Jk Imagines - Tumblr Posts

how about them fighting about a girl which jk unintentionally checked out?

You sulk with your arms crossed and lips in a pout while lying on your bed and staring at the ceiling, refusing to glance at Jungkook who stands by your side with an arched brow. It's silent in your dorm until he breaks it. "You're upset."

Without bothering to give him a response, you only cock a brow and hum.

"First step to solving a problem is to admit–"

"I don't have a problem, Jungkook," you immediately pick up a snarky tone, "thanks for taking the time to notice my mood though. I guess there aren't any other girls to notice when I'm the only one here."

His face twists in confusion as he stupidly blurts, "What?" At your scoff, he gently settles on the mattress to sit next to you as if trying not to scare away a stray cat. You're more of a wild tiger in this situation however; your anger always manages to intimidate him, and he has to approach you cautiously. "What other girls?" He keeps his voice soft to avoid an argument—it doesn't help.

"You tell me," you glare at him, "or did you not catch her name? The girl you seemed to fancy at the café? Don't mind me, you can go back and speak with her all you want."

A heavy sigh leaves his mouth as he closes his eyes for a moment. "I was looking at her tattoos–"

"Why don't you go ahead and ask about their meanings? I'd hate to keep you waiting."

His gaze turns cold at your constant interruption, eyes becoming hooded and the corners of his mouth lowering to a frown. "Are you going to let me talk or do you want to keep arguing with yourself?"

You click your tongue and return to your staring contest with the ceiling. The atmosphere is tense for no good reason, and it has him inhaling a deep breath as to not anger you any further by growing angry himself. It doesn't help.

"A tattoo on her arm caught my eye, and I understand why you would misinterpret that as–"

"Misinterpret? I'm encouraging you to ask her–"

"Zip– those fucking lips," he asserts calmly. "I'm talking. Quit being a brat." You sink into the sheets with a scowl. One of your pet peeves is being treated like a child in the literal sense, but you don't have the heart to bite back. "I liked a tattoo, and I took a look for one second. It doesn't mean I'm interested in her, or anyone besides you. You understand that, don't you?" You narrow your eyes with determination; determined to not be treated like a child with these condescending, rhetorical questions.

"Tell me you understand."

The corner of your mouth tugs up to a smirk as you remark, "Oh, I understand, but what I don't understand is why you didn't just ask her to get matching tattoos with you."

He rolls his lips inwards and puts a hand over his face as he exasperates, "Where did that even come from?" A groan later, he stands up and says, "That was a serious question. Would you please enlighten me on where that idea might root from to plague your mind? Hm, baby?"

You can sense he's going to say more, so you keep your mouth shut.

"Do tell me where you're getting all this bullshit from to spew it at me, I'm fucking begging you!" He raises his hands and flings them in emphasis, making you slowly sit up uncomfortably.

"I was just–"

"Where did it come from, that's what I want to know," he places his hands on the bed to lean into you, voice still rough and demanding with its volume, "tell me, come on, since you're such a fucking know-it-all."

Jungkook's ability to dominate an argument makes an appearance again, and you shift in your seat as you murmur, "Nowhere–"

"No no, you must have a reason for saying something so outrageous if it's been stuck on your mind," he presses incredulously.

"I was just mad!"

Jungkook hates arguing with you, he really does, but this approach has proven to be more effective with you countless times and playing nice is no longer on his mind when he's leveling with you. If being mean will make you drop this act, then he'll go to the extent of making you cry.

"Oh really?" he scoffs with a crazed grin. "I'm mad too, but you don't hear me talking about matching tattoos or some other dumb shit. You want to know what I think?" You don't move an inch out of hesitance and from feeling exposed by his close proximity, his wild eyes staring deeply into you. "I think you were being stupid," he whispers. "What do you think?"

You have to take a moment to wonder if he's being rhetorical or actually expecting a response, and when he waits patiently, you agree in a mumble, "I was being stupid."

"We're on the same page, good..." he's speaking quietly now, like he's going back to the nice guy from before, except there's no room for you to argue at this point. "What do we say when we realize we said something stupid to hurt someone?"

"I wasn't trying to hurt–"

"What do we say?" he lowers his head to look up at you, emphasizing each word menacingly.

"I'm sorry."

He cracks a tiny smile and palms your cheek, gaze turning soft with affection. "Good girl. I forgive you. See what happens when we talk things out? Think about that the next time you get stupid ideas." He pecks your lips before getting on the bed and lying down on his side to face you. A weight lifts off your shoulders as well as a burden from your heart when he pats the spot before him, beckoning you to be his little spoon. It's with a smile that you allow him to hug you tightly.

Omg loved those side drabbles🤣❤️ 😍 Can you do a drabble for when Jungkook tattoos his name on OC😆 that is cute as heck

hah,,, idk about cute in this one 💀

"Is it sterilized?" you worry in your spot on his bed where you lie down, hands clenched into fists at the anticipation of pain from the needle that Jungkook inserts through the tube and into the machine with his black gloved hands. He's shirtless with you, both of you half naked in his dorm. There are baby wipes on his bedside table.

"It was in sterile packaging, the fuck you think?" he responds monotonously, completely focused on the task at hand. There's a rough draft of the tattoo right under your bare boob written in marker where he will ink your skin. You're nervous and have goosebumps all over, nipples hard from the exposure and emotions that come with.

You close your eyes shut and stop digging your nails into your palms. You don't need to lose any more blood than you will from the procedure by cutting your palms. Your only comfort is admiring his tattoo sleeve and thinking yours will be just as beautiful. Plus, your heart flutters every time you see your name on him. You know you won't regret doing this.

There is no warning when Jungkook sits down by your waist and holds up the machine. "W-Wait, we're starting?" you panic.

"You're not ready?"

"I just need a second," you breathe. You swallow your nerves and even out your breathing while he soothingly rubs your stomach that is twisted in knots. "Is it going to hurt a lot?"

"Just a sting," he quietly reassures, "it'll only take a few minutes."

You bite on your lip to stop the trembling and nod at him to begin.

"You'll be alright," he pecks your cheek before palming your boob to hold it up, just in case. You don't know if it's entirely necessary, but you're in no position to question him about the process. He's the one with countless tattoos after all.

It buzzes just before it meets your skin, and you immediately squirm with a squeak. He squeezes your boob as a warning and carefully writes out the first letter despite your subtle jerks. His left hand wipes at the puddling ink thrice before pulling away.

Thankfully, you're not crying so far.

"That's one letter done," he announces and gives you a short break without moving his hand from your tit.

"Oh God," you whimper, and he starts massaging the soft flesh to comfort you.

"Not so bad, right?" he leans down to gently bite your nipple, making you jolt before opening your eyes.

"Just a sting," you reiterate in a cute whisper.

"I'll be quick."

You're only rewarded a break once he finishes the first name, Jeon in capital letters that are in a relatively small font. It's quick work, and he kisses your swollen lips that you bite on anxiously to distract you from your building up tears. They go back down by the end of the break, and he gets back to work.

The second part is... not so great, considering it takes a lot longer to write eight letters while you still can't stay still. And to think he went through this pain multiple times!

He refuses to give you a break, and your breast takes the punishment for your relentless squirming and whimpers. He doesn't give into your pathetic crying, but you don't end your efforts despite his lack of empathy.

"It hurts! Please, just one minute!"

"A slut can take it," is his final response, relating back to the time he carried you on his back without your shirt on. The memory flusters you, and you suck it up by sitting still without stopping your whines.

By the end, your cheeks are flushed and a few tears have made their escape while he cleans up your tattoo with a few more swipes of the baby wipes.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he says condescendingly and wipes your tears away with his thumbs after taking off his gloves. You can still feel the aftermaths of being practically stabbed, but it's not painful enough to warrant another cry.

You're glad that it's over, and excited to see the results. He picks up his phone to take a picture without your nipple in the frame and passes it onto your grabby hands with a satisfied grin. His chest is puffed with pride, and seeing his name on your flesh is so sexy in his eyes. He's tainted you completely.

You sit up with a gasp and zoom in on the photo. "It looks amazing!"

"It looks hot is what it is," he looks at his phone with you. He pecks your cheek again, "You did really well, baby. Took it like a big girl."

You smile widely at his praise and snuggle into his neck. "Thank you," you meekly say with a blush, appreciating both his work and his compliments.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers into your hair and pulls up your face to kiss you again—not so much a peck this time.

You sigh into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck, on cloud nine from the beauty cast by his steady hand and having his permanent mark. It's a gesture to swear yourselves to each other, and it ascends you to euphoria.

He lightly caresses the stinging red flash before lying you back down on the sheets, his lips uncharacteristically gentle on yours as if to make up for hurting you.

But it doesn't feel like it; it feels more like a special occasion. You show your love with pain and needles, but feel it with pleasure and intimacy—he can hurt you with pricks and kiss them better. He's not chasing a climax, he's giving you the aftercare.

He calls you by his name this time.