Kiss It Better | Jjk

kiss it better | jjk

~ COMMISSION FOR @cinnaminsvga​​ ~

✩ — pairing: jungkook x reader ✩ — genre: college/uni au, smut, cheerleader!jk, pining, borderline crack ✩ — words: 11.7k ✩ — rating: 18+ ✩ — warnings: koo takes a tumble, explicit sexual content; clothed sex, unprotected sex (not recommended), creampie, handjobs,light subby!jk, hand-holding during sex (potent), whining, thigh-riding, vaginal sex, minor hair pulling, public sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light dirty talk ✩ — notes: out later than intended and a bit longer than intended !! whoops!!! i won’t/don’t charge if i go over the commissioned amount becayse that’s my bad!! but yeah. its been a hot second since i last wrote smut!! also none of my friends were awake to proofread this so….. apologies if it’s shit and has typos! its 2am! pls enjoy and lmk whast u think!!

When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

masterlist | — posted; 01.03.2020

TUESDAY, SEMESTER 2 WEEK FOUR

It’s a beautiful day, the sun has just come to peak out from behind the clouds that had earlier obscured its climb from the horizon, and the grass of the Biological Sciences Library courtyard glistens with raindrops left over from the brief shower that prefaced the sun’s belated appearance. Students are finally beginning to emerge from the safety of the undercover walkways and overhangs, venturing boldly to shortcut over the grass. University life resumes, and everything falls back into its place, all as usual.

“Yah, is that Jungkook? Wait what is he—”

Well, everything except for one thing.

A red and black-clad figure slams to a stop right where two students are sitting and minding their own business outside the café attached to the back of the library—there’s no time to say hello. The table rocks dangerously on its beaten, metal leg, the impact of Jungkook’s beeline almost sending it straight to the ground if the two others weren’t already seated there to catch it.

“OW!” Jimin is never one to be quiet in his complaints, all too happy to holler his outrage at the top of his lungs. As his oldest hyung would say, no attention is bad attention. “Hey you almost jammed my fingers!”

Startled as Taehyung might have been, his focus is quickly shifted to other things. His wide eyes scan Jungkook’s panting form, taking in the clothes clinging to him like a second skin and the beet red colour of his face and ears. It’s not hard to put two and two together, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t exactly the most pressing thing he wants to ask, “Jungkook, why are you wearing the female cheer leading uniform I gave you?”

There’s a somewhat crazed look that makes itself known in the youngest’s eyes. “AHA!” he throws a finger in Taehyungs face, accusing. “So you ADMIT it’s a female uniform! Taehyung, you ass, how could you!”

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i was wondering how bad influence! jk and oc started interacting? like what made them start talking

[ ! ] this dabble is a prequel to “bad influence”

— words; 1.6k

~

Your professor was looking at you with expectation, the small piece of paper hanging between his fingers like the sword of Damocles over your head. You were staring at him in silence for a few seconds now, and the whole situation was starting to get awkward. 

“So,” he pressed on, dangling the paper in front of your eyes. On it, the name and phone number of one of your classmates. “What do you say?” 

When he asked you to stay after class, you expected it would be something related to tutoring. Your professor had mentioned it in passing a few times before, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise when he told you he had found you someone who really needed your assistance. You were beaming with joy for precisely a minute and twenty one seconds until he revealed the name of your student. 

Jeon Jungkook. 

Before you had any chance to muster an excuse for why you couldn’t — under any circumstance — get close to someone like that, even less tutor him, your professor already had his card up his sleeve. “It’ll be good for your curriculum.” 

And you said yes in a heartbeat. 

~

Jungkook was predictable. You knew that he would be late (after all, his cringy bad boy persona would never allow him to follow one single rule in his life), you just didn’t know it would be almost two-hours-late. By the point that you saw that hurricane in human form walking into the library, you had already finished your homework for the entire week. 

He had the nerve to smirk at you, and you swore an oath to yourself that you wouldn’t present him with the irritation he was expecting. And you didn’t — with all the patience and kind-heartedness that your parents had pushed down your throat your entire life, you put on your best commercial smile and greeted him like he was just in time. 

“Well, now that you’re here, let’s start with the basics and go over some defense cells.” You tugged the heavy Immunology book towards you, quickly flipping the pages towards the chapter that you had chosen for that first session. Jungkook had already taken his typical slouched position on the chair next to you, looking like he was about to slide down to the carpeted floor. “I’d like to know how familiar you are with it, though. Can you start by telling me about the types of lymphocytes?” 

He chuckled, running one hand through his hair. “I have no idea what that shit is.”

You took a deep breath and ignored the irritation that was building up on your stomach. You didn’t know how someone could be so indifferent about everything. “Well... that’s why I’m here,” you managed to keep your voice cheerful. 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re here because you wanna get paid, princess. No need to play the Good Samaritan.”

You thought about telling him that you weren’t getting paid, but the idea wasn’t the best one. He’d probably mock you even more for wasting your Friday afternoon tutoring in the name of your curriculum. Not that he knew the importance of that, anyways. 

“This is some bullshit.” Jungkook rested his head on his crossed arms, lying over the table, pushing away your pens and notebooks as he did so. His black hair fell over his features as he grouchily mumbled out, “I don’t even know why I chose this class, it has nothing to do with my major.”

You were surprised that he was even majoring in something, instead of just frequenting the campus as an excuse to meet girls. “Well, I can't answer that for you, can I?” You asked, tapping on his book’s hardcover. That little antibody drawing was staring at you in a silent mockery, wondering if you’d be able to make him study — or even care about anything. “But I can help you with the rest. Now, come on. Types of lymphocytes.”

His eyebrows came down to form a confused frown. Jungkook would’ve probably given you the same reaction if you had just called his mother all the filthy names you could think of. “You’re really trying to teach me?” He asked. “Like, for real?” 

You sighed. The time you taught your little cousin how to read was less frustrating than that. “It’s kind of my job as a tutor, you know.”

Jungkook rose from his position and leaned back against the chair, his arms crossing before his chest. Beneath them, his strong pecs stressed against the fabric of his white shirt, but you refused to look. “You know that you can just pretend to teach me, I can pretend to learn, and you’re gonna get your credits anyways, right?” He asked as if you were the stupidest person he had ever met. “You don’t need to actually put in the effort, princess. Especially since I don’t give any fucks about immunology.” 

If he called you that stupid pet name one more time, you swore you were going to knock him out. “Well, I’m already here, I’d rather do things right.”

He scoffed, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes. “God, you’re so booooring,” he groaned. “Don't you have some charity work to do or something?” 

“I’m doing it right now.” You smiled. “I can see that you’re really trying to fail this class, don’t get me wrong. But I’m just trying to do my job—“

“Boooooring,” he sang, louder than the librarian would ever allow if she was close enough to hear him. Jungkook looked back at you, his eyes narrowed. You couldn’t really tell if he was disgusted or just annoyed. “Why do you even care? It’s just some stupid class, it doesn’t even matter. I’ll tell the professor you taught me everything and we can both go home.” 

“I can’t do that,” you said, firm. 

“Why not?” 

“First of all, because that’s wrong,” you told him. Just as you were about to say that, also, his unavoidable horrible grades would make clear that he hadn’t learned shit (which would make you look like a clown instead of a tutor), his laugh ruptured your sentence. 

“Oh, come on. You’re kidding me.” He smiled brightly — not a tender one, of course, but one full of perverse mockery. You had never met someone as condescending as Jungkook, and he was managing to push every single button inside you. “That’s wrong? What are you, six?” 

You frowned. “You’re the child here, just trying to find a easy way out instead of putting in the eff—“ 

“What are your dreams, princess?” He interrupted again, leaning his head to the side. You really, really, really hated him. “Wait, no, let me guess. A family, a suburban house, and a dog? A nine to five? Something like that? Having your husband cheat with the babysitter before you’re forty?”

Some part of you knew that he was just trying to make you so angry that you would give up on tutoring him. Jungkook didn’t know that you wouldn’t throw away your obligations so quickly, but he was able to make you mad enough to get an answer. “What are yours?” you spat, kindness long forgotten. “Remaining unemployed, talentless, mentally trapped in your twenties, and fucking desperate milfs for money until you die from an early overdose?” 

If your priest had heard you talk like that, he would most surely faint. 

Jungkook, however, didn’t seem so horrified. In fact, his disgusted smile quickly morphed into a diverted one, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Uh,” he mumbled. “Interesting.”

The shame from your previous outburst was starting to weigh down on you, but you managed to keep it undercover. “What?” 

“Didn’t know you had a mouth on you,” he said, clearly entertained. In a way, you were glad that he hadn’t taken your words to heart, because he could probably snap you in half if he was feeling like it. “You’re always so shy and shit. I thought you were going to cry.” 

“I’m not shy,” you spoke, defensive. You had gotten close to shedding a couple tears, but he didn’t need to know that. You hated confrontation. “I just don’t wanna talk to people like you unless I’m obligated to.” 

He raised his eyebrows — a silent threat. “People like me?”

There was a second of hesitation from your part that Jungkook didn’t miss. “Yes.” You couldn’t hold his piercing gaze. As much as Jungkook was annoying the shit out of you, you didn’t actually want to have a full-blown argument with him. Especially on university grounds. “People who can’t even tell me about lymphocytes. Now, are you done with your victimization session? Can we start, or do you wanna tell me more about how you’re burning college money and you are so superior because of it?” 

He chuckled and looked you up and down — actually looked at you. Weirdly enough, it felt like the first time that Jungkook was actually seeing you, and not the empty shell of a stereotype that he had built for you in his peanut-sized brain. “You’re really trying here, aren’t you?” He asked. 

You didn’t know if he was talking about the tutoring session anymore, but you decided not to bite. “Is that a sin now?” And, before he could say anything else, you added, “Page 124. Come on. Unlike you, I don’t have all day to sit around doing nothing.” 

He smirked. “You’re more fun than you look, princess.” 

And, for the first time, Jeon Jungkook wasn’t predictable — he actually opened the book on the page you told him to. 

~

One hour later, he was already dozing off, a small puddle of saliva accumulating on top of his chaotic notes. Still, you counted that as a victory. 

~

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

｡°❀ 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Steve Rogers x feral!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | feral behaviour/feral!reader, size difference, 6’6” Steve, touch starved!reader, fluff, manhandling, SMUT - minors DNI, size kink, unprotected sex, cumplay, specific warnings in each part.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | The man out of time meets a woman out of touch.

♫ ·ﾟ𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝗧𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗪/𝗖 | 17.4K

𝗔/𝗡 | This is a role reversal of my Tarzan!Steve au 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, stemmed from this What If…? and is another mini series with a blurb/drabble sandbox. I can't wait to explore this au with you all !! Thank you so much for your support <3 No gifs/photos belong to me, found bottom ones on Pinterest [1 | 2 | 3] all credits go to the original creators. Title from/inspired by Third Eye by Florence + The Machine. [*=smut] ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

Feel free to send blurb requests or asks about this series!

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: (2/5)

1/5

2/5

PSA: this story is not discontinued, I’m currently working on other fics at the moment, please don’t ask when it will be updated, I’ll let you all know when I have a date !!

3/5*

4/5*

5/5

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝

Alternative soft!DARK Version*

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒/𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒: (& fave drabbles)

The Adventures of Bambi and Little Bambi

Roomba Rooba Friend

Stevie’s Cream* 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

thunderstorms | fireworks | thunderstorms ft. animal friends

Bambi getting softness

Bambi loves pockets

wet dream*

shaving cream

“Sharing” clothes

Steve gets back from a mission*

date nights

bambi and thumper (chunky boy) | adopting Thumper

nightmare

Bambi’s first egg hunt | rocks & steve the candy thief

trying to make Steve jealous and failing

halloween is on a specific day

𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘: tags

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬: #third eye drabble

Discussions/Drabbles: thots | fluff | dark | angst

all asks | ideas | art | videos/tiktoks | spicy videos

?? | About

Characters: steve | bambi | dark!bambi

cream club | thumper fan club

Friendship goals: bucky | natasha | tony | wanda

Setting: Forest

Slow Mo Tiger Go - Fiona Bevan

Hide and Seek

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Heavy breaths left your lips as your lungs began to burn, begging you to stop running. But doing so will surely get you caught.

The city around you is completely destroyed, but you spot what once was a cafe shop in the distance.

Ignoring the strain on your muscles, you push yourself harder and sprint towards your hiding spot.

“Fuck.” A gasp leaves your lips as you can finally take a moment to calm your racing heart.

Why is she doing this to you?

The doorbell above the door rings, making your blood run cold.

“My love? Please stop running.” The woman covered in blood pleads as she looks around the shop.

You freeze behind the counter, praying to any higher power that she doesn’t find you.

“I know you’re in here Y/n. There’s no point in hiding.”

Counting to 10 in your head, you slowly stand up knowing she’s right.

You cant run from her.

You’ve tried and tried. Each time failing.

“W-who are you?” You shakily ask her, still freaked out by her glowing hands and clothes drenched in blood.

“My name is Wanda and i’m your wife.” She smiled at you with love in her eyes.

“I don’t have a wife.” You told her.

She laughed. “Maybe not in this universe, but in mine you are.” Wanda took a step closer to you while you took a step back.

“Just stop running and come with me Y/n. We can look for the kids together.”

“Kids?” You gasped out in shock.

“Billy and Tommy. Our kids.” Wanda grinned at the thought of being so close to reuniting her family.

“Wanda, stop this madness. I’m not from your world, I don’t have a wife, and I don’t have kids.” You begged her, still hoping this is all a nightmare.

Suddenly her smile dropped and her eyes began glowing. Her head tilted to the side as she stared you down.

“You’re mine. I belong to you and you belong to me. What don’t you understand.” An accent began slipping out while she talked and trapped you between the wall.

Her darkened fingers made their way around your neck as red wisp controlled your hands and placed them on around her waist.

You gulped as the fear was slowly leaving your body and being replaced with happiness.

There was a gentle glow around your head as she secretly removed all the bad memories and replaced them with happy ones. Ones where she and the boys existed. Memories of a life that was but at the same time wasn’t yours.

You opened you eyes and greeted your wife with a kiss.

“My love.” You smiled at her and hugged her tighter.

Wanda’s eyes stopped glowing and were now filled with tears.

She finally had her wife back.

Rough Day (The Mandalorian x Reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: When you woke up this morning, you didn’t really think it would be a “fixing Mando’s knife wound and then giving him a handjob” kind of day today but hey, who knew that agreeing to babysit a bounty hunter’s weird, green little child would be so full of surprises.

Warnings: Smut, language, handjobs (duh), dirty talk, Pedro Pascal (deserves his own warning), mentions of blood, spoilers for the Mandalorian.

Maker, why is this even a thing?

You don’t know his name.  You’ve never seen his face.  He barely says a word, doesn’t even move much unless he needs to.  If he didn’t have such an obvious complex about droids, you would’ve thought he could be one himself, quietly forged and hidden beneath gleaming beskar armor for an untold number of years.  You know practically nothing about him other than the few things you’ve heard about his culture—most likely either grossly exaggerated or just flat out nonsense.  Everything about him is an enigma, even down to the vaguely impersonal things, such as the technical name for his “poof gun” or what insane percentage of his body weight metal has to account for.

But that doesn’t stop you.  Nope, the fact that you’ve never even seen a strip of his skin doesn’t stop you from nursing a stupid, helpless crush on the quiet bounty hunter.  Stars, it’s ridiculous.  The modulated, low baritone, the intimidating way he carries himself, so stoic and dark and foreboding and tall—

He terrifies you.  You’re absolutely terrified of bothering him, of being too forward or inquisitive.  You sit in the cockpit with him for hours in dead silence, kid perched on your lap in the copilot’s seat to keep him from touching anything, hypnotized by the way his helmet subtly reflects the streaks of hyperspace as they race by and thinking about all the impossible things you want to know but can never ask about.  The last thing you want to do is accidentally test his patience, possibly get marooned on some backwater planet somewhere because you just couldn’t accept something so beautifully mysterious for what it is.

So you ultimately strive to be almost as quiet as he is, always helpful but never in the way.  You troubleshoot mechanical issues with the vessel when they make themselves known, take the baby in one of the secluded areas of the hull and play peekaboo for a bit when he gets too fussy, or just pick up a rag and start cleaning when there’s nothing else to occupy your time.  You sleep occasionally, curling up on the floor of the hull with a blanket to avoid taking up too much space, living out of your suitcase and making a generous ten percent of his commissions just by copiloting and keeping watch over the child while he works.  With the strict schedule he keeps, your pay is always handsome and consistent, even if it is all a bit boring.

Watching him wrestle his bounties into carbonite is admittedly the most exciting part for you, the rest of your days filled with nothing but the interior of the vessel as it either travels through hyperspace or sits stationary on a planet.  He always returns to you bruised and dirty, manhandling and shoving his bounties up the ramp and into the carbonite chamber one by one, not bothering with the fuel needed to collect payment until at least three or four have been retrieved.

You try not to constantly replay the incredibly vivid memory of one of them snarling something sexually obscene at you once and how quickly the bounty hunter whipped his fist out and broke his nose before freezing him.

“Isn’t… isn’t he still conscious in there?”  You remember asking, studying the disgustingly crooked angle of the man’s shattered silver nose, to which the Mandalorian shortly replied, “Yes,” before clambering into the cockpit and taking off.

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concrete king. (m) jjk

part two here.

pairing. skaterboy!jk x reader genre. fluff, smut, himbo energy word count. 16.7k ….don’t look at me warnings. sweet summer romance, blonde!jk, brief depictions of drugs (marijuana usage), alcohol, lots of making out, messy car sex, fingering, spit kink !! (duh), light tit play, playful dirty talk, protected sex, overall cute, jungkook is a big fking dork and a softie! summary. when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor theres no way you could ever say no to him note. thank you to @cutechim @jungkxook for indulging my thirsty rambles as well as @coepiteamare for beta reading this for me like an absolute angel ❣️ ily babes !! ps. @jjkxla​ come get ur mans ! (i also made a bby playlist for the fic here !)

leave some feedback, send a message, tell me u love me pls u know the drill <3

The California sun beats high from it’s spot in the sky, zero clouds coming between the harsh rays that bounce off the concrete and warm up Jungkook’s body in an almost uncomfortable way. He can feel the sweat accumulating on the back of his neck, leaving the blonde strands damp with moisture, ends curling up as he ruffles his hands through them. 

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