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[tranquilreign]

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♡ tranquilreign | twenty-three | she/her | scottish

♡bts♡ ♡namjoon♡ ♡seokjin♡ ♡yoongi♡ ♡hoseok♡ ♡jimin♡ ♡taehyung♡  ♡jungkook♡

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[tranquilreign]

drabble #1

- all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

🗒 details

pairing; jungkook/reader warnings; vaping, mentions of smoking/vaping, mentions of anxiety and medication. word count: 748

Jungkook knew that the groups newest comeback would be stressful. The amount of pressure that weighed on their shoulders to be better than they had ever been was beginning to take its tole. Bodies and voices sore from the consistent high demand of their performances.

They were only a third of the way through their tour. The current stop being London. The crowd had been amazing, cheering them on and interacting with them, instead of trying to capture the memory through their phone. It was refreshing.

But his body was reaching it's limit for the day.

"Only two songs left," he whispered to himself, sitting backstage and staring into nothing.

It was getting hot, and he was struggling to focus, eyes blurring.

"How long until we go back on?" he asked one of the staff.

"Five minutes," she replied, taking a quick glance at her watch.

"I need to step outside," he announced.

Protests followed behind him, but he ignored it, moving to the door at the back of the stadium and shutting it quickly behind himself. A sigh escaped his lips, the screams seeming to have ceased, if only for a moment.

"Want a hit?"

The sudden voice startled him, not taking notice to the woman that stood next to him. Eyebrow raised, he scanned her, eyes falling upon the vape that was extended towards him.

He was tempted, knowing that the inhale always took some edge off for him.

"No thanks, I managed to stop smoking and vaping a while ago," he explained, looking back out to the darkening streets of London.

The woman simply shrugged, pulling the vape back up to her lips.

"Stressful day?"

Jungkook chuckled. "Guess you could say that."

The woman hummed, a smile gracing her features.

"Well, I suppose that's what happens when you're part of the biggest boyband in the world." Jungkook gave her a look. "Don't worry, I won't bring you any attention. Though, it is nice to meet you."

He paused. "Likewise, you're Korean is very good."

"Thank you," she replied. "I started learning a few years ago. Wanted to experience your songs properly, without having to look at English translations."

"Ah, so you're a fan?" Jungkook teased.

She snorted. "Of course, I am. Who isn't at this point?"

"Did you not manage to get tickets? If you're out here?" he asked, guilt forming in the pit of his stomach.

"I did," she chuckled. "I got them for tomorrow, though. I just tend to come to the back of the stadium on days were my anxiety spikes." Jungkook gave her a sympathetic look. "It's alright, I've been dealing with it for a while now."

"Have you not been to a doctor? To see if you can get any medication?" Jungkook asked cautiously, knowing that the topic of the doctors could be upsetting.

"I have," she paused, taking a draw from her vape. "A lot of the medication I was given actually made it worse. I ended up experiencing insomnia due to it, which as a result, was making my anxiety worse."

"I see," Jungkook muttered.

"It's fine, I've learned to live with it. Learned when I need to remove myself from situations or need to take a breather."

"It's not something I think you should just 'learn to live with,'" Jungkook fired back, not understanding why his concern was growing more for someone he barely knew.

She chuckled.

"If it makes you feel any better, I often listen to your music to help me focus and stay calm. Sometimes even if I'm needing a confidence boost."

There was a pause.

"I don't think you realise just how many people you and the rest of BTS have helped. You've taught a lot of youth how to love themselves, or accept their flaws. And for that, some of us will be forever grateful for that."

"Jungkook, we're on in 30 seconds," a new voice spoke.

Jungkook turned his head to the door, locking eyes with Yoongi, whose eyebrows were raised in confusion.

"I'll be right there."

Jungkook turned his head back around to the woman, noticing that she was now walking away.

"Hey wait! Where about in the crowd will you be tomorrow."

The woman looked over her shoulder, a small smile evident.

"I got VIP, so you'll see me in the crowd."

Jungkook hesitated. "And... your name?"

The woman now fully turned around, pulling the vape out from between her lips.

"Y/n. My name is Y/n."

[tranquilreign]

In honour of returning from London for days 1 and 2 of the concert (WHICH WERE SO GOOD I CRIED) I wanna reblog this <3

[joonam]

right place wrong person | knj

Pairing: Idol!Namjoon x Reader (f)

Genre: exes!au, forced proximity (because what am i without my fav trope), lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers (kind of), slow burn, angst, second-chance romance, heaps of miscommunication.

Summary: A booking mix-up forces you to share a secluded hanok with Namjoon, the ex you still resent, and who resents you just as much. What begins as an unwanted holiday becomes the closure neither of you knew you needed, and perhaps the start of something worth trying again.

Warnings: language, mentions of suicide and cheating (kind of).

Word count: 9.8k

a/n: this has been sitting in my fanfic folder for almost one year now. and finally decided to publish it because i saw pics of joonie in brussels and well.. i just had to. also, as this is a one-shot, there will not be a second chapter 🤍

check out my: masterlist

The hanok in Andong was supposed to be empty.

That was the whole point of booking it months in advance for seven days. All you wanted was just seven days of no work calls, no calendar notifications of when your next meeting would be, and no one asking you to explain something about work in a 30-minute meeting that could have been a short email. You needed this time alone to yourself. Just you, a stack of unread books that has been sitting around in your to-be-read list, and a wooden veranda that overlooked a persimmon tree.

You did not expect your ex boyfriend, Kim Namjoon, to be standing in the backyard of the hanok when you arrived with a duffel bag slung over your shoulder. And Namjoon was staring at the same booking confirmation on his phone that you had opened on yours. 

Neither of you said anything for a good one minute.

“It’s you again,” Namjoon said. 

And you just nodded at him because what the heck were you supposed to say to an ex you hated with your guts?

Thankfully the host came out just in time, wiping her hands on her apron, and she was very cheerful. Only because she had no idea what she just did. What booking you and Namjoon in her two-bedroom hanok at the same time would do to the peaceful area of Andong. 

"Oh good, you're both here! I ran this as a two-bedroom stay during the off season, but I forgot to change the description in that new website! If you expected to have the whole hanok to yourself, I am so sorry! I swear it was the new website and it's a new update! And I didn't think two separate bookings would land the same week. Lucky you, though, the whole place is yours," the middle aged host said. She was still very cheerful even though she acknowledged she made a mistake. 

Lucky would be the very last word you would describe this situation, you almost laughed at the host. 

Namjoon just stayed calm. You figured it was the media training of being in BTS for years that he managed to stay so calm. He is the leader of the biggest boyband in the world, he probably has faced more awkward situations than this. 

But you knew deep down how Namjoon felt. The two of you despised each other and you really didn’t want to go deep in history to explain to the host in front of you why this was a bad idea.

"I can find somewhere else," Namjoon finally said. Gosh, it has been so long since you’ve heard his voice. Years ago you would have been so wet down there just by listening to him talk, but now, you were trying so hard not to vomit. 

"Everything's booked out for the festival," the host replied, "you'll be fine, you'll be fine. The rooms have their own doors and modern bathrooms, you will only have to share the kitchen."

“Are you sure the whole area is booked? I just don’t want this young lady to feel awkward having to share this space with a male stranger,” Namjoon said to the host.

“Yes. I run most of the other places too, and they are all booked. Let’s ask the young lady then, would you be okay spending the next seven days sharing a kitchen with this man? He looks nice to me and looks familiar too!” the host said, smiling at you.

“As long as there is a key to lock my bedroom at night, I don’t really care,” you said, shrugging at the host. But when you turned to look at Namjoon, you showed him a gesture that expressed how you wanted him, the richest and most connected person out of you both, to find another place. 

Namjoon understood your gesture. How could he have not? You were his first love, someone whom he had a very, very hard and long time forgetting. But he didn’t care about what you were asking him to do, he booked this place because of how serene and peaceful its location is. Plus, the hanok was featured in an Architectural Digest, it has a beautiful architecture hence why the place is usually booked out. Even as Namjoon of BTS, he couldn’t book it up until now. So no, he wasn’t just about to throw it all out for his ex-girlfriend.  

“Well there you go! The key and lock work just fine and I do have CCTV outside of the bedroom, so you will be safe and sound! And there are security guards guarding this neighbourhood 24/7. If you just shout, they’ll come right for you! But I doubt you’ll need them, since this good looking young man doesn’t seem to be the type to hurt others!” the host said, smiling at Namjoon and you.

You couldn’t help the mocking laugh that came out of your mouth. This lady didn’t know how the good looking young man in front of her has put you in so much misery. 

“Well then that settles it. How long will you be staying here?” Namjoon said to you. It was the first time he was addressing you, the elephant in his room.

“I booked for seven days,” you replied. You didn’t bother asking him the same question, because you heard the lady say something about having to share the same kitchen for the next seven days.

You assumed there was one thing Namjoon still excelled at: hearing only the parts of a story that suited him.

It reminded you of the final month before your breakup, when he accused you of being too close to a co-worker. What he never understood was that your co-worker had come out to you and was going through a very difficult time. It was not your secret to share especially when your friend had specifically asked you not to tell anyone. Being gay in Korea was not easy, and your friend trusted you with something deeply personal that you were not about to share with any soul.

Back then, you tried to explain. You asked Namjoon to listen to your side of the story, you asked him to trust you, but he did not want to hear or trust you, he never did.

It’s really true that men never change.

“Seven days it is,” Namjoon nodded.

“Enjoy your stay,” the host said, waving at the two of you as she left the hanok.

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The hanok has two bedrooms which are separated by a wall so thin you could hear Namjoon breathing on the other side of it.

You forgot how every hanok has this really thin wall so every king and queen whose bedrooms were separate could still talk to each other. You used to think it was romantic, but now, having Namjoon at the other side of the wall just feels more like punishment.

You dropped your bag on the floor of the room because you didn’t even have the energy to unpack. You sat at the edge of the mattress and you could hear Namjoon doing the exact same thing. You could hear the thud of his duffel bag and the creaking of the bed as he sat down. 

You have to spend the next seven days with your ex-boyfriend. It would be fine if it was any of your other ex-boyfriend. But not this one, not Namjoon. 

It’s just seven days, what could go wrong really? You can survive seven days of anything. 

You’ve survived worse, you technically have survived him and that counts for something. 

You never planned this trip around meeting him. You didn’t choose Andong to torture yourself. You chose it because you saw this hanok featured in a magazine, and your coworker mentioned about her trip here once and how peaceful and lovely her trip had been. So you listened to the reviews you have seen online and from your own friend. You didn’t think in a million years that the dates you picked were the exact same one Namjoon had chosen for his own separate getaway. 

You expected some quiet. 

And you did not, under any circumstance, expect Namjoon. 

And yet here he was, on the other side of a wall thin enough you could hear each and every movement he makes. It was as if the universe had a sense of humor you will never once find funny.

You thought about calling the host back out, asking if there was truly nothing else like a motel, a shared room for backpackers, or even a bench in some park that is safe at night. But the host already left to wherever she had to go, and it was nearly dark, and some stubborn, tired part of you decided you would rather sit in silence next to a man who used to love you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. 

Well, that was before he eventually found your presence hard to be around.

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Nothing much happened on the first day. 

Thankfully, you woke up first before him and could occupy the front yard before he could. And Namjoon, to his credit, understood that you being there meant he would be spending most of his time sitting in the backyard. So neither of you saw much of each other.

And when you did happen to see each other. It was during dinner, and even then, you barely really spoke to each other. 

One of the complimentary amenities they give when you stay in the hanok is free dinner because no restaurant around here is open at night. The staff or host, you couldn’t tell since you were too busy resting and reading on a picnic mat in the front yard, left a pot of corn soup, bread, and different types of sides. They also left a note that said: ‘help yourselves, we will pick up the food in 30 minutes so please eat before then and do not eat in the bedroom for cleanliness.’ 

You found Namjoon already in the kitchen with his sleeves pushed up, ladling soup into his bowl.

"Leave some for me," you said.

Namjoon didn't look up as he said, "Didn't know you had a voice."

You tilted your head at him, “Were you waiting for me to talk to you? That’s new.”

"You wish," Namjoon snorted, setting the bowl down on the counter, hard enough that some of it sloshed over the rim, "I was only saying that because you are usually so loud."

You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. You filled the bowl without a word and sat down at the opposite end of the table, putting as much space between you as possible.

Towards the end of your relationship, Namjoon never waited for you. He could go days without calling, texting, or meeting-up, and whenever you brought it up, he always had the same answer; he was busy with everything except you. At first, you tried to understand him. You told yourself he was under pressure and that loving someone meant being patient when life got difficult, especially when his life as an idol is so different from life of most people. So you waited for the calls he promised to make after work, for replies that arrived hours later, sometimes the next day. And you waited for him to notice that you stopped telling him about your day because there was never a good time to say anything.

Eventually, you stopped waiting altogether. So you did the same to him. You gave him a taste of his own medicine; the distance, unanswered messages, the quiet indifference he once made you endure. 

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"You’re eating like it's a race," you said, watching him finish half the bowl in what felt like four bites.

"I have things to do," he said.

"Of course, the always busy man. "

"Last time I checked.." Namjoon said, stopping before finally looking up at you just to say, "That used to be your excuse too. "

You didn't have an answer for that one, so you ate your soup in silence and let the silence do what it does best. Because Namjoon was right. You did to him what he did to you, but you did not regret it. He needed that wake-up call, although it didn’t change anything in your relationship. 

Namjoon finished first, and rinsed his bowl at the sink with his back to you. You didn’t mean to watch him but the view from where you were sitting was to the kitchen. You couldn’t help but see what was happening there. You remembered this view from three years ago, when the two of you were still together.

You shook your head immediately as the thought of your past relationship crept up your mind.

Remember, your life was a living nightmare with him. 

You somehow just noticed that his hair was shorter, and without meaning to, your thoughts slipped out of your lips, "You cut your hair," you said. 

You regretted it the moment you said it. You hoped he didn’t hear it, but of course he did.

"Two months ago," Namjoon said, still rinsing his dishes, "you're behind."

"I wasn't exactly keeping up," you snorted.

"Could've fooled me, aren’t we in this situation because you knew I’d be here?” Namjoon said.

“Did you develop narcissistic personality disorder after being in the spotlight for too long? I have a life I love that does not involve you at all. I couldn’t care less whether you keep your hair short or long,” you said angrily. 

Namjoon would be lying if he claimed to not winch when he heard what you said. But he shrugged it off, you are someone he could care less about. “You used to like it long," Namjoon said quietly, just like you, he didn’t mean to say it out loud. 

"Well, apparently I liked a lot of things that didn't stick around," you said, and you felt a sense of regret the second it left your mouth.

Namjoon turned the tap off, set the bowl in the rack as he said, "Goodnight.”

Then he left the kitchen without looking at you.

You sat with your half-empty bowl a while longer, listening to his footsteps go down the hallway, the sound of his door sliding open, and silence was all it followed.

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That same night, through the wall, you heard him on the phone to Jimin. 

“Hey Jimin. Yeah, the mixup by the host is crazy, I didn’t expect to be stuck in this hanok with her.” 

There was a pause, probably Jimin telling Namjoon to find some other place. 

“I tried, even my manager tried too. It’s just fully booked everywhere.. No, no, you don’t need to come. I’m fine. I just need the week to rest and write, it’s still really nice out here in Andong. It’s peaceful, which is something I really need. Yeah. I know. We thankfully don’t really interact much. It should just be during dinner and that’s because the place only has a 30-minute dining timeslot since they have to pick up the leftover food. Yeah, it sucks, but the place is really nice.”

Then Namjoon went silent for a few minutes and you thought his phone call with Jimin was over but then you heard him say, “Jimin, it’s not because of her that I’m staying here. As much as I dislike that woman, I have been waiting for too long to stay in this hanok and the scenery and ambience is something I do not want to give up. So don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Okay, thank you. Good night to you too, bye.”

That woman?!

Is that what he just referred to you as? Just some woman? You snorted at how ridiculous it was. Did Namjoon forget the two of you spent three whole years together? 

What a fucking prick.

You thought about the last time you heard him talk like that, and how it used to be you he was talking to on the other end of the phone. But one of your last conversations with him on the phone wasn’t really something as warm as his conversation with Jimin.

“I know, babe. I know I said I'd be there. I'll make it up to you, ____”

Namjoon was always so good at saying he’ll make it up to you when he never did. 

Kim Namjoon is a prick and all of his fans would find him disappointing once they knew that he is just a man. 

You rolled onto your side now facing the wall, and let yourself feel the hatred towards your ex before finally falling asleep. 

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The second day, you woke up to the sound of Namjoon doing pull-ups on the old wooden beam of the veranda, which was, you thought, an incredibly on-brand way for Namjoon to process anything uncomfortable. 

You used to find that endearing, now you just found it loud and annoying. Especially since it is still way too early and you were still tired.

You laid in bed a while longer than you needed to, listening to the creak of the beam, Namjoon’s controlled exhale on every pull, the small grunts he lets out on each pull that he probably didn't know he makes. You used to find his grunts hot and it used to turn you on.

Now you were just irritated. 

You got up before the sounds he make could turn your irritation into anything more complicated.

You walked to the kitchen through the front yard, avoiding the side of the house Namjoon was in, and made your coffee black. You sat at the dining table, facing the backyard which was close enough to see Namjoon through the paper screen yet far enough that he wouldn’t have noticed you were there.

Namjoon eventually finished his workout routine and came into the kitchen. His breathing was shallow and fast. His shirt had gone see-through, sticking to his well-built figure from the sweat. His arms looked fuller after the workout, muscles still tense beneath his skin as he reached for a glass filled with water. He stood by the sink with his back to you as he drank. The pull-ups left his biceps, shoulders, and his overall figure look way more shredded, and his veins were faintly visible along his forearms. 

It was a view that once would have driven you insane.

You immediately looked away before your thoughts spiral into even more nonsense.

“You’re up early,” Namjoon said, still not turning around to look at you.

“You are very loud,” you answered, “it’s hard to stay asleep when a man is having a breakdown on a pull-up bar.”

“You could’ve said something,” Namjoon replied.

You took a sip of your coffee, “Would you have listened to me?”

“I’m listening now,” Namjoon said, finally turning around to look at you.

You looked at him over the rim of your mug, “That’s a little late, don’t you think?”

"That's rich," he said quietly, "coming from the person who canceled on me six times in one month because work got busy."

"You were on tour for eight weeks straight, Namjoon. Do you really want to talk about who canceled on who?"

"I was working," Namjoon said, defending himself.

"So was I," you said, scrunching your face in disbelief.

"Not the same kind of work. Your job was-" 

"Don't," you said, standing up so fast your chair scraped out loud against the floor, "don't you dare tell me my job mattered less or whatever the fuck you said to me then. I’m so sick of hearing you say that shit to me."

Namjoon didn't say anything. He just looked defeated, and mostly because he didn’t know what to say to you. He never meant to make you feel like your job mattered less and he never remembered saying such a thing, but Namjoon understood why you would remember it that way.

Your hands were shaking around the mug, so you set it down before you dropped it and you turned away before he could see your face properly. You did not look back at him as you walked down the hallway and shut your bedroom door behind you harder than necessary, but still not hard enough to feel satisfying.

Through the wall, you could hear him sitting down on the dining chair.

And neither of you said sorry, neither of you ever did.

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By the afternoon, you went out to the backyard, where Namjoon was already sitting on the raised wooden veranda of the house. He barely looked up when you spread a picnic mat beneath the tree. You were there to read, while Namjoon was on his laptop with one earphone in his ear. 

"Isn’t this a holiday?" you asked, not looking up from the page of the book you were reading.

"I have responsibilities," Namjoon answered.

“You know you’re allowed to exist without making everything productive,” you didn’t have any spiteful intent behind what you said, you genuinely wanted him to take rest too.

His fingers stopped typing whatever he was typing on his laptop, “And you need to stop looking for something to comment about,” he replied bitterly, "you used to just let things be things."

"I used to let a lot of things slide," you sneered, "look how that turned out."

Namjoon exhaled through his nose, his thumb dragging across the edge of the keyboard as if he was trying to find something to hold on to, “You don’t have to keep dragging what happened between us into everything you say.”

“I made one comment,” you snorted and sighed as you closed your book, “and I actually was trying to be nice.”

“Well, I guess you don’t really know how to be nice to me anymore,” Namjoon said, finally looking up at you.

You stared back at him, unwilling to let him have the last word, “Maybe because every time I tried, you found a reason to make it sound like an attack.”

Namjoon said nothing to that.

After a while, he put his earphones back in and turned his attention to the laptop again, and the sound of his typing continued, but quieter this time.

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The third day, avoiding each other was something intuitive for the both of you. You took your coffee at seven, Namjoon didn't come out of his room until eight. You read on the veranda facing the front yard in the morning, while Namjoon occupied the veranda to the backyard.  

The two of you should have felt relieved, but somehow, deep down, you were both still feeling restless.

By late afternoon, you were about to cook some ramen when you accidentally went into the kitchen when he was already there. Namjoon was making eggs, the way he always had, too much heat and with not enough patience for someone who always seemed to preach about being mindful.

"You're going to burn those," you said, before you could stop yourself from commenting on what he was doing. You really didn’t want to start another bitter conversation ending with ugly remarks from you or Namjoon. 

"I know how to make eggs," Namjoon replied.

"Do you know? I remember you used to struggle a lot when making eggs, you once set off a smoke alarm trying to make eggs," you let out a small laugh remembering the event that happened in the past.

The corner of Namjoon’s mouth twitched and he eventually gave in and smiled, "That was one time."

"It was still memorable to this day," you said.

"We had a good run didn’t we?" he muttered, flipping the eggs.

"Oh, be careful, Joonie," you said, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed, "you're one comment away from being nice to me."

"God forbid," he chuckled.

"God forbid," you agreed.

For a second, one single, traitorous second, it almost felt like the fun and loving relationship you two had before it all went down. Like the version of the two of you that used to burn eggs together on purpose because neither of you cared about the egg, because doing the activity together was always the whole point.

You went back to the dining table, waiting for him to finish cooking his lunch before taking your turn. Then Namjoon plated the eggs, and nodded at you as he left the kitchen without another word.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The host left dinner on the table before the two of you even noticed her come in. Tonight’s dinner menu was grilled mackerel, side dishes in small mismatched plates, and a pot of rice still steaming under a cloth. Tonight, the two of you sat down to eat at the same time.

"She made too much again," Namjoon said, nodding at the food on the table as he sat across from you.

“She thinks we’re about to get together,” you replied. It was not exactly a lie because the day before, when you had gone alone to the nearby shop, the owner asked why you didn’t bring your soon-to-be boyfriend with you. When you asked what she meant, she looked at you as though the answer were obvious. 

Apparently, your host had told everyone in the village you were staying there with your soon-to-be boyfriend.

“At this point,” you added, “the whole village probably thinks so too.”

"Let them think what they want," Namjoon flatly replied.

“Easy for you to say,” you said, before adding, “you’re not the one who has to keep correcting people since you’re not exactly going to be walking around the village, are you? Celebrity status and all.”

"I didn't realize being mistaken for my girlfriend was such a hardship," Namjoon said looking at you.

"It is," you said, accidentally filling your bowl with more force than it required, "it's just inaccurate and I don't love inaccurate things being said about me."

"You didn’t use to mind what others were saying about you," Namjoon said quietly. 

"I used to do and put up with a lot of things," you said, setting the ladle down hard enough to rattle the pot of rice, "doesn't mean I have to keep being that person just because you got comfortable with her."

Namjoon looked up at you, something changed in his face. You could tell Namjoon was furious, “You are being ridiculous. I never said I wanted you to stop being yourself.”

"You didn’t have to say it,” you answered, “you made it clear in every other way.”

"That's not fair,” Namjoon said as he set his chopsticks down, hard enough for it to make a loud noise, "What do you want me to say, exactly? Nothing I said could have fixed anything back then. I don't see why it would now."

"I don't want you to say anything," you snapped, “I want you to stop acting like you were the only one who got wronged here, the only one who got hurt. You canceled on me too, repeatedly. But somehow, in your head and in your version of the story, you're still the only victim."

"I'm not the victim of anything. I'm just tired of being the only one who remembers trying."

"You never even tried, Namjoon," you said with a blank stare. 

He picked his chopsticks back up but he didn’t eat anything. He only held them with so much force that his knuckles went pale around wooden chopsticks.  

"You actually really think that? That I never tried? I wasn’t the one getting too close to a coworker after I already told you it made me uncomfortable," he said, visibly pissed off. 

“Right, because I was the only one who ever made you uncomfortable,” you snapped, “as if you didn’t do the exact same thing with that fucking girl from Twice!”

Namjoon’s expression changed and he was about to speak but you cut him off first before he could get any word out.

“And for the record, my co-worker was suicidal. He was in and out of hospital because he was a closeted gay man who had no one else to talk to, no one else to turn to. I couldn’t tell you because it was his secret to keep and was not mine to tell. I am loyal to my friends the way I was loyal to you.”

You watched the colour drain from Namjoon’s face.

Namjoon never knew any of that.

He never knew that your co-worker had come out to you, or that the constant messages were not some secret relationship unfolding behind his back. He never knew the man had been scared and alone, trusting you with something that was not yours to share. 

All Namjoon had known was that he was texting you every day. That he had called when you were with Namjoon and you always picked up. On his last night before leaving for a world tour, you answered someone else’s call instead of staying with him. Namjoon thought you were already tired and bored of waiting for him and so you went looking for someone who was easier to be around, someone who did not keep leaving you.

And Sana, nothing had happened with Sana. Namjoon and her had gone to a bar behind your back, and that was it. But he did that because he was angry at you. Because some part of him wanted to prove that he could do the same thing to you. Because Namjoon wanted you to feel even a fraction of what he felt when your co-worker’s name kept appearing on your phone.

God, Namjoon really fucked it up. 

You asked him multiple times to trust you, he remembered that now. Namjoon remembered how frustrated you sounded, how many times you tried to explain before he stopped listening. Still, he wasn’t completely irrational, was he?

He was hurt, Namjoon was insecure. He was about to leave for two months, and you seemed farther away than ever.

But being hurt did not make Namjoon right.

If anything, refusing to hear you out then had turned his fear into something much uglier.

You didn't touch the rest of your food. Just sat there, angry at the situation the world has given you on your holiday off work. Namjoon wasn’t touching his food either, and both of you were too stubborn to be the one who leaves the table first.

But you got up anyway, because you couldn’t stand the sight of him any longer. So you went to your room without another word shared between you.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

If you thought the passive-aggressiveness had peaked during last night’s dinner, day four proved you wrong.

It started with nothing, or something small enough to be nothing. 

You left your shoes unorganised by the door, a habit you were never able to break since you were a kid. It used to make Namjoon laugh, but this morning, he tripped over them on his way out to the front yard.

“Could you not leave your shit everywhere?” he snapped as you walked past the door and towards the kitchen.

“They’re shoes, Namjoon, not a crime scene,” you said, matching your tone to the way he was talking to you.

“It’s the same thing it always was,” he shot back at you, “you take up space and expect everyone else to adjust around you.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” you said, confronting Namjoon.

Were you in the wrong? Yes, but It was one fucking pair of shoes and you did not deserve this much anger over one pair of shoes.

“Oh, you want to talk about adjusting?” you pointed at him, “I adjusted my entire life around your schedule for our whole relationship. I adjusted dinners, weekends, holidays, and my friends' weddings. I even missed a fucking job interview because you only had twelve hours before you had to leave again.”

“I adjusted too,” Namjoon barked.

“You didn’t adjust anything,” you rolled your eyes at him, “you kept doing exactly what you wanted. You chose your career every single time, then you thought feeling guilty about it afterwards made it count as compromise.”

“And don’t act like I forgot about Sana,” you continued, “you went to a bar with her behind my back. Just the two of you then I had to watch people gossip about the two of you everywhere while we were still in a relationship, Namjoon. And you do not understand how hard it was trying to survive a breakup with a fucking celebrity whose face is every fucking where.”

Your throat tightened, and out of anger you said, “I wish we never fucking met.”

“That’s not fair,” Namjoon said, the tone of his voice dropping which was somehow worse than him yelling, “I know I went with Sana out of spite and I was in the wrong, I admit that. But I didn’t know what was happening between you and that fucking co-worker. How was I supposed to know there was nothing going on? Can you really blame me for feeling insecure?”

“It wasn’t my place to tell you, Namjoon. All you had to do was trust me, the woman you claimed to love.”

You laughed bitterly before continuing, “You want to talk about fairness? Well, it wasn’t fair that I had to watch you choose work over me every single time.”

“You could have told me what you wanted from me,” Namjoon said.

“I shouldn’t have had to tell you,” your voice humiliatingly cracked, “that was the whole fucking point, Namjoon. If I had to ask you to try, then it stopped meaning anything.”

Namjoon didn't answer you again as he just looked at you before finally walking out into the garden, leaving the door open behind him like he couldn't be bothered to close it gently either.

You stood there a long time, staring at your own shoes, hating both of them a little for starting this fight. Hating yourself, really.

You thought about the night your relationship had actually ended. It wasn’t dramatic, which was always the part nobody believed when you talked about it later on. There was no shouting or any insults involved. There were only two exhausted people sitting on opposite ends of a couch, each waiting for the other to say the thing first, until you finally did.

You remembered saying; “I don't think this is working out.”

And Namjoon didn’t argue, even when some small part of you wished he did. But he didn’t fight for it at all. He just nodded, like you did something he already privately decided too, and all he said was, “Yeah. I think you're right.”

You remembered cursing him in your head when you realised he wasn’t going to fight for you. Because you wanted, more than anything, for him to be the one who tried and fought for the relationship first for once. And when he didn't, some old and stubborn part of you decided that meant he never would have, not even if you stayed.

Namjoon probably remembered it differently. He probably remembered the months before that, all the times he asked you to make time and all you replied was: “soon”. You did that out of spite, you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. And maybe in his version, he was the one who kept reaching out, and you were the one who kept pulling away first. When in reality, you only gave him the same energy he was giving you. 

It was funny how the two of you shared three years together, yet left with a different story, and both of you were convinced yours is the true one.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

That night, Namjoon could hear you were still awake through the wall, he could hear the repetitive sounds of short videos playing from your phone bleeding through the thin wood wall between your rooms. He knew you were doomscrolling, you’ve always done it when your mind was too loud for you to fall asleep.

For years, Namjoon told himself that whatever existed between you and him ended because it was supposed to, that too much had happened; too many things were badly said and too many moments were missed. But seeing you again after years, made something painfully clear.

Namjoon has never stopped loving you, and he has always loved you deeply.

He could still read you the way he did back then, even after you’ve spent years apart. And he remembered all of your habits and worse, some part of him still wanted to be the only person who noticed these things about you.

He imagined knocking on your door softly, asking if you were okay, and you letting him in and telling him to sit beside you. The way he imagined it to go almost made Namjoon get up to join you. He imagined taking your phone from your hand and hearing you laugh at something stupid he says, the way you used to when the world had not yet become so difficult between you.

But wanting you again felt cruel. 

How selfish would it be for Namjoon to suddenly realise how deeply he loved you only after losing the right to do anything about it?

So that night, Namjoon stayed where he was supposed to.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next morning felt different somehow, though neither of you could have pointed out exactly why it felt that way.

You woke to the smell of coffee, so you headed down to the kitchen and found a cup of coffee just sitting there on the kitchen counter with a note next to it that said: I made too much coffee, feel free to drink this one.

You sighed as you wrapped your hand around the warm cup of coffee. 

This had always been Namjoon’s version of an apology. He was never good at walking up to you and saying the words ‘I’m sorry’ outright. Instead, he would cook you something, bring home your favourite snack, or leave a coffee waiting for you as though food could say what he could not.

You found him on the veranda, staring out at the garden. He looked like he barely slept, and you probably looked no better. You sat next to him, just a short distance away, far enough not to pretend things were fine but close enough that it did not feel like you were strangers.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

"I called my sister this morning," you eventually said, breaking the silence, “she asked how the trip was going."

"Ah, what did you tell her?" Namjoon said, lifting his cup of coffee to his mouth.

"That it was complicated," you said, looking down at the coffee in your hands, "she laughed at me and said that's basically been the answer to every question about you since… you know."

"Fair," he replied quietly, "what did you use to tell people? About us, I mean, after we broke up?"

"That it just didn't work out," you said as you shrugged your shoulders, "nobody needs to hear the long version. Plus a toxic relationship doesn't really make a good story."

"I see. Well, me either," he admitted, "I always ended up saying we just had different visions.”

You turned to look at him, “Different visions?”

“It sounded better than the truth,” Namjoon said with his gaze fixed on the garden in front of him.

“And what was the truth?” you asked curiously and without malice.

You expected defensiveness, an excuse, or something about work, expectations, and pressure of being Kim Namjoon. You expected anything that would make it easier for him to avoid admitting what he had done. 

But Namjoon’s fingers tightened slightly around his cup before he finally said, “The truth was that I kept asking you to make room for my life when I barely made any room left for you in it.”

You went silent for a while, and couldn't really believe what you were hearing. “You could have said that back then,” you said, “you could have told me how you felt, you could have listened to me when I asked you to trust me, you could have tried more instead of making me feel like I was asking for too much.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know it then,” Namjoon replied quietly.

His voice was quiet enough that you almost missed it, so you just nodded while staring at the cup in your hands, “You didn’t make too much coffee, did you?” you asked.

He let out a small and humourless laugh, you just always know what he was thinking about, “No, I made exactly two cups.”

“Is this supposed to be your apology?” you asked, looking at him. 

“No,” he replied, turning his head to look at you, “it’s supposed to be me trying to figure out how to start one.”

“Well, you should start with the words itself,” you answered, smiling at him.

Namjoon looked back out at the garden, his shoulders dropping slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long pause, “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to earn space in my life. I’m also sorry for not trusting you enough and acting out of spite to hurt you.”

You didn’t say anything back at him, you just nodded and gave him a small smile.

The rest of the afternoon was neither warm nor cold. You both kept to yourselves, doing what you had come here to do in the first place. Namjoon stayed on the veranda with his laptop, while you wandered between the garden and your room with your book. Whenever your paths crossed, neither of you ignored the other completely; a glance, a small nod, or a quiet “sorry” when one of you had to pass.

And the air now felt less hostile than before.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

By evening, something in the air between the two of you had changed enough that when he set two glasses and a bottle of soju on the dining table, you didn't immediately think it was a bad idea. 

You almost skipped dinner that night and told yourself you would just eat something small in your room to avoid the whole exhausting event of sitting across from a man who apparently still has the ability to unravel you in under ten words.

But Namjoon was in the kitchen when you came out to get water, and saw him setting a bottle of soju and two glasses on the dining table.

"I'm not trying to start anything," Namjoon said, before you could even say a word, "I just.. I don't want to spend two more days pretending you're not here or pretending as if there is nothing for us to talk about."

You hesitated at first because it could go bad really quickly, but you knew even if it does, all you would have to do is stand up and walk away, "One drink," you finally said, “and that's it."

"Yes, one drink," Namjoon agreed.

You sat down across from him, as Namjoon poured the soju on the glass. When he filled yours up, you drank it way too fast, the way you always do when you are bracing for a conversation you didn't actually want to have.

"So," Namjoon said, refilling your glass without you needing to ask, "are we going to talk about it, or are we just going to keep circling it for two more days?"

"Talk about what exactly?" you answered, though you knew exactly what he meant.

"What happened to us,” Namjoon said, in a very non-chalant way that almost pissed you off.

You sighed as you looked out at the persimmon tree outside, "Fine, then you can talk first."

Namjoon went quiet for a moment, turning his glass in his hands, "I used to think you left because you stopped loving me," he said finally.

"I didn't stop loving you," the words came out before you could stop them, "that was never it. I just got tired of being the only one who kept trying to fix things. I was so tired, Joon."

"I was trying too," he quietly said.

"Were you? I don’t know. I mean yes, you always felt bad about it afterwards, you feel bad about missing things we’ve planned and tried to make it up in your own ways. But you know, your guilt was still not the same as your presence."

He flinched, just slightly, "That's harsh. You did the same too the last few months, you were around yet somehow never around.”

"Well, I was petty then, I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine,” you replied.

He nodded slowly, looking down at the table, "Yeah I kinda knew that now. I thought it was not like you to act that way; to always have some excuse. It felt like every time I needed you to just be there, you had somewhere else to be."

"Well, I also had a life, Joon. I wasn't going to put it on hold indefinitely waiting for you to have room for me in yours," you said, giving him a small smile.

"I know," he said it so quietly you almost missed it, "I know that now."

"What has changed? How do you realise it now but not then?" you asked curiously. 

He thought about the question longer than you expected to.

"Time, I guess, and distance too. Sometimes you just start seeing things clearer once you're not standing so close to the person you hurt anymore," he said as he turned his glass slowly on the table, watching the liquid move around, "I spent a long time telling myself the story where I was the one who tried harder, it was just easier that way. Easier to be the guy who got left than the guy who let something special slip out of his life because he was too busy chasing something else. But now, I don't think you were as absent as I made you out to be in my head and I don't think I was as present and innocent as I told myself I was, either."

You thought about what he said for a moment, surprised by how open Namjoon was to you. This was the Namjoon you knew the first two years of the relationship, the only difference is that he did seem a lot more mature now. 

"I’m sorry about the co-worker thing. I really didn’t have the right to tell you what he was going through. I was the only person in his life who knew. He is now married to his husband and has moved out of the country. He’s happier and we’re best of friends now. I don’t think he would have made it out alive if I wasn’t there for him. I just couldn’t tell you then.." you said. 

“Yeah.. I should have trusted you more,” Namjoon said.

“And I should have convinced you harder,” you admitted.

“I’m sorry about the Sana thing, I never wanted to be that guy but I did it out of anger and spite.. I’m really embarrassed of myself to this day that it ever happened.”

“Yeah, I figured you did it just to rile me up. You were never the type to do something like that,” you said, before taking another sip of the glass of alcohol in your hands, "Do you regret it?" you asked, "us breaking up, I mean."

Namjoon didn’t have to think about the answer because he has thought about it ever since the two of you were broken up, "No," he said, before adding, "I don't think I do. I think we would've just kept hurting each other even more. I understand why it happened. I get it now, in a way I didn't back then."

"Yeah," you replied, agreeing with him, "me too."

Namjoon poured another round of drinks and the two of you drank slower this time as the conversation drifted somewhere different. The old memories neither of you meant to bring up, the trip you two had to LA, Tokyo, and Singapore, the time the two of got lost trying to find a bookstore that turned out to be permanently closed, the time where you tried teaching him how to drive only for him to hit someone’s bins, the stories of your families and friends that the two of you have missed, the new music you both listen to, and the ugly ceramic bowl with the crack near the rim that you still refused to throw away.

"You still have that bowl?" he asked, surprised.

"It's a favorite bowl of mine, do you think I would just throw it away?" you said with a smile on your face.

"It's an ugly bowl, and you know how I appreciate artists more than anyone you know, but that bowl is just something else that I cannot even defend," Namjoon said.

"It's an ugly bowl I like," you said, defending yourself and the artist.

The two of you laughed, and the conversation drifted from the ugly bowl to the artists and writers you had both been following lately. Namjoon told you about an exhibition he wanted to see but never found the time for, while you complained about a novelist whose latest book disappointed you after years of being your favourite. For a while, it was easy. 

"Can I ask you something?" he said after the two of you just finished debating whether J.K. Rowling would ever write anything that could surpass Harry Potter. "Did you see anyone else? After we broke up?"

“I went out with a few but only dated one guy for about eight months. He was.. " you paused, searching for the right word to describe your other ex, "easy. As in everything was just so easy with him."

“That sounds nice,” Namjoon said, though the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed the jealousy he was trying to hide.

"It was boring," you admitted, surprising yourself with how honest you were to him, "I hated how easy it was. I kept waiting for it to feel like something and it never did. I think I broke up with him because I just missed having something to fight for."

"I think about that sometimes," he said, "whether we would've been better off if it had been easy between us. But then maybe having it easy is just not what we were built for."

"Maybe not," you said, before adding, "maybe we were always going to be difficult. I just wish we had gone through the difficult times together instead of being difficult at each other."

"Yeah," he said quietly, agreeing with you, “me too."

By the fourth glass, or maybe the fifth, you really have lost count, the bitterness in the air shifted into something closer to the version of the two of you that used to sit and talk all night long.

"I missed this," he said, and then, drunk Namjoon, without him probably realising it, confessed, "I have missed you ever since."

You went very still in your seat. Namjoon didn't seem to notice what he just said. His eyes were already heavy, glass tipping slightly in his hand, and the soju and the exhaustion of four bitter days have finally caught up to him all at once.

"Joon," you said softly and when you looked over at him, you found him slumped slightly against his chair with his eyes closed. 

You sat there for a while, still with a glass in hand, looking at him in the dim light of the kitchen, "Me too," you whispered to no one, to Namjoon who passed out in front of you, "Me too, Joon."

You got a blanket from his room and draped it over him where he was sitting and sleeping, careful not to wake him up.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Namjoon woke up the next day in the kitchen with a headache and a blanket he didn't remember getting, and the dread of a man who knew he said something the night before but couldn’t fully remember what. Namjoon got off the chair, folded the blanket, and went looking for you.

You weren’t in the kitchen, and the door to your room was open with your bed already made. He panicked at first, wondering if you had left. But he continued searching for you and he finally found you in the backyard under the persimmon tree, sitting on a stool, with a book open in your lap. 

Namjoon walked over to you with his hands in his pockets, "Good choice of book," he said, nodding at the book.

You looked up at him and gave him a small smile before saying, "Thank you."

Namjoon chuckled and let the silence sit for a second before he said, "I'll be checking out early at 4 AM tomorrow."

"I’ll be checking out tomorrow as well," you said looking at him.

"Alright," he nodded, “it's been nice seeing you, ____."

You laughed at him before saying, "Crazy how one night could change the first four days huh? But yes, it’s been nice seeing you too, Joonie.”

Namjoon reached his hand out before he could think better of it and ruffled your hair, the way he used to and you let him.

Then Namjoon walked back towards the hanok, and you watched him go until the sliding door clicked shut behind him.

You just sat there a while longer under the tree, some fruit were starting to drop around you, one by one, and you could hear the soft thuds against the ground. 

You weren’t sad, because you knew the past few days had only been an accidental closure for the two of you.

And it was never meant to be anything more than that.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Three Months Later - Seoul International Airport, 11:47 AM

South Korea was not small enough for this to not be fate. 

A country with millions of people, and somehow it kept finding ways to place the one person you had tried hardest to forget directly in front of you. 

You had stopped thinking about Andong. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself. Six bitter days and one drunken confession had not undone everything that happened between the two of you. But they had changed something; how you see Namjoon, and how he sees you.

You saw him before he noticed you were there.

Namjoon was standing by the magazine rack, with sunglasses pushed up into his hair, flipping through something he clearly wasn't reading. He looked good and you hated that you noticed. 

Just as you considered turning away, Namjoon looked up from the magazine, and your eyes met. The moment Namjoon saw you, everything in him went still as if time had stopped.

After that night where he drank soju with you, he told himself that Andong had given both of you what you needed: an ending that did not involve slammed doors, unread messages, or either of you pretending not to care. The stay in Andong gave the two of you closure and that was what it had been. 

Namjoon left at four in the morning exactly as he said he would. What you didn’t know was that he had stood outside your door for longer than he cared to admit, his hand hovering near the wooden door, before deciding against knocking. You both already said what needed to be said and anything more than that would have been selfish of him.

So Namjoon left.

But, you didn’t know that Namjoon had convinced himself that if it was meant to be, if the universe really wanted the two of you to try again, then Namjoon will be seeing you again. 

And now you were there.

Standing right in front of him with your handbag over one shoulder and your other hand on the handle of your carry-on luggage, looking just as startled as he felt.

For one second, Namjoon wondered whether he had imagined you. Whether the lack of sleep, the long flights, and the stupid hope he carried with him since Andong had finally caught up with him.

Then you shifted on your feet, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag the way they always did when you were nervous and did not know what to say, only then Namjoon realised you were real. 

Namjoon put the magazine back on the rack, though he had no idea which rack it belonged to. The airport was still moving around the two of you, you could hear the suitcases rolling over the floor, the announcements over the speakers, and people rushing into their gates, but it all sounded far away to the both of you.

Namjoon spent three months telling himself that, if he ever saw you again, he would not waste it. 

So he stepped away from the magazine rack and walked closer to where you were standing.

“Hi,” Namjoon greeted, his dimples appearing as he smiled fondly at you.

You gave him a small smile back before answering, “Hi.”

"You look good," he said.

"So do you," you answered, letting out a small laugh.

“Are you leaving somewhere?” Namjoon asked, still smiling at you.

“Yeah, I have a flight in..” you checked your phone to see the time before saying, “in about an hour.”

Namjoon nodded, his eyes dropping briefly to the carry-on luggage you had with you before staring back into your eyes, “Then I guess I caught you at the right time,” he said.

You frowned slightly at him, not understanding what he meant, “The right time for what exactly?”

“For coffee,” he said, “before your flight.”

You glanced at the departure board, then back at him, “One coffee,” you said, saying yes to his invitation, “that’s all I have time for.”

The airport cafe was crowded and loud, which didn’t influence how easily the conversation flowed. You talked about the ordinary things at first; work, travel, mutual friends, the books you had both been reading. Namjoon told you about a museum exhibition he was preparing for, and you complained about a project at work that had been taking up too much of your time.

It was strange how natural it still felt. And by the time your boarding call appeared on the screen, both coffees had gone cold.

Namjoon walked with you towards your gate, neither of you mentioning how none of really wanted the conversation to end.

"Text me when you land," he said.

You looked at him, all confused before saying, "You don't have my number anymore."

"Well, I could get it."

"You could," you said, smiling as you pulled out your phone and giving him your phone number.

And then, just like that, the two of you had to part ways. You walked towards security while Namjoon walked towards his gate, glancing back to each other more than either of you would admit.

You were two people who once tried to be everything to each other, failed and even hated each other for it.

But somehow, years later, after spending an accidental few days together in Andong, you two found something worth sitting down and trying for.

The world, it seemed, was not quite done proving that sometimes the right person only made sense once you both found yourselves in the right place and right time. 

[taechwitaaah]

Jungkook Fic Recs (Pt. 1)

Loooots of fantasy in this list, what can I say we (me) all salivate over vampire Jungkook. He made us this way.

Lots of love to all the lovely fic writers 💜

✦✧BTS Fic Recs Masterpost✧✦

✷⎯⎯⎯✦✧⎯☽⎯☾⎯✧✦⎯⎯⎯✷

BLOODY CRAWLING BACK TO YOU by @acheronsociety [7.7k] secret agents au

in which… you absolutely hate your co-worker, the insufferable Jeon Jungkook. but you're badly hurt, and somehow, your feet led you to his door.

The Art of War More by @kpopfanfictrash [42.4k] Enemies to Lovers, College!AU

Jeon Jungkook had messed with you for the last time. That was what you thought when the hockey team – led by the insufferable Jungkook – kicked your dance team out again from your reserved room at the gym. In retaliation, you planned a prank of epic proportions and were caught in the act by none other than Jungkook himself. Before the rift between you could grow any deeper, you accidentally overheard something you were not meant to hear. Something which overshadowed even your heated rivalry. Faced with the choice between obvious wrong and teaming up with your worst enemy – you reluctantly chose the latter. But what will you do when feelings you once thought of as hatred become something decidedly… not?

Like I’m Famous by @softyoongiionly [11.2k] Idol! Jk, Dom! Jk, established relationship au, long distance au, smut, fluff

It’s New Years Eve and Jungkook would rather be anywhere else than at his company’s massive party. Sure, he’s a guest of honor and his team rented out the nicest hotel in Seoul, but ringing in the New Year with you on the other side of the world just feels wrong. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to celebrate without the woman he loves, but maybe- just maybe…he won’t have to…

concrete king. by @bratkook [16.7k] skaterboy!jk, fluff, smut, himbo energy

when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor theres no way you could ever say no to him

What the Portraits Keep by @jkwrites-m [7.6k] immortal!Jungkook, horror, paranormal, angst, smut

Her reflection didn’t end in the mirror.

body architect by @youthguk [2-shot, complete] gym trainer AU, smut, fake dating, angst

In which your hot personal trainer makes your body sore in ways that have nothing to do with training.

bewitched by @tranquilreign [4.1k] horror(?), smut, witch hunter au!

when famed witch hunter jeon jungkook answers a call for help in a secluded town far from civilization, he can't shake off the mayors daughter, who so desperately wants to help put the witches presence in the ground.

Daredevil by @youthguk [?] incubus! jungkook

Fame came easy once you made your deal — but the devil always collects his payment, and he takes it straight from your body

Swan Song by @wintrbears [26.5k] Vampire!Jungkook, Fantasy in the Modern World AU, Strangers to Lovers

All vampires have a special ability which they invoke to lure mortals into their clutches, whether to feast on their blood or for the purposes of their pleasure. For Jeongguk, it’s his siren voice, and he’ll use it in whatever way necessary to attract you to his side and take you as his own.

Lucifer | A huge fuck you, repost. by @scribblemetae [13.5K] Supernatural, smut

The antichrist was getting sick of it all. Sick of the lack of Sin upstairs. Sick of the 7 princes of hell doing absolutely nothing, bickering all day and sick of the sins being seen as nothing but a gimmick. It was time to show the humans exactly what his demons could do to them. Time to make them scared of the underworld once more. It was time let his boys up onto the surface to show just how sinful they can be.

Be as it must by @lo1k-diamonds [28.9k] ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

It’s hard being an omega in a world where they've all but disappeared, but you're safe as long as you stay under the radar. You might be risking it a little bit by working for the Jeon Family, an alpha ruling family, but they have no idea about you. What happens when you're found and taken to your boss, CEO Jeon Jungkook?

Double Feature by @youthguk [?] idol!jungkook x songwriter!reader

One wrong lyric was all it took for Jungkook to catch your secret — you’d never tried 69. And he wasn’t about to let you leave the hotel without a hands-on lesson.

utopic desire by @flowerwrites06 [drabble] Vampire!Jungkook x Vampire!OC

Under an elist system of Vampires, Jungkook is torn between his old values and the lowest ranked Vampire he begins to fall for.

the hush series by @suga-kookiemonster [16.9k] (feat. Taehyung) smut, friends to lovers

four seats, five bodies. “careful, sweetheart,” he breathes into the shell of your ear, hands tightening over your waist in warning. you lick your lips, pausing just long enough to ponder: what if you don’t want to be careful?

ribbons by @jamaisjoons [11k] established relationship, pwp, threesome (feat. Jimin)

"your boyfriend, jimin, arranges the best birthday present you could have ever asked for"

[tranquilreign]

OMG TYSM FOR PUTTING ME IN HERE WITH ALL THESE TALENTED AUTHORS 😩✊🏻😭😭 much love!!!

[tranquilreign]

enigma | 18+ | series | 02.

- © tranquilreign - all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

🗒 details

pairing; jungkook/reader genre: spider! kook, anti-hero! reader, superhero au! college au, smut, fluff, angst, mystery/crime au! warnings: swearing, slight violence word count: 3.6k

🖋 synopsis

enigma (n.) uh·nig·ma a person or thing that is mysterious or difficult to understand

friendly neighbourhood spider-man has a spidey friend. except she enjoys sabotaging his plans at every given moment.

when police come forward stating the increase of missing persons, spider-man seeks help from you, another spider-person, but who doesn't enjoy the hero lifestyle.

🖇links

jungkook masterlist main masterlist request | request rules prompt list prev | next

The afternoon sky darkened as Jungkook swung through the busy streets of Seoul - after retrieving his bag from the Lotte World Tower. He found it difficult to concentrate since he had encountered the Spider-Woman. He had so many questions about her. Who was she? Where did she come from? How did she get powers and abilities like his own?

Being so deep is thought, Jungkook nearly missed one of the bearings on the Gwangjin Bridge as he glided through the air back into the district.

He needed to get to Namjoon's, fast. His breathing was growing erratic, his brain not slowing down from the overwhelming encounter he had.

Jungkook couldn't wrap his head around it. If there was more than one Spider-Person, why did she wait until now to come forward? Not all the other times he was fighting crime? There were so many possibilities of who this woman could be. Jungkook would be lying if the thought of multiverses hadn't crossed his mind. But that seemed too good to be true.

Rain began to gently fall from the darkening clouds, droplets hitting against his skin, the sensation cooling. Fog now rolling in, Jungkook's vision dampened, the city light illuminating what it could in the thickening mist.

Luckily for him, he was now night in front of Namjoon's apartment, sticking against the wall next to his bedroom window. Steadying himself, he leaned over and chapped on the window, moving back and waiting patiently for his friend.

Not even ten seconds later, the window opened and Namjoon's head poked out, looking from side to side until his eyes fell upon Jungkook.

Without a word, Namjoon pulled away and stepped back, allowing his friend to clamber through the window. Namjoon inspected him, checking for any injuries he may need to clean or stitch up.

"Hmph, this may be the first time I've seen you with no injuries," Namjoon joked, crossing his arms.

Jungkook was silent, pulling the mask off over his head, breathing intensifying. Namjoon's joking demeanor faltered upon seeing his friends stunned expression. Without a word, he moved out of his bedroom, rushing to grab Jungkook something to eat and drink.

It was unusual for Jungkook so be so quiet, especially after fighting crime. He was usually bubbly and excitable, no matter how beat up he got in the process. He would always have something to say. It's why it worried Namjoon so much.

Upon returning with some snacks and water, Jungkook sat on the floor, bag discarded, arm resting against his bent knee while the other lay flat. It was a sight Namjoon wasn't used to seeing, and he couldn't help but let the worry creepy in.

"Kook?"

As if his name pulled him out of a trance, Jungkook began to ramble off. Namjoon exhaled, relieved his friend wasn't hurt internally, but also irritated at his friends lack of response when he first entered his home.

It was difficult to keep up with Jungkook, Namjoon only catching a few words here and there as his friend rambled on and on. However, he did manage to catch the words, "Spider-Person."

"Wait. Back up a bit. There's another Spider-Person?" Namjoon asked, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Jungkook agreed, rambling off once again about everything that had happened. He was speaking too fast, and Namjoon couldn't keep up.

"Jungkook!" Namjoon yelled, his raised voice suddenly grasping Jungkook's attention. "I need you to take a deep breath. Exhale and tell me, slowly."

Namjoon's words seemed to have finally gotten through to Jungkook. He paused, took a deep breath - as his friend asked him to - and felt the panic escape his body, finally relaxing.

Jungkook was unaware of just how much this had effected him. In his defense, it wasn't an everyday thing to come across another Spider-Person, let alone them being the complete opposite of him. It filled him with a feeling of unease that he couldn't quite explain.

"To put it plainly," Jungkook began, "there's someone else with my powers... my abilities."

"And how can you be sure?" Namjoon questioned.

"Well first of all, I met her at the top of the Lotte World Tower," Jungkook explained, as if saying that stated the obvious. "Second of all, she was in a suit like mine and was literally sticking to the glass."

"Okay, you've proven your point," Namjoon replied, rolling his eyes at his friends sarcasm.

"And if that wasn't enough proof for you. I could... feel her."

"What do you mean feel her?"

Jungkook barely understood it himself. He was used to the spider senses he would feel when he was fighting criminals, or protecting civilians. But the sense he felt when she was around him was different. And he couldn't explain how.

"My spider senses were... different, than usual."

"So, we're going off you feeling a little different?" Namjoon asked.

Jungkook scowled at his friend. One thing Namjoon could never quite wrap his head around, was the fact that Jungkook's sixth sense had been heightened along with his strength when he first became Spider-Man. Even with legitimate proof of Jungkook's abilities, it was always something Namjoon was skeptical of.

"Joon, this is different. And I want to know who she is."

"You realise there are nearly ten million people in Seoul alone right? And they may not actually be from Seoul. What if they are from the country side? And they are here on holiday. Hell they could even be foreign," Namjoon countered.

"I don't think she's foreign. And I don't think she's from the country side either."

"And what makes you say that?"

Jungkook paused, smiling sheepishly at his friend. "Gut feeling?"

"Oh my god, you're hopeless."

The two of them bickered back and forward, each one stating points, and the other countering. Namjoon had to admit, however, he had never seen Jungkook so determined - and sure - of his theories. In the end, that is what made him cave.

"Okay, so you're convinced she lives in Seoul. How do you plan on meeting her again?" Namjoon sighed.

"Right now, honestly, I think it'll be best to wait her out. My guess is that she'll appear when police are involved in catching criminals. She seems to despise them, and that's what worries me," Jungkook explained.

Namjoon was confused. Trying to think of a reason that this Spider-Woman could detest the authorities so much. It wasn't uncommon for people to dislike the police for their choices, but to hate them to such an extend had him thinking.

"Maybe she was a criminal?"

"That's a good point. Which is this case, isn't good for us if she's swinging about causing trouble," Jungkook agreed, nodding his head slightly.

"I somehow don't think she'd do that."

Jungkook gave Namjoon a puzzled look. Why wouldn't she do it? She has every perfect opportunity to do so. Her identity is hidden with her suit, she can escape situations with ease and would have no problem taking down the average person. The only person who would be in her way, would be him. Namjoon sensing Jungkook's confusion let out a sigh.

"Think about it, Kook. If she wanted to cause trouble, she'd be doing it well before she allowed you to know of her. Why all of a sudden would she show herself?"

"That is a good point," Jungkook mumbled, looking away. "But there's also the possibility of her doing that so she's knows I have competition."

The bickering between the two continued. Each discussing different reasons Spider-Woman suddenly showed up. Their conversation had travelled on into the night, neither one realizing the time until their stomachs growled.

"You just wanna stay here tonight?" Namjoon asked, grunting slightly as he stood up. "I can heat up some leftovers I made yesterday."

"Nah, I should probably go home. I tend to spend one too many nights here when I've been out helping people," Jungkook explained, eyes falling upon his mask.

He stared at it, a feeling of unease returning, but this one felt dissimilar. It was the type of dread you'd feel when you suspected something wrong, and in the end it was you who ended up getting hurt.

"Kook," Namjoon began, "just because there's another Spider-Person, doesn't make you any less special, or important than you already are."

With the truth and realization of Jungkook's deepest thoughts and feelings coming out, he couldn't help but get emotional. For the longest time, Jungkook was the superhero everyone relied on. The person who brought joy to kids, and faith to adults. The feeling of replacement, or even sabotage danced across his mind more than he'd like to admit. And Namjoon had seen right through his act.

"Is this the real reason for your paranoia?"

Jungkook didn't say anything, just nodded slightly in reply. Namjoon exhaled, shuffling across the floor and hugging his friend tightly. No more words were exchanged between the two, both simply appreciating the silence of their company. Finally regaining some composure, Jungkook pulled away.

"I should get going. Thank you, Joon, I really don't know what I'd do if you weren't here," Jungkook spoke softly.

Namjoon snorted, patting his friends back lazily as they stood. One pat hit a little too hard making Jungkook wince, but smile nonetheless.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Kook. What are best friends for."

Jungkook grinned, grabbing his mask and backpack. Quickly checking inside his bag for anything that may be missing, he concluded everything was still there.

"If it's alright with you, can you keep my bag from now on if I need to go? I don't trust this Spider-Woman," Jungkook spoke honestly.

"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem," Namjoon replied, shrugging.

With one last grin, Jungkook pulled his mask over his face and climbed out of Namjoon's window with ease. Sticking to the wall, he quickly checked no one way looking before swinging back into the city.

Seoul always look so breathtaking during the night. The way the lights illuminated the darkness was something you could truly appreciate when you could see it from up high. The nights cooling air breezed against Jungkook's skin, relaxing him. He had felt so tense since he had met Spider-Woman, that finally relaxing felt weird.

Not even five minutes later, Jungkook was at his apartment, climbing in through the window he always left open in case he had to come home in his suit. He was lucky he lived on the fourth floor, otherwise someone would definitely be breaking into his home.

Mask pulled off again, he let of a sigh, relieved to be in his own space. There was nothing quite like your own home after a long day out. Especially in the city. It had only occurred to Jungkook just how tired he was when he had shuffled into his bedroom and sat down on his bed.

Sluggishly, he removed his suit stripping down into his underwear. With the suit being skin tight, it often caused Jungkook to sweat. A sigh escaped his lips as he ran his fingers across the tendinous intersections of his abs, huffing at the feeling of sweat.

Reluctantly, he stood up from his bed, and pulled himself towards the bathroom. Showering was the last thing on his mind, but he knew he'd regret it in the morning if he didn't do it now.

Turning on the shower, Jungkook stripped himself of his boxers, and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror for a moment. It always surprised him how many scars he had. From small, every day scars to life threatening ones.

He gently traced the large scar that stretched cross the middle of his chest and down diagonally to his waist. Jungkook was hospitalized for a week after the injury, worrying both his parents and Namjoon.

He of course had to lie about why he was injured so badly, claiming that he was one of the many injured during the collapse of a building. When in actuality he was trying to save as many people, and in the process had been slashed by a large piece of glass as he protected a child from harm.

The mirror had steamed up, pulling Jungkook out of his daze. Moving to step into the shower, a sigh of relief couldn't help but escape his lips as the warm water hit against his skin.

Despite being a superhero, at the end of the day, Jungkook was still human. And that meant sore muscles and aching joints. The hot water hit against those spots, having Jungkook almost melt into the heat of the shower.

Hands against the wall, he looked to the floor, watching as the water swirled around the drain. No thoughts clouded his mind, just simple peace.

Eventually, he stood up straight and washed himself, the stickiness he felt from his sweat earlier now gone. All Jungkook wanted now, was his bed. Wasting no time, he finished off his shower and stepped out, drying himself off quickly and hurrying to his bed.

Sleep came quickly, it consuming almost as soon as he climbed into bed. No dreams came to him either, the shower fully cleansing him of his worries and stress.

•─────⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅─────•

The morning sun beamed through Jungkook's partially broken blinds - mainly due to him climbing in and out of the window the second something goes wrong in the city. He groaned, the light stinging his eyes behind his eyelids.

With a sigh, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and grabbing his phone under his pillow. Hair messy and tangled from it drying as he slept, he yawned, eyes squinting as he looked at the time on his phone.

There was a pause.

"Holy shit!"

Jungkook fell out of bed, realising that his first class started in ten minutes. Standing up, he rushed into the bathroom, webbing his toothbrush, in an attempt to save time. Frantically brushing his teeth, he ran back into his bedroom, stuffing his spider suit into his bag, trying not to gag at the smell of his sweat lingering from yesterday's job. Jungkook was fast, hauling his t-shirt over his head while trying to pull a pair of boxers up over his hips.

He couldn't help but squeal as he lost balance, the sound making him pause for a minute to question himself.

"How the fuck do I even make a sound like that?!"

Now only needing his shoes, he huffed and grunted as he looked everywhere for them. They were scattered over his apartment, one found under his bed and the other laying in the hallway. He wasted no time bursting out into the hallway, hopping on one foot, trying to get his right shoe on properly, while trying to close the door.

Jungkook ran, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, skipping every second or third stair, trying to save time. The journey was swift. Jungkook dodged and evaded the busy streets of Seoul, the familiar sounds of car horns blaring falling on deaf ears.

Jungkook's heart was hammering in his ears, the beating being the only thing he could focus on as his speed increased. Phone in hand, he held it up, the screen brightening as it turned on. Eight Fifty-Five.

"Come on, come on, come on," Jungkook breathed out, rounding the last corner, the college in sight. He smiled, eyes hopeful when he reached the gate, hunching over to catch his breath.

The bell rang, indicating the first period was due to begin.

"Slept in?"

Jungkook looked up, seeing his friend holding out his water bottle for him. He only nodded, taking the bottle and gulping down the drink.

"Yeah," Jungkook replied, gasping slightly. He cleared his throat. "I forgot to set an alarm."

"Hm, well you're lucky classes aren't on today then aren't you?" Jungkook's eyes shot to Namjoon, who couldn't help but look amused. "Did you forget about the Daedongje that's coming up?"

Jungkook opened his mouth, but no words left. He was in disbelief that he had forgotten something so important. Namjoon chuckled at his friends expression. Jungkook's forgetfulness was always something that amused him, despite the fact he could remember every fight he'd ever been in as Spider-Man.

"There's no classes on today, considering many people are planning for the festival. It's why we were taking tests and mock exams yesterday."

"Right, I completely forgot," Jungkook sighed, handing Namjoon back his bottle. "This just means we'll be bombarded with questions all day."

"But it means we can discuss who that Spider-woman may be," Namjoon countered.

Jungkook shrugged. "Good point. Let's head inside and get something to eat, I'm starving."

Namjoon agreed, following behind Jungkook as they entered the building. The corridors were busier than usual - if it could even get any busier - with students pinning up posters, advertising food stalls or their booths for the upcoming event.

"Do have you given any thought to who it may be?"

"I don't have a clue, I'm afraid," Namjoon replied. "Considering there's over ten million options."

"Five million. We know she's a woman."

"Voice changer?" Namjoon questioned, eyebrow raised.

"I find it highly unlikely that-" Jungkook paused, stopping in the middle of the corridor.

That familiar feeling of unease returned. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, body tensing as he felt her presence once again. Ears ringing as he honed in on his senses, trying the pinpoint the source of his tension. Namjoon stood beside him, repeating his name, but it was muffled, as though Namjoon stood on the other side of a wall. But as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone.

"Kook?" Namjoon asked again.

"She's here. She attends here."

Namjoon was silent, looking around the sea of students who spoke amongst themselves, trying to get any indication of something being off. Jungkook watched him, hands balled into fists in an attempt to take his mind off of her closeness.

For a moment, Namjoon stopped, staring off into the distance behind him. His eyes narrowed, locking eyes with someone for a split second. Her hood was up, hands stuffed into her pockets, face slightly shadowed. Though he didn't need to see her face to know who it was.

"You okay, Joon?" Jungkook asked, placing his hand onto his shoulder. Namjoon looked back, nodding.

"Yeah, you're spider tingle just weirds me out a little, I won't lie," Namjoon admitted with a small smile. "Let's get some breakfast."

Jungkook thought nothing of Namjoon's words. It was nothing new about Namjoon's view on his senses. Shrugging, he turned around, heading towards the cafeteria. Namjoon stood for a moment, looking behind him one last time, then following behind.

•─────⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅─────•

The college was open later than usual, many students had gone home early, resting up for another busy day, including Jungkook. Namjoon had decided to stay behind, claiming he wanted to help out a few of the committees with advertising this booths before he went home.

Jungkook had tried to stay, but Namjoon declined, claiming that if another police call was reporting, Jungkook would need to think of an excuse to leave again. Having decided it would be best to go home, in that case, Jungkook did, waving goodbye to his friend as he left.

Namjoon, however, didn't help like he claimed he would. He instead sat in the cafeteria, sitting and waiting. He was sure of who this Spider-Woman was, but wanted to confirm those suspicions.

It was close to nine at night when Namjoon left the college, choosing to take the longer way home than usual. His head was full of possibilities of how this encounter would go, if there even was one. At the end of the day, Jungkook's senses could have been wrong, a possibility Namjoon didn't rule out.

He turned a corner, heading into a small alleyway. He had began to lose hope on his theory, thinking that he was, in fact, wrong. The thought left his mind as soon as it entered, when he was suddenly pinned against the wall. He grunted on impact, looking at the sheer webbing that wrapped around his body.

Namjoon looked up, squinting into the darkness, though he surprisingly wasn't as scared as he thought he would be. The woman was silent as she stepped out of the shadows.

"Good evening," Namjoon casually spoke.

"Hello, Namjoon."

"Ah, so we do know one another," Namjoon smiled.

"I assumed you knew when you saw me this morning?" she asked, pulling down her hood.

"There's no harm in making sure. Now, do you mind letting me go... Y/n?"

You didn't speak, instead walking over and pulling the webbing off of him. Namjoon quietly thanked you, stepping closer to you.

"I assume you have questions?" Namjoon nodded. "I'll answer then, but you must promise me something."

"And what is that?" Namjoon asked, eyes filled with curiosity.

"Don't tell Jungkook my identity."

•─────⋅ᓚᘏᗢ⋅─────•

WOW! Hello lovelies! It has been a WHILE INDEED! I apologise so much for the long wait, writer's block was rough indeed. And to be honest, I am still experiencing it, but I wanted to get something out

seeing Jungkook's b'day yesterday gave me a little motivation, but please do not expect me to be uploading how I usually was before, I'm trying my best! :(

anyway! let me know what you thought! and I can't wait for you to read the coming chapters when they come out!

tranquilreign~

[tranquilreign]

Your enigma masterclass link isn't working.. nor the next ch link! Please fix this! Thankyouu

Hi lovely! I was actually trying to erase the fic from my masterlist- but have it still up so if people came across it they could still read it- I can sort it out best I can so u can read it tho <3

[archivekoo]

˖᯽ ݁˖· WHERE LOVE LEARNS TO SPEAK- jjk x y/n

in which…In a home filled with tired mornings, messy floors, and gentle kisses between chaos, love grows quietly. Between ‘ma’ and ‘dada,’ between sleepless nights and small victories, you and Jungkook learn that family isn’t built in perfect moments, it’s built in the ordinary ones that feel like home.

pairing: girldad!jungkook x mom!reader

genre: modern au | married life | domestic fluff |

warnings&tags: pure fluff | mild kissing | cuteness |

word count: 4.8k

___

The apartment is quiet in that fragile, early morning way where the world feels like it’s holding its breath. The sky outside the bedroom window is still dim and grey, and for a moment you’re floating somewhere between sleep and waking.

Then the sound comes through the baby monitor on your nightstand- a soft, wavering cry that immediately pulls you out of the sleepy haze. Your body reacts before your mind does. You sit up slowly, pushing tangled hair out of your face while the exhaustion presses heavy behind your eyes. Nights have been rough lately; between work stress, bills, and the constant responsibility of caring for someone so small, you rarely feel fully rested anymore.

Still, the cry pulls at something deep in your chest. You’re about to slide out of bed when the bedroom door creaks open and you see Jungkook there, sleepy and rumpled in the hallway light. His hair sticks up in every direction, and his voice is quiet when he murmurs, “I’ve got her.” You nod, but you’re already standing, because neither of you ever really wants to miss a moment with your daughter.

The hallway light is a little too bright for tired eyes, but the sound of those small cries pulls him toward the nursery without hesitation. Parenthood still surprises him sometimes; he used to imagine it as something distant and abstract, something that belonged to older versions of himself. Now it fills every part of his daily life, the tiny socks on the coffee table, the bottles drying by the sink, the quiet hum of the baby monitor that never seems to turn off.

When he gently pushes open the nursery door, the familiar smell of baby powder and warm blankets greets him. Your daughter is in her crib, tiny fists flailing in dramatic frustration, cheeks flushed pink from the effort. The moment he leans over the crib and whispers her name softly, the crying falters into small, confused hiccups.

“Hey, hey…what’s all this about?” he murmurs, lifting her carefully into his arms. She’s warm and impossibly small against his chest, her tiny fingers immediately grabbing the front of his shirt. When he turns toward the doorway, he sees you leaning there watching them with sleepy eyes and a quiet, soft expression that makes something warm settle in his chest.

You step closer, brushing your fingers over your daughter’s soft hair as she calms down in his arms. Being a mother still feels surreal sometimes. There are days when the responsibility feels so huge it makes your chest tighten, when you worry you’re doing everything wrong or that you’ll somehow miss something important. But when she’s like this, small and sleepy and trusting, it reminds you why you’re trying so hard.

Jungkook lowers himself onto the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery, the wood creaking softly as he settles. When he reaches for your hand and gently tugs, you climb onto the arm of the chair beside him until the three of you are pressed together in a sleepy bundle. Your daughter lets out a soft sigh, her tiny hand gripping the fabric of his shirt like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Jungkook presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, then turns and presses another one against your temple. You lean your head against his shoulder, eyes half closed as the rocking chair sways slowly. “We’re doing okay…right?” you whisper quietly, because sometimes the doubt creeps in when everything is too quiet.

He looks down at both of you for a long moment before answering, the rocking motion slow and steady beneath the three of you. Life hasn’t exactly been simple lately. Work has been unpredictable, the kind where every week feels like it might bring another unexpected problem, and there are moments when he lies awake at night calculating bills in his head.

But right now, with your daughter curled safely against his chest and your hand resting lightly over hers, those worries feel far away. “We’re more than okay,” he murmurs eventually, voice soft but certain. Almost as if she understands the conversation, your daughter squirms suddenly and lets out a tiny, surprised laugh, an accidental sound that makes both of you freeze in shock. Then you both start laughing quietly too, the kind of laughter that comes out tired and warm. Jungkook’s eyes light up instantly. “Did you hear that?” he whispers, like she’s just performed something incredible. He presses a kiss to her cheek, then leans closer and kisses you slowly, gently, like he’s sealing the moment in place.

___

By the time afternoon arrives, the apartment has shifted from quiet morning calm into gentle chaos. The living room floor is covered with a soft blanket surrounded by toys that your daughter mostly ignores. She’s lying on her back kicking her feet enthusiastically at absolutely nothing, fascinated by the way her hands move through the air. You’re sitting cross-legged nearby folding tiny baby clothes into small uneven piles, occasionally pausing just to watch her.

Jungkook is lying on the rug beside her, completely absorbed in entertaining her like she’s the most important audience in the world. He makes exaggerated faces, crosses his eyes dramatically, and pretends to gasp in shock every time she wiggles. Normally he’d be embarrassed acting like that in front of anyone else, but for her he’ll do anything. “Look, she’s smiling again,” he says excitedly, like he’s announcing a major discovery. You laugh softly, shaking your head at how easily she’s wrapped him around her tiny finger.

Watching them fills your chest with something warm and complicated. Some days the worries crowd your mind- about money, about the future, about whether you’ll be able to give your daughter everything she deserves. There are moments when you feel like life is racing forward faster than you can keep up. But right now she’s just a baby giggling at her dad’s ridiculous expressions, and somehow that makes the world feel smaller and easier to manage.

Jungkook gently offers his finger, and she grabs it with surprising strength, holding on like it’s the most fascinating object she’s ever discovered. “She’s strong,” he says proudly, like he personally trained her. You roll your eyes affectionately and scoot closer, settling down beside them on the rug. The sunlight spilling through the window warms the room, catching the soft strands of your daughter’s hair as she stares up at both of you.

Jungkook reaches up automatically when you sit beside him, tugging you closer until you’re leaning over his shoulder. Your daughter’s eyes move back and forth between the two of you, wide and curious like she’s trying to understand what’s happening. Jungkook smiles softly, then tilts his head up to kiss you. It’s slow and warm, familiar in that comforting way that only comes from years together. His hand stays loosely wrapped around your daughter’s tiny fingers while the other rests against your cheek. You can feel the quiet affection in the way he kisses you, gentle and patient, like there’s no rush for anything else. Your daughter lets out a small confused noise, staring at both of you like she’s deeply suspicious of this interaction. You pull back slightly, laughing under your breath. “She’s judging us,” you whisper. Jungkook grins, brushing his nose against yours before leaning up to kiss you again.

___

Evening settles in gradually, the sky outside turning warm shades of orange before fading into soft blue. Dinner is quick and messy, eaten in shifts while the other person holds the baby. Your daughter babbles happily in her little chair like she’s contributing to the conversation, waving her hands excitedly whenever one of you speaks. Jungkook occasionally leans over to kiss her cheek between bites, which makes her squeal in delight every time.

Later, after a warm bath that leaves her smelling like soap and clean blankets, she grows sleepy in your arms. The apartment grows quieter again as night approaches, the earlier chaos settling into peaceful stillness.

By the time you place her carefully into her crib, she’s already half asleep. Her tiny hand curls near her face, her breathing slow and steady as she drifts off completely. You linger there for a moment longer than necessary, adjusting her blanket and brushing a fingertip over her soft cheek. When you step back into the hallway, Jungkook is already waiting there. He slips his arm around your shoulders without thinking, pulling you gently into his side as the two of you stand together in the nursery doorway.

The soft glow of the nightlight spills across the room, casting gentle shadows against the walls. After a long day full of tiny responsibilities, the quiet feels almost sacred. You lean into his side, resting your head against his shoulder while your hand slides over his where it rests around you. For a moment neither of you says anything. Jungkook presses a soft kiss into your hair, then another against your cheek, lingering there. Your fingers intertwine with his automatically, the familiarity of the gesture comforting.

Standing there together, watching your daughter sleep peacefully in the dim nursery light, something inside you settles. Life is still complicated. There will still be stressful mornings, unexpected problems, and days when both of you feel overwhelmed. But in that quiet moment, with Jungkook’s arm around you and your daughter sleeping safely just a few steps away, it feels like the two of you have somehow built a small, warm world that’s strong enough to hold all three of you.

___

The next morning doesn’t arrive quietly. Instead, it begins with a loud, determined babble echoing through the baby monitor, followed by the unmistakable thump of tiny feet kicking the mattress of the crib. Your eyes flutter open slowly, your brain still foggy with sleep, until you hear Jungkook groan softly beside you. “She’s awake,” he murmurs into the pillow, sounding equal parts exhausted and amused. You glance at the clock and sigh quietly, it’s earlier than either of you would like, but your daughter has clearly decided the day should begin. Before you can even sit up properly, Jungkook is already pushing himself out of bed, dragging a hand through his messy hair.

A few seconds later you hear his footsteps padding down the hallway, followed by the creak of the nursery door opening. The babbling gets louder instantly, transforming into an excited squeal that makes you smile despite the tiredness.

Inside the nursery, Jungkook leans over the crib just in time for your daughter to bounce excitedly on her wobbly legs. The moment she sees him, her whole face lights up like he’s the most fascinating thing she’s ever encountered. “Good morning to you too, princess.” he laughs quietly, scooping her up before she can topple sideways. She grabs onto his shirt immediately, pressing her cheek against his shoulder like she’s already decided this is the perfect place to start the day.

When you appear in the doorway a minute later, rubbing your eyes and leaning against the frame, Jungkook glances up and smiles softly. “Someone’s in a good mood today,” he says, gently bouncing her in his arms. Your daughter turns her head toward you at the sound of your voice, letting out a happy little squeal and reaching one tiny hand in your direction.

You step closer, brushing a kiss against her warm cheek before resting your head briefly against Jungkook’s shoulder. Mornings are always chaotic now- diapers, bottles, laundry, trying to get yourselves ready for the day while keeping a tiny human entertained, but there’s something about these slow moments that makes the exhaustion easier to handle.

Jungkook hands her to you while he stretches his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to wake up properly. The moment she settles in your arms, she grabs a handful of your hair with surprising determination. “Ow, hey,” you laugh softly, gently freeing the strands from her tiny fist. Jungkook watches the whole interaction with quiet amusement before leaning forward to press a soft kiss against your lips. It’s quick and sleepy, but warm enough to make your chest feel lighter.

Breakfast ends up being the usual juggling act. You sit at the kitchen table with your daughter on your lap while Jungkook moves around the kitchen making toast and pouring coffee. She’s fascinated by everything, the clinking of dishes, the sunlight hitting the table, the way Jungkook keeps making exaggerated “wow” faces every time she bangs her spoon against the tray of her little chair. “She’s going to think that’s normal behaviour,” you warn him, trying not to laugh as he dramatically gasps at every tiny movement she makes.

“It is normal behaviour,” he argues with mock seriousness. “She’s clearly a genius.” Your daughter responds by smacking her spoon against the tray again, clearly pleased with the attention.

___

Later in the morning the apartment fills with the quiet noise of everyday life. Laundry hums in the background, the kettle whistles occasionally, and your daughter spends a surprising amount of time staring very seriously at one of her stuffed toys like she’s having an important conversation with it. You sit on the couch answering a few work emails on your laptop while Jungkook sits cross-legged on the rug with her, helping her stack colourful plastic rings in a tower that she immediately knocks over with delighted laughter. “Hey! I worked hard on that,” he protests dramatically every time she destroys it. She just squeals and claps her hands, clearly thrilled by the chaos she’s creating.

At one point, she crawls determinedly toward the couch, pulling herself up against your leg with a proud little grunt. You glance down just in time to see her wobble slightly before steadying herself. “Jungkook,” you call softly, trying not to startle her. He looks over instantly, eyes widening as he watches her standing there with your support.

For a moment neither of you moves. Your daughter looks between the two of you like she’s deciding whether this whole standing thing is worth the effort. Then she lets out a triumphant little noise and plops back down onto the carpet. Jungkook laughs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. “Did you see that?” he says, like it’s the most impressive achievement he’s ever witnessed.

___

The afternoon drifts by slowly after that, filled with small moments that seem insignificant but somehow mean everything. Your daughter naps curled against Jungkook’s chest while he sits on the couch, one hand gently rubbing slow circles on her back. You take the opportunity to finally shower and change into something comfortable, the warm water helping ease some of the tension that’s been sitting in your shoulders all week.

When you come back into the living room, you pause for a moment just watching them. Jungkook is half asleep himself, his head tilted back against the couch, your daughter breathing softly against his chest. The sight makes something warm bloom in your chest.

You sit beside him carefully so you don’t wake her, brushing your fingers lightly through his messy hair. His eyes open slowly at the touch, blinking up at you with a sleepy smile. “Hey,” he murmurs. You lean down and kiss him softly, careful not to jostle the small sleeping bundle between you. His free hand finds yours automatically, fingers intertwining without thought. For a moment the three of you sit there in comfortable silence, the quiet hum of the apartment surrounding you.

___

When evening comes again, it brings the familiar rhythm of bath time, pajamas, and the slow process of convincing your daughter that sleep is actually a good idea. Jungkook kneels beside the bathtub making ridiculous bubble beards while she splashes water everywhere with enthusiastic determination. You’re laughing so hard at one point that you have to lean against the wall to steady yourself. “You’re encouraging her,” you manage between breaths. “I’m bonding with my child,” he insists, though he’s clearly enjoying himself just as much.

By the time she’s finally clean, dry, and bundled into her soft pajamas, the apartment feels warm and peaceful again. You rock her gently in the dim nursery light while Jungkook leans against the wall nearby, watching both of you with a soft expression. Her tiny hand curls around your finger as her eyes slowly begin to close. When you finally lay her down in the crib, she barely stirs.

The two of you linger in the doorway again, just like the night before. Jungkook slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side while you both watch your daughter sleeping peacefully. After a moment, he presses a soft kiss against your temple, then another against your cheek. Your hand finds his automatically, fingers intertwining as you lean into him.

Outside the window the city continues moving, cars passing, distant voices drifting up from the street, but inside the nursery everything feels quiet and steady. And standing there together, watching your daughter sleep while Jungkook’s arm rests securely around you, it feels like the two of you have somehow created a small, safe world where love exists in the simplest things: sleepy mornings, messy afternoons, soft kisses, and the tiny sound of your daughter breathing peacefully in her crib.

___

The next few days pass in that same gentle rhythm, where time seems to blur together in a mix of ordinary moments that somehow feel important.

One afternoon, the living room is filled with warm sunlight spilling through the window, catching dust particles in the air and making everything feel softer somehow. Your daughter is sitting on the rug surrounded by toys she’s only half interested in, her tiny legs sticking straight out in front of her while she studies a stuffed bunny like it’s a complicated puzzle. You’re sitting on the couch nearby with a mug of tea that’s already gone cold, watching her while you try to finish answering a few work messages on your phone.

Across the room, Jungkook is assembling something that looks suspiciously like a baby walker, though half the pieces are still scattered across the floor around him. Every few seconds he glances up just to check what your daughter is doing, like he’s worried she might accomplish something incredible the moment he looks away.

She suddenly decides the stuffed bunny isn’t interesting enough and begins crawling across the rug toward Jungkook with determined little grunts. He notices immediately, abandoning the instruction manual and stretching his arms out toward her. “Where are you going, huh?” he says softly, his voice automatically shifting into that warm, playful tone he only uses with her. She pulls herself upright by grabbing onto his knee, wobbling slightly but refusing to let go.

You watch the interaction with quiet amusement, because moments like this happen constantly now, your daughter discovering new tiny ways to move through the world while Jungkook reacts like every single one is a historic achievement. He steadies her gently with one hand while brushing her hair away from her forehead with the other. “You’re getting stronger every day,” he murmurs.

She stares up at him with those wide, curious eyes that always seem to be trying to figure everything out. For a moment, she just studies his face like she’s memorizing it, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Jungkook smiles softly at her, clearly content to sit there forever if she wants. Then she opens her mouth like she’s about to babble the usual stream of nonsense sounds she makes throughout the day. Instead, a small, careful sound comes out.

“D…da.”

You freeze instantly on the couch, Jungkook blinks.

Your daughter looks extremely pleased with herself, repeating the sound with slightly more confidence this time. “Da…da.”

For a moment neither of you moves, the entire room falling into stunned silence like the world itself has paused. Jungkook slowly turns his head toward you, eyes wide in disbelief. “Did she-” he starts, then stops because your daughter says it again, louder this time.

“Dada!”

You burst out laughing before you can stop yourself, the sound bubbling out of you in pure disbelief. Jungkook looks like someone just told him he won the lottery and he’s still trying to process it. “No way,” he whispers, staring down at her like she’s just performed actual magic. Your daughter claps her hands together happily, apparently thrilled by the reaction she’s getting.

“Say it again,” Jungkook says softly, leaning closer to her like he’s negotiating with a tiny celebrity.

“Dada!” she squeals proudly.

You slide off the couch and join them on the rug, unable to stop smiling even though you’re shaking your head. “Wow,” you say dramatically. “Okay. So that’s how it is.” Jungkook immediately looks guilty, like he somehow cheated even though neither of you had any control over this moment. “Hey, I didn’t teach her that,” he protests weakly, though he’s clearly glowing with pride.

Your daughter looks between the two of you like she’s trying to figure out why everyone is suddenly so emotional. Jungkook scoops her into his arms, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to her cheek while she giggles loudly. “You said your first word, baby.” he tells her softly, like she understands exactly what that means. She grabs his face with both tiny hands, squishing his cheeks together while babbling happily.

You lean closer, brushing a kiss against the top of her head. “You know,” you say thoughtfully, pretending to be very serious, “statistically babies say ‘mama’ first most of the time.” Jungkook laughs under his breath, resting his forehead lightly against yours while still holding your daughter between you. “Maybe she just knows I’m her favourite,” he teases quietly.

Your daughter immediately interrupts by smacking his chin with her tiny hand.

“Okay, maybe not,” he admits.

The moment settles into something warm and playful as the three of you sit there on the rug together. Jungkook lets her hold onto his fingers while she babbles happily, occasionally attempting another proud “dada” like she’s testing how the word feels. Every time she says it, Jungkook’s entire face lights up again like it’s the first time.

Eventually he glances at you, his expression softening as he watches the way you look at her. “She’s growing up way too fast,” he murmurs quietly.

You nod a little, resting your head lightly against his shoulder while your daughter sits between you, holding both of your fingers like she’s anchoring herself there. “Yeah,” you say softly. “But we get to watch all of it.”

Jungkook turns slightly and presses a gentle kiss against your lips, warm and lingering in that quiet way that feels natural now. Your daughter immediately makes a curious little noise, staring at both of you like she’s deeply suspicious of this interaction. When you pull back, you can’t help laughing softly.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper to her, brushing her hair back gently. “You’ll understand eventually.”

She responds by proudly declaring “Dada!” one more time.

Jungkook groans in amused disbelief while you laugh again, the sound filling the warm afternoon light of the apartment. And sitting there together on the floor with your daughter between you, her tiny hands gripping both of yours like you’re the centre of her whole world, it feels like one of those moments you’ll remember forever, even years from now, when life has changed again and she’s grown into someone bigger than the small baby who just spoke her very first word.

___

After that afternoon, the word doesn’t stop echoing through the apartment.

It slips into everything, quiet moments, background noise, even the way your thoughts wander when you’re half-focused on work or laundry or trying to remember what you were supposed to do next.

Your daughter keeps testing it like it’s a toy she’s newly discovered, sitting on the rug and proudly announcing “dada!” at completely random intervals, as if she’s checking whether the world still reacts the same way each time. And every single time, without fail, it does.

Jungkook acts like he’s trying to stay calm about it. But he’s absolutely not calm about it.

He tries to pretend he is, clearing his throat, nodding seriously, acting like it’s just another normal day, but the way he looks at her every time she says it gives him away completely. It’s softer than usual, like something inside him has loosened in a way he didn’t even realise was tight. You notice it most when he thinks you’re not looking: the way he pauses for half a second longer than necessary just to watch her, the way his hand instinctively finds hers or yours like he needs to stay grounded in the moment.

___

And then one morning, the “dada” stops being the main event.

It happens quietly.

You’re in the kitchen, hair tied up messily, trying to make breakfast while your daughter sits in her highchair banging a spoon against the tray like she’s conducting an orchestra. Jungkook is beside her, half leaning against the counter, sipping coffee that’s definitely gone cold by now. The apartment is filled with soft noise, cutlery, morning light, the faint hum of life continuing.

Your daughter suddenly stops banging.

She looks at you. Properly looks at you, like she’s deciding something important.

Jungkook notices first, his voice already softening. “What is it?” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You glance up just in time to see her straighten slightly in her chair, tiny fingers curling around the edge of the tray. Her mouth opens like she’s about to babble, but she doesn’t. She just stares at you, very seriously, like she’s been thinking about this for a while.

And then, in a small, careful voice that doesn’t quite land perfectly but is unmistakably deliberate-

“Ma.”

You freeze, the spoon in your hand stops mid-air.

Jungkook goes completely still.

Your daughter waits.

Like she knows, like she’s giving the world time to understand.

“Ma,” she says again, a little clearer this time, blinking up at you like she’s proud but also slightly unsure if she did it right.

There’s a beat of silence so heavy it feels like the entire apartment is holding its breath.

Then Jungkook lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a breath of disbelief. “Oh my-” he starts, but doesn’t finish, because you’re already laughing in shock, covering your mouth with your hand as your chest tightens in that overwhelming way only moments like this can do.

“She said it,” you manage, voice breaking slightly. “She actually-”

“Yeah,” he says, staring at her like she’s just rewritten reality. “She did.”

Your daughter, very pleased with herself, claps her hands once like she’s concluded the conversation.

Then, as if she doesn’t want anyone to feel left out, she adds softly-

“Dada.”

And then looks between you both like, see? I balanced it.

That’s when Jungkook loses it properly, laughing under his breath as he leans forward, resting his forehead against the edge of the counter. “She’s diplomatic,” he says dramatically. “Already emotionally intelligent.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling so hard it hurts. “She’s one and she’s already managing both of us.”

He straightens up, walking over to you with that familiar softness in his expression, the one that always shows up when things feel too full in his chest to say properly. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, lingering for a second too long before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Hey,” he murmurs quietly. “You heard her too, right?”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”

He glances down at your daughter again, who is now very satisfied with herself and currently trying to eat the spoon instead of using it properly. “That’s… kind of everything,” he says softly.

And you understand what he means without needing more words.

___

The weeks after that feel different in small ways.

Not in anything dramatic. Life is still life, laundry still piles up, work still sends emails at the worst possible times, sleep is still something you both negotiate in fragments, but there’s a shift in the air that neither of you says out loud.

She starts saying more words.

Little ones at first. Unclear ones. Half-formed sounds that only you and Jungkook can interpret like secret codes. She calls the cat “ka,” the sun “su,” and occasionally just points at random objects and declares them with full confidence like she’s naming the world as she sees it.

But she keeps saying both.

“Ma.”

“Dada.”

Like she refuses to choose, refuses to rank love, like it all just exists equally in her small universe.

And somehow, that feels right.

___

One evening, everything slows down again.

The three of you are on the living room floor, scattered like you’ve collapsed there naturally rather than chosen it. There’s a soft film playing on the TV nobody is really watching. Your daughter is leaning against Jungkook’s chest, half asleep, her small hand curled around his sleeve like she’s holding on without thinking about it.

You’re beside them, head resting against his shoulder, fingers lightly tracing idle shapes on the blanket.

Jungkook shifts slightly, adjusting her so she’s more comfortable, and she mumbles something sleepy against him. He smiles instantly, brushing his fingers over her back in slow, calming motions.

“You tired, hm?” he whispers.

She doesn’t answer properly. Just presses closer.

He looks at you then, quietly.

There’s something in his expression that feels heavier than words. Not sadness. Not worry. Just awareness. Like he’s standing in a moment he knows he’ll want to remember exactly as it is.

“You ever think about how strange this is?” he asks softly.

You hum slightly, not opening your eyes. “What is?”

“This,” he says, gesturing faintly between all three of you. “Us. Her. This life.”

You open your eyes then, watching your daughter breathing against his chest, so small and completely safe there. And for a second you understand what he means, how strange it is that something so ordinary can feel so overwhelming.

“Yeah,” you admit quietly. “But it’s ours.”

He nods at that, like it settles something inside him.

Then he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your daughter’s head. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. After a moment, he turns and kisses you too- soft, slow, like he’s anchoring himself.

And you stay like that for a while, just the three of you.

The world outside continuing, as always, but somehow not reaching you here.

Because in the end, it isn’t about the first word, or the second, or even the way time keeps moving forward whether you’re ready or not.

It’s about this.

This small, ordinary, impossible kind of love that builds itself quietly in between mornings and mess and laughter and exhaustion.

And as your daughter shifts in her sleep, murmuring something that sounds like both “ma” and “dada” at once, you realise she’s already understood something the world is still teaching you both:

Love doesn’t have to choose where it belongs.

It just stays.

a/n: honestly felt tears in my eyes whilst writing this, they’re too cute for me. Looking for new ideas/recommendations for a series rather than a smaller fic, requests are always open! 🙂

[tranquilreign]

GIVE IT TO MEEEE

[minyoonjin]

like... just look at him😮‍💨 (for @jinv ⭐︎)

[tranquilreign]

nda | bts x reader | prologue

- all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

🗒 details

pairing; bts x reader genre: idol! au, smut, angst warnings; swearing word count: 744 taglist: @3lectraheart @cprcupakke @kookiesamy @Nellbyyy @buckylov3r @nothere24-7 @rh4enyr4 @kooslilhoe @jkkverse @justreadingficsdontmindme @minjianhyung (please use the link to ask to be tagged- otherwise I might not see it)

🖋 synopsis

nda (n.) en-dee-ay a non-disclosure agreement. there's less than a one percent chance for one of the members of the biggest boyband in the world to notice you, and remember you. imagine how lucky you are when all seven know who you are.

🖇links

navigations nda masterlist ask taglist - open

The atmosphere was heavy with tension. A silence filling the air that was almost suffocating. The room was dim, the blinds blocking out the harsh rays of the sun, further adding to the intensity you were feeling. Hands clammy with sweat, you subconsciously rubbed them on your trousers, gripping your knees ever so slightly to help ease your nerves. You never had thought, that you, of all people, would be in this type of situation. Sitting in a darkened room, waiting for something- anything, to happen.

As if on queue, the door opened. Instinctively, you looked towards the sound, noticing a woman walking into the room, papers in hand. She was short, dark hair tied back into a loose ponytail and glasses sitting low on the bridge of her nose. She gasped when she saw you.

"Oh, I am so sorry," she scrambled to turn on the lights, "whoever escorted you in here, should have turned on a light, or at least opened the blinds." Her tone was soft, gentle, giving you a sense of ease.

"It's alright," you responded. "I was informed that I wouldn't be waiting too long." Though, you ended up waiting twenty minutes.

"Well, you won't be waiting any longer," she beamed. "The boys will be through momentarily."

What she said was correct. Not even thirty seconds later, the door had opened once again. Before you, stood the biggest boyband in the world. BTS. You were well aware of how good they looked behind a screen, but in person was a completely different story.

You tried not to stare, but you couldn't help yourself. They were just too handsome. To be polite, you stood, bowing low to them in greetings. A few of them seemed surprised by your actions, but returned the gesture.

"Good morning," the leader, Namjoon, spoke politely.

"You don't need to communicate with me in English," you smiled, "I would hope my Korean is good enough for us to converse in."

"Why, of course. My apologies, I tend to automatically assume that foreigners don't speak our language, or very little of it at most."

You laughed gently.

"There's no need to apologise, I would do the same, in your position."

Your eyes shifted between the members, each of them staring at you with looks you couldn't quite comprehend.

"So, why am I here?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

No one had explained to you why you had suddenly been brought to the main Hybe building.

"Oh, no one told you anything?" the woman from earlier asked.

You shook your head.

"Ah. Well, the boys have taken... a particular interest in you, and since they are hard working, sometimes they need a little bit- of stress relief."

"You mean they need to fuck the stress out their system," you replied, not beating around the bush.

The woman turned red.

"I-I guess so."

"Alright," you answered calmly, though on the inside you were trying not to scream. "So, who am I 'partnered' with then."

"Well, actually-" Yoongi spoke softly. "We all want you."

"If, of course, you are comfortable enough to be with all of us. If you would prefer only one of us, that is acceptable as well," Hoseok continued, trying to reassure you, that you have a choice in the matter.

"I see," you paused. "Is there a contract for this?"

"Yes, of course," the woman spoke, sliding a piece of paper in front of you.

You lifted the paper, reading over the document. Eyebrows furrowed, your eyes scanned over the words, taking in the information.

"Do I get to keep my job?" you suddenly asked.

"I- well-"

"If you want too," Namjoon interrupted.

"Good. My boss would find it suspicious that I am suddenly departing. Plus, I wouldn't expect any special treatment from you guys. After all this isn't a sugar daddy, sugar baby situation."

"Why would he find it suspicious?" Jimin asked.

"She," you corrected, "gave me a job when I was struggling to pay rent. Besides, I like my job anyway."

"And what is it that you do?" Namjoon questioned.

You chuckled. "I would've thought you boys would have done your research," you teased. "Lets say... I'm an exotic dancer."

You watched as Jungkook's eyes widened at your words, attempting to conceal his growing smile behind his feigned shock. You raised an eyebrow at him, indicating you saw right through his facade.

"Right," you paused, looking at them individually, "where do I sign?"

[tranquilreign]

nda | bts x reader | masterlist | coming soon...

- all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

🗒 details

pairing; bts x reader genre: idol! au, smut, angst warnings; varies each chapter total word count: n/a permanent taglist: n/a (please use the link to ask to be tagged- otherwise I might not see it)

🖋 synopsis

nda (n.) en-dee-ay a non-disclosure agreement. there's less than a one percent chance for one of the members of the biggest boyband in the world to notice you, and remember you. imagine how lucky you are when all seven know who you are.

🖇links

navigations ask taglist - open

🗒 index

prologue

[tranquilreign]

im in love with the green theme RAHH

OML STAWPPPP! It was so time for a change fr fr !!!

[tranquilreign]

drabble #1

- all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

🗒 details

pairing; jungkook/reader warnings; vaping, mentions of smoking/vaping, mentions of anxiety and medication. word count: 748

Jungkook knew that the groups newest comeback would be stressful. The amount of pressure that weighed on their shoulders to be better than they had ever been was beginning to take its tole. Bodies and voices sore from the consistent high demand of their performances.

They were only a third of the way through their tour. The current stop being London. The crowd had been amazing, cheering them on and interacting with them, instead of trying to capture the memory through their phone. It was refreshing.

But his body was reaching it's limit for the day.

"Only two songs left," he whispered to himself, sitting backstage and staring into nothing.

It was getting hot, and he was struggling to focus, eyes blurring.

"How long until we go back on?" he asked one of the staff.

"Five minutes," she replied, taking a quick glance at her watch.

"I need to step outside," he announced.

Protests followed behind him, but he ignored it, moving to the door at the back of the stadium and shutting it quickly behind himself. A sigh escaped his lips, the screams seeming to have ceased, if only for a moment.

"Want a hit?"

The sudden voice startled him, not taking notice to the woman that stood next to him. Eyebrow raised, he scanned her, eyes falling upon the vape that was extended towards him.

He was tempted, knowing that the inhale always took some edge off for him.

"No thanks, I managed to stop smoking and vaping a while ago," he explained, looking back out to the darkening streets of London.

The woman simply shrugged, pulling the vape back up to her lips.

"Stressful day?"

Jungkook chuckled. "Guess you could say that."

The woman hummed, a smile gracing her features.

"Well, I suppose that's what happens when you're part of the biggest boyband in the world." Jungkook gave her a look. "Don't worry, I won't bring you any attention. Though, it is nice to meet you."

He paused. "Likewise, you're Korean is very good."

"Thank you," she replied. "I started learning a few years ago. Wanted to experience your songs properly, without having to look at English translations."

"Ah, so you're a fan?" Jungkook teased.

She snorted. "Of course, I am. Who isn't at this point?"

"Did you not manage to get tickets? If you're out here?" he asked, guilt forming in the pit of his stomach.

"I did," she chuckled. "I got them for tomorrow, though. I just tend to come to the back of the stadium on days were my anxiety spikes." Jungkook gave her a sympathetic look. "It's alright, I've been dealing with it for a while now."

"Have you not been to a doctor? To see if you can get any medication?" Jungkook asked cautiously, knowing that the topic of the doctors could be upsetting.

"I have," she paused, taking a draw from her vape. "A lot of the medication I was given actually made it worse. I ended up experiencing insomnia due to it, which as a result, was making my anxiety worse."

"I see," Jungkook muttered.

"It's fine, I've learned to live with it. Learned when I need to remove myself from situations or need to take a breather."

"It's not something I think you should just 'learn to live with,'" Jungkook fired back, not understanding why his concern was growing more for someone he barely knew.

She chuckled.

"If it makes you feel any better, I often listen to your music to help me focus and stay calm. Sometimes even if I'm needing a confidence boost."

There was a pause.

"I don't think you realise just how many people you and the rest of BTS have helped. You've taught a lot of youth how to love themselves, or accept their flaws. And for that, some of us will be forever grateful for that."

"Jungkook, we're on in 30 seconds," a new voice spoke.

Jungkook turned his head to the door, locking eyes with Yoongi, whose eyebrows were raised in confusion.

"I'll be right there."

Jungkook turned his head back around to the woman, noticing that she was now walking away.

"Hey wait! Where about in the crowd will you be tomorrow."

The woman looked over her shoulder, a small smile evident.

"I got VIP, so you'll see me in the crowd."

Jungkook hesitated. "And... your name?"

The woman now fully turned around, pulling the vape out from between her lips.

"Y/n. My name is Y/n."

[pjminii]

CULT CLASSIC ! jeon jungkook

the rewind series

you were just renting your usual blockbuster from the stupidly hot guy at the video store, when it turns out you’ve been handed a tape you really shouldn’t be watching. are you an intruder, or did he give it to you on purpose?

⌗ pairings. jeon jungkook x female reader

⌗ word count. 17k

⌗ warnings and tags. pwp, don juankook (lol, jk is a ladiesman), voyeurism, penetrative sex, smitten!oc, kinda smitten!jk, weird love confession, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), oc goes limp with overstimulation lol, jk is kinda all over the places — neither dom or sub, oral pleasure (m!receiving), cum swallowing, cum eating, sloppy aftercare.

notes ! okay this is a bit overdue buttttt at least i finished it, hey! i’m so beyond amazed by my lovely girl ana’s ‘special delivery’, so i’m hoping this won’t disappoint LMAO! anyways, this is crazy. buckle up guys.

banner by @voyter obviouslyyyy

Having a stupid, all-consuming crush is something that defines girlhood. Shoving everything of importance out of your way in order to see, or spend time with set crush is really the only fair option as a young girl. 

However, when the crush has lasted for almost a decade, and you still have yet to make any further progress… it borders on obsession. And it’s incredibly embarrassing.

You see, there’s this video store in town, this tiny, kind of grungy shop that contains every single piece of media imaginable. Old and dusty traveling magazines that no one bothers reading, records and CD’s you spend months saving up for… and what is seemingly a collection of every single movie ever made. 

And behind the counter of that blockbuster shop, there sits a boy you’ve been pining after since the sixth grade. 

Jeon Jungkook. A boy so painfully attractive and charming that he has simply ruined every other man for you, ever. And so incredibly out of reach that you feel like he’s more of a distant dream rather than a real human being. 

The first spark of attraction appeared a few weeks after your twelfth birthday. You saw him through your window, which overviews the park. And there he was, the sixteen-year-old Jungkook, lighting up a cigarette near the entrance, watching patiently over the narrow path as a girl with dark hair approached him. 

At your ripe age, this was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen. The way his hand snaked underneath her coat when she hugged him. How he seemingly whispered something in her ear, grinning back at her when she retracted. 

A few days later, you found out who the girl was. Tina Agnello’s cousin, who was in town for the week. You had overheard Tina talk about it during lunch break, sitting a few tables down from yours, and you almost choked on your yoghurt. 

“Isn’t fourteen a bit young for a sixteen-year-old?” you huffed, mostly to yourself. But your friend picked it up, frowning at you. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Nothing.”

It shouldn’t really have surprised you that Jungkook grew up to be the town’s Don Juan. 

He became sort of a community ride… a town bike, if you’d like. At first, you maybe thought there was something incredibly wrong with him, like some serious mental problems. Because why else would he be pounding around town? 

But at fifteen, when you stumbled into the new video store in town, trying to escape the rain that had started pouring down outside, you unexpectedly fell head first into a real-life interaction with him. And weirdly enough, he seemed perfectly normal. Disgustingly charming, that is, but normal. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Jungkook’s voice wasn’t all that deep, but it was soft, curling low in your stomach. 

You stood leaning against the glass door, your wet hair clinging to your temples, droplets falling onto the floor. “What?”

He pointed towards the street behind you, “The rain.” 

Maybe it was your brain short-cutting, but you didn’t understand what he meant… like at all. Your brows furrowed, and you repeated your question. “What?” 

“It’s this thing I do to spark sales. Trap the costumers inside.”

“You make it rain?” 

He chuckled at his own joke, incredibly stupid, but also numbingly cute, “Yeah, I find rain-dances to be very affective.”

It made you kind of mad that this guy had a captivating personality on top of his unfair looks. It would’ve honestly been better if he was just a dumb, stupid idiot, sleeping around town. But he made you laugh… and made you buy unnecessarily amounts of items from his store.

Was he a good salesman? No… not necessarily. But he was so damn flirty that you thought he might marry you if you watched the Star Trek chronicles. 

And now, at your grown age of twenty fucking years old, your bookshelf is short of books and filled to the brim with Jungkook’s movie recommendations. It might be embarrassing, but it has become a weekly ritual. Every Saturday, you stop by his shop, return last week’s watch and pick up a new one. 

“Now, how was it?” he leans forward, bracing his elbows on the counter. His eyes smize at you, trying to read the expression on your face. 

You almost can’t answer because of how close he is. Even though you’ve known each other for five years, he still has this weird hold on you, and you have to clear your throat before you speak. “I liked that the bad guy’s name was Lord Humungus.” 

He presses his lips together, his lip ring getting caught in the motion, and his eyebrows rise high on his forehead. “Yeah?” he nods, teasingly, and you want to go home and puke and cry. “That’s all… or…?” 

The chuckle he lets out brushes against your face… yeah, he’s that close, and your brain short-circuits. Your eyes dart down to your hands, where the VHS tape dangles from your fingers, and you slide it across the counter. “It was better than the first one.”

“I told you it worked as a stand-alone, you didn’t have to bore yourself with the first,” he smirks, the smile tugging on only one side of his lips, bearing just a bit of his bunny-teeth. 

You shrug, “I like to make up my own opinions, thanks.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

It might be a bizarre way to describe it, but his voice is laced with sex. Constantly. Like there’s always some hidden innuendo behind his words. And with the way he’s leaning forward, his biceps straining through the fabric of his navy uniform-tee, your mind runs laps, completely fogging and erasing every word you try uttering. So you just roll your eyes, trying to act casual. 

“Sorry if I don’t love macho-car-movies,” you scoff, letting your hands slip away from the counter only to tremble nervously at your sides. It’s like your whole body is vibrating just by being near him, and this isn’t anything new. It’s always been like that. He’s just that charming. 

Jungkook hums, nodding slowly before narrowing his eyes, a wondering look appearing on his face. Just to not seem like a lost sheep, you copy his facial expression and glower right back at him. 

“Mhm,” he bites down on the inside of his cheek, his eyes skimming over your face before traveling lower. You have to compose yourself, shifting a bit in your stance, trying not to burst into flames. Jungkook takes his time before he speaks, finally locking with your eyes again. “You’d watch anything I tell you to, right?”

Holy mother of god. Of course you nod. Because you’re an idiot, and you’re certain your voice is going to crack halfway through your answer. And when Jungkook smirks at your obvious flustered state of being, your pulse spikes. His tongue flicks over the metal in his mouth, inherently seductive, even if it isn’t intended to be, and you think you might have to go cry in the backroom. 

Then, without a word, he backs off from the counter and turns to the shelf behind him. He skims over the many cassettes in front of him, searching for something without speaking. You swallow behind him, finally freed from his captivating gaze, forced to stare at the way his back muscles move in waves underneath his tee while he stretches tall before the shelf. 

His tattooed arm reaches out for a tape high above him, but it hesitates before it once again falls back to his side, “It’s here somewhere…” 

You try waiting patiently for him to find whatever movie he’s looking for, but you can’t help yourself. Your gaze drifts, drops actually, and lands on his butt… unfortunately. It’s tightly hidden underneath his dark-washed jeans, accompanied by a pair of strong thighs. Such a nice and perky butt. Your head tilts a bit, taking in the view, if you’d like, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

It’s a shame that this is the exact moment Jungkook gives up on his search and turns abruptly. Your eyes widen, and you flinch, hoping he didn’t just see the way you were drooling over the chiseled shape of his ass. 

But instead of commenting on your awkwardness, he drops to the ground, crouching down on the floor to inspect the hallow counter which contains several more blockbusters. 

He grunts and groans while his fingers flick through the options, never landing on his target. 

“Digging for gold?” you tease, boldly leaning over the counter to look at him. He doesn’t even meet your gaze, he just keeps searching, his eyebrows curled together in a knot on his forehead. 

“Give me a second.”

You hear him pulling out a large cardboard box, watching over as his muscles tense as he drags it forward. And with a grunt, he lifts it, getting up on his feet and dropping it onto the counter. As you peek over the edge of it, you see it’s filled to the brim with identical black CD-covers, just with different scribblings on the side. 

Jungkook’s slender fingers brush over the covers, flipping through the countless pieces until he finally grabs ahold of one. The one with the title Memento poorly written in white marker on the edge. 

“Ah, there you are.” He pulls out the piece from the pool of covers while letting out a sigh of relief. “Thought I’d lost her.”

You lift your chin, looking over at Jungkook who is seemingly lost in his own little world that only contains him and this very neutral tape. “Memento?”

“It’s fucking great.” His eyes dart up, meeting yours, and you almost chuckle at the way they light up. It’s such a cute thing for a guy to have a hobby, to be in love with something. That is of course if you look past the excruciating mansplaining that follows. “A man with short term memory loss—so the entire movie is shot backwards. From end to beginning. You learn the plot with him, it’s insane. He uses these post-it notes to keep track of time, place and faces. Revolutionary, I’ve neve—”

“Shush,” you rip the cover from his hands, cutting off his monologue. You know just how long he can go on if he’d like. There have been times where you’d wondered if he might be on the spectrum, given the fact that he’s constantly restless, and a complete nerd when he wants to, but you don’t like to dwell on that. It’s cute, and it obviously works for him, so you let him act a bit strange. “Let me find out for myself.”

“Mhm, brat.”

You nearly gush at the new nickname, your nostrils flaring as you breathe in deeply. Your hands fall to your sides, and you unconsciously sway a bit in your stance, not really sure if you want to end the interaction here, or if you want to stay, maybe fling yourself over the counter, straddle this man like a horse. The ladder might not be the best idea, so you start searching for coins that are buried deep in the tiny back pocket of your jeans, eager to get the hell out of this place. 

“4.99?” you ask, as if you don’t already know the price. You’re here every week, so it really is etched in your memory. But so is everything he tells you. 

Jungkook smirks, his gum-drop eyes narrowing, “On the house. Since Mad Max wasn’t really your thing.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll pay.”

“Keep your money, peach, I don’t want it.”

Ugh, you hate when he calls you that. Peach. It sounds like some awful pet name that your dad would call you. So you’d really like for him to stop, but the one time you asked him to, it seemingly just fueled him. So you pray that one day he might see you as someone other than this little girl who buys stuff from him without second guessing his opinion. Maybe he’ll one day see you as a woman. Yesss that would be good. And you already know what it is he loves to do with women. Half the moms in town has slept with him. 

Jesus your mind is wandering. You scrunch your nose, trying to act affronted by his arrogance, when really your mind is running through every woman in town who has gotten the taste of him. The jealousy blooming inside you is like a kid’s rage when they’re not allowed candy on a weekday. Why can’t you also have nice things?

“Fine, but I’ll repay you if I love it.”

“Deal,” he nods, his large hand reaching out before him, gesturing for you to shake it, “And don’t worry, peach. You’ll love it.”

Your entire apartment smells of butter and salt as you wait for the microwave’s timer to drop. There’s not a lot you know about this movie, but popcorn is always a good idea, so you’re hoping it won’t be too disturbing, ruining your appetite. 

The CD is waiting for you inside the player, all you need to do is pad over your floor, sink down into the couch cushions and press play on your remote. 

You’ve already brushed off all other plans for the night, your friends scolding you for throwing your life away only to watch some mediocre movie to please Jungkook. “You’re a source of income, you buy everything from him.” 

Hah, bet they’ll be sorry when they hear you actually got this one for free. Mhm. Or maybe not. It’s been five years… it’s the least he could do. 

The timer dings. Yey, showtime. You open the microwave door, the warm and salty smell travels through the air and settles deep within you. You grab the paper bag, tearing it open with a quick tug. Now you’re ready. 

The cushions give in the moment your body meets the couch, and you immediately melt with them, sinking further and further down. You grab onto the soft, pink blanket that’s thrown carelessly over the armrest, and pull it over your body, letting yourself get incredibly comfortable. Although this ritual, watching a movie every Saturday, cozying up in your living room, is supposedly ‘me time’… you know deep inside you do this for him. Your friends are right, you do want his approval. So you’re hoping you’ll like this. Let’s watch, shall we?

You stretch your arm out, reaching for the remote control, and you press play. 

The screen stays black for a moment. No music, no production mark. Weird. You wait for a moment, resting your head back on the soft cushion behind you. Still nothing plays. Mhm, maybe he gave you an empty disk? Or maybe your TV is broken?

You’re about to press play again, wondering if you maybe hit a wrong button the first time… when your whole body freezes. 

The tape starts rolling, but it’s not Memento. Or, it possibly can’t be. That would be too bizarre. Because what plays on the screen is an amateur video… of Jungkook. Seemingly at home, staring straight into the camera, so close that his face blocks all surroundings. All you see is the concentration on his face as he fumbles with the record button, his eyes wide and searching. 

You chuckle. Cute, he misplaced the CD. But what’s not so cute is when Jungkook moves out of frame. 

Ho-ly-shit. 

Your jaw actually drops, your mouth hanging wide open as you take in what’s playing on the television before you. Jesus fucking christ. When Jungkook is out of sight, you realize the camera is placed in his bedroom, and the sight has you gasping for air, your hand flying to cover your mouth. Because on his bed, there lies a girl… in only her underwear. 

“Am I in the frame?” she asks gently, looking up at Jungkook who is still out of sight, her eyes doe-like and glistening. Pure seduction. 

“Mhm,” Jungkook hums, and finally he moves forward, ushering for her to move further down the bed to make room for him by her side. And you think you might actually cry when he’s back on camera. 

Walking into frame, the sight of him has your eyes widening, the hand covering your mouth slowly dragging down your chin. Leaving you gaping. 

Jungkook is completely naked. Butt-ass-naked. On camera. And fully erect, that is. He walks over to the bed, eyes locked with the girls’, his large hands hanging by his side. 

It’s not a modest sight. He looks absolutely insane. His shoulders broad, arms straining with veins and muscle, while his torso is rather lean, a small waist accompanied by a set of washboard abs. But that’s not really what steals your breath away. Because as he’s completely naked, your eyes immediately go to his abdomen. His hips are beautifully defined, his thighs chiseled and muscular, and his cock. Well, that’s just unfair. 

He’s huge when erect, thick and heavy, the tip of him a beautiful, deep red, and as he moves closer, you see the leaking precum that drips from him, running down his veiny shaft. 

You immediately pause the video, too stunned to do anything else, but that doesn’t really help as the still-frame of Jungkook’s heavy cock and deep, lust filled eyes continues to show on screen. So you turn the whole television off instead. 

The screen flatlines, and you’re left frozen on the couch. 

What on gods green earth did you just watch. And why the fuck did Jungkook give this to you. It has to be a mistake. He couldn’t possibly know he gave you this? It’s just a horrible fail, he misplaced the CD. Put it in the wrong cover. What the hell, you don’t even know how to make this sound reasonable. 

Your eyebrows have almost reached your hairline, and your mouth still hangs wide open. The popcorn by your side remains untouched. Because you just simply can’t bring yourself to indulge in a snack right now, as you think you might vomit. Not because you’re disgusted… it’s the other way around actually. What you just saw has you feeling dizzy, a low, curling sensation building low in your stomach… and that’s what you find disturbing. 

He probably never intended for anyone to ever see this, and here you are, on a Saturday, all snuggled up on your couch, watching his homemade porno. 

You can’t be doing this. Let’s stop here. Here, but no further. You inhale deeply, straightening your posture as your torso lifts slowly from the couch, resting your elbows on your knees. The curling pleasure in your stomach has turned into a deep and horrific realization that this is such an invasion of privacy that you should probably be locked up for good. Even though you never intended to watch this, you still did, and you feel evil. 

The black screen stares back at you. Your pulse thunders in your eardrums, you can practically hear your heart leaping out of your chest. As you reach for the remote, optioning to press ‘retract disk’, you stop. Something inside you stills. An evil thought forms. 

This is like the marshmallow test. A kid with an unlimited access to a big bowl of marshmallows, which is in your case a recording of Jungkook finding his own release. Okay. Dilemma. Do you stop here, tell him about the mistake, return the tape immediately. You should. You definitely should. 

Or do you continue? He won’t know just how much of it you saw…

You’ll obviously return it. Apologize. You check the small watch standing on the coffee table. It reads 7:32. The shop closes at eight. Okay. You have plenty of time. You just need to see what you’re dealing with here. Right? 

You’re evil. But it’s impossible, it’s like having a gold mine before you, no one to stop you, not a single person in sight telling you for the love of god, woman, get a grip. 

Your fingers curl around the remote… before you ultimately press ON — play — fast forward. 

The screen turns back on, the recording forwards in quick frames, and you shut one eye as if that blocks out your shame and guilt. You land on a still that seems inviting. The girl, on all fours, Jungkook propped up behind her. 

His hand comes up to his mouth. He sucks in his cheeks before spitting out a glob of saliva, moving his glistening fingers to the girl’s heat, which is perched in the air before him. Jungkook looks down at the view, gliding his fingers through her folds, immediately having her cry out with pleasure. 

“Sshhh, baby, not yet. Want you crying on my dick.”

You shudder at the sound of his voice through the crispy speaker, his tone teasing with a hint of frustration. Your lips press together as you watch him line himself up, the girl’s face crinkling before it falls forward, burying her head in the pillow. 

He thrust inside her with a grunt, his mouth falling open with a strained moan as he’s balls deep inside her. She whines a muted scream into the pillow, her fists clenching around the sheets. He’s probably too big for her. 

Jungkook chuckles at her pleasure-filled misery, starting out with deep and slow grinds before pounding into her. The sounds are wile, having you turn down the volume with embarrassment, afraid your neighbors might tune in. Your jaw is practically on the floor as you watch Jungkook’s facial expressions. He’s smiling. His eyebrows curl together on his forehead as he plunges forward, retreating shallowly just to snap his hips against her ass once again. 

Jesus. You press your legs together, trying to fight the obvious burn in your abdomen. Suddenly, your breath catches. 

Jungkook looks up from the view of his cock driving into the girl’s heat… and his eyes lock with yours. Well, not yours, but he stares back at the camera, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in and out. 

This just got increasingly more embarrassing. You’re indulging in something that feels very illegal here, so can he please look away? As if he’s watching you through the screen, your throat tightens. You can’t bring yourself to look away, it’s like a car crash. You can’t not stare at it. Your eyes flick from his face, to the way the muscles of his torso tighten with every snap of his hips. His palms run over the curve of her ass before it comes down to smack hard, causing her to tip her head back with a yelp. She’s so lost in pleasure that she can’t even talk. 

But he does… and your brain-activity cuts short. 

“Feel dirty?” 

Huh? You still at his words. 

He speaks again, grunts actually, “Filthy girl, wishing this was you.”

Oh my god. He’s talking to the viewer. He’s looking directly at the camera and speaking to you. Or whoever’s watching this. This was intended to be seen. Oh my god. Insert viewer porn. 

You’re very certain this wasn’t for you to see, but someone was in mind when making this. Jungkook’s fingers curl around her hips as he drives harder and harder and harder into her cunt, the sound of skin on skin almost blocking out his next words. 

“Wish it was my dick instead of your tiny, little fingers?” he growls, wincing as the girl wrapped around him clenches, milking him as he pounds into her. His words are stolen from him for just a second, before he bites down on his lips, continuing. “Still want you to cum for me, baby, want you to cum all over yourself.”

Help, you’ve probably fast-forwarded a bit too far into the tape, you didn’t know you were supposed to be touching yourself. Yeah, you won’t be doing that. It would just feel all too wrong. 

You shift a bit in your seat, breath hitching as you feel how sensitive you’ve grown to any form of friction that brushes against your body. Jesus, you should turn this off, it has gotten really strange. Jungkook keeps looking directly at the camera, and although his eyes show nothing but need and desire, you kind of feel as though you’re being judged. 

His moves turn frantic, and you realize the girl bent before him climaxes, screaming out, calling out his name in a row of desperate whines. This just fuels him to keep going, now forgetting all about the camera, his eyes darting down to her ass while his cock disappears inside her again and again and again. 

He’s about to come. Your eyes widen as you see his face turn flushed, the sounds he releases being nothing short of grunted whimpers, desperate to find his own release. It’s fucking overwhelming, watching as the girl goes limp before him, listening to the sinful yet beautiful noises he’s producing. 

Again you repeat here, but no further. 

The remote has been resting in your soft grip ever since you turned the TV back on, and with a subtle press of your thumb — the screen goes black. 

Okay. What you just saw might’ve just ruined your relationship on every level. You just electrocuted your tiny and insignificant bond, hoping it might spark something inside you. It did… but that only makes everything worse. And, sorry, are we just brushing over the fact that he’s making porn on his free time?

You’re quite overwhelmed, every forming thought being overpowered by another, more horrific one. But what you wish the strongest, is for this to just be a mistake. For you to be the idiot in this situation, sitting through about ten minutes of Jungkook’s sextape. Not for him to gift you this… knowing what’s on the disk, knowing you’re going home to watch him get his dick wet. That’s a whole other layer to this very weird scene that you don’t really want to take into consideration right now. 

All you know is that his shop closes in about twenty minutes, and you can’t let this tape marinade in your video player. You’re going to have to return it, and that is tonight. 

You feel like you’re about to melt with the snow that creaks underneath your boots. The CD-cover is buried in the pocket of your coat, burning its way into the fabric like some constant reminder of what an awful human being you are. 

You’ve already thought over the conversation. You are to tell him about the mix-up, apologize, and sadly never show your face again. The two of you have had a good run, but it’s over now. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to ‘casually’ rent a dvd from him every week when all you can picture is his face when he’s about to… jesus, let’s not even go there.

Why did you do it — why, why, why, you stupid meatball of a woman. Why did you have to let your curiosity get the best of you?

You can see him through the windows of the store as you cross the street. He’s alone (thank god), so it’ll be less humiliating for you to admit the horrible mishap. Your breath leaves in a fog as you exhale, your mouth shaping itself in an ‘o’ as you reach the glass door. You inspect Jungkook, who stands behind the counter with a pen perched between his fingertips as he notes down whatever on a piece of paper.

Let’s do this. It won’t be that awful. You’re a grown woman, you can own up to your mistakes.

“I’m sorry!” 

Jesus. The apology sort of just tumbles out of you as you push the door open, mingling with the overhead bell that notifies your arrival. You’re not sure if yelling out that you’re sorry is the best way to start this conversation, but it’s too late to take it back now. Even though you want nothing more than to grab the exclaim by its neck and shove it back down your throat. 

Jungkook’s gaze lifts along with his eyebrows, staring over at you as you stand covered in snow at his doorstep. It hits you that this is sort of similar to your first official meet, you drenched in bad weather at the door, Jungkook unbothered and dry behind the cashier. Oh how you miss those times, when you were just a girl with a stupid crush, blissfully unaware. Nostalgia will be the death of you. 

As you haven’t really gotten to the next part of your apology, Jungkook clears his throat, his eyebrows forming in a confused knot high on his forehead, “You’re sorry?”

“I’m sorry!” you repeat, fully entering his shop, hurrying over to Jungkook while leaving sad and wet little footprints behind you. It seems to amuse him that you’re completely out of breath and quite frankly horrified, as he tongues his cheek watching the way you rush over to him. You tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ears, ignoring the way your cheeks flush when fully exposed — even though it’s probably due to your mortification, you can brush it off as you going red by the cold.

You stop a few steps before the counter, chest heaving underneath your coat, and now that you’re here… you’ve forgotten your prepared monologue. What the hell, you know the basics of it. Let’s just give it a try.

“Euh—uh…” you stutter, now realizing you have no idea how to actually tell him this while looking him dead in the eyes. Hello, Jungkook, yes, it is true — I did in fact watch you pound away at some girl I don’t know. Yes, I could have turned it off, yes I realize that now. No, I don’t have any manners. 

Jungkook frowns before you. Maybe he’s wondering if you slipped on ice on your way over, if you maybe cracked your skull open and that small bits and pieces of your consciousness is slowly seeping out of you. He crosses his arms loosely and leans over the counter, resting on his forearms. “Ah, I see,” he teases, grinning at the way your mouth hangs open. 

This is getting more embarrassing by the minute. You try snapping out of it, putting one hand out in front of you, a flat palm. Okay here it goes. 

“You gave me the wrong tape.” 

Your shoulders slump the moment the words leave you, finally ridding you of the heavy burden. All you hope is that he might not ask about the tape, that he’ll take it back, maybe watch over it in private, realize his mistake and then not wonder why you’re not returning to his shop. 

Because you quite frankly can’t ever set foot in here after what you just watched, not when all you can picture is the way his eyebrows crease when the girl wrapped around him pulsates, spasms, sucking him dry. Fuck, it was beautiful, but oh so inappropriate. So wildly inappropriate.  You can’t ever see him the same way. Not that he was some virgin Mary before this, you’ve always known what kind of guy he was. But knowing he makes his own pornos just makes it absolutely impossible for you to keep your cool around him. 

Jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, letting your words sink in. The piercing catches between his teeth, making a small clicking sound that cuts right through the unbearable silence that fills his shop. Pursing his lips, examining you, he prepares to speak. “Mhm, did I?” 

“Yeah,” you say, taking another step forward. You fish out the CD-cover buried in your pocket, handing it to Jungkook once you’re close enough to reach him. He doesn’t grab for it, so instead you place it down on the counter, trying not to look at it. It’s just this little black, plastic item — something that has managed to ruin your life (or so it seems like). “I just—I’m sorry. I wanted to return it as fast as I could.” 

He stares at you for a moment before reaching for the tape, fingers curling around the plastic then picking it up. You’re kind of weirded out by this. He doesn’t ask any questions, nor does the contains of the tape you watched seem to matter to him. Instead, his eyes skim over the cover’s back for a second, before he puts it down again and shoves it out of sight. 

“That’s too bad, huh?” His eyes meet yours again, and you almost faint. There’s this sparkle in them, a flash of glisten that disappears the moment he blinks. His eyebrows raise just a tad on his forehead, giving him just a teeny tiny pleading look. Alright, this has to be intentional — he knows what effect he has on women. 

You can’t deal with him anymore. It was fine before, when it was just a stupid crush. But it’s slowly turning into something else, something shameful. You want him so bad that you could cry, because there is no way in hell he would ever lay a hand on a girl like you. And now you’ve seen all of him — every admirable inch of him. There’s no way you can keep him in your life without going insane. 

Your lips curl into a thin line, and just as you’re about to speak, Jungkook cuts you off. 

“Is there anything I could do for you?” 

Quite frankly, no. You just need to be left alone, honestly. Curl up underneath your covers and die of embarrassment and lust. So you shake your head, trying to get out of this shop as quickly as possible. You don’t want the actual movie you rented, you just wanted to return the faulted one and flee the crime scene. 

“No-no,” you say, waving a hand in front of you. “There really isn’t. Again, I’m sorry.” 

You haven’t told him what the CD contains, but he’ll find out eventually. And there is absolutely no way that you’ll be here when that time comes. You have to get out of here. This didn’t really go as planned, you apparently don’t have enough courage to own up to your mistake. But you’ve returned the tape nonetheless, so your mission is complete. 

You give Jungkook an almost believable smile, and prepare to walk off. Your feet are about to send you off, and you turn away from Jungkook, setting out on your journey to the door — when you feel a tug on your coat. 

Jungkook has wrapped his fingers in the soft fabric, tugging on your back, keeping you from leaving. Reaching for you over the counter.

Neither of you speak for a moment, you just still the moment you feel resistance. Your chest heaves, you have no idea what’s going on, why he’s holding you back. It’s almost like all the air in your lungs in ripped from you, and when you hear his voice, your knees almost buckle. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want me to do?”

You can’t see his face, but his voice is enough to send you over the edge. It’s a low purr, but you also detect some worry. He can’t possibly be that sorry for lending you the wrong tape. It would at least make him great with costumers, but it can’t just be that. Oh god. He can’t possibly know… can he?

“W-what?” you ask, still not turning to face him. You just stare straight ahead at the snow that falls outside the window, the glass door. And Jungkook’s hand stays knotted in your coat, making it impossible for you to move. 

“Come on…” he rasps, tugging you closer. Your feet stumble backwards, but you still don’t turn, honestly just because you don’t dare to. Looking him in his beautiful eyes right now might make you jump over that counter and fling your arms over his shoulders. So you stand still, your lower back meeting the edge of the counter. And after a while, after you’ve gotten used to the way Jungkook’s breath keeps brushing against the back of your head, he speaks again. “I know you like me.”

Mary mother of christ. There it is. He knows. Of course he knows — how could you be so stupid? You’ve been pining after him for almost a decade. How could he not know? 

Goosebumps bloom on the back of your neck and your breathing turns shallow. This can really only mean one thing. 

He didn’t give you the wrong tape. 

You slip from his hand, turning abruptly, looking at him with wide and frightened eyes. For some reason, you can’t control your breathing. Your chest moves in heaves, and every sentence you try forming in your head dies on its way out. His nostrils flare before you, and as if you’re not having a hard enough time breathing, Jungkook’s eyes roam over your body, taking in your state of shock. 

“Wha—what?” you repeat, still not sure any of this is real. Because how can it be. It’s straight out of a very weird and long porno. Fitting, given the tape he’s gifted you. 

“Look—I’m sorry about the video,” he starts, running stressed fingers through his hair. You’ve never seen him like this, it’s out of character for him to not be teasing or mocking you. But he’s allowed to be nervous, as he has just confirmed to renting you a porno of himself. That has to be some sort of felony. When he’s done messing up his hair, he places his hands flat on the counter, chuckling at his own words. “I just—I don’t know. Thought you needed a push.” 

“Needed a push?” You stick your neck out, baffled and not really sure if you just heard right. Was this an attempt to seduce you? In what messed up world would that work? “I’m sure you could’ve thought of some other way to wring the truth out of me.”

Jungkook shrugs, keeping his eyed glued to yours. “Sure. But I wanted you to see what I could do to you.” 

Your pulse drops, and it almost feels as if someone has spilled a bucket of ice water down your neck. Oh my god, this has to be some kind of joke. Maybe he’s recording this too, and that he might just be a very messed up guy. Because never in your twenty years of living would you have thought that Jeon Jungkook could ever come onto you. Especially not like this. 

For some reason, you can’t speak. But your face gets embarrassingly warm, your cheeks heating up and doing absolutely nothing to hide just how flustered you are. You try cooling it off, letting your knuckles meet the warm skin, not even caring how stupid it looks. 

“Also,” Jungkook tilts his head, smiling at you. You immediately avoid his eyes, looking down at his hands instead, the thick, silver ring that’s wrapped around his left thumb. He notices, bending a bit down trying to search for your eyes. “It’s fun making you blush like this.” 

“You’re—” you start, blushing even more when he points it out. Trying to recover some kind of bravery, you jerk your neck, flaring your nostrils. “This is insane behavior.”

“Romeo killed himself for Juliet—I would argue I’m not insane enough.”

You instantly frown, very taken aback by this absurd analogy. “Are you seriously comparing you giving me porn—your own porn—to Romeo and Juliet?”

“Yeah,” he says dead serious while straightening his posture. His eyes sparkle in your direction, and you gulp as you keep getting lost in them. He has apparently lost his damn mind… but it seems it might be because of you. That can’t be right. 

“I'm sorry—but are we just brushing over the fact that you make your own porn?” Your eyebrows crease so bad it's actually hurting, but you can't for the life of you understand what on earth is going on.

Jungkook scratches the back of his head. “It was—it's something I do for fun—sometimes!” he tries explaining, tumbling over his own words. “I'd never do that to you—I just thought giving you the tape might open your eyes. Show you what I bring to the table.”

What a crazy mindset. Also, you already know what he brings to the table — every girl in town knows. He could’ve just told you ‘hey, I like you’ and it probably wouldn’t have been as strange.

As you part your lips, preparing to speak, your words are ripped from you. Because the moment your words are about to leave you, Jungkook decides to move. He takes a step back from the counter, eyes never leaving you, and starts making his way around, fingertips tracing the flat surface. The veins on his forearm strain against his skin as he moves, as his arm stretches, follows where he goes. And in a matter of no time, he manages to snake around the counter and take his first steps towards you. 

There’s nothing else for you to do but tumble backwards, not knowing if its all because you’re trying to keep your distance from him or if it’s your brain subconsciously keeping you from making a stupid decision — keeping you from flinging yourself over Jungkook’s neck. 

“I swear I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he stresses, slowly walking towards you. “And I know it was a crazy gesture—but the thing is… I kinda am crazy about you.”

You stop in your tracks, letting him close up on you. Your throat clogs as you hear his confession, a row of words you’ve only encountered in your dreams. Maybe you’re dumb and naive, but you’ve been so insatiably in love with him for these past years that the thought of him maybe feeling the same way has your vision blurring. 

What snaps you back to reality is the tape, the way he spoke. How he carries himself, the fact that every girl in town has gotten a taste of him. He must be calculated. This isn’t a love confession — this is a damn ploy. 

“That’s not funny,” you say, nostrils flaring. 

He’s close enough to touch you now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stops before you, eyes skimming over your flushed face, moving from one eye to the other before settling on your lips for way too long. He takes a deep breath, one that has his shoulders lifting with the large intake. “I’m not trying to be funny, peach.” 

That fucking nickname. Just this once, you wish he might’ve been able to drop it… just this once. 

His fingers twitch with restraint at his sides, and his tongue brushes past his lips as his eyes are still fixed on your mouth. “If you think I’m just saying all this to win you over—do you really think I’d wait this long?” 

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter, and your voice comes out more strained than you hoped, almost like every word you’re trying to say hurts in your throat. 

One second passes, and without noticing at first, you see Jungkook’s hand lift. His palm comes to cup your cheek, his ring-covered thumb brushing against your warm skin. Your breathing comes out ragged, and your eyes flick over his face like a deer-caught-in-headlights. Trying to ease you, Jungkook brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, caressing your skin along the way. 

“That tape was just a snivel of what I’d do to you if you let me.” 

Oh god, maybe you’re in over your head here. You know you want this, that you want nothing less, but as you’ve established — Jungkook is crazy. And this might just be Jungkook’s brilliant way with words, but every single nerve in your body is tuned to him, and you find yourself glued to the floor, unable and not wanting to move. 

Just dive in without thinking. Allow yourself this indulgence. You never do anything fun, you never take any fucking risks. So just take the leap. 

You tip your chin up, better meeting his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Then what’s stopping you?” 

A small, devilish smile tugs on Jungkook’s lips, before they surge forward, colliding with yours without giving you a second to breathe. The metal in his mouth brushes against your bottom lip, the strength of his kiss urging for you to open your mouth for him, bare him your tongue. 

You do so without thinking, inviting him in, letting the wet muscle of his tongue roll against yours in an addictive dance, while his hand shoves your face harder against his. You’re on your tippy-toes now, stretching as far as possible to reach his mouth. He chuckles against your kiss, but not for long, not when he hears how your breathing has slowed and a small moan escapes you. Because it unfurls something in him, and soon enough his free hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

He groans at the feel of your thick coat against his chest, probably eager to rip it the fuck off, but trying to keep his cool nonetheless. It doesn’t work all that well. “Is it that cold out?”

His words aren’t teasing this time, he actually seems more furious. So you immediately find it funny, smiling still when he keeps kissing your stretched lips. “What, you don’t like my coat?” 

“Hate it, actually,” he purrs, nudging your face away with his forehead just so he can latch onto your neck. You shiver the moment his lips meet your jugular, the wetness of them sending sparks all the way to your fingertips. He licks and sucks as if to mark you, while the hand on your waist takes on a new road, coming to fiddle with the top button of your coat. 

You giggle as the button resists, catching in the soft fabric, refusing to give in. As Jungkook hears this, he retracts from your neck, straightening his posture to look at you with narrow eyes. 

“Oh, we’re laughing, are we?” He tilts his head, giving you just a teeny tiny smile that’s almost unnoticeable. His lips have gone slightly red, a bit swollen, giving him a disheveled look that’s enough for you to lose your damn mind. You pout, looking up at him with wide and unknowing eyes, trying to lure his lips back to yours, but instead you feel his hand move from your button. “Laugh, again—I dare you.”

In one easy motion both his hands grab ahold of the back of your thighs underneath the long coat, and without struggle he manages to lift you, wrapping you around his waist. Your breath hitches, the fabric of your coat rides up, and you instinctively fold your knees around his torso, steading yourself. And as the small breath of air leaves you, Jungkook swallows it with another kiss.

It's like you’re nothing in his arms with the way he so easily handles you. He manages to turn, walk further into the store, still lavishing you in openmouthed and wet kisses. Your arms have wrapped around his neck, and soon enough your fingers are tangled in his silky hair, brushing through the strands that form the rough mullet. Until you remember something crucial. 

“W-waitwaitwait—” you hiss against his lips, retracting to look him in the eyes. They haven’t gone heavy lidded like you’re used to when lathering boys in kisses, Jungkook’s eyes have actually doubled in size, it seems. He stares back at you with two black, glistening voids, wondering why you’re cutting his pleasure short. You raise your eyebrows, because the door remains unlocked. And you’re not so sure if you’re all that keen on going at it with Jungkook while someone could just simply walk in without restraint. “The door?”

Jungkook chuckles as he keeps moving both your bodies across the room, walking past shelves, different sections, until he stops for a second. “There’s another door here, peach.” 

And just like that, almost like it magically appeared with his words, he pushes open a door — already slightly ajar — with the tip of his boot, a door which seems to lead to the backroom. It’s filled with boxes, shelves. It’s just a mess, honestly. And without any further words, Jungkook turns the lock and walks to one of the shorter CD-shelves, propping you up on it. 

Your feet barely dangle above the floor, and you immediately miss the feel of his lips once he leaves you. Needy as you are, you reach for his shirt, trying to pull him back, but he stops you right away. 

“I’m gonna need that coat on the floor before anything else.” 

Fuck.

You were honestly hoping it wouldn’t come to this. Maybe that he would let you sleep with him fully dressed. 

It’s not because you’re self-conscious in any way, you’re actually quite proud of your figure. No, this is way worse. Because underneath your coat lies a dark secret: Your horrible sense of style when it comes to lounging around at home. 

To be honest, you thought you’d spend the night all alone. Well, it’s movie night, so you usually do spend it alone, on your couch, with soda stains on your chest. But you set out on a quest tonight — honestly just to return the tape and never see Jungkook again. You didn’t think he’d be undressing you by the end of the meet, so you didn’t bother to change your clothes… which now you realize was a grand mistake. 

You look up at Jungkook with wide and pleading eyes, “May the coat stay on?”

He just frowns in response before taking matters into own hands, lunging forward and shutting you up with a kiss so harsh your lips might bruise. Jungkook sucks down on your bottom lip, causing you to let out a soft moan in his mouth as he distracts you from the way he’s roughly tearing open your coat, not caring if the buttons rip at the seams. Suddenly, the coat hangs open, and with a begrudging lift of your hips, you let him slip it off your frame. 

Your hands come up to cup his neck, the hair that grows long there, forcing him to not look down. But he does anyways… and stops completely. 

His hands rest by your waist, and his eyes roam over your body, eyebrows creasing with something that might read as disgust, or maybe just utter confusion. 

“What the hell are you wearing?” he scoffs, skimming over your outfit. Rightfully so, because what the hell are you wearing? 

It’s embarrassing, but it’s comfortable. And you don’t care if you stain it. You tread it over your body the minute you get home, you always make sure to wash it before going to bed just so you’ll be able to wear it again the day after. We are of course speaking of your Snoopy-suit. 

Weird name, yes, but there’s no other way to describe it. Because it is a Snoopy-suit. A white sweater with tiny nightgown-Snoopy-figurines all over, everywhere, no inch left uncovered — with a pair of matching sweatpants. The text on your chest reads ‘Sleepy Snoops’. We won’t even get into what’s written on your ass.

You part your lips, but no sound comes out, which has Jungkook frowning ugly in front of you. With minimal strength, you shove at his chest. It does little, as he comes right back again, leaning forward while his palms rest on either side of you down on the shelf’s surface. The veins in his forearms pop as he rests his weight on them. 

“Wha—well I didn’t think I’d be stripping when I got here!” You try defending yourself, but realize it still doesn’t answer Jungkook’s question. Because you quite frankly have no idea what it is that you’re wearing. Thankfully, Jungkook latches onto your words instead of keeping his attention glued to your outfit. 

“You so did,” he chuckles, planting a soft kiss on your temple. 

You keep trying to defend yourself while his kisses continue. “I didn’t!”

“Yeah-yeah, okay—I can’t have you wearing that, though.” He starts by letting one hand brush over your thighs, a move that immediately sends shivers down your spine and all the way to your cervix. Jesus, he must be a sorcerer. The hand keeps moving, fingers brushing underneath the hem of your sweater, lifting it slowly while still kissing you, lips moving down your neck, biting down on your skin as his fingers meets your stomach. 

Eager to strip out of this god-awful outfit, you help him, reaching for the hem of your sweatshirt and giving it a quick tug. Jungkook’s hand replaces yours, and he lifts the fabric off your body, over your head, over your lifted arms, until it falls completely off and is thrown forgotten to the floor alongside your coat. 

The moment you’re bared to him, he chuckles against your skin, pleased to know you’re not wearing a bra. His hand which is not holding onto your waist comes to cup one of your soft breasts, rolling it in his palm where it fits so perfectly. 

You mewl underneath his touch, back arching instinctively as he keeps kneading your breast with his warm palm. He steps in between your parted knees, the hand on your waist pulling you further into him, and the moment you meet his hips, you let out a breathy moan. 

He’s straining against his jeans, a bulge so big it still surprises you, even though you’ve already seen all of him. You’ve seen every vein, every inch — just not up close. And the anticipation is killing you. 

“Take the sweatpants off,” he breathes against your neck, now starting to move lower, kissing your collarbone, your chest, before his lips meet the gentle curve of your breast — the one not trapped in his palm. 

In a hurried motion, your fingers find your waistband, and you rip the soft fabric off, lifting your hips and wiggling out of the pants, kicking off your boots along with the legs of your sweats. Thankfully, your panties aren’t atrocious as well, just a simple, white lace that you’re hoping to be rid of soon enough.

Jungkook grinds into you the second you lose the pants, breathing roughly against your skin when he feels your bare figure hug his frame the moment his hips roll forwards. His mouth moves lower, and after giving your already hard nipple a soft lick, he closes his mouth around it to suck down on it. The hand on your breast gives your skin a deep knead before brushing lower, letting his fingers play with the waistband of your panties, snapping the band against your hip. 

“Kook—please,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head when Jungkook’s tongue starts circling your nipple, flicking over the nub, coating it in his spit. “Don’t hold back with me.” 

He groans against you, running the tip of his tongue back and forth over your hard nipple, “Couldn’t even if I wanted to.” 

His fingers move from the waistband, and in a motion so sudden his palm cups your wetness, squeezing tight, feeling how you’re dripping through the lace fabric. Your breath hitches, and your head lolls back as the friction of his hand cupped so tightly against your clothed cunt. Chasing his touch, your hips buck forward, a move which steals a hummed laughter from him. 

Your completely soaked through. There’s no inch of lace left untouched by your wetness, and the fabric clings to you like a second skin. You’re so wet it almost embarrassing, and every squeeze Jungkook’s large palm bestows upon you has you gasping for air. 

He sucks down on your nipple, releasing it with a slick pop. “Fuck, you’re soaked through,” he almost whispers, his breath against your breast sending sparks through your body. 

“Mm-hm,” you hum in agreement, a needy sound you try repressing as you bite down on your bottom lip. But it doesn’t work that well, especially not when Jungkook runs a single finger all the way from your core to your clit, which both are spasming underneath the drenched lace. Your forehead drops to Jungkook’s shoulder for some kind of support, but suddenly the surface is removed. Because Jungkook has taken on a new path. 

Tracing your bare torso in wet kisses, he makes his way down, both hands now coming to tug on the waistband of your panties, ripping it of in one go with the help of a compliant lift of your hips. 

“Have been dreaming of this,” he purrs, “… for so fucking long.”

His palms slowly spread your knees apart, thumbs pressing into the supple skin of your inner thigs, and you feel it like a pulse in your core. You almost can’t think straight, seeing him on his knees between your legs. Although he might be teasing — you actually have been dreaming of this. And now that it’s finally happening, every nerve in your body feels ignited. 

As you let out a small whimper, Jungkook’s eyes flick up, catching yours from between your legs, and you swear your lungs collapse when he smirks, so slight it’s nearly imperceptible. 

Still keeping eye contact, his knuckles brush the slick that’s already coating your folds. Your eyebrows crease at the touch, and your mouth falls open without letting any sound release, just a row of desperate breaths. He lets his fingers stretch, the pads of them trailing down your slit, feeling the way your juices cling to him. It’s a sight he can’t keep away from. 

His eyes dart down, now fixed on the sight of you bare and dripping. The way your clit pulsates, begging and needing to be touched. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Look at you.” 

You’re too wet to be embarrassed, to fucking wrecked from the anticipation to be coy or smart. All you want is to audibly beg for him, but you still have some pride you’re hoping to keep intact. You’ll fuck him in the backroom of his shop, alright — but you’re not begging. Well, not yet, at least. 

There’s apparently no need for you to beg this time, as the next thing you feel is Jungkook’s mouth pressing a kiss on your parted lips, right to your clit. 

You immediately jolt forwards, the feel of his lips so unreal that stars start dancing in your vision. But he holds you back with his palms, and with a low rumble, he darts his tongue out, dragging an experimental lick through your folds. He parts them with ease, his tongue flat and broad, starting from the bottom and gliding all the way up to your clit. Your thighs shudder, but he still doesn’t let you move. His arms snake around your legs, pinning you down and locking you open for him. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he purrs in between licks, the tip of his tongue circling your clit, flicking over it once or twice to feel the way your twitch in his grip. You throw your head back, a moan ripping from your throat as his sucks your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with obscene precision. The suction is gentle, at first, just enough to have your back arching and your fingers flying into his soft hair. 

You feel the piercing in his lip move as he shifts, the cool of it slipping through your folds when he sucks down harder, tearing uncontrollable whines from you. Easing you after the harsh suction, he presses his tongue flat against your clit and rolls it, slow and so incredibly fucking skilled. 

“Oh fuck—fuck, Jungkook—”

He only groans in response, the vibration of it traveling through your entire body. When he shifts his mouth again, you think you might black out. He locks eyes with you, his black marbles staring back up at you as a sly smile appears on his face. His tongue rapidly flicks up and down your clit, and just when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head, he delves down wrap his lips around the nub, sucking tightly at it. 

You can’t see shit. You don’t know if it’s your eyes who have retreated to your skull, or if it’s your vision blurring due to the intense pleasure — whatever it is, it’s too damn good to care about right now. And with the way he chuckles against your cunt, you bet your ass he’s watching your every reaction. 

Because he loves it, he drinks it in. Every moan, every twitch of your hips, every grip of your fingers in his hair — he can’t get enough of it. Especially when he retracts, licking a fat stripe over your pulsating clit, and you let out a breathy whine, desperate for the orgasm he just teased you with.

Unapologetic and lost in deep pleasure, you look back down at him, eyebrows lifting and eyes widening. “I loved the tape you gave me,” you breathe, tugging gently on his hair. 

“Yeah?” He smiles against your wetness, locking eyes with you as his licks turn slow and torturous. His lips have gone all shiny, his chin too, probably, although you can’t see it. 

A smile tugs on your lips, and you nod, slowly starting to roll your hips against him, following the movement of his tongue. “Yeah,” you purr, your eyes fluttering shut every time Jungkook’s flat tongue moves over the most sensitive spot of your clit. “Loved seeing you. Your arms, your thighs, your dick.” 

Your words come out breathy and seductive, egging him on. It works immediately, as he seals his lips around your clit, sucking down while his tongue messily laps over the nub. His spit and your slick mix together in a thick liquid that coats both him and your thighs, running down to the slit that parts your cheeks.

“Anything else?” He lets up from his sucking as his tongue explores you more deeply, slipping down to your entrance, circling it before slowly pushing inside. 

Your entire body jerks. “Ah—yes!”

He starts shamelessly fucking you with his tongue in low, deep strokes, his nose pressed against your clit, his grip on your thighs tightening as you writhe against his face. 

“I wished it was me—so bad Kook.” The words roll of your tongue, and you ramble mindlessly as his tongue curls inside you, his nose rubbing tightly over your clit. “Wished you’d fuck me just like that—fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He loves the sound of your breathy praise, loves the way you keep spasming whenever he hits the sweet-spot buried deep inside you. He knows exactly what it is you need. So he pulls his tongue out, licks his way back up and circles your clit again — but this time, his fingers join in. 

You’re so wet and pliant you almost don’t notice them at first, but when he goes deeper, your eyes widen. There’s two of them, thick and lock, who push inside you so smoothly that your mouth drops open, a broken sound escaping you before you can stop it. His mouth doesn’t let up during the intrusion, his tongue flicks fast over your clit as his fingers curl inside you, exactly where you crave pleasure the most. Your walls pulsate around his digits the moment he teases the spot.

“Ah—fuck, right there—oh my god—” you pant, eyelids fluttering shut as he keeps stroking in rhythmic pulses, his mouth never leaving your clit. The combination is unbearable, and your hips involuntarily rock into his touch. You tug on his hair, pull him closer, and you feel the pleasure in your stomach starting to knot together. “Oh my god, Kook—I’m so close—”

Jungkook flicks his tongue faster, circles your clit tighter, until your vision wipes out, until your legs are shaking around his shoulders, your orgasm building so fiercely you can almost taste blood. 

No one has ever known their way around your body this way, and you thank god for his previous experience, because with the way he’s working you over right now — there’s nothing else for you to do. His long fingers keep curling inside you, not even caring about the fact that your juices run down his palm, his wrist, coating his forearm. He instead hums in appreciation against your clit, wrapping his lips around it, his lip ring slipping inside your glistening folds, and he sucks down viscously on your clit like a starved animal. 

“Fuck—Kook, I’m cu—” is all you’re able to get out before your orgasm hits you. Your legs quiver, your whole body breaks open against his mouth, your head lolls back and you cry out. You grind against his face because you simply can’t not, because you need him deeper, everywhere, you’re actually losing your mind in this orgasm. And Jungkook eats it up, literally. He moans into your climax, tongue lapping ever drop of arousal, fingers starting to pump in and out of you, meeting every grind of your hip. 

Even when your thighs begin to twitch in overstimulation, he doesn’t stop. He slows, of course, but he stays, licking lazy strokes over your cunt as if he’s cleaning up his mess. And under his touch, your body is melting. You actually feel boneless, a trembling mess — who has also seemingly made a mess out of the boy between your legs. 

His hair is a mess from your hands, his lips have gone red, swollen and shiny, and his chest heaves like he’s the one who just came. And when he feels you starting to tug harder on his hair, trying to pry him off your body, he lets up, giving a final peck to your clit. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hands, eyes never leaving yours. It doesn’t really help, his lips are still a wet mess, a mess he doesn’t seem to bother. His tongue darts out again, brushing over his lower lip, savoring the taste of you. 

“Voila,” he jokes, bracing his hands on his thighs as his posture straightens. 

You don’t even care that he’s being a cocky asshole now, all you want is for him to rid himself of those god damn clothes. It’s all you can think of when your vision comes back — how he’s still covered. How the tight tee he’s wearing hides his glorious figure from you, how his pants cage in the length and width of his. A cock so big your mouth is already watering. 

Your voice comes out softer and a bit more embarrassing than you expect, “C-can you… take it off?”

Jungkook tilts his head, eyebrows lifting, being a little shit. “Take what off?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, eyes darting toward his still clothed body, toward the heavy bulge that’s straining visibly through the dark denim. Jungkook grins viciously when he notices your lingering and hopeful grin.

“Everything?” he asks, still in that oblivious and teasing tone that weirdly enough turns you on so much that a new wave of arousal seeps from you. You instinctively press your knees together, suddenly a bit self-conscious about being the only one butt-naked here. So you nod, shyly, letting him know you do want him to take everything off. 

His hands move immediately, but his breath hitches and his mouth opens in a wide gape. Of course, teasing you. “Such a forward young girl,” he says as if he’s affronted by your demand. You just roll your eyes at him, even though you’re screaming internally.

He rises to his feet, towering over you with a frame so broad you gulp, his shoulders squared, hair falling into his eyes as he glances down at you with hunger. Eyes never leaving you, his fingers start moving to the hem of his tee. And it’s torture, the way he peels it off, revealing himself inch by inch. The fabric clings to his back as he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. 

Jesus fucking christ, it’s even better up close. A camera can’t possibly do such a man justice, the way he looks as if he’s sculpted by the gods. Sharp collarbones, thick chest, deep dips between every line of muscle, and somehow a lean waist. Unfair is what it is. And his inked up left arm is just too stunning, the way the tattoos curl around his biceps, his veins. Unfair.

Your gaze traces his torso, licking your lips subconsciously. 

“Like what you see?” he asks, extremely cocky. 

“Shush,” you say as you shake your head, hoping to might snap out of the weird horned up trance he has you in by just removing his tee. 

He chuckles, dragging one hand down over his own stomach, flexing his abs. “Not something I usually show the customers. You’re getting some real special treatment here, peach.”

“I somehow don’t believe that,” you frown, trying your hardest not to laugh when he grunts, flexing even harder. He might be ridiculously hot, but he still can’t escape the idiocy that comes with being a boy. 

His mouth opens, gape widens, and his eyebrows crease. “Are you slut-shaming me?”

“I so am.” You brace your hands on either side of your body, leaning backwards, stretching subtly before him. Gloating in the way he’s undressing before you. Because next go his boots. He tows them off one at a time and they land somewhere far off in the small room. Then go the jeans. 

The second the belt is out from its loops, your stomach flips. He pops the button, drags the zipper down, and your mouth dries when he peels them off. The denim clings to his thighs, and you see now just how thick they are. His legs are strong, dense with muscle, strength that only comes from real, physical work — carrying boxes, lifting crates, whatnot. He can maybe add ‘carrying you around’ to that list, if he wants, of course. 

Now, there’s only one barrier left between you and every inch of him. His black boxer-briefs. And what’s underneath them is already impossible to ignore. 

He’s hard, so hard, straining against the fabric, the outline of his cock bulging beneath the waistband. Long and thick, his girth alone has your core clenching in anticipation. You saw him in the self-tape, of course, you know he’s big already. But knowing he’ll bestow the length upon you feels like you’re maybe in way over your head. The tip of him presses against the cotton, and there’s a darkened spot where he’s already leaking. 

Jungkook giggles (weirdly enough) at the way you swallow hard before him, and jerks his head to the side. “Three—two—one.”

He actually counts down the big reveal, hooking his thumbs under the waistband and dragging the fabric down. 

Your jaw almost reaches the floor. 

Jungkook springs free flushed, veiny and think in a way that’s almost greedy. The head of him is swollen and red, glistening and leaking at the tip, and you feel drool trying to make its way down your chin. You shut your mouth immediately, but you take a big breath in through your nose. He’s absolutely, obesely big. This can’t be good for neither you or him. 

Upon seeing you so baffled, he chuckles low in his chest, stroking himself once from base to tip — just for you to watch, and for him to see your reaction. “You said you didn’t want me to hold back, right?” 

Your thighs squeeze together and part your lips, “Uhm.” God you’re an idiot. Uhm? Well, your reaction is kind of fair, you didn’t expect him to be this absurdly big. But maybe you’ll grow accustomed to him, to his size. You pray to god that you will, because you’re not backing out now. “Right—right. I’m ready.” 

He lets out a chuckle and steps in close, close enough that your knees part for him again, close enough that his cologne and body scent wraps around you like a second skin. He leans forward until his hands land on either side of you, palms flat against the shelf. 

You’re caged in. His arms bracket you completely, veins standing out along his forearms, sleeve tattoo stretching and flexing as his weight settles in. There’s nowhere for you to go — not that there’s anywhere else in the world you’d like to be right now. You could absurdly enough die happily in this position, naked underneath the eyes of equally naked Jungkook. His face is inches away from yours, breath warm, eyes glistening as they flick between your eyes, mouth, chest. 

“Need another countdown?” he asks as he leans in, softly kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear. 

You shudder, eyes fluttering shut. But still — please don’t count down. It was weird enough the first time. “Rather not,” you giggle, wiggling away from his kisses as they start to tingle. This only eggs Jungkook on more, resulting in him blowing air behind your ear, biting down on your skin, humming in appreciation as you try shoving him away. “Stop Kook, it tickles—oh—”

Oh. It was a distraction. 

Because suddenly you feel him… all of him, pressing heavy against you. He shifts his hip as he feels you still completely, and drags the length of him upwards, through your folds, coating himself in your slick. 

“Shiit, you’re so soft.” Jungkook’s voice is no more than a whisper, speaking directly into your ear before biting down on your earlobe. One of his hands come to rest on your thigh, squeezing the supple flesh there, as his other hand moves between you to grab himself — guiding himself as he drag his cock upwards to circle your clit with his heavy tip. 

You gasp, and your head falls to Jungkook’s shoulder. It’s obscene how sensitive you are, how easily your body reacts to him. You’re still slick from his mouth, and the slide of him against your soaked cunt has you toes curling instantly. 

Jungkook groans under his breath, retracting from your neck to watch how you drip all over him, how his cock slips so easily through you, how the head of him catches at your clit and makes you tremble. “Fuck—looks so pretty.” The thick length of him glides through you from bottom to top, the head pressing against your clit, guiding his leaking tip just right, flicking it up and down your spasming nub that crowns your mound in torturous drags. 

“Oh—” your breath stutters and your hips jolt forward, hands snaking around his frame to drag your long fingernails down his back, hard enough to make him hiss. As your head falls back, Jungkook lets the hand on your thigh move to your neck, and he presses your mouth against his. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you melt into it immediately, lips parting, moaning softly when you feel his cock glide through you yet again. 

He doesn’t push inside you, he just drags himself through your slick over and over again. Each pass is wonderful, the head of his cock nudges your clit, circles it, presses into it to hear how you whine into his mouth. The size of him is impossible to ignore. He’s so heavy, so thick, that you’re starting to worry about how on earth he’s going to fit inside you.

You lift your arms and tug at his hair, fingers curling into his soft strands. “You f-feel—ah—so good.”

Upon hearing your praise, he chuckles softly and kisses you harder, pushing to tighter against his lips. His tongue strokes slow, his open mouth steals every sound you make, swallowing your moans while his cock continues its relentless pass through your folds. 

You’re soaking him, his cock slipping as it reaches your clit again, involuntarily flicking over your clit as you're so wet his cock can't even keep a straight path. You feel yourself pulsing around nothing, clenching with the hope that he’ll soon fill you, that he’ll soon give you exactly what you want. And as you start growing impatient, tugging harder on his hair — Jungkook starts to play with you. 

He nudges your clit side to side, the hand wrapped around his own length guiding his cock precisely where you’re spasming. New waves of arousal leak from you, mixing with the pearls of precum that continues to run down Jungkook’s shaft. With a gasp, you break from the kiss, feeling your legs starting to shake and the coiling pleasure low in your belly building by the second. “N-no more—”

“Fuuck, but—” he breathes out a low growl, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Feel how hard I am for you, peach.”

His hips roll forward, his own hand making sure he slips perfectly though your folds. He flattens the length of him against your slick heat, and when you feel him twitch, when you feel just how close he is himself, a sharp pulse travels straight through your core. Your hands slide down his back, nails digging into his skin, your whole body arching up into him. You can’t take it anymore — he has teased you for long enough. All you want is for him to fill you so good, to actually split you in half, all you want is for him to make you cry in overwhelming pleasure. 

“I could probably cum like this,” Jungkook rasps, still resting against your shoulder. You feel his eyes flutter shut, his eyelashes tingling against your skin. He lets out a deep breath, and actually whines when he presses one last, heavy glide through your folds. As he reaches your clit again, he lingers there, circling thrice until your nails scrape harshly along his back, until your back arches and all you’re able to do is moan his name. He chuckles, although there’s absolutely nothing funny right now, “I bet you could too.”

Well, apparently you’re not allowed to, as his hands find your hips in a sudden motion. Before you can fully catch your breath, let out one last moan, he’s lifting you off the bench, pressing your body flush to him. All the while his cock is still nuzzled between your folds. 

The change of scenery has you gasping for air, arms flinging over his shoulders and legs wrapping tightly around his slender waist. You try balancing yourself, although there seems to be no need as Jungkook doesn’t falter. It doesn’t look like the lift strains him, he doesn’t even blink. He just holds you like you weigh nothing, easily hopping with you in his arms, making you whimper as his cock once again presses against your clit. 

“I don’t know if it’s you that’s light as fuck—or if I’m just stupidly strong,” Jungkook laughs, and there’s a grin tucked into the corner of his mouth, a grin you kind of want to wipe right off his face, no matter how much you want him right now.

He turns with you cradled against him, your bare chest pressed to his, and he walks the two of you a few feet across the backroom, his bare feet making duck-like waddling sounds against the concrete floor. As sensual as this is supposed to be, you giggle, kissing his cheek for the first time. And oh my god. They’re so incredibly soft. They swell up when he smiles, grinning as you continue pressing tiny pecks all over both his cheeks. 

“I’m about to fuck you dense and you’re babying me?” 

You continue smothering him in kisses, not caring if his words actually kind of frighten you… because how much denser could you possibly become after this? The thought doesn’t stick for long, as you’re suddenly being pinned back against one of the tall VHS-shelves. It’s cold against your spine, and you gasp as the wood presses harshly against your skin.

And yet again — you’re caged in. Oh no… you’re trapped beneath Jeon Jungkook, his body flush against you, the hard line of his cock now pressed hot between your legs… oh no, how awful.

You’re still dripping for him, and you swear you can feel your slick smear across his skin as he shifts. Because he leans in, his mouth immediately latching onto your neck again. And as his mouth works you over, he slowly puts you down, without any tremble in his arms, without any struggle whatsoever, until your bare feet meet the floor. 

At this height, you have to get on your tip-toes if you want Jungkook to continue his kisses down your neck — so you do. You lift your heels off the floor and invite his mouth, his mouth which softly presses just beneath your ear. He drags his lips down the line of your throat until you’re tilting your head back to give him more. But then his mouth opens, and he starts sucking, tongue and teeth coming into play as he bruises the skin above your collarbone.

You inhale a soft gasp or moan, you have no idea, and you subconsciously arch your back off the shelf, your hips nudging against his abdomen.

He groans against your skin, and shifts his grip, suddenly losing all the strength he has used to hold himself back. His tattooed arm slides under your thigh, lifting one leg up and hooking it over his forearm. The stretch of it opens you up for him completely, your core exposed, flushed and needy. He reaches between your bodies with his other hand, wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, and lines himself up.

“Ah—Kook.” Your stomach flips, and your nails drag against his shoulders. 

The head of him is nestled right at your entrance, obscenely thick, already slick from both the teasing from earlier and the precum that leaks from him. Just the feel of him has your walls fluttering for him, begging shamelessly. “Split me open.”

He groans against your neck, a guttural sound that comes from hearing you plead so submissively, wanting him to tear you apart with the width and length of his cock. Lifting his mouth from you skin, he looks down at where his cock presses into you, circling your swollen entrance with a sick grin on his face. The deep red of him disappears so beautifully inside you, causing your head to loll back in pleasure-pain. As his tip retracts from you again, your walls clench around nothing, and you breathe out his name, making Jungkook look up at you, lock his eyes with yours.

“Hold onto me,” is all he says, before slowly pushing into you — agonizingly slow.

Your breath stills in your lungs the moment the thick crown of his cock starts to breach you, stretching your entrance around him. The pressure is immediate, he’s so big that your muscles clench without permission, trying to accommodate him. But you arch your back further off the shelf, shoving yourself further onto his cock as he’s still not even halfway through yet. 

“Fuuck,” he grits with his jaw clenched, eyebrows knotted, eyes locked on where your bodies melt togheter. “You’re so tight—jesus.” He only sinks in an inch more, and still, your breath hitches like it’s being pulled from the base of your spine. You might’ve asked for him to split you open, but now that he actually might, your vision blurs and your mouth falls open.

His hand slips from your thigh to your hip, and he uses the hold to pull you down, just a little, just enough to sink another inch into you — then he holds you there. He pants like a madman, almost going cross-eyed from the unbelievable tightness of your heat, the way you already clench and pulsate around his cock, so un-accustomed to the width of him. 

“Shit—okay, ready?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. They’ve gone completely dark now, swallowed by his black pupils, and there’s a strange, pleading look to him. You’ve never seen this in him, the way his eyebrows crease high on his forehead, the way he nods at you for permission. It sends a wave of pleasure through you, and your walls start fluttering uncontrollably around him, causing his head to tip back, his lips to part as soft gasps leave him. 

You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding back at him. “R-ready when you are.”

The second your breathy confirmation slips past your lips, he exhales something between a moan and a curse and begins pushing in again, torturous inch by inch. The drag of his cock through your walls has your mouth falling open, head thumping softly against the shelf behind you. Because you finally feel every part of him, every thick ridge, every beautiful vein as he opens you in a way that’s probably going to ruin you forever. 

Your eyes squeeze shut when he sinks deeper, but Jungkook’s threaded voice pulls them open again. “Eyes on me,” he pants, cupping your jaw his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he holds your face. “Wanna see your pretty face when I’m bottomed out.” 

Who the hell would say no to that? Probably someone who haven’t laid their eyes on Jungkook and his eyes which are so big you could easily get lost in them, even though you’ve spent years mapping them out. 

So you watch him closely, watch the strain in his expression as he slowly feeds you more of his cock, his brows tights and his lips parted. You feel the tremble in his thigh, the flex of his arm beneath your leg, how even he is fighting to stay in control. He’s all flushed muscle and restraint, every inch of his body working to not wreck you… yet. He’ll get to it, don’t you worry. 

But as of now, he keeps sinking deeper into you — and it feels fucking endless, the stretch so incredibly slow and agonizing that you might decent into madness soon. By the time he’s nearly fully inside you, your legs start shaking, your nails carving half-moons into his inked shoulder. “K-kook—” you pant, the snug fit of him starting to ache inside you. “You have to move.”

It surprises you when he moans loudly, shuddering against you while holding eye contact — something so extremely attractive that you almost come undone right then and there. He pants wildly, groaning as he tries entering you fully. “Almost there,” he whines, eyes glued to yours.

And then finally, finally, his hips press flush to yours. He bottoms completely out, something that has the two of you moaning out loudly in the small backroom. 

His head falls to your shoulder, and you feel his sweat drip down from his forehead and onto your collarbone. You moan out yet again at the fullness, the way he presses impossibly deep, stealing all the air from your lungs. He stays still, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust, letting your walls pulse and quiver around him as he breathes heavily into the crook of your neck. 

“Fucking fuck,” he mutters against your skin. His next words have him sounding like he’s in disbelief. “I’m actually gonna split you in half.”

You nod as your head lolls back, feeling stretched to the edge of your limits, but somehow you’re burning for him, needing more from him. Because he doesn’t move yet, he savors the way your body molds around him, his nose nudging your neck as his lips brushes over your skin with shaky exhales. And he prepares himself to pull out. 

When he does, it’s only an inch, but he thrusts right back in with a quiet growl, grinding his hips into yours — his abdomen rubbing beautifully against your clit. You whimper, back arching as the motion drags along your inner walls. And just like this, the head of him nudges at the sweet spot buried deep inside you, causing your moans to die in your throat and your core to clench around his cock.

“Found it on the first fucking try,” he chuckles, biting down on the soft skin of your shoulder when your spasming tries milking him for every drop he’s got. “Shit, just like that.”

You’re barely able to find your voice as he’s pressed heavily against your g-spot. “K-kook—more please—”

He needs no more encouragement, because as the words leave you, Jungkook starts setting a rhythm. It starts out slow, letting you feel all his girth with every stroke. His cock drags out of you almost completely before sliding back in, every inch punching a moan out of both your lungs. You’re equally lost in pleasure, him panting against your neck, you melting with the shelf. 

His arm trembles beneath your thigh, and as he breathes out a quick breath, he decides to pick up the pace. 

“Yes, r-right there—oh my god,” you ramble mindlessly as his thrusts grow sharper. You can hear the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking into you, your slick coating him, dripping down both your thighs. The shelf behind you shakes with every thrust, VHS tapes toppling onto the floor, forgotten as the two of you moan uncontrollably with pleasure.

You’re a fucking mess — crying out over his shoulder, your body bouncing with every stroke, and he’s right there with you, his voice raw in your ear. “It’s good we didn’t do this earlier,” he grunts, his nose scrunching with every rapid thrust. “I’d be doing this all day—and you’d be fucking limp by now.”

The hand on your hip snakes between your bodies, and somehow he finds your clit even without looking. Two of his fingers press against you, working tight circles against the swollen bundle of nerves, slick from your arousal, his mouth brushing the edge of your jaw as his cock drives rapidly inside you. It’s almost animalistic, the way he’s handling you, the sounds he produces, the sounds of his hips slamming into you and the wetness that coats his dick. You’re being taken apart in degrees.

You can fucking feel him in your ribs, if that’s even possible, the weight of him in your belly — and all of it is spiraling higher and higher with every pass of his fingers over your clit. It doesn’t help that you feel your tits pressing so tightly against his plump and delicious chest, that you feel him kissing your throat, open-mouthed and desperate, licking and sucking on your skin. You’re being stimulated at every end, and it feels like you’re about to light on fire.

“Yes—yes—yes—god yes—” The words coming out of you just fall off your tongue as your mind is clouded, thinking about nothing but the feel of his cock against your g-spot and his fingers rubbing your clit. You’ve been teased for so long that you’ve entered a strange, delirious state, not even caring about how desperate and needy you sound. “Fuck me just like that, Jungkook—ah—oh god—”

You cry out, choking on your words as his cock slams into you, the unbearable length of him punching into the spot that makes your vision go white. 

“Shit—you’re gonna cum,” Jungkook grits out against your collarbone, almost as if it’s a revelation. His hand on your clit moves in sloppy motions, because he’s simply just trying to push you over the edge, pinching the swollen bundle of nerves between two fingers, rubbing lazily over it. “Holy f-fuuck, yeah—fucking soak me.”

It’s like you’ve entered the gates of heaven, or something in the likes of it — because you never knew such pleasure could ever exist. His cock hits your sweet spot so perfectly with every erratic thrust, his fingers working you open like your release is the only thing Jungkook wants right now… which it kind of is. 

So who are you to hold back? 

The coiling pleasure in your stomach is almost overbearing now, and you can’t seem to produce any words, just sound, just breathy moans that Jungkook immediately swallow with a deep kiss. When he rolls his tongue into your mouth, you almost choke, unprepared for the sensation. You taste the sweat that’s dripping from his upper lip, and somehow it’s enough to send you over the edge.

“Oh my god—I’m cumming—oh my god, Jungkook—don’t stop—”

You clench and pulsate viciously around his cock, gasping for air as the euphoria of your orgasm takes ahold of you and causes your vision to wipe out. Your hands move to his hair, tugging on the dark and sweaty strands as he continues to fuck himself into you again and again and again. It’s absolutely unbearable, right as your orgasm hits you, you somehow lose your consciousness. Your thighs start trembling uncontrollably, the shake so extreme that the leg which is not help up in his arms actually gives out, completely overpowered by his size and speed. 

“Oh fuck—” Jungkook immediately hooks your limp leg over his arm, holding onto your ass, trying to keep you upright. He repositions, lifting you with a tiny hop, his arms wrapping around you, one right around your waist, the other in between your shoulder blades, pressing your dead body flush against him. His cock is still buried deep inside you, and his thrusts slow down, reaching deeper and deeper inside you as your body lies weightless in his arms. Your head has fallen to his shoulders, your fingers are tangled and unmoving in his hair, and all you’re able to do is breathe against him. “Are you—are you good?” Jungkook asks, pressing a reassuring kiss to your shoulder. 

“Y-yes—I just—” your voice comes out shaky, but you try clearing your head. And that is for the sole purpose of holding out, keeping him inside you with a deep need to feel him cum — to feel the thick ropes coating your walls and clinging to you, seeping out of you once he pulls out. “—I need your cum.”

Jungkook chuckles, biting down on your skin. He starts caressing the skin between your shoulder blades with the pad of his middle finger, just as lazy strokes as the ones of his cock. Although lazy, you still feel the burn of him, wincing every time he goes too deep, or even deep at all. 

“You’ll get my cum, alright,” he purrs, nudging your head to face his, stealing a kiss from your swollen lips. “Can you stand?” 

You only shake your head. 

“Alright, then—” He smiles against the next kiss, not even closing his eyes. “Get on your knees. Wanna cum in that pretty mouth.”

Oh my god — roundabout. You might be a bit sad that he won’t paint your walls with his cum, but the thought of tasting him on your tongue almost gives your body new life. It takes a second for your muscles to respond, but he’s already helping you get down, his hands guiding your legs and knees on the floor. The loss of his cock is a sharp ache, well, a deep sting actually, but it’s replaced by something else entirely when you’re all the way down on the floor, looking up at his tall, bare and sweat-covered frame. 

His cock stands proud before you, glistening with your slick, twitching in the open air. He fists himself once, twice, brushing his thumb over the tip, spreading both your and his arousal over his length. You can tell he’s close, incredibly so, as he’s swollen, leaking constantly — something that has your mouth watering. 

“Open up,” he demands with a gentle voice, moving closer to you. 

You do just as he says, mouth parting obediently, tongue falling out slightly to meet him. He brushes the tip along your tongue first, letting your taste the mix of both of you. And as you want him to break, as you’re so desperate for his cum, you stick your tongue out furthermore, circling the head of him, flicking over the slit gently, teasing before your lips wrap around him.

“Ohhfuuck, just like that,” he moans hoarsely, and his hands go to your head, cradling it while his eyebrows knot high on his forehead. He tastes of you, of himself — it’s strange and addictive. But he hasn’t exactly shrunken in the past minute, so just getting him down your throat is a task so hard tears immediately brim your eyes. A sight which apparently has Jungkook losing his mind. 

“Fuck—are you crying on my dick?” he asks in disbelief, moaning uncontrollably when you hollow your cheeks to take him in deeper. You slide your lips down his shaft, hands wrapping around what won’t fit — because he is quite frankly that big. Jungkook’s whole body shudders. “You look so fucking beautiful.”

You try hiding the fact that you flush immediately at his words, and let one of your hands tug on his balls, playing gently with them as you suck him as deep as his cock can go. It’s a straining task, and you unfortunately gag when you take him in too deep, moaning around him — the vibrations traveling straight through Jungkook’s spine. 

He looks down at you with wild eyes, sweat clinging to his temples, and as you cradle one of his balls, you feel it tense. He’s stupidly close. 

His hips jerk forward without warning, letting you know just how close to the edge he really is. The sound he makes is so beautiful, so sinful, that you kind of wish you were recording this — so you could pocket his moan, keep it with you wherever you go. His eyes never leave you, and he’s sweating and panting like what you’re doing to him actually makes him lose his mind.

“F-fuck, peach—your mouth—shit,” Jungkook pants, his voice torn open and uneven, one hand slipping down from your cheek as you suck him deeper. “You’ve got some fucking mouth—ah—”

Your eyes are brimming with tears now, real ones, from the sheer stretch and effort of taking him. Your jaw aches, throat tight around the thick girth of him, your lips puffy and soaked. But you don’t stop — not even when it hurts your throat so bad that the unshed tears finally fall down your cheeks. Because you need to feel him cum. 

And judging by the frantic way his hips twitch against your mouth, the way his hand tightens in your hair — you believe he might be close to losing it. And you’re right by that. 

“Shit—shit—I’m gonna cum—fuck, baby, I’m—”

Both your hands move to the back of his thighs, digging your nails gently into his flesh, shoving your head all the way down his cock, not caring that your throat hurts so bad you could scream. Because when you look up at him, when you see his eyes roll to the back of his head, see the way sweat runs down his temple, down his plump chest, there’s no stopping you. 

His entire body shudders. “I’m cumming—baby, I’m cumming—holy fuck—”

With a deep, desperate moan, he spills into your mouth, thick and hot ropes of cum that hit the back of your throat before you can blink. You moan around him, swallowing as fast as you can, not wasting a single drop. 

Jungkook doesn’t stop twitching. He pulses again and again, his free hand trembling on your jaw as he now watches you gulp down on his cum, watches as both his release and your spit seeps from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. He watches in complete awe. Would you look at that? You’ve got the Jeon Jungkook, your fucking childhood crush, your fucking real time crush, wrapped around your finger. Or wrapped around your tongue, would maybe be better wording here. 

“Fucking look at you,” he moans, voice unhinged. “How are you real?”

You keep going, soft sucks to his oversensitive tip, tongue tracing along the underside of his shaft where a veins throbs beneath the skin. You want him clean, completely. So you don’t stop until there’s nothing left, until his cock is wet with only your spit, your tongue dragging slowly along every vein. 

He shudders, twitches again, and suddenly retracts from you, leaving your throat sore and hurting. “Stop—stop,” he pants franticly, suddenly getting down on his knees before you, almost meeting your height. Without further notice, he wraps both hands around your waist, pulling you flush to him, closing the distance with a sloppy kiss. “Fuck—you’ll be the death of me.”

You’ve never had a guy do this — kiss the mouth that just swallowed ropes own his own cum. His tongue rolls into your mouth, not even caring about the bitter aftertaste of his release, moaning against you as you press your tits against his sweaty chest. 

So there you are, on the floor of the backroom, VHS tapes scattered across the floor alongside all your clothes, making out heavily as if you haven’t just ruined each other completely. 

“Think you can walk outta here?” Jungkook laughs against your lips, not even letting you answer before his tongue breaches your mouth again. 

You gasp for air, running your fingernails down his chest, leaving white marks all over him that will certainly turn red in a moment. “Probably not.” 

“Too bad then,” he breathes, kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, eating you up. “I’ll have to carry you everywhere now. What a drag,” he teases, not leaving as much as an inch of your skin untouched by his lips. 

“Oh no,” you mock, trembling in his arms as his kisses find the sensitive spot of your neck. 

“Can I ask you something weird?” he breathes against your collarbone, licking and sucking on your skin as he waits for your answer. You only nod above him, eyes shutting close as he lavishes you in wet kisses. His next words come out low, almost unnoticeable, but your eyes widen the moment you hear them. 

“Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone over a blowjob?” 

[tranquilreign]

Haven’t read it yet but you KNOW IM BARKING LIKE A DAWG

[primsheep]

🌿

[minyoonjin]

Yoongi and his cat Tang 🥹

[minyoonjin]

HIS LAUGH OH MY GOD WE NEVER HEARD THIS KIND OF LAUGH BEFORE

[gukcnt]

hey babyyy what are all the moots that you have here? i wanna start writing too so you being one of my favs ❤💜i just wanna know who are some good people outta here that has been ur beautiful moots and motivators?

hello my sweetest !! stawp i feel so honored to be one of your favs hehe and i'm so proud of you for wanting to start writing, always rooting for you <33

some of my beautiful moots whom i adore from the bottom of my heart and love so much:

@multimxa @armyforever7227 @decalcomvnia @furioustrashlover @jmscaffeine @pjmxxjmdipity

writer moots who are my babies and you should definitely check their work:

@tranquilreign @matchastwb @jeonette

[tranquilreign]

OML STAWP YOU’RE MAKING ME BLUSH! TYSM FOR RECOMMENDING ME <3 even though I don’t post much anymore 🥺👉🏻👈🏻