meraki | jjk (m)
MERAKI (v., Greek). "to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself in your work."
Summary: Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader
➳ rating: 18+
➳ genre: e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader; fluff, smut
➳ warnings: bickering, bantering, jk is a bit rude at the beginning, flirting, tension, oc is bold and courageous, mention of someone being stoned, mention of insomnia, jk's lip rings <3, heights, not exactly e2l but more like "i find you pretty annoying" to lovers lmao, deep talks and sweet moments, one bed trope, guest appearance, jk takes pictures of pretty things, stars and sky talk <3, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, implied pain kink? lol, fingering, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, 69, spitting, one or two spanks, bit of choking, soft and hard sex, unprotected sex (oc has an iud), soft dom!jk but also glimpses of sub!jk, ofc biiiig dick!jk, doggy/riding/missionary, praises, more flirting, jk's godly body, masturbation, cum swallowing (he comes in her mouth); the lovely ending <3
➳ word count: 26.6k <3
➳ a/n: you guys built this fic!! 🥺 hopefully this is what we expected it to be. it's also yet another love letter to one of the gentlest men i know; happy birthday, jeon jungkook, you're the standard and i will never fall out of love with you 💕 i hope y'all enjoy it!! come and talk to me when you're done mwah <3
TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs
1:04AM, Her
There’s a word for how you do what you do.
A term you hold dearly in the crevices of your bright heart. Ever since you first learned its meaning two decades ago, you’ve made it your primary goal to breathe through life with it as your philosophy.
Passion, it is. A word certainly common in conversation and daily life — you’re not the only person to live by it. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to wallow in it.
Because there’s a fire behind your hard-working chest, lit up, pride residing next to it. It’s where you feel the most vivid light when you do what you love, blooming and blossoming. There are synonyms of it you know, and each of them are pretty as a growing garden.
You gatekeep them for now; haven’t yet found a person to share your knowledge with. Which is okay; in the meantime, you’ll keep looking. You do think everybody needs something like this in their lives.
Something that forces your body upright, sprinkling fairy dust and glimmer into your eyes. Something you can resort to in order to escape the trials of life.
For you, as odd it may seem to people, it’s your job.
You usually work late like today, surrounded by sounds and disquiet. But you enjoy it. You like stepping into the night afterwards, and you like the dark blanket above, the starlight sprinkled across the comforting blackness.
And you like it when it drizzles sometimes. The giggles of couples or groups of friends as they wade through the rain. The absolute quiet and relieving serenity.
You live for this. You enjoy people. You enjoy sensing life around you.
Tonight isn’t different. Even when you find yourself hastening by the end, wrapping up the event with a dozen chores to tackle; even when the host rushes to you, asking for help. Your shoes click-clack across the floor as you move left and right, up and down.
But by God, you never doubt these days’ worth.
1:04AM, Him
Sometimes, people don’t want to be photographed.
Jungkook learned that early on when he agreed to be a photographer at events. He’s encouraged and urged to ask people to pose; that’s his job. Waiting for them to force a smile before they can resume eating, debone their fish or work on their lobsters, beef, veggies.
They long to return to whatever they were doing, or to their conversations, mostly insignificant ones; Jungkook knows because he, involuntarily, hears too many of them.
It’s only when they’re dancing or drinking that they open up. That’s when they’re okay with listening to him, obedient, almost as if he’s authority, staring into the lens with flushed cheeks and wide grins.
Though it’s irritating when every other person walks up to him afterwards, inquiring when they’d be receiving the photos, or, even ruder, if at all.
Today, there are a few more comfortable people around. Not as harsh, not as grim as he feels. You’re here, too, somewhere; of course you are — you got him here in the first place. Somehow, your paths often cross. You were ready for a picture immediately, drawn in by the host, smiling.
He perceived your presence just for a second, though. Doesn’t need or want any more than that. You’re too loud, too energetic anyway; he’s rather among himself, not in any photo, indulging in the job.
He loves clicking through his camera roll; it’s the people that tire him out. Working his way through the pictures he took once home gives him joy, though. Makes his fatigue feel worth it.
But God, you’re not the only one, right? So many people here are the same amount of enthusiastic, party people to the core.
Which is why he’s happy when the night finally concludes, and he, far after midnight, stuffs his equipment back into his bag and slips into his at least somewhat chic blazer.
1:12AM, Her
You groan as your hand dives into your bag, fishing out the key that you already removed from your keychain an hour ago. Back when the man facing you approached you; he’s the last face you see when you step out of the somewhat stuffy hall.
Or so you think.
You don’t know that the night is far from over when you linger at the entrance, handing him a key that he encloses in his grip with a grateful nod and a goodbye-wave. The final interaction when you excuse yourself, breathing in the night.
It’s a hunch cooler than when you left home today; yet, the breeze feels pleasant caressing your skin. The end of August is still warm, still fairly far from fall; you regard summer nights as the best part of the season.
Sighing, you come to a halt in the middle of the pavement, studying the alley. You ponder until you remember a bus not too far from here; you need to turn left, right? Should be there. You have never been around here before, so you’re not entirely sure.
But you’ll just go with your first instinct for now. Keep walking until you detect any kind of a promising sign. You hold onto your roomy bag as you pass the rare people still around.
Some of them are faces you recognise from the party; some are strangers. One couple you spoke to just earlier even lifts a thumbs up for you, praising you for the exceptional organisation. They make you feel at ease until the road quietens.
And the place stays serene and silent until you hear the clearing of somebody’s throat. It’s not near; yet not far. Your eyes scan the area, not for long when they recognise a figure sitting on the opposite side of the narrow street.
It’s a man, clutching a heavy object with careful hands. A camera, you know it immediately. He’s hunting through the pictures he took, face slightly lit by the screen. Jutting lower lip, slowly blinking eyes.
Simple attire — dark jeans, a white shirt, and a blazer on top that hides the wide shoulders.
Constantly and undeniably handsome, albeit always grim due to the lack of a smile.
You squint to confirm it’s him you’re seeing; but when he smacks his lips in the dark of the night, nibbling at the shiny lip rings, you know you’re right. This is a habit you’ve never seen on anybody this persistently as on Jeon Jungkook.
And the one and only Jeon Jungkook must be feeling your eyes on him, because only a second later, he lifts his gaze. Instinctively, you wave a little, but Jungkook isn’t on board with your hospitality. He rolls his eyes; you don’t take it to heart, though. You’re used to this.
As he starts stuffing the camera back into his bag, you waddle over, crossing the street. Upon reaching him, you ask, “Got some good pictures tonight?”
“I’d guess so.”
His voice is as nonchalant as always, his shoulders relaxed, uncaring. To your vampire-novel-reading middle school self, he would’ve been the coolest and most mysterious riddle, waiting to be cracked. But you know how he feels about you, and that makes the situation just a little less intriguing.
Yet, you never stopped approaching him, because aside from conversations like these, you know he’s just human, too. He smiles at events whenever he gets the chance, content with the moments he captures; he likes what he does.
Photography has always been his thing; or that’s what you gathered, at least. You see the same sparkle in his eyes that you feel in yours when you work; the same joy when he fumbles with his camera, always checking, presumably changing the settings, testing it out.
You lean in a little, wondering, “Can I see?”
“Uhm…” He hesitates, lifting the strap of the camera bag higher up his shoulder. “Do you have to?”
“If I may. I brought you here, remember?”
Of course. It’s always you; you’re the one to organise this, and you’ve seen his pieces and albums before. He might not hang around you too much, always the first to tell you he has somewhere else to be, but you know he’s good. You trust him in this regard.
“You say that every time,” he argues, a tattooed hand settling on his bag, clearly reluctant.
So you click your tongue, waving your suggestion off. You try to sound as lively as ever, but your voice is more earnest as you say, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t show me the pictures, but come on. Be a bit nice at least.
“Alright. What else? Do you need something?”
You sigh in defeat. “No. I was just going home.”
“You should go home. It’s pretty late.”
“Aren’t you going, too?”
“I am,” he responds, his voice going up at the end. “I just wanted a bit of peace before leaving.”
“Peace,” you repeat, as if trying out the word. “You can’t get it at home?”
Jungkook doesn’t answer this time. Instead, he only shifts his stare from you to the empty road ahead, exhaling a dramatically long breath before he gets into motion. You immediately react, by his side until he asks, “Are you following me?”
“Huh? Did you forget that I was literally heading this way?” He’s distracted, looking for the street signs, and you laugh at his own confusion. “Do you even know where you’re going?”
“I guess so.”
Okay, at least he’s honest, not giving himself airs. You want to see what his inner compass suggests, but then somewhat shun the thought of walking further into unknown terrain.
So you question, “You taking the bus?”
“Nope. Subway.”
“Ah. That should be this way, then,” you nod towards the direction you’re approaching, “I know the bus is, because that’s where I need to go.”
“…Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
That’s it. He doesn’t respond much; only lets out the millionth sigh, following you with something you might nearly call trust. He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other kind of interaction, so you let him sink into his thoughts.
But a beat of silence later, you still ask politely, “How did you like the party?”
“Uhhh, it was okay.” For the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “The people were weird, don’t you think? But I got some good shots in.”
“Hmm… okay. I didn’t notice anything weird about the people.” You shrug your shoulders. “Talking about shots… did you drink a little?”
He whines your name as the question is a tale as old as time, complaining, “Every single time? Why is this so important to you…” He waits, shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. Seems you did, though.”
“A little,” you say, bringing your forefinger and thumb together, indicating a tiny space. “But I’m all sober and well.” Another brief pause. “Are you okay, too?”
He licks his lower lip, dimples appearing that don’t ever need a smile to emerge. Then, he throws back, “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Dunno. You always look so bored at parties. And you always go home alone.”
You don’t know if the following laugh is sarcastic or not, but you soon discover the very answer when he lifts a finger and counts, “First off, how would you know?” Another finger added to the mix. “Secondly, I’m not bored. I’m just focused. And I don’t know anybody there.”
His hand drops again, working on his bag’s strap again. Pushing it over his shoulder. He adds, “It’s a bit different for me than for you because they’re literally your clients and you know them at least a little.”
“I mean… you know me.”
“Yeah, but you’re…” He regards you from head to toe, not the softest of expressions, and you pout. You don’t ever take him seriously, but he can be hurtful sometimes. “I just don’t think we’d be good conversation partners.”
“Weird,” you challenge, “because you’re conversing with me right now, no problem. It’s also not my fault you always argue with me at every event.”
“I don’t. You approach me.”
“You do.” You lean your face closer to his, not making it very far when his palm pushes your cheek, and you, away from him. “Ugh. Okay. Seriously, though — why do you always leave alone?”
He exhales in defeat. Seems that Jeon Jungkook is too tired to take your idiocy tonight. You understand, but you’re just trying to figure out how to convince him that you’re normal, too. That he just dislikes you because you’re different from him, and nothing else.
“Hey…” he utters, out of energy.
“I mean it,” you still declare, “there are so many sweet and nice girls around. They ask about you sometimes, you know? I’ve also met many men on such pa—”
“That’s great,” he interrupts, a palm stopping you from spilling more info, “but… I don’t think I’m interested.”
“Oh.” The syllable is short, cut, harmless. That is, until it clicks in your brain, and your eyes widen, lips parting as you turn to him in shock, stating, “Oh, wait. Do you… play for the other team?”
Jungkook blinks at you. Then lowers his gaze, turning it a couple shades darker, staring at you from under his eyelids. He looks annoyed when he spits, “No, I’m not gay. And even if I was, it’d be none of your business.”
Shit.
Okay, you were sure about your assumption, but now that it turned out wrong, this sounds pretty shitty. And annoying. And awkward.
“Sorry,” you apologise, and he gives you a taunting head tilt. “Okay… different topic then? Tell me, what do you think of this dress?” You lift the hem a little, smiling; you were convinced the moment you first saw it. “Do you think I look pretty today?”
For a second, he joins; his initial gaze is still cynical, but his voice is appealing, a whisper when he leans in and asks, “Why? Do you want to be the one I go home with?”
Ah… why do the words, the way he speaks them, tickle you just right? You’re flabbergasted, seeing your reaction on the bare skin of your arms, but all he does is back away again and once again, shake his head.
You want to retort something snarky back, but you don’t get to it when he inquires a moment later again, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
Right… you need to go home. You forgot.
“Uh… yeah.” You look around, finally detecting a sign, picturing a bus and a number. “There’s the bus, so the subway should be…” You stop; hum; then see two women waiting at the bus stop. “Should we ask someone?”
“Sure.”
With a nod, you separate from him, walking towards the bus station bench they’re sitting on, hands folded, conversing quietly. They’re surprised when they see a figure advance, but relax when they catch your smile.
You ask the questions floating in your brain, trying to explain where you live, what you need. They attempt an answer, gesture around, and barely a minute later, you’re thanking them and leaving again.
Jungkook stands there in anticipation, waiting for you to deliver good news — yet confused when you return with slumped shoulders instead of an enthusiastic, “We were right! Come!”
Okay, there aren’t too many reasons for Jungkook to dislike you; you want to say this much. But when you see him understand that this is going nowhere, you do get his frustration.
Especially as you kiss your lips, staring at him like a lost bunny, and explain, “So… the subway isn’t here.” Big eyes meet yours. “I’m not sure where it is, and they,” your thumb points to the girls behind you, “couldn’t help because they’re tourists.”
“Ah. Great,” he says, delivering a falsely cheerful smile. Hands thrown into the air. “So we’re stranded and should definitely not be here. What about the bus? Where does it go?”
“Uhm…” You scratch your head. “Not where I need to go. It’s a different one. But!” Immediately, your voice rises, trying to approach this with hope. It’s not the end of the world, after all! “Don’t worry! We’ll get home either way.”
“Just a lot later than necessary.”
“But nothing’s lost yet. Don’t you trust me?”
And — much as you thought — Jungkook only ogles back in silence, blinking once again before he walks away with a curse on his lips.
1:25AM, Her
You catch up to him fast.
“It’s not that big of a deal, I promise!” you vow, but you reckon it only makes matters worse.
Because he breathes air through his nose, like a bull, arguing, “I’m tired, though. This is wasting so much of my time. You always do.”
You stop in your tracks. He doesn’t. You sulk, “That was mean.”
“And you’re idiotic.”
“Well… shit.”
This time you tilt your head, grinding your teeth; less out of anger, more out of embarrassment. You don’t respond much else, and he doesn’t throw another insult. Instead, he opens the bag again with the velcro’s ripping sound, heaving out his SLR.
You peek over his shoulder, confused about the timing to indulge in a passion, and ask, “What are you doing with that?”
“Looking through them,” he mutters, thumb working on the switching button, “maybe I took a picture when I came here. A sign where to find the subway.”
His reasoning elicits a sudden laugh out of you, probably unfounded to him, but very amusing to you. He throws a bewildered and somewhat warning look, and you immediately silence; still holding yourself back when he turns away again.
You wait, listen to the quiet of the night. He doesn’t seem to find any success, and the more time passes, the funnier you find his mind. Eventually, you step next to him and give up, telling him, “Hey. Don't be so tetchy. I'm not that bad.”
Jungkook side-eyes you, tapping the screen of the heavy Sony A9 Alpha. Inhaling the pleasant late summer air, he defends, “I'm never tetchy! But you got us lost.”
“So? You’re being dramatic. There's still Google Maps.”
That’s it. This look of his.
Jungkook must’ve gotten stuck in a decade you’ve long left, because he stares at you dumbfounded, camera still firmly in his hands. He tongues his cheek, blinks.
And then, you mock, “Guess I’m not the only idiot here, right?”
His next breath is deep, and he soon averts your eyes again. You dig, “What? If anything, then low battery might be your only excuse, you know?”
He doesn’t look at you, and you break into a grin again. Shake your head. Then fish out your phone at last, ready to type in the goal, or at least, to search the nearest subway and bus that fit your demands.
Hmmm, okay. If you need to go where you think you need to go, then the subway will really be in immediate distance to the bus. So you’ll be heading in the same direction anyway.
You open your mouth to ask for his address, prepared to type it in — but as you look at him again, you detect a deeply focused Jungkook, pursing his lips at his camera and regarding it with glitter in his eyes. You see it even from here, the sparkle.
Maybe he’s waiting for you to deliver a conclusion, because you catch him moving through older pictures in the meantime. From here, you only see glimpses. Of forests and roads, and then of waterfalls. Even some of him and his friends.
He doesn’t notice it, but his eyebrows are much more relaxed now, expression not quite as steely anymore; and his lips even twitch for a tiny second, tempted to smile. As if he forgot where he’s currently standing.
You let your arms sink, both hands holding your phone, and just gaze for a while. Then move your eyes to the side. To the sky. Remember places you’ve seen and loved in this town. Still hear his harsh tone echoing in your ears.
In hindsight, you really don’t think you've ever personally hurt or offended him. He might’ve been annoyed by something else. Perhaps he was dealing with something that he never dared to speak about; or perhaps, his perception of optimism is warped, because he clearly doesn’t wade through life with it.
You’d like to see his real self, though. The real self, because your gut feeling whispers to you that this isn’t him. Maybe there’s a kind and kindred soul hidden somewhere; maybe his smile proves far more intriguing to you than these mysterious moods of his. Once it appears, that is.
But…
He’ll probably say no. Your idea isn’t dumb, you’re certain, but he very likely will not go with it. But you want to try. Want to show him that you’re not as bad, that he can trust you; want to know what burdens him; or why he talks to you like this.
You might be the only one to wish for more time with somebody who wants to avoid you like the plague.
Yet…
You don’t want this to end just yet.
So you drop a suggestion that surprise even you—
“…You know what? Let’s try something fun tonight.”
“Excuse me?”
He voices it with his attention only half on you, not quite taking you seriously; so you swallow to dampen your throat and speak firmer, suggesting, “You need to trust me on this, though.”
This time, he does look at you. Works on stuffing his camera back into his bag, opening his mouth to retort something, but you stop him with a shushing finger that he doesn’t look too happy about.
“Hold on, okay?” you exclaim. “Listen. Are you busy tomorrow?”
“Uh… not until the afternoon.”
“So you can sleep in.”
“I guess.”
You clap once, loudly and dramatically, watching the man in front of you flinch. You can’t say if he’s irritated, shocked or terrified of you. But he looks hilarious like this, blinking, scowling as his fingers clutch his bag tighter.
“What is it?” he asks as if you’ve lost your mind.
“Look. Let’s not leave yet. Fuck Google Maps,” you suggest, and his eyes grow wider by the second, baffled, as if you’re caging him. “Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again. Isn’t this tempting?”
In your head, it is. Not for yourself, but for him. In your mind, he thinks of you as a constant nuisance that stands in his way, hopping around like an overhyped puppy.
Or not. Maybe he has a dog at home; maybe he regards you as worse than cute puppies.
Whatever.
You look at him expectantly, like your persisting stare could help him land a decision. Instead, however, he grimaces, his voice higher when he asks, “What even are you sa—”
No, you won’t give up yet; even if the recurring interruptions make him tear his hair out. You click your tongue and then argue, “Come on! Give it a try.”
Hesitation. Or rather, a question wondering if you’re crazy. Clear rejection. Are you losing?
“We’d be together, so nothing to fear,” you try further, “and how much time is there till sunrise?” You glance at your watch. “It’s barely half past one. The sun comes up in less than five hours. And like, I know it sounds like a lot, but if you give me some time, I’ll give you reasons to smile.”
He keeps looking at you in this questioning, are-you-fully-mad-manner, but you’re absolutely serious and you need him to know. You bat your eyelashes a little, offering your best laugh, and add, “Like this? If you really want to hate me after that, then okay. If not, then… maybe we could go get coffee someday.”
You’ve spoken enough. He raises a hand, quieting you down, and then finally says it.
“You must be crazy.”
“I am,” you confirm.
“You think I’d do this, huh?”
“…Maaaybe?”
“No.”
Jungkook’s answer is stone cold and direct, and it shuts you up with a near-wince. There’s a faint line between his thick eyebrows, lips pressed together; he looks dangerous and very, very mean.
So you don’t say much for another minute, following when he walks away. You side-eye him, notice him type his destination into his phone. Surrendering, you trudge the path he chooses, soon detecting signs leading to the subway.
He can’t say anything to your presence by his side. Even if his answer remains a steadfast, boring no, you’ll have to go in this direction anyway.
More than halfway through, you venture into a conversation again, “Have you ever tried anything like this before?”
“What? The nonsense you suggested?” he asks, and you nod, catching up with his long legs, slightly slower with your heels. “No. I don’t think I need to.”
“You’re so… don’t you ever try anything new?”
“I mean, is this your definition of something new?” He gestures at your surroundings haphazardly. “Going through town in the middle of the night instead of getting some decent sleep?”
You shrug your shoulders, defending, “It’s not like I do it every day. And nothing one can do every day anyway. That's why I want you to try it.” Your voice is soft, friendly. “But you don’t have to.”
He doesn’t answer; only comes to a halt when a bus stop nears, peeking up to the sign with the number before he asks, “That yours?” You hum in confirmation. “Okay. Will you get home well? It’s late.”
“Yeah, of course,” you pout, kicking off a tiny stone with your shoe, “done it a few times.”
He stalls. You don’t know why, but you’re sure he does. You notice it in his slow movements, the brief pause, the way he looks to the subway he needs to approach and then back to you. You smile when his eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and then he tilts his head, sighs.
“Alright. Then… good night.”
And that’s it.
You tell him to sleep well in return, earning a tiny nod, and then he’s leaving you stranded, walking away. Your eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight, down the escalator to the subway and far, far away from the fun idea you conjured.
You mimic his sigh. Take the two or three steps to the bench under the bus stop; and then you wait.
At this time, public transport operates irregularly, so you’re not surprised when you’re still there minutes later. For a while, you remain alone — that is, until a stranger tumbles to you, swaying before he takes a seat on the other edge of the bench.
You don’t look at him; don’t want his attention on you. But to your discomfort, he garbles just a second later, “This the bus to…”
He gets a hiccup, pointing to the bus sign, and then mumbles the name of the station he needs to reach. You don’t understand, however, so you prod, “What?”
Slower now yet similarly slurred, he repeats his question, but this time, you understand and nod your head yes. He overshares, “It’s just that I’m drunk, so I need to be sure. Sorry for interrupting.”
Suddenly, you feel kind of sorry for him. Your shoulders relax; you observe him letting his arms dangle between his legs, sniffling, incredibly exhausted, it seems. What did the fella experience tonight?
You respond, “It’s okay. It’s really late. Get home well.”
“Thanks. You’re very nice.”
The same finger previously signalling to the sign now points at you; but he doesn’t touch you. In fact, his digits are still a good distance away, already falling when you feel a hand on your elbow out of the blue; you nearly react on intuition, getting into position to break somebody’s nose.
But when your eyes meet the other man’s, you recognise him as the same figure standing tall that abandoned you a couple minutes ago. His hand is still grasping the camera bag strap, and he looks calm, confident when he speaks—
“All good? Sorry, I left for too long, right? Let’s go.”
Your voice changes, a chuckle hidden in it when you blurt, “What?”
“You wanted to take a walk.”
And just like that, the snicker dies again. Is he being serious? It seems so; it’s the whole package, even. The nod towards an entirely different direction and the sudden fingers around your wrist, pulling you away.
“Uhm…” you start, feet moving automatically. You turn to the guy drowning in inebriation, leaving a last, “Good luck!” as you wave, smile. Then, to Jungkook, “I thought you went away. Did you want to do this after all?”
You’re cocking an eyebrow, but much at the back of Jungkook’s head, so he doesn’t see. But it seems he hears the tease in your voice, because half-annoyed, half-argumentative, he explains, “No. Just wanted to be a gentleman. I was going to leave the moment you got on the bus.”
Ah. So he was waiting, hiding somewhere? But you don’t mention it; it’d probably just rile him up more.
Yet, you challenge, “You’re lying. You were concerned and you thought my idea was fun after all.”
“Whatever you say,” he says, waving the white flag, probably just to shut you up, “don’t know if I can do this until sunrise, but I can walk with you for a bit. Get you closer to home. And I swear!”
Now he turns, shooting a stare at you over his shoulders, lightning bolts in the middle of his pupils, “If you’re lying and there’s literally nothing special on our way, I’m actually never talking to you again.”
Nothing easier than that.
“Deal!”
“Cool,” he so nonchalantly remarks, finally letting go of your arm, “which way are you heading then?”
“North-east.”
“Good. Works for me.”
The sun is nowhere near up yet; of course not. It’s 1:37AM. Around four and a half hours.
You’re hopeful. In your head, you imagine an uplifted demeanour in no time; try to guess what his smile might look like. A genuine one. Maybe sweet? Maybe cocky? You’ll find out. You will.
So you straighten your stance, clear your throat, sigh a content breath, and step into the night with the courage the stars lend you.
2:13AM, Her
The first almost forty minutes of your night pass leisurely.
Jungkook’s initial sighs cease soon as you advance into the town, walking down a busy main street. You guess the bustling area, the sounds of the traffic and the lights of the flashing cars relieve him somehow. Give him an excuse to not talk to you.
But as the occupied road ends and you reach and pass a crowded square, you’re back in calm and serene alleys. Some people are still wandering around, passing closed shops, much like you.
You attempt conversation every now and then, and Jungkook, having eventually realised that he needs to cooperate with you — he agreed to your idea after all — isn’t as mad anymore.
At some point, he breathes in the late summer breeze, and your head swerves into his direction immediately — maybe the magic of the night has finally reached his core, too. Perhaps he’s appreciating the journey you set out to embark on.
You, for one, cherish the quiet; you know at least this much. The alley must be part of the older corner of the town because the lampposts seem Victorian. They’re fancy, bent at the top, the light a comforting golden.
You do admire the beauty in the dead of night, you do — but the weirdly bruising feeling on your skin becomes uncomfortably apparent the more you walk. Your heels and the Achilles tendons ache, the ball of your feet sensitive to each step.
For a while, you hide the stupid pain successfully, not wanting the night to end; and you do love the heels. Feel just the way those old romcom’s protagonists probably felt, strutting through town with a man whose life they’d change.
But as an involuntary groan slips out of you, Jungkook’s view changes from the old buildings to your struggling self. His eyes settle on your contorted expression before they move further down to your sudden limp.
He asks, “You good?”
“Yeah, yeah! Just been walking for a while, is all.”
“Hmm,” he hums, regarding your heels with a suspicious look. “Do they hurt?”
“Nah. I’m used to them.”
“…Oookay.”
He drags the word, as if in disbelief; and you can’t lie your way through the minutes when the ache worsens, the suddenly paved path too much of a chore. You nearly trip when your heel gets caught between the stones.
Jungkook immediately reacts when you hiss; you’re nowhere near actually falling, but his arms still reflexively jolt, the camera bag swaying and hitting your hand when he catches your shoulders.
“Okay, seriously,” he spits, eyes wide, “that’s enough. You can’t walk in these.”
“I can!”
“Not!” He takes a look around, inspecting the place; it’s quiet here, not too many cars driving by at all. So he points to the edge of the pedestrian zone, instructing, “Sit down there. Let’s see.”
See what?
You blink, but oblige. His pointing finger is dominant, and his eyes urging; you flatten your dress, taking a seat at the edge. The road isn’t high, so it’s a little uncomfortable; but you’re pleasantly surprised when he appears in front of you, crouching.
Very, very baffled when he requests, “Can you take them off?”
“Sure,” you say, unbuckling the straps around your ankles before removing the shoes. You sigh; you must admit, it does feel great. “I’m honestly okay, though.”
Jungkook doesn’t respond, ignores your statement; instead, asks, “May I?”
You don’t understand what he means until his hands come to a float right over your toes; he wants to check for bruises, doesn’t he? You nod curtly; something about this warms your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of him before.
Not that you ever had the chance to.
He doesn’t really hate you, does he?
Carefully, his fingers reach for your ankle. The touch is warm and pleasant; doesn’t hurt until he moves his thumbs to your heel. Your feet are overworked; you notice. But rather than the annoying pain, you can’t help but focus on your view.
The big, round nose, hiding the plump, parted lips. His eyes look hooded from here, strands of his hair covering them. Intrusive thoughts plead for your fingers to card through the dark mane; it looks soft, pretty.
And the gentleness he handles your skin with fills you with fondness; you like being cared for.
Even when he shakes his head; pulling you out of your daydream. You take a breath, and then inquire, “You don’t have a problem with touching feet?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just feet. Besides,” he stops for a second, detecting something at the back of your foot, shaking his head, “Mom used to work as a nurse. Tough job. I massaged hers sometimes.”
Ah… a loving son, a family person. You smile.
“And I thought you have a foot kink,” you tease.
“Shut up.”
“Found anything?”
“Yeah actually. Do you know how wounded your skin is here? Were you wearing new shoes?”
You gulp with a thin-lipped smile, wondering if he’ll kill you now if you tell him. You look to some random spot on your right before you admit, “Yes.”
“God, you…” He clicks his tongue. Puts your foot on the ground cautiously, reaching for his bag. He rummages through it until he pulls out a bandage, holding it in front of you. “You’re lucky.”
You chuckle, relieved and flattered. “I guess I am.”
He puffs out a laugh, but stops it right away, calling your name under his breath before he says, “God, you’re crazy. Be careful. And admit it when you’re hurt. Why didn’t you?”
Well… you didn’t want the night to end—
“I…”
You hesitate.
He works on your other foot just the same, a tender thumb running over your ankle, probably used to the soothing touch. It distracts you. And when he stops and you don’t answer, he puts his arm on his angled leg, staring up at you in anticipation.
“Yes?” he prods.
“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d care.” Nonchalantly yet pouting, you nibble at your lower lip. “And if I’d told you they’re hurting, you might’ve suggested ending the night.”
He cocks an eyebrow as if agreeing to the most self-explanatory statement ever, nodding as he confirms, “Damn right I would’ve. We should end the night right now if you can’t walk. Not in these, at least.”
Your chest is hot, your stomach twisting a little. Jungkook really does bother; if not due to a connection he shares with you, then simply because he cares for people. Never, you have never experienced him like this before.
With a tilt of your head and a batting of your eyelashes, you suggest, “And if I was barefoot?”
Which he reacts to with a roll of his eyes. “The night isn’t that warm. Don’t do this to yourself. The ground’s dirty, too.”
You take a look at the dark grey pavement upon his argument, much as if the night could allow you to detect any of the dirt he speaks of. Once more, you hum, pretending to contemplate what to do; and when you pick up your heels, suggesting to follow your idea either way, the back of his hand gives your knee the lightest of hits.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Watch.”
He does. Watches you place your spacious, black bag on your lap, opening the zip. Observes as your hand dips in, pulling out one pair of sneakers and replacing them with your treacherous heels. He keeps ogling when you put them on, mouth widening bit by bit.
He doesn’t speak until you’re done, socks picked out of the shoes, pulled over your feet, laces tied. You keep smiling, content with the moment, only dropping the grin when you see his puzzled expression.
“What?” you question.
“You had them with you and… Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
Your answer comes without hesitation; whatever timidity he elicited a moment ago slowly fades again. You clear your throat, back to who you are, and dauntlessly admit, “It was sweet. How you took care of me, I mean. I didn’t think you ever would.”
“But you could’ve at least worn them sooner and avoided the hurt?!”
“Well, it didn’t hurt then…”
“You’re…”
Jungkook uprights himself, towering above you. You put a flat palm onto the pavement, wanting to heave yourself up, but soon see a hand in front of your face. He’s offering it; and you’re quick to take it.
Warm and soft; gentle.
As he pulls you up, you land closer to his body than calculated; his face isn’t too far from yours… much nearer than it has ever been. He leans back; looks to the side; blinks. Clears his throat. Lets go off your hand way too late.
The breath you held escapes in a sudden blow. You swallow.
And when you’ve processed the strange moment, you feel the change in your stance. You’re standing taller now; your feet feel heavenly in your Nikes. Dusting off the front of your dress and your ass, you wait for him to say something.
But he keeps standing there on the road, in the middle of a parking space, hands on his hips. He’s judging you; you understand. Your mindset isn’t for everybody. You might seem crazy, alright.
Yet, he doesn’t scold you again. The up and down of his irked voice doesn’t appear this time when he speaks again; instead, his chin nods towards your legs, and he questions, “So you just carry around shoes with you?”
“I need to,” you say, matter-of-factly, “I can’t ride the motorcycle in heels. And!” Jungkook’s mouth opens, but you’re quick to explain. “Before you ask. No, I didn’t hide my bike anywhere. It needs some fixing, so my co-worker took it because he knows someone who’ll do it. And because he owes me a favour.”
“Right… how unfortunate.” He pauses; runs his tatted digits through the hair you longed to touch minutes ago. They look so silky, it makes you sick. His eyes settle on you, intrigued before he adds, “So, you have a bike, huh?”
“Yeah… why?”
“No reason. I do, too.”
“Mmmh,” you voice, nodding to the road ahead to suggest moving. He follows, trudging next to you again. “You didn’t use it today?”
“No…” He pats the camera bag. “Didn’t want to harm my equipment.”
You hum approvingly, fingers entangling in front of your body. You inch closer to his arm, nudging his shoulder with yours before you flash a sugary smile and say, “Thank you. For caring even a little, you know? Even if you’re always like that, it’s nice to see you like this for once.”
“I’m usually like this,” is what he, however, merely answers, accompanied by air quotes.
But you know you’ve gotten through to him at least a little. Melted bits of the frozen parts of his heart that feel so vexed by you on other nights. In truth, you think, there’s nothing but a delicate organ pumping behind his ribcage.
He’s not a robot; Jeon Jungkook is undeniably humane. If anything, then more than most people you have ever met.
And it shows when he looks away, barely able to hide his smile. You see it even from here — that the gesture does something to his eyes. Nearly squints them shut, makes them smaller, more joyful.
You inhale, proud of yourself. Watch as he toys with his lip rings before he asks eventually, “What do you mean owing you a favour, by the way?”
He sounds almost offended. You think he’ll ask about that favour, reprimand you for giving away your bike tonight of all nights. Tell you off for dragging him here, doing something big enough to entrust an entire motorcycle to somebody.
But instead, he continues with a question you never foresaw, “Are you in a quarrel with them? Am I not your arch-enemy?”
You burst into laughter immediately, covering your mouth as the other palm touches his arm. There’s a bulging bicep under his blazer, but you’ll focus on that later.
Right now, you’re fairly occupied by the satisfied eyes; he doesn’t really expect an answer. He wanted to make you laugh… Why does that set something loose in your brain?
“Oh… are you jealous? What if I told you it’s somebody else who occupies my mind at night and not you?” you wonder, wiggling your eyebrows.
“Don’t do this to me. I’ll find your co-worker and fight them for your enemyship. Word of honour.”
“It’s enmity. And stop flirting with me,” you tell him, moving towards him again, shoulder hitting shoulder. “Or is it something else with arch-enemies?”
This time, he doesn’t veil his grin. It’s bright, pretty, reminiscent of the light shed on you underneath the lampposts. And his pupils; whenever you see them clearly enough, you recognise the sky in them. Borrowed stars inside.
You shake your head a second later, winding down from your fit of laughter, and tell him, “You’re not my arch-enemy. Arch-enemies don’t exist, and you know you aren’t one. You just…” You stall, your voice quieter now. “You just regard me as one.”
He throws you an indecipherable look. Hints of joking, shreds of seriousness, you think. His gaze drifts back to the path again, regarding a passing group of three friends briefly. His hands slide into the pockets of his jacket, and he sniffles once before he utters—
“No, I don't.”
Ah. Ah.
Why do your eyebrows relax the way they do? And your shoulders; already in ease, yet they seem to fall in relief. You peer at him wordlessly; he doesn’t demand an answer, fully aware you’re looking at him.
And you don’t ask what you’ve been to him ever since he saw you at the first party probably a year ago; what irked him, what delighted him. If he thought about you at all.
Instead, you look at the neon words in the next street, asking, “Are you hungry?”
2:19AM, Him
You’re irritating to the core.
You always have been. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit you amused him a little. No matter how much you’ve been wasting his time, you allowed a smile in this ill-lit night. Nobody else at the party did — so in some sense, you’ve already won, and somehow, he’s even grateful.
Grateful that you’re optimistic about the world at least. Glad that you suggested fetching food. Endeared by the way you thanked him for his care. Surprised that you ride a motorcycle! Relieved that you have good humour.
Even though his own humour and smile dissipate after you enter one of the few open stores still providing late night snacks. The girl behind the counter looks tired, but straightens a little when the two of you flash a polite smile.
She greets with a sweet, “Hi!” but Jungkook sees the lethargy in her drooping eyes immediately. Poor girl.
But you’re as enthusiastic as ever; maybe a little more now, maybe observing the same as him. You put your hands on the counter like a child — the image is somewhat cute. But what comes out of your mouth is not.
“Uhm… Could I have a portion of cheese tteokbokki, please? And then… A half and half corndog for my husband.”
Your… what now?
Excuse me?
Jungkook throws an immediate and scorching look your way, utterly surprised. When you meet his eyes, his thick eyebrows are closer than anybody’s ever seen. He huffs your suggestion away, and then corrects, “I’m not her husband. And I’ll take the chicken wrap.”
You chuckle, leaning into him, shielding your mouth with a hand as you warn, “They’re not usually very good at this store. Trust me.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Right. He does. After the disaster of finding the damn bus and the deception caused by your shoes, he won’t trust you very easily anymore. His opinion clearly differs from yours, so he’ll bank on his gut feeling.
Satisfied when you shrug, as if to indicate, “If you say so,” he walks over to the window seats with you in tow, looking out to the peaceful streets. Once seated, he turns towards you, peering until you notice and ask far too purely, “What?”
“Not even your boyfriend, no… Jumped straight to making me your husband, huh?”
The lift of your shoulders brushes his concerns aside; your eyes are incredibly innocent and even somehow playful when you say, “I thought it’d be fun.”
“Was it really?”
“Well, your reaction was funny, at least.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief. You’re courageous, he must admit. Social anxiety must fear you — is that how you live life? Unabashed, spirited, not a sheer care for anything that won’t actually hurt you.
He doesn’t know if you’re insane or if he’s jealous.
But he still reiterates, “You’re crazy. And it was embarrassing.”
“I mean,” you say, moving on your chair, folding your fingers on top of the counter but still looking at him, “it was embarrassing because you made it. It’s honestly whatever.” You blow a raspberry, and then take a swing again, “Why is it awkward anyway? We’ll never be here together again.”
He whispers a hushed, “Thankfully,” and you tap the counter with a click of your tongue. He gets it; you live differently. That’s fine. As long as you don’t pull him into your mischief, it’s fine.
Right?
He’s right, isn’t he? He knows that in his personal opinion he is; yet, he can’t help but feel that sting, suddenly deeming himself as boring. You’re never bored, are you?
Anyway…
“Even if you do something like this again,” he tells you, “at least tell me.”
“I mean, that would kinda prevent your genuine reactions from happening, but… if it makes you happy.” You grin at him, and he scoffs; wants to say something before the girl calls for you. “Food is ready.”
A couple seconds later, the two of you have settled back into place; at the sight of the snack, Jungkook salivates. He didn’t realise how hungry he actually was. The buzz and fuzz of a party makes one forget such an essential thing fast.
Or maybe, he was just immersed in his work.
The chicken smells good, at least. Or are these your tteokbokki? He can’t quite discern the scent right now; his mind is fogged by his appetite. Silently, he unwraps his food, swallowing before he digs into the wrap.
So far, so good… seems edible. He keeps chewing; swallows some more. But as the taste starts to sink in and he realises the sogginess of the wrap, the lack of proper sauces and the dryness as well as the blandness of the chicken…
He pauses. Where… are the flavours?
Slowing down, he glances at his meal. Inspects it as if he’s holding an entirely new recipe in his hands. A look of realisation creeps upon his face, unaware of your gaze, and he soon hears an amused snicker from the side.
You don’t say much when your eyes align. Only, “And?”
He knows he’s already lost when his expression changes, cringing; when he can’t answer right away, only gaping at you in confusion. Still thinking about where this recipe went wrong.
He answers, “It’s fine…”
But you catch his obvious lie; he sees it in the way you smile so devilishly. Cocking an eyebrow, enjoying another bite of your snack without ever averting your eyes. Then, you put the tiny wooden fork back into the dish, propping your cheek on your fist.
You wait; he doesn’t know what for. For him to eat again? Maybe; because you soon ask, “Do you want something else?”
“Nah.” His answer is instant this time. “I can do this. I’m an omnivore.”
“Ah, yeah. An omnivore friend right here.” You laugh, curious when he takes another bite. And then, “Jungkook, it’s okay to admit…”
But he won’t listen. Only makes a disapproving sound, stuffing his mouth with another horrendous bite. Shit; he can’t confess that you were right. That you were actually right this time.
Suddenly, he’s craving a cup of ramyeon.
But he should keep eating. Wash it down with his drink, empty the soda. And he’s almost halfway through when he notices a movement from your direction, like you’re playing with your food.
Only, he realises that you are not; rather separating the tteokbokki in two halves before shoving the porcelain dish towards him. He shakes his head, but you persist, “Take it, man.”
It does look good…
But… are you going to use the satisfaction his defeat may give you? Probably. But fuck… Fuck it.
Reluctantly, he lets the wrap fall onto the small plate, gulping down the remainder of what he just bit off, and then, accepts your generosity with a nod. And… whether it’s because of the disappointment the wrap brought or the late hunger…
Jungkook thinks he’s levitating above clouds, floating towards the sun.
It’s good. Very damn good.
And when you ask again this time, “Should we get another?” his nod comes promptly, chest risen in satisfaction as he states, “That’d be great.”
“Alright. Be right back.”
“Nah,” he says, lifting an arm as if to protect you. Mid-action, you halt, sliding back up onto your seat. “Stay here. I’ll get it… All good.”
So he does; enjoys the look of surprise when his other hand even carries dessert, four pieces of matcha mochi ice cream. He says, “This is for you.”
You gasp. He can’t deny that it’s sweet — the elation, the big eyes, the palms coming together in delight. How you look between the food and him, suddenly wiggling your feet.
“You seem to like it,” he notes, and you nod feverishly, telling him that, “Yes! Been craving it since we came in. Thank you!”
“Oh. You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve gotten it. No worries.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to see if my dessert stomach still allowed anything. Didn’t disappoint me today.”
Jungkook gets to his own tteokbokki, halving it in the middle the way you did, pushing it towards you. It’s weird to think about it like this, but — considering how long the two of you have known each other, you might almost look like… friends.
And you don’t feel quite like an enemy either. You’re even… kind of nice. Friendly; harmless.
“I’m glad,” Jungkook responds, only looking towards the entrance when another group of three friends, two girls, a guy, enter. Then back to you, “Sorry. You were right. This,” he points to the poor, sad wrap, “was shit.”
“See? My first instinct almost never lies. And I know this store from other places… the wraps are never good.”
“Sure, but… your first instinct isn’t always right, though, is it? You did get us lost, so it was wrong at least once.”
“Hm… was it, though?”
Jungkook regards you in confusion as you put another piece on your tongue, working on the chewy thing as he asks, “What do you mean? We had no clue where we w—”
“Yeah, I mean. I agree. But… I don’t think it was that wrong. Because—”
You lick your lips clean off the tteokbokki sauce, smacking them. You look child-like, but pretty when you indulge in your element, uncaring about everything, just living. Maybe it’s not that bad that you’re bold.
And maybe, just maybe, he can power through this night easily after all; especially if you keep saying things that soothe his chest, things like—
“Because my first instinct brought me to you.”
2:49AM, Him
The temperatures are falling as the night proceeds, and the second portion of the mochi ice cream adds to the pleasant chill.
Jungkook wonders how you’re doing; your dress is skimpier than his jeans, and your arms bare. But your stance and your speech are still inconspicuous, skin free of goosebumps, your walk elegant, leisurely.
Judging from your occasional hums and your ceaseless optimism, you’re enjoying this journey. It almost makes him feel bad; guilty about how adamantly he refused all this just an hour ago.
It hasn’t been too bad. Sure, you’re bold and intrepid, and yeah, in some ways he is, too — but his courage stems from other motivations. From adrenaline-loaded activities or joyful, temporary pains. Like his tattoos; his motorcycle; the summer he bungee-jumped for the first time.
You’re a different kind of daring; you challenge your limits in crowds and consider life a respectful joke. You don’t ever hurt anyone, he doesn’t think — you just go and see how far you can push yourself.
Perhaps in some sense, the two of you complement each other while simultaneously seeming to be cut from the same wood. Perhaps you’re different, but then again, not so much.
You’re quiet; you weren’t until you left the snack bar. As for now, however, you seem distracted, swallowing heaps of your dessert as you scan the surroundings you’ve led the two into. You’re somewhat unfazed by it, yet peering as though you’ve been here before.
Which, in retrospect, makes sense. You’ve been wanting to show him places you enjoy after all.
When the silence extends, Jungkook, along with the chirping of the nightlife, breaks it with a, “You know what?”
Your head swerves to his side, the wooden fork in your mouth. The pure gaze you give him throws him off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat sweet. But as he regains himself, he says, “I didn’t think we’d get to a housing scheme here. The main street is super close, but the vibe is so different.”
“I know. It’s a little scary at night when you’re alone. Gives very Desperate Housewives, doesn’t it? Secrets veiled behind shut curtains.” You draw closer, imitating a spooky gesture. “But I liked coming here when I was younger.”
Bingo. He thought so.
“Ah… why?”
“My friend lived here,” you explain with a tilt towards a random direction; he doubts the friend lived in just the house you gestured to, “she’s long moved out of course, but we’d play on these streets back then. Most of the neighbours knew me, too!”
Jungkook tsks, hauling his own bite out of the cup, and you add, “No, seriously! We could just knock at anybody’s door here, and they’d let me in.”
“Not if they moved out, too. A lot of time has passed.”
You bob your head. “Time has passed indeed. It does so pretty fast.”
“Doesn’t it?”
You seem to get into overdrive, gearing up; he didn’t think this topic would rev you up like this, but it appears you have a somewhat firm and fond opinion about the passing of time. Jungkook recognises the sentiment before you speak — the light of the lampposts reflects in your eyes like glitter.
Only, he doesn’t foresee what you say next, your tone teasing through the joy you display—
“Yeah! Like. Do you remember when I told you to not get the wrap and you still di—”
“Shut up.”
The roll of his eyes isn’t anything new; but the faint feeling that accompanies it, something akin to amusement, certainly is.
“Okay, but. Seriously,” you start again, sly smirk falling, voice neutralising the mock, “it felt different here. Because like, you know, where I live, it gets crowded. I’m not too far from the city centre, so… this place always felt really peaceful to me. Jieun and I played together a lot.”
Jungkook frowns.
“Jieun?”
“Hm? Oh. The friend I spoke about? She’s pretty cool.”
“Ah… Right, right.”
“Mhmm,” you hum, the end of your small fork tapping the bottom of the nearly finished cup, “you know another way to know that time passes really fast?” You pause for effect, then add, “It’s been ages since we saw each other for the first time.”
“Right. At a party, too, right? When was that anyway?”
“Hmm… Like.” You ponder, blinking, looking up to the sky. “Like two years ago?”
Jungkook’s eyes widen; if you’d asked him, he would’ve estimated a year tops. If he digs in his memory thoroughly enough, he could probably even remember what you wore that day; what you looked like.
It doesn’t feel like two years. You’re right — time truly does pass like the wind.
“Wow,” he exclaims, “it’s been this long since you started pestering me?”
“Shut up,” it’s your turn to blurt, your body swaying towards him until you push him to the side of the vacant road. “I didn’t even come near you most of the time.”
“I know, I know. You were fun to look at, though. Seemed to enjoy yourself every single time.”
Shit, why did he say that? Shouldn’t he hold onto the image he fostered; the one that’s permanently irked by you, throwing snarky remarks throughout the night?
And…
Didn’t this just break the banter, the frenemyship — frenmity? — the two of you have going on? Was it too nice? It’ll probably surprise you. Then again, is he a damn child? Why would he worry about such things? Question his own kindness?
Why would he hold onto his ego and deny you his humane side when you’ve been nothing but lovely to him all night?
The young adult rivalry is over, Jeon Jungkook. Look at her and fucking admit that you’re the arrogant one.
But funnily enough, you don’t seem to notice anyway.
“Hmmm, I do love my job,” you answer, “I have a lot of fun organising stuff. Doing something good for other people, right? See them enjoy it. I mean, of course there are days when things don’t go as planned, but.”
You lift a shoulder, indulging in the final remnants of your chewy mochi and the melted matcha ice cream inside.
“I know. It happens to me, too.”
“Really? How?”
Jungkook waves towards the sky, lists, “Heavy rain, lots of traffic, too spontaneous, issues with the camera… etcetera. Anything can happen.”
“Yeah — I get it. But yeah, I do love doing this. I meet a lot of nice people, too. And I guess that makes me feel very… blessed? It puts things into perspective.”
“How so?”
“Like, it makes you see that most people aren’t bad.”
Huh. Odd. Not that he’d ever deem the entire globe vile, putting a standardised label that he can impossibly prove. But as far as he has seen… too many people aren’t good either.
“Really?” he asks. “That’s a lucky thing to experience.”
You look genuinely surprised, turning towards him when you ask, “You don’t?”
“Uhm — rarely. I do enjoy photography. Always have.” His mind zooms into a glinting memory from the past, and his shoulders and voice rise when he recalls, “Y’know… My dad got me one of those yellow disposable Kodak cameras when I was a kid. I loved it so much.”
You nod; if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say you look… delighted. Actually interested.
“And events and weddings,” he continues, “they’re beautiful to capture. It’s probably the lights and the pretty people. And just… the memories?”
This time, he looks away, straight to the road; if he hadn’t, he’d know that your gaze is definitely fond now. No doubt about it. You listen in closely.
It’s the first time he’s talking to you like this, or to anyone — or for this long, for that matter. Most of your conversations were fleeting, fiery, a petulant back and forth that — he now realises — could’ve been something else, something better, too.
“But then it just sucks when so many of them can’t appreciate it properly,” he explains, raising his hands to emphasise, tone galled. “I mean, I look at my camera and I see a tool to create art. It’s… nothing I take for granted. Just think about it.”
The ball of fire in his chest grows; he feels it warm up, gassed-up. “A thing that can hold onto moments in absolute high definition, so that you can still remember them years later? The 18th century couldn’t have imagined. They needed to commit everything to memory just like that.”
“Wow, Jungkook… You really do love this, too.”
His arms fall to the side. He inhales the fresh flurry of air. Rethinks his passion for his job and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”
“…But?”
He knows what’s missing.
“I love the art, but I hate the clients. The event hosts. Not you, but the one even above you.”
Jungkook reckons this was a confession that long sat on his tongue unmentioned. Of course he thought about it; is always reminded when he attends these functions, standing at the back, at the front, left and right, unnoticed and taken for granted.
But now that it’s out and that he’s finally verbalised it to somebody… it definitely liberates something in his head.
You see his issue with these gatherings; he knows you do because he’s figured out this much. You’re filled with enough empathy, sympathy, every grand word ending on the same syllable to acknowledge his disappointment.
But you’re filled with humour and absurdity, too, evident in the answer you provide to diffuse the tension.
“So, that’s why you’re always in a foul mood.”
“Shu—”
“Shut up, yeah, yeah.” You giggle, but then halt for a moment, toying with the rim of your paper cup, “But you know, I think art is worth something even if just one person appreciates it. If it helps in any way… I’m always impressed. And I always appreciate it when I call you and you come despite finding me so annoying.”
One corner of your lips lifts, the smile humble and light; sends a pang of guilt through him. Have you always been so nice?
“Also, I do see the pictures almost every single time,” you add, “and you’re so good at this. At the job itself and the editing afterwards. Honestly.”
“…You think?”
Damn.
Jungkook would probably not bask in this hobby, continue his job if he wasn’t proficient in what he does. He’s known about his prowess ever since he was young.
But praises do offer a sense of magical warmth, don’t they? He doesn’t think any creative mind ever sickens of such unexpected support. And the way you say it… makes him want to never lay down his camera.
“Of course, yes,” you confirm, “not to shoot up your ego, but… you once sent a set of pictures where I found one of me. Don’t know if you even noticed? I was wearing that lilac dress and curls, I still remember — and—”
Stuck on the mention of your clothing, he immediately attaches a detail to the memory, “Sleeveless dress. Long silver earrings, right?”
“Oh… right…”
Right.
He won’t mention that he looked at that picture for just a second longer than at the others that night. Noticed for the first time how pretty you were. Not too deep of a thought, a twelve second stare, but… you wore this vibrant smile on that picture, and in some way, he did hope you’d see it, too.
It seems you did. He feels satisfied, proud even.
“Right,” you repeat, your defences somehow down, “uhm. I printed the picture. Still have it somewhere.”
Jungkook has already often wondered what people do with the pictures; put them in albums? Frame them and pin them over their couch? Right now, he also wonders — do you look at it a lot?
And this again begs the question — when you do, does your decision to book a vendor like him fill you with pride? Like your choice was right?
“That’s so nice,” he says.
“All that to say,” you inhale, “that I think you’re really fucking skilled.”
Woah. You weren’t quite certain if your consolation would bring him any solace, but you’ve done far more than that. You’ve shown him that you see what he does — and isn’t this what every artist craves? To be seen?
The tension buzzes between him and you like electricity; he doesn’t know if it’s just him lighting up or if you’re feeling a kindred link, too. But it’s somewhat intense in this moment of walking under the stars, surrounded by quietude and absolute pose.
So much so that he’s soon submerged by an odd urge to make the intensity wane, “Hey, does this feel to you like… a cliché chick flick kinda dialogue?”
You know…
The moment when two find an empty street in the middle of the night, realising that a conversation with each other isn’t the end of the world after all?
That type of thing?
But he doesn’t say any of it.
“Yeah? Maybe. But it’s also true,” you argue, “I’m an honest person and I don’t think I’d say anything I didn’t mean.”
“Ah, yeah?” Jungkook voices, taking the emptied out ice cream cup and throwing it into the bin on the side of the road, along with his own.
“Mhm, one hundred percent,” he hears you say, followed by a light, quiet smacking noise.
He doesn’t see what you’re doing until he arrives back where you stand; watches you lick the sticky rest off the pad of your thumb, smiling when you stare up at him again. It’s a mundane gesture; he’s done it ever since he was a kid.
But somehow, he can’t stop looking.
Might be the way your lips curve when you do it, or how your eyes smile when your mouth does. The authenticity you portray is rare; perhaps he just confused it with madness until now.
Seconds pass, and with that, your smile does, too. As it fades and drops, replaced by a curious expression and big eyes, you soon mutter, “What?”
There’s no response to that, really. He doesn’t know either.
He doesn’t understand how you turned out to be so right. How it’s such an ultimate truth that a serene night brings out a dreamy alter ego, hitherto undetected. Jungkook has never felt like much of a romantic, but right now, he thinks he’s on a different plane of reality.
This doesn’t feel like Earth; and the town doesn’t feel like the one he struts through during the day.
So maybe it’s not that wayward or groundless for him to lean in. To bend a bit more. Further and further until you laugh nervously; he knows you’re preparing to crack another joke, but you remain silent as he approaches.
Gauges your reaction. Will you run? You aren’t.
Instead, you gulp; let your pupils fall to his piercings, just when his own gaze moves to your lips. His right hand, tattooed, led by its own will, reaches for your cheek until he’s cupping it; and suddenly, his mouth parts — what’s happening? — and then—
And then, a vehicle roars from afar.
Both of you hear the motorcycle before you even see the blinding white light; he grips your arm, probably too harshly, dodging the street with you and jumping onto the pedestrian walk.
One must be crazy to still drive through the city at this hour. Right?
You pant, mixed with insane chuckles of relief, “Shit. We almost died.”
“We didn’t,” he refutes, “we had plenty of time.”
“Oh no,” you stretch the last word, eyes squinting. An accusing forefinger points at him before you deduce, “We almost died because you like me. Of all things!”
“I do not. You just looked kinda cute.”
Jungkook might’ve attempted an indifferent answer, but instead, he steered into an excuse that you do not accept at all. Your smirk is telling and satisfied, and if he wasn’t trying to prove a point, your Cheshire Cat grin would’ve made him laugh, too.
“But you did almost kiss me,” you persist.
Ugh, you’re bold. Laughing like it means nothing; no embarrassment, no shy restraint in you. Which is probably not too bad; somehow even charming. Explains the rosy dust on his cheeks at least. He feels it in the heat, can’t believe he almost kissed you just now.
Why does he feel like a hormonal adolescent? It’s not like he’s never kissed anybody.
You’re still enclosed by pure delight, nudging his arm repeatedly, annoyingly. And when he doesn’t answer, choosing reticence instead, you nearly shriek, as if he confirmed all you just said.
His instinctive hand slaps up to your mouth, covering it, shushing you. You’re still smiling, working on removing his palm, but before your nonsense can proceed, a sudden light flickers in the corner of Jungkook’s eye.
Immediately, he seeks out the source, soon finding a room in the house left to him lighting up. You woke somebody, it seems. A silhouette becomes clearer, its edges more refined with every second, and just before the owner of the place can shove the curtains aside, you grip Jungkook’s hand.
Within a moment, he finds himself tugged away by you, running, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You blurt, “Better get away before they kill us.”
As you leave the tranquil settlement behind, Jungkook still hears a voice from an open window, cursing the younger generation as they do; and then, out of the damn blue, a fucking dog barks.
When you turn over your shoulder, mouth dropping open, Jungkook knows you’re thinking the same as him — this happens outside of cinematic universes, too?
It takes a minute until you’ve reached another road again; one of the kind he’s more familiar with. The city type. The two of you come to a halt near some pole, and you let his hand go, leaning against it.
For a moment, you work on catching your breath, Jungkook’s hands settling on his thighs. And then, when your eyes meet, you burst into a fit of laughter, followed by a playful wiggle of his eyebrows to which you respond, “Don’t act innocent. This is your fault.”
“What? You were lau—”
“Because of you! Oh, I know you want me so bad.”
You’re jesting, of course. Swaying your head, poking his chest, a brat straight out of some TV show. But what you can do, he’s been perfecting for years.
So he answers in kind, “And if I did?”
Only for you to utter something that not even his brain can compute.
“If you did? Then… I think I’d let you.”
“Ah… Yeah? Why?”
“Because— I think you’re just half as bad.”
His snicker is half amused, half flattered. He purses his lips, nodding, and then declares, “You’re just a quarter as bad. But guess I’ve gotten so tired that I’ve started doing weird shit.”
You click your tongue, puffing out a breath, instantly reacting when he only flicks your chin and then walks away. Your startled expression prevails, a distance between him and you established, but just as he puts his hands in his jeans, he hears you finally follow.
“Hey,” you voice from behind, tapping his arm, “are you really tired?”
“I was kidding, but. Honestly? A little.”
“…Hmm. You know, my friend lives in an apartment nearby. Jieun? Didn’t move too far from her old home. We could stop there.”
Jungkook’s left eyebrow leaps up, surprised by the suggestion; the idea doesn’t sound too bad. But…
“Wasn’t the deal to go around for a whole night, though?”
“Ohhh. Are you starting to like it?”
You’re observant, he’ll give you that.
“I’m just saying,” he adds, “and also, would she just let a stranger in?”
“Oh, she’s very civilised and hospitable. She wouldn’t mind, and she’s known me for ages. She trusts me.” Maybe you detect the hesitation in his eyes and the twitch of the corner of his lips, because you immediately carry on, “We can just stay for an hour and then go.”
“Would she be awake, even?”
“She’s a night owl. I know that.”
“Uhm…”
He ponders. In some way, he’s kind of liking the breeze, the quiet side of this town. But… would Jieun find that weird? Then again, can he say no? You’re ogling at him with these hopeful eyes; maybe you need the rest, after all.
“Okay,” he says; he even thinks you jump a bit in joy, nodding.
“Okay! You’ll like her. We can leave with newfound energy afterwards. Okay, cool.”
That’s all you need to lead the way. You look around a little, making sure you’re approaching the right direction, and when you find your confidence again, you march ahead.
Your walk is energetic, not too idle anymore, your beam as dashing and fervid as ever. Jungkook knows his way around editing programs; he’s added wings to pictures before or removed unwelcome passersby on an otherwise great photo.
He even understands how to surround a body or silhouette with a glow; but he’s never seen it around an actual person outside of all these graphics editors before.
Your body is so clearly encircled by it.
Bedazzling.
Screw the 18th century. Even in these modern times of advancement, Jungkook doesn’t think he needs a camera to commit you to memory.
3:25AM, Her
You avert your eyes from the phone and turn towards Jungkook, reaching him where he’s planted firmly in front of the apartment complex. He’s been waiting, back settled against the wall, and as you near, his eyebrows rise in question.
Your friend didn’t respond until now — but just as you foretold, she’s still awake at this ungodly hour.
“Okay. She’s home, but,” you explain, already ringing the bell to her apartment, “she said she’d be leaving soon. Sounds like she’s in a rush. Typos and all.”
Jungkook waits until the buzzing sound of the opening door ceases and you’ve stepped inside, leading him up the stairs, and then wonders again with big eyes, “And she’ll just let us stay? Alone at her apartment?”
You wave his concerns off with a hand’s gesture, “She trusts me, dude. I’ve done this a couple times.”
“What for?”
Hm… you dive back into the old days. Some new, some old. What were they again? They’re mostly blurred, but some of them are carved in your core memory.
“Oh, just…” you reminisce. “If I wanted to meet guys and wouldn’t want to bring them home back when I was still with my parents? Or when I’d need a night to sober up. They would’ve killed me if I’d come home drunk. And Jieun moved out early.”
“How old is… Jieun anyway?”
Old. Not really, but you like to vex her to the point of a pout. She’s patient, but she’s also an incredibly close friend — you allow yourself to be a brat with her and she allows herself to roll her eyes.
“Early 90s kid?” you guess. “A little older than us.”
‘93, as far as you remember.
“Ah. Damn,” he voices; you don’t know why.
“Okay.” You climb the last steps to the second floor, halting in front of a white door with a copper number six on top of it. Knock thrice. “Here goes.”
She might’ve been getting ready close to the door, working on her shoes or questing for her keys. Because she opens mere three seconds later, with a radiant smile on her face able to melt hearts, and a comfortable attire that’s, however, not comfortable enough to wear at home.
A thin sweatshirt and a bun, loose strands framing her pretty face, and shorts that are definitely meant to be worn outside. She won’t be here for long. And you’re focused on this very fact and her hurry so much that you nearly don’t register how shy Jungkook gets.
His voice is somewhat smaller than before when he looks at her; your eyes shift to him, and he’s blinking before he finally breaks and mutters, “Oh. Hi.”
“Hey!” she retorts; she looks so sweet saying it. You understand his perplexity. “Date?”
“Nah. Just a friend,” you answer, which, yet again — very confusing — makes him hum in question. If he started regarding himself as your date all of a sudden, you swear…
You smile.
“Just a friend,” you repeat.
“Fabulous. So you’re not walking around alone, at least,” Jieun concludes, letting you in. In the living room, a hand on her kitchen island, she points through an open door, “Okay, so, the guest room bed is made. Use blankets on it, if you want to rest.”
Her finger shifts to signal to the entrance you came through, imitates a pulling motion, “Don’t worry about locking the door whenever you leave. Also got some leftover food in the fridge, but there’s also cup ramyeon and some frozen pizza in the freezer. Sorry… I need to go shop—”
But you interrupt, shaking your head, “Oh, no worries, really. We just ate, so we’ll just stay here for a little, work off the food coma and leave. Won’t damage anything.”
“I know you won’t, baby.”
She moves to fetch her purse from the couch, and Jungkook uses the moment to whisper in your ear, “Where is she going anyway?”
You don’t know; you shrug your shoulders, pursing your lower lip, but echo his question a moment later, louder than him, “Where are you going anyway?”
Previously cramming in her purse, checking it for content, she looks at you again, telling you, “Ah… Jongsuk is having a bad night and wants me to come over.” Regarding Jungkook, she adds, “My boyfriend. He’s an insomniac and got stoned tonight, too, and just—”
Jieun blows a raspberry, raising a hand for a whatever gesture, and Jungkook mumbles, “Oof. Sounds…”
“Yeah… I know. In any case. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”
“Yes. Thank you so much.”
“Thanks, Jieun,” you repeat.
She nods once more, waving her tiny hand and flashes one last smile before she’s out the door and has left you in full silence. You shuffle your feet for just a second before you look at him again; he still looks somewhat in a daze.
So you ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Hm? Nothing.”
Nothing, right… that’s what they all say after seeing Lee Jieun for the first time. You try not to think too hard about the teeny tiny sting in your enormous, delicate heart. Only let him know, “Don’t worry too much. What could happen? She does trust me.”
You take a couple steps towards the bedroom she offered you, and you hear him follow. Look at the neatly made bed, a thought occurring; but you don’t entertain it yet. Only add, “Besides, she owes me.”
He chuckles. “That’s how you live your life, huh?”
“It’s alright. We’ll just be here for an hour. She’s known me all her life, so nothing to doubt here. And also, think about it,” the tip of your forefinger taps against your temple, “even if something did happen or went missing, she’d know where to find me and whom to report.”
He waits, ogles at you. Then presses his lips together, nods as if you made all the sense in the world, and lifts a shoulder — agreeing, “If you say so. Then uhm — let’s lay down for a bit?”
“Sure! I’ll just sleep in her room, so you can have your privacy here.”
“Mhm. Okay.”
You stand at the door frame for a moment, feet unmoving.
He’s already turned away. And you regret not walking away when you watch him unabashedly take off the blazer and provide a glimpse to his snatched waist as inked fingers scratch his back briefly, shirt moving up. But then it’s covering his skin again.
Flawless back; pretty golden. A little further up, and you’re sure you would’ve seen strong shoulder blades, too. He’s worn fancy dress shirts at luxurious events before — you know many would kill for his built, because you’ve seen his bicep flex before.
You forget where you are for a second, but when he opts to turn, eyes on you for just a heartbeat, you stir. Blurt out an awkward apology, and then leave. Wish him a good night, barely waiting for one back before you close the door.
You laugh quietly at yourself.
Her room is just next door; you already mentally prepare for a nap. Meanwhile, Jungkook plumps onto the bed, groaning when the comfort hits, and works on getting used to the ceiling, if only briskly.
He only notices how much his head is spinning when he closes his eyes, ready to doze off. Should he set an alarm? He doesn’t want to still be here by the time Jieun returns. Maybe he should tell you, too.
But his body won’t move.
Yet, in the time he’s failed to make up his mind, he suddenly hears a knock at the door again. Must be you — must be telepathy.
He tells you to enter, and you do with a shy demeanour; only thirty seconds must have passed, right? A minute, tops. He looks at you in wonder, and you explain, “She uh— locked her room. No clue where the keys are. Guess that’s why she specifically pointed out the guest room.”
You nibble your lip, getting no answer back. He looks just as much out of ideas as you, and you still refuse to bring back the thought from before; yet, you ask, “What do we do now?”
“Well…” He looks around, though there is not much to take in. “I can sleep on the couch?”
“…The couch is too small.”
“Okay. Then I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He’s already working on getting up, no hesitation, scratching through his now messy hair, feet moving on the fluffy carpet. “I’ll take one of those pillows, though. Carpet should be good eno— what are you doing?”
You’ve charged towards the bed, climbed past him until you’re sitting behind him, facing his back and his craning neck. You say, “I’m not giving you that pillow.”
“Why?”
“You can’t sleep on the floor.”
“…Why not?”
You throw an unbelieving look, as if it’s obvious. Your flat hand gestures towards the carpet vaguely, and you argue, “It’s uncomfortable.”
“Listen, I should. This or the couch, nothing else left.” It’s crazy to you how he doesn’t even consider the bed instead of giving it up for you. “It’s just an hour. Don’t worry about it.” He stretches a hand towards you, curling his fingers in a grabby motion. “Come on. Gimme that.”
You’re astonished — beyond pleased about the fact that he cares like this. That he’s so… mindful and humble. You give up; he won’t falter and you know.
“Okay… then take this blanket, too.”
He grabs the second one that Jieun provided, head bowing a little as he says, “Thank you.”
The proceeding minutes you spend preparing for bed, slightly discomforted by your dress, pass in half-awkward, half-comfortable silence. He lays down on his unusual spot, and you cuddle into the blanket on your light, soft side.
As the rustling of blankets and sheets subsides, it gives way to the sound of the ticking clock; you focus on it, count the clicks like sheep.
But sleep doesn’t quite fall upon you yet, and you guess Jungkook feels similar when he calls your name and asks, “What does she owe you?”
Your head moves towards his voice, even though he can’t see you. “Huh?”
“Jieun. What does she owe you? And your coworker.”
“Oh. Uh. Honestly, just kindness.”
You can already see it — doe eyes rolling at another one of your cryptic answers. You know people don’t fathom your thoughts very well, and some feel annoyed by your dreamy outlook of the world. You don’t mind, but you wonder what he’s thinking.
But all he responds with is, “What?”
“Well, just. They’ve known me for ages. I’ve been there for Jieun for so long, and Jongin has always been so incredibly nice to me. Picked me up when I was dead drunk once and brought me home. Got me medicine and everything. And I’ve lent him some comfort over the years, too.”
It hasn’t been too long, so you remember. You’ve been good friends with him ever since you started your job; a steady part of your team. He and you have got each other’s back.
“These two are friends,” you say, “and I think kindness is the most we can give our loved ones.”
Jungkook hesitates. Have you bored him to sleep? Or is he pondering your words, thinking of you as weird? Maybe not—
Because he actually converses, asking, “You think? Doesn’t that mean we’re just kind to them then, so they can be kind to you in return?”
“I mean… yes and no. Owing might be the wrong word. I’m not nice to others to get something back. I’m like this because I want to be and because the world can be shitty and it’s important to be nice, and in return, I want people to be nice to me, too. It’s not an eye to eye kind of thing, it’s just about. Spreading affection in relationships. It’s what they’re here for.”
“…Hm. Is this why you’re never rude to me? Even when I deserve it,” he asks, registering a hum. “You know… you think really… uniquely.”
This is a nice way to phrase it at least. People like you; you’re good with them. But sometimes, they can be mean, too. Not that you mind. It’s natural — people occur in all types and shapes.
“But is it unique, though? Isn’t it a given?” you question.
“Yeah, probably, I just— never thought of it this deeply.”
“Mmmh. So is me thinking uniquely a compliment? I can’t say.”
He laughs, and you join immediately, exclaiming an, “I’m serious!” in the middle of it all. Jungkook’s snicker is authentic, so you enjoy hearing it; but you like his answer even better.
“Maybe. I just… I feel like a lot of people try to be different these days. Or play a role to be perceived a certain way? But I think you’re genuine — you actually mean the things you say without any hidden intention to make people forcefully like you, right?”
An intention? Oddly phrased. You think, though… that what he said was nice.
Still, you confirm, “I don’t try to be anyone for people to like me.”
“I didn’t say otherwise! This is actually just what I meant. Besides, people like you anyway because you’re you.” As if he’s reading your mind. “That’s what I was saying.”
You hum, blinking at the ceiling and the little modern light hanging there, the beam off. The darkness pleasant. You conjure another question and ask, “So you think me being me is a good thing?”
You always considered it was. You like being you. But Jungkook didn’t like whatever makes up your personality — has this changed? Apparently.
“Of course,” he surprisingly answers, “it’s always a good thing. And just because I disagree with some of your characteristics, it doesn’t mean everybody will.” Oh. Well. But wait— “Or maybe, I’m just a moaner.”
Well.
“That you are,” you verify.
“Damn.”
“But, but— you’re kind, too, you know? Not everyone says the things you just said.”
“Maybe.”
“So…” you stall, rethinking his prior words. “Do you still disagree with all those characteristics of mine?”
Another joyous sound tumbles out of him, much in the form of a breather than a laugh; hushed, but you still hear it clearly. Perhaps you’re being a little awkward; but in all honesty, you hope he’s just finding it amusing, somewhat cute.
“I mean — you’re too blunt. But brave, like, I could never. The thing you did at the shop? Never. But this isn’t bad. And you aren’t bad.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His voice is a whisper. Reminds you of a feeling akin to temptation; your mind automatically imagines the susurrating sound near your ear, exhaling the very syllable he just did. Frankly, you’re absolutely tortured by the knowledge of him being this close.
That you could probably touch his face if you rolled over to the edge of the bed, letting your arm dangle, seeking his skin. That he’s in the same room, talking to you this gently, saying things that a girl doesn’t hear too often these days anymore.
There it is. The intrusive thought from before… prevailing.
And you’re tortured by it. But mostly, by the image of him standing in front of you between the houses just a little time ago, staring at you, pupils flitting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he neared you. How he almost kissed you.
You might’ve joked about it then, but deep down, and especially now, you’re intrigued by the idea. Of the fantasy of a what if — what if he’d actually kissed you?
Taking a deep breath, you look to the side, staring at the door and call, “Hey, Jungkook.”
“Hm?”
“Is it uncomfortable down there?”
“Uh… a little.”
You shuffle at your spot, turning to the side. “Just thinking. What good does it do if we don’t rest well? What are we here for?”
“…What are you talking about?”
Pause. Quietude. You close your eyes, then open them again.
You’re never shy; so you don’t deem it an advantage for yourself to turn timid now either. You tell him, “Come up. I know you want to. I know I want you to.”
He doesn’t say anything; you bite your tongue. Maybe it was a mistake. But then his voice chimes again, wondering, “Are you sure?”
Your answer is immediate.
“Of course. Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay… okay.”
As he starts to move, you gulp. You make place on the bed, moving to your previous side, pushing the blanket aside in case he wants to slip under it, too. The motions of his silhouette seem uncertain as he makes his way up to you, as if he’s uncomfortable with it.
“I… Was I wrong…? Do you not want to?” you make sure.
“What?” you hear him say; see his head shake. “Ah, that’s not it. Just want to make sure you’re really okay with it. I’m not the type of guy to…”
“I know. It’s fine. I don’t think you are.”
“Okay.” The mattress bulges where he lays down before it evens out again. He emits a couple groaning sounds, probably glad to give his back something proper. You turn to him just when he says, “Honestly… that’s a little better, yeah.”
“Thought so. Are you tired?”
“Definitely.”
“But you’re not sleeping.”
“Because you’re talking.”
Wrong. There was enough silence for him to nod off before. He was the one who started the conversation at all; you were ready to turn and toss and rest eventually.
When you don’t respond, his head turns on his pillow, too; in the darkness that you got used to, you see his eyes twinkle. Both of you know that you’re looking at each other. And he’s kind of close — closer than you thought.
And… if you’re not wrong, he just inched nearer only a nanomoment ago. He repeats in a whisper, once more accusing, “You’re talking, that’s why.”
“That’s really why, huh?”
“Mhm.”
“The only reason there really is?”
“What else could there be?”
You smile, brazen, letting out the courage you’ve gathered, “Well, I know what else it is for me.”
“Yeah?”
Daring a step further, you graze his shirt featherlightly; you don’t know whether he notices. Not until he moves his hand, fingers ghosting near yours.
Waiting until you reveal with sheer, sudden heart palpitations, “I… I want you to kiss me. You do, too, don’t you?”
He inhales, but doesn’t exhale. What does it mean? You don’t know.
You don’t know what it is until you hear the smile in his words, gentle yet tantalising when he says, “…I do.”
“Good. Good. Then kiss me.”
And the rest proceeds without hesitation and without another plea.
His body moves as if on its own accord; he seems possessed, or controlled by a puppeteer. Warm lips lock with yours before you can draw another breath.
They feel soft, full, like tiny pillows, a contrast to the metal of his piercings. And they move gently, so carefully, like he’s still scared of crossing a line despite your permission. But when you lean into him, hoping for more proximity, he blossoms a little. Initiates more.
Oh, he, too, has been waiting for this, hasn't he?
A hand, nearly as warm as his kiss, slithers up to your face, holding you closer to him. The bangs that so often cover his forehead are tickling yours now, his head tilting to give his cute nose more space.
And with that, he deepens the kiss, too. Dares a step further, separating your lips with his, trying things out. He gauges your reaction as the tip of his tongue sneaks its way into the mix, and the moment you do the same, he dives in properly.
Kisses you just a little harder, tasting you, sighing into the movements as if all the weight of the world has dropped off his shoulders. As if he’s relieved, calmed down, resting for the first time tonight.
Yet, at the same time, he’s firing himself up — moving over your body slowly, holding onto your mouth to his best abilities, as if you’d disperse if he let go for too long. As if you’d change your mind.
He cages you in to keep you underneath, not touching your face anymore but shoving his fingers into your already tousled hair. If you were still in your right mind, you’d recognise how insane this situation is. Your younger self would’ve never predicted such a moment to ever become part of your life.
But it is… it is so clearly being played into your hard drive; somehow, you already know it’ll remain stuck in your memory: the way he’s kissing you, so thirsty, so insatiable. How he’s sighing, relaxed, yet sporting an audible heartbeat against your chest.
He uses moments of switching sides to breathe but continues right away; the keenness drives you crazy. You touch his shoulders and then wrap your arms around him firmly, making him hasten closer until he’s nearly falling onto you.
What in the heavenly make out sessions is this…
It’s nasty, yet sweet. Followed by quick breaths; it takes merely a minute until you feel his lower body grinding into you, his jeans tight around his crotch all of a sudden. And the second you realise he’s hardening beneath them, your body reacts.
Reacts so effectively.
Your lower tummy tickles, dampness pooling below as he pushes into you again, harder this time. You moan, enticed by your goosebumps and the heavy bulge. Solid enough for you to crave him within a moment’s notice.
And it only worsens threefold when he whispers, “Fuck… Somebody really knows how to kiss, huh?”
“You’re talking. What was this—” He so rudely interrupts with another peck, and you laugh into it. “Yeah, this…”
Your last word dissipates like candle smoke; you don’t even know why you bother to speak. Your voice is barely perceptible when his teeth remove the short sleeve of your dress, kissing your shoulder and then down to your cleavage.
It’s easy to remove your dress; it’s light, summer-y — but he doesn’t bare you just yet. Plays around at the mounds of your tits until he pushes the neck of the dress down a bit, asking, “May I take it off?”
Oh, if you could count the times you’ve imagined his veiny hands removing this damn dress just in the last fifteen minutes…
“Of course,” you permit, “do I look like I’d reject you?”
“Mmmh.” The hum is proud, satisfied, vocalised amidst another kiss to your clavicles. “Just making sure.”
Soft, warm hands trail up your leg, leaving a path of another set of goosebumps. You want him to stay right there on your thigh, knead the flesh, press into it, showcase the lust he feels in the beguiling pain.
But instead, he pushes up your dress, fingers ghosting over your ass — and when he doesn’t find your panties but only bare skin, he stops kissing you. Looks at you. Makes out the string of your thong a second later — in the dark, you discern the way his lips round in captivation.
He’s loving this.
He tugs at the string and lets it snap back into place; you gasp even though it doesn’t hurt, but it drives you mad when he states, “Wow. Very intriguing.”
Leaving it at this for just now, he kisses you again, tongues mingling once more before he releases a sharp, nearly aggressive hiss and mumbles, “Holy fuck. I can’t stop.”
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you guarantee.
“Good. Good, good, good.”
The dress surrounds your waist now, stopping below your breasts, and Jungkook journeys down to drag his lips around the spots he hasn’t touched yet. As if he’s trying to familiarise himself with all of you, working towards the goal of memorising you entirely.
His teeth scrape at your pelvis just lightly, seemingly contemplating whether he wants to destroy these panties or not — but then decides against it. You wouldn’t mind; you’re not showing anybody anything of you tonight but him.
And you’re already such a mess; breathing so irregularly, letting out his name and quiet sighs. He should know he could do basically anything. That you’re ready for him.
But instead, he only curses again, sucking at your skin harshly, nails digging into your hips. And then, from below, you hear him say, “Want you to suck my dick so bad.” He moves up, fingertips on your cheek, rubbing himself against your underwear, and questions, “Will you suck my dick, baby?”
Oh, he didn’t just…
Oh, the way the pet name screws with your head is irreversible. You feel sick at the mention, breathing out hard, about to get up at the speed of light to swallow him fully; to the hilt.
But you won’t give him the satisfaction yet; you’ve gotten used to the darkness, and seeing the hazy insanity in his eyes spurs you on to play with him a bit more. So you lift your body, giving him hope, but then say, “I have a better idea.”
“Ah? Where are you going?”
“Wait.”
He quietens. Falls to the side and onto his back as he watches whatever you’re trying to do unfold. You look back at him for just a blink of an eye, but you immediately perceive the hand cupping his clothed dick, moving a bit, up and down.
“Okay. Should work on this first,” you say, straddling him backwards.
You hike up your dress more, baring your back to him, and you instantly hear the breath he releases. Feel the palm touching your spine, grazing it; you imagine huge eyes ogling at you like he’s reached nirvana. You so hope he’s looking at you like this.
“My God…” he only mutters, however, proving your point when he opts to get up. But you turn as much as you can, a flat hand pushing him down again, to which he complains, “What?”
“I told you to wait, silly. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You sure? You’re being pretty mean right now.”
“I’m not being mean. You’re just not patient,” you laugh. “Give me a second and I’ll wreck your world, ‘kay?”
“Ah?”
“Mhm.”
“That I wanna se— oh. Oh.”
Exactly.
Once you’re done pulling off the dress, you shift back, enough for your pussy to align with his gorgeous face. Jungkook instinctively grabs your ass to pull you lower, and you chuckle at the restless gesture.
But you need to focus; and as best and tidily as you can, you unbutton his jeans, zipping them open until you detect his shorts. He raises his hips to help you, and you bite your lower lip, crazed by the sight that awaits you once the jeans are halfway down.
The bulge is big indeed. The imprint is insane; the light from outside allows glimpses, and you salivate, bowing your head to kiss him above his underwear, feeling him stir. And he imitates, blowing against your wetness, his finger — middle one? — curling around the string digging between your ass cheeks.
When he frees your pussy, you feel it. It hits the air in the room coldly, a contrast to his hot breath. A second more and you might drip into his tantalising mouth, just how you’re drooling over the cock you finally set free.
It springs out, veiny under your touch. Hard. Thick and long. Everything good, a fucking ideal package. You scold him, “You’ve been hiding this from me?”
“Huh? I wasn’t hiding.”
“Now I realise just how mean you are, man,” you say, shaking your head, spitting onto the slit before wiping it off again with the tip of your tongue. He swears again. “Could’ve had this make me hoarse so long ago.”
“Fuck,” he replicates, “stop talking, or I’ll fuck this mouth of yours. You want to be hoarse so bad, then try me.”
“Is this a threat? You really think I won’t let you? Stay right there, little—” You look again. “Big man. You can do whatever you want, but wait a second, alright?”
“Nah. You’re not the only one teasing. You brat,” Jungkook whispers sharply, delivering a smack to your ass; you gasp. “I just…”
You don’t know what he just — you only know that he’s attaching his mouth to your cunt right away, thong pushed aside, diving in with a tongue so eager. You squint your eyes shut, lips parting, calling his name as he holds you there roughly.
He soon wraps his arms around your hips, like a belt, lips intense as he kisses you even wetter. The sounds he eludes are dirty, sinful; and the feeling of his piercings doesn’t add to your sanity.
You decide to not let this distract you; he’s competitive, you realised, but you are, too. So you lean in, lips wrapping around the tip. Your right hand enfolds his cock, pumping him, tracing every firm vein that protrudes. He’s so pretty all around.
“Shit,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear; only continue to work your tongue around the head, setting the nerves alight as he’s doing for you.
You kiss down the shaft, licking and humming to create a sort of vibration. And then, you take him in as much as you can. Despite being large, barely fitting, soon hitting your throat, you try. Hollow your cheeks, bop your head, gifting him your attention.
But it’s hard. So hard because—
God, he’s lapping you up so good.
So hungry. Out to kill you as he releases the prior belt, bringing two fingers to your pussy and thrusting them into you slowly. Mouth and digits; both at once. Thumb against the clenching hole between your ass.
He’s distracted every now and then, much like you, but he still maintains a steady pace. Cruel… so cruel. Those damn fingers propelling into you, harder sometimes before they slow down again. Curling to hit you just right, massaging the rough, walnutty spot.
Oh, Jungkook knows… knows exactly what to do.
They don’t make men like him anymore.
Your ass clenches when his skills exceed your expectations and he rubs your insides particularly well, mouth just right above your clit as the tongue circles around it. It’s nearly overwhelming; you could cry with this mouthful of dick impaling your throat.
He feels so good on you. So good in you. You want all of you filled, not just your mouth. So you soon let go with a plop, a string of saliva so lewdly connecting your mouth and his member, and you wipe your mouth.
Tell him, “This should be enough.”
And he agrees immediately, smacking his lips, as if licking up the remnants of his food, “Fuck yes. Enough.”
You want to get into the next position, put in some work, but what you don’t expect is that Jungkook is already planning a step ahead. Tapping your ass with his big manly palm, pushing you off of him until you’re crawling on all fours.
Submitted to him. And you don’t mind a bit — just for now, just for him, you’ll give into this because you’ve been craving it. It’s okay; you vow to yourself that in a while, you’ll wreck his shit just as much.
On your elbows and knees, you hear him shifting, the mattress dipping, his knees nearing you and closing your legs in. The palm covering the right side of your ass causes it to jiggle, and when you push your butt towards his pelvis, he praises, “The way you know what to do without me needing to tell you. How convenient.”
“Well,” you breathe out, “it’s not my first rodeo. But do make it the best… okay?”
“No pressure at all, huh? I’ll try my best.”
You want to react, bring a laugh straight out of your throat, but Jungkook is faster. The reaction comes alright, but not as you wanted it to. But rather in a high-pitched moan, arms quivering when he fists his cock, guiding it to your leaking cunt, and rubs the tip between your pussy folds.
You reckon he’s testing out how eager you already are; you contemplate on telling him. On pleading, on saying something that might drive him to action. You don’t mention a single word, though; only let your ass speak once more, steering towards him until he gets the message.
He must have.
Because he clicks his tongue as if to admonish you for your shortage of patience, though only briefly before he surrenders to the itch you cause. Scratching without hesitation now, he finally helps you lose your damn panties and then dips himself into you slowly.
Of course; with a length like his, there’s no way you’d be able to survive a quick push. Jungkook knows to be cautious, penetrating you sweetly; an oxymoron in a moment like this. Your fingers digging into the sheets reveal as much; there’s not much going on yet, but you’re already holding onto the soundness of your mind so desperately.
“Shit, what the fuck,” you murmur, your turn to let out profanities; you’re sure this isn’t your last. “You scared of something, Jeon? I’m… I have an IUD.”
“Scared? No. You’re not an idiot, right?” he whispers. “You would’ve told me if you couldn’t do it like this. Much rather…” He breathes heavily between his words. “I’m taking you in, y’know? Enjoying — fuck — how wet and warm you are… Gonna wreck you raw, though, no p-problem.”
No, your foul words were certainly not the last for tonight; his dick is just halfway through when he stops and another tumbles out of you. He drags the thickness back, then inside again.
Your walls are occupied to their last inch, and you know you could take all of him if you just gave yourself some time — but somehow, his care turns you on even more.
Goddamn, he’s good. All of him — his dick, his voice, his mouth, his touch. He’s so— nnghh…
You have never witnessed his fingers do much more than take the pictures you love. Whenever he operates the button with his forefinger, flexing the inked crown above his knuckle, you already know the man has a talent unmatched.
But right now… right now you have an entirely different perception of these same digits.
Like, when he leans in a bit, still deep inside you, undoing your bra in a smooth motion. Or when he caresses your back, along your spine, contradicting the touch with a harsher, harder jab now.
And shit, when he pulls your ass cheeks apart, digging in further, fucking through your seeping hole until he’s covered in slick, too. It must look so good to him; incredibly memorable.
Your whimpers are quiet and gentle, matching the way he fucks you, only rising in volume when he decides to push another inch in. You behave; you whine softly; that is until all of a sudden, he pulls back most of his cock and shoots back in, colliding with your ass with a slapping sound.
Yelping, you hold the sheets until your fingers hurt, and he bolts forwards, a hand slamming your mouth shut and muffling your mewls. Way too close to your ear, he says, “Sh sh sh… my God. Jieun has neighbours, babe — don’t spoil her reputation.”
He proceeds to kiss the skin under your ear, taking your arms captive until they’re pinned to your back. Fingers intertwine messily, holding your limbs in place, and as he frees your mouth again, you laugh — it’s all you can do to not feel too weirded out by the mention of Jieun’s name right now.
You tell him, “Use my panties then.”
“Your panties, huh? Do you want me to?” You nod, but he’s not obliging enough to give into your wishes. Teasing you to no end. “Nah. I’ll just…”
Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence; what he does is much more alluring, nearly forcing tears of lust to your waterline. He grabs the back of your neck, urging you to look at him, and just as you register his face close to yours, he kisses you again.
Your body immediately blossoms. You breathe as much as the kiss allows, yielding to his tongue. Let him push you down and into the mattress, imprisoning you under him. And he kisses you… kisses you… kisses you more…
Basks in your dimmed moans as he hits from behind again, hard. Sheathes himself inside you thoroughly and with impact; he’s enjoying the fact that you want to yell, but need to restrain yourself at this time of the night.
Because he’s right. You don’t want Lee Jieun to earn looks in the morning because of you.
As if provoking you, he blatantly asks, “You good?”
“Yes— yes!”
“Mhm…”
He’s out of breath; can barely emit another word. But he doesn’t waste any moment at all; kisses your neck, bites your earlobe. Pushes his hands under your body to get ahold of your tits. Fucks you into space, lifting one of your hands to your face, entangling his fingers with yours.
You shift up and down the mattress, just a little; the position, with him on you, doesn’t allow too many extreme movements, and you’re more than fine with it. There’s something about him going unhinged on you like this.
But… it does awaken the need to retaliate, too.
So you use the opportunity when he decides to pause, running out of energy, gasping for breath. He leaves you empty and yearning, pulling back and sitting up, and judging from the touch on your tummy, you assume he wants to flip you on your spot.
Instead, however, you turn on your own accord, both palms that he held captive minutes ago shoving at him. He produces a strange sound as he falls backwards, landing on the mattress and onto the pillow with big eyes that almost don’t fit his Greek God-esque physique.
Goodness, the damp dark hair. The abs. The pecs. The nipples…
You might dribble onto his sweaty, shiny skin. And you don’t veil your innermost thoughts this time, straddling him as you say, “My turn. Need to ride you so bad.”
He visibly relaxes; leads his fingers to your hips, thumb drawing patterns on them. His tongue darts out to play with the lip rings, and he eyes you up and down. He’s taking you in for the first time properly, just as you are him.
Just as your eyes drifted over his muscular body, he now makes stops along the journey — your pussy on the length of his cock. The tits and the perked nipples. The ruined hair, sticking to your collarbones.
You wonder how he likes what he sees.
Probably enough if he can respond with something like, “I won’t stop you.”
Good to know.
So you take a comfortable seat on top of him, still keeping him down, lining up your sex with his. When you welcome him in again this time, you do so fully. No slow torture, no waiting. You claim your throne until your ass hits his hardened balls.
He says, not quite expecting an answer, so you don’t give one, “You’ll kill me today, right?”
And then you start. Put in all the effort you can gather. He feels heavenly inside you, the perfectly curved length moving just the way it needs to. His groans and calls of your names sound promising, telling; you suppose you’re doing a good enough job if his eyes roll back like this.
The hands on your hips push into your flesh more, and when you remove one and bring it to your mouth, sucking his forefinger with your eyes set on him, he loses his shit. Starts pumping up from below, meeting your up-and-down ministrations.
“Shi— what— do you think,” he attempts, stagnant breathing, “you’re doing…”
But he’s grunting in ardour, so you don’t stop; don’t let him take over fully just yet. No — you roll your hips, bend your back, catch a patch of his hair and then angle your body to crash your lips onto his.
The kiss weakens his defences. For a moment, you do feel his nails bruising your skin, but another second later, his touch is as soft as a feather. He’s so ultimately at your mercy that he lets you trace his abs and kiss his pecs.
Lets you get into a crouch, your palms settling below his chest for support. And then… then you navigate north and south, repeatedly, fucking him into you with vigour. He throws his head back, but then looks at you again, blinking fast before his eyes squint shut once more.
“The fuck are you—” he tries, but you start circling his cock again, moving in eight-curves, seeking support in his biceps.
“What?” you voice. “Not good?”
“You fucking— kidding me?” His lower lip trembles when he parts his mouth. You see it even with the lights dimmed. “This is such… a good fucking pussy. I was an idiot to push you aside.”
You’re too dazed to really pout, but you do hear the undertone; ask to clarify, “You’re just saying that f-for… getting my pussy, huh?”
“What— no. Fuck no. Look at me.” His hand reaches out, fingers poking into your cheeks, and he pulls you down to him, makes you meet his eyes. You slow down. “I wouldn’t just do this for any pussy— I… not with you. I don’t just. I don’t just go home with anybody. ‘Kay?”
His words bloom in your chest like a bouquet of flowers. In such a vulgar moment, you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but you can’t help but acknowledge the warmth spreading throughout your body. Burning up your already aflame muscles.
You want to know more; so you query sneakily, “What does this mean?”
“What it means?” he echoes, words blurry, as if drunk. “That you’re beautiful. And… honestly, kind of cool. So annoying but so fucking funny and— hot—”
“I am? Look at this,” you say, still moving but tired; touching his face, his cheeks, his sweet nose, “look at you…”
“No.” He grits his teeth. You don’t know what comes over him, but he’s inhaling way too deeply, lightly aggressive again as he retorts, “Look at fucking you.”
And with that, he gets what he desired earlier; flips you over, climbing over you. With your shield lowered, you didn’t expect this, and now you’re right where you began. And for some reason, the sharp jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, the starved look hits you even harder than before.
The many inches he sports fell out as he took over, but as he plunges into you again with embarrassing ease, something feels different. How he looks at you. How he touches you, pushing your hair back, kissing your lips with such softness.
And how he holds you when you finally see the stars you waited for, his face in your neck, his thumb on your cheek, his palm on your jaw. Kissing your shoulder, delighted as you seek an anchor in his back, tightening around him impossibly as he fucks you through your high and your broken moans.
“Jungkook—” you repeat over and over, and in return, he mutters constant, “I know, I know.”
Again and again and again until his sounds become more uncurbed. Only syllables, rumbling, his chest vibrating against yours until he lifts himself up and retracts his cock.
His pupils shake as he jerks himself off, and you know what he’s seeking, quickly getting to your knees, helping out. You replace his hand with yours, sticking out your tongue before you engulf his dick rapidly.
In surprise, he lets out, “Oh, fff—”
Shit, how he sounds. And how wicked he feels in your mouth, tasting like you, tasting like him. Wet and slippery, his balls hard when you cup them. And then— a mere moment later, he’s shooting ropes of white down your throat.
You’ll never get used to the feeling. You didn’t with your exes, didn’t with any other guy you’ve been with. It’s sudden, your gag reflex kicking, but you don’t want to stop until he has.
Sticky and hot, you let him; look up to him. His jaw glimmers due to the sheen of sweat, and he holds your hand to keep himself upright. Nearly growls when he’s done, and then calms down bit by bit. Pulls out of you. Plumps back onto his ass.
Catches his breath; and once the two of you have relieved your burning lungs, you with your legs under your butt, you look at each other again. A sudden laugh. He lets his head drop onto his shoulder, and then shakes it before getting back on his knees, nearing your joyous form.
The last kiss of the night is endlessly more chaste. No tongue, no making out. Just a couple pecks, a hand around the nape of your neck, noses grazing. Once, twice. And then, he’s smiling again.
You tell him, “Can’t believe this actually happened.”
“Crazy… right?”
“Crazy, yeah. We…” You gulp. “We can leave it right here, though. Guess we were both riled up.”
He nods, humming, looking to the side. “We could. But we don’t have to. It felt too good to forget, you know?”
You gleam and glow; if you could, you’d curl your fingers into fists, screeching like an excited high schooler in her room, acknowledged by a crush. But you only press your lips together, corners twitching up, cheeks hot.
Then, you say, “You know what… I might just agree.”
“Good.” Another one of his stares to the side, through the door of the room. “You think we should very quickly and very harmlessly use Jieun’s shower? She probably wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t think she would. But she’d certainly know what happened.”
“Least of our concerns,” he argues, getting up stark naked. He pats your thigh and then tugs at your arm, adding, “We’ll be tidy. And then we can rest a bit and leave. Am too fired up anyway.”
You know things might change again once you’ve slipped into your clothes and walked out into the night air. Perhaps the passion was reserved for this very room, actually a result of unbridled lust and tension.
But you think it’s okay. It’s okay as you giggle in the shower, flirting and bantering.
Because even if you part from Jeon Jungkook and all this as just a saccharine memory, you’re ready to seize just a little more of this stolen moment before reality sets back in.
5:12AM, Him
Whether it’s the numbers glowing on his digital watch or the fact that the two of you didn’t rest as much as you’d anticipated after all, he doesn’t know.
The residual heat of the past hour has warmed his body and relaxed his muscles; your touches still haunt him, crawling over his skin and sitting on his knees, tempting them to buckle. And your voice, your sounds… like a ghost in his mind.
And you urging him to climb the nearby hill with you, surprisingly steep, doesn’t help. He doesn’t know why you’d choose such a place at such an hour. The occasional forest around you is dark, chirping, and the road is empty.
Perhaps you feel secure in the presence of another; in this sense, it’s even flattering that you trust him this much.
But he’ll admit that his still wobbly condition and this stop of the night are slowly bringing him to his limits. The blazer, at least, is already hanging over his arm, giving him more space to breathe.
You’re piloting the way, careful, navigating with the help of the light beaming from the occasional street lamps. Jungkook sighs in a half-complaint when the road doesn’t end, nobody around far and wide.
You’re similarly out of breath when you turn to look over your shoulder, barely for a moment before you continue to escort him further up. Then, you encourage, “Come on! We just rested. How are you already tired?”
“Woman. We’ve been walking for a pretty long time.”
“Uhmmm,” you exclaim, swaying when you pull your hair over your left shoulder, “tell me something. What’s your sleep schedule usually like?”
Well, shit.
Jungkook can already tell what you’re referring to, but the counterargument already sits ready in his brain, just in case. Yet, he hesitates. Studies his surroundings to make sure he knows the way back, stalling on purpose, and when you ask, “And?”
He answers, “Uh. Late. I slept at 7AM just last week.”
“What?!” Your voice is high-pitched, in disbelief, and whatever point you wanted to make is stuck in your throat upon the revelation he divulged. “Holy shit, Jungkook.”
“Yeah, but like,” he immediately works on justifying, making use of the comeback he’d already thought out, “I don’t walk around town, you know? I spend these nights eating or singing or—”
“Woah. You sing?”
“Yes, but. I will not sing to you now.”
He catches up with you in one long step, regarding your countenance. Even in the dim light and the pitch dark, he recognises the roll of your eyes, as if to say, “I wasn’t even going to ask.”
But instead of vocalising that very overt thought, your answer comes as smoothly as silk, “It’s fine. You sang to me plenty tonight.”
Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, disguising his surprise as in the hike reasoned exhaustion. His mind needs a moment to fix itself, but when the balance is restored again, he wisecracks, “You’re one to talk. May I remind you of what you sounded like earlier?”
“You can. But I do remember myself, thank you.”
Damn it. You’re a step ahead all the time. He can’t even outsmart you the way he wants to.
“Way to diss me. You’re hardcore,” he complains, “and here I thought you were kind and sweet and all of that.”
Jungkook nearly retracts his statement, because you throw such a perplexed and disbelieving stare back that he shrinks, reprimanded, “Can’t I be both? A woman can certainly be both, man.”
“Of course,” he agrees, hands up as if he’s being arrested, “of course. You’re both, for sure.”
He anticipates more scolding and scowls, but it seems you’re satisfied with the response he gives. You grant him a pleased, lopsided smirk that resembles his own, and then sigh into the night air, long and deep before your breath morphs into—
A mixture of a gasp and a shriek.
“Wh—” Jungkook blurts, barely registering the movement scurrying from the left side of the forest into the trees right of him. “The fuck.”
And just as fast as your gasp appeared, it diminishes, too, turning into a throaty laugh. Jungkook listens in to the echo of the rustles, still seeing the bushes move; whether because of the animal that just flit past or the breeze, he can’t say.
His eyebrows shoot up when he looks at you, coming down from the quiet chuckle, and he only realises that your elated joy stems from the way he’s standing right now.
He must’ve instinctively dashed forward, an arm in front of your body, shielding it with his. It was just a squirrel, and in all honesty, it is the two of you who are trespassing, disturbing the forest life with your presence at such a time.
Yet, his reaction must’ve been immediate enough to protect you from whatever loomed in the dark, and you seem to like it for some reason. Because as he clears his throat and lets his arm sink, all you comment is a fascinated, content, “Wow.”
“Uh… all good.”
“Yes. All good indeed.”
Your voice is tinged with a combination of gratification and tease, as if you’re one utterance away from adding a little, “My knight in shining armour.”
Instead, you bite your tongue and look around; Jungkook sees what you perceive a mere moment later. The surroundings clear, the forest less dense; on the left side, a vast opening appears, a wide path ending in a… cliff?
And behind that, the town.
If there was a soundtrack to his life, he’d probably hear violins playing right now. Reminiscent of the wind, perhaps accompanied by piano keys that sound like the softly glimmering stars above.
The picture is breathtaking. Not that he hasn’t been at such a spot before — he grew up in a big, mountainous city.
But since he didn’t expect for the hill’s peak to allow such art, he’s a little more overwhelmed than he expected to be.
From behind, he hears you say, “In any case. Let’s rest here?”
“Uh-huh.”
It’s hard to avert his eyes. All night long, he’s only felt like this once; this marks the second time.
Gratefully, he walks up to where you’re making yourself comfortable, flattening your dress and settling your bag on your lap. You pull a thin, short cardigan out of it, slipping into it. It’s certainly cooler up here.
And then, you pat the spot next to you, and he lets himself fall with a sigh; it’s been a long night, and despite the restful-not-restful hour you spent at Jieun’s, it feels as though he’s truly easing up just now.
Jungkook puffs out a breath and takes another look. Properly this time, blinking as if this could help his eyes focus better. Gorgeous. He can see the river from here, flowing through the town in curves, like a snake.
He can’t see the entire city, but most of it; it goes up and down. Skyscrapers and then cosy houses like the ones before again. Mountains far away and the lights of the amusement park somewhere in the east. They’re the brightest of them all.
“Wait,” he says; you oblige, waiting, watching as he heaves the camera out of his bag.
He only registers you from his side vision, but he thinks you’re wearing a smile; confirmed when you breathe to speak again, and his eyes drift to you, immediately decoding the pride in your sparkling pupils.
Why do you look proud? Then again, he guesses he would, too, if he showed you something that he loved and you enjoyed it, too.
Thinking about it, he kind of wants to do it someday.
He pulls at his lower lip, releasing it soon, blinking again as if to release the thought. Instead, he listens as you ask, “You’ve never been here before?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Hidden spot then.”
“It’s beautiful. Look there,” he points to a spot that you carefully follow, even squinting an eye shut; it makes him smile. “That’s the ferris wheel in the amusement park. Can you see? Wait.”
The camera comes to use when he points the lens at the direction he signalled towards, nimble hands working on zooming in. The picture unfocuses before the lights of the amusement park flicker again.
It’s late, he thinks; then again, the summer is coming to an end, the last nights used to keep such attractions open late. September will bring forth grey clouds again, leaving behind the prior season’s heat. Raining down on him, forcing the leather jacket out of his closet.
He likes it that way.
No offence to the summer whatsoever; but he likes the fresh gust dishevelling his soft hair. Likes it when the rain patters against the window glass so softly. He sleeps better that way, too.
Barely sitting for a moment, Jungkook already gets to his feet, nearing the edge until he’s kneeling on the ground. The distance has only faded by a couple feet, not much of a difference. But the feeling of the city nearing still persists somehow, tickling his mind just right.
He doesn’t know how long he squats there against the backdrop of the luminescent sea, but when he comes back to you, you’re still sporting that excited smile, eyebrows high. Your eyes fall to the camera, humming when he says, “Look. There.”
He magnifies the picture, every spot of it good enough to pin against the living room wall. Carefully, he hands you the camera; surprising, because he regards this pricey piece of plastic as sacred. You probably don’t know how big of a deal it is that he lets you handle it.
If you did, you’d never let him live it down.
You scoot closer, your temple now nearly touching his. You stare with an interest he hasn’t witnessed too often before. People do not care much about pictures of scenery; in the age of media, how could they anyway? When every stock picture is already memorised and used to the point of insignificance?
But you — your mouth parts as you switch around, taking in details.
“Good?” he asks.
“Beautiful,” you sincerely mutter, returning the camera to him. You hold it like a kitten; perhaps you do know what the gesture meant. “This is exactly why I wanted us to come here.”
The moment is so serene, like balm, and he nods along with your words, calmly conversing. So it takes a heartbeat to truly untangle your words in his mind and tie them with the meaning your intention conveys.
He assumed you were just showing him random spots of the town, to allow him a glimpse into your mind and to crack your true nature. All this time, he thought you wanted to lead him to bright spaces to lighten up his perception of you.
But what you’re doing instead is turn the spotlight towards him and what he loves.
“You… did it for me?” he asks.
You, casually, as if the thoughtful act doesn’t flood him with serotonin, reply, “Yeah. To capture a couple pretty pictures. You really do love it, so.”
“I do… wow, thanks.” He pauses. Looks down to the buttons on his camera, to his hands; then back to you. “You thought of it all, right? The nice places and the short rest at Jieun’s. Now this.”
“Hmm, tried as much as possible so spontaneously.”
“Thank you. Really.”
You return his gratitude with a polite nod, leaning away until you touch the backrest of the bench. Jungkook indulges in some more that nature offers, toying with the settings, zooming in just to observe sights from a closer point.
He doesn’t notice when you sigh or when you zone off; or when your thoughts shift back to the minutes and hours of the night. He doesn’t notice; and in return, you don’t know that he’s still thinking about the intention that brought him here; that you were attentive enough to truly show that some people appreciate art.
There aren’t only fleeting nights and then forgotten memories. Because this… this right here is a core memory.
Because of you.
Are you thinking the same? Are you proud that his enmity has faded, replaced by a tender smile? Satisfied that your efforts were worth it after all — a goal reached that you set for yourself earlier tonight.
Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again.
But…
He’d love to talk to you again.
However, your mind hasn’t quite drifted in this direction; in truth, he honestly can’t analyse or interpret you at all, because the question you pose next is far from what he’d been thinking about.
“Talking about pretty… uhm. Did you think Jieun was pretty?”
Jungkook blinks. One eyebrow cocks up; the camera drops back onto his lap. He flashes you a squinted look, a confused laugh erupting before he asks back, “What?”
“Ah, don’t lie. She’s very pretty.”
“Sure? She is.”
He’s nearly forgotten what she looked like. But beauty is still perceived and remembered — he guesses he found her good-looking.
“And she’s everyone’s type,” you prod, “what do you think, though? If she didn’t have a boyfriend, could you imagine liking her?”
Jungkook thinks about it. Not because he wants to, but because you seem to have found an odd interest in whatever attracts him; maybe your questions are leading up to something. So he’ll play along.
“Hmm… Maybe,” he answers.
“So she is your type.”
Or maybe, you’re trying to get something out of him that you want to hear specifically. You seem so shy about it all of a sudden; not necessarily an adjective he’d assign to you.
And coming from you of all people, he somehow does not find the topic interesting. It’s weird; he doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t care about Jieun, either.
So he shrugs his shoulders indifferently, lifting his camera up again. He points it at you, eternalising your surprised expression just when you open your mouth to leave out a shocked, “Hey!”
“That’s what you get for asking such strange stuff.”
“It’s not strange! I’m just small-talking.”
“You do not small-talk.”
“It could be a deeper conversation if you just admitted it.”
He chuckles, turning his body towards you, half his leg on the bench, “Admit what?”
“The type thing!”
“Sure. I don’t just have one type, though, you know?”
The dispute brought your bodies a little closer, your face far enough for him to still identify his surroundings, but near enough for him to see your eyes twinkling. The light is dancing in them. And it’s much easier to focus on it when you silence like this.
Just for a second.
Because you breathe in again ten seconds later, lightly slapping the thigh resting on the bench. The touch is cursory, tiny, nothing to overthink about — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to linger.
In some way, it still does.
You ask, “Okay? What are your types then?”
“Different girls.” This time, only one shoulder shoots up. His eyes match his pensive hum. “Whoever suits me. Pretty girls but also nice girls. Especially nice girls.”
“Alright, be honest,” you begin, mimicking his position until your leg lifts onto the bench, knee nearly touching his. You’re warming up now. Finally spitting the true question soon, “Do you think I’m pretty?”
Cute.
But he’s not giving in this easily.
He smirks; he feels the dimple on one side of his lopsided smile the moment you look at it. You’re distracted enough — so he uses the mental absence to attack you with yet another picture.
For a couple blinks, you’re startled — but as he reacts to his own nonsense with a content chortle, proud of his prank, you sigh. His shoulders rise with his sneering joy, head low as he inspects the picture just taken on his camera.
He zooms into your face, mouth open and eyes wide. You do look so pretty, he thinks — better even since you washed most of your make up off. Yet, he can’t contain himself when he shows you the screen, telling you, “You look alright.”
You laugh, rolling your eyes and your gaze to the view; your giggles start quietly, and then mix with his. Before—
They soon become part of a bad harmony as more voices join your very own night. Somebody is nearing. Jungkook hears the laughter already, but the road is curved and dark; so he can’t see them yet.
You might not have expected this, because you push closer to Jungkook on reflex; just at the same time as him. He didn’t know he had it in him to always stay so alert around you. Ready to throw himself at intruders.
Crazy.
But once the voices grow in volume, the two of you are soon met with a couple walking past. They’re in love, because amidst their titter, there’s another lewd sound. Or maybe, not too bad; playful kisses?
Yes.
The guy — he’s smooching his girl’s cheek, releasing with a, “Mwah” each time. Your initial surprise soon fades and turns into delight; Jungkook sees it in the way your smile returns. And in the furrowed yet amused eyebrows…
When the couple spots the two of you, they gasp; the girl’s hand immediately bolts to her chest, as if she just encountered a wild boar. But she catches herself soon, apologising, “Oh. Sorry. We’re sorry.”
You respond with an, “It’s okay!” Jungkook shakes his head politely to shrink their worries. They’ve walked away as soon as they came, but he still hears the woman’s scolding, effect lessened by the still occurring belly laugh, “I told you to calm yourself—”
As the world quietens again, Jungkook huffs, tilting his head as he deduces, “So late and yet… Not much of a hidden spot after all.”
“It feels like an ancient hill to me. I don’t often meet others here.” You breathe in the wind, then tongue your cheek. “They probably didn’t even notice where they were going. People in love never do.”
“I guess so.”
He guesses so.
It’s been a while since he fell in love.
Your head bobs once more before you lose yourself in the skyline, sucking in more of the crisp air that’ll grace you in the upcoming months. Fall is upon the town. He inbreathes the peace, too.
His hands operate on their own; one last time, he lifts it towards you, peeks through the lens again, adjusting the focus until the object clicks again. You’re not looking at him; he caught your side profile, this time not out of mock or tease.
He means it. And you seem to know.
Because when you look at him this time, you’re not mad or irritated.
Only look at him softly, a smile that truly matches the heights you took him on.
READ BELOW!!
the fic isn't over yet – as always, tumblr has a 1k block limit that makes our lives harder than necessary lmao. read the last scene and the remaining 3k words of meraki here 🥰
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baby, show me what it's like
pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader (afab)
summary: you were honestly thinking about quitting your job as a secretary at a police station, but then a new hire made you change your mind.
word count: 11k
warnings: 18+, smut, subby!leon, rookie!leon, virgin!leon, oral (m!receiving), dirty talk, semi public sex, flirting, teasing, talks of masturbation
a/n: he's such a good boy <333 part 2?
song from need to know by doja cat
You stared down at the piles of documents in front of you. Part of being a secretary at a police station was doing all of the paperwork that the officers didn’t want to do. It was exhausting, just staring at a million tiny words, scrubbing through legal terms that you had to teach yourself what they meant, and signing initials and names that weren’t even yours on dotted lines. If you wanted to keep the job, though, you had to put up with it. They paid well and honestly you couldn’t be bothered to search for another job. Plus, it came with perks and benefits.
It would’ve been an added bonus that you got to stare at men in their uniforms all day, but most of their personalities were so awful that you couldn’t even find them attractive anymore. They were only nice to you when they conveniently forgot that you had already told them you wouldn’t let them hit. They were gross and mean and tiring to be around. Honestly, only a few months ago, you were just about to give up and call it quits.
But then they hired someone new.
Rookie Leon Kennedy, fresh out of the police academy. He was the talk of the station for a week before he even arrived. Apparently he was the top of his class, strong, always hit the targets in the practice range, aced every exam, and blew the physical portion out of the waters. He was a diamond in the rough, an ace, good at everything he did and worked extremely hard to get better at whatever it was that he wasn’t already good at.
To you he sounded like he was going to be just another asshole, so whenever you heard anyone talking about him, you just rolled your eyes. That included hearing some of the other secretaries squealing about how “handsome and attractive that new rookie is.”
How wrong you turned out to be.
You were sitting at the front desk of the station one Monday morning. You were vaguely aware that it was Leon’s first day, but you were swamped with paperwork, so you honestly didn’t think too much about it. That is, until you looked up when you heard the front door open and laid eyes on the cutest boy you had ever seen. Your mouth fell open slightly and you had to physically clench your jaw to make sure that it didn’t drop onto the floor.
He had dirty blonde hair that was cropped around his ears, his bangs teetering on the edge of falling over his face. His brows were slightly furrowed, but his expression wasn’t mean on account of his chubby cheeks and soft jawline making him look so squishy. His eyes were full of childlike wonder as he walked into the station, looking around and checking out the area. He was tall, his body wide, his strength evident even through the uniform that he wore. His arms were danling at his sides, his fingers bending up and down, his thumb attempting to crack knuckles that didn’t need to be cracked. You watched his chest heave as he breathed through his mouth, his Adam’s apple bouncing as he swallowed.
You really thought you were going to pass out. You felt your heart threaten to jump out of your chest in the most cartoonish way possible. You were positive that anyone who was around could see it beating through your ribcage, its fast beat pulsating your entire body. Butterflies built up in your tummy, shooting down between your legs as you watched him scan the area. When his eyes landed on you and he gave you a big, bright smile, you were sure that you were actually going to pass out right then and there.
If your pupils could have transformed, they would’ve been in the shape of hearts as you watched him walk towards you. When he was almost upon you, you finally regained your composure and cleared your throat, looking down at the stack of papers. You grabbed them, tapping them against the desk in an attempt to pretend that you were straightening them out so that it looked like you were doing something other than ogling at this man. Your head was spinning as he finally reached you, your mind full of thoughts of all the things you wanted to do to him.
“Hi!” he said, straightening up, raising his hand and giving a small wave before glancing down and then dropping his hand. “I’m Leon Kennedy.” He looked into your eyes, his lips twitching slightly as he did. A small crop of blush covered the apples of his cheeks and he dropped his eyes, looking down at the wooden desk and clearing his throat.
“I’m, uh, new here,” he said, his voice getting more quiet and slightly breathier. As he spoke, he poked his tongue against his top teeth causing him to have a small lisp. You were immediately filled with an overwhelming urge to reach over the desk and pinch his cute cheeks. You felt like you were looking at a little puppy. You leaned forward, your lips curling up into a smirk as you tried your best to listen to what he was saying.
“I was just hired, so, uh, I don’t really know what to do or anything…” He cleared his throat, his eyes blinking rapidly as he swallowed. “I’m kind of nervous,” he said, raising his hand to rub the back of his neck and huffing out a breathy chuckle. He looked up at you again, giving you a sheepish smile.
If you were being honest, though, you weren’t really listening to him. You were tracing the cage of his throat with your eyes, noting the mole that laid beside his Adam’s apple as well as the others that were scattered around his face and neck. You were memorizing every mark on his face, every small acne that dotted his jaw and cheek. You were studying how his biceps fulled up his sleeves completely, thinking about how his big hands would fit perfectly on the curves of your waist. You were raising your pen to your mouth and letting your gaze travel down further, staring at how his thighs were squeezing around the fabric of his pants. You were chewing on the tip of the pen as you allowed your eyes to travel to the center of his body, picturing what he could be hiding behind the buckle of his belt.
You did happen to hear him say that he was nervous, and that piqued your interest. You looked up, looking at his face that had gotten a lot more red. He was rubbing his palms against the sides of his pants, clearing his throat every few seconds. As you kept your eyes on his, you saw his lips part and then he moved his hands, clasping them in front of himself. You let out a small giggle, leaning forward even more, pushing your chest together with your arms as you leaned onto the desk. It was clear that he was flustered, and that only made the horny part inside your brain ramp up even more.
“Don’t be nervous!” you said, looking at him up and down. He shifted his weight between his feet. “We’re all really nice here.” You lowered your voice, trying to make it sound as seductive as possible.
Leon’s mouth fell open and you heard a small sound come out from his throat.
“Of course!” he exclaimed, raising his hands out in front of him. “I-I didn’t mean it like that!” He cleared his throat and looked away, his eyes glancing down at your chest for a split second before widening slightly and shifting to the floor. “I-I’m sure you’re all very nice…” He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck, his cute face full of a look of slight embarrassment. You smiled wider at him. “I-I just meant… Well, I mean, I’m just a nervous person, I guess.” He let out another nervous laugh, and snuck a glance up at you.
“Mhm,” you hummed, looking him up and down once again before leaning back in your chair. “Anything I can do to help you calm down, Mr. Kennedy?” You looked up at him with faux innocence.
Leon stared at you for a second, his lips parting slightly. Thenn, he regained his composure and cleared his throat, shaking his head and chuckling at himself.
“No, probably not,” he confessed, his voice breathy. He had a cute, boyish smile on his face, once that was full of actual innocence. You wanted to ride him until he cried.
“I’ll calm down eventually,” he continued, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You shook your head lightly, trying to reign yourself in. Leon was adorable, but you had to try and calm down. It wasn’t like you could just jump over the desk and ravish him- as much as you wanted to.
“It was, uh…” Leon began, choking up on his sentence and swallowing. He turned even more red. “It was really kind of you to offer to help. And for being so nice. Um…”
He had been looking into your eyes and you started licking your lips as you paid attention to him. The blush creeped down his face, covering his jaw and neck. He let out a small noise, which sounded almost like a whimper, as his body shifted. He cleared his throat once again and shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing at himself. He looked extremely flustered. You loved it. You smiled even bigger at him, watching as he swayed his arms back and forth, trying to hide the fact that he was covering the front of his pants.
“If, um…” Leon said, trying to keep the conversation going even through his flusteredness. You admired his determination to keep talking, but you also figured he was just blabbering because he was so nervous. Either way, you couldn’t stop thinking about making him continue to speak even as you were touching his dick. Hell, you even wanted to get under a desk in the office that you knew he was going to get and blow him as he tried his best to keep a conversation going with the chief.
“If everyone here is like you,” Leon continued, his voice breathy, obviously trying to push his words out of his mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your heart was in your throat, your tongue not staying still in your mouth as you licked your lips, pulling the bottom one between your teeth. “If everyone here is like you, then I think it’ll be a good job.”
You looked up at his face, watching his breathing speed up and his eyes refuse to stay still. He was looking every except at you, but you could see him sneaking glances your way to see your reaction about what he had just said. His attempt at flirting… wasn’t very good. Rookie Leon Kennedy was awkward and nervous and shy. But something about him was so charming. His awkwardness was making your heart swell. His naivety and innocence was making your head spin. You wanted to get in his pants so bad, explore his body, make him feel better than he had ever felt before. You wanted to hear his shy moans and watch his hands twitch as he tried to keep himself composed, but ultimately failing. You wanted to tear him apart.
“Mr. Kennedy,” you said, looking into his eyes and giving him a cheeky smile, “there’s no one else here like me.” You gave him a playful smile, tilting your head as you looked up at him to make your point clear. “You’ll figure that out soon enough.”
Leon’s head nodded absentmindedly, his mouth open as he stared at you. He listened intently, reacting to all of your words. You already knew he would be such a good boy.
“I believe you,” he said shyly, his voice low. He looked down, a small smile on his face. You had never seen anyone so red before.
There was a beat of silence as you stared at Leon, watching his obvious nervousness. You raised the pen to your mouth again, chewing idly as you stared at him, undressing him with your eyes. After a few seconds, he flanked up, looking at you with big eyes through his lashes. His lips were pink and wet, and you felt the knots in your stomach tightening as you thought about how good he must be at giving head. You found yourself swaying, practically fucking him with your eyes. His body moved too, shifting, his face twitching and his nostrils flaring. There was something in the air, tension that he definitely didn’t know what to do with. You let it sit, enjoying the sight of him being so flustered.
Then, far too soon, it was broken.
“Kennedy!” a gruff voice said, pulling both of you out of whatever trance you were in.
You turned your head, watching as the chief walked up to the desk and clapped Leon on the shoulder. He jumped slightly, clearing his throat and turning around. His face was shocked and nervous, obviously worried that the chief would catch him doing… whatever it was he was just doing. You were sure he didn’t even know, his mind racing about all the possibilities of what could’ve just happened. He was so cute.
“Y-yes, sir?” Leon said, ever so polite.
The chief’s eyes shifted to yours, and a look spread across his face that you couldn’t quite place. You ignored him, though, only giving him a nod and a small smile as you sat back in your seat, turning your head back down to the paperwork in front of you.
He cleared his throat and shifted his eyes back to Leon. “Come with me, young man, I’ll show you around.”
“Yes, sire,” Leon said again, nodding like an obedient puppy.
His focus was now completely on the chief, intent on impressing him and doing his job well. As he listened to whatever stupid story that the chief was beginning to tell as they started walking away, Leon snuck as glanced at you. He gave you a small, shy smile and a nod of his head, and you returned the favor. You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers at him, waving flirtatiously. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open, turning his head away from you nervously. You giggled out, not taking your eyes off of him.
You watched him walk away beside the chief. As he went, his hands didn’t leave the front of his pants. But clasping his hands in front of him didn’t stop his boner from being visible from the side. You saw the tent pitched in his pants, the fabric poking against his first in front of him. His bulge was… big, to say the least. It was obvious that he wasn’t even half hard; he was rocking a complete erection. He was obviously really sensitive. You hadn’t even touched him, had barely even flirted with him, and he was already squeezing his eyes shut to get his dick to go down. You could practically feel your mouth watering as you looked at it, your imagination going wild thinking about how big he had to be.
When he had walked through a door and disappeared further into the building you finally looked away. You sighed, staring down at the paperwork in front of you. You let out a small laugh as you looked at it. Maybe I’ll stick around here a little longer, you thought, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to suppress a smile.
After that, you started enjoying your job significantly more. All of the paperwork and the annoying men were worth it because you got to see Leon everyday. You spoke to him any chance you could get, which honestly wasn’t a lot. He was busy going on patrol and sitting in on meetings and helping with small cases and whatever else rookie cops got up to. You caught him sometimes when he was coming into and leaving the station. Every time you would give him a big smile and a wave. He would always blush bright red and give you a shaky smile as he cleared his throat and looked away. More than once did you catch his breathing getting heavier.
Still, though, at first you did try to keep a safe distance from him. You didn’t want to push any boundaries and make him actually uncomfortable, so you managed to control yourself enough to not pounce on him anytime you saw him. However, once you caught him staring at you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, you decided that you could amp it up a little bit.
You started making sure that you could run into him any chance that you could get. Instead of just giving him a smile, you spoke to him, keeping your voice light and breathy. You stood close to him, placing your hands on his arm, admiring how small they were compared to him. You leaned in close, pressing your body against his as you looked up at him through your lashes. You licked your lips as he talked, watching the apples of his cheeks turn red and his lips blush pink. You listened to the way his voice got breathy and watched as he squeezed his eyes shut and took deep breaths and got so flustered just from some heavy flirting.
Admittedly, it was probably torture for the poor guy. You were really going hard with the flirting- calling him strong, telling him he’s so good at his job, complimenting him on everything, rubbing your hands on his biceps, tapping against your lips, fucking him with your eyes, and anything else that you could think of that would drive him crazy because you thought he looked so good when he was all flustered. You would drop things on the ground just so that you would have to bend down and pick them up in front of him. You even made it a point to get a bag of lollipops and suck on them, circling your tongue on the candy anytime he was around, making eye contact with him while still pretending to be as innocent as possible.
It was obvious that he liked it. You could hear the way he got all nervous and you could see the way his hands got clammy and you noticed every time his eyes scanned your body, looking at every sensitive part of you. You saw the way he stared at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You even noticed the slight palming of his dick he did when he was sitting behind his desk as you spoke to the chief in front of his office. You saw the way his eyebrows furrowed and he stared in anger as you spoke to any of the other officers. You saw his hands clench into fists and his face turn red as stared intently at whoever you were talking to until you glanced up at him. His face softened when he made eye contact, and he looked desperate for your attention, but he was still trying to be respectful. It was all so cute. Everything he did was so cute.
It all built up over the next few months, and every time you thought about Leon you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together behind the front desk. You touched yourself to the thought of him, thinking about his rough hands grabbing your waist and his thick fingers thrusting in and out of you. You got off just by thinking about how pretty he would look lying flat on his back, his cock stiff and standing at attention, whimpering and squirming as you licked up and down his shaft, not letting him cum until you said so. God, you wanted him so fucking bad.
A few months after Leon started working at the station, you had to stay late to finish up some paperwork that an officer shoved off onto you. It was a lot because the case was big, and even though he didn’t really do anything, he was getting all the credit for it, which meant lots of documents. Which, of course, meant that you had to be the one to do it. And, to make matters worse, he waited until the last possible moment to try and get it finished, so it all had to be written out and signed by the next day, which meant that you had to stay late.
You didn’t want to take work home with you, so you got caught up in trying to get it finished before leaving. You didn’t even realize it was so late until you finally signed on the last dotted line and dropped your pen. You stretched in your chair, looking around at the empty station. Most of the lights had been turned off, so you sat in the dim lighting. Honestly, it was almost scary. You grabbed your phone and looked at the time- 11:38 pm. Jesus Christ, you thought. This took longer than expected.
Your eyes were heavy as you pushed yourself back in your seat, grabbing at your things to gather them up. You were completely focused on packing up that you were only vaguely aware of the footsteps that you heard from behind you. You figured it was just the nighttime janitor or security guard walking around, but then you heard a voice that made all the stress of the day wash away from you completely.
“Oh, you’re finished?” you heard from behind you.
You immediately knew that it was Leon’s voice. You could pinpoint his even tone and deep range out of any lineup. You had spent the last few months memorizing the sound of it. You felt your heartbeat pound against your chest and excitement fill up your head. You turned around, unable to stop the smile from spreading across your face as you faced him.
He was standing in front of the desk awkwardly, shifting on his feet and fumbling with his own hands. He was looking at you, his eyes not staying in one spot, moving around as he avoided looking into your eyes. His eyelids were heavy and his hair was slightly flat. He looked tired, and honestly all you wanted to do was wrap him up in your arms and make him cum so hard so he could fall asleep. You wanted to play with his hair and rub his back and kiss his shoulders. You wanted to hide him under your blanket and keep him in your bed away from the world.
You blinked, trying to pull yourself back to reality.
“Yeah,” you said, giving Leon a friendly smile and sighing, gesturing towards the paperwork. “Just got done with all of this. It was a pain.” You let out a laugh and looked back up at him. You tilted your head and raised an eyebrow, looking at him quizzically. “What are you still doing here?” you asked.
“O-oh,” Leon said, nervously. “Well, just, you know, the same as you. Getting some work finished.” You could see a few beads of sweat lining his forehead. He raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck.
Your mouth twitched as you stared at him, your smile threatening to turn into something that wasn’t just friendly.
“Well, isn’t it convenient that we got finished at the same time!” you exclaimed, teasing him about the fact that you knew he wasn’t telling the truth. You knew as much as the next guy that there wasn’t anything Leon could’ve been doing that would make him have to stay this late. You made a mental note to pry the true reasoning out of him later, but for now, you had something else on your mind.
“Y-yeah,” Leon breathed out, letting out a huffy laugh.
You let your eyes drift down his body. He had already gained some muscle weight since being there. He always wanted to stay on top of everything, working out and keeping his body exercised. If he was strong before, he was surely a brute now. It was so cute, though, because his body was so fit and toned, but his actions made him seem almost like a little kid. You wanted to just eat him up. Something inside you broke, and you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. It had been a long day. What better way to destress than to fool around with the most adorable boy in the world?
“Hey, Leon,” you said, your voice peaking slightly.
He perked up, looking up at you like a puppy whose owner had just called his name. You had to hold yourself back from jumping over the desk.
“I was gonna go get a coffee from the break room before I left- you know, to keep myself awake,” you continued. Leon stared at you wide eyes as he listened intently. “Do you wanna join me?”
Leon swallowed and let out a choked noise. He honestly looked like he was about to throw up, but he nodded rapidly and choked out, “Y-yes! I wanna come.” Then, his eyes widened in horror as he raised his hands and clarified. “I mean, I wanna go with you! To the break room. I wanna go.”
You let out an adoring laugh and looked down, feeling your face blush from his words and actions. You nodded and then made your way around the desk, leaving your things lying on top of it. You stood beside Leon, his body language awkward, unsure of how to navigate the situation that he was in. You smiled at him. He was so endearing. You reached out and wrapped your hands around one of his arms, leaning against him. His body tensed up and you heard him hold his breath. You giggled up at him, and then began walking, pulling him along by his arm.
You dragged Leon away from the front desk and down the hallway towards the first floor break room. You made casual conversation as you walked, asking him how his day was and smiling up at him as he stuttered out all that he got up to. He started rambling about his day, getting really into his words. You hung onto his arm as he waved his hand around, using them as he explained. He was really endearing, and you couldn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in your tummy- and this time you felt like they might mean a little more than just wanting to get in the boy’s pants.
When you reached the door of the break room, you turned around and slid your hands down Leon’s arm, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the room with a smile. You watched him suck in a breath of air before you let go of his hand and turned around, heading to the coffee machine. As you reached the counter, though, you felt Leon’s presence behind you. He grabbed you, his fingers softly wrapping around your wrist.
“I can do it!” he exclaimed, probably a little louder than what he meant. You turned around and looked up at him, a smirk tugging on your lips as you saw his face. His eyes were furrowed and his lips were pressed tight in determination. It was so cute how much he wanted to do this for you- something as small as making coffee.
God, you wanted to choke on his dick so badly.
You gave him a nod, not taking your eyes off of him as you said, “Thank you. You’re so sweet, Leon.”
He looked down shyly, the corners of his mouth twitching. You saw him shuffle, kicking his feet lightly.
“It’s no big deal,” he mumbled shyly.
You looked at him in adoration, and then turned around. You sat down at the table, staring at Leon as he turned around and began messing with the coffee machine. You watched as his back flexed in his button down, the fabric stretching as he moved his arms. His shoulders bounced up and down. You were completely mesmerized. He had the most perfect body you had ever seen. Before you could stop yourself- not that you even wanted to- your mouth was moving.
“You’re so strong, Leon,” you said, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. “All the other rookies they’ve hired have been like shrimp.” You let out a small laugh.
You heard Leon let out a shuddered breath. He finished with the machine and then turned around. He looked at you, giving you a sheepish smile. He shrugged his shoulders, clearly embarrassed by the compliment. He looked down at the floor, only glancing up at you through his lashes.
“I’m not really all that strong…” he said, a smile tugging on his lips. “I, uh, I mean I work out and stuff, but,” he let out a genuine laugh, his face lighting up slightly. He looked up at you, giving you a boyish grin. “I also like to eat,” he said, playfully.
“I think you look good,” you said, matter-of-factly. You pushed yourself up and stepped over towards Leon. You kept some distance, but only a bit. You glanced down at his lips, licking yours as you did.
“R-really?” Leon asked, clearly surprised.
“Mhm,” you hummed, swaying closer to him, but letting your chests touch. You reached your hands out gently and slid them down his arms, giving his biceps a squeeze. “You’ve got really nice arms.” You looked up into his wide and nervous eyes, giving him a cheeky smile. “They’re so big.”
Leon let out a choked noise and a small whimper. You watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed. You smiled at him, happy with where this was going and the fact that he wasn’t pulling away. You took the opportunity to lean closer, pressing your bodies together. You could feel his already half hard cock against you, and it took your breath away. The bulge was already big and firm as it pressed against your thigh, and you had to physically stop yourself from grinding against it. Instead, you looked up at his flushed face and gave him a reassuring smile.
“Do you have anything else that’s big, Leon?” you asked, your voice teasing.
Leon swallowed a lump in his throat and immediately started sputtering. “Uh… Um… I- uh…”
He looked around, clearly trying to avoid eye contact. He was so nervous and flustered, so inexperienced and innocent. It was so cute watching him devolve into such a mess so fast. You wanted to ruin him even more.
“Well, I, uh…” He cleared his throat, but it sounded more like he was just trying not to choke. “My, uh, m-my… My dick!” he finally said, looking at you with an attempt of confidence.
You almost choked as he made his exclamation. You looked up at his face, seeing his obvious shyness that he was trying to force himself not to feel. You let out a laugh and pushed yourself away, looking at him up and down with a raised eyebrow.
“You know, I really thought you were gonna say your heart,” you commented.
“That too!” Leon proclaimed, shifting against the counter. He was barely leaning against it anymore, instead standing on his legs, slouching slightly so that he wouldn’t be as tall as he really was. You noticed he did that a lot.
I’m gonna have to do a lot of work to get this boy’s confidence up, you thought, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
You pulled back slightly, placing your hand over his heart, feeling the fast beating pound against your palm. He stared at you, his eyes wide and his mouth hung open. You slid your hand down his torso, feeling his tummy suck in as you glided your fingertips across it. You kept eye contact as you reached his pants, tugging on his belt.
“Can I see?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
Leon nodded his head immediately, but then he looked away, his eyes shifting down to his feet.
“I-I wanna show you, but I…” He took a deep breath, furrowing his brows, looking upset at himself. “I’m nervous,” he said, quietly.
“Leon,” you cooed his name, tilting your head and looking at him with a face full of sympathy. “You don’t have to be nervous.” You didn’t move your hand from his belt, keeping your fingers shoved slightly behind it, feeling his tummy bump against your knuckles as he breathed hard.
“I just… I don’t have much, uh, e-experience,” Leon stuttered, his mind moving faster than his mouth could keep up with. “So, I-I don’t really k-know what to- um- what to do…” He glanced up at you in anticipation, nervous for your response.
Your heart swelled as you heard him. You really thought you were going to pass out. You knew that Leon was a little shy, but you didn’t think he’d have “not a lot of experience.” You just assumed he was one of those guys that got a lot of pussy because of how awkward he was. You knew it was working on you and he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t believe that you were going to get to be the one to give him more experience, get to be the one to make him feel good, get to be the one to get him addicted to getting his dick touched. Your head was swimming, but you tried to stay focused.
“Don’t worry about it,” you said gently, giving Leon a soft smile. “You don’t have to do anything except sit back and feel good.”
He stared at you, his eyes shifting down to your lips as he licked his own. He took a deep breath and then asked, “Can- can I kiss you?”
Your smile grew bigger when you saw the anticipation and excitement in his eyes. You moved your hands from his belt and raised them, grabbing his face. You felt his soft skin on your palms as you squished his cheeks together. His breathing got heavier as you leaned up on your tiptoes, pulling his head down to meet yours. You pressed your lips together gently, giving him a soft closed mouth kiss. You leaned back down, flat on your feet, and looked up at him with a small smile.
“Whoa,” he said, his eyes wide, lost in the small kiss that you had just shared. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you…”
“Why didn’t you?” you asked, a little pouty.
Leon scoffed, but he looked at you with a grin on his face. “Because I’m a gentleman.”
“Does a gentleman pop a boner every time he sees me?” you teased.
Leon’s mouth fell open in surprise and he instinctively covered his hands over the center of his pants. It was obviously too late, though. You already knew he was hard and you were getting almost desperate to pull it out of his underwear.
“You noticed that?” he asked, his voice raising an octave in embarrassment.
“It’s kind of hard not to,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip as you let your eyes trail down his body to the bulge in his pants.
“I-I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, shifting against the counter.
You shook your head reassuringly, reaching up and placing a hand on his cheek. He leaned into it, nuzzling slightly as he looked at you shyly.
“I think it’s cute,” you said. “You’d always get so worked up and all I would do was flirt with you a little.” You eyed him, looking at him up and down, staring at the bulge once again. You lowered your hand from his face and slipped your fingers behind his belt, wiggling them against his lower tummy.
“I bet you’re really sensitive, yeah?” you said breathily, leaning towards him, ghosting your lips together. You looked down at his pink wet lips, your eyelashes fluttering against his skin. “Can I find out?”
Leon swallowed and nodded, his eyes wide as he stared at you, seemingly in a daze.
“P-please,” he pleaded, his voice bordering on a whimper.
You gave him a big smile and then leaned up, placing another kiss on his lip. This one you made sure to heat up, opening your mouth slightly so that you could run your tongue along his lower lip. He whined as you did, and you took that opportunity to push your tongue inside his mouth. You felt his hands move as he let out a gasp. He grabbed your waist, digging his fingers into your skin. He kissed you back, pushing his tongue against mine, trying his best to assert some kind of dominance. You wrestled your tongues together for a few more moments, but when you felt his cock twitch against your tummy, you pulled away.
You gave him a mischievous smile, looking at his flushed face and his swollen lips. His eyes were big, his pupils blown out. He was breathing hard out of his open mouth, staring at you in admiration. You raised your eyebrows at him as you lowered yourself down, getting on your knees in front of him. You heard him let out a choked sound, and he squeezed his eyes shut, looking away from you. He let out a small whine and accidentally bucked his hips. You smiled more, raising your hands to grab his hips, holding him still.
“S-sorry,” he said. “You j-just…” He looked down at you, his mouth hanging open as he continued to breathe hard. “Fuck, you look so good. Oh, my God.” He closed his eyes and looked away again, his chest heaving. “Oh, my fucking God.”
You let out a giggle as you moved your hands back to the center of his pants, beginning to unbuckle his belt.
“I didn’t peg you as someone who swears so much,” you teased.
Leon shook his head, still keeping his eyes squeezed shut. You watched him bite his lip as he tried to suppress his whines.
“Not usually,” he said, unable to make proper sentences. “Sometimes. Right now.” He opened his eyes and sighed. “You look really… pretty.”
“Imagine my view,” you said, pulling open his belt and messing with the button. He sucked his tummy in. “A pretty boy all blushy up above me? So nervous he doesn’t know what to do?” You undid the button and zipped down the zipper, pushing the flaps of his pants back before looking up at him to sell home your next point. “It’s like I just won the lottery.”
Leon let out a whimper and shook his head, reaching his hands behind him and grabbing the counter.
“Can’t say that stuff to me,” he said, his voice breathy. “Too nice.”
“You’re such a good boy, Leon,” you said. “I gotta be nice to you.”
You turned back to the center of his body. You pushed the flaps to the side more and shoved his pants down slightly around his hips. He sucked in a breath of air as his hard dick sprung forward against his underwear. You smiled, watching as it twitched against the fabric. You leaned forward, pressing your lips against where his tip would be, shoving your tongue against the wet spot that he had made.
“Holy shit,” he breathed out, his hands gripping the counter even tighter. His fingers twitched and his chest heaved.
You continued to press your tongue against the wet spot on his underwear, licking at his clothed tip as you held onto his hips to stop him from bucking them. You moved one hand and gripped the base of his dick, wrapping your fingers around it as much as you could over his underwear. You moved it slowly, sliding the fabric along the sensitive skin, no doubt sending friction spreading throughout his entire body. Leon moaned and whimpered above you, trying his best to keep himself quiet and still.
After a few minutes, you pulled back, sliding your hands up and slipping your fingers into the waistband of his underwear. You shoved them down slightly, exposing the top part of his shaft as well as the crop of pubic hair. He sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, his fingers twitching. You looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, watching his big reactions. A question popped into your mind and you had to ask.
“Leon?” you said gently, getting his attention. He looked down at you, his eyes big and watery. He looked scared, like he might’ve done something wrong. “How much experience do you have?” you asked.
A look of embarrassment immediately washed over his face. The blush that had just begun to disappear suddenly appeared even brighter.
“N-not much,” he said, repeating what he had said earlier.
You gave him a big, teasing smile. “Are you a virgin?” you asked.
Leon let out a whimper, squirming. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and looked down at you, nodding his head.
“Have you ever done anything?” you asked, feeling your heart beat fast against your chest. Getting to touch him in a way no else had, being the first person to touch his dick, running your tongue and hands all over the unexplored part of his body…? It made your head spin.
Leon shook his head again, clearly embarrassed. He looked disappointed in himself.
“J-just a couple of makeouts… It never went any further.” He looked at you, ashamed of himself. He tried to crack a smile, but you could tell he felt bad. “I guess I wasn’t any good.”
“You’re so fucking adorable,” you said, your voice sincere.
His eyes widened and his head shot down to look at you. He looked surprised that you had complimented him and genuinely meant it.
“I’m gonna make you feel real good, okay, baby?” you said, your voice seductive.
Leon nodded, his mouth opening and closing before he finally spoke, his voice small. “Th-thank you.”
“Well aren’t you just so polite?” you said, glancing up at him before turning your attention back to his underwear.
You shoved them down even more, pushing them down enough for his dick to spring forward. Your suspicions were right. Leon was big. It was long and thick with veins running down all around his shaft. The tip was bright red and leaking. His blush reached the base, ghosting lightly along his skin. He had the prettiest dick you had ever seen. The fact that he was just walking around with this having no idea what to do with it… Christ, your mouth was practically watering.
You slid one hand across his pubic area, looking up at him to watch his reaction. He was trying hard to keep his breath steady. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open, silent moans threatening to come out. You smiled at him, wrapping your fingers around the base of his dick and lifting it up. You pressed it against his tummy, watching the precum stick to his skin. You leaned forward and stuck your tongue out, pressing the flat part against one of his balls.
Leon immediately let out a moan, low and breathy.
“Fuck,” he whined through gritted teeth, his hands still clenching the countertop.
You smiled, pushing your tongue against him even harder. You moved your head, pressing your face against his face where it met his balls. You licked up, running your tongue along his balls, pulling one into your mouth and sucking lightly before letting it out with a pop. As you licked at him, you felt the textured skin on your tongue, slight bumps from where he had just shaved. You couldn’t help but smile, finding it cute that even though he wasn’t getting any he still made it a point to keep himself groomed.
Not that you would care if he wasn’t, to be completely honest.
“F-feels so good,” Leon breathed. You glanced up at him, continue to lick his balls and the bottom of his dick. You moved your hand lazily, pressing the heel against his dick to grind into it. “Feels like I’m in f-fucking heaven.”
You let out a breathy laugh, ghosting your breath along his sensitive skin. You pulled back, looking up at him as you began moving your hand a little more, beginning to properly jerk him off.
“Imagine when I pop your cherry and let you put it in me,” you commented.
Leon let out a gasp, gripping the counter tighter. His eyes opened and he looked down at you, his eyes wide.
“You… You’ll let me?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
You eyed him. “Baby, I’ll let you do anything you want.”
“Fuck,” he whimpered, squirming. “What if I’m not any good? N-never done it before…” He let his voice trail off, looking away, embarrassed.
You chuckled. “Guess we’ll just have to keep doing it until you get good at it, yeah?”
Leon whined, bucking his hips into your hand.
“Gonna get you addicted, baby,” you said, lowering your head back down to his dick. You stuck your tongue out, lapping at the sensitive skin. You fisted his tip, twisting your wrist so that you could circle it. You felt the precum on your hand. You looked up at him through your lashes, your pupils blown out. You only had one thing on your mind- make Leon cum until he saw stars.
“Gonna make it so the only thing you can think about is my mouth on your cock,” you continued. “You like that?”
Leon whined, nodding his head rapidly. His fingers twitched at his side.
“Already think about you all the time,” he confessed, his face blushing.
“Really?” you asked, pulling back to look up at him with a raised eyebrow.
He looked down at you, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. You moved your hand around his tip to keep him satisfied. He sighed a happy sigh, his lips curling upwards in a small smile. He nodded, clearly lost in his own world but still trying to keep up the conversation.
“Did you… touch yourself to me?” you asked, a slight mocking tone in your voice.
Leon nodded again, his face blushing even brighter.
“Yes,” he whispered. “A… A lot. After my first day, I…” He gulped, taking a deep breath so he could keep himself composed. “When I got to my car I couldn’t wait. I jerked off in the parking lot and I accidentally moaned your name.” He shifted, shame written on his face. “I felt bad, but…” He opened his eyes to look down at you. His pupils were huge, almost completely overtaking his pretty blue irises. “But you’re just so pretty, I can’t help it.” He sighed, a small smile on his face.
“Dirty boy,” you teased, leaning down once again to place little licks on his balls. You moved your hand more, rubbing your palm up and down more inches of his cock.
“Only for you,” he breathed, his voice high pitched and whiny now. “Never anyone else.
“Mhm,” you hummed against his shaft.
“Wouldn’t let anyone else do this to me in the break room of my job,” Leon said, and then you watched as the situation seemingly fully hit him for the first time. His face fell and he looked worried. He looked down at you, slightly frantic. “Sh-should we stop? I mean, what if someone comes in…?”
“No one’s here,” you mumbled, now completely focused on licking and sucking near the bottom of his shaft. “Don’t worry, baby. Just let yourself feel good.”
Your words seemed to ease Leon, because he relaxed back against the counter. You looked up at him, seeing his perfectly content face. He looked like he was on cloud nine, in complete bliss. You had never seen someone so satisfied before and you hadn’t even wrapped your lips around his dick and taken him in your throat yet. Your head started spinning as you thought about how he was going to react to that.
After a few more minutes, you finally moved away from his sensitive and overstimulated balls. You dragged the flat part of your tongue up the thick vein that lined the bottom of his cock. When you reached the top, you circled your tongue around his tip, lapping up the precum that was leaking out. It was salty and honestly didn’t taste very good, but you didn’t care. You snuck a glance up at him, hearing his whimpers and whines, clearly still trying to keep himself quiet.
You slid your hand down his shaft, the side bumping into his balls as you finally wrapped your lips around the tip. He sighed, thrusting his hips forward slightly, accidentally pushing a few more inches in your mouth. You gagged, not expecting the sudden intrusion, but Leon didn’t seem to notice. He had raised his hand, shoving his palm over his mouth. His other hand was at his tummy, grabbing at his shirt to hold it up over his abs, the fabric balled in his fist.
You raised your hand and grabbed his hips to hold him still as best you could. Despite you clearly having the upper hand, Leon was still a big man who was a lot stronger than you. When he felt your fingers on his hips, though, he melted into your touch.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, pushing his hips back and looking down at you.
You pulled off of him, going back to licking his tip. You had spit pooling on your lips from choking a moment before, so you let it dribble onto his dick. You slid your hand up to his tip and gathered the spit on the side of your palm so you could rub his shaft easier. As you did, you leaned back down and sucked his wet tip into your mouth.
“I’ll-I’ll try not to cum too fast,” Leon breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. He looked like he was going to cry.
You hummed around his tip, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“I- uh,” Leon swallowed, trying hard to keep himself composed. “I’ll try to tell you when I do.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re supposed to do that, right?”
You pulled off of him again, leaning back on your heels as you continued to jerk him off lazily.
“It’s the nice thing to do, yes,” you confirmed, feeling a strange sense of pride at having to answer his question about getting a blowjob.
Leon nodded obediently. “Okay,” he said, swallowing. He looked down, watching your hand move on his cock. His eyes shifted up, and he looked into yours. “I’m nice, yeah?”
You gave him a big smile and leaned forward, placing a kiss on the underside of his head.”
“You’re really nice,” you said, looking up at him, ghosting your lips against his sensitive skin. “You’re such a good boy, Leon.”
He sucked in a breath and then let out a small whimper. His hips bucked slightly and you gave him a sly smile.
“I’m… I’m your good boy, right?”
“Fuck,” you whispered, feeling the wetness pooling in your underwear. You were so turned on, so horny that it was insane. You were willing to do anything to keep giving Leon head.
“Yeah, baby,” you said, your voice growing a touch more husky and raspy. You leaned back down, placing open mouthed kisses against his shaft. “You’re my good boy.”
“Do anything you say,” Leon whined. He kept his one hand grabbing onto his shirt, but he ran the other through his hair. “I promise, b-baby.”
“I know, Leon,” you said, a small laugh leaving your lips.
You looked up, taking in the sight of him. He was a wreck above you. His hair was messy and his face was red. His eyebrows were pulled down and his lips were parted, breathy whimpers coming out.
“God, look at you,” you cooed, your voice low as you continued to kiss the side of his dick. “Standing there so pretty, letting me touch your dick however I want.”
“Feels good,” Leon said, his voice a whisper.
“I’d say,” you mocked, dragging out the syllable. You dragged your lips up his shaft until you reached his tip. “Make sure you let me know how good this feels, okay, baby?”
Leon started to nod, his eyes heavy as he looked down at you, but he was quickly cut off by the feeling of you taking him inside your mouth. His body spasmed, his hips jerking, but you were prepared for his big reactions that time. You relaxed your throat, letting him buck his hips once before catching himself. His hands shot away from the counter and landed on your head. He didn’t push it, though. Instead, he rested his palm against the sides of your head. As you pulled back and lowered your head again, you felt his fingers twiddle against your ears and play with your hair. You smiled as much as you could. Even when he was in such a vulnerable position, even when he was getting his dick sucked for the first time, he was still there to make sure that you stayed grounded.
You steadily took more of him, breathing through your nose. Leon’s scent was always strong, but being this close to him in such a precarious position made it intoxicating. Your head was spinning, your vision going blurry as inch after inch slid down your throat. Leon kept his hands on your head, his thighs and hips twitching as he tried to keep himself composed enough not to thrust in your mouth and fuck your throat as hard as he wanted. He really was big, but you were determined to take as much as you could.
You felt him slide down your throat, your walls clenching around him, squeezing his dick as you bounced your head on it. He moaned above you, his mind completely engulfed in the blowjob. He had stopped worrying about being quiet, the way your throat was tight around his dick enough to make him let loose the whiniest whimpers you had ever heard. He sounded so pretty and so desperate. It was like music to your ears.
The sounds Leon was making only encouraged you to go down further. You pulled back, kissing and licking his tip as you took a deep breath. Then, you grabbed his hips and lowered your head down, pushing his dick deeper down your throat. You felt the tip hit the back and you gagged, which only made him sputter, his entire body spasming. You thought for a moment that he was about to cum, so you looked up at him, only to see that he was already looking down at you.
“Th-the whole thing?” he asked, his voice small. He looked like he was in a daze. You felt his dick twitch inside your throat. “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.” He tipped his head back, his tummy heaving as he breathed hard. You pulled back, licking underneath the head of his dick. You looked up at him as you did, watching as he went in and out of consciousness, looking at you with heavy lids.
“Never ever thought I’d get your mouth around me,” Leon began, his voice high and breathy. He shook his head, raising one hand from your head to run his fingers through his hair. “Nuh uh, never ever ever.”
You continued to slobber all over his dick, pushing your tongue against his shaft, licking anywhere that you could. You held onto his hips, pushing your thumbs into the skin underneath his hip bones.
“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice gravelly. He sunk against the counter, his hand sliding down his body. He reached out, looking down at you with blown out pupils. He placed his hand on your cheek, pressing his fingers underneath your jaw.
You rewarded him by wrapping your lips around his raging red tip once again, and any romantic moment he was feeling was washed away immediately. His face twisted into the beautiful pleasured face he had before and his fingers clenched, grabbing your ear.
“Never thought I’d ever even get a chance with you,” he said. You looked up at him, watching him talk as his eyes stayed squeezed shut. You bobbed your head up and down sloppily. “Thought you were too good for me. Thought I’d just have to be happy working at the same place as you.”
You let your eyes stare up at him. You pulled off, sliding his dick out of your throat and going back to licking at it as you listened to what he was saying. His face was turning red and his voice was getting breathier as he continued to babble.
“Thought I’d just have to be happy jerking off to you,” he confessed.
You hummed against his tip, placing a kiss against the slit and then pulling back, giving him a mischievous smile.
“Can you tell me about it, baby?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.
He looked down at you, shame and worry on his face, but his dick twitched against your lips.
“Wh-when I was in my car, that first day, I-...” He swallowed hard as you went back to suckling on his cock. Your ears burned red as you listened to him. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
You moved one hand down and grabbed his cock, pushing it up so you could lick a long stripe underneath up to his tip. Leon breathed hard.
“I- fuck!- I was so hard,” he grunted. Clearly he was finding it harder to get his words out by that point. “I felt like I was gonna pass out. I just… I just had to touch it. It was twitching in my pants and leaking so much…” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and sucked hard, making his lips swollen.
You circled your tongue around his for only a moment before lowering your head down, taking him in your throat. You grabbed his hips again, keeping him steady. It wasn’t working very well anymore, though. Leon was clearly close to his orgasm because his hips wouldn’t stay still and he wouldn’t stop talking.
“I came so fast and I thought about you the whole time,” he moaned out. “I thought about you riding me and grabbing my shoulders and digging your nails into my skin.”
Leon bucked his hips harder as you took more inches in your mouth. You flexed your throat, clenching around him as he stretched out your walls. His voice sped up and he sounded more and more desperate as the seconds passed.
“Want you to mark me. Wanna have scratch marks and hickeys all over me.” Leon’s mind was moving fast, his mouth barely able to keep up. “Wanna let you do everything to me. Want you to… fuck, fuck, fuck. Want you to ruin me- holy shit!”
Leon’s hands grabbed onto your hair, tugging hard as he bucked his hips. You held onto his hipbones, letting him fuck your mouth to his obvious near completion.
“I’m gonna cum-! Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”
It was only a few seconds later that Leon’s sudden fast movements were frozen, his cock buried deep inside your mouth.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted as he came down your throat, spilling thick strings out.
His fingers loosened and his hands dropped to his sides as you continued to suck him off, milking all of his cum out. When there was nothing left, you pulled off, looking up at his hazy eyes as you swallowed down his orgasm. When it was down, you sat back on your heels and looked up at him, giving him a big smile.
He looked like he was going to pass out. He gave you a shaky smile and then tipped his head back, breathing hard at the ceiling. You laughed, giving his thigh a pat as you pushed yourself up. Leon stayed leaning against the counter as you stood in front of him. You stared at him, watching as his eyes stayed closed and he kept a smile on his face. He swayed lightly, in his own little world full of bliss and post nut pleasure. He was practically glowing.
You laughed again, shaking your head at him playfully. You reached your hands out and grabbed his dick. He only smiled bigger, letting you put his dick away and fix his pants. By the time you had gotten the belt back on, he seemed to be stable enough to keep his eyes open. He stared at you, watching your eyes move with a goofy smile on his face, his front teeth showing. You looked up at him, but had to quickly look away. He was making your heart flutter in a much more fluffy way than before.
“What?” you asked, blush creeping across your cheeks.
Leon shook his head, but his smile didn’t leave. “Nothing,” he replied, still eyeing you.
“Why are you staring?” you squeaked, reaching out and giving him a slight push.
Leon shrugged, looking away shyly. “You’re just pretty.”
“Hey!” you said, reaching out and poking his chest. “You didn’t stutter.” You gave him a playful smile.
Leon’s cheeks blushed and his smile got shy. He closed his eyes gently and let out a breath of air through his nose, his lips curling upwards slightly. He looked breathtaking. As you stared at him, thought, you saw his eyes open and a worried expression crossed his face. He turned his head and looked at you, almost frantic.
“W-wait!” he exclaimed, reaching his hands out and ghosting his fingers on your arms. He pulled you slightly closer to him. “I can do you! I mean, I’ve never done it before, so I probably won’t be any good, but-”
“Leon,” you said with a laugh, cutting him off. You patted his cheek, shaking your head reassuringly. “I wanna save you doing me for next time.” You gave him a sly smile, flickering your eyes at him up and down.
“N-next time?” he asked, his voice small.
You nodded, stepping forward. “Mhm,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pressed your bodies together, feeling his hands take place on your hips. They fit perfectly, as if that’s where they belonged.
“I still have to let you put it in, remember?” you teased.
His eyes widened and his hands rubbed around your lower back.
“Y-” he began, but was cut off by a choke. He cleared his throat and continued. He looked around, lowering his head closer to you and whispering, his eyes wide. “You were serious?” he asked, his slight lisp shining through in his surprise and amazement.
“Of course,” you chuckled. “You think I’d just leave you hanging like that? Besides, I gotta teach you how to make me feel good.”
“I wanna learn!” Leon exclaimed, nodding his head rapidly, trying to show you that he really meant it. “I’ll try my best for you! I-I wanna make you feel as good as you just made me feel…” He looked away, clearly shy from his own words.
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. All you wanted to do was lean up and kiss him, so that’s exactly what you did. He froze for a second, but then you felt his body melt against yours and he kissed you back. You sighed into the kiss. This one felt… different. It felt more passionate and gentle. It felt like it meant something more than just two tongues wrestling together when someone was trying to get off. The butterflies went crazy in your tummy.
You pulled back, looking up at him with a genuine and soft smile. He looked down at you, happiness in his eyes.
There was a moment of silence as Leon’s eyes flickered around your face, studying you. Then, he sputtered out quickly, “Will you go on a date with me?”
Your shock was probably written on your face, but you were just so surprised that he actually wanted to go on a date with you. You knew that Leon was shy and awkward, but he was still a guy, so you just thought… You just thought that all he really wanted was to get laid. He wanted to go on a date? Like… an actual one?
“You want to go on a date with me?” you asked, your voice raising an octave.
Leon nodded. “I wanna take you out. I want to… uh… treat you.” He looked away, his voice lowering. “I like you…”
You felt your face turning red and you couldn’t look at him anymore. You looked at the floor, feeling shy. Your heart was beating fast against your chest and your hands were suddenly sweaty.
You nodded shyly. “I’ll go on a date with you. I… I like you, too.”
“Holy shit,” he breathed out, sounding relieved. He couldn’t wipe a smile off of his face. His fingers flexed against your waist. He looked down at you, his face giddy. “Tomorrow? I-I’ll take you to dinner.”
You nodded almost immediately. “Tomorrow sounds good. What time do you get off work?”
“6:30.”
You nodded absentmindedly, thinking about the options. “Okay,” you said finally. “I get off at 5. Do you wanna… meet me at my place when you get off?”
“Sure!” he agreed. “And we can go out to eat.”
“Yeah!” You gave him a smile. “Then when you drop me back off at my house, you can come inside.”
He nodded, looking shy. “Sounds good.” He lowered his voice, then quietly added, “I’m excited.”
“I can’t wait,” you said, giving him a smile.
After that, you told Leon that you two better head out before the security guard caught you and you got into trouble. He agreed, and you both began walking back towards the front office. You grabbed your things, but Leon quickly took them out of your hands.
“I can get it for you.” He gave you a playful smile. “I’m strong, remember?” Now he was the one doing the teasing.
You let out a small laugh and shook your head.
Leon walked you out, staying by your side the entire time. As you walked, your knuckles bumped against each other, and you couldn’t help from grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together. You felt his sweaty palms against yours. Your heart swelled, threatening to burst out of your chest. He put your back in the back of your car and then opened the driver door for you. You rolled your window down so you could say goodbye. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and grabbed his shirt. You pulled him down, placing a kiss on his lips before letting him go. He raised back up, his face bright red and sweaty.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Leon,” you said, putting your car in drive.
“See you tomorrow,” he said, giving you a small wave.
The rest of the night you couldn’t stop thinking about rookie Leon Kennedy. You couldn’t stop thinking about his big dick, about the way he sounded when you were blowing him, about how he played with your hair while he was getting his cock sucked, about how sweet he was, about how shy and nervous he acted. It got to be a real problem when you realized you actually couldn’t get him off your mind.
Do I have a crush on him? you pondered as you thought about the date, but also about what you were going to do afterwards…
You couldn’t wait.
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