#in actual applications and day-to-day life

[misctf]

I’m a Latino twink and I just got accepted into Alpha Delta Alpha but my fraternity brothers have been acting weird around me and I’ve overheard them talking about their “lost brother” and how something is “an abomination and needs to be fixed” there’s a party tonight and they’ve lent me some clothes I don’t want to wear them in case it’s some kind of prank

“Are you all fuckin’ serious?” Garrett Thompson cursed angrily, “Bros, what the actual fuck were you thinkin’?

“Dude, we tried our best!” One of his bros replied.

“Yeah! It wasn’t fuckin’ easy, bro.”

Garrett groaned and rubbed his temples. How could this be happening? How could... He figured it must’ve started at last year’s rager. One day, he’s a party animal. Lady’s man. Campus stud. Fuck, he lived quite the life. Then suddenly he’s a ghost. Some kind of accident. Total tragedy. Trapped between this world and the next. Just wandering around campus. Unseen, unheard, and worst of all- unable to get off. Months passed and as he wandered the frat house...

“Yooo bruh...” Jamie saw him, his eyes red from smoking weed, “Garrett is that you? So good to see you man.”

After months of not being seen, Garrett couldn’t believe it. Of course the stoner bro would make first contact. And Jaime- all too willing to delve into the occult- quickly started doing his research. Telling the other frat bros about Garrett.

“Dudes, hear me out.” Jaime slurred one night, “I know how to bring Garrett back.”

Garrett watched their plan unfold. Jaime rambling about some kind of magic and finding the perfect vessel. They would need some kind of anchor for Garrett’s spirit. He watched as they rummaged through old bins in their frat house and found his old jersey and clothes. Apparently getting some poor dumbass to wear his clothes would be all he needed to rejoin the living. But then things stalled. No one wanted to join Alpha Delta Alpha after Garrett’s accident. And no one wanted to wear some dead guy’s clothes. So, Garrett started to lose hope. Until...

“No fuckin’ way.” Garrett had thought when he saw you join the frat, “Bros!” He tried to yell, “You can’t let some fairy join! Dudes!”

But it was too late. When you joined, the frat was clearly uncomfortable. You weren’t exactly their ideal applicant. Lean and gay, you were certainly a first for Alpha Delta Alpha. And if the plan failed... well they’d be stuck with you... But it wasn’t just that. Some felt uncomfortable with the true purpose of you joining. Jaime’s plan was seen as an abomination by a few of them. But you largely ignored both the weird feelings you got and strange conversations you’d overhear tidbits of. Besides, they were your brothers.

And so when they came to you with some old clothes and told you to wear them, you did just that. After some initial hesitation, you stripped and picked up a jock strap. It was dirty, and carried a stale smell of sweat and cum. You cringed as you slowly pulled it up your legs, securing it around your cock and bubble butt.

“Fuck yeah.” Garrett said, watching you from the corner of the room. He grinned as he floated over and placed a hand on your cock, his eyes widening. It was brief, but he could actually feel the cloth of the jockstrap.  

You turned to inspect the other clothes, shifting uncomfortably at the sensation from your dick. Your tan cock started to lighten in color, becoming white with a thick, pink head. And as your bubble butt lost its padding and became thick with muscle, your cock started to grow. Inch after inch, it eventually settled on 5 inches soft. But you barely noticed these initial changes as you pulled up the basketball shorts. As they traversed your legs, the melanin in your skin broke down, turning your legs white. But it wasn’t just your skin that was changing. A forest of wiry leg hairs burst forth into existence, covering your now increasingly muscular calves and thighs. And as the shorts settled on your waist, you let out a moan.

“Fuck, he’s really enjoin’ this.” Garrett mumbled, watching as your muscular ass made contact with the bed, “Of course he is. Becomin’ a real fuckin’ man.” He grinned and sat next to you. His ghostly hand on your leg, “It’s basically jerking off.” He reassured himself as he wrapped his hand around your new cock.

You let out a moan as your cock hardened and bulged in your pants. You were always a bottom, rarely caring much about your cock. But now? Fuckkkkkkk.... It felt so good. Your mouth was agape, drool pooling as pleasure overwhelmed your brain. You hadn’t felt pleasure like this since you bottomed last. And in your haze, you looked down to see a hand. A ghostly hand.

“What?” Your eyes widened when you saw Garrett, “Oh fuck!”

Garrett pulled his hand away, “Dude! Shit! You can see me?” He could see the terror in your eyes, that only seemed to grow when he noticed his legs, “Okay, bruh... just chill.”

“No, no, no!” You say, “I...I...!”

“Stop fuckin’ talking and put the shirt on, bro.” Garrett insists, “Dude...” He grinned as he floated over to you, “I know you want this.” His hand rubbed up against the bulge in your pants, “You and me bro. Together. Come on.”

You bite your lip and resist letting out another moan. What the fuck was happening to you? What were these clothes doing to you? Did you want this? It would be nice, right? Would it? What would happen if you put the shirt on? You barely notice that the skin of your torso is becoming whiter. And your muscles are starting to expand. As you consider the possibility of becoming Garrett completely, your body is already moving in that direction. Before you can think more on this, Garrett’s ghost seemingly starts to sink into your body. His eyes are wide at first, he grins as he realizes he's being anchored.

“Wait...” You watch as your arm moves against your will and grabs the jersey, “Ohhhhhhhh....” You moan as your other hand grips your cock and starts to stroke.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and gasp. You look more and more like an Americanized Latino jock. Far from the twink you had been. And you cry out as the jersey is lowered onto your upper body. And as it settles into place, you groan. Muscles expand rapidly, filling out the jersey nicely. Your pecs become shelves- far from the lean musculature that got you compliments from all those tops. Your abs pop into existence, one by one. And you watch as your arms become a beefy mass of ripped triceps and biceps. Bulging with just slight movements. The strength flowing through you is so unfamiliar. So different. So...

“Fuck yeah bruh.” The words leave your lips without any input from your brain. The voice deep and dumb, “Dude, it feels so fuckin’ good to be alive.” You feel as your calloused hands roam your muscles, squeezing your pecs, “Nighty, nighty.”

And you feel yourself fading. Your mind wrapped warmly in thoughts of beer, football, and videogames. God, you couldn't wait to see your team play again. To grind up against someone at the club. What a life you were going to have now. A simplistic life. Garrett’s life. Your life...

Garrett grins as you settle on one identity, “Fuck....” He moans, “If dying meant doing that again...” He chuckles, “Alright, let’s...”

He strokes his cock and finds his favorite porno. Feminine moans fill the room, and Garrett breaths hard. Stroking faster- desperate. Growing frustrated as his cock softens. Not deriving the same pleasure that he used to. His mind wandering to post-game locker room showers. And his teammates' muscular bodies. And slowly, Garrett stops stroking his dick. His eyes start to widen.

“SHIT!”

Now, as he stands around his frat bros, he can’t help but wonder how he could be gay. How could Garrett Thompson, back from the dead, only want a dick up his ass? Garrett shakes his head and sighs. He couldn’t be angry at them... fuck they were so sexy. His eyes roam and he takes in their exposed muscular arms, and cocky grins. He imagines what they might be packing down there. What it might feel like to wrap his lips around their dicks. And his cock starts to stir.

“You good, bruh?”

Garrett snaps back to reality, “Yeah, yeah...” He flips them off, “You’re lucky you’re all so cute, you fuckers.”

The other bros looked at one another, sly grins forming on their faces. After all, Garrett owed them for all the trouble they went through. Right?

[fucktoyfelix]

Building Consent Culture

From consent.academy

"Consent” is a word with many meanings and applications. It is more than ‘no means no’ and ‘yes means yes’. These simple rules are sometimes helpful, but consent applies to every part of our daily lives - and life can get complicated!

Consent is mostly about feelings, sensations, and power. And feelings, sensations, and power are really complex things. ​How easy is it for you to talk about your feelings? Do you always understand why your body is having different sensations? Do you always know how powerful you are?

Consent is about slowing down and taking in the bigger picture. One way to understand consent is to consider it a shared feeling created together through a process of constant, collaborative discovery. It’s a feeling that comes from voluntary agreement (made without coercion) between those with decision-making capacity, knowledge, understanding, and autonomy.

Consent is present in all forms of human interaction (not just sex). 

Practicing consent creates a space where the safety and agency of all parties is honored, using healthy communication and negotiation to craft informed boundaries. Consent, explicit and implicit, is dependent on the context of the situation, and can be revoked at any time. In any given day, consent is affirmed and violated multiple times. People do it to us and we do it to other people. Creating the conditions for consent is a skill that gets better the more you practice. We need to practice consent in regular, day-to-day situations so we’re prepared for more intense ones like driving a car, being in romantic relationships, and having sex. If we violate consent in these situations, we could cause serious, lasting harm. Practicing consent everyday lowers the risk of consent violations happening, and it also prepares you for what to do when things go wrong.

How Do You Practice Consent?

There are many ways to practice consent. Below are 4 pillars to help you practice consent in your own unique contexts:

1) Capacity 

Capacity is about how able you are to both give and receive consent. How much ability do you have to describe exactly how you feel and make decisions that are right for you? And how much ability do you have to listen to the feelings and decisions of others? Slow down, pause, and check in with yourself and others on how you are really feeling, emotionally, physically, and mentally.

If someone’s capacity is lowered in some way, there’s more risk of a consent violation, so try and find out if there’s anything you can do to help boost each other’s capacity. The mnemonic H.A.L.T.S. can be helpful to check in on some important aspects of capacity - Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired, Sad/Sick/Stressed out.

Recognize that alcohol and other substances can lower your capacity a lot, if not entirely - if someone is unconscious, unable to remember what’s happening, or otherwise incapacitated, then the risk of consent violations is essentially guaranteed for most activities, but especially intense ones like driving or sex. People who are incapacitated need help to prevent harm occurring, so try to give the care they need, even as a bystander.

2) Information

Informed consent is about knowing and understanding exactly what you’re being asked to consent to. Is everyone answering questions honestly? Is everyone sharing and being open with the information they have? Does everyone understand what the words being used actually mean? Going through the “who, what, where, when, why, and how” is a good way to gather information. Pay special attention to the ‘what’, ‘why’, and ‘how’. For example, what does ‘hanging out’ mean? What exactly is a ‘date’? What does ‘having sex’ mean? Why do you want to do this activity, and with this person? What are the risks involved and how are you going to address them? The more you share and check for understanding, the less risk there will be of consent violation.

Being clear about what you're asking for is super important if you want to avoid misunderstandings and unintentional consent violations. And if someone asks you to do something, and you're not sure exactly what they mean or want, ask for clarification. You don't have to agree to something you don't fully understand.

 3) Agreement or Boundary Setting

​Once you have checked in on capacity and shared the information you need, the next step in the ongoing process of consent includes asking questions, making agreements, and setting boundaries. Being explicit is the least risky way to make an ask and set an agreement or boundary. Being explicit means being as clear and specific as possible. This includes:

Saying the words! Accurately describe the activity, how you feel about it, and if relevant, name the body parts involved. If it’s too difficult for you to say out loud, it’s too risky to do!

Setting time limits: Maybe you want to try something for a certain amount of time, or maybe you only have enough capacity for a limited amount of time. Setting a time limit is a good way to combine agreements and boundaries. For example, you might say, “I’m willing to try this, but if I don’t like it after 5 minutes, I want to stop.”

Some people say consensual agreements should be enthusiastic - enthusiasm is great, but sometimes people can seem enthusiastic when they’re actually nervous or scared. Judging someone’s body language can give you helpful information, but always ask how someone is feeling rather than assume. The way someone’s body is responding is not always representative of how they feel.

Again, agreement and boundary setting is part of an ongoing process. Take lots of breaks to check in on sensations specifically - how does your stomach feel? Is it tense or relaxed? Are your hands and feet warm or cold? How is your heart rate? Do you need a bathroom break? Asking questions like this gives someone the chance to figure out how they’re feeling by letting their mind and body catch up to each other. It also lets that person know you care about them as a whole person, and you understand that sometimes what we imagine something will feel like isn’t always the reality.

Remember that just because someone said ‘yes’ to something before, they don’t have to say ‘yes’ again. And if someone changes their mind in the middle of an activity - that’s ok! Stop and ask if there’s something else they’d rather do. Give people lots of time and space to answer honestly. Lastly, remind people often that saying ‘no’ is ok. It’s easy to forget, especially if we don’t feel powerful in a situation, or get overwhelmed by sensations.

4) Autonomy

Autonomy is why we practice consent at all. Autonomy is everyone’s inherent right to decide what’s best for their own body, mind, spirit, and story. If anyone wants to do something that involves other people’s bodies, minds, spirits, or stories, they have a responsibility to communicate and help create the feeling of consent between everyone involved. If they don’t, everyone gets to decide for themselves if they feel a consent violation has happened to them (this is when your boundaries have been crossed and you feel harmed). We all violate consent at some point, even if unintentionally, so we should practice taking accountability for our actions, as we would want others to do.  Accountability can be difficult but respecting someone’s ‘no’ is one of the easiest ways to honor autonomy. Don’t try to convince people to change their mind. Making someone feel afraid or unable to say ‘no’ is coercion, and a guaranteed way to violate consent. Also recognize that the absence of a ‘no’ is not a ‘yes’. Don’t assume that the way someone is dressed or behaving means they really want to say ‘yes’. Just don’t assume - it’s way too risky. Ask questions, listen carefully, and respect how people respond. Despite how complicated things can get, practicing consent can also be this simple.

[oikarma]

left my message!

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

summary: you’ve heard about the legend but you’re not quite prepared to meet him in real life.

a/n: first part is like a smau companion i guess? but this is the actual interaction which makes the twt posts make more sense!! 

part one / two

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

two days ago

you still can’t believe it. the paddock pass is smooth under your hands, so smooth it might just slip out and away. you’ve never been so close before, despite having watched many of the races on a grainy screen or far, far up into the grandstands. it didn’t make sense, really. when you were younger, your mother disapproved of flouncing around just to go to a racetrack—she certainly wouldn’t accompany you, with the engines roaring past, when your music on 70% volume was already deafening to her. but now, early decisions had come out, very much in your favor. mother was pleased, and that left you to go wherever you wished over easter.

so you’re here, standing in the ferrari paddock. it’s a gift on both guanyu and your brother’s part, flying you out at last minute’s notice when charles’s surgery was confirmed. an extremely generous gift you’re not sure you can repay anytime soon. it makes you feel a bit guilty, until you see how happy both of them are to see you. with college applications, you haven’t had much time to facetime your brother—he was overseas working—and the same went for guanyu. late family reunion, you decide. 

lando walks pass the ferrari garage and waves at you. it turned out you had rooms on the same floor after bumping into each other in the elevator. it wasn’t the first time you’d met him: you’d been present at a few of his karting competitions when you were younger. you weren’t “friends,” you’d argue, but you’d talked enough to be good acquaintances. he was also a familiar face in the uk. that is, before he moved to monaco. 

you grin at lando and turn back to guanyu, inside the garage. he’s trembling, even though his smile is wide and back is straight. charles has done well this season, and lewis is in the other seat. of course he would be nervous. you still remember how he sobbed when sauber released the news. formula one was the pinnacle of motorsports. being there was an achievement in itself, anyone knew. but when you were constantly outperformed by other drivers in other cars, it was hard to keep track of the fact.

you place a hand on his arm. “hey, you good?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” he reaches out for a one-handed hug. “glad to see you here. just a bit different from last year.”

“hey, come on. this is for everyone here for you. seeing you race is enough.”

zhou massages his temple. “what if it’s not? i don’t want to disappoint them again.”

“you won’t. your practice times are great! and if people think they do, they should try driving themselves.” you squeeze his hand. “where’s my brother? let him talk some sense into you.”

to that, he laughs. “oh, he did. told me that i should be happy i get the opportunity to drive and i think he’s right.”

you wince. sounds a bit harsh, but you know your brother means well.

“yeah, he usually is. probably a bit salty that he’s not a driver, too. but g’luck out there, okay? don’t crash.”

“i’ll try.” 

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

one day ago

once the sprint is over, you can tell a weight has been lifted off his back. fourth is great. fourth is amazing. max leads in first, lewis in second, lando in third, and guanyu in fourth. it’s not a shabby place in a lineup like that. points have been scored for ferrari and everyone is all smiles when they come to congratulate him.

lewis pats him on the back. “good to see you out there, zhou.”

“thanks. nice work today.” his data analyst taps him on the shoulder and guanyu is being led away. he waves goodbye at you.

the brit turns to you and offers a hand. “hamilton, lewis hamilton. i don’t think i’ve seen you around before.”

lewis! hamilton! is shaking your hand! meeting lando is less crazy because you’ve seen mini him stumbling off the track. but this is seven-time world champion, sir lewis hamilton. his braids are sleek and he’s perfectly polished: glowing, even. it should be illegal to stand around in a half-zipped race suit.

you shake his hand, making sure your grip is strong because your father said that’s the way to make an impression. “i’m yn. i’m guanyu’s friend.”

“oh, i see. you watch racing, much? i suppose you do.”

“yeah. he got me into it and i never stopped.”

lewis gives you a coy smile. “tell me, who’s your favorite driver?” he leans against one of the floating tables.

“i hate to break it to you, but it’s max.” 

his eyes widen dramatically. he teases, “oh dear, we’re starting off on the wrong foot already.”

“if it makes you feel any better, i meant current driver.”

“okay, okay. no restrictions. favorite driver of all time?”

“kimi.” 

he raises a thoughtful eyebrow. “you seem to have a type.”

“so who’s yours?” and you want to hit yourself right there because you just asked lewis hamilton who his favorite driver is. stupid, stupid, stupid. it’s probably senna. he’s too polite to say himself and you think you’ve heard that somewhere before.

“senna.”

bingo! quite the genius, you are. it’s hard to think around him, so that’s practically twice the achievement.

lewis sees your smile and asks, “why, do i have something on my face?”

“oh, no. i was thinking.”

“...about? nevermind, i won’t pry. tell me, yn, what else do you like to do?”

how conversational. if he does this one more time you might be convinced you’re friends. he’s probably just bored. 

“sorry, excuse me?” you see a couple of fans outside the garage. the pit lane tour guide is surprised to see lewis still there. “could we get a few photos, please?”

lewis turns to you, surprisingly apologetic. “see you around?”

“alright.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

(a/n: 1st of the convo is post-meeting lewis & 2nd part is post-gp)

[btskitty17]

The Yandere Doll Walks Free at Christmas 🪽 pt. 1

(Jungkook X Reader Series)

Pt. 1 :Wishlist

"I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?” She really had had been too much of a good girl. But the last thing that she had expected was to actually end on the top of the Nice list on Christmas Eve and get exactly what she had asked for…or not. As she grows increasingly fond of his pattering presence in the background, she begins to ponder whether a present from Santa Claus is supposed to possess such a darkly dominant disposition, which only begins to expose itself bit by bit.

main masterlist

genre: slight humour, dark fantasy au ୨୧

🪽 ongoing (10-ish parts of 1-2k words throughout December 🎅🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡❆⛄)

warnings: jungkook x fem! reader (insert any name of your choice), yandere behaviour displayed by the male main character: possessive, controlling + clingy tendencies, eventual smut, seemingly chaste fantasy with a sinister twist

🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧

Even though ___ was swamped with work, she could not ignore that the air was scented with festivity.

The final rendition of her non-fiction manuscript was due right after the holidays, and it was the promise of a publishing deal from a prestigious academic think-tank that propelled her to work throughout her Christmas break and only see her family and friends at dinner parties. Her book was framed as a commentary on contemporary socio-political subcultures and consisted of the findings from her research work which spanned over four years. Was she going to be the next Joan Didion? Or perhaps, a likeness of Susan Sontag? Who’s to say, but she surely liked fantasising along these lines.

As snow settled on the windowpanes of her house and Christmas pop songs drifted from her neighbour’s balcony, ___ made herself a cozy setup with multiple blankets, and continued typing away at her laptop, occasionally sipping from her reindeer-themed coffee mug. Ever the workaholic, ___ was going to spend Christmas Eve shut into her apartment, and obsessively read and reread her research proposal, check the index sheet associated with her project and the revise statistics that she had painstakingly put together. Despite her best efforts, she could not find a flaw. And yet, it was too early to call it a night, so she scrolled through her social media as a Hallmark movie calmly played on her flatscreen, tapping hearts on the array of photographs of her friends’ holiday nighttime rituals of eggnog-drinking, reels of their party tricks, exorbitant decorations and their recent vacations to Cabo, to Mallorca and other seemingly exotic destinations, ___ could not bring herself to envy her friends’ international getaways: she was just far too busy to break free from her routine.

___ knew she that wanted more from life than just grading papers as a teaching assistant while working on her PhD; there was a certain kind of solace that a classroom full of sulky nineteen-year-olds in an eight-thirty morning lecture was not going to grant her so she started volunteering at a children’s shelter earlier in the year and as days went by, they looked forward to her interacting with them, helping them with their homework, bringing them crayons, stickers, and at times takeaway junk food, which brought the kids joy and her, some much needed contentment. She had assisted the children in adorning their Christmas trees with candy canes, giant toffees,  miniature bells, Santa Claus masks and faux snow-streaks and even joined in on the custom of writing a letter to Santa along with them; despite feeling a bit silly, and upon being assured that no one was going to read hers, she scribbled that she hoped to have a boyfriend and stuffed it hastily in the red-and-white striped, cartoonish post-box located in the party-room of the children’s home.

 ___’s apartment had been scrubbed clean with the utmost attention-to-detail and she had draped decorative red and green lights around the windowpanes. The Christmas tree standing tall in her living room, gleamed with trinkets like golden and silver baubles, clusters of ribbons, and large red bows; her favourite ornament was the decade-old mini-Edward Cullen figurine, a memento of her teenaged Twilight obsession, peeking from the canopy of the tree. She could be merry after all, despite everything on her to-do list. After a dinner of soup and butter-garlic sticks, __ drifted off to sleep nestled by her soft-pink quilt as Christmas carols wafted in the distance. 

The morning of Christmas was bitingly cold, catalysed by fresh snowfall; ___ shuddered upon waking up, as she pulled a woollen cardigan over her torso and decided that a mug of spiced coffee ought to be the perfect to start to her holiday and headed towards the kitchen.

The sight of her Christmas tree brought ___’s feet to an abrupt halt as an involuntary gasp left her lips. A giant box awaited her in the living room. “Doll,” the label on it seemed to say simply. A man, around her own age, seemed to be enclosed within it, staring at her, with an uncanny, unblinking gaze, ___ wanted to shriek and scream; there was a peculiar present in her living room, and a man she had never seen before, tied up all pretty with ribbons, delivered inside a cardboard gift box nonetheless, but she could not bring herself to either move or scream; ___  felt as if she could be dreaming, given that there was a handsome yet creepy being standing beneath the golden star placed atop her Christmas tree. Who was he and why was he in a box? And who let him have such a graceful, neat entrance into her house?

“What?” ___ finally managed to squeak out.

“It is your delivery from Santa Isle… I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?” The man inside the box spoke up at last, sensing her disbelief.

“I did not order anything… Wait, wait, how did you get in?”

“There is an elaborate process that is followed; the gift delivery services of Santa Isle possess absolute accuracy and we have our own undisclosable ways of reaching the destination, which in this case, was your residence. I am certain an order has been placed for a boyfriend; I am meant for you, otherwise I never would have been sent to this part of the world.” his way of speaking was extremely lucid though his voice was a low droll of molten honey.

___ racked her brain to recollect when could she have possibly filled a form for a present like this and thought about the possibility of an ethereal landscape called Santa Isle, and the way this doll-box was magically inserted under her Christmas tree. She soon began to question her sanity.

“Not everyone is privileged to receive exactly what they have mentioned on the form… There are mechanisms through which we monitor’s the applicants’ good deeds, and you, have been awarded the top spot in your province; I have skimmed your file, it said that you have dedicated this year to children’s welfare endeavours, thereby creating a rightful place for yourself on the Nice list and thus, deserving of anything that you wish for on Christmas.”

“You all are collecting my data without my knowledge?”

“Isn’t everyone?” he snickered; his face came into focus after her initial haze of perplexity....

The so-called doll was clad rather gentlemanly in an immaculate two-piece tuxedo; his wide doe-eyed gaze and arched eyebrows made him seem perpetually amused at something and his facial features, albeit innocent, wore the armour of a mature expression, like a baby cosplaying a warrior; her questions remained unanswered despite the fact that he was so sure of the legitimacy of his presence in a gift-box under her Christmas tree.

“I realise that you might be bewildered but you were the only applicant who requested a human relationship… you wrote down that you desired to have a boyfriend, a wish that would now be fulfilled by me, a Santa Isle worker; the other people at the children’s shelter had wished for video games, comic book-sets, and so on…” he attempted to explain, observing the confused scowl cemented on her face. It was Christmas after all, she should not be frowning.

“Are you implying that the post-box at the children’s shelter named Little Smiles possesses a direct portal to Santa’s Isle? What are you even talking about… how is any of this real?”

“I can understand your disbelief but, there are many realms in this world that you might be unaware of. We have a radar that monitors needy children’s wish-lists and we leave them anonymous packages with the items that they have wished for around Christmas every year…Contrary to popular belief, there is a Santa and he is hard at work… you happened to insert your own list along with the children, and we here, at Santa Isle, fulfil each and every wish that we come across.”

“What do you mean? Is Santa your boss? I am having a hard time believing that I am not the centre of a prank-based reality television show…and even more shocked by your ability to get into the house…How did that happen? Another one of Santa’s miracles?”

“I am not a criminal, if that is what you are thinking. Could you please unbox me? That plate of cookies looks ever so delicious and I have been waiting for you to wake up since midnight so…”

___ stepped forward furtively, eyeing the doll-man, man-doll, overgrown doll? What was he, an adult toy? Wait that sounds wrong, ___ thought.

___ extended her hand to unfurl the pink ribbon garlanded around the giant, transparent toybox as he looked on with anticipatory eyes; as soon as the ribbon was undone, he began to step outside the box: turns out that the unboxing was a mere ceremonious activity, he could have been outside this whole time if he wanted to, but it was the recipient’s right to unwrap the present on Christmas morning.

“Jungkook Jeon.”

“Um?”

“My name is Jungkook and I am assigned to be your boyfriend. But there are some activities that have been listed on my agenda that have to be conducted with you before you can bestow that title on me,” Jungkook stated in the most placid of tones, as if he was there to carry out the simplest of tasks: doorstep boyfriend.

“What sort of activities are you insinuating? Listen I will ring up the apartment building’s security right now if you pull something funny, I swear I do not look like it but I am capable of kicking you back to --,” ___ rambled in an exasperated state, even more confused now.

“Activities like going to dinner and playing recreational games! Why are you suspecting me and threatening me with violence with each and every step that I take?” Jungkook’s voice was now raised a bit, flustered by this impossible customer, who was putting his reputation as the Santa Isle worker with the most golden stars (a token of appreciation) for his service-delivery, at risk.

___ scanned Jungkook from head to toe; he was glorious in his formal wear whilst she was yelling at him with a mismatched set of a tank top and floofy pyjamas on, secured by an ancient, lint-laden fraying cardigan: a clothing article that she only kept because of its sentimental value as it not did not do much to keep her warm, rendering her a quivering, blathering mess. Jungkook’s ocean-wide eyes were fastened on her being, watching out for further explosive reactions but he had worn her down, the girl just wanted her morning cup of coffee; she was tired of overanalysing the situation and questioning the existence of Santa Claus’ secret city. Or was it a factory? She will have to ask Jungkook.

Jungkook was not average-looking by any means; he was a doll, that was for certain, ___ she thought. The structure of his body was burly, his fairly large built was evident as he loomed several inches above her; ___ was surprised by his ability to fit into the box that now lay opened on the floor. His crisp white shirt clung to his well-formed biceps and broad shoulders, a contrast to the fabric cinched around his narrow, narrow waist. Nevertheless, this beautiful being was practically an alien for her.

“You are shivering,” Jungkook spread out his arms and drew ___ into his unexpected embrace.

“What are you doing?” ___’s twitching and thrashing was no match for Jungkook’s athletic arms.

“I would be a failure as a boyfriend if I let you shake like a leaf in the wind on my very first day here," Jungkook spoke with a gentle pout.

___ could feel Jungkook’s gaze cutting into her, as he enfolded her in the tightest hug he could possibly dole out.  ___ discerned the rhythmic thrum of his heart with her back against his strong chest and her senses were clouded by his scent, which was a concoction of dark chocolate and musk, a combination that she found brought her an immense and indescribable oceanic calm, as if all her anxieties were rolling into the sea-waves and away into a sunset; all her defences against him seemed to momentarily collapse. He was humming a pop-duet which was currently deemed a chartbuster, and his way of singing made it sound like a tranquil lullaby; his enormous palms were running circles around ___’s nearly bare shoulders as her cardigan slipped from her frame. Jungkook bore the warmth of a fireplace, it seemed, ___ could no longer tell that it was even snowing outside.  

___ was almost lulled to sleep, when she felt Jungkook lower his face and let his soft lips wander to nape of her neck: an action which broke the trance she was in and made her eyes snap open as she jerked her face away from Jungkook with indignance burning within her irises; this was inappropriate.

“How dare you? You are not my boyfriend!” she bellowed.

Jungkook was staggered by ___’s sudden shouting, and her denial of the very label which defines him at the moment: boyfriend, she was his, rightfully so; a pitch-black look overcame his otherwise innocent features, and the formal yet genial smile that he had been wearing till now also dissipated, leaving behind a cold stare which had now claimed ___ as its victim.

To be continued ⊹

(will update my main masterlist with newer parts as i write, thank you for reading 🎀)

DISCLAIMER  This is a work of fanfiction with the BTS members as characters; I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment.

© @btskitty17 on tumblr 2024

~ ୨୧ ♡ · ₊

[shaadowmilkcookie]

doodle to keep me going.. i miss them… primotalii (oc) likes just dance bc he likes moving around!!! shadow milk likes mario party because he likes to hurt people.

playing a game of cards with either of them is probably horrifying….. spiritual near death experience. primotalii unintentionally has a really good poker face bc be locks the fuck in so hard his face barely twitches 😭

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[born-to-lose]

I GOT AN INTERNSHIP YEEHAW

[hundredowls]

life draw compilation from the past few weeks :)) 10-20min poses

[23z567]

[gingerbreadmonsters]

sleepy and v fed up w this blasted reading for japanese history class tomorrow. give me 45 minutes to finish this article and i will be back to talk about kissing or something

[oldpotatoe]

Oops i slipped and fell and read flwogb for the thousandth time :)))) praying to the Gods for more <3 no pressure <3

buddy you should get that checked out [ba dum tiss]

no but in all seriousness. i am 7 months into a career that pretty much consumes most hours of my working day, and on weekends i slump in bed and watch netflix because i am turning into an old hermit-- no wait, an old potato

ye gods i am living up to my username in the worst possible way

anyway i wish i could say that i can see things changing but frankly my workload only increases with every new day :( but i'm getting a severe writing itch that will end up being scratched at some point soon [she says through gritted teeth as she gets yet another notification on her work phone, resisting the urge to hurl it into the wall]

[numetalkids]

*inhales*.....................DEEP SIGH

[tapucocoafgc]

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and for those who don't or can't, happy Monday, hope it's a good one

This season's been a bit of a rough one for me because reasons but we have more holiday curry planned tonight and I have plans to actually try and get my shit together in the future so that helps I think

[teenagefeeling]

im reading a rly long environmental history book about the bering strait for school rn and i gotta say. this place is a little wild

[thatsuncleharrytoyouyoungman]

idk myb im wromg but i feel like the more the user base ages the more if you're 14 trust me it doesn't get worse than that if you're in ur 20s ur life sucks it doesn't get better till 30s etc posts there are n yh on one hand it's supposed to be 'positive' n 'reassuring' but on the other hand it's like can u not? can u just hush n let ppl live whatever stage of their life they're living without ur optimisticly disguised pessimistic sentiments

[1roentgen]

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