Jungkook only whines in response. What an adorable fucker. Except, this fucker also looks incredibly handsome in nothing but grey sweatpants and a shirt. Oh and how can you forget to mention his glasses sitting so prettily on the bridge of his nose?

“You know when we’re actually going to be giving the test, you will miss this time you had to prepare”

“I most definitely know what I’m missing right now and it is your lips”, he teases and you really want nothing more than to just wipe that shit-eating grin off his face.

You and jungkook had decided to have a little study session to ensure you were not going to be bombarded by the information the night before the test. However, the moment you sat next to him on the couch in your apartment, it was extremely difficult for poor Jungkook to keep his hands to himself. How did you expect him to focus when you were sitting next to him in those jeans and that pretty little top?  Oh, and it has a cute little bow right in the middle, accentuating your cleavage just right. God, he is fighting the urge to kiss it.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook is obsessed with his girlfriend.

So before you knew it, you were making out and thirty minutes later, here you are dealing with a whiny Jungkook. He notices your face lighting up with an idea, your eyes carrying a mischievous glint. Carefully watching you grab the stack of flashcards as you straddle his lap, his hands naturally come to rest on your thighs.

“You miss these lips, hmm? if you want my kisses, you're going to earn it”, you exhale, lifting his chin with your index finger as he stares at you with pleading eyes resembling a puppy.

“Fifty flashcards, for every five questions you get a kiss. If you get a question wrong, you won’t get a kiss at the end of every fifth question and if you manage to get all questions right, we can make out again.”

That leaves him amused, lips twitching trying to suppress a smile. He is admiring this side of you, all bossy, albeit you make it too easy for him because one thing he hates is losing.

Especially when the prize is too valuable to lose, your lips that is.

“So you in?” You lean in, your lips hovering almost above his, but when Jungkook tries to close the distance, you pull back. Alright, he might let you have that one but he’s certain that the night will end with you stuffed to the brim.

“Yes ma’am”

“Okay, first question, which enzyme is involved in transcription?”

“RNA polymerase”

“Which acid metabolism helps to retain water in plants?”

“Crassulacean acid metabolism”

Jungkook answered the first five questions correctly.  When your lips met for a kiss, he wondered if this was what heaven felt like. The slow but deliberate move of your lips against his, he relished your sweet taste. Each time you balanced yourself by holding onto his bicep, he pressed you closer against him, one hand under your top stroking your soft skin while the other pressed your ass down on him. He cups your cheek, angling your face to make the kiss deeper but you pull away, leaving a pouty jungkook.

“babyyyyyhh”, Jungkook whines nestling his face in your neck, pressing a tender kiss to it. Ultimately, he realizes his protests are futile when you pull him back by tugging at his nape hair. His cock twitched at the sudden action but he doesn’t say anything.

His hunger after each kiss grew further. At this point he wasn’t even caring about those questions, he was just inebriated by every whimper he swallowed, the way your thighs tightened around his figure. The pretty red blush decorating your cheeks, god he never wants to let you go. He is unable to even pay attention to those questions. How can he? When all his undivided attention is devoted to that ethereal face, it’s your fault really.

“Okay last question, what is the acrosome filled with?”

“Digestive enzymes”

Jungkook looks up at you with a soft, heavy-lidded smile. Holding your chin gently, he pulls you closer, groaning in delight at the sweet taste of your lips. He can’t help but feel his heart bloom when you smile into the kiss. It’s a raw and unfiltered emotion, love. He can sense it in his bones, your love. One that healed the scars you never caused, a heart that you never broke. Instead, you gave him from your vessel more than he ever thought he deserved. This closeness is nothing like he has ever felt and he only feels it growing stronger because he doesn’t want to play with this love in half measures.

He wants it all. Wants to give you all of it.

“I think we should have a lot more of these study sessions”, he suggests, laughing when you slap his arm playfully.

guys mind you idk shit about med school bio so I hope it didn't sound stupid

and then, because he was “clumsy”, as he claimed, he "accidentally" tumbled through the same window three more times that month until you finally just started leaving the latch unlocked every friday.

the rain was drumming steadily against the glass of that exact same window, blurring the neon glow of the streetlights outside. inside, your bedroom was warm, smelling faintly of vanilla incense and the fabric softener that seemed permanently baked into spiderman's suit.

he was currently sprawled out across the foot of your bed, head dangling over the edge, the red mask was rolled up neatly just above the bridge of his nose, baring a sharp jawline, a pair of slightly parted lips and a dusting of dark stubble.

"so then—hey, are you even listening to me?"

"the guy threw a trash can at your head, you did a backflip off a fire hydrant, and managed to web glue him to a lamppost. riveting stuff, truly oscar worthy choreography," you murmur, not looking up as your black ink pen flies across the paper.

jimin narrows his eyes under the mask, a low, dramatic scoff rumbling in his chest.

"first of all, it was a bin, a big one." he corrects, propping himself up on his elbows. "second of all, hand it over. let me see."

you glare at him over the spiral binding with a defensive squint. "absolute not. artists don't show unpolished drafts to their ungrateful muses."

"unfuckinggrateful?" he gasps. "i give you free, high octane action stories on a silver platter every single week to doodle."

"shut up or i'm drawing you with disproportionately tiny feet."

"you wouldn't dare."

"try me."

jimin laughs before he flicks his wrist and before you even have a chance to blink or tighten your grip, a thin, lightning fast strand of white webbing shoots out from the bed, wrapping itself neatly around the top corner of your sketchbook and violently snatching it right out of your hands.

"hey!" you yelp, lunging forward with a gasp, but it's already too late.

the notebook zips across the room through the air, landing squarely in jimin's outstretched, gloved hand. he catches it smoothly, a smug, triumphant grin spreading across his exposed mouth as he flips open the cover to inspect your work.

you slump back against the leather of your swivel chair, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as you shoot him a murderous glare.

"abuse of power." you grumble, watching him flip through the pages with an aggravating pace.

a low, appreciative whistle slips past his lips. "damn. look at the shading on the bicep. honestly, you're making me look like a greek god. though, to be fair, i am."

"hand it back."

"shh, i'm critiquing," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the edge of a page where you'd drawn him mid swing.

"you know," he drawls softly, lifting his gaze from the sketchbook to meet your eyes across the dim room, "if you wanted a closer look at the subject, all you had to do was ask."

"i can see you just fine from here," you counter, raising an eyebrow.

"mhm. doubtful."

his wrist flicks a second time, the chair is sent spinning backward, and you let out a startled shriek as you're catapulted across the room.

you land squarely right on top of him, tumbling onto the mattress in a mess of limbs and soft groans and his annoyingly triumphant, breathless laugh.

"what," you gasp, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, "is wrong with you?"

"everything is entirely right with me, actually," he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, smug purr right beneath you. "best view in queens."

the sketchbook slips from his fingers, hitting the rug with a soft thump and his hands instantly find your waist, long fingers splaying out over your ribs.

you let out a breathy huff of sheer annoyance, rolling your eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't get stuck. "you're insufferable."

you hook two fingers under the rolled up fabric of his mask, yank it upward and let it snap back against his face.

jimin lets out a sharp groan, his head pitching back against the mattress. "hey! violence against superheroes is a federal offense—hmpf—!"

you swallow the protest with a kiss, and his hands, warm and sure against your waist flex before sliding up to cup the back of your head, a melting sigh fans right across your mouth.

he parts your lips with a slow stroke of his tongue that makes a soft, pathetic noise escape your throat. his fingers tangle thick in your hair and you arch into it on instinct, your fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his suit over his chest.

"are you gonna draw this later?" he murmurs, his voice a thick, wet rasp right against your mouth as he gives your lips one last, lazy suck.

you tilt your chin back just an inch, letting out a soft tsk that turns into a sharp hiss when his teeth graze the underside of your jaw.

"bold of you to assume i haven't already," you murmur back, your fingers curling into the solid muscle of his shoulders.

jimin huffs a quiet laugh against your neck, his hands mapping the path down your spine to cradle your ass in a firm squeeze. "then why haven't i seen it?"

"same reason why i haven't seen your face."

"that's completely different," he counters, his voice dipping into a lighthearted whine as his nose brushes against yours. "my secret identity is a matter of national security, your secret is just hoarding embarrassing sketches of me in a locked drawer."

"they aren't embarrassing." you snap back, though a flicker of heat hits your cheeks.

you don't even know his name. after months of late nights he was still just spidey to you. godawful, cringe inducing moaning of spidey echoing off your bedroom walls while he wrecked your nervous system. you'd complained about it out loud to him once.

he had weaponized it since.

"what?" he drawls, flashing a cocky smile. "shouldn't you be grateful that the world's best superhero is giving you orgasms?"

"with his hands and mouth," you fire back, narrowing your eyes down at him in defiance as you grind your hips down, testing the rigid line of him beneath the red and blue weave. "what about his dick?"

jimin lets out a heavy sigh, his head dropping back against the mattress. "you know i can't."

"why the hell not?" you push, tilting your chin up. "you can keep the mask on for all i care. i don't need your face to see what you're packing."

a low, throaty laugh rumbles in his chest. "sweetheart, you’d have seen literally all of me but my eyes."

"so do we know each other?" you stop dead, your hands flattening against his chest as your brain stalls out. "that's completely impossible. i'd recognize those lips anywhere." you press your thumb firmly right over his bottom lip, dragging it across the seam firmly.

he lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head sharply to dislodge your thumb from his mouth. "keep touching me like that and you're not getting any answers."

"no, wait." you mutter, the gears in your head start turning at a million miles an hour. "do we know each other? like, in real life? like, in lecture?"

"i'm not revealing shit."

"fuck," you breathe out, staring down at him. "we know each other."

"mmm," he pretends to hum in thought while he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down the curve of your ass, dragging your underwear right along with them.

"stop." you huff, giving his chest a sharp smack. "you're redirecting the conversation."

"we can continue having it while i eat you out, if you're coordinated enough to talk, that is."

"i hate you," you scoff, though the smile in your voice ruins the threat.

"no, you don't," he murmurs.

he pulls you in by the nape of your neck for a brief kiss and rolls you over onto your back. your bottoms catch on your ankles for a second before he tugs them completely off.

the cool air of the bedroom hits your skin for a split second before his mouth is there, parting you with a slow, heavy drag of his tongue that makes your back immediately arch off the sheets with a sharp, pathetic gasp.

the routine had become as reliable as the rotation of the earth; every single friday night, right around midnight.

except, this friday, midnight came and went.

by two in the morning, you forced yourself to sleep. he had never missed a friday. not once.

and he didn’t, because the window shattered about two hours later.

you sat bolt upright in bed, heart hammering against your ribs, scrambling for the lamp. before you could even flick the switch, a heavy, groaning thud echoed from the floorboards near the sill.

"spidey?" your voice cracked, small and sharp in the dark.

you threw the covers off and scrambled out of bed, dropping to your knees beside him.

"jesus christ—" you gasped, your hands hovering uselessly over him, not sure where to focus on first.

the famous suit was shredded open across his left shoulder and ribs, dark crimson soaking rapidly through the torn spandex. and the mask, it was torn completely away from the left side of his face.

whoever he had been fighting had torn it right off him, and he’d had to bolt before they could see his face, dragging his bleeding body through the city just to reach the one place he knew was safe.

he was breathing hard, a wet, rattling sound, his eyes squeezed shut in agony as he leaned his head back against the edge of your mattress.

"hey—look at me," you stammered, your hands trembling as you reached out, panicking over the massive, ugly gash bleeding down his side. "are you out of your mind? you’re bleeding out—should i call someone? can i take the rest of it off—?"

"no." he groaned, a gloved hand weakly batted at your wrist, though he didn't have the strength to push you away. "no hospitals."

"you need stitches." you grabbed a discarded tshirt from your laundry basket, pressing it desperately against the torn flesh of his ribs. he hissed sharply through his teeth, his hand flying up to grip your forearm.

"fuck," he breathed out, his head lolling to the side.

you stared down at him, completely unsure what the proper reaction was to finding out that your classmate of three years, whom you’d barely exchanged three words with, was the spiderman you’d been secretly hooking up with this whole time.

"this face reveal is so anticlimactic."

jimin cracked one eye open, wincing heavily as he fought for breath against the crushing weight of his injuries. "what...?" he wheezed out, panting through gritted teeth.

"never mind," you huffed, shaking your head to clear the shock. you looped a strong arm around his good shoulder, hauling upward with a grunt. "come on. get up."

"i'm dying, y/n," he groaned, his tall frame dragging heavily against you as you half carried, half dragged him toward the adjoining bathroom. "at least let me write my last will..."

"help me out." you snapped back, guiding him past the bedroom door and straight into the bathroom, leaning him heavily against the sink counter.

he looked like an absolute, unmitigated mess. the suit was shredded, caked in dried asphalt, soot, and sticky, dark blood, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat as he basically yanked the mask, or what was left of it, off.

"strip," you ordered, grabbing the hem of the ruined suit.

jimin managed a weak, pained cough that sounded like a chuckle. "buy me dinner first."

"jimin, i swear to god, if you don't take this off right now, i'm getting the kitchen scissors and cutting it off you," you threatened, though your fingers were already carefully peeling the ruined fabric away from his torn shoulder.

he grumbled, helping you peel the spandex down his arms and past his waist until he was standing there in just his ruined undershorts, swaying slightly on his feet. you shoved him gently into the glass enclosed shower stall, turning the knob to warm water. steam immediately billowed up, washing away the copper stench of blood as the crimson water swirled down the drain, taking the soot and grime with it.

you stood by the sink, grabbing a towel while he leaned his forehead against the tiled wall of the shower, eyes closed, letting the warm water wash the nightmare of the night off his skin.

twenty minutes later, after digging through your clean laundry to pull out a pair of oversized sweatpants, you had him sitting on the edge of your mattress. the first aid kit was open wide between your knees.

you dabbed a soaked cotton ball against the jagged gash along his ribs. jimin’s fists twisted into the sheets, his muscles drawn taut as he fought to keep his breathing steady.

"easy," you murmured, softening your tone despite yourself as you blew a gentle stream of air over the stinging wound. "you're lucky you didn't puncture a lung, you absolute idiot."

jimin looked down at you through his damp hair, all exhausted. he looked like the college student he pretended to be during the day.

"thought i wasn't gonna make it back to this window tonight," he whispered hoarsely.

you let out a quiet breath, finishing up the last strip of medical tape across his ribs and giving it a light pat. "well, you did. somehow."

you went to pull away, gathering up the cotton balls and the antiseptic bottle to put the kit back on your desk, but gentle fingers wrapped around your wrist.

you looked down. jimin was staring up at you with those heavy lidded eyes, giving you a subtle tug, nodding his head towards his lap.

you raised an eyebrow at him. "you can barely breathe."

he let out a pathetic grumble, tipping his head back and letting his hand slide down to lightly hook his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, giving another stubborn little tug. he didn't have the energy to argue, so he just stared up at you with maximum puppy eyes.

you let out a soft laugh at the sheer audacity of him. still, you did as told. you straddled his hips carefully, making sure not to put any weight near his bandaged ribs.

jimin let out a long sigh the second you settled against him. his shoulders instantly slumped, burying his face right into the crook of your neck. his warm cheek pressed flat against your skin, and his arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

you sat there for a second, staring blankly at the wall while his breath fanned against your collarbone.

"this is so weird," you muttered, your hands resting awkwardly on his bare shoulders.

jimin turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against your skin as he mumbled, "what is?"

"you," you gestured vaguely into the empty air with one hand. "because you're out of costume. and because you're...you know. jimin from college. who asked to borrow my sharpener last week and looked like he was gonna cry."

"i didn't look like i was gonna cry," he mumbled defensively, his arms tightening just a fraction around your waist.

you smiled, running your fingers absently through his damp, soft hair that you would wish to be able to tug on when he had you pinned to this exact mattress. "and now you're telling me you spend your nights getting thrown through brick walls by supervillains."

"wild hobby," he whispered, sounding thoroughly exhausted. "good thing i have a very nice friend who patches me up."

"a very nice friend," you echo flatly. "who you sneak into bed with four times a month."

"technically that was spiderman doing those things. jimin from college is a total angel who would never."

you let out a dry, disbelieving scoff, though a fond smile tugs at your lips. "truly. an angel."

jimin sighs through his nose, and shifts upward just enough to turn his face, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin right beneath your jaw.

"mhm," he hums, his lips moving lazily against your neck as he drops another slow, warm kiss right over your pulse point. "a certified angel. who is currently exhausted, but willing to make exceptions."

"a true superhero," you chuckle as his tongue traces a slow, wet path up your jawline, right to the corner of your mouth and you tilt your chin down, meeting him halfway.