SERENDIPITY | PJM

SERENDIPITY | PJM

You were disgustingly in love with Park Jimin, your coldhearted boss.

Alternatively:

“I’m your Calico cat, here to see you.”

pairing: ceo!jimin x secretary!reader

word count: 3.2k (one-shot) PART OF INTRO SERIES

gennre and content warnings: fantasy au, angst, fluff (?)

Aside from the fact that Park Jimin was the epitome of beauty, your colleagues didn’t understand why else would you be head over heels for him.

Seriously. What was wrong with you? How could you fall in love with Park Jimin when it was obvious that he was the human version of Satan? He wasn’t just bad, he was vile.

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Set On You (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Genre | Fluff, smut / volleyball!AU, college!AU, setter Jungkook x manager reader

Warnings | Light smut, detailed thigh-riding, thirsty nsfw thoughts, alcohol consumption, swearing and a whole lot of hopeless pining and soft moments because it’s soft uwu hours 24/7 

Word count | 18.1k

Summary | Sports has never been your thing, so when you find yourself in a sports hall that reeks of perspiration and cologne and in front of a group of volleyball players whom you’re supposed to be managing (heck, you can’t even manage your own life), you know that you’re in Deep Shit™. 

Especially when Jeon Jungkook, the golden setter of the team aka the boy who holds stars in his eyes, starts to occupy your reveries, slowly becoming both the quiet and pandemonium of your heart.  

The repeated squeaks of sneakers and harrowing smacks from the contact of palm against ball reverberate across the court, sounding awfully similar to the erratic thumping of your heartbeats, but they do nothing to drown out the thudding in your eardrums. Cowering meekly behind the door of your school’s daunting indoor sports hall, the perspiration on your palms is getting way out of hand and your legs almost threaten to take you back to your dorm, but the palpable, icy-cold air that greets you halts you in your tracks.

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something borrowed | jjk

VIBES | first loves, a lil angst, a lil... infidelity (don't scream at me!!), no smut (a little teeny lips to kitty moment but no actual smut) jungkook's nose be doing things (smelling <3) cause when is it not?, mafia au

SOUNDTRACK | moth to a flame - swedish house mafia, the weekend ; mirage - elina

HOLLY'S NOTE | (originally posted april 2023) was in a tiktok hell hole of moth to a flame edits, and this is the product of it loool. posted on wp first!!

WORD COUNT |  2.8k

GLOSSARY OF TERMS | all relating to korean gangs 

Gyeongsang - the ancient name for what is now known as the Yeongnam district of Korea. It includes Daegu, Busan, Ulsan, and both Gyeongsang Provinces. It's essentially the South-East of the country.

Honam - the district of Korea which includes Gwangju and both Jeolla provinces. Essentially, it's Yeongnam's counterpart - the South-West of the country.

Pa - the term for a 'mob' in Korean, often affixed to regions or identifiers of specific gangs

Jopok - a term for someone involved in a gang 

THEY SAY you never forget your first love; that it's some sort of earth-shattering, universe-bending, life-debilitating experience. You learn from it; how to behave, how to act, how to break a heart, and - sometimes - how to heal one, too.

They're a funny thing, first loves.

Virginities are given and taken in all aspects of life; sex, declarations of affection, scathing remarks in the midst of arguments.

Jeon Jungkook has all of your firsts, and you all of his.

It had been a too-hot summer, and you'd been rebelling.

Fresh-faced, and terribly bored of the confines put in place by your father, Jungkook had seemed like a safe bet. 

Jungkook had always been a rebel. You made no change to that.

You'd gone to Busan looking for trouble. Like father, like daughter. He usually went there to fuck with Gyeongsang-pa goonies who didn't know their left from their right; to remind them that what Honam-pa may lack in their underground history, they made up for in their sheer moxie.

You'd gone there to fuck with Gyeongsang-pa goonies, too, just in the literal sense. You were on the cusp of nineteen, and still being held prisoner to Honam-pa hierarchy, or so it felt.

An easy target was found in the form of a boy skimming rocks against a settled bay. Leather jacket and a face of thunder, Jeon Jungkook had wanted nothing to do with you. Heard the tone of your dialect and knew you were one of them.

"Ain't no place for Honam bitches," he'd told you. Had made you laugh.

"And who are you?" You'd replied, voice condescending, eyes innocent. "Too scrawny to be Jopok."

He had smirked. Shook his head. "Yeah, and you're too vapid to be asking questions like that in a city that ain't yours." The pebble he sent hurtling into the ocean skipped once, twice, three times before sinking. He turned to look at you. Sighed. Figured you were at least a little bit more interesting than pebbles. "What's your name, Honam?"

As you stand in front of a mirror, seven years since that summer, you know Jeon Jungkook will be getting all of your lasts, too.

You're smoothing down a dress; white, lace, and everything a girl dreams of.

Well, everything a girl who wants a traditional wedding with all the bells and whistles wants.

You've always considered yourself an elopement kind of girlie; last-minute charity shop dress for you, and second-hand tie for your groom, in a city worlds away from 'home'. That's what you would have liked.

But you're Honam's Princess. 

This was always gonna be the way.

You'd never expected yourself to have a Gyeongsang-pa groom, but sometimes life works out in funny ways.

"It's bad luck," you say quietly as Jungkook approaches the doorway. It's a little before noon. Nuptials are at two. You've sent away your ladies in waiting, favouring these final moments alone.

"To see the bride?" he questions. He's not even started getting ready yet. Still in a pair of sweats and an old shirt that you remember from that very first summer. You wonder if he's wearing it deliberately now; if it makes him feel like he's young again.

He'd been so fresh-faced back then. His broad back hadn't yet been tarnished by a dragon, and his eyes had seen far less violence. His hands, too.

You nod. "Remember? I told you. You shouldn't see the bride on the morning of the ceremony."

Jungkook just shrugs. Pushes the door to, and walks further into the room to stand behind you. It's warm, but his presence gives you chills. It shouldn't do. Not when you know him as intimately as you do.

His fingers reach up to toy at the vintage clasp of your necklace. He asks, "Something old?"

You're silent as you study him in the mirror. He's not aged a day. Not really. Not in his eyes. The scar on his cheek looks a little deeper from his face filling out, and he wears his hair differently - he doesn't subscribe to the Gyeongsang-pa standard of short sides, long top anymore - but his eyes are just the same.

"Something old," you nod.

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, and lets the very tips of his fingers trail down your spine, until they reach the fabric of your dress.

"Your Grandmothers," he says. "I remember it."

You don't hide your surprise.

"What?" he smirks, when he notices the tiny little hum of confusion you do. "Was that first summer. You left it in my car once. Was karma for you chatting shit about your sister inheriting the opal ring."

"It was too small for her fingers!" you immediately protest, still standing by the fact it would have been cherished by you - though you do have an opal ring, now. 

It normally sits snug on your fourth finger, awaiting a dainty silver band to keep it company, but it's off today. Symbolic. Your wedding band is to be threaded on first, held in place by your opal forevermore.

"The necklace suits you," he offers. 

Thinks it really does; a small silver chain, links twisted with a single teardrop pearl resting on your chest. It goes back generations. Is a status symbol. Losing it in Jungkook's car had left you terrified for you both, no matter who would have found it - Gyeongsang-pa goonies or Honam-Pa. Would have been fucked either way. Fraternizing with the enemy was one thing - but fucking them?

Your father would have had Jungkook's head on a butcher's block within an hour of finding out.

Funny, how things change.

He strides over to the dresser, where a white shoe box sits open. Tissue paper sprouts from the packaging, and nestled inside are a pair of heels that he thinks are befitting of you. They're white, to match your dress, with ornate silver leaves trailing up and around the heels. You'll be a good few inches taller with them on, but he'd still dwarf you if he were to stand across from you.

A little taller than he was that very first summer, Jungkook is far more confident, too. Not in a brash, false bravado kind of way, but in such a way that he's learned his worth. Knows where he is in the pecking order. Works so much harder than you ever will, and yet will never be of equal status. Not in Honam Pa, not in Gyeongsang-Pa.

He sits on the chair beside the mirror and holds a shoe in each palm. His legs are spread, smile arrogant, as he taps the shoes together.

"Something new?"

"Careful," you say, not looking at him, tweaking a little bit of your hair back. "Yes. Something new."

He raises one of shoes, and nods to where the skirt of your dress pools on the floor. "May I?"

"Shouldn't even see-"

"See the bride, yeah, yeah, I know," he says softly. "Next time I see you, you're gonna be one of us. Let me at least spend a little time with you while you're still Honam."

"You've always hated that I'm Honam," you remind him.

He doesn't deny it.

"Just let me help you get ready for your party," he says, stern but gentle. He's always been like that with you.

He calls it a party, because he refuses to call it a wedding. Wedding is too romantic. Too foreboding.

You don't want to smile. He's so abrasive at times, so frustrating. You wonder how you ended up here; eyes full of adoration as you nod. "Alright then, Prince Charming."

You lift your leg just a little bit, but Jungkook knows your body, so doesn't give it a second thought as he reaches down to leverage it up. He strokes at your ankle, the heel of your foot, the arch. Smiles to himself when you shudder a little when his fingers ghost across the tiny ticklish section.

"Don't," you smile. "I'll fall."

He just shrugs. "I'll catch you."

That's the thing about Jungkook; he always does. Trusty, dependable, reliable. 

Sure, maybe occasionally he would be the one to tie your laces, but he would always catch you.

You've no laces on now. Any falling? All of your own doing.

Jungkook doesn't let the sentiment linger. Asks, "Something blue?"

You look down at him as he slides the second shoe onto your other foot, and wonder if showing him really will be pushing your luck - but hey.

He's already seen the bride.

What harm would it do if he sees a little more?

He holds on to your ankle for longer than he really should. Strokes his thumb across the top of your foot. Smiles. You press the pad of your now-heeled foot into the tiny space between his spread legs, keeping it elevated, and give him a look that grants him permission to explore.

Both of his hands stroke up your raised leg, smooth and silky, the fabric of your dress moving to reveal what's hidden beneath. He reaches your knee. Leans forward a little. Presses those lips you know so well against your skin. Keeps stroking upwards, hands spreading across your thighs before reaching a roadblock. Chiffon and lace intertwined, a baby blue garter is hooked around your leg.

Jungkook's lips trail from the top of your knee to just shy of the material that stopped him from venturing further.

"Something blue," you whisper.

He nods. Lets his nose rest against it. You've sprayed it with your perfume. He fucking loves your perfume. You've been wearing the same one since he met you, and it always gets him a little heated at times he shouldn't be. 

Isn't his fault though. He thinks you conditioned him. 

And yeah, maybe you had sprayed it in his car vents on more than one occasion, and maybe you had deliberately layered a pheromone-infused oil beneath it that entire first summer. Not your fault he happened to like it a little too much. Not his fault the scent always takes him back to those stolen moments with you.

Jungkook's teeth sink into the material. Draw it back. Let it ping against your skin.

"Kook," you whisper, as if your hands aren't in his hair.

His hands push further up your legs. Both of them, now. They reveal the lacey white underwear you purchased especially for the big event. It's a matching set.

"Thank God it's not a Church wedding," he husks, a sigh exhaling. His breath tantalisingly chills your now-wet folds. So inconvenient. "You'd burn the second you stepped inside."

Jungkook's lips trail further. Leave little evidence. He's learned how to do that over the years. Has left no traces of himself, well, ever.

There's hustle and bustle in the garden out of the rear window. A traditional-style wooden screen preserves your dignity; hides your Gyeongsang-pa goonie from sight.

The venue wasn't your choice. It's Gyeongsang territory, for a start. Your father had said it would be good. Would help with the treaty. Very little about your 'party' has been planned by you. Like most of your life, your father has an iron vice on proceedings.

Your underwear was the one thing you had total control over. Had even considered wearing none at all, as a bit of a 'fuck you'.

Jungkook pauses. Takes in the sight of you. Grips the flesh of your upper thighs. Curses to himself. 

It feels like he's staring at your lace-covered cunt for an eternity before his lips finally press against it. Your grip in his hair tightens.

You'll need to change your underwear before you walk down the aisle. That's fine. This underwear was never intended for anything other than this, regardless.

Because while yes, the groom shouldn't see the bride ahead of the ceremony, it's not like that matters here. Jungkook was always going to see you before the wedding.

His lips are slow as he withdraws, and simply says, "Something borrowed."

The implication is heavy; heart-stopping. Cataclysmic.

"By you?" You whisper, as his deep dark eyes meet yours.

He looks so pretty in defeat. It pains you - but you both know this is the least painful outcome for you both.

Jungkook shakes his head. Let your dress gather by the floor. Smooths it over. Reclines into his chair.

"By Min fuckin' Yoongi."

Neither of you speak for a moment. Hearing his name, especially uttered from Jungkook's lips, makes your blood run cold. For so long, you've avoided the topic.

It's impossible, now.

See, it doesn't matter if Jungkook sees you before the ceremony.

He's not your groom.

Yoongi is.

He's your counterpart; the son of the Gyeongsang-pa King. A marriage born out of a sacred treaty between the gangs; the promise that together they'll obliterate Sudogwon's unruly mobs that have been making their way south in recent years.

"It's not too late," Jungkook whispers.

But it is, and you both know it. You've come too far to back out now.

Negotiations have been made. Peace treaties signed. Deals across clans finalised.

You're Honam's Princess, but one day you'll be Gyeongsang-pa's Queen.

Jungkook will only ever be a pauper chasing after the big boys.

So you'll say your vows and exchange your rings, and Jungkook won't object.

He'll sit quietly, like a good boy should, and watch you seal your fate.

Will watch Min Yoongi slide a wedding band onto your ring finger.

Will smile to himself when notices your engagement ring holding it in place a few months from now.

Will remind himself of the old tales that go hand in hand with opal engagement rings. If the legends are anything to go by, you'll be a widow within four years. He can wait that long. Has waited far longer, already.

And if, by four years, his time still hasn't come?

Kings can be overthrown. Jungkook is as Jopok as they come. He'll fight dirty.

For you?

He thinks he'll fight to the death.

"You're too good for Gyeongsang," he tells you, neck stretched, the crown of his head resting between his shoulder blades. You're scratching at his hair, looking at him.

With a smile, you shrug. "I'll still be Honam. For you, I'll be Honam."

Jungkook nods. Closes his eyes. Leans into your touch.

"My Honam girl," he says quietly, and it makes you wish that you had just run away with him that very first summer. You'd suggested it after you first thought you had lost your necklace. Thought it would be the only way to keep one another safe - until Jungkook found it between the seats.

You'd thanked the God that you don't believe in at the time. Clutched the necklace over your heart, head tipped to the heavens, all while Jungkook looked only at you. Lucky, he'd said, unaware that it was the worst possible outcome for you both.

You should've run.

Should've fuckin' run.

"Go," you whisper, knowing it's too late for any of that now. "We've got a party to attend, and you can't show up in a pair of sweats."

He likes that you don't call it a wedding, either. Nods. Also knows he can't be caught sneaking from your room. There'd be hell to pay.

Jungkook gets to his feet. Kisses your cheek. Tell you how pretty you look. Slowly walks to the door, then turns to look at you one final time. Spares you from a final remark that could make you feel even worse about the situation.

"Kook?" You call, just because you can't bear to let him leave. Not yet. It's too soon.

He hums a response. Doesn't open the door just yet. Waits for you to speak.

"I wish we never met."

Jungkook looks at his feet. Smiles. Nods. 

"Me, too, babe."  And then, just because he needs it to be known, "I love you."

You don't turn to face him.

"I love you, too."

bitchin’ || (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 4.8k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: multiple smut scenes, science talk, banter, jealousy, alcohol & LOTS of colorful 80s slang lmao

A/N: Bitchin’ is a multichapter fic, surprise!! This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness and helping me with Yara’s character overall.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

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PART ONE

12:16 pm.

The time on the clock was glaring at you, a silent caution that today’s lab was going to totally suck.

You could feel irritation start to eat away at you. You and your best friend, Yara, had a deal. She would show up to the dissection today and, in exchange, you would gladly do all the work. But given that class would start in four minutes, you had a sneaking suspicion that Yara was going to in fact skip class after all.

You let your chin sink down into the comfort of your open palm, eyes flickering once again towards the black and white clock that was perched up above the classroom’s blackboard. Usually, you could hear each small tick of time, but seeing as this lab was more exciting, every student in the room was currently chatting amongst their peers, covering the clock’s sound.

You considered for a moment making conversation with your professor. That idea was quickly squashed once you realized that he too was preoccupied – his attention set on the clock as well, allowing the minute hand to make its final journey before beginning the class.

Suddenly, you realized that not only had Yara left you alone, but she had also left you without a partner to do the dissection. You glanced around the room, frowning as you saw that every other table was evenly numbered, meaning you would be forced to join a random pair to make a group of three.

Wicked.

“Good afternoon, everyone.” Mr. Kim began, pausing to take a swig from his coffee mug. “I hope everyone read the email I sent out yesterday in regards to proper attire. If anyone isn’t wearing actual shoes, then I suggest you beat it unless you’re particularly amped at the idea of losing a toe when someone accidentally drops their scalpel.”

A few isolated giggles rang out, but no one made any move to leave.

“No one? Radical. Feet are gross anyway–”

The sound of the classroom door suddenly being pushed open stole away everyone’s attention. The late boy that walked in froze momentarily, clearly not expecting all eyes to fall onto him, but quickly regained his composure as he flashed a smile.

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rid my dear if you’re not too busy, and still open for some drabbles, I have a request. All these amc on ry has me feeling soft and gushy, so my request is ry!tae and a!oc on their wedding night 🥹❤️🥰💍💐👀

fic: ruin you and ruined pairing: taehyung x reader (a!oc) genre: established relationship; pure fluff and smut warnings: confessions and a lot of love :(, they're simps for each other, bit of teasing, wedding talk; explicit sexual content: fingering, oral (f.), doggy and missionary <3, spit stuff, brief masturbation, biting (surprise), dom and big dick!tae (surprise pt2.), one pussy slap, he likes her ass, praising, so many petnames, he's actually SOOO fkn sweet :(, unprotected sex (condoms are cool), manhandling, multiple orgasms, lmk if i forgot smth <3 wc: 3k (u don't understand how much i miss them ok) a/n: i've not been feeling so well lately, so i was gonna say no to this request – but this ask stirred something in me, and now i miss them even more :') it's far from perfect, but i hope u still like it hehe i even made a banner !! :D lmk what u think <3 a/n2: the drabble belongs to my ruin you series (linked above), but if u'd like to read it as a standalone, that's totally possible, too! those are just newlyweds very very much in love 🥺

–

ask my character! (no drabble requests anymore, please!) <3

–

The sly smirk he shoots down to your awaiting body will never not feel new to you.

He towers above you, veined hands under his neck. His fingers slowly work at the buttons that yet keep his skin hidden, and your blood boils. Your heart vibrates. Your eyes dart back and forth between his gaze and his ring finger, now decorated with eternity.

With his shirt down and the melanin popping, he hastily removes his slacks; danger fills his words when his knees hit the mattress and he says, “You looked so gorgeous today.” You hold your breath, shifting back on the bed. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

“Liar. You were too busy admiring the castle grounds and the fairy lights.”

Your back hits the headboard of the bed, but you don’t remain in the position for long. His strong grip settles around your already bare thighs, pulling you down the bed until you’re flat underneath him.

Drawing closer, he breathes against your skin, hands crawling up from your legs to your tummy and then to your breasts. He’s an enchantment, every single time… and despite the years you spent together, tangled up in your room, you don’t know how your heart will handle his unending affection.

You’re officially his now, aren’t you? Officially officially.

“You loved the lights and the flowers just as much, though, didn’t you?” he asks whenever his lips aren’t kissing down your neck and shoulders.

“I did…” you mumble, focusing on breathing, “didn’t expect anything else from us.”

“It was your idea.”

“No regrets.”

“No,” he places a hand on your cheek, brushing back your hair, “fuck no. Never any regrets.”

Taehyung is impatient today – and that says a lot, considering how he’s still moving slowly, carefully. The hour-long pleasure that usually keeps you awake at night falls away this time; his mouth journeys down your body and to your panties right away.

Wet kisses call goosebumps to the surface of your skin; he moans when you do. His fingers tug at the straps of your bra, pulling it down and freeing your perked nipples. The gust of wind through the open window makes you shiver.

“Today was really fucking long,” you murmur, whimpering when he bites your sides. “Fuck, I—”

“Yes. Yeah, what is it?”

“Can you hurry up?”

“You’re flattering me,” he laughs, hands on your hips as his face settles between your spread legs. “On our first day as a married couple, too.”

“Me telling you to hurry up is flattery to you?”

“Is it not?” He plays around the hem of your panties, and when his fingertips graze the spot near your clit, you almost shut your legs close. “You think hearing you beg for dick isn’t flattery?”

“Not begging…” you insist, though the both of you know just how fast he affects your mind. “Just—”

He slaps your pussy with a layer still inbetween; you yelp, looking down at him with furrowed eyebrows as he says, “I missed this.”

“It’s just been two days.”

“So? I miss you all the damn time.”

“Simp.”

“‘Kay,” he only voices before he buries his nose and mouth in your panties.

He inhales, lips toying with the fabric. Then, his tongue darts out, and you feel it subtly, slowly; your body reacts, and that’s all he wants.

Looking up at you, he finds your eyes closed in delight and lust. He dives in again – and this time, he flattens his tongue over your pussy, the material of your panties harsh against the wet muscle. You squirm, groaning, and your hands rush to his dark hair.

It’s still somewhat hard from the gel his tresses got styled with, but when you look at him, the damn loose strands send you into an endless spiral of craze.

“Taehyung—”

“Mmmh.”

His movements become more urgent; soon, he’s making out with your clothed cunt, nails digging into your legs and hips, and you squirm in his grip. Your reaction sends blood straight from his head to his cock, and when impatience wins once and for all, his face shoots up.

Your limbs are shivering already, your nipples impossibly hard. And with the look you wear, he can’t help but feel his underwear tighten. Nearly ripping your panties off of you, he throws them on the ground before finding his way back home between your thighs.

He doesn’t take a moment or two to prepare you for what’s to come; instead, he pushes your legs back immediately, starting to eat you out like a man starved. His tongue and lips feel soft against your pussy, and he keeps changing the pace.

From fast flicks to slow kisses, he doesn’t leave a spot of you untouched. His mouth glistens from your slick – you can see it even from here – and his hair tickles your pelvis. Nether lips spread, he brings a finger to your entrance, and when he teases it with circling motions, you shut your legs around his ears again.

“Fuck,” he says when he emerges anew for a breath of air. “One more time and I’ll leave you high and dry on your wedding night.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He smirks. “I wouldn’t, you’re right,” the shake and tilt of his head remind you of the devil; he will eat you alive, you know it, “but don’t you wanna come as many times as possible, baby?”

“Now th–that you say it…” you breathe out when he soothes the crescent moons his nails dug into your skin. “But hurry. Please.”

“‘Yeah, babe.” Taehyung’s finger pushes in between your walls, and your eyes roll back at the pleasant intrusion. “No need to worry at all.”

And then, he’s tongueing at your clit. Drawing patterns, watching you leak, his fingers drenched in arousal to their knuckles. He fucks into you slowly at first before he increases his pace, and with the tension already present in your tummy since dinner, you let go with a snap.

“Ohhhh, you— you fucking demon, I—” is all you manage.

He licks you through your high; you feel the smile against your skin. You might’ve remarked something snarky if he wasn’t robbing every little piece of your sanity.

Cautiously, he watches your expression, a deep crease between your eyebrows that relaxes bit by bit. You look drowsy, kind of hazy – the way you always do when an orgasm shakes your body.

“Baby,” he whispers innocently, and you almost scoff; though your reaction dies immediately when he adds, “Turn around.”

“Huh?”

Taehyung laughs, kissing your cheek, your nose, your forehead before he teases, “You really can’t think anymore, can you?” You let out a small snicker, shaking your head no. “Turn around for me.”

You attempt your best to do a 180, and his hands aid you, flipping you over before he lifts your hips. Balancing your body on your underarms, you throw the hair out of your face, and when you glance back a few seconds later, he’s… fully naked.

Pumping his cock.

Hissing, biting his lip. His jaw is clenched and sharp – you want it to cut you open.

You push your body back, wiggling your ass, but Taehyung’s free hand stops you in your tracks when he grabs a handful of your bum and squeezes hard. You let out a quiet vocal, and he says, “You wanna play with my sanity like that?”

“It’s what I’ll be doing the rest of my life, babe.”

“Good one,” he says, albeit not without a tsk and a roll of his eyes. You don’t see his pupils anymore – but you’re sure he did just that.

You feel the mattress shift when he moves closer; his cock rests between your ass cheeks, moving slowly. Leaking precum sticks hot against your skin, and he leans forwards until his chest almost touches your back.

“Here,” he voices, bringing his fingers to your mouth. “Need a good image of what you can do.”

You want to tell him that he knows exactly what you can do – pictures of his eyes rolled back, his cock throbbing in your mouth, your own eyes watering flash across your mind. The way he grunts and groans when he comes in your throat, his voice as deep as the ocean.

Fuck.

Words die on your tongue when he pushes the digits he fucked you with between your lips. It’s the same as always for you, neutral; your arousal awakens nothing in you. But you know he likes your fragrance, your taste, that it drives him crazy to feel you around him anyhow.

Like now.

You swirl your tongue around his fingers, bobbing your head back and forth, eyelids shut as he moans. You imagine that he’s thrown his head back; feel how rockhard he is for you.

His cock shifts down and prods your entrance – you think he’ll push in when you expect it the least. But instead, he removes his fingers from your mouth and says, “Spit on it.”

Offering his palm, he breathes in deeply again, and you land a blob of spit on his hand before it vanishes from your sight. Craning your neck again, you watch as he spreads it around his dick; veins pulsate along his curved length, and you drool at the size, at the sheer delicacy that’ll ruin you all night.

And then, he moves on the bed again, and you avert your gaze, preparing your body for what’s to come.

Wet and filthy, his cock slides in. A loud mewl of his name falls out of you, and your upper body threatens to drop. He fills you up slowly, knowing you need a moment to adjust to him; and once he’s sheathed himself entirely inside you, he asks, “All good, my love?”

“I’m okay,” you assure, your head spinning, “go ahead. Please.”

And so he does.

Starts fucking into you gently, his hips moving in circles. He watches the way his cock keeps disappearing inside you; listens to the sounds that tumble out of you constantly; sees it when you grab the sheets above your head.

“Can I go—”

“Yeah,” you say, already aware of what he’s going to ask, “harder… faster.”

“Okay. Okay, shit.” He pauses, taking the moment to ram into you hard. “Are you even real? Gonna break the bed, I sw— swear.”

He would. It’s not like he has never torn up the pillows in your bedroom. But if he does it here, the hotel staff might complain, so he better practice control tonight.

Even if you don’t want him to.

Taehyung used to tell you how his biggest flex in bed was composure. How he always knew what he was doing, every move calculated – and how all of this broke once he met you. You’re a fog, he always says. You don’t allow a clear mind… don’t allow calculations.

And you notice it in the way his hips snap against yours; the way he forgets the world around him. You jolt forwards, your legs giving in. But the weakness of your limbs doesn’t discourage him; instead, he falls onto you, careful to not crush you under his weight.

Flat on your tummy, you’re caged between the bed and him, raising your arms higher. And before you know it, his hands have wandered from your waist to your wrists, pinning them down on each side of the pillow.

His cock, impossibly solid and wet, fucks you insane – your thoughts are scattered when the curve of it hits an especially sensitive patch inside you.

And he… not even he can believe that you’re real. His thrusts push your ass upwards, both your bodies sweaty; he loves how you feel wrapped around his thick cock. So he lunges in harder.

You nearly scream, “Taehyung—” Your heart thumps wildly, and his teeth nibble at the shell of your ear, his breathing shallow and irregular against you. “Taehyung, fuck, I…”

“Talk to me. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I love you… so— so fucking much.”

You do.

You do, right?

And suddenly… something seems to change in the atmosphere.

Your words trigger something in his heart. Something deeply anchored, yet easy to grasp. The wild hammering of his hips calms down, and the firm grip around your wrists loosens.

“Baby,” he whispers, and you hum, feeble in his presence. “I’m sorry, but… can you— can you turn around again?” You hum again, and he adds, “Wanna see you.”

So you do.

Slowly, with sugar and honey in your eyes. No matter how lewd your actions, your eyes are always deep and dreamy. He thinks he sees your soul through them – shiny and bright, like no one else’s ever.

God, he’s in love with you.

There can’t be a day without you anymore. By the laws of fate and love, there can’t be.

With the tip of his member spreading your pussy again, one of his hands wanders to the nape of your neck. His fingers bury in your hair, his lips grazing yours. He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time – sighs along with you when his dick has vanished inside you again.

And then, before he starts moving once more, he admits, “I love you, too. I love you so much, it hurts.”

It hurts.

Every moment without him. You hate being dependent on people – but Taehyung has a hold on your heart that will keep suffocating you in the most delightful way. If that’s the silent ache love and eternal fondness bring, you don’t ever want your heart to stop bleeding.

Your moans, your whimpers, the crying out of each other’s names continue. The yearning, despite the closeness, doesn’t end. But his ministrations are slower now, his eyes lost in you. He doesn’t stop looking at you.

Only fucks you deeper, his pelvis brushing against your clit, untying the second knot that forms in your stomach. And he says, “I can’t… I cannot believe this.”

“What, baby?” you whisper, pushing the stray hair behind his ears.

“That this is happening…” You know immediately what he means. Not sex. Not intimate moments. You’ve had so many of those. But. “My wife. Aren’t you? My—” A sharp breath falls out of his mouth. “My baby, right? My wife.”

You might tear up… here and now. Your eyes are already welling up, glassier than his – and when he buries his face in your neck, kissing your flesh, you throw your head back. Eyelids flutter shut. The one tear priorly attempting to escape rolls out of your eyes and down your temples.

And when the contact of your skins keeps toying with your clit, you let go again at one particularly effective thrust. His name is all you seem to know – the rest of human language doesn’t make any sense anymore. Your voice breaks, your arms around him so tight that your muscles hurt.

Your husband.

Kim Taehyung.

Kim Taehyung – a man you’ll keep forever. His thoughts, his smile, his touch. A future with him and mini hims.

Yours.

“Fuck, I’m gonna…” he manages, but you barely understand. “I love you. Love you. You feel so good, f—”

You press your lips together, still keening – and when he muffles his sounds against your clavicles, you know he’s close, too. He moves inside you once. Twice. And half a minute later, he’s spilling inside you, his seed hot and plenty.

A palm of yours slides down his body, to the firm muscles of his ass. He raises his head, madness in his eyes; his hair is dishevelled, in urgent need of a wash. But you think he’s prettiest like that.

Drowning in you. Unaware of his surroundings.

Taehyung is in love with you, and you will keep repeating it to yourself until you understand this fact’s reality one day.

“You’re perfect,” he then says.

His cock softens, the sheets damp from your sweat and filth – but right now, you couldn’t care less. His eyes pull you in too much, hypnotising; who could care about anything other than him?

“You are,” you tell him, and he smiles. Pecks your nose, and then stares at you with a blush dusting his cheeks. “And today was perfect, too.”

“It was, yeah? I’m happy if you’re happy, then.”

“You know what I loved the most?”

“Mmh… Slow dancing.”

Your eyes blow wide along with your mouth, and you tilt your head in the pretty way he adores as you say, “How did you know?”

“I saw it the moment we started. I knew you loved it,” he pauses, licks his lips, and you look at his mole for a moment, “but also because it was my favourite part, too.”

You nod slowly, pulling him into you a bit more. “We should slow dance more often, I think.”

“We’ll do anything you like, okay? We have all the time in the world now.”

Once again, you nod, and your eyes shimmer with purity. You’re indescribable – a wonder of nature. One of Monet’s paintings, right out of his mind, personified.

Taehyung never questions where you were all his life. Never thinks you should’ve crossed paths before. Because recalling his past, he doesn’t reckon he would’ve gotten into your heart this deep with the personality he used to wear.

Love had its time – and when the first tries failed, you appeared with a halo over your head.

It’s perfect. Every moment, every kiss, every fight and every piece of you – perfect.

The corners of his lips drop, his eyes suddenly sober. Worry creeps up your heart, and for a second, you fear he might slip back into the anxious moods that used to plague him. So you ask, “What’s wrong?”

But in reality… he and his heart are calm. Pleasant waves of tenderness swim in his eyes. And then…

Then he says, “You’re the love of my life.”

Your heart stops for a moment.

You take a deep breath; your waterline dampens again.

And he continues, “Don’t you ever dare to leave, okay?”

As if anything was easier than that. A request so obvious that you don’t even need to think twice before you promise, “I’d be an idiot if I did.”

That’s what you vowed at your wedding today. That you’d keep the beats of your hearts synchronised. That you’d never let him feel the absence of your warmth. And that you’d keep your fingers tangled with his.

That you’ve fallen for him once – and that you’ll keep falling for him forever.

–

please lmk what u think and reblog if u liked it 🥺 !!

s is for sexy

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook

Word Count: 1,532

Rating: PG-13

Summary: An accompanying drabble to The Art of War More. This drabble takes place after the events of both TAOM and L is for Lunacy. Jungkook is included in People magazine’s Sexiest Men Alive issue, but you can’t find a copy anywhere.

[ PART OF MY JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY DRABBLE GAME ]

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