Author: @kpopfanfictrash as part of the Happy Ho-lidays collab with @floralseokjin , @suga-kookiemonster , @sugaurora , @underthejoon, @winetae and @btssavedmylifeblr
Pairing: Jungkook / Reader (female)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Ski Resort!AU / Snowboarder!AU
Word Count: 36,333
Rating/Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Fingering, oral (female receiving), hand job, mutual masturbation, breast play, some face riding, dirty talk, orgasm denial, clit smacking (is there a non plural form of this?), cum shot on chest
Mentions of past death (does not occur during story). Ankle injury (non-graphic). Yoongi is an enthusiastic MC. Bam is adorable. Jungkook has both lip and eyebrow piercing
Summary: The Inn on the Hill is in trouble. Or that’s what your boss, Namjoon, says during the last-minute All Staff holiday meeting he calls. You need money, and you need money fast, or his parents are planning to sell the resort. When no one can think of an easy solution, Namjoon proposes his parents’ idea: a weeklong social media blitz with a celebrity guest. The celebrity? None other than Jungkook Jeon himself: two-time Olympic gold medalist, world-class snowboarder and the nation’s sweetheart. What’s the problem? You happen to have met Jungkook Jeon before, and sincerely hoped you’d never see him again.
YN screeched, “Five hundred dollars?!” She threw her hands up. “I don’t see platinum joints in the walls or gold bricks lining the floors!”
She knew she was being dramatic, but someone had to say it.
The realtor, a guy with sharp sun-kissed features and dressed in all-black urban streetwear, squinted at her like she’d never paid rent before. “And how much did you pay for your last place, little lady?”
“Four hundred. For a 900 square foot concrete box with more holes than I have fingers. Oh, and a 24/7 view of my big-bellied neighbour on life support who thought he was the pornstar of my dreams. Never forgot to flaunt those hairy curves.”
The sunny man visibly gagged, shaking his head. “Right. So, compared to that, this place is a steal. No pervy neighbors. One-bedroom, kitchen, attached bath. Plus, a basement you could use for work or...”
He gave her a once-over. Twice.
...garage. Not that you have a car."
Rude. Also not wrong. Still rude.
Unbothered, he leaned back against the doorway, arms crossed. “And for your kind of work? This area is a gold mine.”
She blinked. “Therapy?”
“Exactly.” His eyes gleamed in the sunlight filtering through the cracked window. “A guy got murdered here just last week. Cold blood.”
Red flag. Huge one. Waving right in her face. 4K
He leaned in, like this was the best sales pitch in the world. “Low-cost living, high trauma. Gym down the street full of men and women with emotional damage and zero coping skills. Gangsters, goons, unhealed childhoods. You’re surrounded by walking case studies. Play it smart, you’ll be cashing in.”
Y/N nodded slowly, while her mind spun faster than the cracked ceiling fan above.
Later, at a dingy café with even dingier coffee, Y/N pulled out a napkin and scribbled a list:
Pros:
Cheap rent
No hairy curve-flashing neighbors
Free crime stories for dinner talk
Work in basement = cool
Cons:
Possible ghost
Definite murder
Gym full of potential murderers
May die
She sipped the watery coffee. It tasted like regret. Or maybe beggars really can’t be choosers.
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Twenty-four floors above the crumbling city, Jungkook lounged in his leather chair, one boot resting casually on the windowsill. In his tattooed hand, a glass of dark liquor swirled as neon lights flickered across his face, cutting shadows into the sharp angles of his jaw. The skyline blinked like it owed him money.
Things were going too well.
“They’re celebrating, Taehyung,” he muttered, watching the grainy feed on the screen. His enemy, Brad's crew, hooting around crates like they’d just unlocked military-grade loot in a video game. “Those dumbasses think they scored premium Russian stock.”
Taehyung scoffed. “Premium? Bro, I wouldn’t trust those guns to shoot a water balloon from two feet. They jam if you sneeze near ’em.”
“Exactly,” Jungkook grinned, cruel and gleaming. “Third-grade polymer, stuffed with recycled metal, painted like they’ve seen war. And the cherry on top? They paid for it with a loan… from a Shell company under my false name. 50% interest rate. But of course, they don’t know that yet.”
Taehyung raised a brow, smirking. “Using your money to buy your fake guns to wage war against you. That’s fucking Shakespearean.”
“Nah,” Jungkook said, sipping slow, “that’s just business with extra glitter.”
A waitress dressed skimpily slid by, carrying whiskey and dead dreams. No one looked at her. The room was full of better distractions: drugs, drinks, bodies, and sin. But for Jungkook, the real high came from watching stupid men dig their own graves with polished shovels.
He rewound the video. One of Brad's men held a rifle to the light, nodding like it was divine. Jungkook hit record. “Make sure we film the moment these toys jam on them. I want a full fucking highlight reel. Send it to them with a fruit basket later.”
Taehyung snorted. “Operation Dumbass Deluxe in full swing.”
“Oh yeah,” Jungkook said, voice low and smug. “And get this...before they took the guns, they signed a supply agreement. Buried clause, bottom line, unread. They basically sold me the rights to two coastal cities if they default.”
“You’re kidding.”
“They won’t read it until it’s already mine.”
Silence fell, heavy, the kind that comes just before gunshots or bad decisions.
Taehyung chuckled. “You’re a bastard.”
Jungkook smiled slow and shark-like. “But an efficient one.”
He turned back to the window. The city looked small from up here. Like something he could fold and put in his pocket.
“Double the security on the west blocks. When these idiots realize the guns don’t work, they’ll panic. Try to retaliate...fast and dirty.”
“Landmines or snipers?”
“Both. And a drone. I want a drone hovering over them playing circus music when they try to fire those guns.”
Taehyung was still laughing when he left the room.
Jungkook stayed behind, watching the skyline like a man admiring his own reflection. This city ran on blood and bad decisions, and he owned both.
The floor below thumped with bass and bodies. His men were getting high on power, flesh, and illusions. But he? He got high on control.
And somewhere, way across the city, a young therapist with a cracked phone, student debts, and a chip on her shoulder was signing a lease.
Did she know the building sat on the edge of a war zone?
Did she know her future clients included half the city’s most broken criminals?
Not yet. Would it change her mind if she knew her place was built on the hotspot of an active volcano dressed as a human?
The landlady’s voice could probably shatter glass and definitely Y/N’s patience.
Under her breath, Y/N muttered, “Why not donate that banshee voice to a startup, ma’am? Maybe they’ll turn it into clean energy or something. At least then you’d be useful after wasting oxygen all these years.”
“What did you just say, you ungrateful brat?” the woman shouted, her voice echoing off the cracked, peeling walls.
This so-called house that this old woman was howling about was falling apart. It wasn’t 'affordable vintage charm.' It was just five stages of grief. The only free luxury was sunlight leaking through a massive hole in the ceiling. If Y/N stretched far enough, she could probably high-five a pigeon.
“I said shouting isn’t good for your blood pressure,” she replied with a tight, polite smile that didn’t match the irritation bubbling inside. “I’ll pay you in the evening. But for that, I need to actually go to work.”
“Who the hell would come to you, dimwit? Other than those spiders nesting in your dusty little clinic!” the landlady snapped. “Even they need therapy after living with you!”
Y/N stared at her blankly. The audacity. And in orthopedic slippers no less.
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Meanwhile, in a shadowy alley on the other side of the city...
The air didn’t just smell bad. It stank of rust, mold, and something that used to be alive.
A silver blade flashed, quick and cruel, slicing through a man’s trembling hand. His cry echoed down the alley, but it didn’t last long. The next stab landed in his stomach. Blood spilled fast. So did his insides, sliding out across the wet pavement.
A laugh followed. Low. Cold. Heartless.
Jungkook stood over the body, wiping the knife clean on the dying man’s shirt.
“I’ve eaten sushi smarter and more useful than this idiot,” he muttered.
He was dressed in black from head to toe. Tailored jacket, designer watch, boots that probably cost more than a building’s rent. The blood pooling at his feet didn’t bother him in the slightest.
“Clean this up,” he said to his men, snapping the knife shut. “And tell that rat in Sector Seven if he sends another spy, I’ll cut his balls off and hang them from my rearview mirror.”
His men moved without hesitation. One dragged the body away like it was an old mattress. Another wiped up the blood with quiet focus. No panic. No guilt. Just another night on the job.
Jungkook slid into the backseat of a blacked-out car and lit a cigarette. He inhaled like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his temper entirely.
“Third one this week,” he muttered to Taehyung, his trusted man, apart from Jimin. “Is it really that hard to get through a day without betrayal, whining, or someone trying to be clever?”
Taehyung, behind the wheel, gave a lazy shrug. “You’re scary. That tends to attract challengers.”
Jungkook blew out a stream of smoke. “Next idiot who crosses me is getting served his own tongue on a plate.”
The car rolled off into the night, swallowed by shadows. The alley fell silent again, at least until someone else made the mistake of thinking they could outlive a warning.
He ruled the city with bullets, fear, and a silver knife collection that probably had names.
Until one broke therapist moved into town with nothing but a diploma, a busted kettle, and enough student debt to terrify him.
Now? Jungkook, a feared mafia king, professional menace can’t even swear without accidentally quoting Taylor Swift.
Not because her beauty or brains stunned him (he’ll stab anyone who suggests it).
He just... physically can’t.
“What in the supernatural f-ing is this?! I just wanted to call someone a dumbass, not sing You Belong With Me,” he barked absolutely unhinged and one heart-shaped curse away from a breakdown.
Alternatively,
In a non-idol AU where chaos usually reigns supreme, Jeon Jungkook rules the city with guns, fear, and an unholy vocabulary.
Enter Y/N, a broke, exhausted therapist just trying to survive capitalism, bad coffee, and emotionally constipated clients.
But fate has jokes.
Because ever since Jungkook crossed paths with her, he’s been cursed, literally. He can’t cuss, can’t shoot, can’t even glare without his body betraying him or his mouth spitting out pop lyrics.
Now the city’s most feared man is trapped in a pink-bowed orbit of therapeutic energy, and he’s losing control. Of his empire. Of his language. And maybe...just maybe...his heart.
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A non idol au.
Pairing: Jungkook and Y/N
Troupe: enemies to lovers, slow burn.
Warnings: mature language. Please read only if you are above 18 and comfortable with mature themes.
Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist…
Genre: Comedy • Fluff • Smut
Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers
Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx • @underthejoon • @yeojaa • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi
Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •
Acknowledgements:
To @ppersonna (Lindy) @underthejoon (Fal) and @xjoonchildx (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.
To @untaemedqueen (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you.
To @hobi-gif for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted… Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor.
To @lemonjoonah as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar.
Please Picture This Taehyung:
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”
“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”
Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow.
“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”
The man in question shifted uncomfortably.
“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”
“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though… I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”
Taehyung’s jaw dropped.
“You RECORDED IT?!”
Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.
“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”
“He did WHAT?!”
Your mother winced.
“Jimin was… uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”
“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”
Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite.
“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events…”
Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them.
“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”
The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough.
“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered.
“Oh sweetheart… it isn’t you we don’t trust…”
Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back.
You would play along with their humiliating schemes.
For now.
“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me?
For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous.
“Kim Taehyung.”
You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa.
Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader (ft. Yeontan bc Family)
Genre: Flufffff, established relationship, long distance relationship (not for long), and like, slight angst at the beginning if you squint your eyes and do a backflip
Word Count: 4k
Summary: Long distance relationships are never an easy thing, and although you and Taehyung had managed to make it work for four years and were used to not seeing each other that much already, he couldn’t help but feel like his birthday was ruined at the news of you being stuck at the airport due to a bad weather flight delay. However, although things didn’t quite go to plan, it only took for you to arrive two hours before the day was over for it to be his happiest of birthdays so far.
A/N: Hellooo, well, obviously this is for my man’s birthday 🥳💝 This story takes place in my Red Flags series’ timeline since one of you requested it and I thought it would be really cute, but you don’t need to have read it to understand what’s going on here. I hope you guys enjoy! please let me know your thoughts~
“You were supposed to be here today” Taehyung reminded you, unconsciously tightening his hold on the phone as his low voice did a good job at letting you know just how upset he was.
You sighed, that alone letting him know you weren’t having a good time with said fact that was just not happening anymore either. “I can’t control the weather, love…”
Now, he knew that. Of course he knew that. But right then, he really fucking wished you did control the weather. That way you wouldn’t be stuck in another continent still due to a snowstorm that had delayed, if not cancelled, all flights that week — a stupid snowstorm that was keeping you away from him for longer than you should have.
gummygunk
origamiaround
