↳ aka, i’m in my feelings about a 23yo again but what else is new.
◇ jungkook x reader
◇ smut | fluff | established relationship
◇ 1k [1/1]
notes: i wrote this on my phone as soon as i woke up this morning and it was littered with typos and unformatted as all shit so i’m gonna need u to reblog this one please thanks!!!
warnings: domestic soft lazy sex, cockwarming, jungoo is a big softie and so am i 🥺
It starts slow, just as it always does. A whispered greeting and the lazy slide of a hand along the curve of your waist, trailing from your hip all the way to the swell of your cheek where he settles to pull your mouth against his.
“You’re so pretty,” he breathes against your lips, and you know he believes it with the entirety of his big, mushy heart. You couldn’t feel (and look, for that matter) more like a bedraggled rat in the morning, with your eyes crusty and your cheek stippled by a wrinkle in the pillowcase. But Jungkook strokes your cheeks with his thumbs and plants kisses on both of your eyelids, and you sigh, curling into his familiar, comforting warmth.
Ever so slowly, his kisses move southward. Jungkook trails them down and across your lips, before descending to the column of your throat and the soft spot on your clavicle. Against your thigh, his cock stiffens, and you sigh out his name when he maneuvers you atop him and settles your legs on either side of his strong thighs.
“Wanna be inside you,” he breathes, and that’s all it takes. A little lube from the bottle in the nightstand and he’s breaching your walls, the stretch just as familiar and warm as everything else about him.
“Love you,” you murmur as he rolls his hips gently, his eyes crinkling into a boyish, toothy grin as he buries himself deeper.
“Love you more,” he murmurs back, and you keen out his name when his fingers curl around your hips to keep you against him as he ruts up into your slickening cunt. It’s slow and lazy and intimate, and it’s made even more so when he spills into you and remains there, your name escaping his lips in a raspy groan as he falls limp on your shared mattress.
“I should get up and pee,” you tell him softly, when he makes no move to let you out of his ironclad grip. “Jungkook, I really—“
“You know, I started looking at rings last year.”
Jungkook says this softly, casually, as if remarking on the weather. The sky is blue, there’s a 10% chance of snow in the afternoon, and oh, I’ve been thinking about marrying you for three hundred and sixty-five days now. You want eggs for breakfast?
“Jewelry stores, online boutiques—it took months. Ring shopping is no joke. There are so many options, and cuts, and styles…” He sighs. “I didn’t know where to start.”
You’re staring at him now. There’s a crick in your neck from the way it’s uncomfortably craned, but you don’t look away. “Jungkook—“ you breathe, and you don’t know what else to say after that. Your boyfriend—soon to be fiancé?—is gazing thoughtfully up at the white stucco ceiling, the beginnings of stubble dusting his jaw like a shadow.
“But six months ago, I finally found it. The perfect ring. I’ve been keeping it in my sock drawer—“ he chuckles, “—since you never go in there and I do all the laundry, anyways.”
“Jungkook.” Your voice is stronger this time, but still hazy with disbelief and breathy with awe. Your heart feels like it’s about to pound straight through the prison of your ribcage and out into the open air, free as an uncaged bird.
He doesn’t hear you—or even if he does, he doesn’t stop. “I started carrying it around with me three months ago,” he murmurs dreamily, still addressing the ceiling with a flush beginning to creep up his cheeks. “I almost did it last month, y’know, when we were at the diner. You were wearing that yellow sweater, and you had whipped cream on your nose. And I just had this thought, like, wow, that’s my wife. I’m gonna marry her.”
“Jeon Jungkook, you are not proposing to me when your flaccid dick is inside my pussy,” you finally say when he starts reaching for the drawer of his nightstand, and Jungkook blinks, coming out of his daze at last.
You don’t know whether to laugh or groan, so you do both, the two combining into a weird little huff of air that sends a wispy tendril of his hair across his forehead. “No, you’re not,” you murmur, brushing it away and tucking it behind his ear. “It’s a little stupid, but I always imagined that we’d be outside somewhere. I mean, I’d say yes to you anytime and anywhere, and you could be wearing a garbage bag for all I care, but…” You shrug, the motion made awkward by the fact that you’re still on top of him with your legs on either side of his naked thighs, and the fact that his dick is still very much inside you. “I figured you’d be on one knee, at least. You were on both last night, so I know you don’t have any health—“
Jungkook presses two fingers to your lips to shut you up, a crinkly eyed grin creasing his face. “You want me on my knees, baby? Because I can do that. I’ll do all that and more.”
(And he does. First in the shower, after he finally releases you from his embrace, and then again when you make your way to the kitchen, breakfast all but forgotten as you grip the counter so tightly your knuckles turn white.)
(There’s a third time, too—hours later and right as you step out of the house and into the fresh snow that’s fallen sometime during the night. He’s grinning a grin so wide that you fear his cheeks might fall off, so you drop down beside him and cup them between your palms, kissing him in between all the yeses and I love yous.)
(He’s right. The ring really is perfect.)
