#please grant me the strength to finish writing this

[fortjester]

in other news, my joey claire fic is now 4.2k words long, whoot whoot

[namazunomegami]

emperor!sukuna x imperial concubine!reader

a/n: part 2 of my self-indulging mess. I had a lot of fun writing him and his drabble got finished way before I developed the whole plotline for Geto lol. I'll try to complete Gojo today or tomorrow and Toji is in the works yaaay!!

Also, I'm so surprised my Geto drabble got so many notes in such a short time!! I wouldn't expected people to be remotely interested in my writing but now I'm getting confident.

And finally, I can guarantee that this reader is gender neutral.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated <33

wc: 674, I know, I know, Geto got the princess treatment from me but sometimes less is more <333

cw: historical AU, scheming, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of sudden infant death syndrome, betrayal, accusations of abortion, execution, nudity, mentions of poisoning, suggestive

credits: i used a colored manga panel instead of a fanart but I have no idea who did the coloring so feel free to help me credit their work. And again, my precious @notveryrussian did the proofread, luv ya mwah <33

MDNI PLEASE! I'm gonna find you and kick you in the butt if you do. If you’re not comfortable with dark content or anything mentioned in the warnings just scroll, there's nothing wrong with that.

His mandate of heaven is very different from Gojo and Geto. Sukuna is a ruthless tyrant, he enjoys crushing any nation he deems either threatening or undeserving to even exist next to his borders. His palace is a snake pit, full of betrayal and backstabbing. Executions are frequent and he needs no valid reason to sentence someone to death, he enjoys the bloodshed and the sight of lifeless bodies. You can’t survive that place acting kind and humble. Sukuna specifically torments his concubines physically and mentally for the sheer enjoyment of it.

His court is probably the most competitive. You need to be as ruthless as he is, you need to become a schemer. One of his high-ranking consorts takes you under her wing. She lets you spend leisure time with her, and somehow, she ends up telling you way more sensitive information than she should. She once managed to give him a child, but the infant sadly died days after they were born. She complained about how hard that pregnancy was and that she’s afraid of going through it again, even though she’s attached to him. And not long after this conversation, she fell ill. Retching out everything she ate, her stomach burned and ached. She was so weak her cycle was two weeks late. She trusted you enough to have you fetch her a specific herbal tea to ease her pain and grant her some dreamless sleep.

And that’s the moment you decide you’ll use everything you know about her to cast her down and take her place.

You accuse her that she’s pregnant but wants to abort her baby. Your story is so intricately constructed from all the details you knew that his officials are on your side without hesitation. She watches you horrified, desperately telling him that nothing could be so far from the truth. Sukuna decides to believe in your words and orders for the consort to be executed. Finding pure joy in how she wails and begs for forgiveness. At the execution, he studies your face, every little detail and reaction and you were aware of that. It’s time to impress him. Your face is still, you don’t even flinch when her head is severed by the neck. The eunuchs come for you at night.

He loves and loathes this tradition at the same time. The servants want to protect him, so they deliver you stark naked to ensure you won’t carry any weapons. Fools, as if a weak and trembling creature like you could ever hurt him with a mere dagger or a sharpened hairpin. Yet it makes you look like an offering. A sacrificial lamb. Maybe because you are.

Some primal instinct tells you to balance your inner strength and innate fear of him. Pull back your shoulders, straighten your back, don’t even think to conceal your private parts. Let your fingers quiver and the sheer dread in your eyes seep through. He mocks you. Almost laughs at you while sitting comfortably on the intricately carved shelf bed, wearing a loose bright yellow robe, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. There’s no reason for him to not do this though, he’s a god, the son of heaven, therefore, everything about him is perfect.

The first thing he asks you is if you’re satisfied with your pathetic attempt to improve your position. You don’t dare to tell him that you feel the guilt rotting your insides. He confesses that he was poisoning her meals, he wanted to watch her wither away slowly and enjoy her suffering, but you ruined his plans. He might spare you, you’re a stupid little thing, you couldn’t have known. He warns you that you need to do so much more if you want to be on his good side. You need to be absolutely despicable to earn his praise. Though you feel content having reached your goal and getting to spend a night with him, somewhere deep down you hope you can leave his chamber in one piece or, at least, alive.

[milkywaydrabbles]

If it's quite alright with you, I would like to request Castlevania's Alucard with a female s/o who helped take dracula down. I imagine she takes Grant's place from the videogame,(they never adapted him in the anime 😔).

Love to see Alucard with a bossy, mischievous girl boss.

A/N: Hello aaa thank you for the request!! I had to do some background checking on Grant since I didn't actually play the games (fake fan fr) so I hope this sounds okay! I rewrote this like 4 times because I didn't know if HCs or a full drabble would be better ;A;

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! It was fun writing a S/O like this!

TW: none!

Alucard with a sassy S/O ☼Oh, she was bossy alright. After the curse was lifted and she realized she had supernatural powers that never went away after being turned back to human from that demonic form (don’t ever ask her how that came to be, she’ll just shrug. How do you even explain that?) she felt more invigorated to go and fight Dracula, completely ignoring the three that saved her life. ☼“A thank you would be nice” Trevor would grumble, and she’d turn around with a taunting smirk. “I would say thank you if it weren’t for the fact you almost killed me along the way.” Was her retort, and before Belmont and company could even speak she marched her way along to the castle. “Are you coming?” she questioned ☼If y’all thought the trio was fun with their bickering you should see the way she gangs up on Trevor with Alucard! But only when Sypha wasn’t around, she had to maintain an image around the woman (that she wasn’t just as childish as the boys were, liar.) ☼“Come on Belmont, don’t listen to Alucard. I think your whip is cool. Just...not as cool as the magical sword that floats around him all the time.” She’d throw a wink at the Dhampir, who couldn’t help but blush up his neck and cough into his hand to cover up his embarrassment.  ☼Turns out, she was actually super helpful in the fight against the night creatures that crawled around Dracula’s castle, along with the vampire generals. Effortlessly jumping from wall to wall, slicing through skin and cracking bone with superhuman strength and a dagger, she really did help clear the way to Dracula for them to finish the job. ☼With all said and done, Trevor and Sypha packed up to leave, Alucard assumed you’d be going with them. ☼Imagine everyone’s shock when you shyly looked down at your scuffed boots and asked if it would ‘be alright if I stayed around. I quite like it here with you’.  ☼The teasing that would ensue from the nomadic duo would be endless until they finally left.  ☼Fast forward after defeating Death, and village Belmont being established (she still calls his Village Treffy) she’s just as fiery as she was in the beginning. The only difference is the outward love and affection she shows Alucard. And if anyone said anything about it, she’d simply flick them off with a middle finger. ☼Sometimes though, that didn’t work out the best in her favor, and would come home with cuts and bruises.

“My love, please don’t think you have to fight for my honor or something ridiculous like that.” Alucard would sigh, lightly dabbing at the cut above her eyebrow, apologizing silently when she winced. “Adrian, how am I supposed to let it go when they have something awful to say about you? You let them live on your land, build them a village, saved them from Danesti. And they have the nerve to insult you for being half vampire!” You got too animated, clutching your head where the blow landed. Alucard clicked his tongue, continuing to care of the cuts and bruises. 

“Plus, if you think I look bad you should see the other guy.” She joked, flexing an arm that wasn’t currently being bandaged up. “You didn’t think I’d lose did you? I have to look cool for our nephew that's on the way!"

Oh, he was absolutely smitten with her.

[writella]

In the Meadow

So I meant to start + post a Daryl fic (and it’s 50% there, I’ll finish it soon!!) but I was just obsessed with Rick and the reader in their little spot in the meadow in Moments Behind His Eyes, and I wanted to write another story in that setting. I was actually trying to keep it ‘porn, no plot’ lol but then I added a bit of plot, one day I’ll try to keep it super short, I promise!! But what I added is fun.. at least I think lol!! You can read it as a prequel to mbhe or not if you don’t want to picture the age gap dynamic that is in this fic, your choice. c:

Rick x fem!reader, age gap relationship (reader is in her 20s), Alexandria era, smut / 18+ (I marked the area with a heart where it starts and then three hearts when it really starts to get serious), oh and one use of the word “daddy.” This is my second fic and I would love to hear some feedback, so please comment or make an ask on my blog about it or about twd, rick, or daryl related things or literally anything about whatever you’d like— you would make my day. ♡

You hate to admit it, but you still felt uncomfortable having sex with Rick at home. It’s ironic how becoming the woman of the house accidentally made you more promiscuous than you ever were before. You were unbuttoning his shirt and he was taking off your pants under the sun, above the grass, in a meadow— a MEADOW, near water, that literally anyone could walk into.

Well, that was not exactly true. In probability it was— you were outside— but in actuality, almost no one visited this slice of heaven you and Rick called your spot.

“Have you been near the meadow today?” Rick, in this variation or another, would ask on occasion. “I saw a pretty little flower growing there this morning.” His smile was sweet, but you knew better. “It was your favorite color,” there was mischief in his eyes as he shrugged nonchalantly, “reminded me of you.”

It was typical that if he added some detail or new observation about the meadow, whether it was made up or not, that he wanted you. Now.

It was exciting, but also reassuring that you had a place like this to call your own. Having a gorgeous house was a luxury you would never take for granted, but Rick’s house was almost like an hq. You were pretty sure Daryl’s spot was in the garage or basement. You didn’t bother asking if that’s what he considered his room, or rooms, or not. Daryl was always welcomed, no questions asked, and no need for him to get self conscious about his ways— you loved him. And you were also pretty sure he slept outside sometimes, just because it’s what felt natural, or on Carol’s sofa, and who knows where else. He didn’t say and no one asked. And as for everyone else, especially those of the pre-Alexandria group, coming by unannounced, asking Rick questions, or sitting for a cup of coffee was common. You guys even had small meetings there. To say the least, this home wasn’t always a private one, and you did like that, that the place you lived in was a safe meeting area for others, but as your relationship with Rick advanced, slowly moving from this unspoken partnership to a more outwardly romantic one, you enjoyed having an area that felt like no one was watching.

You were a little younger than Rick. Maybe a little too much younger if you asked some. It was only a little more than nearing toward a decade into this new world, yet you still had your before brain. If this was then, you knew there would be family members who absolutely would not approve. He was the father of a teenager after all. But now, with your found family, you were one of the leaders in Alexandria. You were even a part of the group before Alexandria. Searching for a home, out in the wild for what felt like well over half a year. Surviving a hardship like that brings people together, shows them their strengths, their resilience. Everyone was an equal. And you pulled your weight more than you ever imagined of yourself, as both a fighter and friend.

It’s part of what made Rick captivated by you. You were strong, and more than capable of holding your own, but so endearingly kind. You weren’t a natural at anything, but a quick learner well enough who always had interesting stories to tell. Only you could make a seemingly basic tale about how you got lost on your way to a concert sound so entertaining. You still had the beauty of the past in you. You loved to read and write and you missed watching movies, but you never minded retelling what you remembered of the plot from one of the groups favorite films to lighten the mood on another sleepless night where you hadn’t found a home yet. And in the day, when it was time to scavenge or kill the walkers on your trails, you were always prepared to do your part as best as you could. Following example of how to use a gun or your knife. Daryl even taught you how to use his bow, and no one touches his bow. But you liked making a special, intimate connection with everyone, so becoming close to each member came naturally to you. It was individual to you and that person of course— your gentleness and lighthearted charm was truly your own— but in a way, they trusted you like they trusted Rick. Without realizing it was this precisely, he felt an unspoken connection to you because of it.

You felt it too. He always gave credit to his group when it was due, never down playing their strengths or intelligence, so hearing a quick compliment about your ‘good work’ or him placing a hand on your shoulder, patting your back, or that one time he called you a ‘sweet girl’ because of the way you knew how to make Carl smile, wasn’t exactly uncommon— well maybe that last one— but nonetheless it doesn’t mean it didn’t touch the deepest parts of your heart every time you heard or felt it.

Honestly, you found it silly how obsessed you were with the littles things about him. You loved his beard, how his hair remained a rich brown, yet his facial hair was a mix of brown and grey and white, and how he looked stunning with any variation of it. You knew you would take him with it at its longest, but even with none at all. And his eyes, those potently colored blue eyes. The ones that had little crinkles that formed around the corners when he smiled, it made you wonder if that meant he smiled a lot before all of this. Those eyes reminded you of the sky and what could be. The future without fear or as close as you could get to it. You were inspired that someone who had taken control and fought against oppressors, didn’t become one himself. He always remains so deeply loving and even vulnerable at times. He could be untrusting, that’s true, but in the end, he was always ready to accept more people into his life or his community if they showed their humanity.

Thinking about the things you loved about Rick made you excited for a future with him, but then there was Carl whom you loved so deeply. It’s not that things were exactly secret, you knew that was true, but you still wondered how aspects of your relationship with him might change when kisses were openly exchanged at the breakfast table, or how it would look to everyone else if you held Rick’s hand more freely when people were around, maybe it a moment where you felt he needed it to remember you were there in times of stress.

Though it’s not like everyone isn’t aware of the fact that Rick doesn’t talk with, or take the advice of, or even argue at times with others the way he does with you. Rick respected his group, but it was no mystery that he respected you in a way you do with a significant other. Not to mention, you lived in his house for god’s sake; you called it ‘home’ when you referenced it.

You kept teetering with your thoughts, you liked your current home dynamic. You got to be Rick’s partner, everyone’s friend, plus you were also Carl’s confidant. You even liked to write him little stories, knowing how much he loved his old comics from your time at the prison. You’d call them ‘comic books but in word form,’ always handing them over to him excitedly.

“Comics have words,” he’d tease, but he always loved reading them, all of ‘em. He was obsessed. What you would call his ‘little emo boy soul’ would constantly ask if you could write something a little darker, but you couldn’t help but make the endings positive. In truth, writing them was an escape for yourself too. This obviously wasn’t the life you expected to live after all. But you also loved the Grimes’ and you couldn’t picture your life without them now. And you loved that ever since you moved to Alexandria and ever since the original clan started moving to their own respective houses, Rick never asked you to leave and Carl continually asked if you were around.

Your care for him danced over the fine line of being protective of him like a guardian, but always, more likely than not, engaging in conversation with him like an older sister. You liked that he trusted you to tell him things that he felt he couldn’t always casually talk to his father about. As endlessly giving as Rick is as a father, he was also a leader living in the aftermath of an apocalypse— he was a busy guy.

Although you give him the benefit of the doubt, your handsome and strong but obviously oblivious man, has yet to realize or at least acknowledge, that his own son has a girlfriend, or whatever Carl and Enid’s relationship was, you didn’t ask too many questions about the actual definition. From your time with Rick before Alexandria, you understood romantic friendships and blurred lines well enough. But you did know Enid’s favorite color, that she knew how to roller skate, and you even helped Carl make her a bracelet from a box of beads one cute little five year old girl in town lent to him.

-♡-

That’s why as you took quick breaths in between kisses, Rick’s tongue quickly peaking in and out of your mouth as your heads moved left to right and back again, he kissed you once more, slowly humming into the kiss, then letting go to ask, “When are we going to do this in our bed?”

Our bed. That’s the first time you heard him call it that.

Sure, the amount of times you’ve tiptoed to Rick’s door has increased as the weeks have gone by, but you still had your own room. As much as you liked how our bed sounds, is it bad that you still liked how things were? All your books were in there. And you liked when he surprised you in your room too.

“I think at this point you know Carl better than anyone, you don’t think he has eyes?”

“I’d say what we have has been undefined, but not discreet,” you reason. You take a beat, “I just want to be respectful.”

“I’m ready for you,” his words are firm and loving. “I don’t think anyone is going to worry. And if they do, they’re going to have to realize they’ve probably noticed all along.” Then a curious smile appears on his face, “And did we ever know how old Abraham was in comparison to Rosita?”

That made you giggle far too much, but it also surprised you and you could tell by the look on his face, it surprised him too. Rick was kind, and he could be smug, and liked to laugh but he wasn’t the joking type, especially about a lost loved one. It’s one of the first times he’s mentioned Abraham in the context of his life, not his death.

“I’m sure Abraham would have thought that was funny too.” You think for a moment, “Something like, ‘there ain’t enough donuts to choose from in this crumbled up box of life to stick your twinkie into. Beggars can’t be choosers. Fuck the plain or get none.’” You guys both share a look of shock and laughter at your terrible impression. Imperfectly derogatory for sure, but not quite the same as the bizarre but surprisingly understandable verbiage of the charismatic guy you used to know. “Rosita is like a strawberry with sprinkles, or a boston creme though. You know, something special; I was just saying whatever came to my head first,” you explain shyly, eyes away, still giggling.

Rick is hysterically speechless, the most confounding look on his face as he tries to process the fact that that pseudo-Abraham phrase came out of your mouth.

“I just didn’t want you to get sad.” Your voice is tender and sincere.

-♡ ♡ ♡-

He nods, acknowledging the gesture, saying softly, “Silly girl,” his thumb and pointer holding your chin. “My pretty girl.” He pecks you, but his lips go in between yours as he does, it feels so deep for something so quick. “My sweet girl.” Another kiss, and that fire builds in your heart again, you’ll never forget the first time he called you that and you’re never getting over how much you love it. “My sweet baby girl,” his voice is sultry, even though he says it low, it sounds thick and sharp opposed to his lips that feel warm and soft, though his beard scratches up against your skin as he kisses you once more, tongue going into your mouth.

When Rick kisses, it feels immersive. He’s the man who always has the right words to say, so when he can’t speak in a moment like this, all of the conviction he would display verbally, comes out orally by way of how his mouth feel against yours, it’s as if it touches every corner.

Closing your eyes as you lean in, it feels like sunbathing: there is a peace at the feeling of brightness and heat as your eyelids lower. It’s just like how everything about being with Rick feels right. You feel embarrassed to admit you might worship the man. You’d give in to anything he gave you.

You were already in his lap, but now your hips move closer to his own until there is no more space. Your knees are bent and your shoes are flat on the ground, helping you grind against him with more control. You push in, up and down, and his hands are on your lower back, nearing your ass helping you go faster.

Rick catches your lips and your tongues twist into one another. Your arms are over his shoulders, they’re straight and you have your hands crossed over the other. As you continue to rock, one of his hands slowly trails up your back, caressing your neck and then he pushes into your hair. It guides your head exactly the way he wants to kiss you, controlling it, every feeling making you moan into his mouth. Heaven really could be a place and it was your spot, in the meadow, where you and Rick loved and touched exactly how you wanted to.

Rick lets go of you completely and pushes his hands to the ground and slides back as best as he can, moving the two of you closer to a tree to support his back. You both push off your shoes, his shirt was discarded long ago, but now you undo his belt and he’s taking off your shirt.

He’s pulling his boxers down, his hardened cock springs up, and you notice a vein on the side, precum at the tip, you were this close to kissing it but then he pulls your underwear over to the left, not taking it off. You don’t question it because he’s quick with his movements, checking how wet you were with his fingers, despite there being an obviously large wet spot on the fabric, and then he pushes himself in, bottoming out immediately.

Your sigh is angelic, and his groan is guttural, it almost makes you moan again.

You rock against him, this time feeling so full and euphoric. You hadn’t had sex in the before time, but there was that one time where you did lose your virginity to a nice guy back at the prison, and then another time a year later when you decided to try again with someone else. It was fun, but meaningless. You didn’t think you’d be the one night stand type, at least not for your first times, but back then you sometimes felt like everyday was your last day, and as much as you always admired Rick, he was heavy in mourning in the early prison days, and you were trying to be a good friend by keeping your distance, talking to him platonically.

Alexandria was different though, you felt a new hope here. And then there were Rick’s more forward gestures, leading you to follow his new energy, and now you think he has probably ruined everyone else for you, not that there would be anyone else. Who else could there be now that Rick called you his?

You started to pump up and back down, bouncing happily. You were always the kind of person that was so worried about everyone else’s feelings, and as much as you smiled it wasn’t all the time that Rick saw you so carefree. So much so in fact you kept switching from bouncing to rocking, not knowing which you liked best, both feeling so good, “you just feel so big,” you admitted, stretching out the syllables, making him groan again.

It amused him too, laughing lightly as he opened his eyes, watching your face tilt, mouth agape, pants and quiet “ahs” coming out of you. Your eyes were closed, you looked as if you were in an amazing, intoxicating place.

He liked that this was a new way he got to know you that other people didn’t. You never admitted it, but he knew now that sometimes you like being on top. It made him chuckle, just watching you do as you pleased. He liked giving you what you wanted, but now he wanted to speed things up.

“Alright,” he said, kissing you quickly, “my turn.” He pulled you off and almost threw you to the ground. You thought nothing of it, all you did was take off your under garments in anticipation.

He was between your legs now, on his knees, staring at the glistening of your folds that was seeping just a bit at the bottom, the hand on your lower stomach, then your tits, noticing you had discarded your bra— you really were becoming dissolute, weren’t you? But really you were just absolutely drunk on Rick. Finally, he noticed your swollen lips and your teeth that softly bit down on your finger, your eyes entranced by the man above you, the sun creating a halo over his messy curls. “You really are my beautiful girl, aren’t you?”

You shook your head bashfully. “And you’re my handsome man.”

“Oh yeah?”

You hum, you meant it sweetly, but it comes out seductively.

He comes closer, “Does that mean you’re going to let me do exactly what I want?”

“Yes, daddy.” The phrase comes out without thinking, your eyes scrunch, your cheeks are roses, your hands cover your face, but Rick has the widest grin, pushing your hands off to meet your eyes.

“Okay,” he nodded curiously, eyes smiling wickedly now. “If that’s how you see it, baby girl.”

Then suddenly, your head was in between his hands, flat on the grass and he pushes in completely, no stopping. You felt entirely split open. There was no mercy here.

He noticed your eyes and nose scrunching up again at all the pain and pleasure. Your breaths kept coming out as quick and harsh pants, then he watched the tension release as he slowed down, moving his cock in and halfway out a bit, rocking his hips into it. Your pants turned into moaning sighs, and then he switched on you. Totally disrupting the system as he quickened up again. Your mouth opened wide. You tried your best not to shout his name, but nonetheless a loud, “Rick!” came out and your face tightened again.

“Let go,” you were squeezing his arms for dear life at this point, but you listened and released him, reaching for his back. His forearms laid on the grass now so you could put your arms over him. His balls were slapping against you as he went hard and deep, kissing your neck until he couldn’t hold in his grunts and moans that fell directly into your ear. The speed became almost unbearable as he said your name and then he came, but even after he did, his stamina never faltered.

He took your bent leg and placed it over his shoulder, and took the liberty to thumb your clit. Tight circles going fast, fast, fast. But he did make sure to slow down the pace, only a little for you, going in and out saying, “Your turn, pretty girl. You gonna be good for me?”

“Yes,” you said desperately.

You two moaned in unison, thrusting up into each other, until Rick changed the position of his thrusts to curl up inside of you. It makes you drop your leg from his shoulder, digging into his back, “Right there.”

“Yeah, there it is,” he felt you close, he smiled knowing he’s got you exactly where you needed it, “You’re a sweet girl, you know that?” He looked at you when he said it but your eyes were closed. His words alone snapped the knot inside of you and took you over the edge. You felt it everywhere as he pumped vastly once again allowing you to ride your high, hand coming to your jaw, starting to lightly cover your neck as you did so, he did it without thinking and then let go.

Once you came down, he pulled out, putting your underwear and bra back on for you and taking his boxers. He laid flat on his back and pulled you over until you were on top of him.

His arms extended over you, you both laid in peaceful silence for a moment until he said your name, making you look up at him. He took one of his hands to fix your disheveled hair, running his fingers through it lightly. Your eyes doting as your fingers trailed his face in return. You really were his sweet, beautiful girl.

“Tonight,” he started, “After I put Judith down, I’m going to open my door and call out for Carl. I’m going to say goodnight to him and then I want you to come and stand with me by the door. Then you say goodnight too.” He was stern in tone, but gentle in sentiment. “It’s time.”

“Okay,” you responded obediently. “You’re right, it’s time.”

[chejuu]

20 questions for writers

thank you @wingdingery for the tag and excuse to self-indulgently talk about myself <3

1. how many works do you have on AO3? 17 on cheju, then 11 more on my various and sundry accounts 🫣

2. what's your total AO3 word count? 73,122 on cheju, a total of 110,145

3. what fandoms do you write for? nightwing + some original work as of late + various fandoms i used to be in that people request in fic exchanges

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? like two days ago bad desire just surpassed the kudos of a ten-year-old sansa/margaery fic i published on my old account. wow! please ignore that i was writing smut at 16

setting aside my other accounts, then it’s diesis (smut), listen to teeth (smut), sex, lies, and audiotape (mafia au. also smut), and exactly what it looks like (silly identity porn crack)

5. do you respond to comments? always!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? down together leaves it open but probably fits the bill, in that the sex makes things significantly worse between slade and dick

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Rescued Slut Thanks His Studly Savior is established relationship sladick fluff (if pure smut can be fluff i guess) which i thought i would never write so maybe that. or better now, but it's about theater camp (2023) which is already a feel-good comedy movie to begin with

8. do you get hate on fics? not yet. i feel like it's a rite of passage, tho. quick someone send me hate

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind? it’s like... all i do

10. do you write crossovers? no, but never saying never!

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? nope

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? i think i’d be too embarrassed

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? gotta be drarry (sorry sladick)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will? i plan to finish all my wips eventually, even the unpublished ones! at least any that have made it out of the notes app and into a word doc. the only one that maaay not make it is a recursive fic (author permission granted!) based on a popular sladick story—i’m a bit nervous about not living up to the original 🙈

16. What are your writing strengths? character voice, i think, and banter in particular. sexual tension, smut. so i've been told!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? i hardly write anything longer than a single scene, let alone more than one chapter. the one time i've given it an earnest go, i've gotten so caught up in the weeds that i haven't updated in months T_T

i'd also like to get better at atmosphere. not so much descriptions of the setting, more like... creating a distinctive tone through detail, metaphor, word choice. sometimes i feel like unless i'm writing a very particular setting, the tone is just. nonexistent?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i honestly have zero thoughts

19. First fandom you wrote for? harry potter when was 14. wow it even has an A/N and everything

20. Favourite fic you've written? i think it’s bad desire so i’m glad the people agree hahah 

-

tagging @lordwisteria @roipecheur @mattdillon @thesubtextis @ontheropesss !

[cha-melodius]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you @rmd-writes, @welcometololaland, @liminalmemories21, and @orchidscript for tagging me! How did you know I love random questionaires about my fic writing. 😂

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

109! I celebrated hitting 100 recently (technically still celebrating, I suppose).

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,220,396. I had a goal to hit 1 million before the end of last year, and somehow I've written 220k since then???? Howmst?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

RWRB, TMFU, Loki

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood (RWRB, E, 20k; couples therapy AU)

Nova, Baby (RWRB, E, 66k; spy AU)

Class(room) Warfare (RWRB, M, 7.8k; professors AU)

All the Old Showstoppers (RWRB, E, 20k; celebrity bake off AU)

Always Where I Need To Be (RWRB, T, 5.4k; roomates AU feat. David)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do but I am now horribly behind because y'all are so lovely and I am a little overwhelmed. I like to respond because people took the time to leave a comment and I want them to know how much that means to me (it's a lot. it means a LOT). I promised I WILL get to them eventually!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Definitely Who's Gonna Love You (The Mandalorian), which is a no-comfort breakup angst fic. I wrote it after having my heart ripped out by reading two unhappy ending fics lmao. Have never gone back to the truly unhappy ending again. (I have done some bittersweet or ambiguous ending fics, but those don't reach this level.)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics have quite happy endings, but I don't think you can beat a fluffy ending at the end of a long fic. I often go for the chapter full of pure, tooth-rotting fluff (after tearing your heart out lmao). That means Nova, Baby, Love is a Losing Game, A Good Man Is Hard To Find, Amor Magnus Doctor Est... probably the most pure fluff at the end.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've had some here and there. One particular person who just kept coming back and I'm like just stop reading????

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, but when it comes to one shots I'm probably more likely to leave it out. My smut always comes with plot and/or lots of feelings. I like writing it best as part of a larger story, actually.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven't for a while but I have two requests I need to fill. Previous crossovers have been The Mandalorian/Battlestar Galactica (because badass ladies named Cara/Kara), and The Mandalorian/The Witcher (because surly dudes with accidentally adopted children). Oh I guess my most recent was TMFU/Glass Onion (because Hugh Grant).

(If you're wondering what the requests are, it's TMFU/Loki and TMFU/RWRB.)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yup! Four fics, all TMFU (three by the same person). I am always happy to grant permission!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I've got plans with @cricketnationrise.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Can't choose! I love all the ships I write for—that's why I can't stop.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't think I have one of these. I have one abandoned WIP that I've anon'd because I hate it lmao. Generally if I want to finish something, I will.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Plot (I unabashedly love many of my plot twists), action sequences, dialogue/banter, world building, characterization?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Although it should be straightforward because see: action, I feel like my smut is kind of lackluster. Sometimes I hit the notes just right and it really works, but other times I feel like people just get bored.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm unlikely to do it unless I have a native speaker I can run it by (I have some wonderful Russian friends who have been vital for this for some TMFU fics).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Xena: Warrior Princess

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I will scream about this one until the end of time, especially since it's relatively low kudos'd: the 60s chess AU, Love is a Losing Game. It's my most complete and well-structured novel, and I promise you don't need to know anything about TMFU to read it.

Tagging @cricketnationrise, @14carrotghoul, @inexplicablymine, @cheesecurdsgravyandfries, @three-drink-amy, @petrodobreva, @myheartalivewrites, @nontoxic-writes, @leaves-of-laurelin, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @celaestis1, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, @nicijones, @thetamehistorian, @jettestar, @ikeepwatchinghelicopters, @heytheredeann, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @mirilyawrites, @dewdropreader and an open tag for anyone who wants to do it! (sorry if you get multiple tags on this one, tumblr was being a bitch)

[sanguinarysanguinity]

Tagged by @verecunda, thank you! I've lost track of who has been tagged, so please jump in if you'd like to play!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

176, give or take a few that are in currently anonymous collections.

2. What's your total AO3 wordcount?

737,590

3. What fandoms do you write for?

My current main fandoms are the Hornblower novels and The Flight of the Heron. But I also write one-offs as please me, either for exchange assignments or pinch-hits, or because I got bit by a plot bunny. (Yes, plot-bunnies are carnivorous!) This year, I've written for Hornblower (novels and TV), The Flight of the Heron, Vokosigan Saga, Elementary, ACD Holmes, Leverage, A Rip Through Time, and Wild Things (1998).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Sincerity of Dust (Mycroft/Lestrade - Sherlock TV) Etta Candy's Last Stand (Etta Candy/Wonder Woman) Three Continents and Many Nations (Elementary gen; Joan Watson has broken hearts around the world) Baker Street Papas (Holmes/Watson, kidfic) Foundations (Elementary gen; Bell-centric fixit AU)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, because I was taught to write thank you notes. Also, because sometimes I can lure a commenter into a conversation, which is always fun -- and sometimes they even become a friend.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Heh. *rubs hands gleefully* I have a little sideline in fics that made people cry. Let me show you some of my favorites!

The Golden Sand Bush/Hornblower Once again a prisoner of the French, Hornblower awaits his execution.

Cock on the Right background Bush/Hornblower/Maria For as long as he bears them, Bush's tattoos protect him faithfully.

Telling the Bees Elementary gen Sherlock returns from Switzerland, but Watson does not.

Brandy and Soda Holmes & Watson; Mary/Watson (7 Per-Cent Solution) Holmes returns to Baker Street.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh, fuck if I know. I've been accused more than once of writing only bittersweetly happy endings. But here, have a story in which Horatio Hornblower, that sad wet miserable bastard, is simply happy for a day:

Nothing So Much Worth Doing

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not often. Earlier this year a commenter objected to a pwp being a pwp. Which. Dude. As a later commenter replied (so I didn't have to! blessings on their house!), the story was exactly what it said in the tags and summary, so take some personal responsibility and don't click on what you don't want to read.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. Slash, femslash, threesomes; vanilla and kinky; realistic and fantastical; first times and well-seasoned olds. I haven't yet written anything that would bring the antis after me, but that's the kind of thing that I'd put under a different pseud anyway.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Absolutely. Probably Elementary x Bee-Man Comics: THE BEST BEE FIC ON MARS.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had a couple requests this year for permission to translate a story (both granted), but I don't know the current status of either project.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

@phoenixfalls and I have a story we've been co-writing; every once in a while we talk about finishing it. I'd very much like to; I think it's great fun.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Pass.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a Twin Peaks x Buffy crossover that I quite like, but which I am extremely unlikely to ever finish. Every now and then I think of it wistfully, though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Well-organized and precise prose, and strong characterizations.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Inelegant prose, and wobbly characterizations.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

An insidious trap, if your characters speak the other language better than you do. (With the exception of William Bush in French, they always do! Why do I write all these classically-educated assholes?)

My usual solution is to paraphrase the dialogue through my pov character, at whatever their level of comprehension is. After all, that's what the reader needs to know: what the pov character understands. Paraphrasing also circumvents the wild card that some of my readers will know the language and some won't -- this way, no reader has an advantage and no reader is left scrambling for a translation.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ask Dr. Eldritch! a webcomic written by the talented evannichols.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Whichever one someone just left a lovely comment on.

[romanarose]

Steven Helping with Family Problems

Steven Grant X GN!reader

Summary: after a fight with your dad, Steven is there for you.

A/N: I probably won't even put this on my master list unless it pops off but I was feeling weird about my relationship with my dad and just needed to write out a thing.

*************

“Hullo love! Welcome home, how was work tod-” Steven stopped as soon as he realized you were on the phone. He could tell right away from your body language you were on the phone with your dad.

“No, dad, I get it, I just-.... Mhm… Yeah I get what your saying, the money is good but- dad, I like what I do- yeah. Yeah. No, yeah, no I get what you’re say-.... Mmmhm. Well, I would like to have a regular schedule too, Steven and I want kids so- Can you please let me finish my thought? Dad, please…. Dad, stop, don’t talk about him like that. No, listen- I’m not going on a date, dad. I’m engaged! I don’t have an attitude!”

Steven watched you pace the living room as he continued cooking dinner. You dadn’t even looked at him. Phone calls with your dad always stressed you out.

“I get what you’re saying, but I’m happy, I’m happy doing- yes, it is important! I was miserable in law-” You felt the tears you’d been fighting the whole phone call home. You glance over to see Steven, his warm smile immediately comforting you. You find a little bit of strength. “Dad, I’m not leaving my job, and I’m marrying Steven, and you can either be okay with it or be out of my life.” 

You hung out.

Dread surged through you as you dropped your phone. “Oh fuck why did I do that.”

Steven was on you before you even registered him moving. “Darling? Are you okay?” All he saw was you dropping your phone.

“He’s gonna fucking kill me” You throw your arms around him to steady yourself against your fiance. “I hung up the the p-phone he was- he wasn’t listening to m-m-me and I couldn’t fucking take it, I tried to talk to him but- b-ut he wouldn’t listen.” You started crying in his arms, Steven holding up your shaky frame.

“Oh love, it’s alright, c’mere, let’s sit down” He guiding you on to the couch, letting you cry out your frustration. 

You frozen when you heard your phone buzzing again.

As you dove for the phone, ready to apologize and take it all back and smooth it over. Steven grabbed the phone first, hanging up on your dad. For the next few minuets, the phone rang and buzzed with texts from your dad that Steven kept away from you, hanging up on him every time your dad tried to call.

You clung to Steven, gently crying waiting for it to end. Eventually, it stopped, Steven feeling your rapid heartbeat slowing down. He stroked your hair as he spoke. “You did so good darling, standing up for yourself, I’m so proud of you.”

You shook your head. “I was being rude. He’s right, I always have an attitude with him, I wasn’t hearing him out.”

Steven wanted to interrupt you the moment you said your dad was right. But he wasn’t your dad. You could finish your sentences, you could say how you felt with him. “He’s absolutely not right, darling, you are nothing but patient when you talk to him, even if he’s being awful. I’ve seen it time and time again. You’re one of the most pleasant, delightful people I know. You’re dad just doesn’t like people standing up to him.”

“What did he send in the text?” You mutter.

Steven glanced at them. They weren’t good. He wanted to delete them so you never saw them… but he wasn’t your dad. He wouldn’t do what your dad did in high school, he wouldn��t control the things you saw and who you had access to. You were an autonomous person capable of making your own choices.

“Let’s deal with it after dinner, yeah? I made some soup. We can eat that and then deal with your dad after a little break?”

Wiping your tears on your sleeve, taking some make up with it, you smile a little. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

When Steven brought over the soup to you on the couch, he handed you a hearty bowl. “Could you tell me what he was calling about?”

You gave a small eye roll, feeling more like yourself. “He thinks I’m making a mistake switching to teaching. Says it doesn’t make enough money, wants me to go back to paralegal work.”

Steven blinked back at that. “Oh god, darlings, no, don’t do that.” He shook his head vigorously. “You were bloody miserable doing that! Drank yourself to sleep every night. You were so exhausted you kept falling asleep in the bathtub.”

You took his hand reassuringly. “I won’t Steven. I let my dad pressure me into law because I thought it would make him proud of me, but even that wasn’t enough. I won’t let him pressure me into that again…” You look at him, lovingly. “I won’t let him pressure me away from you.” Careful with the soup, you give him a quick peck on the cheek. 

Steven softly smiled at you. “I heard you say something about a date?”

You snicker at the thought. “Yeah, he tried to get me to go on a date with his friend a few years ago. Said he’s single again.”

Despite his irritation, he laughed. Not much could make him question your love for him. “He has some audacity when you’re engaged to Jake Lockley”

Nudging him, you continue teasing. “You telling me you wouldn’t fight for my honor?”

Steven scooched closer, wrapping an arm around you. “Oh, I most definitely would, but Jake? Jake would kill for you.”

You laugh, remembering how many times Jake offered (only half joking) to get rid of your dad. You and Steven spend the evening on the couch together, leaving your phone there when you went to bed, deciding to leave the drama with your dad for the morning. You had meant what you said. He could either become okay with they way you lived your life and the men you loved, or he could go.

Because Steven, Marc, and Jake? They were your forever.

*************

I hope y'all liked it even if Its just a lil thing i pumped out super fast in one go.

[bloody-wonder]

I found this interesting books ask :

https://www.tumblr.com/dnana-2809-blog/749706502296813568/bookish-asks?source=share

Do you mind if I ask, no. 13, 14, 15, 18, and 50? Thanks...😁

thank you! i love talking about books :)

13. name a book with a really bad movie/tv adaption.

i just finished another book by celeste ng so the one that springs to mind right away is little fires everywhere. imo ng's biggest strength is that she writes about identity politics in a very accessible but nuanced way and the show adaptation just took all that nuance and threw it out of the window. my personal little nitpick is that they turned the mc who is aroace-coded in the book into a bisexual. yes, one could argue that her ruminating on how she can't help her daughter deal with romantic heartbreak bc she has never been in love herself is just a throwaway line but it's one of those lines that completely reframes the character and makes everything we learned about her make more sense in hindsight - that is, if you're open to seeing someone as aroace. if not, as a reader, you will assume she has probably had relationships which she just never mentions bc they're not relevant to the story (see: dumbledore rollerblading in every scene). as a showrunner, you will fill in those alleged gaps in her romantic and sexual life with bisexual drama which will give you more content for the show's runtime, if nothing else. so that is an interesting example of aroace erasure - it's not intentional but the fact that a person's deliberate lack of love life is something they, consciously or not, decided just not to represent speaks to a larger problem with aroace rep. if you straightwash a queercoded character people will likely notice. if you allo-wash an aroace-coded character no one will even blink.

14. name a book where the movie/tv adaption actually was better than the original.

i can't think of one that is better than the original off the top of my head but there are some adaptations i'm attached to much more than i like their source materials. the lord of the rings movies, for example. a re-read of the series i did a few years ago proved to be a slog but the movies will forever remain a special quality time i can share with my dad. the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy is another example. i know for a fact that the fans of the book don't like the adaptation but i'm biased bc it's one of my comfort movies and i don't get why the book is supposed to be better, despite having read it two times🤷‍♀️

15. what book changed your life?

all for the game changed my life bc by reading it and becoming part of the fandom i have discovered the aroace spectrum and realized i'm on it (on the far end of it, in fact lol). i'm pretty certain the same couldn't have happened via just learning about asexuality from some educational materials bc neil's headspace and the subsequent frustration with how he got twisted in fanon were essential for my aroace awakening🖤🩶🤍💜💚

18. which character from a book is the most like you?

lol idk. i think if i encountered a character who is a lot like me it would make me so uncomfortable i'd erase this from my memory immediately. so instead of an answer please kindly accept this meme i made for my friends and draw your own conclusions😅

50. why do you love to read?

i read for escapism. that's why entertainment and immersion are the main two factors that make or break a book for me. granted, i have weird tastes and often find entertaining the things other readers find boring and vice versa. and i like when fiction is so immersive i can feel my soul leave my body and get transported to a different world, a different life. bc of this one might think i yearn for adventure but that's not true - i love my boring life and i love the illusion of control one has as a reader compared to the lack of control one often experiences irl: if the adventure is not to my liking i can simply close the book.

bookish asks

[lacenvs3000w24]

ENVS*3000 season finale - the sunset post🌤

a sunset pic I took during some sacred cottage time on West Lake near Picton, ON

As the course and the semester come to a close, it feels entirely appropriate that we finish this journey off with some mildly existential thoughts about our ethics as interpreters. I think the fact that I’m also in the process of finishing up my degree has me squirreling out a bit as the cherry on top of this introspection.

While we’ve done a lot of soul-searching over this semester, I think one thing has remained, one thing is evergreen — when I think about nature, I think about serenity, peace, sanctuary. I believe that time in nature has the power and (as fantastical as it sounds) the energy to offer healing. It gives space for a quieter mind, a more peaceful soul. Even as I write these words, the stem student in me is cringing a bit - I have no concrete sources to back up these claims!!

But that points to something invaluable that this course has given me — the leeway to not focus solely on the data and the quantitative and the cold-hard-ness of science, and to instead lean into the interpretation, to focus on the feelings and think about what they mean.

I mean, yeah, I believe in science, I believe in its place, and I love what it’s given me: the knowledge and means with which to explore questions and attain answers. But in interpretation, science can’t stand alone.

I believe in art. Interpretation needs art the same way humans do. Not for some absolutely practical or functional purpose, but for an added layer, added interest, added connection to the natural wonders around us. I believe in the duality of nature and think that the point of interpretation should be to explore that push-and-pull relationship between science and art.

Now as for my responsibilities as an interpreter. I thought a lot about this question early in the course. In the beginning, I think I was intimidated by the idea that everyone must be pleased, must be included. And I know that dismissing the idea that “everyone should be included” can come across as harsh. But I think that I landed on the idea that it’s important to strike a balance between doing everything you can AND “staying in your lane”, as it were.

It’s hard to be everything all at once, and we can’t be. It’s valid to have the desire to accommodate every single person, but what is the cost there? What is the end product once you’ve spread yourself so thin? It doesn't mean giving up, in any sense, but instead highlighting your own abilities and lifting up others who fill in those gaps. It's about the net result, it's about interpretation as a community.

But to be an interpreter inherently puts you in a position of authority, of leadership - and that can be daunting.

So I approach this question a little differently now. Yes, I have the responsibility of providing valuable content to people in a way that respects their stories and their backpacks. I have the responsibility of putting out work that I am proud of, as to not take peoples' attention for granted. But up front, I have a responsibility that harkens back to acknowledging myself, my strengths and individuality as an interpreter.

This line of thought sparked questions not like

“how do I make my content valuable to every person?” or “how do I make sure everyone is happy and accommodated?”

but instead

“what can I realistically provide in a valuable way? which is the audience that will truly benefit from what I can offer, and how can I make sure that I am putting my focus there?”

The answers to these questions are still being sorted out, I think.

Still, I do know that I am more inclined to cater to the artistic- and abstract- inclined. I don’t necessarily see myself on the cold-hard-science side of academia. As a science student, I’ve pushed a passion for art aside in a lot of ways.

And it’s a tad cheesy, I’d admit, but this course has pushed me to think about why that is, and to imagine reintegrating art. Everything is still a little foggy, but there is a semblance of a clear path, or a few of them. Something in the realm of the visual arts, or even an increased focus on less technical writing feels like my fit.

silly little doodle i did

Thinking about how I could approach nature interpretation, I’m brought back to the ideas about learning styles that we touched on earlier in the course. I mulled it over and landed on the fact that I like working alone, and need it to some extent, and I’m coming to terms with the fact that that doesn’t have to be forever. This stage is about self-discovery, for the purposes that I’ve mentioned – offering true value to the audience that would benefit the most. It’s about exploring myself as an interpreter, the things I have to offer, and giving myself time and space to do so.

But I am passionate about the intimate link between people and nature, and I care about sharing this passion with other people. And again, I think that art is a perfect realm for this sort of work. Building community is part of the art world, but so is introspection and individuality. It offers both sides of the coin: time spent alone with the craft, the creation, and time spent sharing what you discovered and made in that time.

While I’d love to have shared some really confident and concrete answers to these questions, I think the best thing I can do right now is be honest about the uncertainty, about the possibilities, and the little bits of self-assuredness that I do hold with me right now, and carrying on this journey of discovery in spite of it.

If you’ve made it this far into this post (by choice or obligation), I really truly want to say THANK YOU. This was a pretty self-centered entry and sharing all these thoughts has been cathartic, to say the least.

[jjungkooksthighs]

OH MY GOD THE NEW CHAPTERRRDNDNDNSNKSKDKEJNSNCMSMLSLWOEYYEIWISHDBWBNSKSIWJWU I AM SCREAAAAAAAAAMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!???????!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!! ////!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /!!! I honestly have no words to describe how this story and each chapter make me feel. I always feel so immersed in the story, the way you write is absolutely wonderful and so so so amazing. I love them and I love this story and I love how you write. I was not expecting that!! I knew I could trust jk's abilities but um sir😳 is it wrong if I say that was hot? 🧐 and tae ans yoongi had it coming at that point, I mean... yikes. and oc, oh poor lovely oc I love her. I have a question if I may, what does oc's grandmother think about jk and him being oc's mate? 👀 I can't! wait! to see them finally be together🤭🥰 very excited for the next chapters. thank you for always sharing your talent with us. I hope you have an awesome day! 🥰🥰💗💗

I am pleased to know you enjoyed it! Truthfully, I was nervous about writing fight scenes because I haven’t really ever done that before. I had tried to play around with a different sequences, but ultimately decided on the one you see. I had some very worried people last chapter that thought the worst had happened to Jungkook! It was hard not to give anything away.

Jungkook is nothing if not ruthless, however. He always has been. Your statement about that ruthlessness making him vicious and being hot? Those are my sentiments EXACTLY. It’s attractive to see such strength and confidence in a person and I tried to give him that in this story. Granted, the real Jungkook is as cocky as alpha!kook is, so I suppose I’m really just kind of modeling alpha Jungkook after irl Jungkook in a way. Those things make him hot. I agree.

Yoongi and Tae definitely had it coming. That Jungkook didn’t have to shift (until the end) showcases how strong he really is. He didn’t need to shift to beat them. And that he had Yoongi deliver the finishing blow to Taehyung only displays his power even further in that he didn’t even have to lift a finger to deliver ultimate defeat to them both.

As far as grandma goes, you can actually find that answer earlier in the story. She’s very supportive of them and wants nothing more than for her granddaughter to be mated to not only the strongest wolf in the pack, but the leader is it as well. She believes (rightly) that Jungkook is reader’s soulmate, which is rare even among wolves. That is why their scents are so irresistible to each other. It is why both of them have eyes that change to the color of the other when they summon those characteristics/strengths of their counterparts.

Grandma is very much approving of Jungkook. She fully believes he’ll take care of reader.

I’m sure you’re just chomping at the bit to see them mate. While that won’t happen next chapter, you will see some spice that will lead into that. As I said in another ask, I have a very specific series of events I have planned before they mate. I think you guys will like what I have in store for you. :)

Thank you for your kind message. I wish you guys knew how much those make my day!

[fakesaintess]

Written Out Regrets

Summary: Another part in the Tweels of Evil. Azul plays a much larger role in this story which dives into the past of the three, their wishes, and the future of Floyd. Another part in this au like the others it can also be found here.

As the sun sets over the ocean, a boy stands alone at the harbor on the outskirts of a small town. He once went by the name Floyd, but that had been lost on the day everything ended.

Staring out at the sea he's seen before he thinks back to the last time he had come to this place.

"I figured you'd like a taste of freedom considering how many royal duties you have. You don't need to thank me." Azul said, walking ahead of Floyd and Jade as the three went out on a trip.

Floyd quirked an eyebrow. "There's no way you thought of this." Azul was certainly crafty but something whimsical like running off to explore was beyond him.

Azul feigned shock. "Do you have so little faith in me you don't believe I can do things out of the kindness of my heart?"

"Kinda." Floyd responded.

Azul breaks into a grin. "It seems I have a reputation. Jade was the one who thought of it but I finalized the plans on how to get you out unnoticed."

"I've also picked where we're heading. Run ahead if you'd like to get the first look." Jade said and before he had finished speaking Floyd had run on ahead.

"This some sort of beach?" Floyd shouted loud enough that his voice carried to the two he'd left behind.

Jade grabbed Azul's wrist and dragged him along, forcing him into a run so they could catch up to Floyd. "Wait! Wait! I'm not a runner!" Azul pleaded which Jade ignored, continuing to drag Azul to their destination.

When the two arrive on the beach, Floyd had already kicked off his shoes and was splashing in the water. "There's beaches closer to where we normally are. Why'd we go all the way out here?"

"Because." Jade said, pulling some items out of the bag he had slung over his shoulder. He holds out writing materials and three glass bottles. "There is a tradition here that has all but been lost to time. If you write your wish on parchment, place it in a small bottle, and throw it into the ocean one day your wish may come true."

"Seems like litterin' to me." Floyd said as he walked over to the others.

"Relying on traditions to grant wishes is a ridiculous plan, Jade. I can grant any wish you want for the right price." Azul's behavior was somewhat cocky, but, for someone so accomplished, this is not unwarranted.

"Don't put up such a fuss. This may be the last time we all can get together like this so I've organized this outing to be special. We can make our wishes together." Jade handed out the materials needed for "a wish" to the other two boys.

"Guess we can indulge ya." Floyd said, scribbling out a wish and jamming it into the bottle.

Azul and Jade take more time to write but soon enough, they're standing at the water's edge. "Can I count down to when we toss them?" Floyd asked as they were readying to throw.

"Understood. Please lead the way." Jade answered.

"Threeee, twooo, onezero!" Floyd rushed the counting at the end and tossed his bottle in before the other two had their chance.

"Hey! That's cheating!" Azul said, quickly tossing his bottle in after Floyd's as Jade simply laughed at Floyd's antics. Jade then follows suit, tossing his bottle into the sea.

The three stare out at the bottles bobbing in the water, drifting towards the golden sunset.

"You're not great at throwing things, Azul. Think you should take up strength training." Floyd said.

"I don't need to. That won't aid me in any way." Azul scoffed.

"What did you two wish for?" Jade asked, ending the blooming squabble between Floyd and Azul.

"There was this cool pair of shoes I saw in a shop window. I wished for those." Floyd answered.

"You don't need a wish for that, Floyd. You can easily procure those." Azul said, "I wished for all my desires to be sated."

"Think that wish is too demanding." Floyd looked over to Jade, "What'd you wish for?"

"Me? Why, I wished that Floyd would stop growing so I can become taller than him." Jade replied with a wide smile.

"That ain't what you wished for. You wrote a lot more than that. C'mon, spill it. What'd ya really write?" Floyd pestered Jade.

"If you're that curious, I'll relent. I wished that Floyd's life will be filled with smiles." Jade said.

"There's no way that's your wish either." Floyd had said.

Now, standing on the shore by himself, Floyd believes that is what Jade had wished for. Jade had devoted his life to seeing that Floyd's life was fulfilling. In return, Floyd saw his past self as a selfish nuisance who did not realize his mistakes until it was too late. The sins were Floyd's but Jade had paid the price.

Jade, who had made his every wish and whim come true, is now gone so Floyd depends on the sea to grant his wish. As tears dripped down his face, he threw his bottle into the sea. He watches the bottle that contains his wish, and more so, his regrets drift out to sea. It disappears into the golden sunset the way the trio's wishes had all those years ago.

The water lapped at Floyd's ankles as he continues looking out at the sea. "If only we could be reborn…"

"Floyd?" A hand on his shoulder withdrew him from his daydreams. Had someone found out who he was? Had Jade's efforts been for nothing? He slowly turned around to face the person who had called out to him.

Although the person's face was marred by scars, Floyd could still recognize who it was. "Azul?"

[dragonsarecool]

June of Doom Day 26 - Choke

A/N: Apologies for the delay in finishing! Ended up becoming quite ill after my holiday which sucked. I have two chapters left to write and then the rest will be published all at once :)

A/N: Needles uses force to get his point across. Set prior to Part I.

He would've given anything to call in sick for his shift tonight.

Though the fact that he couldn't really talk at this point would've hindered the call part of his plan. Why does Needles have to be such an asshole? My voice had almost come back…

Marty swallowed painfully as he gave a polite knock on the scientist's front door. Please be out please be out please be out-

"Come in, Marty!"

Dammit.

He fumbled with the lock purposely in a vain attempt to draw out the inevitable confrontation, slipping the spare key back under the mat. The last thing he wanted to hear Doc ranting about today was how he needed to stop taking shit from Needles and his group of misfits, and to finally stand up for himself.

He'd gotten an earful of that already from Jennifer during lunch.

He didn't tell her what had happened initially. Granted, he couldn't speak anyway, but he was hoping he could play it off as a flare-up of the laryngitis he'd spent the previous week fighting. If anything, it was a blessing that his parents were too absorbed in their latest spat to ask him how school was going, meaning the rest of his family were oblivious to his current condition.

That is, until Jennifer noticed the fingerprints around his throat. Her mouth had dropped in a whispered gasp, her nails delicately tracing along the faint bruises adorning his neck.

He wasn't sure if her tears or her terrified ranting was worse.

"Marty? Are you alright?"

The teenager snapped back to reality, remembering that he'd been waiting on Doc's doorstep, with the man in question having seemingly appeared in front of him. He didn't even get to open his mouth before the questions started flying. "My God, Marty, you look terrible! Have you not been sleeping again?"

Ironically enough, Doc, I haven't been.

How could he, when all he'd been dreaming about for five days was Needles?

How Needles's friends had jumped him after school and pinned him against his own locker.

How the scumbag himself had squeezed and caressed his throat like a stress ball, refusing to let go until he'd been forced to acknowledge he was the son of a coward.

How Needles had laughed hysterically at his swollen, bloated face while he gasped for air, trying to fight against the curtain of blackness creeping at the edges of his vision.

If anything, he was glad that it happened on a Friday. It meant he didn't have to look at his own locker for a couple of days and relive the moment so soon after its occurrence.

He was also grateful that his mother was blackout drunk when he'd finally summoned the strength to pull himself off of the corridor floor and skate back home. It'd meant he was able to sprint straight to his bedroom, where he'd essentially quarantined himself for the weekend.

Though Doc didn't seem to have noticed his predicament, he was still uneasy. He can't talk forever; eventually he'll ask me something.

I really don't want to tell him. Maybe he won't notice?

"No no no, there is definitely no work happening today. Come on in, Marty. Grab yourself a Pepsi; I've just restocked the fridge," Doc left the door open, making his way towards the kitchen. "I'm not feeling too great myself; Einstein was up howling half the night because of those damn kids from up the road. My God, parents these days can be so oblivious about their children…"

Marty followed his friend silently, his fatigue-ridden eyes cast down. You don't say, Doc…

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Breakfast

gif by @paper-n-ashes

summary: marc interrupts you when you’re trying to make breakfast, and steven finishes up.

pairing: fem!reader x marc spector, fem!reader x steven grant

content: 18+/nsfw/MINORS DNI, pwp, fluff, kissing, unprotected sex, breeding kink, overstimulation if you squint, oral sex (fem receiving) cum eating

an: i just felt like writing something spicy for the moonknight boys <3.

word count: 1.6k

moonknight masterlist | requests are open

One of your favorite things to do is get up early and sit on the window sill, watching the streets of London while Marc or Steven sleeps. There's something about the glow of the summer sun peeking out from behind the clouds. You don’t sit for long, wanting to make sure they get the rest. Before the sun can flood the space with its golden light you close the window and draw the curtains, heading into the kitchen.

You preheat the oven to keep his food warm in case he sleeps late, and get coffee brewing—decaf only as they already have enough trouble getting enough rest. It’s been an adjustment for you, but you’d do anything for Marc and Steven. With the soft hum of the coffee machine going, you start getting together the ingredients for french toast and hashbrowns.

You’re moving slowly so as not to wake them up though your room is down the hall. Completely immersed in cutting bread and making the mixture for the french toast you don’t hear when Marc opens your bedroom door and pads down the hallway to you.

His hands are on you as soon as you're in arms' reach. A grunt of pleasure comes out of him as he runs his hands over the curves of your breasts before resting them on your hips.

“Morning,” You lean your head back onto his shoulder as he kisses his way down your neck.

“Mornin’,” He whispers between kisses. “French toast, huh?”

“Mhmm,” You hum lazily, dropping the whisk and planting your hands on the counter so that you can press further into him. You know exactly where this is going and there’s no point in resisting. It’s not like you want to anyway.

“Steven’s gonna be jealous.”

“I make it for him whenever, you both know that,” He continues to kiss your neck, scraping his teeth over your pulse point before he bites gently. “Marc,” You sigh, pressing your ass into his erection.

“Quiet, let me make you feel good, baby.”

“Yes,” You agree easily, breakfast forgotten as his hands make their way up the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing.

“You wanted me to come out here and fuck you didn’t you? Is that why you’re dressed in just this?”

“Yes,” You breathe as one of his hands slips into your panties, his fingers gliding effortlessly through your wet folds.

“Oh, baby, you’re so wet. So easy.”

“Mhmm,”

“Let’s see how easy it is for me to…” He stops talking as his fingers plunge into you. “Only this wet for me and Steven, right?”

“Yes, all yours. All his,” You nod your head feverishly, drunk on the smoothness of his tone and the strength of his touch. Marc always touches you with such weight compared to Steven. He leaves bruises from holding your thighs apart or applying pressure to your throat. His touch is life-affirming, keeping you in a bubble where you only focus on him. Right now he’s all that matters.

“Ours.”

“God, please, Marc? I need you,” You whine as you reach your hand back to run it through his curls.

His hand leaves your breast, turning your head so that you have to look at him. His eyes are uncharacteristically tender as he gazes at you, “I need you, too.”

The admission squeezes your heart but it’s short-lived as he wraps his hand around your throat, and rids you of your panties. He kisses you hungrily as he uses one of his feet to spread your legs further apart, bending you slightly so your spread open for him perfectly. He continues to lick into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip as he lines himself up with your entrance, snapping his hips forward so that he’s sheathed completely inside you.

“Baby,” He mumbles against your lips, his dark eyes blown full of lust.

“I know, it's so good, you're so good,” You murmur, taking his bottom lip between your teeth before sucking on it.

Your move almost sends him into a frenzy, the innate need to race to his climax flowing through his veins, but he has to get you there first, “You too.”

He starts slow, focusing on pulling himself out to just the tip before slamming into you. You push all of the ingredients to the side so that you can bend over completely, your nipples rubbing against the cold counter through the shirt every time he’s deep inside of you. His grip on your hips is deliciously tight— it almost hurts, and you know that Steven will grill him for the bruises that'll form in the coming days.

Eventually, he starts to pick up his pace but he doesn't sacrifice the depth, fucking you hard and fast and deep. You're incredibly wet and warm, your pussy practically sucking him in, your trembling under his heavy touch. The kitchen is filled with nothing but the wet squelch of his cock entering you over and over and mingled heavy breathing. You start to rock back against him, effectively pushing the tip of him into your cervix. It's the perfect mix of pain and pleasure and you bite down on your arm, hiking your leg back and around his waist so that he can somehow get even deeper.

You wonder what it looks like, him fucking you this harshly, his nails digging into your skin so hard that he might break skin. You know that his eyebrows are drawn together, his mouth agape and turned as he concentrates on how warm and tight your pussy is around his cock. His eyes probably are zeroed in where you connect, his chest heaving and glistening with sweat.

You on the other hand are flush against the cool counter, doing the only thing you can: taking what he's giving you. The pleasure is building in you steadily, as you greedily push your hips back against his.

The softest, filthiest, words of praise leave his lips, “You feel so fucking good, you’re perfect. My perfect little slut, made just for me. I can have you however and whenever I want, can’t I?”

“However and whenever,” You repeat, and he lips turn in a devilish smile.

“You’re everything to me.”

His words take you by surprise, tugging at your heartstrings once more. You open your mouth to say something back but then he bends forward so that his chest is flush with your back, and you clench around him a new threshold of pleasure met from this angle, “Fuck, Marc.”

“You can take it,” He declares, it isn't a question; all you can do is whine beneath him, your words of agreement stuck in your throat as you move closer to your orgasm. “Say it.”

“I can take it,” You murmur, trying your best to keep pushing back against him though there's no space between you.

“Yeah, you can baby,” He praises, planting a kiss on your sweaty forehead.

“Will you cum inside me? Please?”

“You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, please baby,” If you had the mind to care you would cringe at how desperate you sound.

“Fill you up so much and we can watch it drip out of you,” His voice is low, gravelly in your ear.

The image of him and Steven looking at your pussy while it's messy and full sends a shiver down your spine. “Mhmm,” You whimper, turning your head to give him a sloppy kiss.

“Cum for me first baby, and I’ll fill up this sweet little pussy of yours.”

He continues to pound into you like his life depends on it and before you know it you’re coming undone, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. As soon as he hears the telltale gasp leave your throat he snakes his hand between you and the counter, rubbing harsh circles into your clit to intensify and prolong your release. If he wasn’t keeping you pinned between him and the counter you would collapse to the ground, your body turned to jelly from the sheer amount of pleasure that radiates through your entire body.

He doesn’t stop as you clench around him, driving himself as deep as he can get. It's all he can think about, reaching the furthest part of you, so he can breed you thoroughly. Standing upright again he brings you with him, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other one getting you steady as he fucks you brutally. He thrusts into you with a deep, guttural groan before stilling, and you feel the warmth of his cum fill you to the brim. His hips pull back before he snaps them forward again, wanting to fuck his cum as deep inside of you as possible.

Abruptly he pulls out of you, and drops to his knees, his hands splaying you open to watch his cum seep out of you. With no warning his mouth is on you, sucking at your clit and lapping at your center to collect his own cum. His groans are constant and filled with a hunger that quickly brings you to your second orgasm. This one is quick and just as powerful as the first, your pussy fluttering around nothing, and he continues to eat you until the moans stop ripping from your throat.

Turning you around, he scoops you up bridal style before carrying you over to the couch. His hands rub up and down your arms as he peppers kisses over your face, waiting for you to recover from your second release.

You’re effectively useless, your breathing still heavy. You feel like you’re spinning, up in the clouds, the only thing grounding you is his warm touch. When you finally feel like you’ve returned to earth, you clear your throat and look up at the man before you with heavy lids, “Steven, I know it’s you.”

A cheeky smile spreads across his face as he leans in to kiss you, “How’d you know it was me, dove?”

“You have that kink, not Marc…at least not yet.”

Steven just laughs before dipping his head to steal more kisses from you. You kiss him back happily for several moments, the kisses wet and slow before you realize that you were doing something before you were interrupted by them.

“Wait, Stevie, I was cooking breakfast,” You pull away, glancing over at the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about it dear, you just lay here and I’ll finish it up.”

“But it’s your favorite, I should make it.”

“I think you’ve done enough for us today, yeah?” His hand raises to caress your face affectionately before cupping your cheek.

You nod softly, a smile pulling at your lips, “Yeah, okay.”

“I love you, always. Marc too,” He says firmly, pressing his forehead to yours.

Steven’s love confessions always lift you out of the misty, but welcome fog that is Marc and the way he carries himself. If Marc is intense, brooding, and drawing you in, then Steven is light and airy— he’s bright and clear. They’re the perfect pair, a balance that you’re extremely grateful for.

In your tiredness from the intense sex, you feel your eyes grow a bit teary, your voice thick with emotion, “I love you too, both of you.”

if you’d like to be on my moonknight taglist, let me know!

moonknight taglist: @laurensprentiss, @angelfxllcm, @in-between-the-cafes, @honeybrowne, @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch

[opaljm]

i. legend of the lamp (m) – jjk

➺ pairing: genie!jungkook x female reader

➺ genres/tropes: fluff; humor; smut; fantasy au; magic au; strangers to lovers

➺ warning/content tags: 18+; explicit sexual content: female masturbation (solo shower time activities, pro anal enthusiast y/n she wants it SOO bad but is very deep in denial); underwater sexual activities plz do not attempt at home you might drown (kissing, fingering, multiple orgasms, boob kink jeon makes his debut, he likes to bite and make it hurt but he also likes to kiss it better); sex in public (jungkook is an exhibitionist freak, y/n and jungkook give the ‘mile high’ club a new meaning, very mild food play, mean cocky jungkook shows up as expected, jjk's dirty talk is UNMATCHED, gross nasty jeon with the spit/licking kink, overstimulation, orgasm denial, the slightest bit of breath play/choking kink, impregnation kink is mentioned, possessive attention whore jungkook); sloppy cunnilingus with too much teeth tbh, finger fucking, there’s almost fisting but they both wimped out— there's always next time tho ;), forced orgasms, big dick hung like a fucking stallion jeon jungkook, unprotected sex but its fine cuz koo is a genie with fetus deletus powers, spanking, soft dom jk who degrades y/n like a CHAMP if it were a contest he would be winning a gold medal for it, jungkook likes to punish y/n until she can’t even think straight, standing up sex courtesy of strength demon jeon, praise thirsty competitive af constantly wanting validation jungkook, they both have a size kink let’s be real, reader has a strength kink throughout this entire fic she just wants to be manhandled and thrown around like she’s jungkook’s pretty sex doll, soft passionate sex, creampie, lovely aftercare from our cleaning fairy koo

➺ word count: 23k semi-edited but im too tired to actually do it properly :(

➺ summary: Jungkook has been serving his time as a genie for the last 2000 years, unfortunately stuck in a lamp for the last 200 years before he is woken from his slumber by a beautiful woman who somehow activates his lamp while making a wish that ends up letting him out. After eons of having to bend over backwards to make the desires of evil individuals from power hungry dictators to spoiled princesses come into fruition, he’s updated his contract to be more choosy over who the lamp allows to be his master. It comes to his great surprise that this woman was able to make the lamp work and that she only yearns to be loved and no longer be lonely. But all of the wishes he grants now have time constraints, another caveat he added to the contract, and he wonders what life would be like if he had never made that stupid rule. Because, as the week progresses, he finds himself falling deeper and deeper into her spell, pondering what it would be like if he never had to stop playing the role of her man. 

➺ author’s note: Sorry for disappearing after announcing a fic, I had a health scare which kind of had the domino effect of making me have a really shitty three weeks regarding my education and future and pulling me into a depressive episode (which yea turns out can be firmly blamed on the medication I've been taking because its a possible side effect). It's been a mess and a half but, I'm here, the fic's here (or half of it anyways). I hope you all enjoy it and leave some love 💕 Also, if I had known that all of that shit would’ve happened, I would’ve posted part one a lot longer ago, since you all know I had finished writing it a while back. I just kept holding out hope that I would be able to finish the entire fic in time but life got in the way of that. I hope that y’all don’t hold that against me too much! Part two will drop after Jimin’s birthday fic drop so I don’t fuck up that deadline as well! I’m under a lot of pressure as one of the hosts of his birthday collaboration. Please, please, please leave feedback for this story. Since it’s a two shot, your feedback is absolutely critical in helping my self-esteem about the direction of the story and flowing my creative juices for writing part two! 

This fic is a part of Namkook’s Moonrise Masquerade! Banner made by @kimtaehyunq​. Beta-read by @jimilter​ (miss girl helped out with the content warnings too we love her!), @ressjeon​, and @amourtae​ the lovely angels❣️

↳ second/final part | main masterlist

Today has just absolutely not been your day. 

It seems like things went off to a rough start from right when your morning began. You woke up late because your alarm clock hadn’t gone off, and in your hurry to leave for work this morning, you picked out your outfit for the day half asleep as you attempted to brush your teeth and comb through the unruly mess that was your bedheaded locks of hair. When you spit out that white cloud of mint flavored foam, it got on your peach colored lavallière top, staining the silk pussycat bow. 

You ended up wearing a too tight black with gray pinstripes pencil skirt you kept meaning to donate to Goodwill, but never quite got around to it, and a silky white blouse that you had loved when you thrifted but then later had realized that the abstract black lines that made up its designs were not flowers like you initially had thought but were rather depictions of nude female silhouettes. The shirt is lovely; it’s certainly a statement piece and one that would look great on you on most occasions and would make for a darling ‘outfit of the day’ post on Instagram, however it is not exactly workplace appropriate attire for the public university where you work as an admissions counselor. 

But even with that little kerfuffle, you had not been too stressed early on in the day. Oh, if only you knew how badly the rest of the day would continue to be. As you went out the door, you smartly thought of snatching your black peacoat off the coat hook in the entryway, which could be used to cover up the sexually deviant positions the ladies on your shirt were contorted into. You ended up needing it too, after a mishap at the coffee shop in the student union left you with dark coffee dripping down your torso and making your shirt transparent as it clung to you with the wet sugariness of the shaken espresso seeped with vanilla syrup. 

Things continued to go badly during your appointment with an incoming freshman and her parents who wanted to pull her out of the university because of the trouble she had gotten into over the summer after graduating from high school. Your heart goes out to the girl after remembering how badly that conversation had gone and how despite your best attempts, neither you nor she could sway her parents’ made up minds. You weren’t even able to convince them to change her enrollment to an off-campus one where she could commute from her parents house, whereas she was previously an on-campus student with a room in the freshmen dorms. They wanted her to pay for her actions by going to community college and getting a part time job.

Making matters worse, you had almost thrown up the 6-inch Subway tuna melt you had gotten and now as you walk home, in your pinching heels, too tight skirt, and your peacoat hiding your stained shirt, to your apartment just two miles away on the far end of the glittering and bustling university village that was adjacent to one of the largest and most vibrant cities in the country, it starts to drizzle.

Normally, you do not mind the rain. Of course, your previous attitude of the rain was based on the fact that you did not have too many experiences of being wet like a drowning rat, caught in the middle of the storm without an umbrella or any sort of protection while wearing shoes that were not that slip resistant. 

You sigh as you continue onwards, wondering if maybe you should duck into the Target that you are passing to buy an umbrella. But you already know that Target will be out of stock, like it always is out of stock during unexpected bouts of rain because the students buy out the umbrellas, even going so far as to making the overpriced ones in the student store, that are in the school colors and have the school’s mascot imprinted on them bold and center, out of stock. 

When you finally do get home, you leave your wet shoes on the mat you have just inside the entrance, toeing them off and exchanging them for your fuzzy pink bunny slippers that are not only soft and dry but a huge and warm comfort to your freezing feet. You scamper your way to the opposite side of the apartment, sliding the glass doors that lead to the balcony open, and you hang your coat off of the backs of one of your iron outdoor chairs for it to dry, or at least keep it from dripping all over your apartment. 

You debate whether you should take your clothes off on the balcony too. You’re not afraid of university students seeing you; your apartment is out of most of their price ranges except for the richest of them all, but even knowing that, you don’t have a lot of fear since half of your balcony is covered in thin mesh privacy netting. The half of your wraparound balcony that is exposed to the elements is the part of it that you can access from your bedroom’s sliding doors as well. Not wasting another second, you quickly shed the offending articles of clothing off, just standing there in your fuzzy slippers and a matching black pair of Sabrina panties and brassiere from Honey Birdette. You regret your decision instantly as the transparent tulle and ribbons of lace do nothing to protect you from the blasts of wind causing the rain to drift your way but you fight through it. After letting those clothes hang to dry as well, you make your way back in, bypassing the living room to head straight for the shower. 

Your black underwear set clings to your body, you notice when you catch a glimpse of yourself of the giant mirror that takes over half the wall over your dual sink vanity. You see a figure with hardened plum colored nipples, covered in goosebumps, staring back at you. Her eyes widen from her surprise at how her body quivers even indoors and her hair is drying in messy curly tendrils around her ears. You look almost unrecognizable.

Flittering around the modern minimalistic styled bathroom, you busy yourself turning on the shower and waiting for the water to turn warm, as it always takes the pipes a moment to heat up. In the interim, you grab two fuzzy towels, one for your hair and one for your body, to throw over the glass partition of the shower since there are no conveniently placed towel racks. You also grab your fancy pink “cloud” face wash from the sink, which honestly does too little for its steep price point, in your opinion, and your A Thousand Wishes body cream from Bath & Body Works, that you had stocked up on during the summer semi-annual sale. 

By now, the water is finally hot enough and starting to steam up your bathroom a bit. You slide off your bra and step out of your panties before flinging them into the laundry hamper. Walking into the shower stall is a welcome respite after your long day. For a moment, you just stand there motionless, letting your eyes flutter shut as the showerhead jets water over you, soaking your hair completely and soothing your worn out exhausted muscles. You could pass out from comfort in the shower and that would be horrible but oh you understand now why some people are able to fall asleep in their baths. 

Your shampoo and conditioner bottles are the pump kind so you don’t need to put in too much effort to squeeze out the peony and amaretto scented ambery gold colored liquid into your cupped palm. Today is going to be a simple shower; you’re too drained to go into your whole hair routine with its scalp scrubs, serums, and hair masks, in addition to the usual shampooing and conditioning you do. When it's finally worked into your hair, making it foamy from how well you scrubbed it in, you let the shower wash your hands clean and let the suds disperse. 

Your shower gel is A Thousand Wishes scented too; you’re not the type to mix scents and give yourself a migraine when you can avoid it. Abandoning the loofah, you decide to run your soapy hands over your body for a quick clean. When your hands skim over your breasts and your long acrylic nude ombre nails catch on a nipple, instantly turning the already hard nub into a rock solid bullet, you stifle a surprised moan. Your mind whirls as you recover from the sensation. 

Even as fatigue clouds your mind, the world seems to get closer as your senses become hyperaware. Suddenly you can feel the cool stone underneath your feet that much more as your toes curl in pleasure from how it contrasts wonderfully with the warm water cascading over you. As your hands wander down your body, molding your palms against every curve and divot, the shower gel and water provides a nice lubrication, making it easy for you to slide your fingers over your body. You have to press harder to make your touches rougher, and the delicious friction that comes from those more frantic brushes make your voice catch in the back of your throat before it crawls its way up in the form of a delicious keen.

Oh, what you would do to have a gorgeous male manhandle you right now. You like it rough; you like a little bit of force that reminds you of the strength behind his muscles that you know he would never use on you but the idea that he could make your strength and size kinks come alive. Your hand now transverses over to your throat and you wrap your slim fingers around it, your long nails lightly scraping against the delicate flesh, relishing in the hold but sighing in frustration that your small weak hands can’t apply the pressure that you actually want. 

You’re single because the males you keep finding have no idea how to treat a woman in a way that makes her feel safe even when she wants to be utterly destroyed. A lot of it is based on trust and respect. The shitheads you meet? You wouldn’t even trust them to walk you home at night without angling for a kiss you don’t want to give. 

Abandoning the hand from your throat, you instead press your front side against the marble walls of the shower, pretending that it’s your lover who’s got you clinging to the damp stone and that his hands are dipping over your hips before going lower, wrapping themselves around your thighs in a way that has his thumbs pressing into the clefts of your asscheeks as he spreads them apart and the water from the shower flows into the puckering hole that is revealed. You hate the concept of anal sex but as one of your hands busy themselves in the front, plucking at your clit and fluttering across your folds as you tease yourself to the brink without any insertion, the other hand is working on your tight asshole, your thumb pressing onto it, flirting by only letting the tip of your thumb in before pulling away.

What you would do to have a big heavy cock stroke your ass, painting it with its precum, taunting the sensitive hole hidden between by pressing against it but not entering. Or for you to be on your tiptoes with your legs parted so that his cock could slide underneath, thrusting against the petaled furls of your pussy until he plunged into it from behind while you’re trapped between his warm slick body, his hard abdominal muscles and chest pressing against your back, and the cool marble, your nipples turning into stiffened peaks that are begging to be touched but finding no purchase against the slippery walls. It would feel almost claustrophobic, like you can’t move due to his delicious weight and like the only part of you that could move was your pussy, its walls clenching around him and clinging to him every time he slammed into you. 

With three fingers inside you, you can almost pretend that it’s real. Though, you know that at any moment you can move away since there's nothing actually trapping you into the position that you are in. You can’t finish though, your mind is your own mental prison, too cynical and realistic for its own good. You find yourself reaching up for the removable shower head and pulling it down. Your hand frantically clicks on the controls, increasing the water pressure. You debate if you want to do this standing up but you know that you will lose the feeling in your legs the second your explosive orgasm hits after being edged for so long. Thus, you slide down to a sitting position in your shower, your back against the wall, your legs folded up and spread apart as you position the showerhead right at your cunt, knowing that your clit will be getting the maximum pressure possible. 

You emerge from your shower ten minutes later with your legs feeling so jelly-like you have to grip at the walls to make it back to the sink to finish up your skincare routine and return the products that you had taken with you into the shower back to their original homes. 

When you feel squeaky clean and refreshed, bundled up in your favorite pajamas, a beige plaid set you had gotten as a white elephant present so they are very roomy and swamp your body, you finally deal with your wet work clothes properly and put them for a cycle in the dryer. You’ll likely have to deal with your Chinese Laundry peep toe pumps as well so that the leather doesn’t dry weirdly and make them crack in places but, that’s a concern for you in the future.

With a towel wrapped high around your head in a way that might end up giving you a receding hairline, if you don’t stop using that method to dry your hair soon, you step back into the main part of your apartment. Your eyes quickly go to the coffee table where it appears that your best friend had dropped something off while you were away at work.

There’s a bouquet of pink and white peonies that you immediately fix up in a vase with the proper amount of water, a square box covered in black matte wrapping paper with art deco style gold designs embedded into it, and lastly, a wine bottle in a gorgeous black and gold gift bag that compliments the wrapping on the box and has a matching envelope pinned to it. Before you sit back down on the plush comfort of your oat colored cloud sofa, you rip the envelope off from how it’s been stapled to the gift bag so that you can tear open the flap and get to the card inside. Reclining back, you narrow your eyes to read, having forgotten to grab your glasses from your bedroom dresser and having already taken off your contacts for the day:

Happy Birthday my darling Y/N! I hope that your 25th birthday is the most beautiful one to come so far! Wishing you nothing but blessings and good fortune on this beautiful day! Your present this year is one that surprised me as well but when I saw it, I was drawn to it instantly and the thought that it might be perfect for you abruptly flooded my mind! Can’t wait to hear your opinion on it!

Love, Safi

P.S. Don’t waste this wine by keeping it for a better day! Live in the now by cracking it open today and enjoying a birthday toast because today is just as important as whatever future occasion you’re trying to justify would be a better opportunity to enjoy the wine! (save the Sephora gift card for a rainy day though lol)

You laugh self-indulgently and look back inside the envelope where there is indeed a black $100 Sephora gift card before putting them all aside. You suppose you should listen to Safi’s advice even though today has not been a great birthday by any stretch of the words since it will be nice for you to unwind with a glass of wine. Pulling the bottle out you can see that it is a bottle of rosé, Gerard Bertrand Cote des Rosé to be precise, and the glassware is magnificent with the bottom of the bottle being designed in the shape of a rose with all its petals. 

The box lies unopened for now even if it’s your main present. You have too much of a one track mind and you immediately want to crack open the alcohol to let loose and make yourself forget about your day for just a little bit. You head for the kitchen cabinets and reach for the first drinking vessel you can grab, not too picky when it’s almost 11pm and you have to wake up at 6 in the morning. Perhaps Safi didn’t want you to drink the alcohol out of a coffee mug, in your most comfy sleepwear and a towel wrapped around your head, but it’s the best you can do at the moment. 

You nestle the bottle in the crook of your right arm, holding the mug in the same hand while grabbing the box with your left and taking all three objects out with you to the balcony. It takes you a little finagling to manage opening the sliding door but you soon make your way out where a light breeze brushes against your body comfortingly. Placing everything on the table you have outside, you head back in once more to grab your corkscrew from where it was misplaced in the junk drawer.

It’s not long before you’re back outside, sitting down and admiring the rainfall, which you are now able to appreciate since you are no longer soaking in it. It’s more of a light drizzle now and most of the clouds have dissipated, leaving only the thinnest types of stratus and stratocumulus clouds. In the heart of the city it’s impossible to make out any stars in the night sky due to the pollution and lights but you enjoy looking at the moon as you sip from your mug and let the rosé, which somehow managed to stay chilly all this time, slide down your throat. 

Your attention finally goes to the box and you carefully unwrap it, though you know that it will be unlikely that you will reuse the wrapping paper unless you take up scrapbooking again. Inside is a simple black colored cardboard gift box, and once you remove the top, you find yourself looking at a gorgeous antique looking hanji lamp though you know better than to think that Safi dropped money on an authentic Silla era lantern. You can’t even begin to imagine how much that would cost. Even still, as you turn over the rectangular structure in your hands, you find yourself musing that you would never dare to light the magnificent ornament. It was going to remain a purely decorative piece whose design and history you would appreciate from its place on one of your shelves. 

You find yourself holding it up to your face to get a closer look at all four paper sides of the wooden structure, squinting to make out the images painted on them though it’s difficult because you had forgotten to turn on your string lights and the moon is only a crescent, not providing much of a glow, so you are practically bathed in darkness. 

You scrunch up your forehead thinking of how nice it would be if you had better lighting, No sooner does the thought come across your mind, do you find yourself suddenly bathed in a luminous glow as a shooting star hurls across the inky black sky, painting it with a white blue streak of light. You have never in all of your years seen a shooting star flying across the sky so close to you and you immediately snap your eyes closed. You were never one to waste your time on wishes but maybe in between it being 11:11pm, the shooting star, and the fact that you have not made a birthday wish yet, one of them will work to make your desire come to fruition. It can’t hurt to try right? Maybe finally your deepest yearnings will come to life. 

Little do you realize, that as you make your wish, a little light is cast from the inside of the hanji lamp, warming it up with a small soft candle glow before it flickers out at the end of your wish. When you finally open your eyes and look down, of course you see nothing. That hope you had quickly vanishes as your cynicism returns and you find yourself painfully laughing in a self-flagellating way. You down the last of the wine in the mug and stand up, picking up all your things and getting ready for bed. 

Little do you know, you’ve just wildly changed the course of your life.

While you’re asleep, a slow cloud of golden shimmery smoke begins to seep out from the lamp you placed on your dresser before sinking into bed and burrowing yourself under a mountain of blankets. 

A man emerges when the gold mist seems to have finally fully trickled out, building himself up from the cloud, becoming humanoid and corporeal. He is bare from the chest up, a golden chain around his hips marking the thing that holds him captive to the lamp and trapped under its control. His lower half is wearing loose baji brown trousers, the lower half of a hanbok that is the fashion of the Silla dynasty. It’s embroidered jeogori that’s a shiny silky white with gold embroidery is somewhere back in the lantern but he’s too lazy to get it now. Those are the clothes that he was entrapped in, so those are the clothes he is stuck in whenever he is kept inside the lamp. No one could blame him for whiling away his time in the vessel by choosing to slumber instead of waiting for himself to be let out again. 

Besides, as his gaze flickers over your modern style bedroom and he makes out a pile of clothing on top of a chair, he distinctly gets the feeling that he is no longer in the Joseon era, which was the last time he had been let out. Jungkook had gotten trapped in the lamp and turned into a genie when he was about 24, on the eve of his 25th birthday around 2,000 years ago, and has been paying for his mistake and the punishment that followed it ever since. In between that time and now though, he’s been let out of the lantern sporadically, over the centuries, every time it fell into the hands of someone who understood its power and wanted to make use of his abilities. 

But right now, his mistress is asleep and he is free, so he finds himself leaving the apartment, in search of what fashion and culture must be like in this weird modern time. He can’t escape her permanently, not when she has one wish left and his lamp in her possession, but he is free to wander while she’s not using him. It’s a little harder to define when and when she isn’t using him because of her second wish but since she’s unconscious right now it’s obvious that she cannot be requiring his presence currently. 

With nary but a thought, he’s suddenly on the streets in front of her apartment. He has no idea where he is; could this truly be Korea? Just because it’s past midnight doesn’t mean that the city is any less alive. He almost gets run over by a car, it’s impossible for him to get hurt given what he is, but his presence, with his feet over the line that separates the two lanes, spooks a driver who yells out a barrage of hateful language before manueving his gray SUV and driving around Jungkook’s body. Some of the comments are about a shirtless madman wandering the roads which makes Jungkook wince and even more impatient to get a change of clothes. They were not spoken in Korean which he won’t realize until later since he is gifted with omnilingual abilities that make him able to understand any and every language that exists or comes into being.

He wanders all the way to the shopping district where all the words are definitely not in Korean but using his mythical powers he’s readily able to translate them, understanding every language instantaneously. Whatever clothes he sees on the mannequins that he likes, he imagines them on himself and thus builds an entire wardrobe this way. His powers of manifestation come in handy giving him clothes that are perfectly tailored to fit his muscular frame which is paired with not only bulging biceps, broad shoulders, and thick thighs but a narrow waist too. He vastly prefers this power to his ability to make anything he wants be in his possession. Why not just make his own more perfect version than the store sizes of a men’s medium and large? Those cookie cutter sizes only account for his muscles but hide the rest of his body away under their expansive lengths of fabric. 

After his clothing shopping spree he sends all his creations back to his mistress’s home with a snap of his fingers and then begins his prowl for food. Genies don’t need sustenance and they can’t gain weight, though they can change their appearances if they wanted, but Jungkook loved food from his time as a human and he regularly uses his powers to let himself enjoy its taste, when he is out of his lamp, even though he can never make himself feel full.

His wanderings take him to a Korean restaurant that is open until dawn, and since food is the one thing he hates creating, he instead magicks himself the currency of this country, in this day and age, and bows to the ajumma who is working inside the establishment. He gets a table for one and orders a giant set of tteokbokki that has the maximum amount of heat allowed along with extra fish cakes and cheese, as well as three different kinds of Korean fried chicken: honey garlic, sweet and spicy, and barbeque, which are all flavors he has never heard of before, and finishes off with a clay pot of kimchi soondubu jiggae, a kimchi soft tofu stew. He only buys one beer knowing that the ajumma would get concerned over his tolerance if he had a dozen glasses.

When he’s done with all the food, he finds himself wistfully pining for the time when he was human and would have been truly able to not only enjoy but also appreciate this bountiful feast. After all, he had been born into a family of laborers, it’s why he had been able to grow so strong through hard manual work.

He finally returns to the apartment, but his work is not over. Unlike his mistress who can sleep blissfully having no idea what she had just done, Jungkook has long hours ahead of him to make her wish come to life in a way that seems believable and that she readily buys into by the time she wakes up. It’s not the hardest desire or demand he has ever had to complete but it will use a lot of his power, more than he’s used lately. And though he’s got an unexpendable amount of magic, he’s out of practice.

When you rouse the next morning, you can instantly tell that something is different and it immediately makes your hackles rise up. It’s more than just the smell of fried eggs, apple sausages, and maple syrup permeating the air of the apartment, making its way from the kitchen into the bedroom, though you know that you live alone and have no one to cook you such an amazing spread to wake up to. 

The air feels different, like the energy of the universe had shifted somehow. None of that makes any sense and yet somehow it also does. You don’t know what you mean when you think that but there is no other way that you can put this sense of unease into words. When you open your eyes and look across the room you see a male lounging against the wall wearing a street style look with black and gray FILA joggers and windbreaker covering the length of his long modelesque body; there’s a black bucket hat hiding his blond locks. 

You let out a loud scream immediately, terrified out of your wits, and instantly pull your comforter up to your chin even if you had gone to sleep in a pair of pajamas that covered you as though you were a nun. The male narrows his eyes at the shrill sound but the look is quickly shuttered away when a small pleasant smile takes over his face instead. 

He walks closer to you and murmurs, his doe eyes shining with the twinkle of stars from a million galaxies, “Are you okay, jagiya? I’m sorry for surprising you with breakfast this morning but I missed you. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday since I didn’t get the chance yesterday.”

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” you yelp, tightening your comforter even closer around your body, wrapping yourself up like a human burrito.

“Your lover, Jeon Jungkook,” the male calmly states, his eyes peering at you, not losing their shine as he looks at you like you had grown another head and are the crazy one amongst the two of you.

“I don’t have a lover named Jeon Jungkook,” you contradict, narrowing your eyes into slits full of suspicion. And if you did, you didn’t think you would call him your lover. Perhaps, your man, your boyfriend, or even your fwb though you weren’t really the type to dabble in such meaningless romps of pleasure, but not lover.

“Are you sure about that,” he silkily purrs, using his tattoo adorned hand to gesture to your gallery wall. 

Your eyes follow its path and you’re horrified to see the most adorable couple pictures, most of which appear to have been professionally photographed though some are cutely caught candids, of you and this ‘Jungkook’ together, staring into each other’s eyes lovingly while holding each other in an embrace that speaks volumes about passion and affection. 

“Would you like to check your phone,” suggests the male as well, his blond locks playing peekaboo with his bucket hat as his head turns towards your nightstand and he nods at the iPhone that had been charging on top of it. 

You instantly grab the device, unplugging it from the white charging cord and clutching it possessively to your chest before you finally work up the nerve to see what exactly he means. You swipe down to look at your lockscreen and it’s a live photo of Jungkook squishing his face into the side of your’s, rubbing the tip of his nose into the apple of your cheek softly. Mortified, you use facial recognition to gain further access into your phone and what you see leaves you even more bewildered. Your home screen is the most aesthetic that you’ve seen it: organized by using the IOS 15 feature. It’s blush pink and cream and the background image is a digitally manipulated picture of you and Jungkook looking into the bay from your perches on a bridge at the bottom of the image as the sky melts into a creamy pink color that's been altered to match the theme of your phone. 

At this point, you’re nervously holding onto your disbelief, so it’s with trepidation that you go into your camera roll to find hundreds upon hundreds of photos of Jungkook in an assortment of scenarios, from cute date night pics with you to dozens almost identical selfies where he’s trying out a variety of facial expressions from the same angle and in the same outfits to then even the embarrassing kinds that look like you took them on the down low when you thought he wasn’t looking. None of this makes any sense. But he looks so cute and kissable. You almost want to cry helplessly at the insanity of this all. What if he was your boyfriend? Life would be so much easier then.

You leap out of bed to go out to the front of the apartment and it’s even more confusing because there’s half a dozen pairs of chunky sneakers and boots with spiked soles that look like fashionable and weaponized soccer cleats on the shoe rack that’s by the front door— all belonging to designer brands and looking slightly threatening. It is clear that those shoes belong to a male, most likely this male, and they are all neatly organized to one side while your shoes, the shoes that you remember, are off to the other end. 

“This makes no sense,” you whine, rubbing your forehead frantically. Is this what hyperrealistic nightmares feel like? It seems as though you’ve been transported to the Twilight Zone in your opinion, and you just want to desperately get out.

“Would you like to call your mother and ask her about me?” Jungkook, his voice a smooth cadence as he unhelpfully directs the suggestion to your back. He had evidently followed you out back here. 

“What?”

“Your mother? We FaceTime her all the time. She’s really been pushing for me to pop the question for the last couple of months. Despite what she thinks, it’s really not that covert,” he scoffs, his lips flaring out into a pout. You note with bemusement that there is a small mole underneath the plush of his strawberry colored lower lip. How dare he have a mole in such a perfect location? Now your mind would never know peace until you dragged his lower lip between yours and sucked on that tiny chocolate chip. It’s actually deranged how your mind continuously chooses to flit between lust and rationality. 

“Jungkook?” Your voice takes on a shrill sound, “How long have we been dating?”

“As long as you want it to be.”

That doesn’t make any sense.

“Jungkook, please don’t mess around with me! How long have we been dating?” you demand more urgently. You are halfway to a full-blown panic attack and you need to calm down but nothing seems to be placating you about this entire situation.

The male walks around to step in front of you and then faces you head on. He keeps his hands to himself, crossing them while making sure that his fingers are folded and tucking into his armpits. He bends a little to look you in the eyes since he’s much taller, to peer carefully into your eyes that are slightly blown out from your constant state of shock and bewilderment. “Why didn’t it work?” he wonders.

“HAVE YOU BEEN GASLIGHTING ME?!”

“Well, not intentionally,” he muses, tapping a finger to his lip. God, even his hands are perfect. Each digit is long and tipped with neatly cut and perfectly clean fingernails. And they’re shiny too like he uses some type of cuticle oil. Not to mention how he’s got sexily protruding veins wrapping along the back of his hand and down to his wrist and arm.“I thought you’d be in on it. Could it be that it didn’t work on you even though it worked on everyone else in your life because you made the wish? My magic probably assumed that you didn’t need convincing since after all, this was what you wanted.”

Things make even less sense after his explanation even though Jungkook probably thought he was being helpful by providing it. Your eyes are narrowed in disbelief as you perturbedly shake your head.

“What are you talking about?” you hesitantly ask. You’re nervous because you’ve moved on from the idea that this is a hyperrealistic bad dream to the conspiracy theory that you have a crazy stalker who somehow figured out how to almost seamlessly integrate himself into your life and that he’s more than just the ordinary type of psychopath; this one seems like he’s the delusional type that thinks he has otherworldly powers. Wouldn’t that be just your luck: Jungkook is the first man you’ve been attracted to in months but he didn’t approach you like a normal person who wanted to pursue something.

Jungkook’s mouth takes on a pursed shape as he narrows his eyes at you, deep in thought; the coral red lips are scrunched together with the upper one flaring out. You can see the chocolatey brown mole right below them again and you are suddenly hit with the urge to kiss his lips until the frown is smoothed out.

“Do you have any idea what you even did last night?” he barks, his tone entirely too accusatory for your liking. One would think you had cheated on your imaginary boyfriend the evening before. He takes off his bucket hat in frustration and runs a hand through his blond locks, ruffling them. His jerky hand movements bring attention not only to the length of tattoos that encompass his arm but also its muscular veininess that had held you previously enraptured. You blink, you need to get dicked down soon. You wanted to give into Stockholm Syndrome way too easily for this man. Don’t do it, Y/N, no matter how hot Jungkook is, it’s scary that he’s in your house right now.

You rack your brain but come up woefully short. “I went to bed with only rosé as my dinner?” you hedge. You don’t think it’s that big of a deal although it’s definitely unadvisable to do. 

The male huffs, raising his right hand up before he snaps the fingers on that hand. A paper lantern appears, landing perfectly on his palm. Your eyebrows both raise because you recognize it immediately; it’s the lamp Safi had gifted you as your birthday present. 

“You made a wish for the perfect beau,” Jungkook explains patiently, “I made your wish come to life.”

“Can’t you undo it?” you push urgently. Why are you entertaining this mad man? Magic isn’t real, Y/N!

He excitedly quirks an eyebrow of his own, smirking as he takes in your look of bemusement. “Is that another wish?” he asks.

“No!” you swiftly interrupt. If you are in the Twilight Zone somehow, you need to be smart with how you navigate within this nightmare, at least until you figure out a way to wake yourself up.

“You only have one left, anyways,” he sasses tapping his plumper lower lip with his pointer and middle fingers, you’ve already noticed it’s a habit, rolling his big doe eyes, “I could kind of undo the effects of the wish by making its time constraint shorter so that it stops in the next five minutes but in my opinion, that’s just another wasted wish. So if I were you,” he says with a shrug, “personally I’d go along with it for the next ten days. We wouldn’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable but I would still be playing the role of the doting attentive paramour.”

You blink at him, your mind still sluggish from your wine hangover and terrible bout of sleep. “I only have one wish left?”

“Not the smartest of my mistresses or masters by a long stretch,” Jungkook agrees, teasing you, scrunching his nose to peer at you cutely. 

You gasp loudly, obviously affronted. Not the handsome weirdo calling you dumb. 

“Do I get three?” you question. Your mind is working on overtime today and it’s still taking you too long to understand things. You’d like to tell this Jungkook character that you graduated from the top university in the nation and have two degrees but you don’t think that he would believe you if you bragged and let that tidbit slip. 

“You do,” he nods, unhelpful as ever.

It kind of makes sense; you assume the purpose of genies is to manipulate their rulers into making all of their wishes as quickly as possible.

“Oh, you want me to tell you what your two used wishes were. Humans really are weak, aren’t they? Is your mind normally supposed to be so foggy after drinking so much?” He calls you out directly and you gasp; you suppose that genies don’t have manners. Or at least this one doesn’t, you glare at Jungkook’s untactfulness.

“I know one of them was to have you here,” as your boyfriend, you finish off in your head, too unnerved to say it out loud just in case that makes it more true, “but what was the one before it?”

“Oh! You wanted there to be light.” Fiat lux, look at you, and you thought you weren’t philosophical. 

You blink again. Nope, that doesn’t follow. You would never be so profound. What would a wish like that even mean to a genie? An increase in intelligence? For there to be less ignorant people in the world? Ah. Wait. You do vaguely remember thinking that it would be so nice if you had more light to see the markings on the lantern. But—

“I made my wish for a man on a shooting star,” you retort as a counterargument, trying to wheedle out of Jungkook’s covenant so that you’ll have an additional wish to add to your arsenal.

“Nice try,” snorts Jungkook. He’s probably listened to a thousand arguments by a thousand masters that have all tried to bargain and reason with him trying to manipulate him and exploit him for more wishes, “But I made that appear in the night sky. It was not fated to be there that night until I materialized it. It wasn’t real so it didn’t have the powers of a normal shooting star.”

“So shooting stars actually work?” 

He shrugs, “Sometimes. Wishes depend on the caster. Theoretically you can make a wish on a shooting star, a wishing well, your birthday, on a deity, etc. But you can rarely succeed at having a wish granted, much less by using the same method twice. And most people, if they’re lucky, only get to have one wish come true in their lifetime. It’s much more common for there to be no successful ones. Aren’t you lucky to have woken me up from my slumber,” he snarks, “you got three.”

“I made a birthday wish,” you faintly mutter rather dispiritedly.

He hears you anyways, “I don’t think it worked. Why not try again next year?” 

You ignore the snarkiness of his suggestion, “So you’re really my boyfriend for the next ten days.”

He nods. You squint at him, you still haven’t put your contacts on for the day and your glasses remain forgotten in your bedroom. 

“Can I ask you to do things? Like a girlfriend asks her boyfriend? Or does that count as a wish.”

“You can ask me anything. Whether or not I do anything is entirely up to me. I suppose I will be more courteous and mindful of your requests since I am playing the part of the perfect significant other. As long as it’s related to this wish, I will try my best to make it come to fruition for you. For example, if you wanted me to take you out for dinner on the rooftop of a skyscraper I probably would. If you wanted me to buy you a bunch of gifts or fill your rooms with flowers, I could do that too.”

“Why is it only ten days? I didn’t wish for ten days,” you inquire.

Jungkook smiles at you sheepishly, showing the first sign of less than suaveness. “As far as mistresses go, you’re not a selfish one but would you believe me if I told you that in the past only terrible people used to be able to draw me out of my lamp and make demands of me? As the years went by I added rules: only three wishes, no wishes have permanent effects, and only those pure of heart can awaken me, just to name a few.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say.

“In ten days, your life will go back to normal. And even though you will always remember this, it will become more and more dreamlike and disconnected from reality as time goes on. One day you might even come to the decision that you had made me up and that I was a figment of your imagination. No one can hold onto the idea that this was all real for too long.”

“So for this week, everyone in my life is convinced we’ve been together for a while but next week they won’t even have known I had a boyfriend?” you conclude.

“You’ll wake up on the eleventh morning like time hasn’t passed at all; it’ll be like it’s today all over again but without me in all those pictures that stand as proof of a shared, albeit fake, history,” Jungkook confirms.

“But what will happen to you?” you worry. 

“I’ll be sticking around unless you make your third wish before then.” He looks at you hopefully but you snort in retort. “When you make the third wish, I’ll go back into the lamp and it will disappear from your life before the process starts all over for me. I’ll probably be sleeping until I’m let out again.”

“I wasn’t the one who found you,” you frown. “My best friend gave it to me as a birthday present.”

Jungkook's eyes widen marginally but you don’t catch how the genie appears momentarily unnerved, he shrugs it off to you, feigning nonchalance, “That doesn’t really matter because you were the one that was able to let the lamp open.”

You hum but say nothing. You’re distracted by the magnificent bounty of breakfast food that Jungkook has arranged on your tiny square table for four, not that you ever had to use all four of the place settings at the same time. You make your way to the dining area, edging away from Jungkook and the conversation, but as expected, the male trails after you like a lost puppy. 

“Do you have any plans for how our day should progress, mistress?”

“Please stop calling me that,” you blush hotly. You are the subbiest sub ever so it’s discomforting to hear you being referred to in such a manner even if it’s not in a sexual context.

“What would you like to be called instead?” Jungkook inquires, altruistically.

“Let’s just stick to my name for now,” you mutter, placing two fried eggs on your plate before going for the waffles. Jungkook should be glad you’re such a benevolent holder of the lamp, he says you’re pure of heart but you don’t know about all that, all you do know is, you won’t make Jungkook’s life any harder than it needs to be for the next ten days.

A light smirk paints Jungkook’s lips as he takes the seat opposite to you. “We can make our way to pet names and terms of endearment as the days progress.”

You choke, coughing and sputtering as a square of waffle gets lodged in your throat. But as your eyes water up, widening from pain and surprise, Jungkook smoothly waves his hand in a flippant manner in your direction and the waffle disappears immediately.

Gasping for air you ask, “Does this mean that when you’re finally gone I’ll be going back to choking and die a painful death?”

Jungkook scoffs, “Only the wishes I make come true for my masters have limits to them. And it’s a recent development I made to curb their usually evil desires. I’m very powerful. Everything I do has permanent effects. It’s why I’m locked up any time I don’t have an owner.”

You blink, gobsmacked. Somehow his arrogance is terribly sexy and it makes your pussy throb. 

On the first day, following breakfast, Jungkook makes the two of you disappear and reappear in Malta for an island vacation and date. You’re in a panic, claiming that you can’t be in a foreign country without any identification, money, or clothes. But the male just rolls his eyes at your antics and reminds you just who exactly has been cast to play the role of your picture perfect boyfriend. 

You side-eye him now. He is walking slightly ahead of you to the left so that there is space left for you to walk beside him if you want to catch up but you can’t make up your mind if you want to. His blond hair is trapped under yet another black bucket hat which makes you wonder if he hates the pale color of his locks and he’s wearing a black Hawaiian shirt with white hibiscuses creating an artfully arranged pattern. His black board shorts have a 5 inch inseam and you’re wondering how it is that this thousands-of-years old mythical being dresses like an emo alt boy. Not that you know what two out of those three words mean. You assume it’s like a vibe from what the gen z college students that appear in your office tell you. Jungkook looks just like them. 

You’ve been wheedling Jungkook to reveal details about his own life but the individual has managed to remain tight-lipped thus far. He runs ahead to a street vendor to excitedly buy you a sandwich. The round leavened bread has a filling of potatoes, capers, tomatoes, and mozzarella. He hands you one of the diagonally cut slices before bringing the other half to his mouth.

You hold it in your hand bemusedly, at a loss of what to do with it. You had quite literally finished the meal he had prepared for you half an hour ago. Side-eyeing him once again, this time enviously, you sigh; you can’t eat like he does because unlike him you do not have magical powers and if he continues to feed you like this, you’ll gain 30 pounds by the end of the 10 days. And you could ask him to keep you from gaining weight but that would probably count as a third wish instead of being an extension of his boyfriendly duties.

“Are you ready to see our lodgings?” he asks, a droplet of olive oil, that the sandwich had practically been doused in, glistening on his perfectly coral colored Cupid’s bow.

You give him a look that wordlessly states ‘lead the way,’ and follow him as your walk takes the two of you before a two story condo located on the waterfront. 

“Can I ask you a question,” you start off.

Jungkook interrupts you immediately, knowing just where your head was going, “I did not make the apartment appear out of midair. It was conveniently empty and I planted a thought in the owner’s head that he had rented it to us.”

Okay first of all, that was not what you were going to ask. “Are you going to pay him?” you demand self-righteously.

“Why?” Jungkook deadpans, “The timeline will be reset soon enough.”

“I was actually going to ask you,” you tread carefully, though apparently not delicately enough because the male’s hackles start to rise and his gaze turns into one that is more filled with suspicion and distrust. You plow ahead anyways and repeat, “I wanted to ask you why you were going along with this.”

“Because it is your wish.” He says it with such simplicity, his face as expressionless as his tone.

You sigh frustratedly, “Yes but—am I making you uncomfortable? You don’t have to pretend to be my lover. I have to admit I wasn’t thinking that this would happen when I made that wish.”

“So, did you have a male in mind then?” Jungkook’s expression turns even more grim as he shutters away his emotions. His large dark brown eyes are impassive for the first time since you’ve met him and you’re starting to miss the shine of those doelike lenses.

“Well, no. But, if I wanted my fake boyfriend to be Kim Namjoon, could you do that?”

“Who is Kim Namjoon?” He sounds so affronted, unable to believe that you could prefer anyone to him. Huh. You had the feeling that Jungkook was a cocky self-aggrandizing genie but you hadn’t realized how much until now.

“My celebrity crush.”

“What is a ‘celebrity’?”

You stare at him blankly, “So you weren’t out in the twentieth century either, huh?” 

When he frowns at you, those cute lips of his curving down, you hurriedly tack on, “It doesn’t matter, anyways. I just asked because, well— We don’t have to be ‘lovers,’” you quote Jungkook from earlier on in the day. “What if we just hung out as friends for the next ten days?”

“I would like that,” admitted Jungkook. “Although I’m not sure if that actually fulfills your wish.”

“Why not?” you pout. “What was the explicit wording of my wish, anyways?”

Jungkook looks away without answering you and then wordlessly marches towards the front door of the condo, expecting you to follow. 

The inside of the two storied structure is very rustic but clean. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of clutter, which you appreciate, but you wouldn’t call it minimalistic. It had a beachy European vibe to it with furniture pieces that had probably seen their prime in design in the late 90s. You actually like the old school feel of the place; it makes it feel more authentic. The place has about four bedrooms but Jungkook tells you that the two rooms the two of you will be sharing are right next to each other. 

When you walk into the place where you’ll be sleeping tonight, you are met by the sight of a white painted metal bed frame that has a lot of curlicues making up the headboard. The bedding looks comfy and clean which is always nice and the box springs and mattress look relatively new, providing a nice height and plumpness to your bed. There’s a massive pile of shopping bags and boxes stacked against the wall and you can only wonder if your attractive genie companion had gone into the trouble of making sure you would have a variety of clothes and necessities on this trip.

As you fiddle through the tissue paper hiding the contents of a bright orange Louis Vuitton bag, you are puzzled how Jungkook is both on top of and out of the loop when it comes to the 21st century. The male is on top of fashion but not famous people and you wonder what else he knows or is woefully oblivious about. You put on a cute russet brown bikini set that looks gorgeous on your honeyed skin; there is a large gold hoop connecting the two halves of your top as well as two matching hoops on the sides of your hips. You are currently pulling on a pair of Louis Vuitton shorts with cute pockets that are lined with a gold colored zipper and are almost the exact same shade of brown as your swimming suit but covered by the familiar and iconic pattern of interlocking LV’s with flowers in white, teal, orange, and light brown, just about having buckled in the cute strappy belt that comes with it when your door is unceremoniously thrust open. 

You stand, jaw slackened in surprise, as Jungkook walks into the room looking so colorful that you blink to make sure it’s actually him. His hair is now the pinkish red color of cherries and he's wearing a yellow T-shirt that has an opened shirt that looks like a white baseball tee over it, though the fabric is more airy and lightweight; the sleeves of his yellow top are tucked into the sleeves of the white one. He’s wearing navy blue swimming trunks and you love that he turned out to be the type of male that sticks to 5-7 inch inseams rather than wearing shorts that go down super low and cover his knees like you know so many men in your acquaintance to do. It baffles you; don’t they realize how ugly it makes their outfits look? 

Jungkook snaps his fingers to make a pair of black Ray-Bans with gold frames cover your eyes to match the ones tucked into his soft red hair and you notice the multitude of beaded bracelets adorning his wrist. 

“I haven’t gone to the beach in years,” you proclaim excitedly. 

Now that you two have settled that he’s a genie and you’re his mistress who gets to call all the shots, there is a sense of calm over the two of you and this wayward situation that you’ve thrusted the two of you into. He’s not acting the role of your boyfriend. He’s just someone you’re on vacation with and it makes it so much easier to relax when you keep that in mind. 

You eagerly reach out to grab his large hand in your much smaller one to tug him along with you, back outside of the condominium so that you two could eventually make your way to the beachfront. The male gives in easily, he engulfs his hand with yours and you can feel its warm heat cupping you comfortably. You give him a happy smile and proceed to pull him along with you which is much easier said than done because Jungkook finds it hilarious to drag his feet and stand his ground on the gravelly cobblestone streets so that he can laugh at your feeble attempts at strength as you try to move him. 

Jungkook is bored at the beach. You scowl at him. He’s being a party pooper, acting like a black hole that’s bringing down your excitement and sucking it all in. He has no idea how to relax. You had told him as much when he sighed as he sat down next to you in the little area you made him create for the two of you. There’s a cute blanket for the two of you to lie on and an umbrella if you no longer want to be in the sun. You even got him to materialize some books for you (you just had to tell him the author and title) but from the looks of his displeased frown when he discovered that nearly all of the books have raunchy covers, Jungkook’s not thrilled about your little omission. 

You glower at him. The blanket is massive with enough space for the two of you, yet Jungkook sits so close beside you that you’re almost halfway to the sand as you hover near the edge of the cloth. You slip your shorts off and put it on one of the beach chairs next to the two of you before flopping down again. You turn your body around so that you are facing the beach as you lie on your stomach, your elbows propping you up so you can read the third book of the Bridgertons series. 

“God, Jungkook,” you goad, “If you’re not going to do anything, can you apply my sunscreen on me?” It’s in the little tote you have with you.

Jungkook scrunches up his face as he scrutinizes you from behind the lenses of his matching black sunglasses. You had to put yours back on your head because you couldn’t read anything with how dark they made the page appear. “Why don’t you put sunscreen on me first?” 

“Jungkook, you don’t need sunscreen!” you whine. “You’re a genie. You don’t have to worry about the dangers of skin cancer and UV rays.”

“It’s amazing how often I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muses as he huffs at you, going into your bag to pull out the sunscreen.

Perhaps because he’s unused to applying sunscreen on, you doubted the Joseon era (which was the last time he had been out) Koreans did because you were pretty sure it was invented in the early 1940s, he squirts what feels like half the bottle on your back. You screech at the cold aqueous feeling of the liquid as it trails down your figure approaching the barriers of your cute bikini top. 

“Jungkook!” you yelp. “Untie my clothes! It’s going to ruin them and leave ugly chalky marks on the fabric, you asshole! And you’re supposed to blend it into my skin so there’s no white cast.”

Jungkook places his hand against your back, cupping the deliquescent lotion and trapping it beneath his massive palm. One handedly, he undoes the tie to your brown string bikini, leaving your back bare as the cloth protects your minimal modesty in the front only. Ignoring what you had said about getting your bottoms ruined, he doesn't remove them, though you have no idea why. There’s not anyone near you on this long stretch of the coast. Instead, he just tugs it halfway down your ass. 

He moves his body so that his knees are straddling you on either side but since he’s lightly perched on your thighs, your uncovered ass is mere centimeters away from his crotch and when he moves to make sure that his hands are covering every inch of your revealed body with the sun block, you swear you can feel something large poking you at times.

His touch is feather light as his fingertips ghost along your back making you arch into him. His finger traces along your spine, making you keen lightly as you bite down on your lower lip to keep him from hearing you. His palms knead at the knots in your body as you still at the sensations he is pulling from your body. He’s being perfectly respectful, his hands stay on the length of your back, not moving under to canvas your breasts or slip down your hips or drift along the plump curve of your ass, yet somehow you are still mindless under his dexterous palms. 

Your eyelashes flutter closed, your eyes no longer able to focus on Benedict Bridgerton’s love story, as Jungkook massages the white cream into your skin with his strong hands. The male pulls his lip between his bunny teeth as he frowns when he hears your attempts to conceal the sounds that he is coaxing out of you. 

“Jungkook,” you pant out nervously, fearing how much further this can go if you don’t put a wise stop to it now. 

“Hmm?”

“I can do my legs,” you suggest. 

“Ah okay, Y/N,” he agrees. “But do you really want to spend the whole day reading that?” 

His face is twisted into a grimace as he glares at the upside down book you half opened to hold its place. 

“What do you want to do?” you ask getting up from the blanket and grabbing the bottle of sunscreen before squirting some on your hands to go over all the areas Jungkook hadn’t gotten around to.

“Do you want to go scuba diving?”

“Have you ever gone scuba diving?” 

“Of course not,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “But I’ll try everything once.”

He whisks you two away to the Maltese island of Comino once you’re ready to call it quits at the beach. When you’re finally with the group of people who are getting ready to scuba dive with the instructor, suiting up and paying attention to the directions so they’re safe as they start to explore the reefs, lagoons, and underwater caves, you start to panic.

“Jungkook,” you mumble, edging closer to him and tiptoeing so you can whisper into his ear. The male turns his head to look at you, moving closer and instantly stooping down so you can easily state your piece. “Jungkook, I don’t feel comfortable scuba diving.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Y/N.” God, did you wish for the perfect boyfriend or what? Maybe drunk off her ass Y/N had something going for her. Even before, you had been tempted to make things get sexual as he was running those powerful hands over your pliant body, but you had managed to barely control yourself and keep yourself from shoving Jungkook down on the sand to climb over his body. It had been so nice of him to do that for you, very boyfriend, or as Jungkook would probably say, lover-like.

“Yes, I know,” you pause, deep in thought, before you continue, “but I don’t want you to limit your enjoyment because you’re so busy looking over me, trying to keep me from accidentally killing or maiming myself. Can we like do something a little more tame... like snorkeling? I don’t want to go so deep into the water.”

He gives into you easily, it doesn’t even take him a second to think about what you’re asking from him, and he readily transports the two of you onto a boat where a snorkeling class has already began to put on their masks and flippers before they make their ways to the edge of the boat to jump off. 

After watching the humans struggle putting on the equipment for ten or even fifteen minutes each, Jungkook decides it’ll just be easier if he does it for you so you don’t have to worry about if anything was worn improperly or unsafely.

He thinks you look adorable with the giant clear goggles; your long mane of hair squishes to your skull where the straps of the mask are pressing into your head and the lenses magnify your eyes making them look cute albeit a little bug-like. He quietly commands you to stop fiddling around with the snorkel; he knows you’re worried but he doesn’t want you to mess around with the pipe and accidentally disconnect what Jungkook had correctly set up for you. You’re waddling a bit in your large black and indigo flippers, attempting to pull your shorts off and get the holes through your suddenly enormous feet. You trip and Jungkook catches you, holding you against his bare chest because he had gotten rid of his clothes as well so he would only be in his swimming trunks.

“You okay?” he softly inquires, keeping you trapped within the heat of his comforting embrace. 

You can only squeak your reply, distracted about how his massive palms are so warm and almost entirely encapsulate your waist as he holds you up against him. There is something cool and metallic digging into your skin and your hand brushes against it. Was Jungkook wearing a waist chain? The male flinches away from your hold, stepping back instantly. 

“No need to worry about the jump or the water being too cold,” Jungkook murmurs, blatantly ignoring whatever had happened seconds ago, “I’ve got you.”

And in a flash, the two of you are underwater, surrounded by so much clean liquid that you can enjoy the greenish blue hue of the ocean and yet make out everything with such clarity. 

You frown when you notice that though Jungkook put on flippers he didn’t have a mask covering his face and making him look as distorted and ugly as you felt. It was so unfair; you have to look unattractive so you can breathe and not die submerged in the sea but Jungkook looks like a model with the water lifting his red locks and making them swirl around his head. Though he doesn’t want your eyes to focus on his waist, your gaze is immediately drawn to it, shifting their focus from the clean cut muscled edges of his eight pack, just barely able to make out the gold band that sits snugly around his bronzed skin, kept in place by the minimal flare to his hips, due to how your vision is slightly warped and distorted by your goggles. 

Jungkook reaches out to grab your hand, his long fingers wrapping themselves around your delicate wrist and he gently pulls you towards him, his lengthy legs swiftly flapping along as he propels his body around the water, taking you on his guided tour for one. Swimming side by side with Jungkook, you follow him deeper into the half submerged caves of St. Maria, your eyes taking in the mesmerizing schools of snappers and sea bream swimming around, ducking in and out of view when they travel around sandbars. You flinch into yourself, pulling away from Jungkook when you see a moray eel but the male just giggles, air bubbles releasing from his mouth as his chortles continue, his red hair a darkened burgundy cloud around his ears. He softly tugs you back to him and pursues on with the two of yours sea adventure. 

You gasp and clap excitedly when you see several cuttlefish and even a sand colored octopus, eagerly pointing it out to Jungkook, who only smiles when he notices your hand slip out of his again and then swims closer to the octopus to ooh and aah over it. Eventually, the snorkeling guide asks for everyone to come back onto the boat so that they can direct it over to a ship wreckage where you all will be allowed to go back into the sea to get a closer glimpse at the German minesweeper. 

The rusting boat is a little deeper than expected and you find yourself hesitantly waddling your legs in the water to keep yourself in the same unmoving position, while the rest of your class energetically flaps their legs to swim towards the ship, swimming further into the depths of the Maltese sea. Jungkook looks back at you from where he had gone to follow the crowd, his lips jutting out as he purses his lips, deep in contemplation. 

His eyes narrow as he looks at you consideringly though you’re absentminded in your persisting fear and have not become aware of his gaze in your direction yet. He smoothly paddles back to you, holding you with his warm palm pressed against the small of your back. You look up at him and shiver. 

Do you want me to help you? You know I wouldn't let you drown or have anything bad happen to you? You purposefully screw and unscrew your eyes shut, trying to make sense that this powerful genie possesses the ability to broadcast his thoughts into your mind because the two of you can’t speak in water. He probably has a more equipt way of dealing with that too but was choosing to exert less energy.

You nod brusquely and the male transports the two of you right by the wreckage where the rest of the class are enthusiastically swimming around and admiring the ruins of the World War II ship. Jungkook gently presses on your lower back pushing you forward to encourage you to explore the minesweeper on your own but you back up pressing yourself into his front, not even leaving an inch of space in between you. 

He looks down at you indulgently, tucking one of your wildly floating locks of hair behind your ear, as his hand moves away, it caresses the side of your cheek, making its way down. As you let out a longing sigh, he grips the underside of your jaw, tilting your chin up so he can remove the mouthpiece to your snorkel before he swoops down to capture your lips with his.

You’ve been yearning for his kiss since the moment you woke up and found your eyes enraptured by those pillowy coral colored lips, and Jungkook does not disappoint. They taste like mint chapstick and coffee as he hauls your body against his, one of his brawny arms locking you into his hold while the other works its way up while he winds his fingers through the drenched locks of your hair. As you continuously gasp in between every short kiss he slots over your lips, your hands travel across his broad shoulders and impressive back where you can feel flexing bundles of muscles beneath your fingertips. 

Tiring of the small abrupt pecks, Jungkook pulls you up, your legs instinctually wrapping around his hips as you meet him for a more impassioned kiss. You enthusiastically part your mouth, welcoming him and his tongue licks its way into that wet cavern, twining around your tongue as you both fight for control. You’re weak to the way that his lips mold against yours with its firm pressure, fitting against you perfectly. As you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tight, Jungkook moves his hands to cup your ass, fitting you more perfectly against him. He gropes your butt fervently as your fingers snake themselves into his luscious locks. 

You can feel his curious wandering hands roving across the planes of your body as you lean deeper into the kisses, gasping when Jungkook releases you to let you catch your breath. But even then, your lips are still attached to his as he busies himself with nibbling on your plump bottom lip, not wanting to waste a single second. His fingers find themselves into the hidden space between your cheeks, gripping on them softly to spread them more apart and then he runs his index finger across the seam, traveling from your clenching asshole to your fluttering core. Your pussy gushes more and more with his every pass over it, not that he can tell with you both underwater. But surely he can sense that your clit is becoming more sensitive and engorged with the minimal simulation, eager for more. His fingernail catches on that little bud his next pass over and you moan loudly against his lips before accidentally biting down on the lower one impassionately. 

When the two of you break apart, he leans his forehead against your nape, licking over his bitten lip tasting the faint flavor of iron and sea salt. It stings a little, if he wants to be completely honest. But with a simple burst of his powers, the pain is gone and since Jungkook already has his face pressing against your neck, he uses the opportunity to dart his tongue into the shallow pools of your collar bones, lapping at them softly, his tongue moving across your throat to manipulate whines and keens out of you. Even as he does this, his focus is split and he finds himself nudging your copper colored bikini bottom to the side as he reveals your pussy folds to one of his questing hands. 

Jungkook grows daring as he nudges at your pussy with nimble fingers, thumbing your clit and pressing down hard enough to make you wail. His fingers dart across the furled petals leading to your throbbing core and he ghosts those appendages, letting you feel the sudden sensation of fullness before it’s swiftly gone like you imagined it. You’re writhing in his arms, sound travels differently in the ocean but he selfishly doesn’t want anyone to see your eyes rolling backwards as your mouth opens wide in an ahegao type expression. 

A red flush covers your tanned skin, travelling from your décolletage to your throat and Jungkook finds himself capturing your chin in his firm grasp. His thumb swipes at your lips repeatedly until you finally part them so he can shove it inside all whilst jutting two fingers in and out of your cunt deliciously. You gag around the appendage, saliva trailing down your lips and painting the sides of your mouth as you struggle to acclimate your body to the brutal and hectic pace of how he thrusts his fingers in and out your folds. 

With Jungkook’s promise to keep you safe, you don’t have to worry about sputtering and choking on salty sea water, instead you’re doing so on his thick fingers which are a pale and slim imitation to how his cock will feel in your mouth. With your focus so frayed and with him dead set on making you go mindless with lust, Jungkook turns his focus to his mouth, nipping his way down the neglected column of your throat, until he gets to your cleavage. Jungkook chooses to bite down on that golden circle connecting the two halves of your skimpy bikini, pulling at it with his bunny teeth before letting go again to have the swimwear bounce against your skin, stimulating your nipples and making them harden into beads. He kisses and tongues your breasts through the moisture resistant fabric, growling in frustration at its thickness that inhibits his abilities to inflame you even further. He nabs it between the hold of his clenched teeth and tugs, pulling at your top until only one cup is left maintaining your precarious modesty. 

With one of your breasts free from the cloth, Jungkook wastes no time to wrap his lips around it’s stiffened tip. His agile tongue swirls itself around, laving the hardened bud, and he gently nibbles at it, making you reflexively nip at his thumb. He has you wrapped around him both figuratively and literally, and he divides his attention, never forgetting to incite your pulsating pussy with forceful pumps of his appendages as he sucks on your breasts and lets you suck on the fingers to his other hand. There’s something about gagging on Jungkook’s tatted digits that has you raggedly inhaling through your nose and falling apart at the seams at all the attention your body is under. 

When you finally cum, you sag against him; your top is halfway down your abdomen and one of its straps is dangling by your elbow. Your eyes are still blown out from lust but you’ve calmed down somewhat though you're desperately trying to catch your breath, counting on Jungkook’s inexhaustible strength to hold you up beside him. You seem to be completely unaware of your surroundings and how the other snorkelers swim closer to the two of you since you are both breathless and a little disoriented from the heated kisses, and more, that followed.

Fortunately for your unsettled self, the male isn’t standing idle as you are, trying to make sense of your surroundings. He fixes your bottom so that it no longer digs into your soft curves and repositions it so that your pussy is completely covered. You float in the water and let him manhandle you like you’re his pretty doll, letting him secure up your bikini so your breasts are no longer exposed. He even reties it in the back for you before he puts your snorkel back onto your mouth. But as he does so, he bites on his lower lip, sucking his cheeks in as his eyes hold a glimmer of something that he’s trying to hide from you.

You irately raise your eyebrows at him as he finally lets out the laughter he had been holding in, in the form of a breathy chuckle. Sorry, it’s nothing, his thoughts are once again intruding your mind, it’s just I forgot you were wearing your cute goggles, that’s all!

Immediately you are still as mortification takes over your body, a frown adorning your features. And just like that, the moment is broken and you are no longer under his spell. 

In the afternoon, you two walk around the beachfront of where your condo lies, tired after scuba diving and wanting to engage in some low level, minimal effort tourism. Well, you’re tired; Jungkook has a boundless expanse of energy. He’s like an excitable puppy who takes on everything he sees as if it’s his first life although you know it’s not. But you suppose, if you were kept in a prison regularly for upwards of hundreds of years without any idea when your next chance at freedom was, you too would make the most of every opportunity that presented itself to you. 

Jungkook claps every time you pick up something that suits you and immediately buys it for you, flitting between acting the role of a supportive best friend and a sexy sugar daddy, but you’re into it, enraptured by the duality that suits him, giving him a cute glow to his dark brown doe eyes. After you end up with too many souvenir bracelets and little knick knacks, even a little pouch to hold your phone and money, though you aren’t likely to call anyone or need to spend any money during the next ten days, you cut Jungkook off from getting you anything more. You beg off for a chance to relax, maybe even take a midday nap which isn’t something you’ve done since you were in high school, before getting ready to go to the night time date that Jungkook promises will be even more spectacular. 

It’s about 6pm, and you’re all glammed up for your date with Jungkook. He’s taking his job of wooing you super seriously. You dimly wonder whether all genies are as competitive as Jungkook, striving for a 100% satisfaction guaranteed (which he certainly had done in the turquoise water earlier in the day). You had asked him about it during one of the rounds to the small kiosks around the open air bazaar, if you got to fill out a customer service report at the end of this entire experience. The male had narrowed his eyes at you, a slandered look of affront taking over his face as he wound up his arms together tightly and pointedly stalked away from you.

He seems to have mellowed out however. You could have sworn you heard him singing lightly as he went around his room, immersed in his tasks, talking to inanimate objects like the Disney character that he was. However Jungkook is a little bit petty, and had decided to withhold the location of your date tonight from you which left you with no idea of what dress code to aim for. 

You think you did pretty well, all things considered.

Your thick locks have been washed to get rid of all the salt that clung to them after your snorkeling excursion and you have it slicked back into a sleek half up half down hairdo that doesn't have a single hair out of place. Meanwhile, your makeup features smokey eyes and dark currant colored lips since you wanted your glam look to have an edge to it. 

Your outfit is made out of the contents of the packages and shopping bags that Jungkook had lined the wall of your room with, earlier in the day. You’re wearing a skin clinging Versace mini dress with a plunging neckline that barely covers your ass and is covered in glittery burgundy colored sequins. It makes your rack look fabulous which is only being held up with some nude bra pads, sticky tape, and sheer pleas for divine intervention. Meanwhile, your ass looks scrumptious and perky like you just got a BBL on this Maltese vacation. There are long strappy black Saint Laurent heels wrapping around your legs and lengthening the limbs making you look like an Amazonian queen. Gold Harry Winston hoops adorn your ears with a slim gold chain from the brand dipping into your cleavage while an assortment of rings from Chanel and Cartier adorn your fingers and offset the gold love bracelet banging against your left wrist. To put it simply, you look like a Goddamn fucking catch. 

After making sure that every detail to your look is perfect as you gaze into the full length mirror in your room and attempt tugging on the skirt of the Versace dress one more time, you leave your room to knock on the door to Jungkook’s room that is right beside it. 

The male opens it instantly, almost like he was waiting for you to knock and his jaw slackens a little as he takes in the full, lethal, image of you in your micro mini, with the tumbling dark locks of hair falling over your shoulder and your legs looking like they would look perfect over his shoulders with the strappy sandals still on, their thin stiletto heels digging into his back as he pounded you into blissful nirvana.

Like always, you remain oblivious to Jungkook’s ravenous and coveting glances. Mostly, it’s because you are similarly distracted. His hair is no longer cherry red or the blond that you think is its default; rather, Jungkook has long cobalt colored locks that get darker towards the roots framing his face suavely. He stands in front of you looking gloriously tall as he wears a slightly loose fit dark colored blazer that reveals a white tucked in shirt underneath and black cargo joggers to soften the formal look to his outfit. His black Prada Chelsea boots make him tower over you with their giant imposing soles. He has a few earrings in and a silver chain hanging from his neck that makes you wonder if it will clink against your nude body if the night ends with another bout of heated sexual exploration. When he offers you his hand, you notice that he has a few bands adorning his fingers as well. 

You allow yourself to get pulled into his embrace. He tucks you against his chest, your bare back hitting the soft cotton of his T-shirt, the fabric is so thin that you can easily feel the heat of his body and more importantly, every hard ridge of muscle. The waist chain is there too and you have figured out that it is probably what keeps Jungkook bound under the lamp’s control. No wonder he hates it.  

His arm is securely pressed against your waist, squeezing you lightly. He’s in a good mood and you are too. You’ll just ignore the fact that he’s an immortal and that he’s not actually yours. You two can play pretend for nine more days. While you sigh and your eyes softly shutter shut in contentment, he dips his chin into the hollow of your collarbone before he whisks the two of you away to the dinner that he had planned for the two of you.

You blink in confusion as you take in the new sight. 

The sky is turning purplish blue in the evening and from the looks of it Jungkook has just taken you to an empty construction site. There’s nothing but excavators, front loaders, and a bulldozer in your vicinity. The skeletal metal outline of a partially made building explains the presence of the class 8 vehicles. 

You gingerly step out of Jungkook’s hold, walking a full ten feet away before turning back towards him. Your head is cocked and your freezing fingers are gripping your hips as you place your hands on them. “Can you kill your master?” you whisper yell back at him hesitantly, “Is that allowed?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes before he scoffs, “No, it isn’t. Not that I would want to,” he side eyes you, “yet, anyway.” 

He says it lightly as a joke, obviously, but you let out a dry laugh of, “Ha. Ha. Ha,” to match his heinous sounding cackles as you glare back at him, full of indignation as you hold your ground, extremely nonplussed. 

“Get over here, will you?” he hisses, “Our date isn’t even here; it’s over there.” 

He points to a crane on the left and you squint in the direction, still baffled. “I don’t get it.”

Jungkook sighs with displeasurement before he transports in front of you and grabs you by the waist again. Within seconds you are transported to what appears to be a dinner table attached to a crane and Jungkook has already gotten you seat belted and safely harnessed into your seat. And to your even greater surprise, his comfy blazer is covering your arms, enveloping your body and keeping you warm as Jungkook’s discernible scent of delicate florals and rich sandalwood overwhelm your senses. 

He sits next to you because the table is long and rectangular and this is the only way to be close to each other. You have to twist your body to the left to face him but you don’t find yourself minding when you notice that there is a lovely grin on his kissable mouth and a lock of dark blue hair falling into his face that he doesn’t move away. The waiters as well as the safety instructors of this sky high restaurant suddenly reappear, from wherever it was that they were hiding, to bustle around the two of you, breaking the spell you had been under, hypnotized by Jeon fucking Jungkook. 

They fill up your wine glasses with a 1967 Burgundy and water, placing two baskets between the two of you that hold a variety of French breads. Jungkook gazes into your eyes from beside you, his palm pressed against his cheek. “Anything you want to try?”

You blink, flustered, as you take on the brunt of the heat from those glowing chocolatey orbs. You don’t think you have ever been in such close proximity to Jungkook while under such a thorough perusal. Your eyes immediately slide down and you focus your attention onto the menu that had been placed before you. Almost all of it is in French. 

You happily hum when you notice there is seafood, choosing to order the Moules-frites, mussels on a shallot and white wine sauce with shoestring fried potatoes. You murmur your request to Jungkook and he calls the waiter over to tell him your desire for seafood. Perhaps inspired by you, he orders salmon en papillote with beurre blanc, sauce vierge and sauteed asparagus. It sounds fancy but it’s just salmon wrapped in parchment paper that Jungook cuts open in front of you with a side of tomatoes dressed with vinaigrette, the French white butter sauce and asparagus. 

The two of you dig into your meals vigorously and you almost forget that you’re on a date as you sigh after every bite of the scrumptious meal that brings tears to your eyes over how amazing it tastes. 

Jungkook chuckles softly next to you, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so happy.” There is almost a wistful tone to his remark.

You lick a drop of the white wine sauce off your lip before tapping your mouth with a cream colored cloth napkin. “Well, you’ve only known me for about a day,” you tease. “But I love food.”

“I do too,” admits Jungkook. You knew that. You had spent more time around food and eating today than you did over most weekends that you had off. And it was always so much food. If anything, you would’ve been surprised if he had said he hated eating and that it was just a necessary task he had to partake in to continue to be alive like some of the gym bros you knew. This time the wistfulness of his tone is more evident and you easily catch it in his words. 

“You can’t enjoy food?” you inquire, sharply. You’re aghast. You could never imagine living such an abhorrent half-life. This was primarily one of the reasons that you were anti-Edward during the Twilight craze of the 2010s. You would never give up on the pleasures that came from eating to exchange it for a life of drinking only blood for sustenance.

“I don’t need to eat food to survive,” admits Jungkook forlornly, “I can’t enjoy it at all; it's just mastication for me. Like I’m chewing on sawdust covered in spices. But I still do it. It’s the only way to remind me of my humanity. And it looks so good. I can smell it but it tastes like nothing much and I can’t savor it at all.”

You quirk an eyebrow silently. This was the first hint you had gotten into Jungkook’s person. He used to be human once upon a time. You don’t want to rock the boat so you don’t hedge for more details. 

“That’s horrible,” you cry out instead, visibly livid on his behalf. “Would it help if I ate for the both of us?” 

He laughs again and pushes his salmon towards you, “Only because I know how much you adore seafood. You won’t be able to get the wine or dessert away from me though,” he warns. 

You just grin at him and he returns a lopsided one at you, his eyes crinkle at the corners softening his gaze as his dimples make an appearance for the first time. You gawk at him, mesmerized by his gorgeous features. He’s so handsome. You wonder if he was this handsome before he was a genie or if being a genie amped up his attractiveness so you would fall under his lure like a siren with her prey. Nah, with your luck Jungkook was probably born looking like Adonis. 

You two eat in comfortable company, the conversation ebbing and flowing freely. You tell Jungkook about your job as an admissions counselor and the terrible guilt you feel when you can’t help one of your students accomplish their dreams of graduating from one of the best four year universities in the nation. Jungkook oohs and aahs while also making sounds of dismay at the appropriate moments. He’s a great listener; he’s super involved in the conversation and makes you feel important as though what you’re sharing deserves to get heard. You’re not sure how much of it is an act he’s putting on for your benefit to fulfill your wish and how much of it is him going above and beyond, but you greatly appreciate it. Today might just be the best day of your life. You’ve been treated like a queen the entire time. 

In exchange for sharing your little anecdotes you beg Jungkook to share something with you to keep the repartee going. With a groan he gives into you, and animatedly chats to you about the time he had a vampiress find his lamp.

You gasp loudly, “Vampires aren’t real Jungkook!” you can’t stop laughing. It’s a good thing you weren’t chewing because you would have spit out your fancy dinner all over the pristine white table cloth.

He wags his eyebrows at you with a cocky smirk painting his lips, “Oh? Are you sure? I mean I’m a genie, Y/N. It would make sense for there to be other magical beings besides me. I wasn’t born into existence as a genie, I was created.”

“Yeah,” you murmur softly, is this your moment to ask Jungkook how it had all begun? “Jungkook, I—”

 “Monsieur, mademoiselle,” one of the servers had returned with your desserts in tow, intruding on your conversation, “crème brulée à la lavande.”

He places two leaf shaped cream colored ramekins in front of the pair of you. You hum in astonishment as you take in the delectable looking lavender infused crème brulée with the browned sugar crust and the decorative buds of lavender on top. It smells faintly floral and you just know that when you taste it, your tongue is going to be in heaven, tasting the delicate yet complex layers to the dish.

Jungkook smirks at you cockily before he spoons up a sizable scoop of the crème and pulls it into his mouth, his lips pursing around the utensil until he sucks off all the dessert on the ladeled part. He hums his pleasure as his tongue rolls around in his mouth, sucking in the taste of the rich cream and the sweet sugar that is roped through it. His eyelids turn heavy and you have to suck in a breath when you realize this is probably what Jungkook would look like if he ate you out and was savoring the taste of your juices on his velvety lush tongue. 

You’re flustered but you can’t let him have the upperhand. You pick up the little dessert spoon and tap on the sugar crust, cracking it softly before you carefully scoop some of the confection onto your utensil, making sure to get both the hardened sugar and the smooth cream underneath.

You moan around it as you close your mouth with the first bite. You’re in heaven, you’re not sure you have ever had anything that was quite as rich or decadent as this before in your life. The velvety texture of the crème brulée swamps your tongue while the sugar melts into it from the heat of your warm, lush mouth. Your senses are heightened as you can taste every single ingredient that has gone into the dish and you inhale sharply before letting out another soft moan of satisfaction.

You wrap your lips around the spoon as you twirl your tongue around it to make sure you’ve gotten every last bit of the dessert off of it before you release from your mouth with a light pop. There’s a gossamer thread of spit connecting your lip to the spoon so you quickly dart your tongue out to break it. The male next to you shudders lightly, his breath hitches raggedly as he glares at you with hard eyes that have gone dark from the heat of his debauched desires. 

“Y/N,” he warns, groaning lightly, his tongue nearly poking a hole through his cheek in his irritation.

“Hmm?” you reply with faux innocence, determined to play with fire tonight. You don’t want to get burned tonight, oh no, you want much much more than that. You want to get consumed by the flames that have Jungkook within their hold.

You continue to eat up your crème brulée slowly, savoring each and every carefully scooped spoonful. Your tongue rolls in your mouth after each bite as you try to lick up all of the cream from the crevices before you go in for the next spoon. You’re not playing up your reactions by any means; it’s so delicious and rich, meant to be relished. And Jungkook is, figuratively, eating up all of the noises slipping between your plump sugar covered lips. His jaw is tight, lips thinned into a harsh line as he heatedly glares at you.

“It seems to me like you want something else to draw out those little pathetic sounds from your throat,” Jungkook grates, “until, perhaps, they are full blown moans of ecstasy.”

You still when you feel his long sinuous fingers gripping into the soft flesh of your exposed thigh. His palm is feverishly hot against your skin and Jungkook takes advantage of the fact that you’re wearing a mini dress to push your thighs apart and slip his hand in between. 

“Ju-Jungkook,” you stammer, letting your spoon clank against the ramekin where there’s still more than half of the dessert left. Your hands go to where his is cupping your cunt through the diaphanous black mesh thong you’re wearing from Agent Provocateur, you pull at his arm and attempt to take it off but you’re unable to shake the grip he has on you as his fingers stroke lines against the seam to your cunt through the thin, ineffective barrier of your panties. The pad of his index finger runs its path up and down until your pussy lips feel swollen, the folds sensitive and inflamed, as you slowly wet the mesh material until it’s practically invisible from how drenched it becomes. 

“What are you doing?” he hisses, his tone both gruff and lethal. “Get your hands off of me.” 

Your insides warm as you get aroused from his harshness and you let your hands fall off from where they were still attempting to pull him away. You already had a flush from the wine earlier heating your skin but now the blood crawls up your chest and rushes to your cheeks for a different reason.

“Don’t you have a dessert to eat, Y/N?” Jungkook mocks, pausing his fingers’ wickedly dexterous pursuit.

“I-I,” you stutter, “Y-y-yes, Jungkook.”

Your body was turned 90 degrees so that you could face him but when he raises an eyebrow that means ‘Get on with it,’ you instantly turn back around to properly face the dinner table and pick up your spoon from the ramekin with a shaking hand. You scoop up some of the dessert into your mouth and nervously close your lips around it, hyper aware of everything that is happening around you, on the tether hooks as you wait with bated breath for Jungkook’s next move.

He pinches your clit, invoking a squeal to slip out of your mouth as your walls flutter around nothing, clenching in dismay. “Why so silent, Y/N? Aren’t you enjoying your dessert? I think I’m going to feast on you though.”

“Mmpfh,” you moan behind clenched teeth, hurriedly swallowing down the velvety cream and spooning up another bite to place into your mouth, “It’s so good, Jungkook,” you gasp breathlessly.

“Good,” Jungkook grunts into your ear, he’s halfway out his chair, his body stretching over the small distance between your seats. His chest is digging into your shoulder and he has an arm, the one whose digits aren’t currently focused on stroking you into madness, wrapped around your back so that he can slip it around the front and hold your neck in it’s grip, squeezing it lightly in warning. Your breath catches in your throat and you gulp, able to feel every cold curve of each individual metal ring on his fingers lightly pressing into your skin. 

“You want to keep eating, Y/N?” Jungkook murmurs, hot breath tickling your ear as his lips brush against it before he pulls your delicate lobe between his teeth. 

“N-No!” you protest.

“Oh?” He quips. His voice has gone low and raspy, the tenor of his tone licking flames in the pit of your stomach, causing your nerves to tingle from anticipation, “Got something else in mind for dessert, princess?”

You pause hesitantly. The words are stuck in your throat.

“Go on, Y/N, tell me what my bratty spoiled princess really wants for dessert,” Jungkook growls, removing his long nimble fingers from the wet heat of your cunt when you don’t answer him.

Your hands immediately fly down, pressing down on his to keep it trapped between your warm palms and your waxed, bare mons. “You, Jungkook. You,” you wail, “I want you for dessert.”

“I thought so,” murmurs the genie silkily. He removes his hand from your throat, his thumb rubbing circles into the delicate flesh before his fingers move away to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. He unwinds his arm from around you, choosing to grip your chin, tilting your mouth up before meeting your lips in a fervent messy embrace.

It’s more desperate than sensual, a frantic clashing of lips as your tongues tangle with each other and your teeth almost knock against each other from the brutal force of the kisses. Jungkook drags your plump lower lip into his mouth, his teeth lightly nipping on it while he sucks until it feels raw and battered. His hand is tangled into your hair and he’s gripping on those locks tightly to maneuver your head in the exact position he wants. You ignore the pain erupting from your scalp as your palms freely roam the length of his upper body, slipping under the thin cotton T-shirt he had on to rake your long acrylic nails against his warm, muscled back. Your fingers travel up to his broad shoulders, gripping them under his shirt until you leave little crescent indentations from your nails on his flesh.

Jungkook shifts his lips from yours as he leaves you gulping for air, struggling to catch your breath. “My fucking selfish princess has bitten off more than she can chew on her quest to feast on everything she possibly can,” he murmurs, his hot breath fans over your cheek before he softly nips on the plumpest part of it. When you gasp at the sting, his tongue immediately darts out to soothe the pain as he licks up the side of your face messily. “Baby, you made a deal with the devil for these wishes,” he rumbles.

Your dress barely covers your chest which hectically heaves as Jungkook trails suctioning, bruising kisses down the length of your throat on the path to your breasts. The shimmery wine red cloth is barely hanging on to you as your hardening nipples struggle to keep them in position acting as the only thing holding them in place. The slippery cloth has almost fallen down several times, and you are millimeters away from suddenly exposing your entire upper half to the birds that are flying around as you sit on your sky high dinner date.

Jungkook’s strong agile fingers pull at the fabric as his mouth finds the large exposed expanse of cleavage available to him. He gently presses his lips on your soft warm skin before he parts them to leave hard open mouthed kisses on your breasts. When he’s finally able to get a strong enough purchase on the dress that he can pull it down to your waist, he deftly plucks the nude silicon pads off and flings them into the night sky before wrapping his lips against one of your hardened peaks.

His fingers are strumming at its twin while Jungkook sucks and sucks at your nipple like he thinks that he can get it to leak if he tries hard enough. That thought makes you still. An impregnation kink? You had never thought of it before but the thought of Jungkook fucking you with the sole purpose of breeding you and making you round and luminous as you carry his children, your breasts large and your curves plumper and softer than before has your heart beating loudly and erratically in your chest.

“Hey,” he complains when he notices you've gotten sidetracked in your thoughts. He bites down on your furled bud to draw back your attention, “Where did you go? Someone’s getting greedy. Do you need more, princess? Do you need me to do more so you’ll pay attention to me?”

“I,” you stammer. But Jungkook ignores you, he uses both of his hands to maneuver your skin clinging dress over your hips and then he tucks two fingers into the thin ribboned band of your underwear, pulling it away from your heated skin until the delicate mesh falls apart from his use of force, getting ripped straight off of your cunt. His jaw absentmindedly falls open a little as takes in the sight of your glistening pussy folds. 

“Oh, baby, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs. 

He plunges his middle finger in, going deep within your core as he curls it up, pumping within you so furiously that you can hear loud squelching sounds coming from your gushing pussy.

“Jung-Jungkook,” you whine. You need more. You need to be stuffed. “Jungkook, I can take more!” The last word comes out as a scream when he suddenly thrusts his ring finger and pinky inside you too. All three digits are assailing your insides, your core tightens around them, clenching hard but it doesn’t stop his intensity as he makes a complete mess of your pussy, wetness gushing out and dripping on your seat, trailing down your parted thighs. 

He has the side of his face pressed against your chest, your stiffened tips poking harshly into his right cheek as he glances downwards at the wreckage he’s created from the fruits of his labor. Your head is bent with your chin tucked on top of his crop of dark cyan hair, your long tumbling locks of hair falling forward to hide your expression as Jungkook makes you lose your mind underneath him.

“Your clit is so swollen, sweet girl, do you want me to rub it?” He asks, turning towards your breasts, rubbing his face into them, his nose tickling the valley between them. 

“Yes, Jungkook,” you urge breathlessly, “Please.”

His thumb and forefinger pinches that little sensitive bead, rolling it in between them before rubbing it side to side in a rapid, furious pace. “Or maybe it’s still not enough,” Jungkook wonders, “Do you want my head buried between those thighs as you ride your way to release or do you want my cock pounding you into submission, baby?”

Your mouth is hanging open, you can barely think, let alone put together a string of words that will have Jungkook satisfied with your reply. “Jungkook,” you pant, “I need—”

“Monsieur Jeon?” the waiter inquires after returning.

You still immediately, your head bending even further to conceal your body with your hair though you are already covered by Jungkook’s body on top of yours.

“Yes, Pierre,” Jungkook murmurs, not moving his face away from the comfort of your breasts. You hadn’t even realized that had been the name of your server.

“If you and mademoiselle are done with your dinners we can take you back to the ground.”

“Yes, thank you, Pierre. We would appreciate that.”

“I will go inform the team,” Pierre acquises, “Would you like for me to get more wine as we make our way down?”

“I think we are fine for now,” assures Jungkook. 

When the staff finally leaves you push Jungkook off of you, straightening up your dress, pulling it over your breasts and tugging it down to cover your bottom again. 

Jungkook merely smirks, purring, “You’re changing your tune so soon, princess? I take it you don’t want for things to continue when we’re on the ground then?”

You stiffly cross your arms over your chest, using them as supports under your breasts to hold onto the dress and keep it from slipping down and making you expose yourself to all of the sky high restaurant’s crew since Jungkook had gotten rid of your bra pads.

“Did you have to do that?” you demand.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, princess,” Jungkook fibs.

You roll your eyes, “It’s not enough that every time we do something it’s in public but you’ve started to destroy my underwear too.”

“Oh relax, Y/N,” Jungkook coaxes, “Your rack is spectacular and will be doing a more than great job of holding up your dress. You have nothing to worry about. And even if you did ever expose yourself to anyone you didn’t want to, I would just erase their memories for you.”

“My hero,” you simper sarcastically, tugging on his right ear.

The male narrows his eyes at you, consideringly. His front teeth nip at his bottom lip and you know that you’ve gotten yourself in trouble again as Jungkook thinks up ways to get back at you during the descent of the restaurant. 

When you are finally back touching solid ground, you are able to messily untangle yourself from the harnesses that kept you secured to your seat. You almost fall flat on the ground when you gingerly step off the platform you two had been eating on, towards the cracked pavement of the empty lot. Your legs had turned into jelly during their time up in the air, it’s a combination of vertigo and your legs still being shaky from having you edged to an orgasm that was woefully stolen away from you.

Jungkook immediately catches you in his arms, peering down at you softly before coming to a decision. He lowers himself, bending down to wrap his arms around your back and thighs more securely, before picking you up in a bridal carry. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him after hesitantly locking your arms around his thick neck.

“So,” he hedges, moving his face forward so that he can nudge at your plump cheeks with his nose. “Should the night end here princess?” he asks, “Or do you want the fun to continue when we get back home?”

“Yes, please,” you quietly beg.

Jungkook gently brushes his lips against your forehead before escorting the two of you home in a whirlwind cloud of gold dust before you two suddenly reappear in the hallway in front of the two of your rooms.

“Are we sleeping in different rooms tonight?” Jungkook inquires, just to check that your mind hasn’t changed within the last two minutes.

“Take me to your bed,” you softly urge the genie as you upturn your face, your nose nudging against the thin scar across his left cheek. He swiftly traipses forward, his long legs reaching his door in one effortless stride. 

His room is similar to yours except his bed is bigger, you notice with envy, and his furniture appears to be made of black colored iron unlike the white painted pieces in your room. He sets you down in front of him as he goes to close the door.

“Jungkook, babe,” you call out to his back. He raises an eyebrow as he turns to face you again. “Can you help me with my zipper? It’s a little hard for me to get it down.”

The slim invisible zipper to your deep burgundy shimmery dress is located right on the topmost part of your ass since it’s a mostly backless piece. Jungkook crowds you from behind, his massive frame enveloping yours as his long deft fingers go to zip you down. You shudder as his knuckles brush against the warm sensitive skin of your back, each touch sending a lighting bolt of attraction shooting up your spine while causing arousal to pool between your thighs. When the zipper is halfway down, resting on the swell of your ass, you step out of his hold. 

You turn around to face him as you pull down on the thin straps of the dress, letting them hang around your elbows as your bust works overtime to keep the dress up. With a twisted smirk painting your plush lips, you shimmy out of the glittery wine colored fabric, letting it pool around your Saint Laurent encased feet before stepping out of the circle of clothing lying on the ground. You lithely stalk towards Jungkook, your hair a sexy mess around your shoulders, curling into your breasts and brushing against your nipples as you make your way to the genie, completely nude since he had gotten rid of all of your underwear a while back.

Jungkook’s eyes softly shutter close as you finally reach him, his eyelids fluttering as he raggedly takes in a deep breath. You look utterly divine wearing only gold jewelry and your long strappy black heels that make your sun kissed limbs look miles long. You wrap your arms around his thick neck, pressing your heaving breasts against his hard pectoral muscles, “Jungkook?”

His hands grip onto your hips pulling your smooth crotch against his clothed one as he backs the two of you into the door. His hard pulsating cock is pressed against your slit and it makes you whimper when you shift and the zipper to his pants hits your clit. He secures his arms across your ass, pushing you up into his hold, making your toes tip because even in your heels you’re unable to be face to face with him. The man is sexily and inconveniently tall. Balancing all of your weight on your toes and Jungkook’s arms, you stretch so that your face is aligned with his and you can comfortably kiss him. Your teeth grab for his plump lower lip and pull it between yours so you can suck on that lush flesh, agitating it so it becomes red, wet, and swollen.

A subtle growl starts low in Jungkook’s chest as he pushes your body even further up and as you lose your footing you tangle a leg around Jungkook’s hips. His other hand moves up to roughly capture your jaw in its hold, locking you in position as he aggressively meets your lips back. His kisses are greedy and all-consuming; Jungkook kisses you like he’s a starving man and you are his first meal in a long time. His hand, the one that's gently hanging by your ass, starts to knead the supple flesh and your breath catches in your throat as you let out a choked gasp. His fingers are right by your puckered sensitive hole and you’re reminded of the fantasy you had had the night before he came into your life. Of a man touching and stroking you there in that forbidden orifice and working you up. 

Meanwhile, his mouth is busy; his tongue is prodding its way past your lips, slipping in and licking a torrid path in the lush cavern of your mouth. It’s agile and long, and the strong wet muscle twirls with your own, easily taking control of your mouth. The sounds slipping out of both of your lips as you continuously meet each other for more and more impassioned kisses are obscene; they’re loud wet sounds of fervent hunger that grow more frantic as the kisses persist.

Your core is clenching around nothing and it has you rutting against Jungkook’s crotch like a bitch in heat, leaving a dark damp patch on the black fabric of his dressy joggers. Jungkook stops stroking and squeezing your ass to pull your other leg around his hips until your stiletto heels are digging into his butt and you are wrapped entirely around his body like a koala. He backs away from the door, his lips breaking apart from yours so he can look where he is walking and carrying you. You are still kissing him though; your lips have trailed down to kiss and bite along his jaw and neck, you even let yourself suck on his Adam’s apple which has him gulping and your lips stretching into a smirk against the flushed smooth flesh  of his throat, as you can feel every movement underneath the delicate skin.

He carefully drops you onto the bed, taking precaution not to fall over with you and crush you underneath his weight. You stare up at him, wide-eyed as your lips part with hunger and surprise at the change in position. His large doe eyes have gone black with lust, becoming heavy lidded as they travel up the entire length of your body with lazy glances. 

He steps in between your parted legs, his hands curling around your soft meaty thighs, dimpling into them with the pressure from his fingertips. “Let me eat you out?” he asks huskily, his tenor sounding ragged and raspy.

“Please,” you beg with wide eyes shining with lust. Your legs part even more to let Jungkook see just how wet your folds are.

He sinks to his knees before you, holding down on your thighs as he lowers himself to the ground. He places a flurry of light open mouth kisses against your soft thighs as he nudges them apart and pulls you forward so that your ass hangs off the bed and he can throw your legs over his shoulders. Your Saint Laurent encased limbs spasm against his back and the pointed heels dig into his white T-shirt making him grunt as he falls forward a little. 

You let out a pained whine when you notice Jungkook manages to catch himself right before he faceplants onto your cunt. He slowly lowers his face, nose tenderly nudging at your slit before he purses his lips and kisses at your folds. He gently mouths at the petals of oversensitive and swollen flesh, softly lapping at the juices that cling to them. You let out a shrill, frenzied moan when he flattens his tongue against your core, licking long and hot fat stripes down the opening. Your fingers snake into his damp indigo colored locks, drenched from his sweat, scratching your acrylic nails against his scalp as you attempt to push him down further into your crotch. 

He slides his hands up your warm thighs making your muscles contract at the sensation before he grabs onto your hips, guiding their motion with his grip. He lets you rock against his mouth frantically, opening his jaw wide as your juices that he’s unable to capture drip down his chin. You wail, letting out a desperate sob as he buries his face deeper into your cunt licking and slurping like a man maddened from lust. His nose juts against your swollen inflamed clit as his teeth clamp down lightly on your folds and pull at them gently, making you convulse and twitch as you mindlessly shove your pussy against him. 

“Is this good, sweet girl,” he murmurs huskily, “Is this what you wanted?”

He brushes his plush lips over your clit, teasing you, tempting you until he has your laser focus drawn to what he is doing. It’s then that he starts working on that hyper responsive bundle of nerves, teasing that little bead with flicks of his tongue, hard focused snaps of his wet muscle against the overworked bud. He’s giving you everything; his mouth wrapping around your clit, his lips gently pressing against it in faux respite, his teeth nipping it to draw out cries, and his tongue manipulating it to make you turn feral. He’s got you in the palm of his hand and it makes him realize that he’s been neglecting you in perhaps the most important way.

“Is,” his tongue jabs into your core, “This,” his teeth clamp down on your clit, inducing tears to spring from your eyes, “Good,” he slurps at your arousal noisily, repeating the question.

You frantically nod in his direction before you realize he can't see your expression with his face shoved into your pussy. “Ye-Yes,” you choke out, clearing your throat that's gone rough from the constant stream of screaming that Jungkook’s been able to pull from your lips. You think it subsides him but then he tilts his head in a calculating way that’s got you freezing against him.

He pulls away to draw your attention back to his face, you glance at him with glazed over eyes that are confused yet frustrated. Staring right at you with sleepy, hooded lids, he holds your gaze as he runs his index finger up and down your fluttering core, gathering up your juices on top of his finger, using the transparent ropes of arousal to coat his finger, lubricating it before he plunges it into you. 

“Jungkook,” your legs spasm over his shoulders as you accidentally hit his back with one of your high heels. “I’m gonna c— I’m gonna COME! I can’t— I can’t take much more of THIS!” Your hips raise up from the bed as you squirm, fucking his finger into you since he hasn’t started moving it yet. 

He stares at you consideringly, “Fuck my fingers Y/N,” he raspily commands, “Fuck yourself to completion.”

You still, momentarily unnerved but Jungkook uses his thumb to flick the nail of his middle finger against your clit, which not only pulls out an embarrassing keen from your mouth but also spurs you into action, rocking your hips in fluid motions as your core takes in the entire length of his index finger.

You whine in frustration, complaining, “Jungkook, this isn’t enough!”

“I’d say make it enough,” the male responds, “If I hadn’t been tempting you all night long. Consider yourself lucky, princess.” And with that Jungkook shoves three more fingers in you, pumping them into you impressively faster and harder than he had ever teased you before, almost inserting half his hand, a centimeter into his palm as well, into the cunt he stretched out during dinner. It’s a good thing he thought to do that since you would be struggling when he finally took you. 

Your vision turns white as your eyes almost roll backwards and your teeth chatter, knocking into each other due to the violent intensity at which Jungkook was impaling your pussy with his fingers. Your thighs quake uncontrollably as you’re finally pushed to the brink. With your voice crescendoing into a needlessly long and cacophonously loud scream, you reach an earth shattering climax, slumping down onto the bed, your legs twitching absentmindedly.  

The male gets off of his knees, the bottom half of his face is still glistening with the remnants of your arousal. He stretches, his broad shoulders getting rolled back, before he one-handedly pulls off his fitted white tee in a decidedly sexy manner. Your eyes immediately shift to his bare upper half when you hear the clink of metal and you find yourself staring at, for the first time, his golden waist chain. The gossamer strands of metal are wrapped around his thin, sun bronzed waist, practically blinding you with the shine from their yellow color that glitters as it moves with every flow and shift of Jungkook’s body. 

Jungkook doesn’t let the chain hold your attention for too long, immediately distracting you as he unbuttons and undoes the fly on his dark cargo joggers. He lets the fabric hang loose around his hips as he palms his massive shaft though the black cotton of his Balenciaga boxer briefs. He rubs the bulbous tip of his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear as he toes off his imposing spiky heeled Chelsea boots. Once the shoes are off, he gently tugs on his pants, letting them pool around his ankles and stepping out of them.

He walks towards you almost nude except for the briefs that cling to his muscley thick thighs and show how pronounced his dick is as it struggles to pop out from behind the band. There is a cocky smirk painting his lovely coral colored Cupid’s bow and his nicely shaped eyebrows quirk in challenge as he steps in your direction. You groan in impatience and need as he stands in front of you, legs spread hips’ length apart. A light chuckle sounds from behind the plush lip he’s biting hard as he pushes down on the black elastic band of the underwear and his massive cock, which you have only felt against you but never seen before this moment, bounces out from the confines. He’s larger than you dreamed he could be, and you know better than to assume that Jungkook, fiercely competitive and authentic as he is, would increase the size with magic. 

Your hips are already subconsciously gyrating against the air as you take him in with a slackened jaw and numbly hanging open mouth. It’s girthy and twitching lightly, slightly bouncing as it stands proud free from the confines of pants and underwear. The mushroom tip is swollen and flushed a dark berry red. The thick protruding vein you wanna nibble on, runs along the underside of the cock and is more pronounced, becoming easier for you to see, when he holds up the shaft to rub at its bulbous head to work precum out of it, make the white viscous liquid bead from the tip. 

His cock is fucking pretty, and you want to suck on it, but a quick glance at the male reveals that he’s too impatient to let you do that now and just wants you to take him in. You can’t blame him after he’s gotten you off about half a dozen times over the course of the day without having blown off some steam himself. 

The tattoos along his arm seem to pop against his sun kissed skin as he strokes his cock which swells at the stimulation. “Ready princess?” he asks quietly.

“Please.” You beg a repetition of the one word that always finds its way easily to your lips when Jungkook is working you up. 

He guides his cock to your gushing slit, brushing the mushroom head against your folds, rubbing it into them causing his precum and your arousal to combine and mix. He slaps his head against your clit a few times before he deems you sufficiently drenched and ready to take him in. He slowly presses the round tip into your folds, hunting for your opening, his veiny hand guiding his shaft’s path. Slowly it breaches you, causing your mouth to fall open as a sex crazed look takes over your features. You moan a long, wanton sound at the intrusion, even though Jungkook took his time preparing you, it’s been more than a year since you’ve fucked anyone. With one hand still directing his cock, he uses the other to grab your hip to gently lift it up so he can palm the small of your back and push you up towards him.

You meet him eagerly, squirming as you help him get you up, throwing your arms over his shoulders and holding onto his neck with a deathgrip. He slowly moves the hand from your back to run along your hip and then your thigh so that he can wrap your curvy leg around his hip. Pulling your leg up had another advantage as well, now he can more easily enter you and he slams into you, impaling you with his cock until he is fully sheathed and your waxed bare mons meet the nicely groomed dark patch of hair on his pubic bone, your pelvises flush against each other. 

You can feel the ridges of his shaft sliding along your walls as they clench around him, letting you feel every bump and vein. “A-Ah,” you stutter as a mewl slips from your panting lips. “Jung—JUNGKOOK,” you cry out as his cock twitches within you and the tip just barely hits that elusive g-spot.

“Fuck,” he grunts before a guttural moan breaks out of him. 

“God, princess. This is what you wanted all along didn’t you. The entire day you’ve been teasing me. Tempting me with those fucking sly smiles and suggestive looks. You didn’t want a fucking considerate boyfriend you wanted a rude libertine to blow your back out. Isn’t that right—princess,” he hisses through his clenched teeth.

You’re unable to answer him as he quickens the pace, slipping in and out of you furiously, taking his cock almost entirely out with only his fat tip in you before thrusting manically again, pounding into your pelvis, battering up your insides and making you turn into a boneless pile of goo.

You’re practically drooling at this point while your eyes are shiny from the tears that come from his frantic impaling as he jackhammers into you. Your mouth is hanging open and he smacks the ass cheeks he’s been gripping onto this entire time when you don’t give him a reply.

“This.” Smack. “Is.” Smack. “What.” Smack. “You.” Smack. “Wanted.” Smack. “Isn’t it, princess?” he growls, ending off with one last smack.

“Yes, Jungkook!” you sob, “This is what I wanted!” You’re inconsolable as he continues with the frenzied onslaught of sex. 

He hauls you up even further, he had one arm hugging your lower back as the other focused on keeping your thigh firmly locked around his waist and then you’re bouncing on his cock in midair, the metal of his waist chain poking into the soft skin of your tummy every time the two of you met into the middle. It’s a good thing he’s helping you stay attached to him because with the way he is bending you over, making your back arch as he attacks your breasts and neck with impassioned bites and kisses, you would have fallen right off of him without the extra support.

He makes his way up to your mouth, peppering your skin with sucking kisses before finally reaching it and wildly attacking your lips with his in a messy frenzy of teeth and tongue. After what seems like long interminable moments, he finally releases your lips with a wet pop. There’s still a string of saliva connecting the two of you that breaks when he parts open his mouth and whispers sweetly against yours, “That’s all you had to say, princess.”

He picks up the pace as he buries his face into your neck, dead set on leaving a bruising hickey that will remain for several days. You press your lips against his crown, his blue hair tickling your nostrils as you attempt to silence your cries against his scalp. His hold on you tightens like he never wants to let you go, keeping your sweaty body clinging to his, his biceps flexing as he grips onto you and jackhammers uncontrollably, losing all signs of rhyme or rhythm, just knowing that he wants to be buried in your heat forever.

“Say you want this,” he demands. “Say you want ME!” The last word is punctuated by a brutal thrust that hits your g-spot perfectly and has you crying into his hair. 

“I want you,” you sob, “God, I need you Jungkook.” Your breasts are heaving against his hard pecs, your nipples dragging along the smooth solid planes of his chest as you struggle to get your words out.

If you could have seen Jungkook’s eyes at that moment, you would have seen how they turned reddish black, the color of molten lava as a look of pure possessiveness took over his features. But since you can’t see his face, you’re unaware of how your genie is falling for you just as easily as you are falling for him. 

The loud sounds of his balls hitting your skin resound through the bedroom and Jungkook never lets down on the pace. He fucks you into submission as you hang off of him, jellylike with no control over your spasming limbs. Jungkook takes your well timed bout of flexibility to maneuver your legs off of his thighs to hang off his elbows as he wraps his arms around your knees and has them circle behind you. This new height and shift in position has his hip rolls drag his cock through your folds in a more enticing manner, working up your engorged clit with every pounding. You almost forget that he’s no longer hitting your g-spot as you shriek loudly, your poor clit sobbing at the new brutal onslaught of stimulation. 

“Jungkook,” you keen, “God, Jungkook. I don’t know how much further I can go.”

“I’m sure you’ll keep up,” he hums meanly, as he pistons his hips again and again. You’re writhing against him, barely able to roll your hips to meet his every thrust anymore. You feel like you just ran a marathon and you’re approaching the last yard. The end is near and you can sense it with how overheated your body becomes and how you wince and whimper at every move Jungkook makes, able to feel every drag of his magnificent cock through your core down to what feels like the cellular level. Your walls keep clenching onto him tighter and tighter as well, reluctant to release him from their hold and he finds himself putting in even more effort into every snap of his hips.

“You’re almost there aren’t you, sweet girl,” he mumbles against your throat, biting harshly along the delicate skin under your jaw and pulling at it with his front teeth. You can only let out a wordless amalgamation of sounds erupt from your throat as you moan. 

“Let me take you there, princess,” he mutters, “I’ll be your guide, darling.” He bucks into you one last time and he’s almost done it. He’s sent you there to that precipice. You’re hanging on the high but you need to come down. All it takes is one pinch from his clever fingers to your bruised clit as he bites down on your shoulder and you’re there, screaming as you hit your release, gushing around him like a broken sprinkler while Jungkook soothes the abused flesh with soft kitten licks from his tongue, his cool saliva covering the tender area like a balm. 

As you hang of his body, your head sagging against his chest, arms no longer bothering to hold onto his neck, the male lets a faint smile grace his lips, holding you up with his impressive strength, gently rocking his cock into your drenched folds a couple more passes over before he explodes inside of you, painting your walls with his hot viscous ropes of white cum. 

You’re practically asleep in his arms when he’s struggling to pull his shaft out of your fluttering folds that still want to keep it sheathed in their slick embrace, warming his cock with their heat, but he persists, gently dragging it out. The amount of cum that flows out from between your thighs after that is almost obscene. 

Jungkook looks back at his bed before glancing at the mess the two of you have created and decides that the best thing to do right now would be to magically make the liquid disappear before also cleaning you two up like you two had come straight out of a shower. Once your skin is glowing and clean, he gently lays your body down on the right side of his bed, carefully making sure that your head is correctly positioned on the fluffy pillow before covering up your nudity with the silk comforter. 

He walks over to the other side and slips easily into bed, facing the ceiling as he reclines next to you, pondering something. He seems to finally come to a decision and the lights flicker off, swamping the room in darkness, as he turns over to face you and drags your body into his so that your ass is pressed against his front. Throwing an arm and a leg over your form that is loose-limbed in slumber, the male comfortably spoons you before he plunges into sleep as well. 

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License

©OPALJM 2021

[gertritude-art]

Progress Update...?

I mentioned this a while back, but here is the aforementioned progress update on the visual novel I’ve been working on!!  I wanted to get more done before I wrote this up, but college unfortunately keeps getting in the way (I have a month and a half left until I graduate, and I’ve been very busy because of it).  

Anyway, I still don't have an exact measure on how fully complete the ENTIRE thing is, but here is what I have done so far.  I've split the game up into the five broad sections I've been imagining it in my head (they are not equal in length):

OPENING 

This section covers the entire set-up of the game’s premise.  All of it takes place out in the woods.

writing: 50% complete, but fully planned - this percentage used to be larger until I had to scrap most of what I had written and start again :’) Honestly, it probably is more than 50% complete, but I’m giving the low estimate since I have a tendency to scrap large sections of writing in the editing process.

backgrounds: 100% complete!

CGS: cannot say until I’m fully finished writing it, unfortunately :(

MIDDLE

This section features Mordred running around his school’s Homecoming dance and meeting lots of odd characters.  Most of it takes place in the school, but you can visit the woods if you want to.

writing: 70% complete - this was the section I was trying to fully finish before this update, but school got in the way :’) Should be done by the end of next week, though!

backgrounds: Only one left to complete, which I have been putting off for months.  Please lend me your strength.

CGS: There are none in this section!  So I will call it 100% complete :^)

CLIMAX

A relatively short but very important section where lots of little pieces come together.  Can’t say anything other than that.

^ non-spoiler image that technically spoils this section but not in the way you would think 

writing: 50%-ish done; it’s quite short, though, and will probably only take about two days for me to write, once I sit down and focus on it.

backgrounds: This section re-uses backgrounds, but makes heavy use of the one I haven’t drawn yet.  We’ll call it... 40% done for this reason.

CGS: There are quite a few in this section, but I only have three done.  We will see how many more I need...

ENDGAME

Cannot describe this section without massive spoilers, but i can basically say it’s like:

mordred sowing: ha ha, yeah, this is so epic

mordred reaping: hey what the fuck is this

Including this story section of the game has granted me a massive amount of extra work, but I will force myself to do it if it means that the story will be stronger.  Anyway

^ spoiler-free image that describes this section

writing: ???% done - I made a massive change to its structure recently and now I need to see how much extra I need to write and how much I can keep

CGS: 0% done... this is a CG heavy section too, I imagine, so I can feel the pain already

backgrounds: either 0% or 50% done, depending on whether I go with one specific plot choice...

Most of the uncertainly in this section has come from me knowing exactly what plot elements I need, but struggling to find the best way to have these elements come together.  This will probably be the section I put off the longest.  I have to include it though because it has one scene I started writing back in october and god damn it i WILL have this scene finished

EPILOGUE

writing: 40%-ish done - this is a pretty short section, though, so it won’t take me long to finish it once I fully dedicate my time to it! backgrounds: 50%-ish done; this re-uses backgrounds from the middle section, but with characters drawn in different places - so, it won’t take that long to do, once I finally do it! CGS: 0% done.  The good news, though, is that I only need one CG!  I just haven’t drawn it yet :)

------

OTHER STUFF

SPRITES

- There are some edits to be made, but all the base sprites for the characters + many of the expressions are basically done.  At the moment, all that’s left is to draw some expressions for the characters, and then fully implement them into the game once everything is written.

ITEMS

- all drawn B) I still need to implement most of the point-and-click sections, though!

SOUND DESIGN

- leaving this until the end :(  I'll probably spend, like, two weeks straight on it lol ;w;

MENUS

- I will be honest.  I’ve been putting these off until the very end.  Literally the lowest on my list of priorities.

-----

IN CONCLUSION

This story has gone through quite a few changes since I had the first idea for it back in July.  At the moment, it’s only about 22,000 words long - although, I imagine I’ve written at least double+ that, if you count everything I’ve written and then rewritten/cut out from the final product.  I honestly don’t mind all the revisions I’ve made - I think they were necessary to figure out the best way to tell this story, and what words I’ve kept, I’m incredibly happy with.  

I had this lofty idea of finishing the game by the time I graduated (which, as of now, is in exactly six weeks), but it seems that this, unfortunately, will not be the case.  (This is an unfortunate habit I’ve always had, called “I have literally no idea how long things take and what I assume will take an hour will actually take, like, five days or something.”)  

I am still going to try to get as much as I can done by that time, though.  Hopefully, things will be a lot more complete by then :’)

Anyway, thank you to anyone who has stuck around to read this.  I appreciate your support of my creative adventures, even when it has taken me so long.

See you later,

- Gert