))

“listen, memory’s got a hard heart and a soft head. / whatever light the eye sees, the heart says dark, dark, dark.” — charles wright

an empty beer bottle shatters on impact the moment eustass kid chucks it at the wall near your head; thankfully your keen senses allow you to miss the attack, just barely.

“care to explain,” you say as carefully and as cordially as you can, teeth grinding against each other every time you pause to calm yourself, “why the entire fuck did you throw that at me?” you keep your distance from your hot-tempered captain, staring fiercely at him, not at all fazed by his intimidating presence.

kid pours himself a glass of scotch and ignores you altogether, grunting noisily before downing the drink all at once.

“kid,” your tone is anything but amiable, he can taste your annoyance even from across the room; everyone had cleared the kitchen once you and kid started arguing — the crew has been privy to one too many explosive fights and they were tired of breaking them up. when it doesn’t look like he’s going to answer truthfully, you roll your eyes and toss your hair over your shoulders. “know what? i’m done, i’m leaving this stupid ship, because there’s no way i’m going to survive with a shitty captain like you.” the words leave your mouth much too fast, spurned by the two glasses of wine you had previously.

you weren’t even mad that he threw the bottle, you were used to the outbursts and you were equally as destructive as he was — much to the chagrin of your crew mates, who constantly reminded the two of you to figure something out quickly.

kid knows better than to encourage you to leave, even though the words touch the tip of his tongue, but he thinks better of it and says nothing. instead, he fills another glass and drinks again.

“do whatever you want,” he dismisses you with a wave of his hand, eyes closing as he lounges on a chair lazily. he doesn’t mean it, of course, but you decide to interpret that as him giving you permission. bile rises to the back of your throat, and you will yourself not to let a single tear fall. you sniff loudly and turn your face away before storming out of the kitchen.

you bump into killer on your way out, but before he can ask what’s wrong you run off. he doesn’t chase after you as he has a sinking feeling that you and kid had yet another fight that requires his mediation.

a thankless job if anyone were to ask him.

he finds kid with his eyes closed and a frown stitched onto his face. killer sits across from his captain and sighs loudly.

“start from the beginning,” he says smoothly, watching kid carefully to see if he’s actually going to give him the whole story this time.

kid doesn’t move for a long moment, but he knows he can’t avoid killer so he relents. he tries not to think about the shape of your mouth, or the curve of your hips; he tries and tries and tries, but he can’t get your face out of his head.

“it’s not a big deal,” kid says gruffly, voice low, irritation spiking all over again when he slams the glass on the wooden table — the force of it rattling the furniture nearby.

killer crosses his arms against his chest and fixes kid with a steely glare, one that penetrates through his mask. still, kid insists on pleading his case.

“you know she argues with me on purpose, why are you always on her side?” he will never understand; if anything, his crew should side with him always. loyalty above all else, after all. there’s no legitimate reason for why you and kid are always at each other’s throats — it’s probably because you’re more alike than you think and your stubbornness always clashes with his; he’s also controlling and bossy, pigheaded and a pain in your ass.

and yet, there you are, sighing in defeat as you press your face into your pillow and try not to scream.

the funny thing is, as much as you both like to deny it, everyone can see that this is pent up sexual frustration that will implode sooner rather than later. kid would rather gut himself than admit that he likes you, would rather swallow nails for ninety days before confessing to you first. similarly, you hate the idea of him having this sort of power over you — that’s what you tell yourself anyway; if he knew how much you liked him, then you’d never hear the end of it.

his ego knows no bounds and you don’t know if you’d be able to tolerate him being that smug around you.

still, you’re sorely tempted to just tell him and get it off your chest; maybe if he sees where you were coming from, then he’ll ease up. you doubt it, though. while you’re not oblivious to the heated looks that kid gives you, if you give into that desire, there’s no coming back from it unscathed.

your poor battered heart can only take so much, you need to protect it from men like him — men who come in like storms, wrecking your life without remorse.

killer’s lecture only pisses kid off even more, but his best friend has never steered him wrong, so he takes his advice seriously. his issue with you is so painfully simple that if you knew you’d make fun of him forever — at least, that’s what he thinks anyway.

his attraction to you has only grown stronger over the years and you have an iron grip on him without even realizing. he fucks other people to get you out of his head and it only gets worse. you tried your best to flirt around in the hopes of finding someone to take your mind off him, but everyone you meet pales in comparison.

there’s never anything wrong with them — they’re just, so nice, so… tame. and you hate that kid has gotten you accustomed to a certain kind of chaos that you crave without meaning to. you know that you’re much too intense for just anyone to handle, so you don’t try that hard anymore. for some reason, this pleases kid more than it should. he actively sabotages anyone’s interest in you for the sole purpose of keeping you to himself, all without telling you, of course.

killer wants to tell you to wise up about kid, but knows that it’s not worth it; you won’t listen to reason anyway, will you?

you like to lie to yourself and say that you hate him, but you know you don’t. and kid doesn’t want to admit that part of the reason why he likes you so much is because you’re dismissive around him and are one of the few people who dares to talk back to him. he likes that part of you so much that he’s sure it’s an unhealthy obsession at this point — hence why he’s always acting out whenever you’re nearby.

you know you should just let it go, try to find a middle ground with him — and he keeps telling himself that if he fucks you once, maybe you’ll calm down and stop nagging him so much.

one can only hope, right?

after docking the ship on a small island, you take to exploring around the closest town. the others follow kid to a pub and drink heavily. because it’s packed inside, kid opts to finish his drink outside, where the breeze caresses his skin gently; he finds solace in the cool evening temperature and almost heads back in when he hears laughter.

a few feet away, you’re standing with an unknown man — a civilian from town, most likely — smiling like a mischievous cat, batting your eyelashes and touching his arm every so often. kid narrows his eyes, jaw clenched as he finishes his drink, his anger steadily rising at the sight.

you’re in the middle of accepting a date, when kid calls your name out. loudly.

you try to ignore him, but you know that he’ll only be tempted to do something outrageous so you apologize to the stranger and stomp over to your nosy ass captain.

“what do you want now? can’t you see i’m busy.” your face is flushed from embarrassment — and the stranger leaves once he sees the fierce look kid gives him from over your head — and anger, a deadly combination that makes you look every bit as cute as you are alluring.

he wishes you’d stop being attractive so he can get over you quickly; but yet there you are, fussing at him without a care in the world. your lack of fear only makes him want you more. he licks his lips and motions for you to follow him back to the ship.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you say, holding your ground and not moving an inch.

kid swivels on his heels and his audacity reaches new bounds when he says, “either you walk on your own or i carry you. either way, you’re getting back on the fucking ship.”

something about that stirs something forbidden inside of you, a wicked heat that makes you squirm a bit under his gaze. if you don’t comply that’ll complicate things, but if you do that’ll only mean you’re giving in to his demands and you don’t want that.

right?

lips parted, an argument rolls onto your tongue, but he grabs your face roughly with his hand and stops you from saying another word. “i’m serious.” and you know he is. you swallow hard and nod, following after him quietly, heart beating much too fast. you tell yourself you’ll make it out of this in one piece, but you make the mistake of following kid back to his room, all of your self-preservation thrown out of the window when you close the door behind you and sigh.

kid’s anger nearly blinds him; he didn’t think he’d ever be that jealous, but he saw the way your soft features were illuminated in the moonlight, and it became painfully obvious that he wanted you to look at him like that too. but, again, stubbornness and cowardice work in tandem, making it easy for him to avoid that sort of vulnerability for the time being.

“you can’t keep bossing me around, you don’t get to tell me what to do,” your words come out sharp, but your voice lowers when he steps closer to you and backs you against the door. “you also can’t get jealous because you and i aren’t dating.” this is the first time you’ve actually said that out loud to him; he considers your words, but only chuckles darkly in response.

“and that’s where you’re wrong.”

you stare at him, wide-eyed; what an impossible man. whatever residual irritation you have steadily dissipates, as you try to tell yourself that fucking eustass kid will only bring you more headaches. but then he pushes his leg in between yours, and then you’re leaning into him, back arching, chest heaving the moment he kisses you.

there’s nothing delicate about the way kid handles you; with brutish strength, he rips through most of your clothes, laughing when you shriek and chastise him over it. he kisses you repeatedly, tongue swiping against yours playfully as he grabs your ass. heat courses through your body viciously, making you pull away so you can unbuckle and unzip his pants, stroking his stiff cock without prompting, admiring the length and thickness.

this man will be the death of you, that much is certain. but you’re going to enjoy the ride the entire time regardless.

you sink to your knees, the wooden floor cool against your skin. you run your tongue along the length of his cock, soft hands massaging his balls with skill and ease. kid fights to not moan your name, instead opting to tug on your hair roughly. “stop teasing me,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, lust fueling his thoughts and actions.

he’s trying to be considerate, but at the pace you’ve set, he has half a mind to just take over; but he lets you have the reigns briefly, watching you with half-lidded eyes, tongue gliding along his bottom lip as you suck on the thick head of his cock.

“fuck.”

you take that as confirmation to continue, looking up at him, desire burning through you as you open your mouth and slacken your jaw to take in more of him. whatever you can’t fit in your mouth, you compensate by using your hands. his hips jerk forward, and he braces his heavy, mechanical arm against the door, while his other hand grabs onto your hair and tugs you off him.

“make it sloppy,” he says roughly, and you squeeze your thighs together, plush lips parted as you exhale deeply. you know better than to disobey that command, so you give him what he wants, bobbing your head up and down his cock, hands twisting and pumping around the base. your saliva coats his length and he sucks in a harsh breath when you moan and suck on his tip, persistent and playful.

he ends up thrusting into your mouth, cock gliding further down your throat with his help. you let him fuck your face, his groans loud, vibrating along your skin, making your pussy slick with your arousal. his hips jerk forward, his breathing uneven as you hold onto his thighs for support. if he doesn’t fuck you soon, you might pass out honestly. he knows if he continues, he’ll only end up cumming in your mouth and he doesn’t want that just yet.

when he tosses you onto the bed, you get on all fours, tempting him with your ass — that he’s admired for far longer than necessary — you look over your shoulder at him, lips swollen from his kisses. he thinks you look pretty like that, a dazed look on your face, insatiable in your desire for him. he’s in the same exact boat as you, muscles tensing as he pulls the rest of his clothes off.

you shiver slightly, rub your lips together and let out a shrill whimper when he licks along your slit, your arousal dripping onto his tongue once it slides in between your folds. you don’t think you’ve ever had someone taste you like that — like you’re a coveted fruit, like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t devour you whole right now. kid eats your pussy with fervor, leaving open-mouthed kisses and slurping messily.

grabbing at the bed sheets, you make an attempt to shift away from him, but he holds you steady, tongue circling dangerously around your throbbing clit. you yelp, cry out loudly, and beg for more.

he hums absently, before he slides a thick finger inside of you, pumping it in and out, watching as you fuck yourself against his hand once he inserts another finger. he scissors them recklessly, and you shamelessly buck against him before he swaps his fingers for his tongue.

“yes, fuck, right there,” you chant, breathing erratic as you chase the high that kid is dangling right in front of you. he’s barely holding on himself, but he has a point to prove. he swipes at your clit again, flicking his tongue against it before sucking on it hard. a flash of white blinds you, and when you cum forcefully enough to make you slump over.

still, kid’s not done with you.

he admires all the marks he’s left along your thighs and ass, smiling to himself haughtily. you know he’s probably grinning like a fool right now and you don’t even care to argue with him about it. you rub your ass against his cock once before he thrusts his cock inside of you; he grants you a bit of mercy, pausing so you can adjust to his girth before snapping his hips forward and fucking you at a merciless pace.

with a hand on your back, kid bucks his hips roughly against yours; your thighs tremble and your voice grows hoarse from how loud you’re moaning for him. the walls in the rooms aren’t thick, so no doubt some of your crew mates have heard you already — not that you care about any of that right now anyway.

his balls slap against you with each stroke, his cock burrowing deeper inside your cunt without remorse. he grabs you by the back of your hair and pulls you flush against his chest, back arching as he powers into you with short, frenzied thrusts. your pussy is soft and warm around him, making him think irrational, impossible things — making him want to be different with you.

the pads of his fingers are rough when they rub against your clit, and he wraps an arm around you to keep you close as he fucks you faster. sweat pools at your temples, the room is hot but not uncomfortable. he pushes you down onto the bed, pulling out of you momentarily and panting lightly. when he enters you again this time, he plunges in deep enough to have you babbling incoherently as tears glide down your round cheeks.

he laughs at your whimpering. “big baby,” he says teasingly, the taunt dark with intent. “all that mouth but you can’t take my cock, what a damn shame.” you know he’s joking, but your face burns with shame anyway.

“shut up,” you manage to say with great difficulty, moaning shamelessly as he rolls his hips against yours. kid presses a kiss to the side of your neck, and you’re surprisingly okay with the intimacy — and he is too.

strange. very, very strange.

it’s when he angles his cock like that that you cum again, clenching around his girth, holding him hostage as his thrusts become sloppier and frenetic. there’s a feral possessiveness that he exudes when he rolls you onto your back and throws your legs over his shoulders. you barely have the strength, but you do your best to keep up, hips lifting to meet his menacing strokes, pussy squelching loudly.

his bed sheets are soaked, but he doesn’t care; all he cares about is this. you. he realizes that now — very belatedly, but still. he finds himself tipping over the edge when you lean up to kiss him sweetly, almost affectionately. he meant to pull out so he could cum on your stomach and thighs but doesn’t, he cums inside you instead.

it’s thick and hot, you whimper against his lips pathetically, nails clawing along his back, head spinning from the intense way he fucked you.

after a minute or so, he pulls out and clarity hits him. you look over at him as he stretches out on his large bed, lazy like a mountain lion, eyes closed briefly. you wonder if this is where you get kicked out and you dread the walk back to your room — especially since kid rudely ruined your clothes. he feels you shift on the bed, arms and legs shaky as you sit up. he frowns, not liking the idea of you leaving and grabs onto your arm, tugging you towards him gently.

although with a man as large as him, his idea of gentle is different than most. you find yourself laying on top of his chest, confused but also content, smiling secretly as you duck your head to avoid his gaze. he plays with your hair before yawning.

“i was going to—”

he pulls you closer and you clamp your lips together, afraid of saying anything else that might disrupt whatever peace has settled between you two.

kid hesitates only for a moment before saying, “stay.” it’s almost cute, the way he’s suddenly very demure, as if the idea of asking anyone to stay over has never occurred to him. but he knows that if he lets you leave, then things might go back to normal, and he doesn’t want that.

not that he knows what he wants exactly, but that’s beside the point. he’ll figure it out in due time, but for now, he’ll enjoy having your body next to his.

#finally finally done #fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #eustass kid smut #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid x y/n #kidd x reader #kidd x y/n #one piece angst #one piece fluff #eustass kid angst #eustass kid fluff #eustass kidd smut

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ilovemylawyer · 4 months ago

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hiii, im back <3333

i was just thinking about how doyoung kind of remains mysterious in his rituals, like i for once never seem to fully understand what tf is going on inside in his mind maybe i just didn't put enough effort in understanding his microexpressions, still ive been thinking about him winding down for the day lately and every trivial aspect of him like getting out of bath and using body oil or something, bonus points if it gets anomalous teehee because unlike some allegations of him being greasy i think he takes his hygiene very seriously!! atleast whenever he could. sooooo could you pleaaseee maybe sometime write about him just indulging himself in his unwind routine and getting ready for his next day, it's just very important for my mental health i think...yeahh and it doesn't matter which part of timeline it's set in, possibly somewhere in ep 6? im not being serious here, i never was.

lots of love byeee 💗💗💗

hihihi welcome back dear <33

doyoung is totally mysterious! i think it is absolutely intended by the show to make us, the viewers, not privy to the interworkings of his mind. this makes it easier for us to sympathize with dongsoo (to a point..) and it makes it easier for us as viewers to write doyoung off as a psycho criminal killer and NOT understand him as an inexperienced lovesick fool. i think this is totally intentional so i don't think you Missed anything by not scrubbing every scene <3

re: hygeine. HMMMM... so i am more of a greasetruther. at least up until the silver jacket gets replaced with suits and such. but all of that, the fashion upgrade for dy and his men, i see as a direct result of ds' desires. pre-suited dy and gang, his hair is noticeably like. greasy. it just is. i think if he cared about hygiene/appearance on his own, he'd keep his hair shorter and maybe own more than one pair of pants.

BUT! in ep6, he does change to become Cleaner. so your timing here would be correct. like i said i think this is only because of dongsoo. he realizes just how important status/respect/appearance* is to dongsoo, and decides to make himself more desirable by slicking his hair back and dressing like an adult. but i unfortunately do not think he would ever make this decision if not for dongsoo's high standards.

if i do this i think i can make it ep6, a little pre-funeral prep sesh. here are my problems: this would be totally doyoung centric, doyoung pov doyoung brained solo doyoung alone in his big borrowed house. this is AWESOME in theory, but i THRIVE with dialogue, back and forths and quips and spoken lies and stuff. i do not feel like i have a strong, detailed voice for bathtime relaxation. but also ep6 is a rocky dyds episode, ds is supposedly leaving for good and never coming back, dy knows his (ds') mom is going to be executed, dy has already said his would-be final goodbyes... this is tough.

and this: "im not being serious here, i never was." i think (and i could be wrong, i don't quite know, this is only my best guess) that you're trying to say something like "haha jk... unless?" but i am not entirely sure. but i take everything (EVERYTHING) very very very seriously even in our extremely fast paced irony-poisoned world. my friends call me "serious" all the time. there is no need to be anything but serious w/ me! otherwise i actually get pretty confused (which may be evident rn) but plzzz never feel any kind of shame or embarrassment for any kind of ask to me! FR!

i take this show and my contributions to it like, deathly seriously. that is the only reason i cannot 100% guarantee u that i can pull this off. i have started a doc and jotted down my initial notes/thoughts, so it is there! but this will not be my main focus rn. the longer i think on things the more ideas i get, so this request might just take me some time to mull over/break down/work out. and maybe it'll turn out like super radical gnarly awesome cool. this is something that we will find out together!

MUCH LOVE ALWAYS! thank u forever for ur ask and i promise i will think some more on this and see if i can't figure it out <33

#ilml #asked and answered #if you have any specific ideas/thoughts/scenes about this in mind feel free to send my way #that might help me work out something feasible

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metalomagnetic · 1 year ago

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I was curious to know why do you think that in canon, why did dumbledore not fight for Sirius to get a trial, despite knowing him in school. I’ve seen many people bash dumbledore for this reason but I thought that he was simply convinced that Sirius had changed sides

I think that's not Albus' as a character fault, but JKR not planning ahead. That mistake was an oversight of JK, really.

That being said, to make it make sense, I think (and write) Sirius was very badly behaved- he was a bit cruel, a bit of a bully, a wild card, came from Black family, probably used some questionable spells now and again or said something bigoted without realising (as anyone raised in a bigoted family would do, even unconsciously); I think he did some bad stuff before his arrest, he annoyed some Order Members etc, so when he was caught amongst dead muggles and with a finger left of Pettigrew, and Sirius was laughing his head off and then admitting it's his fault....really, why wouldn't Dumbledore think Sirius changed sides and went back to his family? Especially since Bellatrix was arrested a few days later, confirmed as a devout Death Eater, and Regulus was mysteriously 'missing' and his other cousin married to another Death Eater.

I like to think Dumbledore would have wanted a trial for him and all the other men that didn't get one, but these were troubled times, martial law was probably in place, huge changes were being made in the Ministry- the aftermath of a war is rarely about justice. It's about cleaning up the mess, fast, and in real life many men like Sirius ended up in prison.

So yes, it probably made sense to Dumbledore- Sirius had an upbringing and behaviours that hinted at a possibility of betrayal, and Sirius laughing over corpses didn't much help. It seemed obvious, so they went with it.

Same for Aurors not checking his wand for spells- it seemed he did it, he confessed, why bother? It was chaos, the very next morning after V's death, and they were arresting suspected Death Eater left, right and centre, so no need to investigate a 'sure case'. Like I said, it happens very often in really life, after an abrupt change of regime or civil war etc.

On top of it, Dumbledore is neither an Auror, nor a Minister- this was the Ministry's job, not Dumbledore's, and they failed spectacularly. Maybe he did ask, maybe he enquired about Sirius and Barty Crouch or Fudge or anyone else said that he confessed (which Sirius sort of did, saying it was his fault, that he got them killed, etc. He kept saying that even to Harry in book 3, making all of us reader believe he truly was a killer, the vague way in which he was speaking. Again, this is bad writing by JK, to get some drama in with the ol' miscommunication trope).

So that's how I try to make it work. It's one thing to view Albus as a flawed character, as a manipulator, but quite another to look at that man and believe he willingly threw Sirius in Azkaban (as if he had that power) just so he can 'steal' Harry away from him.

Hell, maybe he even asked Remus 'do you think this is likely?' and Remus would have said yes. Of course it was Sirius, because James made him Secret Keeper, because they were besties; who else could it have been? Silly little Peter? No way, he was not skilled enough, and James wouldn't have trusted Peter with the Secret over Sirius.

I don't think Dumbledore was too close with these kiddos, really. It's more questionable to me that Remus never thought to question what he heard, because, unlike Dumbledore, he knew Sirius, knew this was the boy that wanted to risk his life to become an animagus just so he could keep him company; he knew how tight Sirius and James were.

Alas, it seems even for Remus, Sirius betrayal seemed a likely story, and this must be because Sirius was going around acting like a menace, way before he was arrested.

#sirius black #hp meta #albus dumbledore

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aajjks · 1 year ago

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scream baby!JK

did he really think you were gullible enough to believe that do-il was the killer? you noticed the buck 120 missing and neither you or do-il wielded such a specific knife except jungkook. do-il died as the serial killer when it was jungkook. you won’t allow an innocent man, a dead innocent man to be criminally charged with something he’s never done.

if you tread carefully, jungkook can become like putty in your hands. as they say, not all serial killers are smart and your dear friend must have one weakness that you can exploit but that’s not at the forefront of your mind at the moment.

right now, you’re screaming and crying at the flurry of emotions that come all at once. anger, betrayal, sadness, hurt. you feel it all and just by looking at jungkook’s smirking face, you grow angrier and angrier by the second.

his compliment does nothing to soothe your raging thoughts. a pretty crier? he even sounds like a psychopath. that’s because he is one.

he’s heartless and a manipulator.

that’s what hurts the most…

“love? LOVE?! you think this is love?! i will never ever love a monster like you. EVER!!” you cry at your ‘best friend’ who just stands and looks at you with the most nonchalant face. “fuck you jungkook. FUCK YOU!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME PLEASEEEEE!!!! HELP!!!!!”

you know screaming for help is pointless but someone will hear you…right? right?

you bang on the doors of the cage over and over and the banging does help release some of the anxiety piling in your body because of your desperation to find a way out; to scream for help.

“jungkook, please. PLEASE…please don’t do this okay? get me out of here. i won’t tell anyone, i swear. i’ll leave town, i won’t tell the police just get me out. GET. ME. OUT. pleeeeeease”

~🫧 ellooo :)

Are you seriously thinking that you know threatening to go to the police will help you get out of here? Why would you underestimate him like this?

You are annoying the fuck out of him because you’re screaming at him, and you broke his heart you just told him that you’re never going to love a psychopath like him… maybe you do deserve to rot in here for a few days maybe then you’ll understand just how better you are with him.

He needs to break you if he wants to have you.

“Shut up yn.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “ do you really think I’d give a fuck if you go and tell the police about me? Baby did you do that first of all you’d have to get out of here and the way you’re behaving with me that’s not possible.” Cannot help because you’re literally amusing him right now.

You’re just behaving like when a few of his victims that dared to fight back against him, thinking that they could actually make it out alive.

well they’re dead now. “Yn you are never getting out of here because you just refused to love me.” Jungkook is tapping his feet on the floor, looking at you with disappointment and boredom.

Your tears are actually exciting him even more he doesn’t feel bad for you, because.. you don’t understand him he thought that you would.

He has done this all for you. he has saved you from creeps so many times simply by choosing to eliminate them. You should be grateful to him, but right now here you are cursing him out and calling him a psycho.

Well, how long can you really do that? He knows you have a strong spirit, but he knows how to break you as well.

You have to love him, no matter what he can just kill you.

And then himself.

“Yn if you don’t love me, I’m going to kill you.”

#ask: scream baby!jungkook #🫧 anon

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rozeliyawashereyall · 7 months ago

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1. Oh they absolutely despise them. How could anyone be friends with that mistake of a child, Korey? She was nothing but an object in their home. They managed to get the village against her, but seeing the bugs get all friendly with her angers them oh so much.

2. Definitely not easy to kill I'll tell ya that. Probably even survived it if she didn't get into a dumb accident.

Yup, that's right. While Korey is probably one of the stronger bugs, she would absolutely die in the dumbest way possible in a slasher film.

3. Probably slipped on a banana peel, fell down the stairs, hit like 20 objects on the way there, somehow survived the head injury, before being stabbed by the killer. Loony toons ah death

4. (Why would you call me out like that)

I'll say this— if Korey ever met me, hands are getting thrown and I am NOT surviving 😭

5. Used to be a lil intimidated by Victor and Lucy, but after some talking they got along greatly!

Korey admires every bug there is in the army, but to list the ones she admires the most! Those being~ Raine, Esther, Varen, Lucy and Victor!

6. 'Ruh Roh—'

Jk jk, Korey would immediately go to Chester and alert him about what Audrey did. She's immediate to protect him though, and even if she no longer sees him the same. She's throwing hands with the authorities.

Because goddamn does Korey love a fight...

7. Sigh.... goddamit Chester—

While hesitant to do so because he was her friend...Korey would absolutely grab him from other side and slam him against the metal bars, if not break them down (she's just built different)

Sorry guys, but I don't think Chester is surviving this one–

You people give ur bugs sm trauma, sometimes I just wanna put them in the palm of my hand and hold em, let them have some god damn peace

Anyways, let's ask some (potentially traumatising) questions!

1) What would your Bugs parents opinion be on the rest of the army/ bugs that are close to ur Bug?

2) If your Bug was in a slasher film (eg: Halloween, Scream, Friday 13th) How quickly would they die? (Inspired by the bugscord)

3) Adding on to 2, how would they die?

4) Would your Bug be mad at you? I mean look at their past, look at their emotional state...could your Bug ever forgive you for forcing them to deal with all that? (Looking at you Roze, and...well...most of the army-)

5) Are there any Bugs that scare your Bug? Or any that they admire?

6) Scenario!

Bug had been spending the day outside, it was a nice day...why wouldn't they be outside! It had been a calm day, they had been *insert wtv you think ur Bug would be doing like a hobby or smth* until they saw a figure approaching the cottage. They were guarded at first till they saw it was a messenger, carrying a letter

The messenger explained that they had a letter for a Mr C Markins? Bug agreed to take the note and give it to Chez when they saw him. They took the note and the messenger left, Chez was currently away fishing and wouldn't be back for a while so they held onto it

But something in there mind couldn't stop wondering what was in the note..so eventually they went against their better judgement and opened it, it read

'Chester,

I couldn't stand it anymore, I couldn't keep your wretched secret. You're a murderer and you have to face the consequences of your actions, I know you had good intent, Erik was abusive but murder? Chester murder is never okay!

I have contacted the authorities, they are on their way to find you and you shall be executed the day after you are returned to town. I hope to get from row tickets to this event

Don't try to run, they'll find you

- Audrey Markins'

What do they do?

7) [...]! AU (you'll learn what it is, just read)

The rescue plan was in action, it was time to get the boys (+ Lora and Roldan) out of the arena!

Everything had been going perfectly, Bug, Chez and Marco has snuck in no problem, everyone was out of their cells and they had been wandering the halls. Chez was leading, holding a map of the arena, covered in doodles of potential paths and escape routes, though he didn't seem to be paying it much attention

They had been walking for ages, deeper into the dark/ forgotten corners of the arena. Then they came across what appeared to be a large cell, the door was ever so slightly ajar. Chez stopped just outside of it and pointed to the outline of a door at the far end of the cell

"That's it, that's our path out."

He ushered everyone into the cell, Bug leading infront and Chez trailing beind. Bug went to open the door...only to find it didn't open. That's when they heard a loud clunk and the undeniable sound of a lock being turned behind them.

They looked around to see the door shut, Chester on the other side of the bars, everyone else now trapped in the cell. He held onto the bars with one hand, the other holding a ring of keys he had snatched from a guard earlier

Bug demanded to know what was going on as they stormed over to the bars, standing right infront of Chester, the only thing between them being the bars of the cell

"...they're monsters *Bug*, they may have you fooled but they couldn't fool me. Monsters the lot of them"

Bug told him he was wrong that half-bloods were not monsters, he sighed as his gaze met theirs

"This is why you're in there with them, you've been tricked, tricked into believing these creatures are worth anything! They're murderers. Cruel, heartless beasts! They don't care about you or me, only themselves. They can't be freed, they're a danger, and knowing how much you care about them...you can't be free either"

That's right it's a Traitor! AU! ^^

Anywho what does Bug do?

☆---------------☆

Tags -

@rozeliyawashereyall @willowve01 @asmrbrainrot @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii @insignificant-anarchy @stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow @rustycopper4use @piffany666 @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @lunaritychuwolf @littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @threeweekinsomnia @recated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry @lunnats @lightdragon789 @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid @itsargyle @astralbulldragon13 @ccstiles @puffin-smoke @fruity0salad @takashishihoin @reefhastoomanyaccs

#answering :3

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merakiui · 2 years ago

Text

[iii.] ᵃ ʷᵃʳᵐ, ˢᵗⁱᶠˡⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵉᵃ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, r18 implications, violence, brief mention of blood, alcohol/intoxication chapter ii│chapter iii (you are here)│chapter iv

Today’s Thought - Merfolk are reminded of humans when they find artifacts and skeletal remains scattered in shipwrecks. I once happened upon a pair of shoes floating on rocky waters, and not too far below the surface was the corpse. Humans often strip themselves of their second skin when they are in peril. Death carves at the fragile, eroding stonework of their minds and it produces a tragic sculpture that’s haunting to behold.

“A certain strawberry devil ranted to me about how you ought to submit your app. It was so bad I felt like I was the one getting lectured.” With a sharp tut, Cater adds in the best condescending tone he can muster, “Shame on you. You’re the worst. You’ll be cursed for a thousand years and more for such a heinous crime. Or maybe I should say you’ll lose your head instead? This is Riddle we’re talking about and that’s basically his catchphrase.”

Scoffing, you snuff your laughter and drag the dainty nail polish brush along your fingernail. At once it’s stained in brilliant gold, a color so rich it mirrors all things wealthy and elegant—expensive finery, the retreating sun in a cotton candy sky, the polished prestige of valiant knights who don silver and return to aureate statues honoring their legacy.

“Yeah, he got on my case this morning. Nothing new.”

“That’s Riddle for ya. He’s had his entire life laid out since birth and now he’s going to try to mend yours. He was like that when we were in school. Always chartering courses for our academics and stuff like some pilot. All aboard Riddle Airlines, where your journey’s filled with beheadings and rules and crazy pressure! Honestly, it was a little overwhelming…”

“First of all, keep me as far away from Riddle Airlines as possible. And secondly, who said my life needed mending?”

“Not me,” he says in a teasing sing-song. “Seriously, though. If you don’t wanna work there, tell him. Riddle won’t know how you feel unless you let him know what's up, point-blank. TBH, it’s starting to look like you enjoy it when he scolds you. Who knew my adorable (Name) was such a devilish masochist! Where was this when we first met?”

“Hah. You wish. I’m just glad Riddle and I are on talking terms again, even if most of it’s work-related. It’s still surprising he moved all the way out here. I wasn’t expecting he’d work at DD either.”

“Right?! It was way too impulsive! One day he calls me—completely out of the blue—and asks what you were doing with your life. I told him he should just text you to get the latest scoop, but he was so insistent that it had to be me. Eventually I gave in and shared the goss, and a week later he declared he was moving.”

“What’d you tell him?” You spread your fingers to inspect your iridescent nails.

“I said you were getting married to a rich man who swept you off your feet, and the two of you will live in a big house and have three kids.”

“Knowing Riddle, he probably believed it.”

Cater barks out a laugh. “JK. I said you’re working at DD and that you’re finishing your degree. That’s all.”

“Huh.”

“You don’t sound very convinced. What? Don’t tell me you think I’d give him the full truth. It pains me that you have such little faith in your bestie.”

“You didn’t, right?”

“Of course not. Riddle doesn’t need to know. Actually, what have you been up to lately? I never know anymore.”

“Says Mr. Magicam. You always know what’s going on.”

“Aha! Guilty as charged, Your Honor.”

Your hand lowers on your lap and you lean back against the headboard of your bed. For a minute you listen to the ticking clock on your nightstand while the cloying stench of nail polish assaults your nostrils. Cater doesn’t say anything and instead chooses to wallow in the silence with you. Eventually, you inhale a quiet breath and tap your phone until it’s brightened to show the outgoing call counting out every second. It breaches the ten minute mark.

“Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you.”

“If Riddle asks about me or my life again, tell him everything’s fine.”

“Done and done! You can count on Cay Cay. Just know that he’ll continue to worry no matter what I tell him.”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you mumble, blowing on your nails in hopes of getting them to dry faster. “Do you think gold suits me?”

“Oh? Is someone going out? What a shame. And here I was getting ready to pop the age-old question.”

“Karaoke can wait. This is important.”

“No fair. I really wanted to duet with you. Some friends are coming in tonight, too. I was gonna make it a big thing.” The faux dejection in his tone has you imagining the accompanying pout. “Is it that guy again?”

“He wants to get dinner and I forgot to buy groceries. And if I’m getting a free meal out of it, why should I decline?”

“Using your resources wisely. Good for you,” he praises. “So what’re you wearing?”

“A black dress.”

“Have fun at your funeral. Don’t you want to wear something brighter? The sun sets in an hour, lovely.”

“It’s cute, okay! I’ll video call right now and you’ll see what I mean.”

“I believe you.” Cater’s face appears on the screen moments later and you struggle to hold your phone without ruining your still-drying nails. He peers at you and when you catch his gaze he winks. “Where’s the dress? All I see is a cutie.”

“Gross.”

“You’re so harsh on your bestie! Cut me some slack! Can’t I shower you with my platonic affection?”

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, look. It’s cute, right?” Flipping the camera, you present Cater with a view of the strapless, thigh-length dress as it hangs off of your doorknob. He whistles playfully. “I have to put in some effort at the very least and this is the only fancy-looking dress in my closet. I’ll find a necklace or a bracelet to match and then we’ll be good to go.”

“It’s a pretty dress for a pretty lady. I’ll give ya that. Why black and gold, though? I thought you said this guy was into sailor aesthetics.”

“He is. He likes cutesy stuff like that. Lace and frills and summery dresses. But it’s not like I can show up to a five-star restaurant in sailor lingerie.” You heave an exhausted sigh while he cackles at the mental image of you turning up half-nude to a fine-dining establishment. “I can’t afford most of what he can, so I’m trying to look rich. And… Well.”

“What?”

“I don’t feel rich.”

“You know what they say. Fake it until you make it, cupcake. Are you worried he’ll make you foot the bill if you don’t look the part?”

“No. But I’ve been thinking about ending things with him and I want to look somewhat presentable so he won’t judge me when I break up with him after dinner.”

“Dine and dash? More like dine and dump. Rest in pieces, mystery guy’s heart. You’ll be remembered… But why now? Isn’t he rich? You could hang onto him for a few more months—at least until you graduate and he’s paid off your student loans.”

It’s not real love.

“He can’t reach all the right spots,” you admit with a sheepish laugh.

“That’s all? Oh, how I mourn for you…”

And I hate burdening him with the thought that it might be.

“I read an article about a murder that happened near your workplace. What was it called again? The Devil’s Dignity? Death? Delicacy?”

“It’s The Devil’s Delight, and they’re saying the body was dumped there. So technically he wasn’t killed under the boardwalk.”

“Regardless, that still means someone killed and disposed of a human being.” Azul sips at his lemon water, a grim frown turning his lips down. Amidst the chatter in the palatial restaurant and the jazz band that plays notes so suave and mellow they’re practically musical caramel, your date fits into the puzzle with flawless grace. You wonder if you look as out of place as you currently feel. “It could have been you. You should be more conscious of your surroundings.”

“It’s not going to be me. Whoever killed that man has no reason to come after me. I’m working minimum wage, I don’t have any rich relatives, I’m not worth any ransom, and I don’t have anything that can be used against me in exchange for my life. No kids, no spouse, no safe filled with a crazy, worth-killing-for inheritance. I’ll be fine.”

“There doesn’t have to be a reason. You could’ve been accessible. An easy target.” He shakes his head and sighs, setting his glass on the pristine tablecloth. “It’s too dangerous out there. You’re better off moving in with me. I recently upgraded my security system, so if anyone does come after you you’ll be safe.”

“But I already have an apartment.” You lift a butter knife from the table and run your fingernail along the blunt, serrated edges. “Besides, living together is a little…permanent. Wouldn’t it bother you if we were roommates? I’m noisy and I stay up late. I’m also unorganized and—”

“I'm aware, but what’s mine is yours. I welcome your company, no matter how noisy and unorganized it may be, with open arms.” Your silence doesn’t seem to be the answer he’s searching for because he clears his throat and schools his expression into something serious. “You’d be much closer to school and there are lots of things to do in the city. Job opportunities are plentiful.”

“I’m going to work at an aquarium.”

“Really?” Azul quirks an eyebrow.

Wringing your hands under the table, you gaze at the golden chandelier that hangs overhead, light winking from each individual crystal like perfectly whitened fangs. “I already submitted my app and I’ve been waiting to hear back from them. So I can’t make any promises until I get a response. Sorry…”

“No, no. I completely understand. You’re chasing your dreams, after all. It would be rude if I intervened.”

It looks like there’s more he wants to say, but with the sudden arrival of the waiter any addition goes unspoken and interrupted. You set the knife in its rightful place while he decorates the table with your dishes. A delicious aroma wafts from the meticulously arranged portion, and it looks so picturesque that you can’t help snapping a photo while the waiter drones on about each meal and how it was prepared. You doubt the salad Azul ordered was a painstaking process, but your dish resembles an art piece swiped from a museum and recreated in food form.

What did I even order again?

Tiny, bite-sized balls of meat have been grilled to perfection, a thin layer of grated mozzarella has been sprinkled over it like snowfall, and in the center of the dish, sitting piled amidst a black sauce, is spaghetti with a basil garnish. The creative display reminds you of tiny meat planets orbiting a pasta sun.

“An aquarium,” Azul says after a few minutes of watching you poke at your meal, sip from your white wine, and avoid eye contact like it’s a loaded gun pointed directly at your head. “You’re studying marine biology, aren’t you? What exactly would you like to do at this aquarium?”

“Train dolphins. No. Actually, I want to rehabilitate injured sea creatures.” You stab a chunk of meat and bring it to your lips. “Maybe live on a boat to study merfolk? Or coral reefs? Sea conservation?”

“In other words, you haven’t the faintest clue.” His blunt declaration squeezes a laugh out of you and he sighs. “(Name), I want to help you achieve your goals. I think marine biology is a wonderful fit for you, but you can’t just skate through your degree without a solid plan. Do you want to travel abroad for your job? Do you want to settle down and live with me instead? These are questions that need answers.”

“Wait. What?” You gaze at his hand as it crawls across the table and settles atop yours like a spider cornering the unfortunate fly that fell into its dainty web. “Azul?”

“I want to do everything I can to support you so that you’ll find the success you deserve. But I worry about you. When you live in such a grimy hovel—excuse me, a cramped apartment—and you’re barely making enough to survive… I can’t turn a blind eye to that. You know you can lean on me whenever you want. No matter what happens, I will always lend you my hand. And I hope that you’ll take it when it’s offered.”

His arm retreats from you and he reaches into the depths of his blazer, his overbearing determination freezing you to your seat. You’re not quite sure if this is the moment where all of your fears erupt and overflow like molten magma, so ferociously hot that it chars your insides and leaves your heart in ashes, but it certainly feels reminiscent of a situation on the verge of a volcanic eruption.

Bathed in the ethereal aqua from the tropical fish aquarium, a massive display that sits in the very center of the room and stretches towards the ceiling, Azul cradles something small and cube-shaped in his palm. Before you can excuse yourself from the table, the urge to flee to the washroom more present than ever, he rises from his seat and lowers to the floor, one knee propped against the marbled tile. You stand as well and, painted in cobalt hues, it’s as if you’ve found yourself at the sea floor, shackled amidst waterlogged sailors. Fish peer at you as they pass, curious enough to watch from afar but not wishing to get between you and your date.

If you thought you were on the verge of death before, your heart is already flatlining and lava is streaming from the volcano, snapping at your heels like the red-hot jaws of a famished devil.

Azul is an angel in his fine suit—the king of pure, everlasting sugar snow—and he bows before you, a princess hailing from a land in shambles. Like the decrepit, abandoned ruins that reside within your chest, you want nothing more than to crumble into dust. Regret drives a stake into your side when the velvet box props open, revealing a sparkling ring with a cornflower sapphire positioned in sterling silver so glossy it reflects your shock. If such a moment can be classified as otherworldly, then you certainly feel alienated amongst Azul and the many onlookers who turn in their seats to ogle at the touching spectacle.

“I know we promised we wouldn’t let this get too emotional,” he says, his usually debonair expression fraught with bashfulness. Hesitating for a single breath, he removes the ring from its silken coffin. Your heart sinks all the way down to your stomach, nestling amongst your intestines like a worm desperate to evade the ravenous bird that pecks at it. “But everything you do makes me feel so… Well, so emotional. There’s a better word for that, surely, but when I’m with you I lose all forms of coherency and I feel like the luckiest creature in all of this vast world. I’m honored to have met you, but I would be even more honored if you’d continue to stay by my side. Not as a friend, not as a benefit, but as mine to love. Forever and always.”

You’re trapped under the intensity in his stare as your eyes dart to and fro, searching for an escape route. Azul’s gentle voice pulls you back, a reminder that this is a reality in which you can’t just conveniently disappear from.

“(Name), will you marry me?”

Raw horror prickles your skin when the ring winks at you in the dim light, a reminder that you’re stuck on this stage until the curtains fall. You glance at the people who watch with bated breath, eyes wide and prying. As if a noose has been fastened tightly around your neck, you lose the ability to speak and are instead forced to open and close your mouth like you’re gasping for oxygen in a tumultuous sea. You’ve always enjoyed the whirlwind of luxury that envelops you when you’re with Azul, and you’ve admired the way in which he operates with mounting adoration. But you’ve never once considered marriage. The both of you made an oath two years ago—a sacred vow that must never be broken no matter the circumstance.

You meet his unwavering stare. “Play along. Say you’ll marry me,” he whispers with a wink. In a much louder voice, he adds, “My love for you isn’t a sickness. If anything, it’s the cure-all to loneliness. I’d like to be your panacea, if you’ll allow it.”

“I…” Tears well in your eyes and your lip quivers. “Of course I’ll marry you. I…love you, Azul.”

Those words cauterize your tongue, branding you as a liar.

As delicate as a butterfly, Azul slides the ring onto your finger. You stare at it, and when he embraces you it feels as if you’re merely a statue of yourself—a vacant ghost who cannot return to the mortal coil she was once bound to. Your arms wrap around him and his kiss lingers on your cheek.

“And I love you. More than you’ll ever know,” he murmurs before pulling away and grinning at the audience.

His hand slides into yours and it’s a warm gesture that would have comforted you if the situation wasn’t so off-putting. Now it’s frigid and unwelcoming, a strange sensation that unnerves you. You stiffen when he squeezes it and a single tear streaks down your cheek when the crowd erupts into thunderous applause.

“She said yes!” Azul exclaims, breathless with joy.

The beauty of a stranger is that he can fit himself into as many portraits as he wants and you’ll never know the truth, a tiny voice pipes up. Tonight, he is a magician and you are the rabbit he’s pulled from his bottomless hat.

Once the commotion has died down and you’ve lowered into your seat, fish-eyed and hollow, the waiter returns with a slice of chocolate mousse cake. Written on the plate in waltzing script is the word congratulations. You look to Azul for an explanation after the waiter has given his kindest regards. He folds his hands in his lap, a deceptive smirk darkening the softness of his face.

“After the show we so graciously put on, I’d say we’re owed a free dessert.”

You run your finger through the crimson letters. They smear in delightful streaks.

I hate this.

“Go on. Dig in.” Thoroughly delighted, he gathers a bite on his fork and holds it out to you. “Or is cake not to your liking?”

“I like it, but I think I’m going to need another drink before I eat it.”

Azul chuckles. “So it would seem.”

For the rest of dinner, you remain silent. Azul talks your ear off about all sorts of stories he finds comical, but you’re too busy staring at the ring on your finger. The lustrous gemstone looks too perfect to be real and the cake you indulged in was too sweet to be a normal dessert. You’re certain that these things are just in your head—that you’re just focusing on the negativity because of the past hour—but you can’t shake the sense that it’s all so crooked.

After Azul pays, he escorts you to the sleek sports car waiting outside, and you catch the waiter’s eye for the final time. He offers you a courteous smile and another, “Congratulations on your engagement,” before disappearing into the glimmering grandeur of the restaurant.

“You should consider it,” Azul tells you while Floyd, who hums along with the music that spills from the radio in upbeat harmonies, pulls out of the parking lot. You peer out the window, admiring the starless night sky and Azul’s reflection painted against the glass like a fuzzy constellation. “Living with me. It could be part of our arrangement. We would just amend the terms to suit this new addition.”

“I’ll think about it. Your place is a little far from the diner.”

“Then quit.” A dry laugh escapes your pursed lips, but the humorless expression he wears has it sticking in your throat. His fingers trace patterns into your thigh. “I only want what’s best for you. You’re aware of this, yes? I’d do anything for you.”

You force a small smile and place your hand over his. “I appreciate that.”

The car speeds under an overpass and shadows overtake the inside of it. Azul’s blue eyes seem to glow like twin searchlights in a black sea. Swallowing your nerves and an encroaching confession, you submit to the comfort he provides, unable to confront the truth that towers over you.

“It’s an expensive ring, but if you’ve grown attached to it you’re more than welcome to keep it,” Azul suggests as he shrugs his blazer off and hangs it on the coat rack.

Ignoring him, you drag yourself through the door, kicking your heels off without much regard to where they may land and dropping your purse on the nearby crescent table, and beeline for the kitchen. With a singular goal in mind, you open the wine cabinet to peruse the selection of high-quality spirits before selecting one at random and fishing through a drawer for the corkscrew. Azul’s arms form a familiar cage as he presses himself against you from behind, pinning you to the counter like a fetal pig on a dissection table.

“You’re unusually quiet. Have I upset you?” His lips are warm against your neck. One hand intertwines itself with yours, preventing you from prying the cork out, and you release an annoyed huff. “How many glasses has it been now? Three? Or perhaps four?”

“Two. It was two, Azul.”

“So you do have a tongue.”

“I get that free dessert is appealing and all, but a little heads-up would’ve been nice.” Ripping your hand free, you stab the screw into the cork and twist until it’s popped free. “You promised it wouldn’t get emotional.”

“And I’ve kept my promise! Did you think I was serious when I got down on one knee? You must be more gullible than I thought.”

“It just… It startled me, okay? You can’t do stuff like that without warning me.”

You crane your head to look at him and your frustrations slowly evaporate. He squeezes your waist, a slight smile tugging at his lips when the tension in your shoulders droops, a momentary resignation to temporary contentment. Once again, as always, you’ve fallen into his arms, reduced to nothing but putty when he shares so much as a glimpse with you. The sincerity he dons is almost tangible—a pleasant thing that’s so undoubtedly real that you have to remind yourself that, underneath the physical nature of this relationship, he does indeed care for you.

And you care for him. But can you care enough to not leave his heart in shambles after puncturing him with the truth?

Tonight just isn’t the night for this.

“It won’t happen again.” He spins you around, his pelvis connecting with yours, and the sensual proximity stings more than it should.

I’ll break it off tomorrow.

“It’s just physical. That’s all it’ll ever be. Promise me.”

Azul’s hand finds your cheek and you lean into it, eyelids fluttering shut. “Of course,” he mumbles, stroking you with the pad of his thumb. “Just physical.”

Yeah. Tomorrow. Definitely.

“Then let’s forget about it!” You drift away from him like foam caught on a wave, devoured and disintegrated. Without thinking, you grab two mugs from the dish rack and fill them to the brim with blood-colored wine. “Drink with me.”

Smirking, he lifts his mug from the stone countertop. “Going from glittering glass to poorly made pottery… Funny.”

“It doesn’t become funny if you say the word,” you advise, clicking your tongue. “We made these mugs together.”

“I remember.” Azul surveys the design on his with fondness. The handle is crooked and the purple octopus that has been carved into it is composed of wobbly, jagged tentacles. Nevertheless, it still manages a lopsided smile. “And they are my finest works of art.”

With an amused snort, you lift your mug to your lips and drink. Bittersweet wine stains your tongue. “I’m surprised you still have them. That was, like, so long ago. You only did that pottery class with me because I begged and begged, but looking at them now maybe we’re better off sticking to other hobbies.”

Leaning against the counter, he sets his mug down and folds his arms. “I’ll have you know that they'll be priceless masterpieces one day. Consider yourself lucky I didn’t toss them while I was cleaning.”

“Someone sounds sentimental.”

“Someone should be flattered.” Limpid eyes holding summer skies rove over your body, sketching your brilliance in the forefront of his mind, and when he arrives at a satisfactory image his trademark smirk-grin blooms. “In any case, thank you for entertaining my mischief tonight. I’d say you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

His hand finds your cheek once again and you have only a moment to brace yourself before he captures your lips with his. Your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug, which has a carving of a swarm of jellyfish on it. They exist in a red ocean, bound to the pottery and unable to swim freely. Between pondering trapped jellyfish and the delicate nature of Azul’s kiss, you realize you’ve forgotten to reciprocate. Awkwardly, you search for the countertop with your mug and set it down before throwing your arms around him.

Your lips fit perfectly against his and while the two of you exchange breath, melting against one another like ice floes in warm waters, Azul’s hands wander along your back, fingers tugging at the zipper on your dress. You break away with a low gasp, palms pressing against his chest. He peers at you with lidded eyes and you nearly drown in those bewitching blues.

“N-Not tonight…” You glance at the floor and pray that, with enough dedicated wishing, you’ll be able to will a rabbit hole into existence. Then you could wrap yourself in darkness and live with the worms in the soil, only ever fearing intrusive sunlight and gardeners. “Sorry, I’m not feeling it tonight. I have work tomorrow and I really don’t want to be hungover and sore. Bad combo.”

“You can call off. Tell them you feel sick. We’ll spend the morning doing whatever you want. Movies. Junk food. Video games. Are you fond of puzzles? They’re a good stimulant for the brain.”

“I’ll be sick with hickies,” you mumble, pinching his cheek between your golden nails while he fixes his lips into a convincing pout. “That’ll send a proper message.”

“I did say I’d be your cure-all, did I not?”

“Coming from the guy who thinks love is a sickness, that doesn’t sound very reassuring.”

He laughs. “You’re a delight, (Name).”

“And you need to do less talking and more drinking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Why must you drink so excessively?

It’s one of the few coherent thoughts produced by your hazy, inebriated mind. After bidding Floyd a slurred farewell, which he responds to with a bright, close-eyed grin and a wave, you begin the treacherous stumble towards your apartment complex. You rifle through your purse in search of your key as you trudge through the lobby and into an elevator, which takes you up to your floor and spits you out into the desolate hallway.

Where is it? Don’t tell me you dropped your key.

Groaning, you rest your head against the surface of your door and close your eyes for a moment of peace. Doing so only adds to your unbalance and you sway like a faulty ballerina on an uneven stage. Bracing yourself, you grasp the doorknob and freeze.

Even through the fog that’s descended upon you, you’re certain it was locked when you left for the restaurant. Confused, you push the door open and stagger inside, slapping your hand along the wall for the light switch. Down the short hallway, your kitchen light is off and you shuffle through the threshold to reach it.

“You sound so stupid right now,” you grumble, cringing at the unflattering grittiness in your tone. “Probably look just as stupid, too.”

Forget it. Need to find the key. Just retrace your steps.

After turning on the lights in the kitchen, you set your purse down and exhale slowly. Uncaring whether or not you break something, you empty its contents onto the counter and search for your apartment key. Amidst crumpled receipts, pocket-sized makeup products, and a tin of mints, you learn that your key and phone are missing.

You left it at Azul’s. Wonderful.

Sighing, you stare at the knife block that sits beside the coffee machine. Your gaze hardens the moment you realize all of the knives are missing and, with growing confusion, you take a wobbling step back and yank open a drawer. The forks and spoons are there, but the knives that usually reside there are also gone.

Did you move them? Shaking your head, you shut the drawer. That’s not possible. You were with Azul. Did Cater come over before that?

A faint creak permeates the space and you drop to your knees just as a blade swings through the air. Gritting your teeth, you stare up into the face of your would-be assailant had you not moved. He looms over you, mismatched eyes hiding murderous calculations. Terror turns your blood to ice and you leap out of the way just as he lunges for you, grabbing at the countertop instead of your arm. You crawl through the doorway into the living room, mind muddled with fine wine and a still-forming escape plan. Pressing yourself against the coffee table, you swallow your nerves and dig your nails into your palms with so much force you’re certain you’ll break skin. The pain grounds you momentarily, and it’s enough for logic to force its way past the curtains shrouding you.

You have to calm down.

With your heart pumping wildly in your chest, you heave a few frantic breaths, eyes flicking from the ceiling to the floor to the door that waits at the end of the hall, blocked only by the tall figure who stalks towards you.

“Good evening,” he says, his voice a mere ghost in the suffocating silence of your apartment. His finger taps against the sleek, flat belly of a knife as he considers the raw fear splayed across your face. “I retract my previous greeting. Intruders make for terrible evenings, wouldn’t you agree? I suppose I should just say hello instead.”

Calm down. Calm down and consider your options. You can scream and—no, with this proximity he could quickly cover the distance, slash your throat, and you’d bleed out before help could even get here. What else can you do? You can find a weapon to defend yourself with. No, he hid all of the knives. For now, stall him. Act helpless. He doesn’t know anything. You can talk your way out of this.

Uncurling your fists, you brace your palms against the floor and meet his vacant stare. “J-Jade, what’re you…doing here?” Your vision swims and you blink rapidly to gain control of your bearings. “Why… Why do you have a knife? W-We’re friends, aren’t we?“

“Are we?” he asks, tilting the knife back and forth as if considering the worth of your relationship.

“Of course! We… We worked together! And you’re friends with Azul! S-So am I! So I don’t understand why you’d break in like this.”

“If finding companions via association counts as true friendship, then I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken when you label me as such. Please re-evaluate your definition of friendship.”

He’s wearing gloves and a surgical mask, so it’s obvious he’s planned this. How did he even get in? Does he have a key? Where’d he hide? Forget it. Focus on the problem and look for a solution. He has a knife. It’ll cut deep if enough speed and force are put into the stab and that’ll hurt you. Shoes are still on. How rude. You maintain eye contact, tensely waiting for him to pounce and drive the blade into your skull. No other weapons are nearby. Unless you secure a fork from the drawer and target his eyes or his throat. But that means you have to get close to him and he’s still armed.

Dragging your legs into your chest, you watch the knife warily. Escape is possible. If you can get outside, get to the car… That won’t work. Can’t drive. Windows could be smashed. But you’d be outside. No. You can’t rely on a neighbor. Maybe Cater or Riddle? No, it’s too late. But you can get out of here. It’s possible.

Jade glances at his feet. “Ah, my apologies. I seem to have forgotten my manners.”

With his eyes still locked on your shivering frame, he slips his leather shoes off. And then he takes another step towards you and the thread of restraint finally snaps once he’s within range. With the majority of your weight on your upper body, you kick your legs out, driving the top pieces of your high heels into his knees as hard and fast as you can. Caught by surprise, he crumples with a hiss and the knife clatters to the floor, sliding across the hardwood.

Scrabbling to your feet, you swoop down to grab it just as Jade swipes at you. With a yelp, you jump away, landing unsteadily on your legs. Your heel skids against the floor and breaks with a sudden crack, and you can feel your ankle twist unnaturally, the muscles straining with agony. Sharp, tingling pain overwhelms you and your lips part in a silent scream the minute your shoulder makes contact with the floor. Tears blur your vision as you drag yourself towards the knife, reaching out with splayed fingers.

The handle fits into your palm just as Jade grabs you by the arm and yanks you up.

“For a drunk, your kick was very accurate. I’m impressed.” He tightens his grip when you struggle, a warning that doesn’t deter you in your desperate frenzy. “I should also thank you for allowing me access to your humble home whilst you were away. You’re quite the accommodating host.”

Growling, you thrash in his grip and swing the knife around in a fit of blind panic. His hand catches your wrist before you can slash his face and he shoves you to the floor. A wheezing gasp bursts from deep within your lungs and your head aches with fizzling stars. You’re certain they’re imploding because it’s as if a dozen firecrackers are popping within your skull, the explosions drowning out all other thoughts of escape. Survival is the only thing you cling to now, and if that’s attained through animalistic bloodshed you’ll do what you must.

“Please…” you plead, grasping at nothing in hopes that something will save you. “You don’t want to do this… Don’t do this.”

Get up! Get up! You’re going to lose consciousness if you stay here like this. You push yourself up on your elbows, grunting with the effort. It’s as if you’re ripping your arms free from a pit of molasses so thick it’s practically tar. His foot finds the small of your back and he pushes you down as if he’s simply crushing a cockroach. No, no, no! This can’t be happening. What did you do wrong? What didn’t work? Your reaction time? Your reflexes? Your combat capabilities?

Sliding his foot off, he lowers himself onto your back and the tip of the knife digs into your temple. A thin ribbon of blood runs down the side of your face. “If you would be so generous, I’ll need the password to your phone.”

“My phone…isn’t here.”

His eyes narrow into disbelieving slits and his hand grips your neck with enough brutality to cow you into submission. “Is that so?”

“It’s the truth. You can…” Vomit rises in your throat and you swallow thickly, wincing at the acidic taste of wine and bile. “You can check…my purse if you don’t believe me.”

Silence stretches taut between the two of you. Eventually, he rises to his feet and steps over you, proceeding to pick through the pile of items you haphazardly dumped on your countertop. Clenching your jaw, you lift yourself onto your arms once again, clawing at the wall for support. With a spinning carousel for a brain, you manage to stand and brace yourself against it.

You take a daring step forward, so certain that freedom awaits just down the hall, and instantly stumble, landing on the floor with a harsh smack. Everything shifts in a swirling blur, and you can’t tell if it’s from the intoxication muddling your mind or the pain racing through your body. The urge to vomit returns stronger than ever, and you clasp your hands over your mouth, stifling a pitiful groan.

“It’s pointless to flee. You’re just exhausting what little energy you have left.” He turns to address you from where you remain on the floor, clinging to consciousness as the walls spin around in a dizzying waltz. Despite how futile it seems, you attempt to crawl away from him when he approaches. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect much when you’re in such a messy state. What an unfair disadvantage for you.”

“Hate you…” you whisper, tears brimming. “I hate you…so much.”

Just as your eyelids flutter shut, you catch his final words. They echo within your brain like the haunting hum of an Aeolian harp.

“I’d be more surprised if you loved me.” Chuckling, he lifts your chin with his foot. “Don’t cry. It’s a hideous look for a parasite. I find it most unappealing.”

I hope tomorrow’s horoscope is better.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #serial killer jade #death row undertow #death row undertow chapter three

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ppersonna · 4 years ago

Text

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks and @hongism for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily.

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it.

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water.

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk.

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo.

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?”

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above.

“You call Jimin a prince?”

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband.

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.”

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.”

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own.

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.”

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.”

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid.

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom.

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed.

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it.

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can.

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone.

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway.

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk.

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read.

He just matched with YOU.

His best friend.

His secret, lifelong crush.

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it.

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen.

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other.

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message.

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone.

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend.

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone.

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion.

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff.

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband.

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line.

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend.

“It’s nothing!”

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.”

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.”

You roll your eyes.

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off.

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams.

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback.

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly.

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures.

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen.

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is.

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork.

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you.

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause.

“What’s up?” He asks curiously.

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner.

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours.

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own.

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to.

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator.

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze.

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face.

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest.

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others.

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park.

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too.

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth.

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm.

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing.

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it.

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck.

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes.

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently.

“And I promise to never run away from you again.”

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself.

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again.

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with.

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing.

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss.

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours.

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly.

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed.

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?”

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement.

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.”

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited.

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs.

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes.

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more.

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.”

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable.

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan.

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water.

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently.

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue.

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue.

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets.

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully.

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.”

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body).

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are.

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down.

“Still dreaming?”

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire.

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes.

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout.

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?”

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug.

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing.

“I plan to find out everything.”

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.”

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss.

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you.

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body.

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands.

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.”

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation.

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.”

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off.

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt.

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation.

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion.

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship.

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister.

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

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#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #ficswithluv #jjk smut #bts fics #jjk fic #jungkook fic

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theneondemonx · 4 years ago

Text

MY TYPE | JJK

One Shot

▽ summary: you’ve never liked fuckboys, especially one Jeon Jungkook. But when you find yourself late at night playing a game of seven minutes in heaven with your college friends, things take a different turn.

▽ genre: porn with very little plot, college au

▽ pairings: fuckboy|jk x fem!reader

▽ words: 2192

▽ warnings: implied alcohol use, jk jerked off to your insta pics (y/n living the dream), oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk, nipple play, jk has a big dick

A chorus of ooohs filled the messy living room in which you and your friends were sitting in circle. It was late and most of the party guests had already gone back home, leaving just a small bunch of you and a pile of garbage all over the house. You would have gladly leave the place way earlier if it wasn’t for your best friend Se-mi, who you promised to drive back home. She insisted in staying longer to hit on Min Yoongi, one of your fellow classmates from the same major, but the guy seemed to barely notice. He might even been interested in her for all you knew: there was no way of telling, since he was always so introverted. The only person he spoke to was his disaster of a friend, Jeon Jungkook, the campus playboy.

How do they even get along? They have literally nothing in common.

And you knew this, since you had been often paired with Yoongi for some group projects during the years. The guy was cool. He was really smart and funny when you actually got to know him. He just didn’t open up easily. That’s why, even though you’ve had the opportunity to chat with him several times, you couldn’t really say you two were friends.

But back to the ooohs. The reason behind that childish reaction was to trace in the empty bottle of beer who had just stop spinning, pointing at you and the infamous Jeon Jungkook, who was having the time of his life – judging from the mischievous grin on his face.

You weren’t blind, you knew he was hot as fuck, but he was way too aware of his good looks and terribly overconfident. He was known to have slept with most girls on campus, and you were pretty sure he was more dedicated to keep his record than to actually graduate. Which, for a good student like you, was infuriating.

You had always found him annoying and obnoxious. And on top of that, you couldn’t figure out how girls seemed to fall for his cheesy lines every single time, throwing themselves at him like he was the only guy with a dick.

Sure, you didn’t really knew the guy, but in your opinion there wasn’t much to know about him. He was a cliché. And you couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time he tried to hit on you. Because he did. Of course he did. You were just his favorite type of prey: one that was not easy to catch.

“Well, you know the rules, guys. The closet is right at the end of the corridor. You have to stay in there for seven minutes. If you get out earlier, you have to kiss in front of everybody for the remaining time. And if you don’t get out.. well.. good for you.”

“Don’t worry, Jimin. Seven minutes are more than enough.” You said with a sarcastic tone, giving him a fake smile while you got up and adjusted your skirt.

Jungkook scoffed, getting up and leaning closer to your ear to talk in a low voice, but loud enough for the others to hear.

“You must have had some pretty lame sex if you think so. Hope I’ll change your mind.”

“You’re disgusting.”

And that’s how you found yourself sharing the tightest possible space with a known fuckboy like Jeon Jungkook.

As soon as you entered the closet, you pushed your back against one of the walls, folding your arms to your chest to make him understand in every possible way that you weren’t going to give into any of his shenanigans. Stupid move, since your shirt was a bit low-cut and that only made your tits pop up even more, looking like a four course meal to the blatant gaze of Jungkook.

“No class to run to this time, mh?” he immediately uttered, giving you a malicious smile while leaning with his shoulder against the door frame.

“Unfortunately.”

He rolled his eyes, darkened even more by the dim light of the small space you were both trapped in.

“Oh come on, do you really want to turn this game into seven minutes in hell? You don’t necessarily have to be a mood killer.”

“I just don’t like you, Jungkook. I know you are not used to hear it, but that’s just how it is.”

Your comeback didn’t seem to affect him at all. If anything, he just made him chuckle and slightly shake his head.

Seriously? You are that full of yourself?

“Ok, so it’s another Y/L/N Y/N who liked my photo at the gym from three years ago and then changed her whole profile in a ridiculous attempt to hide it.”

Your eyes widened and your cheeks turned suddenly red. You got caught.

“It was a mistake.” You tried to explain yourself, knowing too well that there was nothing you could say to go back from that.

He raised his eyebrow, looking straight at you from underneath his eyelashes.

“You scrolled through all my Instagram profile by mistake?”

No you didn’t. You just got curious. That’s the kind of shit you did at three in the morning when you couldn’t sleep. You just find yourself looking for weird stuff on the internet and scrolling through profiles of people you barely knew for no apparent reason. It was just a bonus point the fact that Jungkook’s profile was full of pictures of his body sculped by the gods. Sure, you were annoyed by his attitude, but you were still a woman.

“And you did it so very late at night, if I might add.” He said, taking a step forward towards you. “What were you doing, Y/N? Looking for something interesting?”

You blushed so hard that you were pretty sure he could see the redness in your cheeks even despite the poor lighting in the closet. But you couldn’t help but stare at him in the eyes like a deer caught in headlights, unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze.

“I wasn’t.” You murmured, defensively.

“You don’t have to feel ashamed, you know? I was awake too – thank God, if I might add. I would have missed it otherwise. I would have found myself locked out of that mysterious profile, unable to look at your cute pictures.” He paused, leaning way too close to your face. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had some fun with those.”

Normally, you would have told him that he was sickening, but for some reason you felt a pleasant warmth irradiating in your belly. You couldn’t help but picture him jerking off to your photos, and it wasn’t sickening at all. If anything, it was weirdly enticing.

He rested his palm on the wall, right next to your face, and looked down at your body like he was ready to devour it in one bite.

“I recognized the skirt, you know?”

You didn’t remember wearing it in one of your pictures, but it was plausible: that skirt was one of your favorites. Cute and short, but not too revealing.

“Well, I hope you saved the picture, because that’s all you’re gonna get.”

This was your response, when you actually found the courage to talk. But your voice was so low and shaky that you found it hard yourself to believe your own words. Of course he didn’t fall for it.

“Are you sure?”

You bit your lip, nodding in a last ridiculous attempt to give yourself a standoffish look, which again he didn’t buy at all.

He got even closer, slightly pressing his body against yours until your heavy breaths were melting into one another and you could feel his hardness on your stomach.

You did not respond. You were brain dead. All you could feel was your core painfully clenching around nothing and your blood flowing down to your lower belly, emptying your head of any thought beside those filled with the desire to feel his body.

“Mh.. okay..” he said, gently resting his hand on your thigh and starting to go further up with an excruciating slow pace. “So you don’t like this.”

It wasn’t a question, but it was clear he was looking for a reply you were unable to give. A soft moan escaped your lips at his gentle touch, which you didn’t move away from. A silent green light for him to go even further up, taking his caress under the hem of your skirt until his digits were brushing the damp fabric of your underwear.

“You want me to stop, Y/N?”

His words were a mere whisper against your lips to which you couldn't help but faintly gasp.

“No.” You found yourself saying, right before being cut off by the kiss he gave you, pressing his lips against yours and spreading them open for his tongue to enter your mouth.

You moaned, melting like pudding against his body while his fingers started drawing slow circles on your sensitive clit.

“For someone who finds me disgusting you got yourself soaking wet pretty fast, princess.”

His provocative words only got you wetter and needier, pushing you to the edge of your psychological barricade. Your hands rushed to his belt, unbuckling it with fast and sloppy movements until you could zip down his jeans, letting his hard cock spring free in front of you.

Fuck he’s big.

He seemed to have somehow read your thoughts in your eyes, since he chuckled, guiding your hand to wrap around his width and slightly moving it up and down while letting out a raspy moan.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and take me in your mouth, princess?”

You licked your lips, looking up at him with your eyes filled with lust while you slowly got to your knees. You never broke eye contact, pumping him slowly but steadily before swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, covered with precum.

“Tastes good?”

“Mhmh.” You nodded with a mischievous smile on your face.

Your mouth soon wrapped around his cock, taking it all in until you started gaggin a bit for the length. A reaction which made him moan loudly and grab your hair, steadying his grip in order to guide your head in the increasing pace.

“Fuck your mouth feels so good.”

“You like it? Is this what you pictured while jerking off to my photos?” You said during a small pause, not even giving him the time to respond with anything but a loud moan, since you immediately got back to deep throating his cock like it was your last meal.

“Fuck I’m close.”

Those words only made you move faster, keeping your eyes locked with his to take in every ounce of pleasure you could get from him. And at that point there wasn’t much he could do to hold back. You suddenly felt his hot semen spilling down your throat.

However, you only had the time to swallow before he leaned down, wrapping his arm around your waist and lifting you up with ridiculous ease.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, letting him push you against the wall and move your wet panties to the side to sink deep inside your throbbing core.

You let out a sharp moan, welcoming his size between your tight walls with pleasurable pain. One of his hands got under your shirt and bra, squeezing your breast and tracing circles with his thumb on your hard nipple.

“Look at you. You got so wet just by sucking my cock, baby?”

His words were again a lustful whisper against your parted lips, but you were unable to respond – your voice cut by the deep thrusts he was torturing you with. You were sure, however, that the lewd sounds of your wetness were enough of an answer to him.

“Such a pretty little slut. What are you gonna tell the others when they’ll see my cum dripping down your thighs?”

You moaned loudly, helping his pace with the movements of your own hips to take him even deeper.

“I’m gonna tell them that this lame sex little slut made you come twice in a row.”

He groaned, thrusting harder in you.

“You are so fucking hot.”

The pace got quicker and quicker until you found yourself out of breath, calling his name in between moans while your legs started shivering, signaling your forthcoming orgasm. And when it came, it hit you like a train, making you grab his hair and moan loudly while your walls clenched around his cock. You felt him twitch inside you until he sank deep with sloppy thrusts, releasing his orgasm inside you with a raspy moan.

You two took some moments to relax your racing heartbeats, leaning against each other's forehead with eyes closed and heavy breaths.

When you felt again capable of speaking, you let out a pretty laugh, pressing your palm against his cheek.

“Hope this memory will serve you well for your future lonely nights.”

He laughed, caressing your nose with the tip of his.

“Trust me, this won’t stay in the past.”

“Jerkass.”

“Nerd.”