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whatifyoulivelikethat · 9 months

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almonds, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You're having a really shitty day and it ends with Jeon Jungkook cumming on your ass. Oh, some stuff happens in the middle. You eat some almonds. Yeah.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; acquaintances-to-lovers; mentions of fasting (restricted eating for the day); reader is the hot girl bro of her friend group (yup); so much TENSION; JK is def a shy mess and reader teases him just because he's cute; smut w/o penetration (fem reader, semi-public sex in a rented photo studio space, m-receiving oral, handjob, fingering, forearm kink, nipple play, m-masturbation, cum-eating, multiple orgasms, overstimulation); non-idol!BTS – hobbyist photographer!Jungkook x model?reader

“You seem annoyed.”

“Just had to tell someone I didn’t want to date them and then had to deal with a grown man’s hissy fit. Well, I guess that doesn’t make him grown, does it? Hmph. Anyway.”

You threw your jacket aside with too much force and exasperation. It flew off the chair and shot into Jeon Jungkook’s legs.

Oops.

“Um…”

“Sorry,” you muttered, hurrying over and yanking your black-and-scarlet leather bomber off the ground, dumping it firmly on the seat of the foldable chair. “Sorry. It wasn’t that serious. It was simply unnecessary and a waste of time. I also hate being late. Sorry, again.”

“N-No, I mean… we don’t have to do this today. If it’s too much trouble for you.”

You didn’t know Jeon Jungkook that well and yet here you were. You knew of him. He was friends with a lot of your friends, but both he and you were introverted and were the type to be in own your own worlds. There wasn’t much chance to interact with him and you didn’t think to. Also, your male friends got a little weird if other guys approached you too readily, even if they personally knew them. Some macho man shit or something. You didn’t know.

“It’s no trouble. Really.”

You rubbed your forehead and placed your backpack on the table. Maybe you needed a snack. No, now was not the time. You hadn’t eaten at all today. Specifically, for this. You didn’t know Jungkook well, but you did know he was helping another of your friends who was a tattoo artist. He had a photography hobby and he had tattoos done by said friend, so they asked him to take some artsy shots for their tattoo and piercing studio. Your forward helix was done by the same guy on a drunk night (not that the customers were going to know that… also the piercer was the drunk one and you were the sober one, so, honestly, who was the problem), and so were your double helix piercings (sober day and you paid him like a responsible human being), all on your right ear. Since you didn’t have tattoos, you didn’t think you would be asked, but.

As your friend put it, “I don’t want to look at only dudes on my walls. I’m sure my customers don’t either. I need at least one hot girl. Be a bro.”

Okay, bro.

“I was only trying to buy some almonds and I got accosted by this guy I was talking to, then I had to stand there through this guy’s sobbing as the register was malfunctioning and it was all very annoying,” you sighed, then put a pin in the (literal) sob story. It (he) was irrelevant anyway. “But I am free of him.... hopefully… and I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t expect that to happen today, hah, I simply wanted some fuckin’ almonds.”

You had bowed with your apology. Upon finishing your last remark, you yanked the small packet of almonds out of your bag and slapped them on the black canvas accusingly as if they were the ones that caused you a lot of trouble. As if it was the almonds’ fault, not some dude that couldn’t take the hint and comprehend that you didn’t want a relationship with him.

Maybe you male friends getting a little weird were on the right track.

Also, maybe you should stop trying to sneak behind their backs and meeting guys through apps.

Sigh.

The silence lasted a few seconds.

Then.

A very tentative, “You like nuts?”

You suddenly remembered Jeon Jungkook was standing next to you. Oh, right. “Ah, I heard models eat raw almonds on shoots to curb their hunger,” you chuckled sheepishly, looking up at him and realizing, once again, that there was a lack of closeness preventing you from being too comfortable. He was taller than you and was gazing at you with big, round eyes and a curious expression. You cleared your throat before speaking again. “Since I’m wearing a crop top, I didn’t want to…” You trailed off, hoping he understood.

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, mussing up his hair. “Oh, yeah, I’ve been doing intermittent fasting so I would…”

Then.

Your eyes connected with Jungkook’s and you both stopped talking.

It was only then that you fully processed the man in front of you.

He was wearing a ribbed white tank top that very much showed off his built frame. Whenever Jungkook happened to be at the friend gatherings, he was the type to always wear baggy shirts and loose pants. You had heard before that he worked out a lot, but you had never really thought about it because he preferred to be a fabric mountain in public. Understandable that he enjoyed being comfortable. But now you were taken aback by the close-fitted top and his tapered, straight-leg, dark blue jeans, complete with messy black hair falling over his forehead and grazing the nape of his neck. He typically wore beanies and baseball caps at the get-togethers, probably to avoid styling his hair. All that to say that you weren’t prepared for Jeon Jungkook to look…

Like a model.

Yeah.

He seemed to sense your visual analysis and started, placing his arms over his chest awkwardly as if that was going to block anything. His arms were muscular too. There were no tattoos on his left arm – for now (you knew his type). His entire right arm was a sleeve of them. Deep black and vibrant color, lively tattoos that spread all the way up to his shoulder, ending with crowning petals resembling a floral mandala reaching almost to his collarbone. His hand even had a few small tattoos, the most notable being the sheepish emoji with the squiggly smile.

“Oh, y-yeah, I t-thought… er…”

You didn’t interrupt.

You simply stared at him.

It was unnerving him and it was beginning to greatly amuse you.

“I mean, to take photos of my sleeve and stuff… and you’re so… uh.”

You looked down at yourself. “You said I should wear black and white if I could.” Tight white cropped tank with a thicker, more rigid construction so you didn’t have to wear a bra. Exposed midriff and mid-rise black jeans with a slight flare to accommodate your high-heeled black ankle boots with silver buckles suggestively coffin-shaped.

Hey, you had to have some personality even in a bland outfit.

Jungkook was malfunctioning a little.

“Y… Yeah…”

He also had two rings pierced on the right side of his lip now. He only had one when you saw him last. When had he gotten the second? Your eyes tracked the silver hoops interestedly as Jungkook gulped, revealing the little mole underneath his lips. He had another one on his nose, several on his right cheek, and one on his neck. Hmmmm.

“I was thinking the m-majority of the photos would be black and white… and I would just take some shots of my arm in color later.,” he was saying, backing away from you and into the rented studio space, to the white backdrop and bright lights. There was a camera tripod and monitors set up already. In the center of the white background was a rectangular white pedestal. Probably to sit on to aid with posing. Everything was going to be torso up it seemed.

You followed him, scanning the room. “Oh, I should check my make-up, huh,” you thought out loud.

Sudden heat.

“No, I mean, it’s better if it’s natural, there’s a little–”

You were still standing absolutely motionless as Jungkook brushed his thumb against your left cheek, leaving a trail of prickling skin and a hot sensation pouring down your spine. When did he–? And what was with this earnest, concerned expression? Not quite making eye contact yet, but suddenly realizing what he had done as the silent seconds ticked by. His shaking irises slid towards you, immediately apologetic, but too embarrassed to speak.

Jaw completely slack, mouth open, completely frozen.

“I, um,” you coughed, waving a hand loosely. “It’s a mole. Next to my lip.”

It seemed, to the shock of neither party, that Jungkook had understood that way before you even said it out loud. Probably because he had attempted to wipe your moles away with his finger. Awkward. His thumb was still lingering by your ear.

“O… Oh.”

Yeah. Oh.

“I don’t really wear foundation,” you tried to clarify. “Only on special occasions.”

Jungkook’s face was quite close to yours. He had to bend down a little to be eye-to-eye. He was really staring, similarly to how you were analyzing his body earlier. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable and you didn’t view it as invasive since you had partaken in the same act earlier.

It was just…

Giving you a racing feeling throughout your veins.

“Your skin is so smooth and pretty already,” he murmured in that deep, dreamy voice of his, almost inaudibly, like he hadn’t meant to say it.

The tops of your ears were abruptly on fire. You had to force the word out.

“T… Thanks.”

You were still clutching the packet of almonds as if they were life support.

The sharp crackle of the plastic cut through the silence. Jungkook jerked, pulling his hand back, and you let out a silent breath, surprised at the suspension of the unpredicted moment. Both looking away from each other, and you didn’t dare look back to check how he was doing because you were internally scolding yourself. It was only the current circumstances. The way the chips fell today was throwing you off your game. You weren’t being professional, not that this was an overly professional setting, but you expected yourself to be professional or at least not intimidate the shit out of someone you were about to work with.

Wouldn’t want weird vibes the entire time.

You wanted to say you were sorry again, but it seemed unnecessary and you would rather show your apologies with action. You shoved the packet of almonds in your pocket.

Damn almonds.

“So, um, what would you like me to do? I’m not a model, but I can follow instructions.”

You forced yourself to face him and not make it weird. It wasn’t a shameful moment and there was no reason to act ashamed about it. At first, Jungkook didn’t move, big peepers and all, but you firmly walked over to the white background and stood there in front of the camera lens, seeing one of the monitors was facing you. You weren’t in focus. You backed up to the rectangular pedestal and now you were, skin glowing under the bright lights, looking inquisitive at the arrangement. Raised a hand. The image was flipped rather than mirrored. Ah, okay. You played with your reflection for a moment while Jungkook hurriedly went behind the camera and fiddled with the settings.

Neither of you said anything about the…

Uh.

Tension.

You left the spot for a moment to hurry back to your backpack. Water, extra clothes in case an outfit change was needed, pocket hand sanitizer for the bus, another package of almonds. You fished out your makeup bag and felt around, taking out the two black hair clips inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Lotus flowers. After a moment of consideration, you unhooked your white gold hoop earrings on your lower lobe piercing and put on the pearl lotus flower earrings you had brought with you. They were tiered and dangled on thin silver chains, waterfalling against your neck. You placed your other earring set in a small black velvet pouch and pocketed them in your right jeans pocket, just in case Jungkook thought the dangling ones were too distracting. As a last thought, you plucked the hand sanitizer from your bag and squirted some on your hands, rubbing them together swiftly.

You had messed with your piercings, after all.

You hurried back, pulling your hair away from your right ear, peering at the monitor. Tucked your hair behind your show ear and placed the hair clips accordingly so all your ear piercings were on display.

“Oh!”

“I thought it would be good to show off a little,” you mentioned absentmindedly, frowning as you noticed the chain connecting one of your helixes to your higher lobe piercing was tangled. You carefully pulled the strand of hair away and swept it back. Hadn’t thought of bringing hairspray, shit. Hopefully–

You froze, your hands framing your ear.

Looked up and Jungkook was gawking at your narcissistic use of the monitor.

“Ah, it’s just… there’s no mirror…” Your eyes shifted, rueful in your vanity. “I could go to the bathroom and…”

“N-No, it’s totally fine,” he sputtered. You sensed movement and looked back to see him waving his arms frantically. “I didn’t even think of any of these things, like accessories and hair and stuff… I was kind of hoping that you already knew what you liked… and stuff…”

Even though you weren’t originally close with Jungkook, there were parts of your personality that you just couldn’t hold back.

Like teasing.

“You said and stuff twice,” you snickered.

Immediately, Jungkook gave you this look of puffed cheeks and indignation. “Hey!” Then he seemed to realize his childlike outburst and flushed, shaking his head quickly. “Argh…”

You laughed, dropping your hands and relaxing your shoulders. Better to move along with this newfound tension than the previous one. You straightened and turned your body, right side with all your piercings facing the camera, the ornate earrings catching the light.

“Come on. Let’s start.”

You had thought it would be weird, modeling like this, but it was much easier since you weren’t supposed to look at the camera. With a purpose and your willingness to continue, Jungkook instructed you to tilt your head and move your body. It was quick considering it was primarily your right profile. He asked for movement of your hair and head so there was some life to the photos rather than just the stills. Once you sat on the pedestal and moved your head, he brought the camera tripod closer and stepped around it, holding the small remote in his left hand.

“I did a few solo shots before you arrived,” he was saying, concentrated on the task at hand. “Just to test lighting and stuff. Do you want to review? Or should we move on?”

“Do you like at least one of them?” you chuckled, turning your head back.

Jungkook was bent over the table, bringing the wireless mouse over so he could change the window and scroll through what was taken. You had a brief moment of looking at his shoulder blades and back muscles before ripping your gaze away, seeing your own face in a filter of black and white. Oh. It hadn’t really sunk in that this was photography until this moment. You almost didn’t recognize yourself.

Was that you?

Whoa.

“This one is good. And this one.”

Lips. Jawline. Lowered lashes. Hair curling along the other shoulder, creating that kind of wild devil-may-care fantasy. The choice of mother-of-pearl shone even in the black-and-white. For some reason you had thought of your role in this as quite small – Jungkook was the tattooed one, after all – but there was a mood created here. Calm yet definitive. On the edge of rebellious.

Maybe you had been chosen for more than just being the bro hot girl.

Hm.

“Do you think we need more?” you asked, not knowing the answer.

Jungkook chewed on the left side of his lower lip, puffing his cheek cutely. A thinking face. “I don’t think so? There’s going to be mostly drawn art and finished tattoo photos on the walls. As far as I know, our full-body pictures are going to be blown up but used very sparingly. We’re just there to be pretty.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “So, you think you’re pretty.”

You saw his shoulders flinch. “T-T-That’s just what I was told,” he stammered, tongue-tied.

“It’s okay, I think you’re pretty,” you casually interrupted. “Then this is probably enough. How do you want to pose for the couple photos?”

“C-C-Couple?”

You took a second to stare at yourself for another moment and turned your head, lifting your gaze. Not trying to make it weird. Round, dark brown eyes with curls of black hair over his brows. Lips parted and quickly shutting as you made eye contact. Someone was silently telling themselves to get a grip.

Well.

You were about to get close.

“Um…”

It was already weird just standing in the frame with him. Deep breath. It would be no good to stand here like self-made scarecrows. Come on. It wasn’t like you would be forced to interact with him every day after this. Plus, you already started with a bad impression. The sooner you finished, the sooner you would be able to go home and treat this like any other day.

Right?

“What about…”

You backed up. Jungkook squeaked but you ignored it, taking his right arm and placing his hand on your left shoulder so it crossed over your body and he held you against his torso. Again, you didn’t have to look at him or the camera. You only took a moment to adjust his forearm and not think about how solid it was before turning your head to the left and pulling back your shoulders to lift your chest.

Your ass touched the front of his pants.

Ahem.

You tapped his thigh impatiently.

“Ah, r-right…”

You tried not to think about how deep his voice was or how you could feel his chest vibrate from the tops of your shoulder blades against his pecs. Nope. You heard the sound of the camera and tilted your head again, raising your chin, and did not think about how nice he smelled. Like fresh laundry detergent but not overpowering. You swept your hair back so your collarbones were bare, putting your hair between him and you.

Jungkook angled his body so he wasn’t chest-to-back anymore.

Oh.

Then you attempted not to stiffen as his arm slid across so that his elbow was above your breasts, no, pressed against them, the grip on your shoulder tightening and suddenly his bicep and forearm were pushing your tits together through your crop top.

Um.

The right side of his body pressed against your back and you felt his breath against the crown of your head, his chin resting on you, um, but still you didn’t say anything, his leg shifting forward and now his thigh was pressed to your ass and the back of your leg, UM?!, and Jungkook exhaled, slow and with a shudder.

You did not interrupt.

Stood shock still.

It didn’t so much bother you as it confirmed some things.

“Ah, s-sorry, I should have as–”

“It’s fine,” you replied automatically, not wanting to get into it, glancing at the monitor. The preview was small but even at this distance it was effective. Worth it. “Do whatever you think would give a good result. We have to try things,” you muttered, untangling yourself a little. “Let’s…”

Fuck it.

You turned around.

For a brief glimpse, you spotted Jungkook’s shocked expression, but you avoided it, planting your hands on his waist. No, that wouldn’t do. Your arms felt like they were in the way. You slid them back, over his sides and up, fanning your fingers out. Centimeters between your body and his. His right arm was now along your back, but only loosely, and with his musculature it wasn’t laying quite right if you kept this current distance between each other. You could tell from the way his upper arm was positioned against your shoulder.

You pressed to him.

Chest to chest.

Angled your head so your cheek faced his face and your eyes fixated to the side, not looking at him. But you could feel him. Feel the shallowing of his breath against your cheekbone. Feel the solidness of his body in your arms. Feel his shoulder muscles under your fingertips tense. Like you were really hugging him, except you weren’t.

Not really.

Right.

“Put your arm around me,” you said softly but firmly.

“T-This…?”

“With your thumb in my right back belt loop.”

You felt Jungkook’s entire body stiffen.

“E-Eh…?!”

Your eyes darted to the side and you glared at him from your peripheral vision, seeing beautiful expressive eyes far too close but never mind that. “Come on. It’s a tattoo and piercing shop. Provocative, remember?” You looked away again, to your right. Steeled your voice and sharpened it. You could feel the damn almonds in your left jeans front pocket. You should have put them in your bag.

For fuck’s sake.

“Do it.”

You had asked him to do it but you still weren’t prepared for his fingertips to brush the top of your ass and his palm rest against your hip. You lifted your pelvis away from him, pressing more into his torso, involuntarily closing your eyes. Too weird to stare out wide-eyed anyway.

“Just tell me when you’ve taken it.”

Seconds that felt like hours.

You could tell he was taking the photos. You felt his arm shift. Tilt. Another. His hand moved up and you managed not to shiver. Nudging your head with his nose. You followed the movement obediently. You weren’t going to make this any weirder than it already was. His touch barely on your hot skin. Held your breath.

“O… Okay.”

You moved back and you felt Jungkook also release a tense exhale. He didn’t back away from you though. You tried to think of another pose. Maybe if you just laid your hand on his shoulder as if you were about to walk past him and.

Wait.

You jerked back as Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest and yanked his white tank top up and over his head. Arms flexed, tan skin and inked patterns. You bit back the surprised sound that threatened to escape, looking away quickly and snapping your jaw tight.

“Wha–What are you doing?” you forced out as evenly as you could, snapping your head as Jungkook flung the article of clothing aside like it was goddamn litter. Um, hello? You gawked after it as it skidded across the floor, missing the table just so.

“Shit, I missed–”

You whipped your head back and Jungkook froze, as if he only now noticed you were real human being and not a prop. Now you were aimlessly standing there with a shirtless Jeon Jungkook that you had been getting closer to, but wasn’t this too close, he was too fit and attractive to…

To?

Oh, fuck.

You really hoped he hadn’t noticed your glance at his hard dark nipples and toned abs. It wasn’t exactly something you could ignore. You weren’t curious. Really. His pecs were right in front of your face. Still, you didn’t want to be seen as disrespectful or creepy.

Your jaw was slack.

On cue, an inappropriate thought popped into your head.

And you said it, because, well, you never missed an opportunity to tease.

“This is exactly how all porno vids start, Jungkook.”

Oh, come on. Not that casual tone. And why did you add his name with familiarity like that? That was so unnecessary. Now he was turning fifty shades of red. Great. None of that helped. Of course not. And you chose the crass term over adult films. Maybe you were too much of a bro. You cleared your throat and looked away, trying to break the tension with a soft chuckle.

And, of course, you both spoke at once.

“Ah, why did you…?”

“I mean, you said provocative, so,” Jungkook blurted out way too fast. “I had fasted because I thought it would be good to take off my… uh…” And now you witnessed the processing of that idea in real time. Hm, taking off your shirt for a photoshoot? Great idea. Taking it off in front of a woman you only kind of knew? Er. And in front of a woman that he…

You looked at him.

Jungkook immediately shut up.

You could see he was mildly regretting yeeting his tank top so far.

This couldn’t end if you didn’t get a grip. So, you got a grip and stepped up, half of your body covering his chest, your left side to his left side. You saw him stiffen, but you ignored it, looking straight ahead to the white paper backdrop behind him. Told yourself to breathe. Then you turned your head and you were staring at Jungkook’s left ear. He had three earrings on this side, but they were plainer compared to the five thicker huggies on his left. He stood shock-still, unsure of what to do even though this was his idea.

“Turn your arm so it shows the tiger lily.”

His head jerked and suddenly Jungkook was looking back at you.

You were so close that you could see his moles clearly, especially the one underneath his soft parted lips.

“You… You noticed the tiger lily?”

It was on the inside of his forearm. You had seen the vibrant orange under your lashes and immediately recognized the distinctive shape. You stared into those chocolate irises, barely moving your lips.

“You like them?” you whispered.

Your breath and his breath, mixing.

“It’s… It’s my birth flower…” Jungkook mumbled, dream-like.

He was both a striking and adorable man.

You smiled.

Not breaking eye contact.

“Take the photo.”

A second of hesitation.

“Ah, r-right.”

But Jungkok didn’t look away.

You felt his left hand by the bulge in your jeans pocket. Those damn almonds. Felt him press the button and wondered why the fuck you were still carrying deez nuts, but those thoughts came and went, not dawdling because you were under Jungkook’s gaze. Not overbearing, not trying to feel you out, but, rather, relaxing as you watched him, curious. That was the word.

Curious.

You leaned in closer, pressing your hip to his.

These goddamn almonds.

Placed your fingertips on his collarbone, casting shadows over his neck and jaw.

His chin tilted down, and now your lashes were lowering and so were his. Heavy with a mood. Acting. Just acting, you reminded yourself. Your brow barely touched his. Nearly nose-to-nose. You felt his hand shift a little, but at this point that was his job to press the button and your job to pretend like this chemistry was natural. His scent really was lovely. His sheets must smell just like him. Must be nice to lay in them and wake up with him beside you.

You whispered into the still air between you and him.

“I don’t really like this side of my face,” you murmured.

Those dark eyes flickered to yours.

“Looks good to me,” Jungkook said delicately.

Your fingertips slipped over the curve of his muscle.

He gasped under you and he tried to hide it, letting his eyelids slide shut. He couldn’t see you now. Couldn’t see you tilt your head just a little more. The faintest movement. His hair brushed against your forehead and temples. The distance between your lips and his was so narrow that you could feel the metal of the silver rings as you spoke once more.

“You can’t hide from me just because you close your eyes.”

A moment of closed lids.

Then.

Those brown irises rising beneath coy lashes.

A second.

You took a step back, mid-smile.

Jungkook’s right hand shot out and gripped your waist, pulling you back.

It happened all at once. The wispy exhale leaving your lungs. The warmth of his touch and strength of his tug making you collide with his body. Your hand stopping yourself, pressed against his sternum, molding to the curves. Your face suddenly centimeters from his, a soft gasp falling from your lips, and those round brown eyes went wide as if he only now realized that actions have consequences, as if this wasn’t the expected result, as if his bold move wouldn’t be met by a bolder one.

The movement had been so fast that strands of his black hair were still falling back onto his forehead.

You angled your head and kissed him.

Not the quick flitting peck that toyed with emotions but the press-to-heart, inhale-and-caress kiss, your hand sliding down, the pad of your middle finger stopping on his nipple. Not moving it, but he shivered against your touch, muffled whine under your lips, and your other hand grazed his hip, fingers dancing along the waistband of his jeans. No hesitation. Mature and sensual, his hair against your temples, yours whisking over his arm, your crotch to his hip.

You moved your left thigh forward.

Jungkook yelped into your mouth and drew back, his cheeks flushing pink.

Your hand slid across his bare back and pulled him back against you. You and him now entangled in a ying-yang embrace, no one able to escape. Traced a circle around his hard nipple and you could feel the trembling against your chest, hear the sharp inhale, watch him bite back a whimper. Your lips and breath followed his jaw as you spoke.

“Now, where do you think you’re going?”

His hand on your waist tightened.

You raised an eyebrow to his stunned expression that seemed more like a cover-up than it was honest. Not a cover-up for ill intentions, no. He was trying to hide something else. Excitement. Ah, that wasn’t it either. You stared into those expressive eyes. Read him like a book. He was…

You smiled.

Pressed your thigh against the hard bulge between his legs.

Jeon Jungkook was horny.

“I…” He completely paused with his mouth open. You waited, dancing your nails over his spine. “I was… I was going to…” His face was getting redder. He was still clutching you, his expression telling you that he couldn’t believe that you had taken that last moment from him. You ticked your head.

Challengingly.

“Go on then. Kiss me like you mean it.”

You wouldn’t have held it against him if he didn’t. Wouldn’t have been salty about it. You could be wrong, after all. Could be, but weren’t, because Jungkook’s brows furrowed, a spark of annoyance flaring through his expression. Flint to flame. You tilted your head back. Making him reach for it.

A sliding clatter.

Your head whipped to follow the sound. The small camera remote shot behind your bodies, hitting the backdrop, stark black against white, and then you felt strong fingers slide into your hair, turning you back to a playful smirk adorned with two silver lip rings.

Jungkook kissed you.

A little bit of desperation, a lot of defiance, and the electric taste of uncertainty, the fear of coming on too strong, but you did him one better, rolling your body into his and pressing back to him. Breathing in his scent, running your fingertips over his skin. Hooking two fingers on his belt loop and pulling him closer even though he couldn’t be any physically closer. It wasn’t enough. The tip of your tongue flitting between his lips, gently asking for more.

His sweet gasp addictive, saturated with the wind of the butterflies in his heart.

You ran your thumb along the top of the waistband, stroking his hot skin, and slipped your tongue into his mouth. His tongue brushed up against yours, sending a delicious wave of shivers through your chest, and you exhaled into his throat, low and slow, tasting him, savoring his quivering whimper, trapped in the heat under bright lights and electric tension. His left hand cupped your head, deepening the kiss, more, another, tongue against tongue, body against body, pulse beating in harmony.

You broke the kiss, but only to breathe and cross your arms.

Pulled up, inside out, stripping off your top and casting it out of the way, your hands already taking Jungkook’s wrists before it hit the ground. He stared down, wide-eyed, sputtering, and you pressed his palms to your sides, shivering at the contact of another. Guided him up, up, gliding your fingers over his and closing them around your breasts.

Jungkook gawked at you, jaw completely slack.

You smirked. “Wanna take a photo like this?”

His eyes narrowed. A touch possessive. It made your smirk grow.

“Fuck no.”

Your chuckle was cut off by another one of his kisses, respectively hard and soft from his piercings and his lips, insistent and heated. His hands squeezing, and you sighed approvingly, letting go so he could explore, running his fingers over your hard nipples. Moaning with you, kiss after kiss, breaking the chain to look down and awe at the way his hands framed your breasts, following the curve, pushing your large nipples with his index fingers, and he groaned, his eyes hazy, kissing you again, harder, hips to hips, that hard bulge fitting between the space of your thighs. Rolling his body into yours, chasing your lips despite you not moving away. Pleas hidden in his thin breath. You hooked a leg around his thigh and you saw his eyelashes flutter, moaning into your mouth, needy and wanting.

“What’s wrong?” you purred.

Grinded against him, lightly thrusting, way past suggestion at this point, stings of pleasure racing through you as his fingers flicked at your nipples, those brown irises glassy and unfocused, struggling to get his bearings.

“O-Oh… fuck…”

You fanned your fingers over his sides, sliding down his shapely back, your touch slipping under the top of his jeans.

“Don’t you wish?”

A shadow of confusion, but you simply rocked his hips into yours, digging your nails into the top of his ass and making him gasp, pressing up against you. Your lips hovering over that trembling mole under his lips, placing a single chaste kiss on his skin.

Airy chuckle.

“I didn’t plan to fuck you, so I didn’t bring protection or anything,” you explained, bouncing your breasts into his muscular chest. “I’m sorry but I can’t take that risk just because you’re cute and I like the way you taste.”

His defeated whine was too delicious to resist.

“But.”

You wanted to feel this heat a little more. Stare into those eyes a little longer. Too fast, other people would say. Fuck off, you would say. Those large brown eyes, that dreamy curious expression, that racing feeling from two electric hearts entangled with lustful friction down below, and you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“I have some ideas of things we can do.”

You led him back, making him lean against the rectangular pedestal.

“Poses, if you will.”

The way Jungkook smiled make the world sparkle with mirth.

“You cool with that?” you asked, not wanting to continue if there was no desire. His erection threatened to rip his damn jeans, and yet you wanted to hear him say it. Took his hands from your chest and placed them behind him, helping him catch the corners so he didn’t topple over. Placed your hands over his, stroking his knuckles. You lifted your head and Jungkook caught your gaze.

Biting the side of his lower lip and wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“I’m cool with you.”

Couldn’t help but smirk, leaning in. Lips and tongue and the slow fuck of his soft mouth, devouring his whines as you traced his body lines. His thighs. His sides. Down the center of his chest, your fingertips grazing, your lips leaving his and feathering down his neck. The tremble of his pecs now under your kisses, even the raging beat of his heart, his shallow breath skipping as your tongue tasted him, intoxicated by his scent and the way his body followed your every touch, wordlessly begging for more.

His moan was low and throaty, tapering to a whimper as you unbuttoned his jeans.

Unzipped them, breathing hot over his clothed section, pressing your lips to the strained fabric.

“P-Please…”

Even here, he smelled intentionally clean. Pure. Physically, anyway. Mentally, you doubted it, mostly because Jungkook was practically humping your face in impatience as you wiggled the top of his jeans down his tense thighs.

“Please… anything you want… please, please, do it…”

You pushed his black boxer briefs down.

Washing a burning hot exhale over taut skin and straining veins, making sure to look up at him to see Jungkook checking to see if you were satisfied with what you discovered, then immediately turning red when you caught him, tucking his chin against his shoulder to avoid your gaze. Black hair falling over his eyes. Biting his lip hard, trying to keep his cool.

You licked the dark red head expectantly.

His hips bucked. Gasp torn from his lips. The strong taste spread over your tongue, pre-cum and lust, and you cocked an eyebrow as Jungkook carefully ticked his head back, looking down at you from his peripheral vision, the left side of his lower lip caught between his teeth. He was a sizeable length and girth. Nothing you couldn’t handle and dismantle.

You closed your lips around the swollen head and teased the slit.

“Nrgh…hah…”

Tongue swirling, taking him deeper. Slow, wet, running wet muscle up and down from tip to base, rubbing that thin skin just under the head with persistent pressure and then all the way down to flick out against his balls. Hard then soft. Fuck. That prickling sensation sliding down your back was not a good sign. Molding your tongue to his cock, taking him deep, digging your own grave in the way that everyone hoped for when touching someone for the first time.

The taste, the scent, the lust.

The earnestness of him trying to hold himself back, wanting to succumb to your tight mouth and persistent desire rather than heedlessly chase his own pleasure. Trusting you and trusting that you could get him there.

Fuck.

You wanted to hiss, have some common sense, but your mouth was full of his dick so that wasn’t happening.

“You’re so hot, oh, fuck… fuck…”

Glanced up and saw Jungkook was staring down at you, your face, your tits, your knees planted down firmly. Your hands were on his thighs, keeping him steady as you took him in your mouth, deep to hit your throat and squeeze around the head, up across the roof of your mouth with your tongue rubbing against the underside, your lips catching at the base of the tip and brushing against the throbbing skin, his moan hitching, so sexy, so dreamy, so sublime in its rawness, unfiltered and untainted by expectation.

Well.

You hadn’t expected to suck off Jeon Jungkook in the middle of the photoshoot either.

Life finds a way.

There wasn’t room or time to laugh at your inappropriate thoughts so you went back to focusing on keeping that pressure, that building pace, pulling your shoulders back and driving them forward to diffuse the impact of the force you were exerting. Close, hearing it in his rough voice. Seeing his head tilting back, black hair and tan skin glimmering with sweat. His toned chest flexed, his shoulders strained, and suddenly you realized that it was your name in that needy, desperate tone. Your name falling out of shaking lips, followed by so good, fuck, you’re so good. Your name melting into his moan, filling his lungs, each breath drenched with potent, carnal desire. You were used to that.

What you weren’t used to was this sudden unbearable craving to hear Jungkook say it again.

And again.

Him, specifically.

Fuck.

He came with a groan, his head falling so far back that you could barely see his face, his hips thrusting up and your lips closing in. Thick spurts, messy spasms, squishing saliva and cum into the back of your throat. Strong and surprisingly delicious. An obvious tingle dispersing up the insides of your spread thighs, the pulse of his shuddering length mirroring your lower body.

Want me more.

Licking all around, swallowing, gripping his shaking hips so he couldn’t escape you, encouraged by his delicate but still compliant whimpers. There was an undertone here. How long? How long had he felt these sparks? How long had he dreamed for them to become fire? Was it after your bodies had touched or after you walked in and took off your jacket?

Before that?

You pulled back, your tongue lingering, swirling around his stiff, twitching length.

Those glassy brown eyes would tell you anything right now.

“I don’t want to stop here,” you murmured, staring into the windows of his soul.

“Please, d-don’t…” Breathless, panting, erotic. “I–”

Your fingers wrapped around his girth and pumped him.

“A-Ah!”

Calmly leaned in and curled your tongue around his balls, scooping them into your mouth, all while twisting your hand. Base to tip, creating a tight seal with the residual saliva. He wasn’t prepared. You could visibly watch the ecstasy ripple up from his core to his shocked expression, his eyes rolling back and his head falling, flushed lips quivering, hardly breathing as you held both with his balls with your lips and danced your tongue over them. Rapid strokes. Wet slick. Switching from one and then the other, humming to provide a strumming vibration. Changing the direction of your tongue and the pressure of your lips before switching again, from left to right, all the while keeping a firm, steady pace on his cock.

“Oh, s-shit, what, a-aaah… Your m-mouth is insane, wha…?”

Chasing a feeling.

His high and maybe it could be your pride, your ego, whatever. Sin. The immense satisfaction of watching someone unravel. Jungkook made it beautiful, surreal with his deep but clear voice, dreamy with his hard body lines and soft trembling against you, trying so hard to be so good and not disturb your hard work so he could get the most out of it.

So he could savor your desire for him.

So he could bask in it.

So he could want it more.

“I-I, ah, I’m gonna cum again, please, please, please let me cum in your mouth, ple–”

The fuck was Jeon Jungkook so stupid hot for?

The slight irritation must have shown on your face and it did nothing to stop him, his head snapping back and suddenly he was burning under your gaze. You popped your mouth off and left a trail of spit down his legs, sliding your tongue out to hover under the dark purple-red head of his throbbing cock, pushing him to the edge, hard, fast, racing, I’m so close, you’re so sexy, oh, fuck, that racing prickling down your spine and a heady haze invading all your thoughts, the kind of haze that made you forget common sense, forget the earlier events of the day, and forget even the previous apprehension of being so close to someone you didn’t know too well.

Now you knew a lot.

Heh.

He could see it and you could feel it, the warm streak streaming across your tongue, another splattering before you pressed the flinching head to your mouth, hearing his ragged moan and hiking whimpers, oversensitive and overstimulated and willfully drowning in it, feels so fucking good, your lips are so soft, a-ah, swallowing and grazing your lips over him, faint but so wet, sucking off your saliva and replacing the wetness with kisses, making his body twist and writhe, unable to take it all but wanting to, needing to so damn bad that he thrust into your face, smearing your cheek with leaking cum and spit.

Jungkook moaned so fucking loud that you swore security was about to walk into the rented studio space and catch you pinning him down.

“Hey, hey,” you chided, crawling back up his body, gripping his shoulders. “Don’t lose your mind–”

His lips collided with yours and silenced your words, lip piercings electrifying the contact, kissing you again and again, surely tasting himself but you had no time to warn or complain, suddenly feeling hurried hands fumbling with your jeans, slipping, stumbling, too much haste and too much lust, mumbling against your lips.

“Stop me, stop me if you don’t want it,” he was saying and there was no need, but you appreciated him saying it all the same, fighting with his grasp to undo the fastenings yourself, and then his fingertips found your hot skin. You sucked in a tight breath. Jeans heavy enough to fall down your thighs, and then two fingers hooking on each side of your barely-there, bikini-cut black panties, a second and then gone, now shivering at the rush of cool air on your damp heat.

The moment before he touched you.

Your gaze caught his under lashes, and his eyes shifted back up to you, his lips brushing against yours.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone this fast and this bad,” he gasped.

Honestly, you couldn’t really think about anyone else but Jeon Jungkook right now.

“Me neither.”

You grabbed his right hand and shoved two of his fingers into your pussy.

Middle and ring finger, gasping at the full feeling and the slick ease, pushing him up to his knuckles right away. The response was immediate. His eyes widening, your inner walls closing in around them, your juices dripping onto the silver ring on his index finger, hoping he was okay with that. Thankfully, it was a plain band so there wasn’t much irritating friction when you began to roll your hips into his hand. He thrust upwards, shooting a wave of pleasure through you, and you snapped your head up, exhale laced with the sting of hunger.

“S-Sorry, I got excit–”

You grabbed his head and shut him up, driving his fingers into you to indicate the deep and intense pace you desired before diving into his lips, catching his tongue and sucking on it. You had expected him to be strong and he did not disappoint. It was a rough ride and you rode it with ease, with wild greed, with commitment of your full body, hips and back and teasing his tongue, one hand tangled in his hair and the other gripping his hard forearm just in case you needed to tell him to adjust or stop.

His muscle was like iron.

You glanced down, seeing ink shadowed by your vicious grip. He must work out. Had to with this amount of control and how hard he was flexing right now. Looked back up and Jungkook was watching you, curious of your attention shift, and then you felt his forearm pulse.

Teasing you.

A flash of mischief in those dark brown orbs.

You narrowed your eyes and nipped at his lower lip.

Still felt him smirk though.

Punk.

But there was no time, inhaling sharply as you came in violent pulses, your pussy molding around his fingers and squeezing tightly. Your slick juices sticking to the inside of your thighs despite his hand being there, your skin tingling hot even with the aggressive air conditioning, your lips pressing into his. Shuddering, eyes closing, heartbeat pounding in your throat, alive.

Fuck.

“F… Fuck…”

Jungkook didn’t scold you about your unladylike language, at least.

“Can I…?”

He asked you something but the afterglow was leaving you lust-drunk, simply agreeing and turning around. His wet fingers trailed over your hip, your thigh, and then back to where they had been between your legs. His other hand on your lower abdomen, pressing your ass back and you finally understood, half-smiling when you felt his semi-hard cock sliding between the dip in your ass. His whimpering gasp, letting go of your torso to adjust himself behind you. Now the wet head was tucked in the space just under your tailbone. An obscene scene, his two fingers sliding back into your pussy, ah, so full, and his hand returned to your chest, pinching your nipples. His forehead hit your shoulder, forcing you to arch your back.

His moan heated your shoulder blades, desperation pitching as he rolled his hips into your ass.

“F-Feels so good, your skin is so soft–”

You reached back and pushed the sides of your ass together, creating a deeper channel.

“A-Ah, oh, fuck, fuuuuuuuck…”

You were about to say something but then you realized the camera was still on.

The remote was meters away so no photos were being taken. The monitor was still on though, and you could clearly see yourself with Jungkook’s left hand all over your breasts, your hard nipples pinched and tugged at, his tattooed forearm over your lower belly and crotch while you held your ass in position for his hardening cock to rut behind you.

Your hair was a gotten mess, leaving your face in tangled shadow.

The top of his black hair was balanced on your shoulder.

His forehead was pretty damn sweaty but you didn’t even care.

His hand between your legs slipping, the two fingers now atop your swollen clit, rubbing softly, harder, your voice hoarse with exertion, and he did exactly as you asked, building up the pace, your nipples stiffening even more at his actions and causing sparks to dance in your blood, your breath shallowing, falling into it, letting go, your hair tumbling back onto his shoulder and closing your eyes, diving into the pleasure, wave after wave, feeling him harden against you, his strong thighs behind yours, somehow holding you up through sheer willpower.

You gasped his name, delicate and breathless, and Jungkook moaned behind you.

Slick becoming slicker, the scent of sweet-sour lust saturating the air, sticking to the insides of your thighs.

Should have brought a damn condom.

His hand left your tingling chest and you felt the head of his cock throb, smearing even more pre-cum between your ass. The aftershocks of orgasm stung through you, leaving you faint and woozy. He kept rubbing against your skin, rock-hard, whimpering, mumbling under his ragged breath.

It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you.

“Can I… Can I cum on your ass? Please? Please, I…”

Was it possible to fall in love with someone for being an insatiable horndog?

You had to laugh. It sounded more like an airless wheeze. Nice. If that didn’t lock him down, you next words had to be the ticket.

“Are you a freak?”

You turned around to face him and Jungkook shrugged, chewing on his lower lip.

“I am now?” he admitted in uncertain question.

You grinned. “Lucky you, ‘cause so am I.”

Then you pointed to the active monitor to remind him that the camera was, in fact, still on, enjoying every second of his face turning shades of deeper and deeper pink with his hand still around his hard dick. He had such adorable wide-eyed shock. You yanked him up, both of you still entangled with your pants down your shins, and yet it was just a fun obstacle at the time (although much later you would wonder why you hadn’t simply kicked them off). Shuffled to switch places, balancing your lower abdomen and crotch on the top of the rectangular pedestal, bending over with your ass in the air.

This was probably the best action this studio was getting in its entire existence.

Blessed, truly.

You turned your head to make sure you were in frame, not putting much pressure but just enough to not fall over, arching your back to have your breasts look their best, exposing their full perky shape, reaching back to spread your pussy lips for Jungkook to look at as he jacked off.

You were, as they say, a generous sex goddess.

“W-Woah!”

You smirked as his attention was completely diverted from the equipment, forgetting to be embarrassed, his jaw dropping as you flexed your opening, letting out a shaky breath as you heard the wetness echo in the silence. Tightening your core, releasing, and you could see his grip tense, moving, his lashes lowering. The pleasure was palpable from the heavy scent of sex to the sound of hand on taut skin. Jungkook was standing slightly beside your legs, every so often grazing the dripping, tender head to the top of your ass, moaning wantonly at the contact. You could clearly see the rapid movement of his arm, could sense the speed and power and desperation, fiercely chasing orgasm with his eyes roaming over your back, ass, pussy, back up to the monitor to stare at your obviously hard nipples, and if someone walked in right now you would most certainly snarl at them to wait for Jungkook to finish.

They would probably be too shell-shocked at this literal porno-vid-to-real-life to even say anything but never mind that.

You stiffened reflexively as you felt his searching fingers glide over your slit. Checked and his eyes were rolling back, groaning as he felt your muscle control, mumbling something about wanting to put his cock in your pussy so bad, not right now, I can’t, I can’t, I w-wouldn’t last, a-ah, I have to be good for you, shivers racing through your body at the suggestion, a craving created, and you gave in, sighing dreamily, his finger circling your sensitive clit, the pulse thudding under his touch, and you moaned for him, asking for it.

Which was how you ended up orgasming again with Jungkook stroking your clit and shooting out a stream of hot cum over your ass, pitching forward and smearing it up your back.

Dripping all over you.

“D-Don’t stop…” you gasped out.

Not shying away from the overwhelm and instead aching for it.

His fingers pumped in and out of your wet tightness, your walls spasming at the extended pleasure, barely registering him lifting himself up so he didn’t crush you into the pedestal, rocking your hips back so he struck deeper, harder, and then you yelped, hazy vision clearing suddenly at the feeling of hot tongue to your back.

The surprise made you freeze as you spotted Jungkook in the monitor.

His dark eyes followed yours as he licked his cum off your ass, devious mouth trailing kisses.

Well.

Shit.

An intense high bolted through you and you gasped, knees buckling, pussy clenching around his fingers and throwing your head back, drawn-out moan bursting out of your lungs, clutching the corners for balance and perhaps just to orient to reality, the impossibility and sinfulness of the situation blossoming into a vicious orgasm that crawled up your legs, your arms, chewing throughout your lungs, mounting pleasure as Jungkook pulled a finger out to press against your clit.

He must have felt it.

His warm moan heating your lower back, the delicate pad of his fingertip sensing the brutality of the throbs ransacking you. Even you were witness, the camera monitor revealing everything, seeing the tendons of your neck pop and your collarbones prominent. Lashes low, pink tongue sliding out of your flushed lips, the memory of his unique kiss lingering and making you dream of him already.

You had run out of witty things to say.

Thoughts in general currently obsolete.

“H-Hah…”

Your hands slid down, still shaking from the fallout of the afterglow.

“L-Let me… Let me go to the bathroom and get you something to c-clean up,” Jungkook panted, attempting to get to his feet very unsteadily. You made a noise of agreement, breathing hard although not very loudly, pushing your hair back. It was doomed. You were hunched over and the tousled wave simply fell back, but you let it be because at the moment post-nut clarity was setting in.

Bro.

You just fucked Jeon Jungkook in the middle of the photoshoot.

Pushing off, standing on legs that had the structural integrity of soft tofu, wondering why you also had brains of soft tofu as well. For fuck’s sake. What happened to getting a grip? You yanked at your jeans, not quite pulling them all the way up yet. How old were you now? Surely true adults aren’t this deranged. Surely over the years you would have learned to not fuck a guy you barely knew. And completely sober!

Your stomach growled.

The hunger was not only sexual, it seemed.

Your hand hit the left pocket of your jeans. The crunch of plastic. You frowned, reaching in and pulling out a small package of almonds. You stared at it. Wow. Seriously. The mascot on the almonds looked way too jovial for how disheveled you were right now. You stomach clawed at your insides upon seeing the food.

Fuck it.

Jungkook came back to you holding the handful of almonds and chomping away.

The plastic was on the ground. Actual litter. You would pick it up later. Eat first. He was still shirtless. You wondered if he ran into anyone. You found that you didn’t really care as long as he only thought about you. Seemed like he did, because he skidded to a stop, looking terribly concerned.

You popped another almond in your mouth.

“Uh…”

Shit, you really liked him.

His brows knitted together. “I got some tissues. And paper towels, in case your back…”

You took the tissues and wiped between your legs, still holding the unsalted nuts with your left hand. “I probably need a shower. No one is gonna know you came on me anyway.” Chew, chew. Damn, you super liked him. Shit. Jungkook hovered next to you, not wanting to leave. You usually hated that but not with him. Oh, no. You pretended that you weren’t going to give up all responsibilities to fuck him seven days a week even though you barely knew him. Well, you knew what he was like in bed.

Really fuckin’ good.

Heh.

Technically not in a bed yet, but, eh, semantics.

“I’m really hungry,” you remarked.

“Me too,” Jungkook nodded, but he was still stuck to you, as close as he could be without clinging onto you. Trying to be cool about it. You glanced at him and he looked away quickly, feigning like he hadn’t been staring. Your jeans weren’t buttoned, but they were hanging off your hips. Ah, that explained it. You hadn’t handed him the wad of used tissues despite him clearly showing that he would help you with that gladly.

You fisted the rest of the almonds.

No, not actually.

Fine, you dumped the remainder into your mouth. Chewed thoughtfully. “I have a question and I want a truthful answer,” you mused, directing your gaze at him. Jungkook peeked back through his curls of mostly dry black hair. Must have wiped off his sweat. “Did you plan this?”

He shook his head very quickly and straightforwardly. “No, I didn’t. I swear.”

You believed him. “Never thought about it?”

His hesitation was glaringly obvious.

“Um…”

You waited.

“Y-Yeah… but it was hard to approach you… and I didn’t even think you remembered me.”

You frowned. “Of course, I remember you. I’ve seen you often. You’re not easy to miss.”

His ears were bright red. “O… Oh…”

You thought about it. There weren’t many opportunities for Jeon Jungkook and you to be alone. Then… The cheerful trickster face of the tattoo artist popped into your head.

You frowned slightly. “Did he plan this?”

The possibility seemed to have dawned on Jungkook. He looked surprised and then confused. “I never said… was it that night, when we were drinking at four in the morning…?” His dark brows furrowed. “I don’t remember what happened that night…”

You stared at him.

He slowly slipped from his thoughts and looked back at you, somewhat terrified at your intensity.

You told him exactly what you thought.

“You’re an idiot.”

He sputtered. “H-Hey!”

You shrugged. “Still wanna fuck you though. With condoms. Wanna come back to mine?”

“W-Wait…what?”

“Actually, we should grab something to eat first because I can’t live off only almonds. I’ll die.”

It wasn’t until you were fully dressed and Jungkook was yanking his tank top back on did you look more closely at the monitor screen. After clean up and kisses and light teasing (much to Jungkook’s dismay but he better get used to it if he wanted to be around you), you peered at the narrow column of previews on the side, tilting your head at the last one taken.

Uh.

“Jungkook?”

He was scrambling around behind you, snatching something off the ground. Oh, right, the camera remote he threw. “Huh? Ah!” You heard a thud and swearing. Must have run into the pedestal in his haste to get to you. You ignored his chaotic grumbling and used the mouse to click on the preview, expanding it.

Oh, you know.

Just you and Jeon Jungkook kissing for the first time in high definition.

You raised your eyebrows as he bounded up behind you, what, what, what, then skidding to a dead stop, centimeters from your crouched form. You stuck your tongue in your cheek. He must have pressed the button when it happened.

“Accident?”

Turned your head to look at him.

Those big peepers shifted awkwardly.

You blinked again, agonizingly slow.

“Uh… Yeah…?” he cautiously answered.

Believable.

Not.

You straightened and crossed your arms, giving him a look. Thoroughly intimidating. Jungkook blinked very fast and looked like he was trying not to enjoy it, which did not help you in maintaining the front. This fucking little shit. Or, rather, tall and muscular – never mind. You clicked your tongue and ticked your head to the screen.

“What were you gonna do with it? Frame it?”

He shrugged veeeery slowly. Raising his hands with his shrug as he replied.

“Maaaaaaaybe?”

You tried not to snort in laughter. It was very difficult. Sigh. He was so freaking annoying. And what was worse was that you liked it. Fuck. Maybe you hit delirium. Damn almonds. You wouldn’t have been so weak for Jeon Jungkook if it wasn’t for those fuckin’ almonds creating your aggravating morning.

Hm.

That had to have been the fattest lie you have ever told yourself.

“Can you just have a meal with me so I don’t have to tell everyone the reason we’re dating is because we fucked during the photoshoot?”

He started speaking very fast and stumbling on his words, Busan satoori slipping out. “Oh! We’re dating? Yes! I mean… yes, please! Wait… are we going to your place too, I mean, I would like to but I understa–”

Well.

You should remember you got yourself into this, bro.

masterpost

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

1K notes · View notes

aidanchaser · 6 months

Text

Full Exposure [REMIX]

remixed from Full Exposure by @ladyofthenoodle for the @mlsquaredance event! A huge thank you for organizing it. It has been such a blast and such a boost to my creativity this past month.

beta'd by @ccboomer and @sunshinemarauder

Marinette snaps her laptop closed and groans into Alya’s pillow. She is so tired of looking at empty bank accounts and red spreadsheets. “How am I supposed to afford anything at this rate?” she whines.

“Out of noodle-dollars already?” Alya asks without looking up from her tablet.

Marinette rolls over to stare at the ceiling. “It’s impossible to be a student full-time, have a full-time unpaid internship, and work enough hours to buy food and pay rent and every other little thing that comes along, while also being a full-time superhero!” Marinette ticks each list item off on her hand as she talks. “I can’t keep taking out loans or putting it on a credit card.”

“The system’s broken,” Alya agrees nonchalantly. “You could always sell nudes.”

Marinette squeals in a combination of horror and disgust and throws a pillow at Alya.

Alya takes the soft blow with the smallest of grunts. “There’s nothing wrong with it! A lot of people make a lot of money that way.”

“I’m not interested in gross comments, people photoshopping my body, or having my image fed into A.I. generators.”

Alya shrugs. “Fair.”

Marinette scrunches up her nose. “How much money?”

“A few thousand, easily.” Alya adds a note into her journalism reading, then sets her tablet and stylus aside. “You could probably make a good deal.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “No one is going to pay a thousand dollars for my nudes.”

“They might for Ladybug’s though.”

Marinette reaches for Alya’s second pillow and throws it. This time, Alya catches it.

“Ladybug is a national icon! She can’t just post nudes!”

“Ladybug is a full-grown adult woman who doesn’t get paid by the city. She can do whatever she likes with her image.”

Marinette shakes her head as she sits up. She leans back against Alya’s wall and stares out the window. Ladybug is a hero of Paris. She has a reputation. Besides, what would Chat Noir think? He’d see them, surely. How many pussy jokes could she bear?

Marinette taps her fingers against her closed laptop. “What if they were… tasteful nudes?”

“Boudoir photography is very in,” Alya says. “You’d just have to make sure people know they’re paying for almost-nudes.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start. I’d need you to be my photographer.”

“Girl, I’m happy to help you, but you already know someone who actually does model photography.”

Marinette squeals again and reaches for a pillow, only to find herself out of ammunition. “I can’t ask Adrien to take Ladybug’s nudes!”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

“He’s Marinette’s boyfriend!”

Alya shrugs, as if this is irrelevant, when in fact it is the most relevant that any fact could possibly be to this conversation. Yes, Adrien has turned to directing photoshoots rather than modeling in photoshoots now that they’re in university, but Marinette is not going to ask her boyfriend to take nudes of another girl! And Ladybug is, as far as Adrien knows, another girl.

“You know he’s going to look at them either way,” Alya says. “You might as well make him part of it so he doesn’t have to feel guilty about it.”

“Adrien would not look at Ladybug’s nudes. Not when he’s my boyfriend!”

Alya raises her eyebrows. “He’s loyal, not dead. You remember how he talked about Ladybug when were in school together. He won’t be able to resist.”

Marinette does not remember the way Adrien talked about Ladybug when they were younger. She was too busy daydreaming about him or trying to talk without tripping over her words.

“Adrien used to like Ladybug?” she asks weakly.

“The way a fish likes water.” Alya tips her chair back and, with a mischievous grin that’s rather fitting for the holder of the miraculous of illusion and trickery, says, “Just ask. See what he says.”

✦✧✦✧

Adrien is still not entirely sure that this is a good idea.

He’s flattered, honestly, that Alya, as the admin for the Ladyblog, recommended him to Ladybug as a photographer. He’s surprised and grateful that Marinette assured him that it would be fine for him to do such a risqué photoshoot with such a well-known celebrity. And he’s nervous, more nervous than he has ever been about anything in his life.

Chloé has agreed to give him access to one of Le Grand Paris’s suites for the day, though he hasn’t told her why he needs it—not that he thinks he can fully keep it secret from her. She’ll figure it out once the photos are released.

Zoé helped him haul up his lighting equipment. He didn’t tell her why he needed the room, either, but he imagines she’ll be one of the first people to download the photos once they’re online.

Adrien finishes tightening the C-stand beside the bed. He’ll adjust the lighting once Ladybug arrives, but he wants the grunt work done before she gets there. The last thing he needs is Ladybug standing around in her underwear while he tries to work with heavy equipment.

Adrien rubs his eyes and tries not to picture Ladybug in lacy underwear, though it’s as absurd as it is futile. She’ll be here any minute and he’ll have to photograph her while she’s actually, physically in front of him and is actually, physically wearing lacy underwear.

A knock on the balcony doors breaks through Adrien’s internal battlefield. His heart, which is already nesting in his throat, decides it’s time to run a marathon just at the sound of her arrival. He’s worried it might fully burst before he even lays eyes on Ladybug.

He swallows and reminds himself that he has a girlfriend. That he is going to see Marinette tonight, once this is over. He’ll have to laugh and tell her how absolutely innocent it was when it’s all said and done. Because it has to be innocent. It has to be.

Adrien slides open the balcony door and is relieved to see that Ladybug is still fully clothed in her usual suit. The only thing that makes her appearance on the balcony any different from an evening on patrol is the duffel bag in her hand, like she’s come for a sleepover.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” he replies, and hopes she doesn’t notice how breathless he is.

Adrien isn’t sure if the pause between them feels long because adrenaline has his brain running double-time, or if the silence between them really does stretch out interminably.

“I’m just about ready,” he finally says, “whenever you are.”

“Right! I just need to um… change.”

“Right.”

This time, he’s certain that the pause is too long, but Ladybug finally slips past him and into the bathroom.

When she’s gone, Adrien scrubs his face with his hands. His palms come away sticky with sweat. He is supposed to be the professional. If any of his photographers behaved like this while he was a model, he would never have worked with them again. He can’t let Ladybug think he’s some sort of creep.

The bathroom door opens and Adrien’s heart, again, races, but she doesn’t come out in her underwear, not yet.

Instead, Ladybug is wearing a thin, silky black robe. They discussed a color palette—one of the hardest conversations Adrien has ever had to keep a straight face for—and settled on blacks and reds, which not only keep with Ladybug’s theme, but are sensual enough on their own.

Her hair is pulled up in a bun and her mask covers her eyes—or rather, a replica of her mask. Even the earrings in her ears have to be a copy, at least for the moment. Adrien, knowing how his ring camouflages itself, asked her if her earrings bore her iconic spots when she was not transformed. If she was surprised he knew to ask, she didn’t show it. She simply confirmed that he was right, and she would have to wear a copy if they wanted to maintain the traditional icons of Ladybug.

He can tell that she’s taken his advice about makeup, too. The low dip in her bathrobe reveals perfectly smooth, pale skin. She’s covered up any blemishes and freckles, something he suggested not only because of his own experience in modeling, but because anyone who knows her, like a partner, might recognize such marks.

She blushed and said that her boyfriend didn’t know that she was Ladybug, so that was probably smart.

“I can also clean it up in post,” Adrien told her. Then, he dared to ask, “Does he know you’re doing this? Not that he has to—it’s your choice—I just… if you’re nervous about him finding out, that sounds… bad?”

Ladybug wrinkled her nose and stared down at their notes. “He sort of knows?”

But Ladybug’s relationship isn’t really Adrien’s business.

“Where to first?” She fidgets with the tie around her waist.

“I’ve set up over here.”

Adrien leads Ladybug to the bed, where he’d already pulled back the hotel bedspread and laid out a black silk sheet to cover the stark white hotel bedding.

Ladybug’s fingers slips into the knot around her waist. Adrien picks up his camera and busies himself with the settings, intentionally missing the moment she slides out of her bathrobe and onto the bed.

“I’m just going to check the lighting,” he says, and lifts his camera.

It’s easier to stare at her through the lens.

She’s not only taken her bathrobe off, but she’s pulled her hair down. Her dark hair falls along the curve of her neck and brushes over her shoulders. Adrien follows those curves down to the black cups edged in red lace that cover her pale breasts, though he catches the tiniest sliver of pink peeking out from behind the lace. Black straps fasten her bra to the high-waisted underwear that, while it covers her stomach, curves high over her hips, leaving her legs long and exposed. Her bare feet are decorated in bright red nail polish. Something about that nail polish nags at his brain—didn’t Marinette paint her toes last night?

But the shutter on his camera clicks and he forgets to finish his thought. It takes all his mental fortitude to look at the photo professionally and academically. The shadows on her skin are too harsh; her hair blends in with the black silk; one of the straps of her bra is twisted.

Adrien adjusts the bounce of the light around the room, softens it with a flag, switches the bedding from black to red, and asks Ladybug to fix her bra strap.

“And then the robe back on,” he says, “but open.” It takes all his effort to keep his voice steady and even.

He checks his settings again, adjusts his camera, and finally, they can begin to shoot in earnest.

Once he gets going, it’s fairly easy to maintain his professionalism. There isn’t a whole lot of sensuality when it comes to adjusting angles, clicking the shutter, checking the shot, adjusting the pose—it really does feel like work. But Adrien would appreciate it if his heart would stop jerking in sudden bursts whenever Ladybug turns her brilliant blue eyes to the camera, or when he has to set the camera down to direct Ladybug into a new pose.

She, at least, behaves like a professional.

“New pose?” Adrien asks, and Ladybug readily shifts so that one arm drapes lazily above her head. Her face tilts up so that her neck slopes in a soft arch into her shoulder, and one knee cocks, suggesting a subtle invitation.

Adrien very gently touches her elbow, and she moves her arm at his direction. “Have you done this before?”

“No!” she says quickly, then swallows. Her bright red lips open and close as she looks for the right words. “I mean—I just did a lot of research beforehand.”

Adrien did, too. He’d never done any shoots like this during his time as a model. He quit before he was old enough to even have conversations about these sorts of shoots. So he’s spent a lot of time looking at boudoir photos in the last few weeks. Marinette helped him, and it had certainly been nice to discuss ideas with her.

He still doesn’t know why Marinette was so calm about it all—at least, for Marinette’s standards. She fell into her high-pitched, nervous voice when they discussed the shoot; she laughed awkwardly and blushed terribly. But Adrien knew that Marinette had absurdly jealous tendencies. He still didn’t understand why she didn’t exhibit any of that during their conversations about Ladybug.

Adrien had certainly felt a pang of jealousy when Ladybug told Chat Noir.

“I just… wanted to warn you,” Ladybug said. “And—you don’t have to, er—feel bad if you look at them. I mean, not that I want you to look at them! And I think—just don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

Chat Noir leaned against his staff and tried for a smile, but it was hard with the anxiety curling in his stomach. He no longer loves Ladybug, but she’s still his partner. He doesn’t want to share her with the rest of Paris this way. He also wanted to promise her that he wouldn’t look, especially if it made her uncomfortable, but he couldn’t very well promise abstinence if he was going to be the one taking and editing each and every photograph.

“My lady,” he finally said, “I would never let this change anything between us. Maybe I’ll even do my own.”

But Adrien doesn’t think that he’ll ever be able to do something like this as Chat Noir. Not only does he have absolutely no desire to get back in front of a camera and let someone else take control of his image again, there are too many photos of Adrien Agreste out there. Someone will inevitably hold up Chat Noir and Adrien’s bodies against each other and put it all together, and then it will be over. He’s grown since his modeling days, certainly, but it isn’t a risk he wants to take.

As Adrien pauses to check over the photographs, Ladybug relaxes into the bed. He risks a glance away from his camera to look at her properly, to shut out the stands and equipment and take a moment to see Ladybug as she is.

Her fingers twist in the ends of her hair, like an anxious fidget. Her eyes are locked with the ceiling and there’s a pinch to her cheek, like she’s gnawing her way through a difficult thought. Her black hair fans out on the red silk just as the black robe does, and as she shifts, it falls from her neck and shoulders, revealing the sharp angles of her collarbone. Her lipstick is the same shade of red as the lace that curls around her breast and her waist. Adrien can’t help but stare.

“Is everything all right?” she asks.

“Yes—” Adrien wishes he could sound less defensive. He glances back down at his camera. “Did you want to see them?”

He sits down on the bed next to her and she leans over his shoulder. A shiver runs down his spine as her bare skin presses against his arm. He has never touched Ladybug’s bare skin before; not in all their years of pulling each other out of danger has he ever been this close with her.

“Is that really me?” she asks.

He laughs, but it sounds as forced as it feels. “Yeah. You—You look great.”

She feels warm against him, too warm. He wishes she would pull away.

“You’re really good at this,” she says.

“Thank you. I think knowing what it’s like on the other side of the camera helps.”

Her brow furrows beneath her mask. It doesn’t shift fluidly with her expression the way the magical one grafted onto her might have, but it tilts and twists with her confusion.

“Have you done shoots like this before?”

“No, no, nothing like this. This is… new for me.” Adrien swallows and stands. His arm feels cold where she had been touching him. “But if they turn out well, maybe I can convince my girlfriend to do one.”

Ladybug crosses her legs and leans over onto her knee. “Oh—do you think she’d like that?”

“She did help me plan this shoot, so maybe?”

Ladybug posed so neatly before, but now she looks small and drawn into herself, hunched over her own legs. Adrien wonders if she’s thinking about her own boyfriend, and how he’ll feel to see her like this. Does her partner know her well enough—love her well enough—to recognize her like this?

“Lean back?” Adrien says.

Ladybug places her hands behind her, fingers pressing deep into the mattress and slipping along the silk.

“Chin up, chest out?”

She does, but the worry in her blue eyes doesn’t fade. The pose should be haughty, a look Ladybug has been giving him easily for the last hour. He wonders why she’s so lost now.

He snaps the pictures anyway, then suggests she lean back on her elbows and look away. If she can’t be haughty, he can redirect and lean into pensive.

But after a few more clicks of the shutter, he has to ask, “Are you all right?”

She turns back to him and stares like she’s wandered in from another planet. “What is it?”

“You just look worried.”

“Oh. No. I—I was just thinking. Your girlfriend—I mean, my boyfriend—I mean—I don’t know if he’d want pictures of me like this.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“I just mean I’m not like this, you know, without the mask.”

“You are very pretty. I’m sure your boyfriend agrees.”

It’s hard to tell in the dim lighting, but he thinks she blushes. “I’m a lot more awkward without the magic,” she says.

“You’re not wearing any magic now.”

He doesn’t realize how much attention he’s giving to her breathing until he notices her chest go still, her breath caught in her lungs.

He snaps a photo.

“Oh, I wasn’t ready!”

Adrien glances down at the preview. Her blue eyes are wide and her red lips drawn into a small pout. It’s different from the looks they’ve been leaning towards—powerful, dominant, desirable. Instead, she looks surprised and vulnerable. It’s his favorite picture of the day so far, but it’s clearly not what she wants, not the way she wants others to see her. He deletes it.

“Maybe we should try some of the tease shots?” he suggests.

She shifts onto her knees and reaches behind her to the hooks of her bra. Adrien captures the moment of her unclasping her bra several times before she lays back down on the bed, cups still in place, but backstraps splayed out on the bed.

Then they take a few with the bra cast aside, first with her hands covering her nipples and then with a red ribbon reminiscent of Ladybug’s hair ribbons.

Adrien looks away each time she changes her minimal modesty coverings out, but he can’t help but think about how many nights he spent as a teenager dreaming about Ladybug beneath her mask and beneath her suit. It wasn’t always fantasies like this, but he’d be a liar if he said he had never dreamed of Ladybug like this.

She bites down on her lip and he snaps another series of photos.

Then she puts the robe back on and Adrien’s heart stutters as he remembers what they agreed to shoot next.

Ladybug said she wasn’t interested in full nudes, that she didn’t want all of Paris to see all of her. But they agreed that they would shoot the robe without lingerie.

She shimmies out of her underwear and climbs back onto the bed.

Adrien swallows down a host of anxiety and desire that wells up in his chest as she adjusts herself on the bed. Ladybug leans back against the headboard, one leg bent up and the other out, but her black silk falls neatly between her legs. Adrien’s heart races as she tugs the silk up at her waist so that the V covering her chest pools into something loose and inviting. Adrien can see the lines where her breasts press against her stomach.

“Can you move the knot?” Adrien gestures to her waist, where the knot of her silk tie is hiding behind her thigh. It doesn’t need to be exposed, but it would give the shot more intrigue, though he supposes Ladybug has enough of that all on her own.

She shifts the tie as he directs and shifts all the silk with it.

“May I?” Adrien asks and, with heart racing, fixes the tie for her.

He does everything he can not to brush her skin as he adjusts the way the silk falls against her chest and around her thighs. He checks each wrinkle at her waist to make sure it looks intentionally casual and comfortable. He double-checks the fall of the silk against her chest to make sure the best parts of her are hidden. Finally, he smooths the silk over her thigh and tugs on the ends so that there is only just enough fabric to cover between her legs, but leaves most of her legs visible to the camera.

He catches sight of the tiny, heart-shaped freckle on the inside of her thigh and goes very still. She goes still, too.

“What is it?”

Adrien swallows. “You and my girlfriend have the same freckle.”

“Oh—I’m sorry—I can get my concealer—”

She’s already trying to get out from under him, ruining every bit of staging he has just finished setting. He means to get out of her way and to tell her that he can hide any freckles in post but his brain is too busy trying to figure out why Ladybug just apologized to him for having the same freckle as Marinette.

She crashes into him and he tries to catch himself on the bed, but the silk is smooth and they both go tumbling to the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” she says. “I told you, I’m clumsy without the magic.”

She’s on top of him, and the red silk sheet falls onto her waist, draping over them both. Adrien stares up at her from the plush carpet. She tries to get up, but he grabs her hip and holds her steady. She freezes.

His other hand, as slow and automatic as if it belonged to a machine separate from him, drifts up to her mask. Her breath hitches as he thumbs the end of it, just where it covers her cheekbone.

“Ladybug,” he breathes. They’re so close to each other that he can see the bob of her throat as she swallows.

He knows the next logical thought, but he can’t bring it to his lips. It makes sense, though. Ladybug choosing him, Marinette’s lack of jealousy, the toe nails, the one, single mark on her skin that he’s seen a dozen nights before in Marinette’s bed…

“I’m sor—”

But he cuts off her apology with a kiss. He knew, before he kissed her, but he truly knows it now. He knows Marinette’s shy, hesitant kisses, and the taste of her tongue and the curve of her lips. He feels dizzy as years of flimsy excuses and missed flirting in all directions flood his memories, but it also feels good. It feels right to know that this is how it has always been, that Marinette has always been the girl that he loves.

He drops his head back to the floor and stares up at her with a satisfied grin.

She looks back with panic in her eyes. “Adrien, I’m so sorry,” she says.

But he only smiles. “I don’t know why you’re apologizing. I feel like the cat that just caught the canary.”

✦✧✦✧

Alya yawns and leans against Nino. He pulls the blanket tighter around them and turns the movie up.

Then Alya’s phone buzzes.

“It’s Marinette,” she says, and Nino groans, but he pauses the movie.

“If something happened between Adrien and Ladybug today, I probably should call Adrien.”

“It might be nothing,” Alya says, though neither of them believe it. She leans away from Nino as she answers.

Nino can’t hear Marinette’s words on the other end of the call, but he can pick out the frantic tone. He starts thumbing through his own phone to text Adrien.

Alya frowns and gets to her feet. “Girl, slow down, I have no idea what you’re saying.” Then a grin spreads across her face. “Ah, well, that was always a possibility… No, I’m not saying I planned this on purpose. I’m just saying it’s been years and maybe you should have told him by now… What did you just say about Chat Noir?”

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