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1kook · 3 years

Text

wrong place, right time

— a someway, somehow jjk x reader drabble summary “Marry me,” Jungkook says one night warning smut is mentioned in passing (jk getting tied up, gagged, crying lol, also him fingering oc), da ex girlfriend Sojin is mentioned 😨, oc is a LIL scared..... she gets over it lol rating m (18+) wc 1k

note (!) alas.... our last swsh drabble to fulfill the arc I accidentally began for them <3 rip in peaces u will be missed mrs. ‘swish’

His timing is absolutely terrible.

At first, you had wanted to believe Jungkook was the normal one, that it was you who moved according to strict imaginary schedules. Wake up at exactly 6:14am every morning, grab your keys by 6:43. Precise, exact. Jungkook and everyone else moved according to more lax rules. The auto shop opens at 9am, sometimes 9:10 if traffic is bad; it closes at 11pm or whenever the last client leaves. Compared to Jungkook, you were just too picky about timing, too strict.

For a long time, that seemed to be accurate.

“Marry me,” Jungkook says one night, rolled beneath an old Dodge pick-up truck that has definitely seen better days. You’re sitting off to the side, fingers flying across your phone’s keyboard as you type up an angry email. It’s muffled, the sound of his voice absorbed by the junk of metal above him. You pretend you don’t hear it. A few minutes later, he rolls out from underneath, has got a dark streak of something painted across his perfect forehead. He taps the pointed toe of your heel with a wrench. “Marry me,” he repeats.

You balk. “You’re asking me now?” you clarify just in case, phone slowly coming to rest against your thighs. He tilts his head to the side, shrugs like he sees nothing weird about the situation. There’s no other word to explain the emotion that blooms in your chest other than completely dumbfounded. “Like… right now?”

Jungkook’s not even looking at you anymore, too busy shuffling through his toolbox for that one weird shaped tool you see him use often. “Do you want me to ask another time?” he suggests casually. When he looks back up, he’s got this slightly confused look on his face, as if you’re the odd one. And because the moment is just so… weird you find yourself nodding along.

And that’s that. You move on, pretend like Jungkook’s weirdly placed proposal didn’t happen, let it settle in the very back of your mind. Not like it’s hard, anyway. Your schedule is packed, clouded with meetings and deadlines, all your new roles as the department manager, and you barely have time to think about it.

He tries again about a month later.

“Marry me,” he gasps after a wild night beneath the sheets. There’s tender marks lining his rib cage, over his arms, around his throat. His face is still flushed, and there’s drying cum against his tummy. He might’ve cried tonight from overstimulation, but you can’t quite remember. That’s how he asks you the second time.

For some reason, you laugh the second time. “What?” you chuckle, and maybe it was one of those protective measures, laughing in a tense situation because you don’t know what else to say. Your mind is still stuck somewhere between the gags and the cuffs and the tears and the way his skin had bruised beneath your touch.

Jungkook rolls out his wrist— it’s red, so fucking red —and then promptly reaches for your hand. The pad of his thumb is rough from years of working, swipes across your knuckles lovingly. “Marry me,” he says, but you can’t tell if the blush on his cheeks is from his bashfulness or from the fact you had choked him a few minutes prior. “I want to marry you.”

Your brain stalls, mouth opening and closing. Jungkook doesn’t seem too bothered. He kisses your knuckles, asks you to get the salve from his drawer instead. He doesn’t mention it again that night, just lets you rub his back and goes to sleep.

The next time comes sooner, about a week later.

His mom mentions it one night, the three of you squeezed into the tiny kitchen of his family home as his dad snores in the other room. “Sojin is getting married,” she says, and the air is sucked out of the room. At least, it is for you.

You try to play it off, straining your eyes to catch a glimpse of him in your peripheral. “Really,” Jungkook says, half a turkey sandwich in his mouth. He’s still in his jumpsuit from work, has it knotted around his waist in that way that makes him look extra beefy, extra sexy. “That’s crazy.”

His mom hums, and their genuine lack of emotion towards the news makes you feel like you’re the crazy one once again. “She sent an invitation.”

She leaves the kitchen soon after, leaves you quietly stirring the sugar into your coffee as Jungkook gobbles down his sandwich. A loud gulp, the loud smack of his lips. “We should get married,” he says, and you jolt, spoon clattering loudly against the inside of your mug.

Your brain doesn’t struggle for a response this time. That being said, it doesn’t necessarily have you giving him a good response either. “Like Sojin,” you reply, and feel weird about it immediately. Icky. Gross. Bitter.

Apparently, Jungkook gets it. “Or we can get married in ten years,” he suggests instead, skips over your little blunder like he never heard it at all. “Or fifty.”

You appreciate it. “When I’m saggy,” you mumble, eyes hyper-focused on the mini whirlpool inside your coffee mug.

He hums, bumps his hip against yours. “My cute, senior citizen girlfriend. We can drive one of those retro cars around town.”

The worst one yet is on the side of the road, your car battery giving out on the highway that connects the city to your hometown. Jungkook picks you up, pulls up behind you and has the audacity to catcall you as he walks up. “Hey, beautiful,” he flirts after you punch his stupidly strong bicep, grins this cheesy thing at you as he gets to work.

In the end, your car can’t be revived with the limited tools he brought along. You settle on waiting inside his truck, snuggled beneath his jacket as you wait for the tow truck. He gets the bright idea to fondle you beneath the coat, the dying sunset painting his charming face in a romantic glow that has you seeing stars and galaxies and nebulae when you come. “Marry me,” he husks out, mouth slotted against yours.

It’s the last time he asks; it’s the first time you say yes.

#networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #Jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon Jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook drabble #jungkook drabble #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #bts x reader #swshd #mine

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skyview-temple-spring · 3 years

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What's the worst Sws take you've seen since SwsHD launch? I'll start: I saw a few people complaining that Impa was never 'redeemed' from what she said at the earth temple

oh that's a bad one. I don't think this is new but it's the first time I've seen it: Pipit is a bad person because he was mean to his mom once

Kinda falls under the same category, doesn't it? God forbid well written three-dimensional characters have flaws (or in this case just deal some hard truths)

I want to know what other bad takes have been made now lol

#I know for a fact I've seen some shitty Ghirahim takes but I can't remember then exactly #you know. the usual. 'ghirahim gay bad link straight love zelda baby must be protected from queer predator'#'anyway here's my link replacement OC no see it's different they're 18 it's not predatory at all yes I still see Ghirahim as an older adult #newsflash those 6 months between 17 1/2 and clock strike twelve 18 don't do shit mentally #unless something like.... idk graduating high school and going off alone into the real world happens #got off track. maybe the Ghirahim ones were the worst #I hate the term tough love because it's so often used to justify abuse #but that's kind of what Impa and Pipit needed to do to be listened to #.... I REALLY want to write that scene from Impa's POV.... it's very angsty in a Hylia x Impa way.....

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mememan93 · 1 year

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So I was looking at your what I expected and what I got for Totk and was thinking about how it unexpected the depths were and how I end up thinking and comparing them to the Mines of Moria. Have a wonderful day. Good luck with everything.

Hi sorry i saw this and totally forgot to respond. I know, right?? if anything they should've advertised the depths more, cause imo they're more interesting than the sky so far. I think they showed the sky islands off, then releases Swshd to generate hype because it could create a connection.

#hi polite anon!

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1kook · 3 years

Text

one man, no hands

— a some way, some how jungkook drabble summary “Just my mouth,” he reassures you, rough hands slipping beneath the sides of your skirt, urging you to lift your hips as he nudges it over your tummy. “Promise.” warnings established relationship, mechanic jungkook, business woman oc, cunnilingus / eatin out, jk is dirty like in the literal sense rating m (18+) wc 2.5k

notes am i confident in the title? no. am i stubborn and feel like it has to follow this pattern out of some weird self made obligation? yes, please help me. anyway here is 🔧⚙️ jk and his hot girlfriend once more <3

For the most part, you like to believe you were a pretty composed person. Sure, there are a few instances in your personal history where you exploded, sobbed, cursed the planet to hell and back. But given your chosen career track and the amount of stupidity you dealt with on a daily basis, you’re significantly more mild-mannered compared to your peers. That being said, you were by no means the dictionary definition of serene. After a long day of meeting clients around the city, a rather unsatisfying lunch, and atrocious city traffic—all while breaking in a new pair of heels—there was nothing more satisfying than pulling up to Jungkook’s empty auto shop and huffing out one long, “fuuuck.”

Jungkook doesn’t mind. “Hey, gorgeous,” he calls from over his shoulder, looming over the open hood of yet another innocent vehicle. The metal table beside him holds every tool imaginable. “How’s my sexy department manager doing today?”

“Terrible,” you confess, heels clicking against the concrete floor. You realize he’s hunched over his own car today, a rather rare sight if you’re being completely honest. Jungkook wasn’t the biggest fan of working on his own car(s) at the shop, something about pride and refusing to admit something was wrong with them in front of people who looked up to him. Men, you chuckle, finally closing in on him.

He’s terribly sweaty, the sweltering heat turning the inside of the garage into a human microwave. “How’s my sexy mechanic doing today,” you hum, throwing all reservations aside to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek. Jungkook, as always, makes sure to nuzzle into the touch.

“Pretty good,” he replies, taking advantage of your affectionate nature to set aside the tool that had been in his hand. You watch his sturdy fingers reach for the hood of the car, carefully shutting it because he knows you hate the smell of metal. The rag tucked into the pocket of his red jumpsuit is littered with stains, and the half-assed wipe of his hands against it doesn’t help.

When he turns, that same hand attempts to reach for you, the remnants of oil buried beneath the tips of his fingernails. “Hey,” you warn, intercepting him at the wrist; you’ve spent one too many nights at the local laundromat trying to remove oil from tweed.

Jungkook frowns, shakes his head to the side in that infuriatingly sexy way that not only lets you see the dark furrow of his shapely brows, but also has the tendons in his neck bulging just the slightest. “Give me a kiss,” he pouts, pretty pink lips fighting off a smile. “I missed you.”

Hands holding onto his wrists, you lean forward, your pointed heel tapping against the dirty toe of his work boots.

One of your greatest contributions to society was introducing Jungkook to strawberry flavored chapstick, a deed that the universe pays you back tenfold with each kiss he bestows upon you, lips so soft and sweet. If you look past the distinct smells of the auto shop and Jungkook’s own natural scent, you swear you can smell the strawberries.

It is as you’re trapped in this train of thought that Jungkook manages to overpower you, abruptly stepping forward enough to throw you off balance. Your gravity shifts, and while your heartbeat may spike for a moment, you know he’d never let you fall. “Easy there, beautiful,” he grins, one tatted arm wrapped around you. He’s got that stupidly cocky grin on, the one that usually proceeds some stupid or horny thought.

Lo and behold, a second later he says, “can I eat you out?”

You roll your eyes, placing two hands against his chest. Jungkook takes it as a sign of your approval and moves in for a second kiss, only for you to shove him away with a huff. “You haven’t even showered, smelly,” you chide, straightening out the front of your blazer in a rather snooty manner that has Jungkook scoffing.

“Please?” he tries again, not the slightest bit phased by the unimpressed look you throw his way. “I’ll wash my hands.”

“Jungkook,” you level, settling into one of the many rolling seats that decorate the floor of Jungkook’s garage, your cell phone placed down on the metal table nearby. From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the familiar paper wrapping of the deli down the street, crossing your arms over your chest. “Did you eat at Shin’s for lunch? I don’t want your onion breath on my intimates.”

Jungkook steps in front of you, looking down at you with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Well then,” he says calmly, and then, drops to his knees in front of you. It has you jolting in surprise. Before you can accidentally send yourself rolling across the floor, Jungkook catches your ankle in one hand, tugging you forward until your knee presses against his side. “It’s a good thing that was Jimin’s lunch and not mine.”

“Kook,” you gasp, the muscles in your legs weak against the grip he has on the back of your knees. The muscles in his forearms tense up as he slowly pries your thighs apart, leaning down to place a rather soft kiss against your knee. The tenderness of his kiss shouldn’t be surprising, but it never fails to make you inhale sharply, hands slowly coming to rest against his shoulders.

The brush of your fingers against him has his eyes flickering up to meet yours, strawberry sweet lips curling into a smile. “Just my mouth,” he reassures you, rough hands slipping beneath the sides of your skirt, urging you to lift your hips as he nudges it over your tummy. “Promise.”

One shaky exhale later, you find yourself slowly nodding along, fingers burying themselves within the dark tresses of his hair. “No hands,” you remind him one final time, letting him manhandle you out of your panties. “And be gen—“

Your words are swallowed up by the surprised squeak that slips through your lips upon Jungkook’s first long lick over your slit. “I’ve got you,” he chuckles, the low and breathy kind that makes your skin tingle. “Hold on to me.”

“What the— fuck!” you exclaim, pulling at his hair in sheer fright when he whirls your chair around suddenly, pushes you the three feet until your chair is bumping against the front of his bumper, appropriately named. “Jungkook,” you scold, roughly yanking him up by his hair. “Don’t do that.”

“Shh,” he hushes, but the shock still has your heart thumping a little too quickly. You pinch his ear. Jungkook shakes you off just as quickly, throws you a childish glare. “You’ll need the support.”

The opportunity to question him never comes, because a second later Jungkook is tugging you forward in your seat, knees neatly placed over his shoulders for easy access to your pussy. You did need the support, you realize, back pressed against the curve of the hood as Jungkook begins the rather torturous process of teasing you.

As promised, his hands rest over your thighs, thick fingers digging into the soft skin as he descends upon you, one featherlight kiss pressed against your mound. The polite greeting of his lips is followed by the not-so-polite greeting of his tongue, the warm and wet muscle caressing your clit.

Your breathing hitches, a pleasant warmth settling in your core. It blossoms quickly, stamps out the remnants of fear from a few minutes ago. Jungkook’s tongue plays a key role in that change, nudging your clit back and forth carefully as he listens to the subtle alterations in your breathing.

After the day you’ve had, the delicate way Jungkook laps against you has you melting, both into his touch and against the cold metal of the hood behind you. “Oh,” you pant, eyelids fluttering at the kiss he places against your labia.

He’s relatively quiet today, just soft sighs against your cunt. Without his hands, you’re surprised by how easily he navigates his way along your lips, tongue nudging your folds apart. The round tip of his nose throws you for a loop as he kisses down your slit, the soft skin unintentionally brushing against your throbbing clit. (Or maybe intentionally— you never really knew with Jungkook.)

At your quivering entrance, he pauses, pulling back with glistening lips and dark eyes. “Good?” he murmurs, tongue peeking out at the corner to trace across his red lips. Another shake of his head, dark strands tickling his cheekbones.

“So good,” you exhale, releasing one hand from it’s trembling grip in his hair. You press it against the side of Jungkook’s face instead. Briefly, the tips of your fingers brush against his ear, an action that makes his eyelashes flutter, mouth dropping open just as your thumb presses against his lower lip. “Make me cum,” you command, as if you aren’t completely at his mercy right now.

Still, Jungkook humors you. His pearly teeth playfully bite down against your thumb, a smile making its way across his features when you pull away. “You got it, boss,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “You’re the boss here,” you mumble, shivers running down your spine when he ducks back down once more.

Lips suctioned around your clit, your thighs quiver beneath his touch. A soft whine pulls itself from your throat, hand jerking forward to grasp at the white undershirt he’s got on, stained like always. Jungkook ups the intensity, pulling away with a loud pop only to bestow a chaste kiss against your sensitive clit. “Please,” you whimper. It takes every last remaining ounce of self-control to keep yourself from accidentally clamping your legs shut around him, hips jerking forward as he licks his way down your slit once more.

His tongue dips its way between your folds, over your quivering opening, as if he’s circling where he’ll pleasure you next. A second later, you feel your entire body tense up momentarily as he slips his tongue in. It’s nowhere near as girthy as his cock, barely comes close to two of his fingers. But there’s something about Jungkook being so close, mouth against your pussy, that sends a shock of electricity straight there.

“Oh— Oh, god,” you sigh, head lolling back, tapping against the hood of Jungkook’s car.

The fingers digging into your skin tighten to the point of bruising, his hands growing anxious with every breathless moan drawn out from you. His plush lower lip is warm against your puffy skin, hot breath fanning over your wet folds as his tongue slowly works its way in and out. Slow, painstakingly slow. The speed has you growing restless, legs threatening to lock around his head, pushing him against your cunt until he can’t breathe.

It’s a good thing Jungkook is the one in control, his flattened tongue trailing one, long lick over your pussy. It starts at your entrance, glistening with arousal and his saliva, and ends at your clit. You’re almost certain you can feel your heartbeat through the bundle of nerves, releasing a loud cry at the way the tip of his tongue flicks against it once more.

The muscles in your legs, tired from walking all across the city, spasm beneath his ministrations. Your shoulders, tight from the weight of your responsibilities, relax back against the warm metal hood. Every kiss Jungkook places against you has you melting, feeling so unbelievably pampered. “Fuck, J- Jungkook— baby,” you whimper, letting go of his shoulder to bite down on your knuckles.

Jungkook breathes harshly against you, brows furrowed together as he focuses on making you feel good. The sight of his handsome face buried between your thighs makes you shiver, jolt when he pushes his tongue into your entrance once more and begins slowly thrusting it in and out. It’s so wet, mixes with your arousal and makes this lewd sound that only fans the flames of your pleasure, fingernails pressed against his shoulders and then burying themselves against his scalp.

It doesn’t take much longer, fatigue and pleasure catching up to you all at once, accumulating in a toe-curling orgasm unlike your usual ones. It’s quieter, filled with stuttered gasps instead, Jungkook’s name occasionally finding its way into the mix. By the end of it, you find yourself fretting over the state of your boyfriend’s scalp, having pulled it roughly at the height of your pleasure.

“How cute,” Jungkook hums softly, eventually releasing one of your trapped legs from over his shoulder. He rubs the back of his hand over his mouth and chin, transferring a dark stain of something onto his porcelain skin. In that moment, you’re glad you banned the usage of his hands on your pussy. Without anything to hold it up, your leg slips down, the impact of your heel against the concrete sending a tingling pain up your leg.

“Ouch,” you murmur, and then find yourself demurely covering your exposed pussy, still glistening with cum and saliva. At your modesty, Jungkook snorts, releasing your other leg only to surge forward and knock his forehead against yours. “Ouch,” you repeat, the stinging pain exacerbated when Jungkook pushes himself closer.

“So, what do you say?” he asks, smiles that devilish smile that makes him look like a Calvin Klein model. His hands are at your waist, helping you tug your skirt back down. It’s nothing grand, but your rose-tinted view makes you swoon at the way he manhandles you. He’s dangerously handsome, has you mindlessly wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Say about what?” you mumble, hypnotized by the cherry hue of his lips, and the fact they probably taste like you.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, like he’s going to kiss you. Instead, he pauses just in time to say, “how was my onion breath?”

You’ve never pushed someone away fast enough, nearly impaling him with the sharpened heel of your shoe against his chest. It sends him tumbling back, a rough cough mixed with a boyish chuckle, the dorky kind as he sprawls himself over the dirty concrete floor of his auto shop. It’s as you’re glaring down at your immature boyfriend and what you’re certain is a tiny puddle of motor oil beside his head, that you realize this is your life now. Men, you think bitterly.

“I hate you,” you announce childishly. You find your discarded panties on the metal table beside a goddamn wrench. You fling it at his chest, only the slightest bit turned on when he raises it up for a sniff. “Mmm,” he purrs, letting the flimsy fabric rest over his eyes. You don’t even have it in you to scold him on how dirty that is, instead nudging his side with your shoe. “You know,” he says, catching your ankle in his hand. He guides your foot over him, surprising you when he places it directly over his chest. “I had a dream like this in high school,” he confesses, making your face heat up. “Think it was because of those 50 Shades of Grey books we found in your attic.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #mine #swshd

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1kook · 3 years

Text

right place, wrong time

— a someway, somehow jungkook drabble summary Home was Jungkook, it had always been Jungkook… but it wasn’t this Jungkook. warnings angst, heart ache, its actually kinda sad :/ lmfao, jk is a little... uh... como se dice.... jerk without realizing it.... justice for oc.... also there’s a scene where oc throws up so !! rating m wc 1.5k

notes THIS TAKES PLACE 5 YEARS BEFORE SWSH ITSELF ! OK ! enjoy <3 i wanted to try writing angst again <3 also i have no self control i said i would post this in 7 hrs yet here i am. and its not proofread <_<

When you were kids, the fact Jungkook’s birthday fell early on into the school year was a huge deal; everyone in your class was invited, both new and returning students, and the event itself was practically the opening scene to the school year itself. As you got older and he began to move away from colorfully decorated parties, his early birthday still earned him a lot of attention, had everyone at your high school congratulating him from the moment the first bell rang until the last. There weren’t any grand birthday bashes during high school, but the Jeons were a loving family, party or no party, and always got him a cake to celebrate each new year.

Up until you left for college, you had never missed Jungkook blowing out the candles for his birthday. Be it a backyard party bustling with kids or a smaller affair at his favorite restaurant, you had always been invited, always cheered for him with each new year of life he welcomed.

As a kid, you had always been adamant on getting the spot closest to him as you sang happy birthday, beaming at your best friend like he was your entire world. His childhood photo albums had been proof of that, filled with a chronological sequencing of every birthday he’s had with you at his side, your smiles changing with the times— from missing teeth to full of braces, you had always been at Jungkook’s side.

As a young-adult, you had to bite down your pride and watch Sojin fulfill that spot.

You had missed his last two birthdays since entering college. Your first year away from home, everyone you knew warned you about not going home too early into the year, something about how it would solidify your homesickness and you’d never be able to assimilate afterwards. So you had congratulated Jungkook from Taehyung’s phone screen, greatly appreciating the way Taehyung angled the phone away from Sojin as best he could. Then your second year, you had been drowning in that first wave of projects and essays, and simply couldn’t squeeze a five hour drive there and back into your schedule. Jungkook understood; there was no party this year, just a simple family dinner. The video call ended soon after you congratulated him, his attention drawn away by the voice of another woman you knew all too well.

For his twenty-first birthday, Jungkook was adamant that you attend. He had told you about it before you had left for the new semester, bent over by the front wheels of your car, making sure everything was in tip-top shape before you went off again. His t-shirt was drenched in sweat, trails running down his hairline, over the prominent veins of his neck.“I want you there,” Jungkook had said, taking your offered hand as he stood back up. He must have miscalculated— or maybe it was on purpose —his step, because when he stepped forward, he was all too close. He didn’t let go of your hand. “Please?”

Your eyes flickered over his chest, to his neck. He smelled like home, or at least the image of it you had created in your mind during your last two years away. Home was lavender fabric softener billowing over you in waves, the faint traces of this morning’s cologne, the subtle scent of his metallic work tools. It was his chocolate curls tickling his eyebrows, his easygoing smile, the way he pulled you closer, made the scents wash over you all over again.

It was Jungkook. It was Jungkook. It was Jungkook and his warm touch. It was Jungkook and his softened gaze. Home was Jungkook, it had always been Jungkook… but it wasn’t this Jungkook. It wasn’t this Jungkook and the hickey on his neck.

The sight made your stomach recoil, eyes quickly averted from the site of the crime. He had gotten here later than usual, said something about having to take Sojin somewhere first. So that’s what that meant. Jungkook, unaware of the fact the collar of his t-shirt has let you in on his private life, squeezes your hand. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

And you were stupid and you were in love, so of course you said yes.

It’s a cookout this year, his backyard filled to the brim with relatives and friends and so many cans of beer you don’t know what to do. His parents are ecstatic for your return, babbling on and on about how much he missed you for the last two birthdays. You take it in stride, and maybe in a different timeline you would have believed it, but not this one. Aside from greeting you at the door and taking your keys off your hands, you had barely seen the birthday boy all day. You mingle with old friends, his relatives, tentatively sip at your can of soda. You’re tired, the long drive having sapped the majority of your energy for the day.

Sometime around sunset, you meet eyes with him across the yard. Jungkook smiles, he always smiles. You okay? he mimes with a thumbs-up, and you want to say yes, but Sojin is sitting on his lap, an obnoxiously loud display, and when he puts his hand back down, it immediately finds its home on her thigh. You send him a half-hearted shrug, play it off like you're still a little carsick from the long drive here.

(Truthfully, you are sick, but you’re not sure it’s from the drive.)

Even at twenty-one, his family maintains their tradition and sings him happy birthday. With your return, his mother delegates you to cake cutting duties again, so you’re on standby for the song, at his side with the cake cutter in hand. Jungkook is grinning from ear to ear, Sojin attached to his hip, his arm sling around her shoulders. His family sings and sings, and Jungkook is happy. His eyes jump around the table, taking in the sight before him the way he does every year. And when they reach you at his side, Jungkook beams, reaches for your hand beneath the table and squeezes, all the while keeping his girlfriend closely hugged to his other side.

You cut the cake. Sojin gets her slice and promptly whisks Jungkook away.

By ten pm, you find yourself in his upstairs bathroom puking your guts out. It’s the carsickness, you tell yourself, or maybe the cake frosting, throat gagging around nothing, tears clinging to your lash line. But is it really?

“__?” someone says, and you make a weak attempt to turn towards the door. You don’t know what you expected— had you actually wanted Jungkook to find you in this sorry state? —but it isn’t Jungkook. “Shit, what happened?” Taehyung worries, hurrying to your aid. And you’re grateful that there’s someone here to help you, to save you from yourself and your stupid, heartbroken thoughts. But it’s not the man you want it to be, and that has you squeezing your eyes shut tightly, until the mascara on your lashes imprints itself against your under eyes instead.

The man you want bumps into you downstairs, catches Taehyung helping you into the spare bedroom to lie down. “__?” Jungkook calls out, eyes big and scared. “Where— what’s going on?” he asks, thrusting his plate into Sojin’s hands before rushing to your side. He grabs your forearm, and the touch burns, so you yank yourself away.

Faintly, you hear Taehyung explain. “She’s sick,” he says, pulling you closer. “She’s been out of it since she first got here. I think it was the long drive.” Yes, it was the long drive, you agree.

Jungkook, unfazed by your first recoil, reaches for your arm again. “I’ve got her,” he tells Taehyung, underestimating his strength when he tugs you closer, has you stumbling into his chest. His rough handling makes your stomach tighten, your head feel dizzy.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, hand on his chest. “Wait— I’m—“ And he’s trying to move you back up the stairs, probably into his bedroom to lie down. But the sight of the stairs and his overwhelming scent and the hickey on his neck, the hickey Sojin left on his neck, makes you nauseous all over again.

Taehyung yelps in your defense. “Jungkook,” he scolds, carefully maneuvering you out of Jungkook’s harm’s way. “You’re making it worse.”

From a few feet away, Sojin calls out his name. “Jungkook?” she says and her voice is so sweet, yet so sticky; it makes you gag. “Baby, they’re calling for you outside.”

And everyone is saying his name, so he doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know who to prioritize, not when everyone wants his attention. He looks at you, and your heart soars for a millisecond. Then it plummets when he settles on Sojin instead. “I— you’re right, Tae,” he sighs, backing off, letting go. “You got __, right?” Taehyung nods. “Call me if anything happens.”

And he leaves, slips his hand around Sojin’s waist and guides her out the door. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even tell you to get better soon. He just leaves.

Taehyung lays you down, doesn’t say a word when you start crying because he probably thinks it’s about your stomach and the vomiting. “It’s okay,” he soothes, helping you out of your shoes. “Does it hurt?”

Yes, you sob. It hurts very badly.

#networkbangtan #jungkook #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fic #jjk #bts x reader #swshd #mine

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1kook · 3 years

Note

hello! i'm new to your work specifically the SWSH series so i was wondering if i could know the chronological order of the events? i read the right place wrong time one first. what follows?

oh hey hi hello!! thanks for asking n sorry I never like. put them in order before fjejs but here is the chronological order!!!!

some way, some how isn’t first BUT you should definitely read it first because it really is the main plot

right place, wrong time

paint job, hand job

this unnamed drabble

one man, no hands

wrong place, right time

#asks #swshd

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1kook · 4 years

Note

hi hello /sticks head in\ can u give swsh a pat for me . And a hug for oc><

1k for u and ur continued love of swsh jk😚

Jungkook doesn’t like pats, says they make him feel weirdly like a puppy, but he makes an exception for you. “Really,” he snorts under his breath, brow furrowed as he blindly reaches over for the tool cart beside him. “Now?”

The hood of the car he’s working on this time around is popped open, held up by a rusty metal rod that has you slightly nervous it’ll collapse at any second. The garage is stuffy tonight, makes sweat cling to his temples and onto the engine beneath him. His hair’s gotten long and his half-assed attempt to relieve some of the weight by shaving off the sides has him now rocking a tight little ponytail with strands that tickle his cheekbones.

He looks like an absolute wet dream, jumpsuit snug around his waist, sleeves of his undershirt rolled up around his shoulders. Had it not been for the fluttery feeling that had implanted itself in your chest during lunchtime, maybe you would have climbed him there and then.

Moving away from behind him, you settle against the metal tabletop nearest. “Sooo,” you muse, mindlessly organizing his tools around until they’re in neat rows according to size. Jungkook doesn’t look your way, too busy shoving his hand around the metal parts of the car. “Someone sent me flowers at work today.”

He pauses for the most minuscule second, before dutifully moving on. “Yeah?” he grunts, flicking his head to the side when his stray hairs get too bothersome. “Sounds nice.”

You agree, rounding the side of the car until you can lean against the cleanest looking part— god forbid you tainted a fourth dress suit this month —and try to catch his eye. His cheeks are warm and you’re almost certain it isn’t because of the heat. “They were my favorite,” you add, basking in the shy pucker of his lips as he hurriedly works away at the engine. “The ones I said would look nice at a wedding.”

“That’s, uh,” he clears his throat. “That’s nice of them.”

He casually avoids your gaze, but his fingers reach a little too clumsily for the rag on his shoulder. Feeling satisfied with your teasing, you round the car once more, successfully startling him back until he’s knocking against the tool cart. “Jeez, baby,” he chuckles, voice a little strained as he refuses to meet your piercing eyes.

“Was it fun,” you purr, hands crawling up to catch the neckline of his shirt. “Picking out pretty flowers for me? Did you have fun, sweetheart?”

Jungkook’s cheeks blaze, avidly craning his neck up at the ceiling. His hands are hovering over your waist— he also doesn’t want to pay for a fourth dry cleaning this month —as he contemplates what to say. He eventually settles on, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You scoff. His skin is still smooth, despite the fact he spends his days covered in oil and sweat and has the most half-assed skincare routine in the entire world. “Cute,” you preen, angling him down to face you again. Despite the huffy look on his face and the flaming color of his ears, you indulge him in a sweet little kiss. He melts into it right away, tilts his head for you when you swipe your tongue along his plush bottom lip. It’s with the willpower of twelve gods that you somehow manage to pull away, his honey gaze threatening to tug you under his spell once more. “Something you wanna tell me?” you tease, tracing your pointer finger along the soft slopes of his face.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head forward until his chin is practically touching his chest, as if this is the most bothersome task in the entire world. The truth is, he’s still a little shy when it comes to expressing his emotions. “Congrats on your promotion,” he mumbles, looking up at you through the dark curtain of his lashes. He’s acting demure now, like he didn’t have you bent over the wooden desk in his office an hour ago. Duality of a man, you suppose, reaching up to pat his head once more. “Were the flowers nice?”

One final gentle pat on the head for his bravery today. Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Very,” you beam, making a feeble attempt to tuck his stray hairs back into his ponytail. “We should really do something about this hair,” you suggest, “have you ever tried braiding it?”

But while you’ve become consumed in the act of styling his hair, you’ve greatly underestimated the duality of this man in particular. With his shy confession out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time crowding you against the car (dry cleaning be damned), sturdy fingers hauling you up onto the very edge of the hood. You’re terribly focused on the intricate engine lying just behind you and the old rod that barely keeps the hood up, but Jungkook is adamant on winning your attention. “New department manager,” he husks out, hand splayed across the small of your back. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

His voice is low, and his mouth is hot against your throat. “You’ll drop me,” you warn, fingers digging into his shoulders, but Jungkook simply laughs, the least bit concerned with safety.

“Let me fuck you in your new office?” he growls, tugging you close until your skirt is riding up over your thighs, the bulge at the front of his jumpsuit pressing against your core. You’re still a little sore from an hour ago, but the molten look he gives you paired with his request makes your legs feel like jelly. “What did you say it was, baby— 30th floor? Fuck, whole city is gonna see these tits when I press you against the window,” he groans, tongue gliding down your throat, fingers hastily undoing your jacket buttons. “How’s that sound?”

Risky, for one. Dangerous, too. But he’s already holding you precariously over an open engine, so. Jungkook feels so good, muscles fit perfectly against your body. He sounds good too, like what erotica novelists only wish they sounded like. So maybe you’re a little stupid when you respond, maybe you’re a little too in love.

“Absolutely perfect,” you whimper, meeting his devilish grin with a kiss.

#swshd #swsh #asks

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1kook · 4 years

Text

paint job, hand job

a some way, some how jk smut drabble ((there’s references to it but honestly this could be read alone)) tags; established relationship, more autoshop fun, handjobs, praise pink, spitting :/, nipple play, jk gets pampered basically, hints of domesticity notes; I wrote sw,sh bc I specifically wanted to write this scene and in the end I forgot about it…. so here it is in drabble form 🤩

also thank u to my buddy @kigurumu for reading this over for me 🖤🥺 no more wrong usage of verb tenses🤩 and u have rumu to thank for it!!!!!! also thank rumu for sliding me this gif v.v

In the past few months, you’ve come to learn a multitude of new things about Jungkook. He was still as wonderful and endearing as he’d been his whole life, and with no soul-crushing secrets between you two, you were exposed to a whole new side of him. There were, of course, a lot of nice things, tiny actions you had only just begun to notice; the way his eye twitched when he was looking at a car, the mindless way he’d bump his foot against a wheel when he was thinking. But for all the wonderful things Jungkook was, you would also catch sight of weirder quirks. Not weird in that they made him a terrible person, but weird as in they weren’t exactly qualities the majority of society strived to have. There weren’t many, but the ones you knew of weren’t exactly ideal to your position as his girlfriend.

One, he was extremely bad at asking for help. One time you caught him floating through the bread aisle at the supermarket, hands drifting over the plastic bags as if his touch alone would remind him which was your preferred brand. It was amusing watching him wander like a ghost until you finally walked up behind him, gestured towards a loaf. You didn’t mind little things like this, after all you were very picky about buying the correct brands, and Jungkook knows this. At the time, you thought it was adorable. Overtime, however, you can admit that his fifteen minute detour to the bread aisle could have easily been cut in half with one simple text your way.

Two, he was easily stressed. Jungkook’s job was pretty grueling during the fall, when college kids were back on the roads and fucking up their cars every chance they got. Thanks to the multitude of employees on his team, he was never doing too many repairs at once. But every so often, he’d find a project that spoke to him and he’d pour every ounce of dedication into it. He always did good, always left customers happy. The real obstacle was Jungkook’s own need to always one-up himself. He was perpetually unsatisfied with his work, no matter how many times people praised him.

Lastly, and probably where you find yourself struggling the most, was his inability to communicate these things. He never asked for help, never told you he was feeling stressed. It was a guessing game with him, trying to figure out if he needed some extra support or not. You slipped up at times, tried to help him with something only for him to wave you off with an amused smile.

But there were other times where he desperately needed you and didn’t know how to ask. Like now, the shop completely dark save for a lamp shoved up beside his lonely form in the empty garage.

Rolling your sore ankles around once, your heels clack loudly as you enter the space, keys tossed somewhere onto the metal tabletop as you set to work preparing him a snack. His newest project was repairing a beat up Ford GT from the early 2000’s, a silver body with dark blue decals running over the hood. He had found it somewhere by his mom’s house, fell in love, and had been on a mission to revive it since. All this would’ve been fine, normally, if Jungkook wasn’t so set on getting everything perfect down to the last detail. Tonight, it was fixing the exterior. The garage reeked of paint.

It had been like this for the past three days. You would come over, catch him cooped up in the garage late after working hours, and make him something to eat. The weekend had been okay because you had stayed over most of the day and checked in on him when you could. But Monday was trickier to plan around; one glance at the clock told you it was a little past nine.

That morning, as you packed your lunch, you had been mindful of setting aside some for him too. Now, as you pulled a plastic container of washed and scalped strawberries for him, you were glad you had thought ahead.

It’s much brighter where he is compared to the rest of the garage, the yellow glow of the lamp glaring down at where he’s carefully running a brush against the edge of one, straight line. If he hears you come closer, he doesn’t acknowledge it, furrowed brows narrowed at the metal before him. Setting the container on a tool cart beside him, you lean down to brush your lips against his cheek. “Hi,” you murmur, wait for him to mindlessly turn his head and kiss you.

He does, a quick kiss, before diving back into his work. A beat of silence, and then, “hi, baby,” quietly, almost robotically. You don’t mind, leaning over his shoulder to glance at how perfectly he manages to paint along a straight edge, even with you breathing over his neck. He’s got the stool raised up today to properly lean over the hood of the car. Shorter than you still, but higher up than how you usually find him beneath a car. After a moment you return your gaze to the side of his face, pink bottom lip caught between his teeth as his eyes scan over his work, round glasses barely clinging to his nose. Cute, you think, faintly nudging the spectacles up the bridge of his nose for him. He mutters a soft, “thanks.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders when he finally leans away from the car, dark eyes scanning over the paint job. Occasionally you pluck a strawberry out from the container, hold it to his lips as he munches through it, puckered lips mindlessly opening and closing for you. You don’t stop until he’s eaten half of them, by which you then move on to your daily questioning. “What else d’you eat today?” You ask.

It takes him a moment to respond. “Subway,” he says, gestures with a nod at the discarded wrappers in the trash.

“And when was that?”

“Around noon.”

You sigh, rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Baby, that was a long time ago. Have you even showered today?” You ask, tug the beanie off his head to get a whiff of his hair. It smells okay, but you have a feeling his last shower was yesterday night. Jungkook doesn’t say anything but at the first brush of your fingers through his hair, he dissolves. His head rolls back, desperate to feel your touch on him for the first time in a while. You snort, dragging your nails along his scalp. “Feel good?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, body loosening. “So good.”

You beam, trace your fingers down the curve of his neck, until goosebumps are springing up. “You’re so tense,” you note, hands drifting to rub over his shoulders. Jungkook sighs, head falling between his shoulders as you get to work on them. “You need to relax, honey.”

“I know,” he sadly agrees, and, like a baby, stretches his arms up cutely, before letting himself slouch again. You let your hands drop, wrapping your arms loosely around his chest. “But I wanna do good.”

“You always do good,” you tell him, squeezing his middle in reassurance. Jungkook sighs like he doesn’t believe you. “But,” you add, and at this he visibly deflates. “You’d do even better if you relaxed every now and then. No one’s waiting on this car. It’s just for fun, remember?”

He’s always had this obsession with perfection. You suspect it stems from his past, his relationship with Sojin, and most importantly, his relationship with her dad. One can only take so much criticism from their lover’s parents until they snap. Snap, or begin to believe it’s true. He must’ve suffered through so much in their time together and never once did he fight back, a thought that makes you frown as you watch his knee bounce nervously.

Another sigh. You kiss behind his ear, rubbing your hands soothingly over his chest. However, you greatly underestimate how strongly your thirst for Jungkook runs, because even now with him all mopey in your arms, you want nothing more than to please him.

A subtle brush over his abdomen, and Jungkook inhales a tight gasp, abs curling beneath your wandering hands. The sweatshirt he's wearing is your only obstacle. Pressing your lips to the mole on the back of his neck, you move your mouth to his ear. “Let me take care of you?” You murmur, nibbling at one of the tiny hoops that lines his ears.

He tenses up, turning his head, half-lidded eyes analyzing your features. After a moment, he nods, cheeks flushed.

“Good boy,” you purr, hands creeping beneath the hem of his top, faintly tracing over his skin. Jungkook lets out a shaky exhale, muscles tensing under your touch. Another kiss beneath his ear.

It’s rare that he lets you do this, let’s you pamper him while he does nothing. Jungkook was a fairly proactive lover, always making sure you were completely satisfied before anything else. In the past few months of being in a relationship with him, you can hardly remember a time he came without you.

Which is why you take extra care gliding your hands up his chest, over his pecs. His heartbeat thunders beneath your palm, skin so soft and kissable. You’ll save that for another day, you think, tracing a finger over his nipple. It hardens quickly, and you don’t miss the way he shifts in his seat as you begin rolling it between your fingers. “You like that?” You hum, lips pressed against his ear.

It’s so easy to get as close as you’d like, breasts pressing against his back. Jungkook nods, shaky breaths escaping his throat.

While one hand busies itself on his chest, tugging at the sensitive buds until he’s jolting in his seat, the other creeps back around his waist. You run your hand along the skin above his waistband and relish in the way his muscles twitch, until you’re finally slipping it down over his sweats.

His cock is hard, painfully so, and a soft moan escapes him when you run your hand over his length, cupping the head gently. “Look how hard you’ve gotten,” you tease, pressing your palm down more forcefully. Jungkook huffs. “Just from me playing with your nipples,” you chuckle, kissing down the side of his neck. Even through the fabric, you can feel every twitch of his cock, every throb as he grows more and more aroused.

“You like having your nipples played with?” You ask, abandoning his cock to slip both your hands up his shirt again. Jungkook complains with a soft whine, rolling his head back to the ceiling. He’s choked off when you catch both nipples in your hands, pinch the pebbled buds. His hips squirm against the stool, rutting up into nothing, as you continue over his chest. “How does it feel, sweetheart?”

“G-Good,” he gasps, knuckled fists trembling on his knees, pale from how tight he squeezes them. “Can you…?”

“Can I what?” You hum, finally releasing him in favor of gliding your hands down his stomach and over his thighs teasingly. He’s pliant under your touch, muscular thighs reduced to two trembling masses at your every touch.

Jungkook bites down a whimper, eyes trained on the hands that dance over his lower half, barely brushing over his cock like he wanted them to. “Kook?” You croon, right against his ear. He bucks into the air, his head finally lolling back to rest against your shoulder. “Finish your sentence, babe.”

He nods but you can tell he doesn’t remember what he wanted anymore, eyes rolling back behind his foggy glasses. You smirk, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. “I, um,” he falters, legs spreading wider as you continue massaging your palms over them. “You…um.” A few more stuttered ‘ums’ later, and then, nothing.

After a moment it’s obvious he won’t say anymore, mind a frazzled mess as he falls headfirst into the sensations you’re bestowing upon him. “It’s not proper to say ‘um’ so many times,” you scold, finally let your hand rest over his cock. He sucks in a breath, teeth clenched. “Good boys don’t do that, y’know.”

“S-Sorry,” he chokes out, and you forgive him with a squeeze around the head of his cock. “Wanna be good,” Jungkook pants, voice strung high.

“I know you do,” you murmur, kissing down his neck as your hand continues rubbing over his cock. His hips circle, body sinking further back onto you as he melts under your touches. “Wiggle your pants down for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes, yes,” he concedes, hands scrambling for his bottoms. Unravelling yourself from around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders instead, watching him as he struggles to tug the rest of his jumpsuit down.

“Kook?” you call, watching his trembling hands fight with his boxers. “relax, okay?”

He nods, takes a deep breath, and then slowly tugs his bottoms down. He doesn’t manage to get that far before his eagerness wins over, and he’s struggling to push them down past the bulge of his muscular thighs. You decide it’s enough, pushing his hands away as you wrap yourself around his waist again, nuzzling your face behind his ear.

“Good boy,” you praise, and a tiny whimper catches in his throat. You glide your hand over his thigh and let it sit at the base of his cock, thumb and forefinger teasingly wrapping around the base.

“Fffuck,” he moans, twitching beneath you.

There’s a pearly bead of precum that forms at the tip, creamy substance slowly dripping down his cock and leaving a glistening trail in its wake. “Pretty,” you comment, watch it pool around your fingers. “But not enough. Kook, spit,” you demand, feel the way his body tenses up at your words.

“Huh?” He chokes, ears and neck flushed as his brain fully wraps around what exactly you’re telling him.

You shift closer, tightening your hand around his cock as you listen to the whine that rips itself from his throat. “You heard me. Lean over, and spit on your cock,” you repeat, feel him shake beneath you. “You’ve done it before, right? Used your own spit to get yourself off.”

He doesn’t answer, so you give his engorged member another squeeze that has him sputtering back to life. “I-I have,” he admits, blush high on his cheeks. “But I never just...spit. On it.”

You hum, watch the way his fingers flex on his thighs.

Deciding to switch tactics, you push as close as you can, licking a thin stripe up the curve of his ear. “But I love watching you spit,” you pout, loosening your grip on him ever so slightly. His cock remains just as stiff, standing almost completely on its own. “Love feeling it all over my body, down my pussy,” you moan, and the way you rub your thighs together is no act. Jungkook throbs in your hold, biting down another groan. “Don’t you wanna know how good it feels?”

His breaths come out shaky, head nodding at your words. He ducks down, dark hair covering his eyes from your view, but not his mouth. His lips pucker, and ever so slowly, a thin trail of spit drips down from his mouth, glistening in the lamp light until it finally reaches his cock, coating his length in a thick sheen that drips down over your knuckles.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. “That’s it,” you gently encourage, slowly beginning to work your hand over his cock. The glide is slippery, squelching noises filling the huge garage as your fist pumps up and down his cock. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

Jungkook groans, bucking into your palm with every squeeze you give. “Ye-yes,” he pants, skin warm and flushed as you kiss over his neck.

His cock is still so hard, twitching for you. You could do this for hours, feel the heavy weight of his arousal in your hands, listen to his tiny gasps of excitement. His head lolls back again, and you can’t help the endeared smile from watching him fall apart in your hands. “Sweetie, look,” you call out, finally making your other hand useful as you cup his balls.

Jungkook hisses. “Babe, that’s—“ a moan rips itself from his throat, your hands massaging over his swollen balls, caressing him as your hand picks up its pace on his cock. “Too much,” he whimpers.

You press a kiss to his neck, nibble at the skin until it’s bruising. He’s quivering like a leaf, sweat trailing down from his hair and over his skin, your name falling from his lips like it’s all he knows.

The head of his cock is angry and swollen, dripping in precum and his own saliva. You want it in your mouth, but the moment was already so fragile, so close to the end, you didn’t want to mess that up by pulling away. So you tighten your grip, licking the beads of sweat from his neck until Jungkook spasms in your hold.

“Fuck, shit, I’m gonna,” he grunts, body caving over as his orgasm hits, grabs him by the throat until he’s gasping for you to stop, voice wobbling on every syllable. You don’t, choosing to stroke him through until his cock is limp, jumpsuit stained with pearly splatters of white.

After he’s done, you press another kiss to his ear. “Good boy,” you smile, straightening your back after wiping your hands against his soiled uniform. You step away and snatch some napkins off the metal table to wipe him down.

You can tell he’s not completely there yet when you crouch down in front of him, dark eyes unfocused as you make a lousy effort to wipe the splattered droplets of cum off his jumpsuit bottoms. “Hello,” you tease, nudge his chin with your hand. “Anyone there?”

Jungkook snaps out of whatever post-orgasm trance he’d been in and helps you to your feet. “Fuck, that was good,” he sighs, and you giggle. “Screw the car, can we just go to your place?”

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook drabble #jungkook drabble #mine #swshd

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