Wherever There Is You

wherever there is you

“you’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?“

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: angst, a lil fluff.

word count: 4.6k (i’m sorry, I didn’t mean to)

warnings: none, except talk about drinking?

masterlist

© wherever there is you is copyright jeonstudios 2020. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

author’s note: it got out of hand, i’m sorry. also i thought this was pretty angst at first, but when i edited it, it really didn’t look it anymore? tell me if it was lmao. also i said it was edited but i only read through it like once so there will be mistakes, don’t look at those xoxo also this is like, very similiar to the last prompt i did with hoseok but honestly, who cares, i’ll write what i want to.

You’re not surprised. Not anymore. Still, you had hoped.

But the food is going cold, so you start to nibble at your hard work while staring at the other plate. Disappointment settles in your chest—the cold and heavy kind.

Continua a leggere

Title: Please Love Me Drabble Bonus (10) - I want this so much.

WC: 12,663

Tags/Warnings: foul language; alcohol consumption; talks of pregnancy, explicit sexual content (kissing, dirty talk, fingering, breast play, overstimulation, oral (m & female receiving), straddling, unprotected penetrative sex), lots of fluff; Seven JK (18+)

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hi. I’m on a break from my indefinite break. Seven JK was a burst of inspiration (so were his WeLives bc dreamy househusband alert!) and PLM!JK definitely has reasons to f*ck his wife seven days a week. So please enjoy this fluff piece because it’s happening!💕

Continua a leggere

summary: in which moving in together is a herculean task and jungkook teaches you how to fold his underwear.

> est. relationship, fluff, angst lowkey / wc: 3.2k

> warnings: mention of h!ckeys and or/l s/x (f. receiving), allusion to c*ckwarming and s/x

> in which masterlist!

note: who else will drunkenly research about men’s underwear and scroll through calvin klein’s website at 2am to write this for shit and giggles and self-indulgence if not art <3 as always i love hearing your thoughts thru reblogs/comments/asks !! 🥺

—

“pssst.”

“oh shit-”

jungkook looks up to find you standing by the doorframe of the walk-in closet, and the view instantly weaves a stupidly whipped grin on his handsome face. your hair is messy from sleep; your eyes are still half-lidded; and your lips are wrapped around the straw of the red water tumbler you’re clutching in your hands.

“baby! you scared me! what are you doing out of bed?”

“my bed escaped from me.” you mumble, padding across the wooden floor until you reach him. he watches in bewilderment as you fall to your knees and pull his arms out of your way. muscular body pliant underneath your dainty touches, he allows you to move him as you like.

“ahhh-” he produces a noise of enlightenment as you find a comfortable position between his legs, lying down across his lap. he’s forced to support the weight of your torso with his arm beneath your upper back, hand curled around your shoulder. “am i the bed?”

“mhmm, boo! i caught you. you’re stuck with me forever.” you go limp in his arms and dramatically press the back of your hand on your forehead like a damsel in distress, which elicits a chuckle from your boyfriend.

he bends down to pepper kisses along your jaw and exposed neck, plush lips brushing against the traces of love bites that blossomed on your skin this afternoon, courtesy of his friskiness. having always been extra sensitive there, the ticklish sensation makes you squirm. “that’s exactly what i signed up for.”

“oh?” you raise an eyebrow challengingly. “sure. let’s see if you can still say the same thing… three months from now.”

your fingers comb through his silky locks, taking a fistful and lightly yanking to pull him off you.

“as you were.”

a grunt tumbles out of his mouth when you change positions carelessly. in the end, you settle with straddling him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, where you nuzzle your face and almost purr like a kitten due to the warmth that you’ve missed in his absence.

the process of transforming an apartment to a home together has been… exhausting, to say the least. you’ve had most of the furniture installed before you started bringing in your personal belongings, but how can a space feel so empty and so crowded at the same time? too many boxes, too many bags, too many things left to buy. the line between what’s yours and what’s his is blurring in your eyes, and this is only the beginning.

you thought dealing with jungkook’s self-admitted laziness would frustrate you at some point, well… which it did. however, it turns out that it is precisely what you need in this type of situation. yesterday morning, he successfully seduced you into letting him eat you out on the kitchen island. you reached the height of your pleasure twice in a row, nearly delirious as he was lost in untamed lust and moaned about how you taste, distracting you from planning out what goes in which kitchen cabinet based on dimensions and convenience. last night, he had to drag you back to bed at 5am because you ended up organizing your bookshelf for two hours instead of only getting a refill of water like you claimed.

“what are you even looking for?!” jungkook exclaims with a hand over his naked waist, clad only in his boxers, as he watches you rummage through four boxes in search for something.

“the easel!” you whimper, your calves breaking your fall as you slump back on the floor in despair.

“easel?” he squats down infront of a box beside you, scratching his cheek as his puffy and sleepy eyes scan the other boxes. “i don’t think an easel would’ve fit in here, baby.”

“it’s a mini one. the one i use to display my favorite book.” you pout to point at it standing in the second level of the shelf. he recognizes it as the limited edition book he bought you last year, and the flashbacks of him standing in line for hours to get it signed by the author are inescapable.

if hearing you say that it’s your favorite makes jungkook so ecstatic that he wants to break down into tears, he doesn’t show it. instead, he nonchalantly throws you over his shoulder, making a beeline to the bedroom. he yelps when you angrily pound at his back with balled fists.

“ugh, i hate you! put me down!”

he clicks his tongue. “bad!” he lightheartedly chides you, smacking your ass. “i’m cuffing you to myself! do you have any idea what time it is? you have class in three hours!”

“but, babe, i don’t want to attend!” you cry out, slumping as you grudgingly yield. “why do you have to be so strong?! stop lifting weights for fuck’s sake!”

at the time, you meant it when you said that you want to take the moving duties slowly since you have all the time in the world but… you can’t stand the clutter and disorganization for the life of you. at the same time, it pumps your veins with thrill, having an empty space and being responsible to breathe life into it with jungkook. out of all the life-altering decisions you had to make with your still developing brain, this is the biggest gamble yet.

you don’t know if you’re blinded by love, putting your trust in jungkook when he said that he wanted to build a life with you; or if it’s arrogance, having the trust in your ability to stand on your own feet again incase a match is thrown in a puddle of fuel on the floor. the latter is more painful to think about, quite frankly. just because you can, doesn’t mean that you want to. you have to. you have to. with bruised knees from praying for a little more time, you have to. the earth doesn’t stop orbiting the sun when your house burns down.

either way, it’s too late to succumb to your inner monologue. the stuffed toys you own, including ones you’ve dearly loved since childhood, are scattered across the living room. the journal you’ve been sadly neglecting for the past two weeks is just freely lying on your personal study space. you’re here, safe in his arms, and if there’s one thing you’ll always believe in, it’s this. and you intend to make the most out of each day the universe allows you the right to be here.

“you can fall asleep like this? while i keep moving?” he whispers, wide palm soothingly running up and down the expanse of your back.

only if it’s you, you say in the back of your mind. “you can see for yourself.”

“psh. always gotta keep me on my toes, don’t you?” he smooches your cheek, and then once more, lingering and refusing to part away. you feel his lips curling up against your skin.

jungkook reaches for the tumbler you left behind on the floor, capturing the straw between his lips and plentily sipping until he deems his thirst quenched. he sets it aside afterwards, returning his attention to the laundry basket he purposely laid on the floor so he can easily reach inside. he’s been happily working hard on the laundry after you both agreed to wash the clothes you haven’t worn in quite some time to keep your closet clean and fresh.

a little hiccup though.

quickly and unsurprisingly, you ran out of hangers between his long-sleeves and yours alone. therefore, he’s solely focusing on the to-be-folded for tonight, which mostly consists of shorts, casual pants, underwear, and socks.

he inserts his arm in the laundry basket to push out the articles of clothing closer to the edge, grabbing the nearest thing and proceeding to neatly fold it over his outstretched legs. his white sweatpants lands on top of its designated pile, and then the same goes for your tennis skirt, as well as his ripped jeans, and everything else after that.

jungkook being jungkook, singing comes naturally to him after breathing and more than blinking. he hums, chest vibrating against yours as he does so, occasionally singing the lyrics in between because he means them. a tattooed arm protectively wraps around you to keep you glued to his body each time he leans forward. his careful movements, along with his mellifluous voice, fool your senses into believing that you’re being carried out by the ocean waves to the shore of dreamland.

your boyfriend freezes when one of your arm slides down his shoulder, an irrefutable evidence that you’ve fallen asleep again. you finally tired yourself out, he breathes out a sigh of relief. he cups the back of your head as support, eyes shaping into crescent moons as he giggles as quietly as he can after seeing your face.

“so fucking cute.” he muses, rewarding your cheek with another kiss before securely tucking you back into his embrace.

he carries on with his task to allow you to dive further into unconsciousness. he spends the next fifteen minutes folding the boxers that were still stuck inside one of his suitcases, patiently operating with only an arm. his tattooed one is still preoccupied with maintaining a protective embrace around you. shortly after, he decides that it’s time for you to go back to bed.

“there we go.” he says quietly to himself as he succeeds to stand on his feet, carrying you with his hands hooked around your bare thighs. you unconsciously tighten your hold around his neck and release a deep sigh of contentment in your sleep.

he kicks the door open, walking with light, deliberate steps across the wooden floor. he climbs on the bed, knees sinking in the mattress as he gently lays you down. and there’s an inexplicable emotion stirring in his chest as he covers you with the blanket, accompanied by the epiphany that he is doing this at 2am not because time has arrived to daunt him and he needs to leave your bed to go home. not anymore. whatever this is, it feels so fucking good. oh my god, he looks forward to spending the rest of his life feeling you breathe next to him, getting lost in how peaceful you look asleep when he randomly wakes up in the middle of the night.

he tenderly squeezes your arms as he leans down to plant a goodnight kiss on your velvet lips, sweet and loving. slowly, and with the smallest movements possible, he gets out of the bed to return to the closet.

“love, you’re not sleeping yet?” your tiny voice barely reaches his ears but it pinches his heart, even more painfully when he sees that your hand only managed to seize three of his longest fingers to stop him from walking away.

he sits down beside you, intertwining his fingers with yours. “i will in a bit, baby. i only have the rest of my underwear left to put away.”

you blink at him hazily, silent as you digest his words in your clouded mind. “you’re folding them, too?”

“of course.”

and with that confirmation, you eagerly inch closer to him. “teach me.”

“huh?” his forehead creases, eyebrows knitting in a state of confusion.

“teach me.” you repeat yourself, bordering on a whine.

“how to fold my underwear?”

you innocently nod your head as a reply.

“why?” he asks, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth because of your unusual request. but then again, he can’t say he’s much that surprised. it’s such a you thing to do.

“i can’t?” your lips form an adorably small pout, and you sniffle as your eyes water with unshed tears of drowsiness. “but you’re my boyfriend.”

fuck fuck fuck, he curses inside his head. his heart flips and drops to his stomach. holy shit, yes he is. it’s infuriating, how it requires you little to no effort to have him wrapped around your finger. the endearing sight automatically tugs at his heartstrings, urging him to cradle your soft cheeks in between his large palms.

“i’m just curious.” he reassures you with a chuckle, leaning down to press one more sweet kiss to your lips.

“we do chores together…” you trail off, nose scrunching when his brushes yours. you smile sheepishly. you’re relishing in the mere inches between you — how you can see that his pupils are evidently dilated, his brown doe eyes appearing rounder and bigger than they already are. “so i just want to learn how to do it right.”

you swiftly throw aside the blanket enveloping you when he voices out his permission with an “it’s so easy!”, cheerfully jumping off the bed. captivated by your unique charm, jungkook allows himself to be dragged away as a breathing, walking picture of pure adoration.

—

he finds himself sitting on the same spot on the floor, back comfortably resting on the cabinets now that you’re beside him instead of on him. your drooping eyes follow the every movement of his dexterous hands as he folds a calvin klein trunk on his lap, black with a white waistband. wearing an orange beanie of his you found stuck underneath the laundry basket, you obediently bounce your head as he earnestly demonstrates it with instructions.

“so you take this side and fold it over to the middle, and then! you do the same with the other one, so they’re folded equally like this.”

he briefly picks it up to show it to you from rim of the waistband, the two parts stacked and perfectly aligned.

“after that, you take the bottom and roll it over like… halfway? whatever, i just kind of do it by feel- and the final step… so you also fold the waistband here so you can tuck the rolled up part inside. it ends up looking this neat and compact, see?”

your gaze only flickers at the finished product, having seen what it looks like about a thousand times in his backpacks and luggages. “so these are called trunks… and those are called boxers?”

your boyfriend follows the direction your index finger is pointing at, revealing a pile of folded boxers sitting inside of his opened suitcase. he winces with his full set of teeth before he cracks up in laughter, the genuine curiosity you radiate is making his brain overflow with love and happy chemicals.

“right! those are more comfortable and breathable so i wear them at home, while trunks provide more support for when i need it, you know?”

“snug fit or loose fit this, boxers or boxer briefs that. you strip them off all the time to put your dick in me anyway.” you scoff, picking up another calvin klein creation from the laundry basket immediately afterwards.

a string of ditzy giggles slip past your lips. the light blue trunk was standing out among the neutral colors like a firefly in the forest, practically begging to be chosen as your first piece of work.

“i’ll do this one! you wore it yesterday. i love the color.”

his lips part open in surprise at your lewd and unfiltered response, a hand flying to his face to conceal the rosy shade that has begun to tint his flushed honey skin, many earrings collectively swinging and belly aching as he chortles. it’s embarrassing, really, how he still blushes despite having done countless sinful things with you. can you really blame him for being incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s so helplessly and hopelessly attracted to you?

he clears his throat, crossing his legs and moving to his side so he’s facing you. “go on then.”

you flap it against the air to straighten out the fabric, placing it over your thighs and meticulously following your boyfriend’s instructions step-by-step. you’re quiet as you commit yourself to the chore, floating in your little bubble of tranquility and concentration.

and jungkook is intently watching you with as much self-control he can muster. the urge to grab your face and kiss you senselessly is palpable, wrapping itself around his limbs like vines that have a life of their own, desperate to dip into the sun for a taste. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and he can attest to that to a certain degree… but dear god, its lack thereof?

there’s no sensible reason why the both of you should be spending your late nights in your new apartment doing stuff like this when you have an entire 55-inch television set up on the floor because you haven’t found the time and energy to attach it to the bedroom wall yet… and not to mention that jungkook had to write more batteries all types of batteries, tongs, and curtains as CURTAINS!!! in your little notebook of to-buy checklists because somehow, they never crossed either of your minds the last two times you went shopping for your remaining home essentials. his new gaming chair arrived this afternoon and he has zero clue where he will insert assembly time into his busy schedule. one of these days, you’re also bound to discover the plant namjoon left as a gift three days ago. he placed it at the balcony, and it’s only surviving due to the fact that it’s been a relatively rainy month.

although, that’s precisely what makes this moment so priceless and so grounding. you smoothly finish the challenge and sing “ta-da!” with a beam that causes your eyes to twinkle with a tiny sense of achievement despite your apparent exhaustion.

“oh?! looks perfect. good job, baby. goob job.” he praises you with a grin, affectionately stroking your hair. “let’s work together so we can go to sleep.”

his thoughtful words and action make you keen, coaxing the giddiness in you to bubble over. you playfully nudge his side as you haul the laundry basket closer. “i want to play. let’s see who can fold the most in a minute!”

“play?” his shoulders deflate as he sighs, battery running low.

“no?” your lips pucker up in dismay. “too tired, love?”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he gives it some consideration. he shrugs. “what’s in it for me?”

oh, damn it.

“the winner also automatically wins the light fixture debate?”

in which you’re referring to your month-long dispute over which color of the cloud light you should purchase for your shared bedroom. he insists on the white cloud that has the white light because it looks like a thundercloud, and on the other hand, you’re fighting for the pink cloud with the yellow light because it looks like the sunrise or the sunset depending on its saturation and brightness.

“alright!” he blurts out, a surge of energy kickstarting his system. he snatches his phone, which he left in one of the empty shelves near him. “baby wants to play a dangerous game, huh? the stakes are incredibly high! too high! are you ready? to lose?”

your mood sours when he begins using his variety show hosting voice, confidence dwindling but determination fueled and burning brighter now that he’s in higher spirits.

you roll your eyes. “yeah, sure. ready to lose the white variation in my cart, bro.”

he smirks mischievously, his childish and devilish laughter echoing in the closet. “we’ll start the timer! in three…! one- go!”

“freeze, you cheater! i wasn’t ready! put that shit down!”

—

note: soooo, are you team oc or team jungkook? i will be keeping score 👩‍💻

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm to be added or removed :D

—

how many | jjk | 0

Pairing: Jungkook x TattooArtist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut, BadBoy!AU

Summary: To Jeon Jungkook, you're just the cutie who sits across from him in art class. He doesn’t have a clue that you're also the hidden face of his favorite tattoo artist on social media. When the bad boy notices you've taken a surprising interest in his ink, he dares you to explore every inch of his body until all of his tattoos are accounted for. Tempted by his irresistible smile and delicate touch, you might even let him in on your little secret.

Word Count: 3.2k

Parts: 0 ◆ 1 ◆ 2 ◆ 3 ◆ 4 ◆ 5 ◆ 6

A/N: hello! this is going to feel more like a series of drabbles with an overarching plot rather than a traditional series. also please note that only certain chapters will contain smut (ill mark the ones that do). this particular chapter has no smut

Art class isn’t supposed to be scary, but that doesn’t stop you from taking the furthest possible seat from where all the chatty people are getting acquainted before the new semester officially begins. Maybe you fucked up. Maybe you should’ve picked a seat closer to all those extroverts, and maybe you would’ve naturally fallen into their circle. Or not. You wouldn’t blame them.

You decide you’re fine right where you are. It gives you the space you need to ensure no one else sees the internal chaos reflected in the whites of your eyes whenever it comes to social interactions. You’re the opposite of a social butterfly, and it’s at times like this when you wonder how the fuck some like you has such a huge social media following—503,448 followers to be exact. It’s not your personality (you’re too much of an introvert for anyone to really get to know you). It’s not your face (you haven’t posted a single photo of yourself on your account). So it has to be your art.

And although you’re a lover of all different art forms, your true love lies with ink on skin. It’s a bit unexpected for someone like you, a soft girl with not a single drop of ink on her own arms. But regardless of your unassuming appearance and quiet nature, you’ve won over countless people who proudly wear your art on their skin. That’s the business you built for yourself from nothing more than a passion you’d always kept close to your heart.

So maybe you should stop worrying so much about making good first impressions. Your art will break the ice for you.

“Is this seat open?” A finger with a fine crown etched into it points at the spot across from you. Your eyes follow a long sleeve of eyeballs, text, and rock ’n’ roll up to a handsome face with too many piercings to count. He fits the description of someone you’d only heard rumors about but never saw in the flesh. Tatts and piercings? Check. Man bun? Check. Hot as fuck?

You take a quick glance at the boy as a whole. Some of his features are surprisingly soft. His eyes are enormous, his nose is adorable, and his lips are the prettiest pink you’ve ever seen—1775 C in Pantone if you had to guess. He even smells nice. Fuck. Definitely hot as fuck but also lowkey cute.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you say while trying to get your heart rate under control. He nods and pulls his earbuds out as he takes a seat. He uses his phone screen to check his reflection, making more of an effort to rub a speck of who-knows-what off his lip than to make small talk with you. This person is someone who clearly doesn’t give a fuck where he sits, and it’s sad that you’re envious of that.

“Hey, nice tatts, bro,” another guy calls out as he passes by your new neighbor.

“Thanks,” he calls back. It isn’t long before he’s back to his phone. You wonder if he’s too absorbed in his own reflection to hear the girls talking about him at the other table.

“I told you we should’ve sat over there.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

“That’s Jeon Jungkook, isn’t it?”

Aha. Jeon Jungkook. That name rings a bell. You whip out your phone and search him up. It only takes a few seconds to find that his Instagram @ArtOfKooking has quite a following too. You scroll through his most recent posts but find none of this “art” that he speaks of in his handle aside from what’s visible on his arm. Imagine having 100k followers just for being an attractive human.

Your mindless scrolling comes to an abrupt stop at a black and white photo from a few months back. He weaves his fingers through his long locks with a killer gaze. You take back what you said about the lack of art on his page. It turns out the boy himself is a work of art and he knows it.

You suddenly remember why you’d avoided searching Jungkook up when your friend Seokjin first mentioned him to you a while back. The last thing you wanted was to fall victim to a pretty face with excellent taste in body art—a deadly combination and one of your biggest weaknesses. But it’s already too late. Your thumb double-taps the photo to trigger the little heart animation.

Wait.

You study his profile again and identify a bigger problem than your tiny crush on a boy who’s probably going to get you into a lot of trouble. Jungkook follows your tattoo account, which means he’s going to get a big fat notification that you liked his photo from months ago, which means you must’ve been scrolling through his posts for some time, which means you’re clearly intrigued by him, which means you’re actually fucked.

Thank god your professor finally starts the class. You need some sort of distraction from the first-world problem you currently find yourself in with the fine specimen sitting across from you.

“Let’s start with an exercise with the person sitting across from you.” You already hate this professor. “To get better acquainted with your classmates, I want you to draw whatever your partner requests in your own style. The request can be as specific or vague as you want. Oh, and no dick pics or boobs, please. I was told to keep the first day as clean as possible.”

With the assignment underway, you and Jungkook both pull out your sketchbooks. Yours looks practically new despite being halfway filled. His looks like a dinosaur stepped on it with more than a few pages falling out. Without saying a word, he slides his sketchbook over to you, inviting you to snoop around inside his world and waiting for an invitation of his own. Your sketchbook is too heavy to slide across the table, so he watches patiently as you push your sketchbook to him inch by inch until he picks it up with a silent chuckle. Great, he already thinks your weird.

The physical state of his sketchbook is deceptively sloppy. There are probably more torn-out pages than actual drawings, but you have to admit you like what you find. His style is a tad chaotic yet somehow in good taste. You can easily picture these designs somewhere on his body, and perhaps they already are.

Your favorite detail is that everything is in ink.

“You’re incredible,” he says, flipping through your pages. “You’re like those YouTubers who draw soda bottles and shit as if it's sitting on the page in real life. You know what I mean?”

“Thanks,” you nod. The compliment is oddly specific and not exactly your niche or platform, but you do get what he means. You have a knack for replicating what you see. If you were to copy a barcode line by line, it’d probably fool the scanner. That’s the level of precision in your work.

“Ah, I got it.” He twirls his pen around. “Can you draw my arm drawing whatever you want me to draw?”

“Sure.” Of course Jeon Jungkook wants you to draw him. Sounds on-brand for someone who is quite possibly in love with himself. But maybe you can use that trait of his to your advantage. “I want you to draw your next tattoo.”

You see his eyes shift from your art to your face. He studies you for a moment. If you had to guess, he probably doesn’t believe someone like you is actually interested in his tattoos. After all, most tattoo enthusiasts are identified by the ink they proudly wear on their sleeves. Meanwhile, your version of a sleeve is cozy, knitted, oversized, and void of any ink.

“What if I drew one for you instead?” He places the pen down on the blank page in front of him and stretches his arms up toward the ceiling. The upper section of his sleeve peeks out from his black tee. It's even more intense than his forearm. “I’m kind of over the thrill of injecting ink into my veins.”

“Oh…” That’s most definitely not the response you were expecting. Maybe you shouldn’t have assumed that someone with a lot of tattoos wouldn’t mind one more. How dare you make such a bold assumption. You'll never open your mouth again.

“I’d much rather taint someone else,” he hums. His tone is light but his eyes are dark as they pierce the air between you and him. You’d really like to see him try.

“Art can be tainted by people, but people can’t be tainted by art,” you respond. As introverted as you are, you gain a sense of comfort to speak your mind when it comes to an art form that has defined your life thus far. “Unless they have a tattoo of their ex. Then I guess they’re kind of fucked.”

“Truer words have never been spoken. I knew I liked you.” Oh. His nose crinkles and his laugh is much softer than expected. He picks up his pen and starts drawing heavy smooth lines. “I was just fucking with you, by the way. You can never have too many tattoos, right?”

You nod as if you also have a full sleeve of eyeballs and rock ’n’ roll. That’s when you notice he’s drawing in your sketchbook as if what’s yours is his. Whether intentional or not on his end, you don’t really want to swap back.

“I don’t think the professor intended for us to draw in each other’s sketchbook,” you point out as you follow his lead and start marking up the next blank page in the Jurassic artifact. You outline the positions of Jungkook’s arm, your sketchbook, and the top of his sketchbook from your perspective.

“I like it better this way,” he says. His lines are starting to come together, but you still have no idea what it’s supposed to be. You just have to trust the process. “It’ll give me something to remember you by.”

“You make it sound like I’m going to be dead by sunrise.” You try not to look at the smile that forms on his face when you say that. Instead, you focus on the details in his tattoos and transfer them onto your page. Some of the tattoos match the style found in his sketchbook, and it’s not a coincidence. “How many of your tattoos are your own design?”

Jungkook puts a pause on his drawing to examine his arm and run some calculations in his head. His answer isn’t a number. “I lost track, but maybe you can count them for me.”

He gives you a better look at all the art on his arm. He’s practically asking for your attention, and a part of you hates that you’re so quick to give it. Your innocent soul diligently counts all of the ones you assume to be in Jungkook’s style. You count around five. But then it hits you. You don’t know how many other tattoos are beneath his clothes and where they might be hiding.

“How many others are hidden?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Let me know when you’ve found them all.”

It takes you a minute to wrap your innocent head around what he’s implying. You imagine he might have one on his ribs—that’s the most attractive spot you’ve come across as a tattoo artist. But in what scenario are you going to find a shirtless Jeon Jungkook in front of you? Clients strip down for you all the time in the name of art, but it’s not like Jungkook is aware of your inking business. So the only way you’d ever thoroughly explore his bare body is if—

Your mouth forms a tiny O, but no words come out. In fact, you find it pretty hard to do anything at the moment, so you just watch as the boy continues on with his mysterious design. He definitely knows what he’s drawing, and yet you can’t seem to crack the code.

“You’re fun to tease, Y/N,” Jungkook says, nonchalantly flipping your sketchbook back to the inside cover to make sure he got your name right. Of course you’re That Girl with your name written in fancy font on your fucking sketchbook. And of course he’s going to tease you about every quirky thing you do. “I really hope you aren’t dead by sunrise.”

“Unlikely.” You realize you’ve regained your ability to function properly and point to his work in progress. “But if I am, promise me you’ll get that tattooed on your forehead where everyone can see it.”

“It’s a promise.” He plays along with your dry humor before getting back to work with a cute smile. Wholesome smiles always seem to hit different when they’re coming from the people you least expect.

At some point, Jungkook waits for you to finish drawing his arm so that the two of you can complete his design at the same time. He claims his design is only a few strokes away from the big reveal, but you’re still not seeing it.

As class comes to a close, your page is filled with a beautiful arm, two sketchbooks, and a design that’s apparently “only a few strokes away.” Jungkook takes you line by line until you see it. Very clearly, in fact. It’s a bunny with a tiny carrot tattoo, and it’s been staring you in the face the entire time. The boy drew it upside-down from his perspective so that it’d be right-side up for you. You’re thoroughly impressed.

“Is this tattoo for you or for me?” you ask. While the bunny might definitely be on-brand with Jungkook’s art style, it’s not quite as edgy as his other tattoos.

“Does it get your stamp of approval?” He closes your sketchbook and hands it back to you.

“Of course it does.” You try not to smile too much at the fact that Jungkook’s adorable design is forever inked into your sketchbook. “I love it,” you say as quietly as possible.

“Then it's all yours.” He whips out a black marker and gestures for your hand. You give it to him without question. The hand that holds yours is rough (in that he should probably invest in some higher quality lotion) and gentle (in that you never want him to let go). The subtle caresses engulfing your hand distract you from the marker gliding across your skin. Twenty seconds later, you have a simplified version of the bunny on the back of your hand.

You flail your hand about and blow on it in hopes that the ink will dry before it can smug. “If you ever get your license, this is the one I want,” you say.

“Sounds like a plan.” He takes one last look at your completed drawing and tucks it away safely into his bag. For someone with such a beaten-up sketchbook, you expected him to be a bit more careless with his belongings. But maybe he’s a little different from what you thought you knew about him.

In fact, it’s thanks to this boy that your first day in art class went as well as it did. You made him laugh, and he made you smile. Like everything just felt right between you and him.

You feel like you’re forgetting something though.

“Hey, by the way, do you have an IG for your art that I can follow?” Jungkook pulls out his phone because why wouldn’t you have an account to showcase all of your art? You blink at him because here’s your next mistake: Your only Instagram account @snowsleeve is the one for your tattoo business, the one where your identity is more or less kept out of the spotlight. And you never thought to make a separate account with all of your non-tattoo art under your real name.

“I actually don’t… but it’d probably be beneficial for me to make one.” You’re embarrassed that this is your reality. You’ve utilized social media to build a strong reputation for your business, and yet you totally failed to get your real name out there in the art community. Because perhaps someday, you won’t want to be known solely for your tattoos.

“Well, make one and add me,” he says. “I’ll be your first follower.”

“What’s your account?” Of course you’ve already tracked him down at @ArtOfKooking with your subpar sleuthing skills, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s @jjkINK.” He pulls the account up for you to view. All of the art missing from his other account can be found here, and his face is nowhere in sight. Maybe having multiple accounts is more common than you thought.

“Wow, 30,000 followers? I didn’t know I was in the presence of an influencer,” you gasp and make it extra dramatic. After all, 30,000 is a big following for someone who isn’t a celebrity or well-known figure.

“I’m not an influencer.” He laughs and waves off your dramatic performance. “I’m just someone who shares his art with others. It’s really not that impressive, you know.”

“Well I’m impressed,” you say. And you mean it. You find it interesting how he doesn’t just dump all of his art into his @ArtOfKooking account with over three times as many followers. You imagine it’d be pretty tempting to do that for the sake of more exposure.

Once you’ve set up an alternate account under your real name with @Y/NsArtCorner, you hit the follow button on Jungkook’s art page and leave it at that. A few seconds later, you get a follow back from @ArtOfKooking.

“Oh, that’s my main account,” he explains. “I don’t post any art on that one, so you don’t really have to follow—”

You hit the follow button on that account too. “104,343 followers... Are you sure you aren’t an influencer?”

“I haven’t influenced anyone to do anything, for your information.” You feel like there should’ve been a hmph at the end of his sentence. He points to the bunny on your hand and says, “Well, except for you getting that rad tattoo.”

“Hey, don’t go thinking your bad boy self is a bad influence on me,” you say, holding your wrist close to your heart. “I’m totally not against the encouragement of getting something permanent branded into your skin.” You play it off as sarcasm, but that’s how you make bank.

“Would you really get one?” His eyes lock onto your body, identifying it as the perfect blank canvas for whatever he’s imagining.

“How do you know I don’t already have one?” You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms, still careful not to smudge the precious ink on your hand.

Jungkook tilts his head and squints as if he’s trying to see through the knitted holes of your slouchy sweater. As far as he can see, you don’t have any. But maybe that’s the point. Any tattoo you may or may not have would have to be hidden somewhere on your bare skin beneath your sweater, your lingerie, and most importantly, your soft smile. And the thought of that puts a curious little gleam in the boy’s eyes.

“Wait, how many do you have…?” He needs answers.

You throw your bag over your shoulder and shrug on the way out of the classroom. “Let me know when you’ve found them all.”

for me | dilf!jk drabbles

⤷ A collection of drabbles accompanied with dilf!jk

⇢ all drabbles contain mature content | 18+ | warnings listed in each drabble

!there is no taglist!

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; jeon jungkook, the man you’re hooking up with on a daily basis and conveniently is your neighbor, happens to bring news with him one day – one you’d never expect unless you see it with your own eyes

⇢ read here

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; while adapting to being a new dad, he doesn’t forget what an asshole he can be – and it all starts from one bitter feeling

⇢ read here

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; you’re one knock away and jungkook uses that opportunity, although there should be a different reason behind his knocks – one that you and him both know he owes you

⇢ read here

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; you make him rethink a lot of things, one in particular, especially if it means no longer having you in his and his daughter’s future

⇢ read here

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it’s a first proper date he’s supposed to plan, unfortunately it does not go according to his plan

⇢ read here

My Love Is Here | Masterpost

↠ pairing: jungkook x f reader

↠ au(s): bestfriends to lovers, unrequited love

↠ genre/warnings: slow burn, fluff, lots of angst, smut

↠ rating: 18+

summary: "You didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s not like you purposely woke up one day and thought “Hey I’m going to fall in love with my best friend!” No, that is not at all what happened."

Moodboards

Teaser: Just My Imagination

The time you first felt your heart sink.

Chapter 1: I Cant Make You Love Me

The time you realized, he was never truly yours.

Chapter 2: It's Me Or You

The time you chose yourself.

Chapter 3: Celebrations and Surprises

The time you came back home.

Chapter 3.5: A New Chapter

The time you said goodbye.

Chapter 4: All of Me

The time you experience the unexpected.

Chapter 5: It's Not What It Seems

The time you tied up loose ends.

Chapter 6: The Truth Untold

The time you hear both sides.

Chapter 7: Let's Try Again

The time where things start to look up.

Chapter 8: Final

The time you found out, he loves you too.