#had a nice night though lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyswan · 3 months

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summary: in which the sweet ache of yearning metamorphoses into the art of intimacy and knowing.

idol!jk x reader, est. relationship / fluffy fluff, a dash of angst, explicit content (minors dni!!) / word count: 10.5k

warnings/content: divided into seven parts. it’s like a timeline hehe <3 ; mainly in jk’s pov!! ; underaged drinking (oc is 18 in that part but the legal age of drinking in sk is 19 so!) ; mention of almost? n*des (neither sent by our mcs) ; making out ; thigh grinding ; brief or*l (f. rec + allusions to m. rec) ; mention and allusion to s*x [yesyes it’s the first time] [oc may or may not cry a little too…] ; they have a ‘what if i die before you?’ discourse lmao

playlist! restless - bibi ; lily of the valley - daniel ; who do you love - the black skirts ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande ; snow - josh makazo

> in which masterlist!

note: look at my gorjus ethereal bf !!!! anyway… hi, i’m back ^_^ here’s my not so little offering to those who’s been missing the iw couple <3 as always i’d love to hear your thoughts :") come chat!!

—

I. THE FALLING

“just stay the night.” you blurt out, turning to jungkook to express your worry. “i can’t let you leave right now. it’s not safe.”

his wide eyes scan the headline of the news once more.

heavy snowfall, road accident, several injured… versus staying the night at the apartment of not quite his friend, not quite his lover, for the first time.

he can’t deny that he favors the latter over the former with an explicable feeling rendering him breathless. still, he can’t allow his enthusiasm to cloud his better judgement. he knows he’s still somewhat of a stranger to you. he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome or make you feel uncomfortable in your own space.

“are you sure you’re comfortable with it?”

“sure. should i be worried?“

“no! uhm, i just thought not everyone would be comfortable to have a person they’re not very close with to sleep over.”

you chuckle, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “chill. i have bigger things to be scared of than the guy who just cried with me while watching an anime movie.”

oh… he thought you were too absorbed in wiping your own tears to notice him crying too.

he slumps back on the sofa with a sigh. “i see. i guess we’re left with no choice then.”

“i have an extra toothbrush!”

—

jungkook doesn’t quite understand people’s obsession with his eyes, but getting enamored by the innocence that yours seem to glisten with, he wonders if he is experiencing the same case.

“can you see if this fits you?”

you stand before him with a stack of neatly folded clothes, unraveling a pair of gray sweatpants to hold up infront of him.

“i think… there’s a string? oh, there’s none.”

he chuckles. “you forgot?”

“well, it’s not mine. my ex never came back for his clothes.“ you huff with a roll of your eyes, muttering a silent his loss into the air. “i’ve washed it though! don’t worry! it’s just- you know- sleeping in denim pants is uncomfortable.”

does that mean you still wear the clothes of your exes? this pisses him off for some unknown reason. he would much rather sleep uncomfortably than wear their clothes.

you kindly smile, pushing the black knitted sweater against his chest. “but this is mine. it’s really warm and comfortable!”

but on another note, you’re too sweet and thoughtful. how could he ever say no?

—

the sweatpants is a little loose around his waist. your sweater, however, feels incredibly soft against his skin. as he walks back into the living room, he pulls down his sweater paws and runs his hands across its sleeves. if he had to describe the feeling it evokes, he would say it is very much similar to rolling around on freshly washed and dried bedsheets.

“it’s nice, right?”

he whips his head around upon hearing the sound of your voice. for a quick second, you caress his arm with the back of your hand, and even with the barrier separating your skin from his, the casual touch causes his breath to hitch.

“i finished cleaning the room. i set up a comforter on the floor so you can take the bed.”

“is that so? thank you!”

he zooms past you. you’re left standing alone, blinking in confusion. he is more than happy to welcome himself into your bedroom… so he can slyly steal the bed you prepared for yourself. he slides under the covers, makes himself all cozy with his hands resting on the back of his head as if it’s not a raging winter and he’s lying under the summer sun.

“and what do we have here?”

jungkook cracks one eye open. there you are leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. you raise your eyebrows at him, demanding an answer.

“what?” he smiles childishly. “you’re the one doing me a favor. i’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“how polite. suit yourself, sir.” you shake your head in amusement, smiling.

you enter the room, flicking the lightswitch off and locking the door at the speed of light. without thinking, probably; muscle memory formed by your routine. he is the only thing not a part of it. yet.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

“goodnight.”

he still sees you moving around in the dark. you crouch down beside him and he feels the extra pillow he’s partially crushing under his weight be jerked away all of a sudden.

“i need this one. sorry.” you whisper-shout apologetically. “goodnight! sweet dreams!”

—

jungkook sighs, tired of mindlessly scrolling through social media. his eyes flutter shut as he allows his phone to collapse on his chest. he is yet to even figure out if going to work later would be possible because of the blocked roads. he has gotten enough earful about not heading straight to the dorm and he cannot risk any more. because then, he would have to see less of you.

he sneakily opens his eyes, craning his head to the side to steal a glance of you, but he finds that you’ve already fallen asleep on your textbook and he’s unable to look away again. bathed in the warm light of the lampshade on your bedside, he has never seen you more peaceful. he learns with hard evidence that you’re a side sleeper, curled up underneath the blanket and cutely snuggled against the pillow you took from him.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been admiring you, but he knows he doesn’t want you to think of him as a creep. you stir in your sleep and his hand swiftly flies to his phone. pretending to be absorbed in reading the first tweet he comes across, he tries taking another subtle glimpse of you.

it’s as if he’s been caught and punished.

he flinches.

your textbook collides with the floor, landing only inches next to his pillow. he begins sweating. he could’ve easily gotten a concussion at best, death at worst.

he sits up with his elbows anchoring him, poking around to investigate the cause of the fall. admittedly, he’s a little sad to see your back now facing him.

“shit, what am i doing?” he roughly rubs his face to knock some sense back into him.

he needs to get some sleep. yeah, that’s it. nothing more.

he picks up your textbook, taking it upon himself to bring it over to your desk. on his way back, he also decides to to turn off the lampshade.

his finger freezes on the button, however. he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to silence the giggle that threatens to escape him— so fucking endeared to discover that you’ve kicked off your blanket and rolled over to your other side along with the pillow, your thigh carelessly slumped over it.

he tucks himself back into bed, heart feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“so, so adorable.”

the words escape him without thought; the smile on his face ever-present even as he drifts off to dreamland.

—

II. ALLOW ME TO LINGER BY THE DOOR

“hey, it’s getting late. shouldn’t you be heading home by now?”

you sit beside jungkook on the sofa after a phone call, and his round eyes grow twice their size when you steal the iced tea from his grasp, nonchalant as your lips wrap around the same red straw his have been only seconds ago.

he awkwardly clears his throat, perhaps to mask his loud heartbeat. “is your friend okay?”

“oh, she’ll be fine. it’s her fault so i can’t do much for her this time.” you shrug, picking up your chopsticks as you eye the last dumpling in the bowl. “still hate that guy, though.”

“the one you think is lying about being rich?”

“i don’t know much about real ones, but i’m pretty sure i’ve seen enough fake diamonds!”

that seems to hits the right spot to elevate your mood. you hum happily as you chew, collapsing on the cushions and looking straight ahead at the television screen.

“sorry about that. you must be bored and tired by now.”

“about that…” jungkook swallows his nervousness. he rests his arm on top of the sofa, just to act cool. he’s so close to you yet still so distant. “i’m dead tired from filming today. i’ve been up since four in the morning. would it be too much trouble if i spend the night again?”

“i should be the one asking you that. why do you like this trashy place way more than i do?” you shake your head, wiping your mouth with a paper napkin. “i’ll go fix up so you can rest then. you’re lucky minji didn’t claim the bed first.”

fuck, he was supposed to get kicked out?

“wait! do you need a change of clothes?”

“there’s no need!” he replies a little too quickly. if he has to wear the clothes of another one of your exes, he might end up on the news for setting himself on fire. “i have extras in my backpack i didn’t got to wear today.”

“oh, okay.” you flash him a smile before disappearing into the bedroom.

yeah, how convenient.

he exhales through his mouth.

when did he start lying? his mother would be very disappointed in him. but on the other hand, his father would explode in boisterous laughter and pat him on the back. nevermind… that just makes it worse.

“guess i’m going to hell!” he shrugs, wearing a smile that is rather too jubilant.

he grabs his backpack on the floor and heads to the bathroom; your home is another home away from home.

—

jungkook is exhausted from dance practice. he must’ve exerted himself too hard again without realizing it. for the third time this week, he’s attaching pain relief patches to his neck and shoulders, shirt pulled to the side as to expose the area. normally, he’d just take it off without care, but he’s in a different setting. while he’s pretty confident with the current condition of his body, it would be rude to strip out of nowhere. and you make him nervous. would he fluster you or would you fluster him? he’s not prepared to find out yet.

“are you okay?”

his movements from below capture your attention amidst catching up to the events in your group chats.

“i’m okay, just a little sore. don’t worry!” he waves off your concern with a scrunch of his nose. “i also fell asleep in the car earlier so…”

“i can give you a massage. if you want.”

“no, it’s fine.” even though the offer sounds extremely tempting, especially coming from you. “i know you’re tired too.”

“hm, your loss. i’m kind of an expert at it.”

he squints his eyes at you. “really?”

“you don’t believe me?”

you sit up on the bed with an offended gasp, and he laughs at how you quite literally rose up to the challenge.

“we do have actual experts come in and take care of us too, you know that?”

“excuse you, i’m an actual expert! i have more than a decade of experience!”

he isn’t surprised to witness you climb down immediately afterwards, sitting behind him with your hands already on his shoulders.

“hmm, my dad worked at construction sites. my mom had a desk job. this- this was my job.” your fingers begin pressing down as if you’re assessing him, touching the bare skin of his still exposed shoulder. “got paid with extra allowance. making money was easy back then.”

“you’re so adorab- ah, ah, ah-” his sentence is cut short by his own self when you apply pressure on a big knot, gently massaging it in small circles to loosen the tightly wound muscle fibers. “fuck, it hurts… yeah, that’s good. don’t stop.”

he hears you snort, feels your forehead collapse on his back as vibrant giggles rack your body. a blush of red creeps up to his cheeks and he’s thankful that you can’t see his face.

he laughs along, belly aching. “okay, okay- i heard it! i should keep my mouth shut!”

“no no no, i won’t laugh anymore!”

“you’re still doing it right now!”

“i’ll stop!” you sniffle, laughed to the point of tears. you squeeze his shoulders. ��just relax! you’re so tense here, see? no wonder it hurts.”

there’s no denying that his body is pushed to its limits everyday; he has grown accustomed of this kind of lifestyle and he doesn’t complain. you’re making him want to do it all the time, though. if it means getting pampered like this? hell yeah.

“it hurts here too. over- over here-” he reaches a hand to his back, patting the area that has been bothering him all day. “this part. will you make it go away, please?”

“here? your shoulder blade?”

“yes!”

“okay. tell me if i should go gentler or harder. i don’t want to hurt you.”

it’s his turn to snort. he shortly learns that was not a smart move.

“ah, ah, ah-” you pull at his ear and this time he moans in pain. “oh, come on! you gave that one away!”

“shut up! you’re not allowed to laugh too!”

—

he tries not to create more embarrassing sounds. at some point he begun to busy himself with his phone, but to no avail, there are occasional moans and grunts he can’t bite down because you weren’t lying about being a pretty damn good masseur. and then he does it on purpose once, just to hear you laugh again, because his being already feels a million times lighter and you show no signs of exhaustion or boredom.

“you have a mole here,” you casually observe. he feels a light touch on the side of his neck and the butterflies in his stomach become untamed. “it’s sexy.”

he blushes, caught off guard by the compliment. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” you hum.

the minutes pass by and he is no longer faking silence, however. all he can think about now is how he wishes that he was lying down for this. how long has it been? you’ve been definitely at it for almost an hour. he yawns, eyelids fighting to stay open but failing miserably.

“hey, wipe your drool.”

he blinks. your beautiful face greets him— for a second, he’s convinced that he has begun dreaming. with a mischievous grin, you lift the collar of his shirt to wipe the corners of his lips, and in a state of near delirium, he cackles.

“seriously, thank you… i-i don’t even know what to say. i really needed that.” he sighs, carelessly rubbing his heavy eyes. “i’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow. how about that?”

“sounds good. now go to sleep.” you pat his back before rising on your feet. “your head kept on dropping and i felt bad.”

“that happens a lot.”

“well, it’s bad for your neck. keep doing it and i’ll get more free dinners.”

the unmistakable sound of a kiss that follows, it suspiciously matches with the warmth that lingers on his cheek.

“goodnight!”

“goodnight…” he only manages to mumble.

his mind has gone off to space. you tuck yourself into your bed after turning off the lampshade while jungkook feels like he just got blasted to the moon. he needs to get out of here. STAT.

“i’ll go drink some water. do you want me to get you a glass?”

“no, i’m fine.”

he makes out your figure shuffling in the dark, snuggled closely to a pillow.

he nods, which you probably didn’t even see. he steps out of the room as quietly as possible, slowly closing the door as to produce the smallest click. he pads to the kitchen still feeling light, almost like he’s walking on a path made out of clouds. he pours himself a glass of cold water from the fridge, chugs it down to the very last drop.

he licks his lips as he sets down the glass on the counter. he sighs deeply. he can still feel the outline of your lips, sticky lip balm printed on his skin. is it normal that he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off?

“totally worth going to hell for.” he muses, unaware of the smirk that has started playing on his lips.

he briskly washes the glass at the sink, wiping it dry with a towel before deposting it back into the rack.

as expected, you’ve already fallen asleep by the time that he returns. the light from the hallway casts a glow over your face and it’s a sight that is painfully intimate in its own peculiar way.

he can’t put a name to it, but whatever this feeling is, he likes it and he wants it to last.

and so, he lingers by the door for a few seconds more.

—

III. THE YEARNING

jungkook hisses your name with yet another curse, heart so close to jumping out of his chest. when you were on the phone incoherently begging him to take you home from the club, he expected to carry out a passed out person from his car to their apartment floor, which he found no problem with aside from the possibility of having to deal with them throwing up.

instead, he is struck by an unusual combination of amusement and distress. he has been running around trying to capture you as you spend your final bursts of energy ringing strangers’ doorbells. your exhilarated laughter echoes throughout the hallways. he must confess that he was laughing along with you the first time… until it started to get a little bit out of hand.

if someone recognizes him by chance, he would be beyond fucked.

“don’t- don't do it! stop it! please!” he finally manages to seize your wrist before it can reach another, forced to wrap his arms around your torso so you won’t escape from him again. “are you crazy? it’s 3am! people are sleeping!”

“that’s the point.” you mewl, looking back to him with a childish pout underneath the hood of your coat. “why are they sleeping? it’s when the ghosts come out. does no one ever think about ghosts’ feelings? because i do! if i were a ghost, i’d be lonely and crying right now!”

oh my god, what is happening?

“so let’s invite them and everyone for more drinks!” you jump up and down, his secure hold doesn’t hold a candle to your hypernese. “jungkook, i want to drink more! more more more! buy me!”

unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on your cuteness. he hears a door click from behind and his instincts instantaneously kick in. oh shit, you actually fucking woke someone up. he sweeps you off your feet, clasping a hand over your mouth to mute your angry protests. he turns at a corner, trapping you against the wall.

a deep and manly voice fills the silence. “hello? who’s there?”

two pairs of eyes widen, staring at each other as if they can read minds through them. he notices the unsteady rise and fall of your chest; your heart must be beating as fast as his. he has to pull down his black mask to be able to breathe.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he grumbles with a pointed look.

when you smile, he perceives it first through the palm of his hand before it reaches your eyes. only then does he fully register the dangerously close proximity between you.

dangerous because he wants to kiss you.

dangerous because you’d dare him to do it and his self-control has been reduced to a million cracks.

“ah, this prank again! fucking teenagers!”

and the door slams shut. you both flinch.

“that guy has a fridge full of beer!”

you are vexed, voice muffled but still clearly loud. you harshly paw at his forearm to remove his hand, and your pout finally comes into view.

“no, you’ve had enough! seriously, what am i going to do with you? huh? you shouldn’t even be drinking at all.” he blows a loud breath, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “how did you even get in the club? fake id? you have it, don’t you?”

you rush to defend yourself. “i’m only younger by a year and i don’t look like it! as if they actually care in those places. they only want money.”

he begins to question if the bloodshot of your eyes is solely because of the alcohol or you’re also on the verge of tears.

“why? are you mad at me?”

“no, i’m not mad. should i be?”

“…i don’t know. why do you even care about things like that? you’re not my boyfriend or my parent so i don’t need to explain myself to you.” you angrily ramble, wriggling out of the tight spot he had you trapped in.

and that felt like a fucking dagger to the heart.

“you know what? i-i can do this. i can take care of myself, so go home.”

“____, don’t be like this, please. you’re drunk.”

“i’m not drunk, just tipsy! you can go home!”

he runs after you, but you shrug him off and continue walking away, perhaps a little too fast. he curses himself when he catches up to you seconds too late, witnessing you fall over to the floor with a thump and a whimper.

“are you okay?! where does it hurt?!”

you shake your head profusely, but your hands gripping your ankle gives away the answers. he doesn’t press you further. without another word, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other under your back, swooping you from the floor. he stands up straight, adjusts your position slightly, and walks the path you attempted to travel alone in your intoxicated state.

perhaps he is mad. he went and abandoned his rest time when you said that you needed him, only for you to rudely send him home. he has the right to be mad, even just a little bit, despite the fact that he isn’t your boyfriend, right?

not that it matters.

you cling to his neck and it all melts away.

he glances down at you. a soft smile has replaced your frown. “oh, so now you’re happy again?”

“yes,” you tilt your head. “feels like i’m floating.”

“where’s your key?”

“huh?”

“your key-”

“oh!”

you dig out the item from the pocket of your coat. you proudly dangle it infront of his face along with the colorful keychains attached to it; the bear was gifted by yours truly from japan. he totally forgot that it existed. the last time he saw it was when he tossed it in the paper bag he gave you.

he’s not even your boyfriend. the two of you know that doesn’t make sense anymore.

—

after he sets you down on the sofa, he kneels on the floor to remove the heels from your aching feet. he gets the hang of it after unfastening the second strap. while he’s preoccupied, you strip off your coat to combat the increased temperature of your body.

“i need to pee.” you urgently kick off the heels as you rise on your feet.

jungkook looks up and forgets how to breathe. you are irresistibly gorgeous; the cherry red mid-thigh dress you’ve been hiding from him hugs your body so perfectly. he’s ensnared and thoroughly convinced that you’re aware of your power to leave men and women alike sweating and tongue-tied.

goddammit, he is mad. you were at the club looking like this among flashing lights and grinding bodies and he is not your boyfriend.

“doesn’t your ankle hurt?”

“doesn’t matter. i need to pee.”

he clicks his tongue as you limp your way towards the bathroom.

“you’re so hardheaded.”

he lifts up your arm to bring it over his shoulders; he holds your waist to assist you.

“and your heart is so soft.” you giggle, and his world stops when you hold his face… peppering his cheek with an amount of kisses he doesn’t have half the mind to count.

you said you’re not drunk, just tipsy. does that mean you genuinely like him this much and you’ll remember it when you wake up?

dear god, he hopes so.

—

jungkook is supposed to wake up in four hours. however, he’s still wide awake sitting by your pillow, mind completely blank on what he’s supposed to do now that you’re safe and sound. he can’t bring himself to leave just yet. you bump against his knee as you shuffle and squirm, eyes closed but yet to land in the confines of slumber. he can hear your rugged and frustrated breathing, can’t help but to hopelessly adore how pretty you are even with knitted eyebrows and tousled hair.

he likes you so much. he knows it hasn’t been that long since you met but the thought of losing the chance of winning you over makes him want to cry and throw a tantrum. you’re running in his mind day and night. you have permeated all his senses. you charm him with your unapologetic existence and you effortlessly captivate his ungiven affections.

when it comes to love, his passion becomes a weakness.

a whine emits from your parted lips as if you sense that something is wrong. your hands pat around the mattress— searching and searching, until they stumble upon him. you push yourself up, head landing on the pillow, and your arms, they hug him close by his waist. only then do you finally come to a still, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

you are at peace and he is experiencing an emotional turmoil— falling in love. this is simply not fair.

the lines are becoming so blurry. he is losing control of his hands, hyperaware of what he is capable with his possession of them. he strokes your head gently, hair brushing across his palm— this is soothing to him as much as it is you.

this feels right, he thinks. he wants time to stretch from this galaxy to another.

he feels a weak tug at his sweater.

“i’m cold now,” your complaint comes out mumbled against the thick fabric.

next thing he knows you’re pulling him down by his collar, leaving him with no choice but to lie down beside you as to not crush you under his weight. where the hell did you gather the strength to do that?!

he hisses in panic. “yah! what are you doing?”

“i’m cold,” you repeat.

“____, we’re lying down on the blanket. if you can just scoot over for a seco- i’ll take it out. move-”

his attempts on communicating to you only fall on deaf ears. he zips his mouth to admit defeat.

you cling to him for warmth, and jungkook finds himself giving more than that. he volunteers his arm to be your pillow, softly cupping the back of your head as you nuzzle your face on his chest; his other arm wraps around your torso to keep you close. it is quite a tight fit on a single bed— he figures out a lame excuse for later.

now he can say for certain that you’re hearing his heartbeat, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. he also doesn’t mind the scent of alcohol because it’s tragically losing the battle against your sweet perfume. it renders him enchanted. and the dress… that hypnotizing dress. he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the sinful thoughts flooding his imagination.

he didn’t peg you to be the physically affectionate type, but seeing that you can’t sleep without hugging something, someone— he wants to be just the thing that you cherish as your safe haven. he wants this memory to be cute… and romantic. but too much heavy on the romance, you affect his body and heart in ways no one can.

he tries to will his growing erection to ebb away. it’s not an appropriate situation. he likes and respects you too much.

“my makeup…”

you said it so quietly, he almost believed he was making it up in his head.

“what was that?”

“will you- please, will you help me take off my makeup? it’s bothering me.” you make one final request at the depths of drowsiness, speech slurred and stuttered. “the wipes… the drawer behind you.”

he should’ve thought of that. he’s learning. next time, he will.

he settles into his previous position after grabbing the wipes.

“how do i help? is it okay if i d-”

he interrupts his question when he realizes that you’ve finally fallen asleep.

his sigh momentarily fills the defeaning silence of the night. the exhaustion has also begun to take a toll on him. he’s going to have to catch up on sleep during car rides and set breaks. he’s already dreading it as he’s planning around their hectic schedule.

as he wipes off your makeup as carefully as possible, he mutters into the thin air. “you owe me a massage for this.”

—

IV. HAPPINESS OUTSIDE DAYDREAMS

“you’re my boyfriend now and you don’t sleep on the floor anymore. how cute is that?” you happily think out loud, swinging your feet dangling at the edge of the bed. “but if you want to go back to our old ways… my bed is small even for me.”

“no way. are you kidding?!” he jokingly protests in an angry manner. “your bed is perfect.”

jungkook is on cloud nine. it sure does feel good to hear you sound so happy calling him your boyfriend, even more so to reap its special privileges.

“i keep forgetting to ask. which side do you prefer?”

you’re sat facing the door. “i don’t know, but i’m used to sleeping here.”

“alright. i’ll stay here.” he climbs under the covers, spreading his arms once his back hits the mattress. the smirk on his face widens. “come here, baby.”

a grunt slips past his lips when you jump into his arms without warning, eventually falling over to the side when he moves to envelope you in his embrace.

“you’re so warm.” you purr in contentment as you bury your face against his chest. “i love cuddling so much.”

“i’ve noticed,” he replies. he softly squeezes your exposed thigh after you slump your leg over his hip to maximize your comfort. “your pillow must be softer than me though.”

“no, i like you more… cuddling is proven to have health benefits, you know?”

he quirks an eyebrow. “oh really? give me examples.”

“it releases happy chemicals in the brain… it apparently also helps to lower blood pressure and heart rate, and it-” you fail to stifle a sleepy yawn, hands grasping the cloth of his shirt and forming closed fists. “…improves one’s quality of sleep.”

“i can see it’s working well for you.” he chuckles.

“is it for you?”

“mhmm, yes,” he presses his lips to your forehead. “i’m happy. there’s only happy chemicals in my brain right now.”

jungkook means it wholeheartedly and it feels strange. he doesn’t feel happy in this moment alone. this happiness is colossal and there’s not nearly enough hours in a day to take it all in. this happiness will still be here when he wakes up tomorrow, and the day after that. this happiness stays with him even when you’re not physically present. you’ve turned him into an optimistic fool but it’s not always that he experiences an attraction this strong.

he’s smitten and he can’t hide it. the people who are around him everyday sees it on his face; he doesn’t even need to say it out loud. all that corny shenanigans about romance giving you a certain type of glow is apparently true, it turns out.

“kissing is said to have the same effects, actually.”

your coyness captivates him from his thoughts.

he draws back slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes mirroring yours. “where do you learn these things?”

“through reading and experience.” you shrug innocently. “want to test that out too?”

you’re everywhere. he can taste your lips, your tongue; your body wash floods his sense of smell with a sweet and clean scent, plus something else he can’t quite name. he can only it describe as you. your hair is tangled in his fingers and your hands… so delicate and teasing with every touch, it feels like being electrified. it still feels incredibly chilly outside but heat is radiating off his skin. he needs to peel himself off you before he loses his last shred of self-control.

“baby…” he whispers, lips only a couple inches from yours. he takes your hand in a tender hold, placing it over his racing heartbeat. “i’m not sure about this one being good for my health.”

“but it is. you just burnt some calories.” you smile, wiping the sweat that has started to form on his forehead. “should we stop?”

he feels his cheeks become more flushed, but his craving for you has overtaken his shyness. he might as well be drunk; intoxicated by you.

“no.” he refuses, conflicted and almost pained. “i can’t…”

he gets rid of the distance between your lips once more, swallowing the first obscene moan he brings out of you.

—

V. THE SPRING FLOWER IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

although you know they held affection for you, the boys you’ve attracted in your life have made one thing clear: they see you as an object of desire, and you unintentionally play the part well. if you were going to make their wet dreams come true, then you ought to derive pleasure from it as well without shame.

but with jungkook, the tables have turned. you wore the same lipstick from last time to rile him up on purpose, but instead you’re the one stuck trying to recall a time you were this putty in somebody’s hands. you’re not in control— you expect this thought would make you spiral, but it doesn’t.

you stumble inside your apartment making out with your boyfriend and you have an orange azalea tucked behind your ear. his hand is in your mess of a hair and it protects your head from the impact of the wall as your back collides with it. you don’t know if it was on purpose or not but your heart flutters nonetheless. this is sickeningly romantic and you want to drown yourself in it.

“oh, feels good.” his mouth on your neck is addictive, you imagine it would be heavenly on more vulnerable parts of you. your nails harshly dig into his shoulder as he takes his time with every lick, every nip of his teeth— eager to learn more about your body and what makes it weak at the knees.

you tug at his hair with a whisper. “jungkook…”

“mhm? yes, baby?”

you thought you’ve seen and felt enough. you know about lust, but never felt a chemistry this electrifying. there’s an emotion screaming beneath the daze in jungkook’s eyes; it’s always been there, but not this loud. you think if you trust your gut and open yourself up… you might just come to gain an understanding of it.

you bite your bottom lip, behind it a shadow of a smile. “bedroom.”

his restless hands slide down to hook around your thighs, and not long after, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he navigates your apartment blinded by the mutual refusal of your lips to disconnect. you giggle every time he bumps into something and groans. with his fear of accidentally letting you fall felt through his tight grip, you’re the one who kicks the bedroom shut. the sound couldn’t have been louder than the pounding of your heart reaching your own ears.

jungkook is gentle as he lays you down on the bed, but your lack of inhibitions reign over you. you begin unbuttoning his shirt, unconsciously grinding your heat against his thigh as you do so. it catches him by surprise, but then his strong hands find purchase on your waist, and you know he wants this as much as you do.

the kiss is broken up by a moan when his grip falls to your hips, guiding your wild movements in chasing pleasure with a tenderness and sensuality that transforms you into a feverish mess. another gush of arousal ruins your underwear worse. you kiss him again and eventually you lose count of the buttons— patience runs thin and with adrenaline rushing through your veins, you tear his shirt apart.

he hisses. “baby, shit- what did y-”

“shhh,” you place an index finger over his lips.

he chuckles raspily, shaking his head in disbelief. your giggles join him, equally amused with yourself.

it’s still for a few seconds, but you can hear each other breathe in the dark. you’ve seen him naked but his silhouette alone stirs the fuel spreading throughout your body. he’s perfect. your lips reclaim the place of your finger. your hands caress every inch of his skin, every curve of his flesh they can reach. he doesn’t make an effort to hold his noises and it turns you on more, if that is even possible at this point. his muscles continue to tense under your touches, even worse when you find his nipples to tease and play with. he’s perfect.

“it’s my turn.” he tries to say in the middle of the kiss, but you don’t hear a thing until he’s pulling away breathless and you’re whining in disappointment. “let me return the flavor please? i’ve been going crazy thinking about it. fuck, please.”

you sit up on the bed, pushing his naked chest challengingly. “what? you want to eat me out?“

he swallows, wide scandalized eyes failing to escape your keen observation. “i do.”

you watch him watch you strip off your sweater, “really…?” and then unclasp your bra, allowing its straps to provocatively slide down your shoulders.

“ye-yes, really.”

“then what’s stopping you?”

he whines out your name, interrupting himself with his craving for another kiss as he slips off your bra completely. it gets lost on the floor along with your sweater and you smirk deviously against his lips. “you’re testing me like this, huh? you’re so mean.”

you lie on your bed but you feel like you’re on top of the world. jungkook scatters kisses from your neck down to your chest, occasionally licking and biting as if he can’t help but to taste you. he uncovers another ticklish spot along your ribcage, but you bite your lip to control your giggles. instead, you touch his face to subtly guide him away from it.

he nuzzles his cheek against your palm, eyelids fluttering close as he presses a soft kiss to your wrist.

“may i?”

the shape of his lips lingers there. no one has ever kissed your wrist, nor have you ever imagined the first time to take place in bed.

your thumb strokes his cheek tenderly. the silence that follows there after concerns jungkook. he calls out your name, snapping you out of deep thought.

“may i?” he repeats himself.

he is patiently suspended over the waistband of your skirt. ever the gentleman, you half-smile.

“will you fuck me good after?”

the hand on his face sneaks down to pull up the skirt over your stomach; an even tinier piece of fabric covers the most intimate part of your body.

“whatever you want, baby, i will do it.” he promises.

you can hear the smirk in his voice, but you’re unable to form another response as his tongue laves over the lace, the warmth and wetness saturating through and stimulating your clit— once, slowly, and then over and over again.

you gasp, jolting and squirming in pleasure. he only makes it worse when he hums and you feel the vibration against you. you whine and he squeezes the soft flesh of your inner thighs in an attempt soothe you, keep you still, nuzzling his cheek as he meets your heated gaze.

“relax… is my baby always this sensitive?” he places a chaste kiss over your clit, causing your breath to hitch. “‘cause i’ve barely started.”

“jungkook,” you impatiently whine. “why’d you stop? just do it, please- need you.”

you’d wipe off that stupid smirk on his face if only you weren’t so pent up and you didn’t need his tongue.

“wow… didn’t think you’re the type to beg.” he muses, more so talking to himself. “i like it.”

hell no, you’re not.

but finally, he dives in, greedily pulling aside the flimsy material for a real taste of you. instead of a sharp remark, erotic sounds between a moan and a sob emit from your lips. your toes curl at the surge of mind-numbing ecstasy overwhelming your body. your hands fisting the sheets fly to his hair, frantically tugging like you can’t take it, but you beg and beg and beg him for more.

—

the last time you had sex was more than four months ago. you realized that you liked jungkook, and you simply didn’t want to do it with anybody else. sexual frustration combined with the romantic pining for a man that could potentially ruin your life; your youth has been nothing short of eventful.

has sex always been this good? you can’t remember. you’re drunk on pleasure even in the aftermath; you’re not sure if you’re really here or floating someplace else. as you catch your breath, jungkook soothes your body with gentle kisses and strokes of your skin, whispering sweet nothings. mostly babbling about how beautiful you are. and you feel it— feel beautiful, you mean.

you gradually open your eyes, vision adjusting to the divine view infront of you. jungkook is golden, skin still glistening with sweat under the warm glow of the lampshade. your heart skips a beat when he smiles at you.

“are you good? do you need anything? water?”

“again.”

his eyes widens. “again?“

“round two.” you giggle.

you push yourself up to reach his lips, but the kiss ends too soon for your liking.

“jungkook-” you complain.

“wait!”

you stare in bewilderment as he bends down from the edge of bed, appearing to be reaching for one of the objects discarded on the floor.

“what is it?”

“i found it!”

it’s the flower.

beaming with a hue of pure excitement, he tucks the azalea behind your ear for the second time tonight. pretty, he says it so quietly that you only understand through the movement of his lips.

he looks bewitched by you. in a different setting you’d be smug about it, but at this moment, you don’t understand. you can’t read what’s on his mind. if only you could see yourself through his eyes, even for just a moment, then maybe you’d understand why he’s dancing with fire and folding with his tower of cards.

it would be too silly and embarrassing to start crying now, right?

you swallow the lump in your throat, glassy eyes overshadowed by your boyfriend leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead. as if that isn’t enough to entirely melt your heart, he intertwines his fingers with yours. your walls come crumbling down. in a haste to forbid your emotions from breaking free, you reach for him and slip your tongue in his mouth for a fervent kiss.

the burning tears that drip down to your temples are lost evidence you will bring to the grave.

—

“you’re not supposed to be awake.” jungkook complains as soon as he opens the door.

you only spare him a glance before returning to your task. instead of being under the sheets, you’re sat on the floor with his button-up shirt from last night laid across your lap. only several steps closer and he realizes that you’re sewing.

he exhales through his mouth in surprise, setting aside the tray of food on the bed before joining you on the floor.

“baby, what are you doing?! it’s fine. you don’t need to fix it.”

“i know, but i want to.” you reply, smiling, eyes still swollen from sleep focused on the needle and thread. “i stepped on one of the buttons so i looked for the two other.”

he’s dumbfounded watching you sew with so much care and precision. oh my god, he is in love with you. he thinks it so loud he gets terrified that he might’ve ended up speaking it out loud too.

“at least eat first!”

“wow, where did you buy ingredients so early?”

“early?” he scratches his head. “it’s lunch time.”

“what?!” your eyes grow twice their size. “jungkook, i’m late for work! what didn’t you wake me up?!”

“you- you we- you were tired!” he stutters defending himself.

he awkwardly catches his shirt when you throw it aside in a rush to get to the bathroom.

“baby, what about your food?!” he yells.

“wait, i forgot my towel-” you pop out from the doorframe, beaming at him breathlessly. “oh, please pack the food in my lunchbox!”

—

VI. SPEAKING TRUTHFULLY, YOU’RE THE ONE FOR ME

“i missed you.”

you giggle. “you look drunk.”

you hold jungkook’s cheeks in the palm of your hands, and he revels in the comforting warmth radiating from them.

he closes his eyes with a toothy grin. “i’m exhausted.”

“then go to sleep!”

“i don’t want to!”

he opens one eye, peeking at you.

“i came here so you won’t have to tire yourself out more going to my place.” you pout. “why do you hate resting?”

“this is me resting,” he says as a matter of fact, leaning down to give your lips a peck. “you are my rest.”

while it may be true that his body is begging for sleep, his mind is willing him to stay awake for as long as he can. he likes that he has nothing to prove here; he can simply be. you’re softly tracing his skin, forming constellations from the moles on his face, and he knows they’re created out of pure wonder and love.

“this one’s so cute!” you gush. “nobody talks about it enough.”

you place an affectionate kiss on the mole at the bridge of his nose.

“maybe because nobody has noticed it but you.”

you roll your eyes. “as if i’m the only one who spends their free time looking at your face.”

“but you’re the one who can view me in the highest quality.” he brings his face a little closer to tease you; noses almost brushing. “no one else can have me this close.”

“that’s right. or else you will never have me this close again.”

you squint your eyes at him as a threat; a frown making a permanent residence on your lips. fuck, when is he not thinking about kissing you?

“aigoo, look at you sulking!” he exclaims with a laugh.

“i’m not!”

“okay, whatever you say.” he replies in a sing-song voice.

it’s silent for a few beats as he engulfs you in his embrace. he feels like he’s being recharged, and with that comes along the overdue acknowledgement of his exhaustion. he meant it when he said that you are his rest.

“you know, i can’t help but to wonder sometimes.”

there is an undertone of hesitance in the way you spoke which is not typical of you. this prompts him to draw back a little, just enough to get a good look of your face.

“wonder about?”

“i’m not trying to put myself down or anything like that, by the way. i’m not expecting you to say the right thing or whatever either. i’m just-”

you pause, teeth nervously biting your lip. his heart aches in an instant when you avoid his eyes.

“i’m just genuinely curious? and saying what’s on my mind.”

“what is it?” he juts out his bottom lip. “you’re scaring me.”

“it’s not a big deal!”

“go on then. i’m listening.”

“i mean, i know i’m a catch, and- and i have a lot to offer, and i’m special in my own way. but you have a lot of…” you blink, trying to find the right term. “options.”

the word alone causes distaste to morph in his facial expression.

“okay, okay, i know! ugh, i don’t know how else to say it. but you have these beautiful and amazing people throwing themselves at you and sometimes i’m flabbergasted that you actively reject them for me.”

“baby, what are you even saying-”

“i’m serious. there are girls i would’ve totally gone for!”

“but they’re not you!”

he tilts your chin, smiling when at last, he recaptures your wide-eyed gaze.

“it’s really as simple as that.”

“but when we weren’t official yet-”

“i liked you from the start, if i didn’t make that obvious enough.”

you scrunch your cute nose; a smile of pure giddiness starting to form on your face. “you did… i knew.”

“i can’t believe you’re thinking about things like that. i only have eyes for you, baby. do you remember the first fight we had, huh? remember how i got drunk and cried?”

he doesn’t particularly like to relive the trauma and consequences of receiving unsolicited… almost naked… photos of an acquaintance while he’s watching a silly youtube video on his phone with his significant other. anything can be fixed in a relationship if both parties exert the effort, but trust, it is almost impossible to rebuild.

she didn’t know he was, is, in a relationship. in general, no one outside his inner circle really expects him to be in a relationship, or at least be in one that is serious or long-term. because, well, where would he find the time and energy for that kind of stuff?

but keeping you as a secret was his way of protecting you, and if you were hurting because of that, you didn’t show it.

oh, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t mad.

you needed some time to clear your head, you said. ignored his texts and phone calls; shooed him away when he begged at your front door. that issue may already been resolved, but he’s still not done proving that he’s solely committed to you.

you’re one of the most important people in his life. he loves you and he tends to get worried that you will never know much.

you gasp, hitting his chest. “when did that happen?!”

“why are you shocked…?” he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t know?”

“how would i know?”

he scratches his head in confusion. he should probably stop talking at this point and not dig his own grave, but his honesty leads him on. “…didn’t taehyungie-hyung send you a video? or did i make that up in my head?”

he immediately regrets it when the sparkle of mischief appears in your eyes.

“he’s still awake, right?”

“actually, he sleeps early nowadays!”

you wiggle out of his embrace, playfully sticking out your tongue at him. “i’ll go get the copy from him right now.”

“it was so long ago. it’s probably deleted by now!”

“wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“baby, no! it’s embarrassing!” he attempts to pull you back, but his hands barely reach you. “let’s just go to sleep, hm? didn’t you come here to put me to sleep?”

“aw, my love…”

he melts when you gingerly stroke his hair too. he will never live it down if his friends witnessed you babying him and him loving it.

“just close your eyes.”

and with your hand obstructing his vision, he sees pitch black and floating spots and flecks.

“i’ll be back in a minute! mwah!”

but despite his sense of sight being taken away, he still feels you spring off the mattress. the weight of your feet against the floor resonates along with the shout of your name as he follows you out of his bedroom.

you squeal in panic when you realize that you’re being chased. “go back to bed!”

“i won’t unless you go back with me!”

this is one of the instances in which jungkook is grateful for his gifts of athletic prowess and long limbs.

with little to no effort, he overtakes you in the race towards taehyung’s bedroom. doe eyes akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he swings the door open.

taehyung’s eyes flicker up from his phone. he’s frankly not surprised about the intrusion, not after hearing the commotion outside.

“need anything?”

“all the videos you have of him drunk!”

“hyung, no! you can’t give it!”

—

VII. THE CHOICE TO STAY

“give it to me.”

the blanket that jungkook carried from the bedroom is snatched away from his hands. it becomes unfurled and thrown over to shield your shivering vessel from the cold. without a word, he crawls on the couch and under the blanket, hugging you from behind as you catch up on your ongoing tv shows.

relief… he’s been looking forward to this all day.

the tension in his muscles, from head to toe, begin to fade away, especially as you take his hand in yours so you can give it a chaste kiss. it’s quick, but long enough for him to feel the softness of your lips. his hug tightens. he remains silent as he inhales, and exhales, slow and calm. he’s not trying to fall asleep as much as trying to shut down his brain. they say the world has stopped but from his point of view, it has erupted into chaos and he has no other choice but to watch it fall apart and to attempt to rebuild it at the same time. god knows he is doing the best he can but it feels like his best will never not be lacking.

jungkook is scared, and he is more scared knowing that everyone else is too. but for the past two years, whether you’re whole or broken, whether he’s climbing or falling— it never made a difference. you’ve always stayed.

he finds comfort in knowing that he has this constant among the ominous unknown.

his little firefly; your light won’t go out even as the world lets out its final sigh.

“my love, why are you sad?”

you flipped to your other side when another commercial break rolled in; now you’re hovering over him, curious eyes studying every inch of his face.

“is my love hurt anywhere?” you coo. “where should i kiss?”

his body shakes with quiet laughter as you pepper his face with kisses, trailing down to his jaw until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“or do you want a massage? here? know you had a looong day.”

“really? how’d you know?”

“yeah, ‘cause you haven’t showered. you’re all stinky.”

“oh, am i?” he playfully pinches your waist, which you react to with a drawn out whine. “and yet you’re still cuddling with me.”

“so? do you need my massage therapy services or not?!”

“no. i only need my lover, please.” he pleads with droopy eyelids, emphasizing his request by tangling his limbs with yours.

he can’t hide from you like he hides from himself. you’re much more gentler with his heart than he is; unconciously, he trusts you more with it.

“you have me. what’s wrong?”

your hands anchored on the sofa are swept away as he pulls you closer, your weight crashing down on him entirely. he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your natural scent and the lavender in your body wash.

“eh, it’s just work… everything that could go wrong is going wrong. we’re trying to figure things out, but what can we do really…? there’s nothing. i- this-this whole thing is just so fucking frustrating, baby. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not just work! it’s your reason for living. of course this is frustrating and painful for you. it’s understandable to feel that way.”

he can practically hear you pouting. he is proven right when you lift your head, leaning in to give him a kiss. he smiles against your lips. he loves you so much.

“so please don’t burn yourself out trying to be okay. you have me by your side who can help you carry your burdens.”

it was scary at the beginning, but now it only feels right. it is impossible not to love you with all of his heart and soul; you deserve nothing less and more than what he can give. when you hug him, he hugs you back tighter.

“you’re my reason to live too.”

“i shouldn’t be. what if i die before you?”

“yah, don’t says things like that!” he scolds you faster than he can think, eyebrows knitted together and frown a tad deeper. “you won’t. it won’t happen.”

“i will die eventually.” you grimace.

“please don’t say such things as ‘i want you to move on and meet someone else and fall in love again and remarry.’ i don’t want to hear it!” he rambles so fast that he doesn’t even understand himself, stumbling and lisping. “i will seriously cry!”

“oh, i don’t care for things like that.”

you make yourself more comfortable; your boyfriend as your own personal bed. sleeping on top of him has been a natural occurence these days, not that he minds. you’re so soft and warm. it’s like hugging a stuffed toy to sleep. still, he’s mindful of you falling off the couch again.

“do whatever you like.” your eyes meet as you bestow him with a smile. “i’ll be dead; i won’t even know what happens next.”

“you don’t care? huh…” he huffs over the hypothetical.

the mere consideration of it feels like cheating. he knows that it technically isn’t, but he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with someone who isn’t you. nevertheless, if he was being honest and it was the other way around, he’d probably do tell you to leave your heart open. but the topic is not the other way around and jungkook’s heart is stubbornly bound to you.

“why am i getting upset?”

“i don’t care because i’m confident.” you say candidly. “you can fall in love with someone else, but no one will ever love you the way that i do.”

ah, and here comes a side of you that he knows and loves. he swears that cupid is in the room and his heart was just hit by another one of his arrows. it feels so good to be loved so fearlessly.

“i know, so why even bother?” he arrives at a conclusion to his defense, but there’s a much better solution. “please never ever leave me so i won’t have to deal with this dilemma.”

he catches you roll your eyes before he comes face-to-face with the back of your head. your cheek rests on top of his chest; he feels it above his beating heart.

“what then? are we supposed to die together?”

he hums in thought. “it’s not a totally bad idea. we live together, so wouldn’t that make sense too?”

“wow, very shakespearean of you.”

“oh, that’s right! see? isn’t this your type of thing? let’s do it!”

“oh my god, you’re so stupid.” you hide your face behind your hand, giggling in disbelief of the sharp turn this conversation took.

jungkook loves making you laugh. for a little while, he forgets everything else. the world outside may be terrifying but you have your own in your shared apartment. you’re his reason to live too. you ignite the life in his veins. you kiss him with an appetite for passion and love and he enters heaven on earth.

“thank you.” you mumble against his lips.

“thank you?”

“for loving me, for living with me…” your voice wavers and his heart drops to his stomach. he can hold back his tears, but never when he sees yours flowing. “even when you’re tired and having a hard time.”

“you make it sound like a chore, but the truth is loving you gives me the strength to work hard everyday. you do know that, right? baby?” he strokes your hair tenderly, hoping that you receive his sincerity. “i should be the one thanking you… i should say it more often. you didn’t give up on loving me even when it was hurting you.”

“it’s all in the past… you were hurting too.” you reply in a faint whisper. “i love you.”

cupid must owe him a tremendous favor to have granted him the purest form of love a human being could have.

he plants a kiss on your forehead, noticing the rise of your shoulders. an endearing thing they occasionally do when you’re happy, shy, or flattered. it’s one of the many things he learned about you since you started living under the same roof.

he’s been learning about himself too. he tried saving you from himself but this fact is now well-established— you are the sun; it only hurts him to push you away because you’re in everything. it’s the little things that will haunt him if lost. when pieced together, they declare that you love him and he loves you.

the words i’m going home have gained more meaning and he’s excited to say them at the end of each day. he talks about his day and you talk about yours. you find out he’s the reason your lotion ran out too fast again and you chase him around the apartment until he promises to buy you the biggest bottle. you play rock-paper-scissors to figure out who will wash the dishes or receive the food from the delivery guy. you watch too many cooking videos on his phone until one of you falls asleep. most of the time it’s you. tonight, it’s still you.

he must confess that up to this day, he admires you when you sleep. you are safe and sound, and he is mended in places he did not know existed.

it’s time to sleep, he also decides.

he cocoons you in the blanket, then provides another layer of warmth which is his body. once settled, he closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. “what’s the use of our giant bed if we keep on sleeping on the couch?”

—

(?). AN ETERNAL RECORD: MY TREASURE, MY LOVE (ARCHIVED)

[DEC 25 ‘17 02:12AM]

“is it rolling?”

“yes, it’s rolling.”

you excitedly look at the film camera from the thick pile of snow on the ground, moving your arms up and down and your legs from side to side. an attempt to create a snow angel.

your giggles and the crackles of the snow are heard through the speaker.

the lens zoom in on your face.

childlike joy in the form of an everlasting smile and snowflakes on your hair.

“am i doing it?!”

“you are!”

“really?”

“really!”

“is it pretty?”

your face comes out of the frame. for a second only the white snow is seen, and then the dark brown of your coat as you skip towards the camera.

“let me watch!”

the camera shakes before it pans to the ground.

rustling of clothes and a shy, panicked voice.

“hold on- i-i’ll just fix the…”

“why?”

“huh, what do i do?” a forced laugh to mask nervousness. “i think it didn’t save-”

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction

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simpjaes · 1 month

Note

heeseung taking out all his anger during sex drabble pls ❤️

MDNI.

this was originally written for jeno on my other blog but it fits so well [i rewrote it/reworded a lot of things. it's much better now lol] wc: 2.3k

tags: Heeseung hate fucks reader when he has a bad day, unprepped penetration, reader basically loses her ability to feel anything other than his cock lmao (cock drunk)

It doesn't always hurt when Heeseung has his hands on you. Really, most of the time it’s blissful. There were those nights though, when he would be rough, careless, and borderline worrisome with you. Oftentimes humiliating you in the way you can barely even mutter his name, weak and quivering under him.

It doesn’t happen happen, but when it does, you know how much you always end up…kind of loving it.

Really, even if in the moment you’re in pain, sometimes even scared, you had to tell him after the fact to keep doing it. That it’s okay. That you fucking love it.

Naturally, tonight is another one of those nights.

Heeseung, first, had you against the counter with his strong arms pressing you back until your head hit the cabinets. You were, essentially, pinned there between his frustrated eyes and the counter top with him slotting himself between your legs. Not a single word is said to you, not a single explanation, and arguably, you know better than to ask.

You already know. He’s had a bad day.

So, you just let him. Feeling his lips go from a grimace to biting and nipping against your skin. You can only imagine how bad his day went for him to be so silent, still, you let him do as he pleases because you don’t exactly want to make it worse for him. If anything, you’re fine with being an outlet. You get plenty out of this too, after all.

And there is a part of him that knows he’s doing this with you rather than at you, based on your previous pleads to be his outlet. He’s forever in love with the fact that you let him be this rough, with his bruising grip and harsh teeth. There’s nothing more in this world he could need to unwind aside from you and you alone. Solely because you let him.

When he drags you to the bedroom without a word, you simply let him. Internally bubbling with all sort of emotions. Fear, excitement, concern, arousal. He appears to be more angry tonight though, solely because his fingers gripping your wrist hurts much more than usual. You can feel your skin under them, pulling and stretching under his grip as he takes you to where he wants you.

And yet again, like on many nights like these, he doesn’t offer a single bit of foreplay. He does little more than getting his cock out with that same frustrated face, flicking his head down as if he has an expectation of you. That, he does. You know it very well, and you do as you’re directed. Rolling your pajamas down your leg and easily spreading your legs and pussy for him.

Unprepped, still mostly dry. You know it’s going to hurt, and he knows it’s going to hurt too. The understanding is mutual but the act is much needed on more ends than just Heeseung’s.

The drag of his immediate, forced, plunge is uncomfortable for both of you, but something about the feeling of getting you wet while he’s inside of you is something that grounds Heeseung beyond belief. The feeling pulls him out of his red thoughts and turns them a shade darker.

It’s always you who can distract him.

And, of course, he only goes faster and harder at that point, chasing the moment for when you’ll slick up for him nice and wet. Gripping onto your body in such a harsh way that all you can do for him is whimper and cry. Your eyes always force the tears, especially when he hasn’t kissed you yet. But even if he had kissed you, you’d be unable to kiss him back at this point. Not until the discomfort subsides anyway.

Thankfully, and like always, it doesn’t take long for your body to want it. What was once the sound of dry and slapping skin turns to that of wet, squelching sounds as you drip out and around him. The drag hurts no more, and by this point you need him to go harder, faster, fucking deeper. After all, if he’s going to hate-fuck you when you’re not even the point of his anger, if he’s not even going to kiss you, he better find a way to make it hurt more.

Heeseung does come back to himself when he feels the slide though, loving that he can come home from his awful day and have you present yourself in such a way for him. He loves you more than anything, for so many fucking reasons that don’t include that, but still. This is what you do for him, and it brings his softness back tenfold as he reaches out for your face, eyes softening for you in concern.

Fuck, he swears he learns something new about you every day too. After all the years the two of you have been together, he’s shocked when you turn your face away from him. He’s a bit defeated at the act, partially wondering if he’s really pushed it too far in terms of using you. It’s not often he doesn’t at least give you some praise as he does this, but really, he was so, so upset. His brain just….he needed this before saying anything.

And so, at that motion of you turning your face away from him and his softer hands, he only slams his hips harder. He tips himself back a bit now, using one hand to tug at your clit as if it’s a form of retaliation from your rejection.

It would be retaliation anyway, but Heeseung knows well enough how much you love to hurt. You love when he tugs and pinches against your pretty, swollen clit. The sharp pains always make you cry in a way that fucks your brain up. As if you don’t know whether to plead for him to stop or to ask for more.

Still, he’s frustrated that you won’t let him love on you now that he’s grounded himself a bit. His whole fucking day has been a disaster, and now you’re pulling away? Not making eye contact? Not letting him kiss you?

“Baby, look at me.” He says, now nearly demanding that you do as he says.

And, of course, you do.

“You want it to hurt more?” He continues when you still shift your eyes away from him, but he’s a bit amused in the way you nod to him. So out of it for him that he feels almost silly for being upset at you in the first place.

“Yeah?” He nods with a half chuckle, slowing his hips but now driving in with intent and harsh plunges. “Just like that?”

You yelp as you urge him with a nod, loving the sear and feeling of your boyfriend tearing you open. And while you know he’s being rough, he’s not quite giving you his all now that he’s softened up.

You want him to give it his ass by this point now, if the sound of your pussy is anything to go by. You want him to fucking hurt you, to the point you can’t moan, to the point you can’t breathe.

“More,” You manage to get out for him in another yelped whimper. “You’re being soft.”

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation with his hand reaching for you cheek again, burying his leaking cock in so deep, so painfully deep. “Look at me.”

You do, showing him your blown out pupils and mess of hair on top of you head. You nod frantically, wanting him to push further than he ever has. Wondering if he’ll ever surpass his own limit for you.

It goes like this for a while longer than usual. More pain, more pleasure, and your heart rate higher than you thought possible.

He’s using you so well and you couldn’t be more proud to be this for him. An outlet, his girlfriend, his sex doll. And fuck, he bites, he bruises, he drags his hips so painfully into you that you feel like you genuinely could be split in half at any moment if he truly wanted to.

So full, you can feel it so deeply inside of you that all you can do is cry.

You lose yourself to that feeling, basking in the sensation of your walls clenching every inch of him and moaning out with each second that passes. To the point your throat is sore and your eyes are swollen from the tears.

He pulls against your hair now, holding his hips in place and burying himself just as deep as before inside of you. Instantly, you see tunnel vision now. Like you could burst, both physically and emotionally, all for him.

Him, him, him.

And he only holds himself like that to the point that you can feel your cervix bruise. He only pushes harder now, trying to inch in more of his cock despite having no more to give. He lifts your leg over his shoulder just to get a different angle at the failure, only to find a way to make you feel him deeper than you thought was possible.

God, it hurts so good and he loves it. Your pained face paired with the image of your pussy taking the entirety of him. You’re everything to him.

And now? His grunts are that of focus rather than pleasure. He wants to ruin you, he is trying to ruin you to the fucking core just to see if you’ll unravel in a new sort of way.

It’s the fact that he’s talking to you through it too. You can’t make out a single word though, tunnel vision is tunnel hearing, and all you can focus on is the feeling of his cock bruising the deepest part of you. Being torn apart by the man you love is…something you’ll never forget.

And when you do manage to catch a smirk on his face before his hips start sliding back and forth again, you realize he loves this as much as you do. Of course he does, who wouldn’t love a girl willing to let her man surpass his own limits?

Out of respect, no less.

“Are you with me?” His voice echoes through your eyes, and while he’s fully aware that you’re absolutely fucking gone with the way he’s fucking you right now, he takes your distant nod as confirmation.

Despite how far aware he seems in your head, you know that every sensation your body is feeling right now is because of him. You can’t help the quivering. The uncontrollable shaking.

It feels so good, to the point you are nearly numb to everything else around you. The swollen feeling of your body being abused is too, too fucking good. You can’t even comprehend that he’s kissing against your slack mouth, but you do your best to kiss him back.

Goddamn does he love the way you drool all over yourself and him. Good. Fucking good girl.

“Try again,” He chuckles against your tongue, waiting, just to see if you can manage to kiss him properly. Though he suspects you’re completely lost in your head right now.

After all, he’s giving you exactly what you asked for.

And all you can do in return is blink up at him with a dazed smile. Your body is moving up with each of his thrusts just to make it that much more painful, and his lips continue to lay against yours. He’s truly waiting for you to kiss him back like you have the ability to do it. Like you can truly think of anything else rather than what he’s doing between your legs.

Hah.

“You’re so gone, baby.” He smiles in a breath at your failure to do anything more than leave your mouth open for him. He’s fucking floored by how much you love this, and how you truly embrace the inability to think at this moment. “You’re loving this, hm?”

You can’t even not for him this time, feeling pangs of pain and pleasure shoot through your body with each sharp thrust.

“Try again, pretty girl.” He encourages you when he licks against your bottom lip again, gripping your hair with his other hand and craning your neck back.

”You can do it, come on.” He adds, biting against your neck and licking the mark.

You once again, can’t even try, because he accentuates each word with a drag of his pulsing cock and a sharp pressure against your clit with his abdomen. So, you stop trying, falling into the depths of the sensations and allowing yourself to lose your grasp on reality entirely.

Fucking hell, he loves it. The way you come undone, the way your entire body goes clack before shaking uncontrollably with a wet spurt of your pussy trying to push him out. He can feel you clench around him, your body acting on instinct to push, push, push, the pleasure out and all over him.

He has to hold back his own impressed moan at the way he stays buried into you as you squirt around him with that pretty, pained look on your face.

“Fuck, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He grunts out, slowing his pace to feel you clench around him fully, enough to where he needs to brace himself to pull out slightly just to shove his cock right back into that quivering mess. “So out of it too, god–” He moans now, leaning back just to look down fully. Noting how you’ve left a mess all over him.

And you still continue to quiver, your pussy still clenches and grips him. All the way until you’re slack, still clenching, and he’s now pumping his cum into you with such a relieved moan that it almost brings you back to reality.

By the time he’s done shaking on top of you, out of breath, and pulling out, your ears are ringing save for his soft voice.

“Baby?” You hear him say as he dips down beside your head. “I got you.”

You manage to nod to him and smile in a drunken kind of daze as he lifts you from the bed for the proper clean up from a boyfriend who very much loves you.

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen hard hours

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 11 months

Text

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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reiderwriter · 4 months

Text

♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡

Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡

Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)

A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence.

“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried.

“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly.

“But I'm not a woman.”

“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again.

“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.”

“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter.

It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.

The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down.

Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again.

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter.

“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise.

“And your name is?”

“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body.

“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?”

Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up.

With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub.

He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason.

“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest.

“Good observation, Spencer.”

“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head.

“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor.

His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again.

Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him.

A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that.

When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours.

You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election.

You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace.

“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.”

Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you.

He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together.

You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet.

So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway.

“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him.

“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin.

He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him.

“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-”

“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?”

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape.

“I-I'm not a student, and-”

“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.”

His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist.

His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex.

Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you, desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you.

Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper.

He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him.

His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley.

“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?”

“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him.

“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.”

His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin.

You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched.

You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him.

He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust.

You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin.

“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock.

“Did it hurt?”

“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.”

He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving.

He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for.

With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to.

“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him.

“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure.

“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.”

“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier.

He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you.

You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there.

You weren't.

“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?”

You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today.

There was always tomorrow.

He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed.

“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder.

He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there.

Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up.

He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.

“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.”

You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words.

The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs.

It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.

“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?”

He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely.

Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened.

“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.

“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs.

He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head.

Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch.

“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out.

“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug.

“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.”

“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer.

“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.”

You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him.

“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.”

The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal.

Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake.

“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.”

He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts.

“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?”

“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be.

“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?”

Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there.

“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?”

His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct.

You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer.

“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again.

His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning.

“You knew the entire time? Who I was?”

“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”

“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.”

You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest.

“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled.

“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.”

He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again.

“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his.

“Y/N, please let's be sensible.”

“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?”

“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans.

“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.”

His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit.

“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut.

He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly.

“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.”

He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him.

“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue.

“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?”

He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them.

“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth.

“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.”

But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry.

“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again.

This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock.

You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock.

It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so.

“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time.

Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair.

“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.”

His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for.

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strawbeerossi · 5 months

Text

You Think, Genius?

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Being friends with Spencer Reid is an adventure within itself. Movie nights are no exception.

Content/Warnings: Friends type humor, tension, mention of food/food fight, best friends to lovers trope, heavy kissing, very sweet smut (wild because I hardly write that, I feel like lmao).

Word Count: 2.7k

Anon Request: spencer reid x sarcastic funny reader? not mean but like kinda like Chandler from friends humour? with earlish seasons reid (season 3/4)ish cute smut. ADDING TO THE SARCASTIC!READER SHE AND SPENCE HAVE A BESTFRIENDS TO LOVERS ARC 🫶🫶

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

RIP Matthew Perry, thank you for playing the king of sarcasm and being my inspiration for this. 🩷

“Serial killers and childhood neglect have actually been linked together for years. Some of the most notorious serial killers were abused in some shape or fashion at home. Which makes sense whenever you take into account how easy it is to psychologically break a person and cause them to shut down, children being more receptive than most adults.” Spencer rambled on about some study he had been reading about.

Everyone was mostly tuned out besides you, your left hand holding the travel size cereal box up in clear view, your eyes wide. “That explains why I can’t stop eating this cereal! My mom made my life a living hell and now, all I think about is cereal. Oh god.” You said in a sarcastic tone, causing Derek to chuckle from his desk.

“She’s a cereal killer.” He joked while you both were giggling, making Spencer look between you and Derek, a confused expression on his face.

“She’s not a serial killer. I don’t think she’d be working here if she was one.”

The laughter continued on at your coworker’s obliviousness. “No, Spence,” JJ shook her head as she approached your chair, gently taking the little box before holding it up. “The joke is that she’s eating cereal. Cereal killer.” The blonde explained as you were turning back to Spencer.

“Oh, it’s no joke. I’ve got six bodies in my apartment right now. Just waiting to get home to do away with them.” You continued on, a little snort leaving your lips as you were getting your cereal back.

As you were pushing a handful in your mouth, you watched as Spencer looked at you with his head tilted to the side. “You haven’t killed anyone. I know that for a fact. You’re too nice.” He said while he was tapping his pen against his desk, JJ let out a huff and waved him off before she was walking away from your desk to get to her office.

“Isn’t there such a thing as killing people with kindness? That is my big move. I will be nice to them and boom,” You punched the palm of your hand to appear menacing. “I go in for the kill.”

Spencer was shaking his head with a soft giggle at the mere idea of it, your sarcasm slowly seeping through the cracks in an obvious way where he could see it.

“Right. How foolish of me to not understand it.” He joked softly while looking back down to the page he’d been doodling on. Your humor was new to Spencer, something he wasn’t really used to. You were a very sarcastic person, hardly ever having a conversation without injecting the encounter with your wit and sarcasm. He was still pretty clueless with it, however he felt he was getting better. Especially now that you had him saying his own sarcastic phrases at random times. It was weird for the rest of the team seeing the way you’d slowly brought Spencer out of that little bubble he was used to.

He was always the one who didn’t understand jokes or take sarcasm, appearing confused a good chunk of his career from the jokes and lighthearted banter. Being friends with you was a good way to learn how to understand though, which was why he was so lucky that you were his best friend.

“I was thinking of watching a movie. Do you wanna join me?” You asked, packing up your things as you looked over at Spencer as he raised an eyebrow.

“Tonight?” He asked, making you shake your head.

“No. Next week.” You answered with a deadpan expression while he crinkled his nose.

“You’re.. Being sarcastic..” He began while you rolled your eyes fondly with a smile.

“You think, genius? Come on, are you gonna come over or not?” You asked while putting your bag over your shoulder.

“I don’t see why not. Can we watch that new show that’s airing tonight?” He asked curiously, already following you out of the bullpen. He knew you’d give him a ride rather than sending him to go on the metro and meet you there later.

“Sure. I’ve been interested in it anyway. The new sci-fi one, right?” You asked as you made it to the parking garage with him as you were both in search of your car.

“Yes! It actually looks very interesting because from what I’ve read, they don’t make up their own rules as they go. They are using actual scientific data and evidence.” He gushed while you were clapping your hands together.

“Like learning in school! Oh how I loved school!” You were laughing as he had taken notice of the sarcasm and nudged your arm.

“Seriously. It’s going to be great! You may not think it now but you’ll enjoy it while learning about the real world when it comes to tech and space exploration.”

“We’ll have to see about that Dr. Reid.”

The ride back to your apartment was peaceful, the sounds of some radio station filling the quiet atmosphere of the car as you passed by numerous street signs. The comfortable silence was something you liked, never needing to strike up a conversation to enjoy Spencer’s company. Even if he was just reading while you were on your phone.

Back at your apartment, you’d just gotten the channel you needed pulled up, having about ten minutes until the show was supposed to air. Spencer made sure to tape it back at his own apartment, wanting to go back and watch alone to fully appreciate the show for more than its entertainment quality.

“Do you want me to run to the kitchen and get snacks?”

“You don’t have to run, Reid. You can walk.”

“Ha ha. So funny. Snacks or not?”

You were waving him off with a little laugh, offering a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Please go get some snacks. I think I have a big bag of that buttered popcorn you’re obsessed with.”

Spencer practically skipped to the kitchen upon hearing the news, retrieving one of your mixing bowls from one of your cupboards. After filling it up generously with the snack of choice, he was stopped by the fridge to grab two water bottles. With the two cold beverages under his arm, he was hurrying to the living room.

“I think we are all set.” He beamed with pride while placing the bowl on the table.

“Perfect. You’re right on time. It should start after these commercials.” You informed him while leaning forward to get a handful of popcorn from the bowl. While pushing a piece of popcorn into your mouth, you were only raising an eyebrow when you felt a pair of eyes on you. “What?” You asked, head turning to face Spencer as he quickly put his hands up in self defense.

“Nothing! I just wanted to see if it was good, that's all.”

“Right. I hate to tell you this, it tastes like buttered garbage. I don’t think you should subject yourself to eating it.” You joked, picking up a piece before flicking it in his direction, his eyes widening as he felt the snack hit his cheek.

“That could’ve taken out my eye!”

“Too bad it didn’t. We could get you an eyepatch.”

That was when Spencer took it a step further, getting a small handful of popcorn before throwing it in your direction. He was too busy laughing at your expression that mirrored his shock from earlier, pieces of popcorn in your hair and some on the couch.

“Is it a war that you want?”

“Me? You started it! Call it returned fire.”

That kickstarted a popcorn fight that didn’t seem to let up. Spencer was reaching into the now empty bowl before letting his eyes widen. He had no more ammo yet you had two handfuls. He was done for.

“You can apologize and we can end this.” You warned, your body now propped up on your knees as you had eventually turned to face him on the couch. “Just one ‘I’m sorry’ can end this bloodshed.”

“Never.”

“Suit yourself, Reid.” You were winding back one hand whenever Spencer was moving quickly to grip your wrist. There was some screaming, some laughing, and eventually you were being wrestled down onto the couch.

“Drop it!” Spencer laughed, both of your wrists being pinned down. “You do that and this will be all over.”

“No way.” You laughed, panting as you were being pinned down, some of Spencer’s long hair tickling the skin of your cheeks. You had both been in that position for a few more minutes before things calmed down, leaving you and the man above you to stare at one another and wait to reach a stalemate.

There was a growing tension, your faces only inches apart as he had you trapped between his body and the couch. Those beautiful eyes were looking down at you, almost as if Spencer was using the close proximity to take in every feature on your face. It was enough to make your face flush, cheeks hot from his gaze fixed on you and only you. The sound of the opening credits for the show you were supposed to be watching was playing in the background yet you could only look at each other.

There wasn’t a beat missed as he leaned down, lips against yours in a soft, yet cautious kiss. He felt like he had to play it safe, although the way you were feverishly returning the kiss told him all that he needed to know.

There was a fiery passion as your lips slotted together, almost as if they were made for one another. Your hands were moving to tangle in his hair, legs now wrapped around his waist as you both gave in to your urges that were always bubbling under the surface for however long you’d known the loveable genius.

It felt right, in a way. The way your were wrapped in one another’s embrace while having a moment of passion that you never expected to happen. However you had to admit, this was better than you ever thought.

Spencer was pulling out of the kiss, face flushed as he stared down at you with a shy smile. “It felt right. I’m sorry.” He whispered, only being pleased with the way you responded by pulling him down to connect your lips again, wanting to savor another moment as if he were going to disappear in thin air if you let him get too far.

The kiss had escalated soon enough, both of your clothes in a pile on the floor as you were tangled up on the couch, nothing but underwear separating you from each other. “Are you sure that you want this?” Spencer soon asked, his forehead against yours. Your friendship was always special to him, so naturally, he was worried about preserving those positive memories and the relationship as a whole.

“Definitely sure. I’ve thought about this for years.” For once, you were genuine. There was no hint of sarcasm dripping from your tone. That’s how he knew this was serious. “I’ve always loved you. I know you know that because I tell you all the time but it’s.. It's different than loving your best friend.”

Your confession had Spencer’s cheeks bright red, head nodding slowly to show he was paying attention. “Y-yeah. I love you more than a friend too.” He said slowly while he was bringing his hands down your hips, his fingertips tracing over your hot skin as he was hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties.

Your hips lifted to assist him tugging your underwear down, your own cheeks hot from being exposed in one of your most intimate areas. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had sex before and you had confidence when you did but this seemed different.

“I need.. Hold on.” Spencer began while pushing himself up a bit, your watching with a raised eyebrow as you propped yourself up on your elbows. He went for his slacks, getting his wallet.

“Are you gonna pay me for this?”

“What?! No! I-I just..” He began, shuffling through the wallet before he was pulling a condom from one of the wallet folds.

“You have a condom? You were planning for this?”

“No! I have.. I asked Derek for one. Obviously not for tonight but I had to be prepared!” He said quickly while tossing his wallet on the table.

You didn’t tease him any farther, instead your eyes gazing over his body as he was shimmying out of his boxers while standing. Just kissing you had his cock semi-hard, his hand wrapping around his shaft to give a few pumps in order to complete the process although it wasn’t too hard with the anticipation of what was to come tonight.

After sliding on the contraception, he was heading over to get settled between your legs. His eyes were glancing over your glistening pussy, your arousal shining in the dim light of the living room. “Wow.” He whispered, hand moving between your thighs as his thumb pressed against your throbbing clit. The pressure alone was enough to make your mouth go slack.

“Fuck.” You breathed while feeling the pad of his thumb start to rub your clit, your arousal coating it with each swipe. He was taking his time with teasing you, at least.

When he was finished with massaging the bundle of nerves and he couldn’t hold back any more, he was grabbing his cock before lining his tip along with your entrance, thick tip breaching your slick cunt as he was slowly pushing into you when you were both ready enough.

There was a pleasurable burn as he was stretching out your inner walls, your hands tightly gripping onto his shoulders as you pulled his body down onto yours just to feel his skin against yours. It was oddly more intimate than you could’ve expected, even with him staying perfectly still with his cock nestled deep inside of you.

There was a soft gasp leaving your lips when he gave a slow thrust, just testing the waters for now as he didn’t wanna go too crazy before you were ready. He didn’t plan on going super hard anyway, that wasn’t who he was. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Keep going.” You urged.

Once you proved comfortable enough due to your persistence, Spencer’s thrusts began to pick up a steady pace and rhythm. Your moans were enough encouragement for him to feel confident enough in the act, not shying away from you as much as anyone would’ve expected.

They rhythmic sound of his skin slapping against yours coupled with your gasps, shaky breaths and moans were filling the living room, the long forgotten show still filling the background noise. Spencer had since embraced you, one arm wrapped under your frame as the other kept himself pushed up over you. He just wanted to feel you close, to hold you as he made love to you.

It was beautiful to him, the way you were holding him and keeping him close in return. It was like you were the only people in the world, no responsibilities other than being close to one another. The warmth of your flushed skin against his was all he needed to be happy.

It was a dream, essentially. A dream so vibrant that Spencer didn’t want it to end, even if he knew that realistically he couldn’t be in a dreamland forever.

As he was torn from his thoughts at the feeling of your hands on his cheeks, he was offering you a smile as you were locking eyes with one another. “I love you.” He said softly, repeating what you’d both confessed earlier while leaning down to press his lips against yours.

It was after the fact whenever you were finally speaking again, body sitting up from the spot you were in on the couch as Spencer had retreated to the kitchen to dispose of the used condom. “Do you wanna come take a shower with me? No funny business.” You put your hands up in defense.

“No. It’s too personal for me to see you naked.” For the first time, Spencer was the one to be sarcastic with you, making you both burst into laughter.

“I’ve taught you well. Come on.”

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