Hi love!! Dropping this here because I can't seem to get it out my head. But I need a drabble and you're the best person for it rn. Tattoos. I need absolute focus on tattoos. Gimme sweet loving aftercare where member x reader reminisces tattoos, why that tattoo, and traces their fingers! lips! bodies! against each other during the aftersexiness. Have fun 😉
let the record show that she sent this in a little while ago and i am just getting around to writing it !
warning; mention of sex, slight possessiveness, jk is a lil jealous but not over the top, mention of tattoos and piercing (one)
His hands were gentle. Soft in the way he touched you; a stark contrast to the way he took you just moments earlier. His words were nurturing, wrapping you in a verbal blanket of comfort. You couldn’t help but smile at the code switch, remembering how just moments ago you were his dumb little slut. Jeon Jungkook was something else.
His fingers traced lightly over the cluster of black roses inked into the skin of your thigh, following the curve of your ass and hip, stopping at your waist. He was there the night you got it on a whim. He remembers you promising that he could color it in with markers when the swelling went down. He remembered the way your face contorted in pain and the way you squeezed his hand tightly. He remembered watching the tattoo artist rub vaseline on it, mesmerized by the way the skin rippled under the artist’s touch. He remembered the way he took you in the back seat of his car for what felt like hours. He especially remembered the swell of pride that set off in his chest as he watched you limp around the house in a pair of his boxers.
Next was the Japanese kanji tattoo on the arch of your spine dragging all the way up to in between your shoulder blades. He hummed in recognition as he traced the tattoo he’d touched thousands of times before.
“Baby, what’re you doing?” Your eyes were closed and you were curled into his side, enjoying the post-nut clarity and the musky glow that remained after a beautiful night. He smiled fondly, watching you mindlessly do the same thing he was just doing.
“Reminiscing, my love. Do you remember when you got this?” His fingers continued their tracing, writing out the lines of the kanji from muscle memory.
You smiled a little. Remembering well the way Jungkook had stared, threateningly, at the tattoo artist the lower he went down your back. You remembered the little threats he whispered, as if you couldn’t hear him. You remembered him making you take your shirt off and wear his jacket backwards out of the shop so you wouldn’t irritate the swollen skin.
“Of course I remember. You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself afterward. Had to pull over into an abandoned gas station.” He remembered clearly, having had his way with you on the hood of his car. Seemed to be a reoccurring theme with Jungkook; tattoo then car sex.
“Mm, I got my birth year tattoo the next day.” He grimaced at the memory, making you laugh loudly into the crook of his neck. His skin heated up in embarrassment, but his grimace quickly became a smile at the sound of your glee.
“In my defense. I forgot I made the home call to get it matching with the guys, so when they showed up, I was a little surprised.” The memory of BamBam, Mark and Yugyeom showing up late the next afternoon for their home call tattoo appointment, to find you bare and sprawled out on the fur surface rug, a black silk sheet stopping just above your ass, giving them the perfect view of your newest piece of body art.
You remember a loud collection of gasps and Jungkook yelling woke you up from your sleep, only to be thrown into a loud fit of laughter at Jungkook whose arms were flailing animatedly at his friends.
“Baby,” He had said, “Please wrap the sheets around you and go put clothes on.” He had sounded defeated and disappointed in himself, so you wrapped the sheet around your body, past him with a kiss and when he’d seen you again, you were fully clothed. Still, you’d sat in his lap his entire appointment, ignoring the possessive arm that hung loosely over your legs.
“It's okay, my love. Pussy slapped the memory out of your brain.” Jungkook only laughed and continued his tracing.
He had worked his way up your back, across your arm, over your neck, where you had the word Euphoria tatted in a fancy cursive, up your throat and stopped at your lips.
He traced the curve of your lips, thumb pressing down a bit on your cupid's bow, where a little sapphire jewelry piece sat, beautifully.
When his finger came around to your bottom lip, he pulled down, giving him a perfect view of what he was looking for.
It was small and written in his handwriting. He’d licked this very piece of ink more times than he could really imagine but seeing it, reminded him that you were his. It reminded everyone that you were his. That you belonged to Jeon Jungkook just as much as he belonged to you. Hearing you say it wasn’t enough. He needed to see it. And maybe that was selfish. Because he knew that you would do anything to prove yourself to him. But he demanded anyway, and like the good little girl you were, you’d gotten it done without a second thought.
He let his hand drop to your neck, squeezing just a bit before speaking.
“Who do you belong to?” He’d pulled you closer by your neck, lips lightly skimming yours, keeping them just out of your reach.
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