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.
âł pairing: Jungkook x reader
âł rating: 18+
âł genre: e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader; fluff, smut
âł 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
âł word count:Â 26.6k <3
âł a/n: you guys built this fic!! đ„ș 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 đ i hope y'all enjoy it!! come and talk to me when you're done mwah <3
TAGLISTÂ | MASTERLIST | WIPs
1:04AM, Her
Thereâs 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, youâve 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 â youâre not the only person to live by it. Doesnât mean youâre not allowed to wallow in it.
Because thereâs a fire behind your hard-working chest, lit up, pride residing next to it. Itâs 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; havenât yet found a person to share your knowledge with. Which is okay; in the meantime, youâll 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, itâs 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 isnât 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 daysâ worth.
1:04AM, Him
Sometimes, people donât want to be photographed.
Jungkook learned that early on when he agreed to be a photographer at events. Heâs encouraged and urged to ask people to pose; thatâs 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.Â
Itâs only when theyâre dancing or drinking that they open up. Thatâs when theyâre okay with listening to him, obedient, almost as if heâs authority, staring into the lens with flushed cheeks and wide grins.
Though itâs irritating when every other person walks up to him afterwards, inquiring when theyâd 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. Youâre here, too, somewhere; of course you are â 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. Doesnât need or want any more than that. Youâre too loud, too energetic anyway; heâs rather among himself, not in any photo, indulging in the job.
He loves clicking through his camera roll; itâs 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, youâre not the only one, right? So many people here are the same amount of enthusiastic, party people to the core.Â
Which is why heâs 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; heâs the last face you see when you step out of the somewhat stuffy hall.
Or so you think.
You donât 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.
Itâs 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 youâre not entirely sure.
But youâll 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 somebodyâs throat. Itâs 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.
Itâs a man, clutching a heavy object with careful hands. A camera, you know it immediately. Heâs hunting through the pictures he took, face slightly lit by the screen. Jutting lower lip, slowly blinking eyes.
Simple attire â 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 itâs him youâre seeing; but when he smacks his lips in the dark of the night, nibbling at the shiny lip rings, you know youâre right. This is a habit youâve 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 isnât on board with your hospitality. He rolls his eyes; you donât take it to heart, though. Youâre used to this.
As he starts stuffing the camera back into his bag, you waddle over, crossing the street. Upon reaching him, you ask, âGot some good pictures tonight?â
âIâd guess so.â
His voice is as nonchalant as always, his shoulders relaxed, uncaring. To your vampire-novel-reading middle school self, he wouldâve 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 heâs 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 thatâs 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, âCan I see?â
âUhmâŠâ He hesitates, lifting the strap of the camera bag higher up his shoulder. âDo you have to?â
âIf I may. I brought you here, remember?â
Of course. Itâs always you; youâre the one to organise this, and youâve 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 heâs good. You trust him in this regard.
âYou say that every time,â 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, âOkay, itâs fine. Donât show me the pictures, but come on. Be a bit nice at least.
âAlright. What else? Do you need something?â
You sigh in defeat. âNo. I was just going home.â
âYou should go home. Itâs pretty late.â
âArenât you going, too?â
âI am,â he responds, his voice going up at the end. âI just wanted a bit of peace before leaving.â
âPeace,â you repeat, as if trying out the word. âYou canât get it at home?â
Jungkook doesnât 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, âAre you following me?â
âHuh? Did you forget that I was literally heading this way?â Heâs distracted, looking for the street signs, and you laugh at his own confusion. âDo you even know where youâre going?â
âI guess so.â
Okay, at least heâs 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, âYou taking the bus?â
âNope. Subway.â
âAh. That should be this way, then,â you nod towards the direction youâre approaching, âI know the bus is, because thatâs where I need to go.â
ââŠAre you sure?â
âYep.â
Thatâs it. He doesnât respond much; only lets out the millionth sigh, following you with something you might nearly call trust. He doesnât 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, âHow did you like the party?â
âUhhh, it was okay.â For the first time in minutes, he looks at you. âThe people were weird, donât you think? But I got some good shots in.â
âHmm⊠okay. I didnât notice anything weird about the people.â You shrug your shoulders. âTalking about shots⊠did you drink a little?â
He whines your name as the question is a tale as old as time, complaining, âEvery single time? Why is this so important to youâŠâ He waits, shakes his head. âNo, I didnât. Seems you did, though.â
âA little,â you say, bringing your forefinger and thumb together, indicating a tiny space. âBut Iâm all sober and well.â Another brief pause. âAre you okay, too?â
He licks his lower lip, dimples appearing that donât ever need a smile to emerge. Then, he throws back, âWhy shouldnât I be?â
âDunno. You always look so bored at parties. And you always go home alone.â
You donât know if the following laugh is sarcastic or not, but you soon discover the very answer when he lifts a finger and counts, âFirst off, how would you know?â Another finger added to the mix. âSecondly, Iâm not bored. Iâm just focused. And I donât know anybody there.â
His hand drops again, working on his bagâs strap again. Pushing it over his shoulder. He adds, âItâs a bit different for me than for you because theyâre literally your clients and you know them at least a little.â
âI mean⊠you know me.â
âYeah, but youâreâŠâ He regards you from head to toe, not the softest of expressions, and you pout. You donât ever take him seriously, but he can be hurtful sometimes. âI just donât think weâd be good conversation partners.â
âWeird,â you challenge, âbecause youâre conversing with me right now, no problem. Itâs also not my fault you always argue with me at every event.â
âI donât. You approach me.â
âYou do.â You lean your face closer to his, not making it very far when his palm pushes your cheek, and you, away from him. âUgh. Okay. Seriously, though â why do you always leave alone?â
He exhales in defeat. Seems that Jeon Jungkook is too tired to take your idiocy tonight. You understand, but youâre just trying to figure out how to convince him that youâre normal, too. That he just dislikes you because youâre different from him, and nothing else.
âHeyâŠâ he utters, out of energy.
âI mean it,â you still declare, âthere are so many sweet and nice girls around. They ask about you sometimes, you know? Iâve also met many men on such paââ
âThatâs great,â he interrupts, a palm stopping you from spilling more info, âbut⊠I donât think Iâm interested.â
âOh.â 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, âOh, wait. Do you⊠play for the other team?â
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, âNo, Iâm not gay. And even if I was, itâd be none of your business.â
Shit.
Okay, you were sure about your assumption, but now that it turned out wrong, this sounds pretty shitty. And annoying. And awkward.
âSorry,â you apologise, and he gives you a taunting head tilt. âOkay⊠different topic then? Tell me, what do you think of this dress?â You lift the hem a little, smiling; you were convinced the moment you first saw it. âDo you think I look pretty today?â
For a second, he joins; his initial gaze is still cynical, but his voice is appealing, a whisper when he leans in and asks, âWhy? Do you want to be the one I go home with?â
Ah⊠why do the words, the way he speaks them, tickle you just right? Youâre 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 donât get to it when he inquires a moment later again, âAre you sure weâre going the right way?â
Right⊠you need to go home. You forgot.
âUh⊠yeah.â You look around, finally detecting a sign, picturing a bus and a number. âThereâs the bus, so the subway should beâŠâ You stop; hum; then see two women waiting at the bus stop. âShould we ask someone?â
âSure.â
With a nod, you separate from him, walking towards the bus station bench theyâre sitting on, hands folded, conversing quietly. Theyâre 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, youâre thanking them and leaving again.
Jungkook stands there in anticipation, waiting for you to deliver good news â yet confused when you return with slumped shoulders instead of an enthusiastic, âWe were right! Come!â
Okay, there arenât 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, âSo⊠the subway isnât here.â Big eyes meet yours. âIâm not sure where it is, and they,â your thumb points to the girls behind you, âcouldnât help because theyâre tourists.â
âAh. Great,â he says, delivering a falsely cheerful smile. Hands thrown into the air. âSo weâre stranded and should definitely not be here. What about the bus? Where does it go?â
âUhmâŠâ You scratch your head. âNot where I need to go. Itâs a different one. But!â Immediately, your voice rises, trying to approach this with hope. Itâs not the end of the world, after all! âDonât worry! Weâll get home either way.â
âJust a lot later than necessary.â
âBut nothingâs lost yet. Donât you trust me?â
And â much as you thought â 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.
âItâs not that big of a deal, I promise!â you vow, but you reckon it only makes matters worse.
Because he breathes air through his nose, like a bull, arguing, âIâm tired, though. This is wasting so much of my time. You always do.â
You stop in your tracks. He doesnât. You sulk, âThat was mean.â
âAnd youâre idiotic.â
âWell⊠shit.â
This time you tilt your head, grinding your teeth; less out of anger, more out of embarrassment. You donât respond much else, and he doesnât throw another insult. Instead, he opens the bag again with the velcroâs ripping sound, heaving out his SLR.Â
You peek over his shoulder, confused about the timing to indulge in a passion, and ask, âWhat are you doing with that?â
âLooking through them,â he mutters, thumb working on the switching button, âmaybe I took a picture when I came here. A sign where to find the subway.â
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 doesnât 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, âHey.â Don't be so tetchy. I'm not that bad.â
Jungkook side-eyes you, tapping the screen of the heavy Sony A9 Alpha. Inhaling the pleasant late summer air, he defends, âI'm never tetchy! But you got us lost.â
âSo? Youâre being dramatic. There's still Google Maps.â
Thatâs it. This look of his.
Jungkook mustâve gotten stuck in a decade youâve long left, because he stares at you dumbfounded, camera still firmly in his hands. He tongues his cheek, blinks.
And then, you mock, âGuess Iâm not the only idiot here, right?â
His next breath is deep, and he soon averts your eyes again. You dig, âWhat? If anything, then low battery might be your only excuse, you know?â
He doesnât 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 youâll be heading in the same direction anyway.
You open your mouth to ask for his address, prepared to type it in â 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 heâs 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 doesnât 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 heâs 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 youâve seen and loved in this town. Still hear his harsh tone echoing in your ears.
In hindsight, you really donât think you've ever personally hurt or offended him. He mightâve 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 doesnât wade through life with it.
Youâd like to see his real self, though. The real self, because your gut feeling whispers to you that this isnât him. Maybe thereâs 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.
ButâŠ
Heâll probably say no. Your idea isnât dumb, youâre certain, but he very likely will not go with it. But you want to try. Want to show him that youâre 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.
YetâŠ
You donât want this to end just yet.Â
So you drop a suggestion that surprise even youâ
ââŠYou know what? Letâs try something fun tonight.â
âExcuse me?â
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, âYou need to trust me on this, though.â
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 doesnât look too happy about.
âHold on, okay?â you exclaim. âListen. Are you busy tomorrow?â
âUh⊠not until the afternoon.â
âSo you can sleep in.â
âI guess.â
You clap once, loudly and dramatically, watching the man in front of you flinch. You canât say if heâs irritated, shocked or terrified of you. But he looks hilarious like this, blinking, scowling as his fingers clutch his bag tighter.
âWhat is it?â he asks as if youâve lost your mind.
âLook. Letâs not leave yet. Fuck Google Maps,â you suggest, and his eyes grow wider by the second, baffled, as if youâre caging him. âLet 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. Isnât this tempting?â
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, âWhat even are you saââ
No, you wonât give up yet; even if the recurring interruptions make him tear his hair out. You click your tongue and then argue, âCome on! Give it a try.â
Hesitation. Or rather, a question wondering if youâre crazy. Clear rejection. Are you losing?
âWeâd be together, so nothing to fear,â you try further, âand how much time is there till sunrise?â You glance at your watch. âItâs 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, Iâll give you reasons to smile.â
He keeps looking at you in this questioning, are-you-fully-mad-manner, but youâre absolutely serious and you need him to know. You bat your eyelashes a little, offering your best laugh, and add, âLike this? If you really want to hate me after that, then okay. If not, then⊠maybe we could go get coffee someday.â
Youâve spoken enough. He raises a hand, quieting you down, and then finally says it.
âYou must be crazy.â
âI am,â you confirm.
âYou think Iâd do this, huh?â
ââŠMaaaybe?â
âNo.â
Jungkookâs answer is stone cold and direct, and it shuts you up with a near-wince. Thereâs a faint line between his thick eyebrows, lips pressed together; he looks dangerous and very, very mean.
So you donât 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 canât say anything to your presence by his side. Even if his answer remains a steadfast, boring no, youâll have to go in this direction anyway.
More than halfway through, you venture into a conversation again, âHave you ever tried anything like this before?â
âWhat? The nonsense you suggested?â he asks, and you nod, catching up with his long legs, slightly slower with your heels. âNo. I donât think I need to.â
âYouâre so⊠donât you ever try anything new?â
âI mean, is this your definition of something new?â He gestures at your surroundings haphazardly. âGoing through town in the middle of the night instead of getting some decent sleep?â
You shrug your shoulders, defending, âItâs not like I do it every day. And nothing one can do every day anyway. That's why I want you to try it.â Your voice is soft, friendly. âBut you donât have to.â
He doesnât answer; only comes to a halt when a bus stop nears, peeking up to the sign with the number before he asks, âThat yours?â You hum in confirmation. âOkay. Will you get home well? Itâs late.â
âYeah, of course,â you pout, kicking off a tiny stone with your shoe, âdone it a few times.â
He stalls. You donât know why, but youâre 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.
âAlright. Then⊠good night.â
And thatâs it.
You tell him to sleep well in return, earning a tiny nod, and then heâs leaving you stranded, walking away. Your eyes stay on him until heâs 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 youâre not surprised when youâre still there minutes later. For a while, you remain alone â that is, until a stranger tumbles to you, swaying before he takes a seat on the other edge of the bench.
You donât look at him; donât want his attention on you. But to your discomfort, he garbles just a second later, âThis the bus toâŠâ
He gets a hiccup, pointing to the bus sign, and then mumbles the name of the station he needs to reach. You donât understand, however, so you prod, âWhat?â
Slower now yet similarly slurred, he repeats his question, but this time, you understand and nod your head yes. He overshares, âItâs just that Iâm drunk, so I need to be sure. Sorry for interrupting.â
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, âItâs okay. Itâs really late. Get home well.â
âThanks. Youâre very nice.â
The same finger previously signalling to the sign now points at you; but he doesnât 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 somebodyâs nose.
But when your eyes meet the other manâs, 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 speaksâ
âAll good? Sorry, I left for too long, right? Letâs go.â
Your voice changes, a chuckle hidden in it when you blurt, âWhat?â
âYou wanted to take a walk.â
And just like that, the snicker dies again. Is he being serious? It seems so; itâs the whole package, even. The nod towards an entirely different direction and the sudden fingers around your wrist, pulling you away.
âUhmâŠâ you start, feet moving automatically. You turn to the guy drowning in inebriation, leaving a last, âGood luck!â as you wave, smile. Then, to Jungkook, âI thought you went away. Did you want to do this after all?â
Youâre cocking an eyebrow, but much at the back of Jungkookâs head, so he doesnât see. But it seems he hears the tease in your voice, because half-annoyed, half-argumentative, he explains, âNo. Just wanted to be a gentleman. I was going to leave the moment you got on the bus.â
Ah. So he was waiting, hiding somewhere? But you donât mention it; itâd probably just rile him up more.
Yet, you challenge, âYouâre lying. You were concerned and you thought my idea was fun after all.â
âWhatever you say,â he says, waving the white flag, probably just to shut you up, âdonât 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!â
Now he turns, shooting a stare at you over his shoulders, lightning bolts in the middle of his pupils, âIf youâre lying and thereâs literally nothing special on our way, Iâm actually never talking to you again.â
Nothing easier than that.
âDeal!â
âCool,â he so nonchalantly remarks, finally letting go of your arm, âwhich way are you heading then?â
âNorth-east.â
âGood. Works for me.â
The sun is nowhere near up yet; of course not. Itâs 1:37AM. Around four and a half hours.
Youâre 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? Youâll 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.
Jungkookâs 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, youâre 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 â he agreed to your idea after all â isnât as mad anymore.
At some point, he breathes in the late summer breeze, and your head swerves into his direction immediately â maybe the magic of the night has finally reached his core, too. Perhaps heâs 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. Theyâre fancy, bent at the top, the light a comforting golden.
You do admire the beauty in the dead of night, you do â 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 romcomâs protagonists probably felt, strutting through town with a man whose life theyâd change.
But as an involuntary groan slips out of you, Jungkookâs 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, âYou good?â
âYeah, yeah! Just been walking for a while, is all.â
âHmm,â he hums, regarding your heels with a suspicious look. âDo they hurt?â
âNah. Iâm used to them.â
ââŠOookay.â
He drags the word, as if in disbelief; and you canât 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; youâre nowhere near actually falling, but his arms still reflexively jolt, the camera bag swaying and hitting your hand when he catches your shoulders.
âOkay, seriously,â he spits, eyes wide, âthatâs enough. You canât walk in these.â
âI can!â
âNot!â He takes a look around, inspecting the place; itâs quiet here, not too many cars driving by at all. So he points to the edge of the pedestrian zone, instructing, âSit down there. Letâs see.â
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 isnât high, so itâs a little uncomfortable; but youâre pleasantly surprised when he appears in front of you, crouching.
Very, very baffled when he requests, âCan you take them off?â
âSure,â you say, unbuckling the straps around your ankles before removing the shoes. You sigh; you must admit, it does feel great. âIâm honestly okay, though.â
Jungkook doesnât respond, ignores your statement; instead, asks, âMay I?â
You donât understand what he means until his hands come to a float right over your toes; he wants to check for bruises, doesnât he? You nod curtly; something about this warms your chest. You donât think youâve ever seen this side of him before.
Not that you ever had the chance to.
He doesnât really hate you, does he?
Carefully, his fingers reach for your ankle. The touch is warm and pleasant; doesnât hurt until he moves his thumbs to your heel. Your feet are overworked; you notice. But rather than the annoying pain, you canât 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, âYou donât have a problem with touching feet?â
He shrugs his shoulders. âItâs just feet. Besides,â he stops for a second, detecting something at the back of your foot, shaking his head, âMom used to work as a nurse. Tough job. I massaged hers sometimes.â
Ah⊠a loving son, a family person. You smile.
âAnd I thought you have a foot kink,â you tease.
âShut up.â
âFound anything?â
âYeah actually. Do you know how wounded your skin is here? Were you wearing new shoes?â
You gulp with a thin-lipped smile, wondering if heâll kill you now if you tell him. You look to some random spot on your right before you admit, âYes.â
âGod, youâŠâ 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. âYouâre lucky.â
You chuckle, relieved and flattered. âI guess I am.â
He puffs out a laugh, but stops it right away, calling your name under his breath before he says, âGod, youâre crazy. Be careful. And admit it when youâre hurt. Why didnât you?â
Well⊠you didnât want the night to endâ
âIâŠâ
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 donât answer, he puts his arm on his angled leg, staring up at you in anticipation.
âYes?â he prods.
âI didnât say anything because I didnât think youâd care.â Nonchalantly yet pouting, you nibble at your lower lip. âAnd if Iâd told you theyâre hurting, you mightâve suggested ending the night.â
He cocks an eyebrow as if agreeing to the most self-explanatory statement ever, nodding as he confirms, âDamn right I wouldâve. We should end the night right now if you canât walk. Not in these, at least.â
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, âAnd if I was barefoot?â
Which he reacts to with a roll of his eyes. âThe night isnât that warm. Donât do this to yourself. The groundâs dirty, too.â
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.
âWhat are you doing?â he asks.
âWatch.â
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 doesnât speak until youâre 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.
âWhat?â you question.
âYou had them with you and⊠Why didnât you say so sooner?â
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, âIt was sweet. How you took care of me, I mean. I didnât think you ever would.â
âBut you couldâve at least worn them sooner and avoided the hurt?!â
âWell, it didnât hurt thenâŠâ
âYouâreâŠâ
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. Heâs offering it; and youâre quick to take it.
Warm and soft; gentle.
As he pulls you up, you land closer to his body than calculated; his face isnât 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 youâve processed the strange moment, you feel the change in your stance. Youâre 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. Heâs judging you; you understand. Your mindset isnât for everybody. You might seem crazy, alright.
Yet, he doesnât scold you again. The up and down of his irked voice doesnât appear this time when he speaks again; instead, his chin nods towards your legs, and he questions, âSo you just carry around shoes with you?â
âI need to,â you say, matter-of-factly, âI canât ride the motorcycle in heels. And!â Jungkookâs mouth opens, but youâre quick to explain. âBefore you ask. No, I didnât hide my bike anywhere. It needs some fixing, so my co-worker took it because he knows someone whoâll do it. And because he owes me a favour.â
âRight⊠how unfortunate.â 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, âSo, you have a bike, huh?â
âYeah⊠why?â
âNo reason. I do, too.â
âMmmh,â you voice, nodding to the road ahead to suggest moving. He follows, trudging next to you again. âYou didnât use it today?â
âNoâŠâ He pats the camera bag. âDidnât want to harm my equipment.â
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, âThank you. For caring even a little, you know? Even if youâre always like that, itâs nice to see you like this for once.â
âIâm usually like this,â is what he, however, merely answers, accompanied by air quotes.
But you know youâve 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, thereâs nothing but a delicate organ pumping behind his ribcage.
Heâs 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 â 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, âWhat do you mean owing you a favour, by the way?â
He sounds almost offended. You think heâll 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, âAre you in a quarrel with them? Am I not your arch-enemy?â
You burst into laughter immediately, covering your mouth as the other palm touches his arm. Thereâs a bulging bicep under his blazer, but youâll focus on that later.
Right now, youâre fairly occupied by the satisfied eyes; he doesnât really expect an answer. He wanted to make you laugh⊠Why does that set something loose in your brain?
âOh⊠are you jealous? What if I told you itâs somebody else who occupies my mind at night and not you?â you wonder, wiggling your eyebrows.
âDonât do this to me. Iâll find your co-worker and fight them for your enemyship. Word of honour.â
âItâs enmity. And stop flirting with me,â you tell him, moving towards him again, shoulder hitting shoulder. âOr is it something else with arch-enemies?â
This time, he doesnât veil his grin. Itâs 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, âYouâre not my arch-enemy. Arch-enemies donât exist, and you know you arenât one. You justâŠâ You stall, your voice quieter now. âYou just regard me as one.â
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 uttersâ
âNo, I don't.â
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 doesnât demand an answer, fully aware youâre looking at him.
And you donât ask what youâve 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, âAre you hungry?â
2:19AM, Him
Youâre irritating to the core.
You always have been. But heâd be lying if he didnât admit you amused him a little. No matter how much youâve been wasting his time, you allowed a smile in this ill-lit night. Nobody else at the party did â so in some sense, youâve already won, and somehow, heâs even grateful.
Grateful that youâre 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, âHi!â but Jungkook sees the lethargy in her drooping eyes immediately. Poor girl.
But youâre 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 â the image is somewhat cute. But what comes out of your mouth is not.
âUhm⊠Could I have a portion of cheese tteokbokki, please? And then⊠A half and half corndog for my husband.â
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 anybodyâs ever seen. He huffs your suggestion away, and then corrects, âIâm not her husband. And Iâll take the chicken wrap.â
You chuckle, leaning into him, shielding your mouth with a hand as you warn, âTheyâre not usually very good at this store. Trust me.â
âI know what Iâm doing.â
Right. He does. After the disaster of finding the damn bus and the deception caused by your shoes, he wonât trust you very easily anymore. His opinion clearly differs from yours, so heâll bank on his gut feeling.
Satisfied when you shrug, as if to indicate, âIf you say so,â 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, âWhat?â
âNot even your boyfriend, no⊠Jumped straight to making me your husband, huh?â
The lift of your shoulders brushes his concerns aside; your eyes are incredibly innocent and even somehow playful when you say, âI thought itâd be fun.â
âWas it really?â
âWell, your reaction was funny, at least.â
Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief. Youâre courageous, he must admit. Social anxiety must fear you â is that how you live life? Unabashed, spirited, not a sheer care for anything that wonât actually hurt you.
He doesnât know if youâre insane or if heâs jealous.
But he still reiterates, âYouâre crazy. And it was embarrassing.â
âI mean,â you say, moving on your chair, folding your fingers on top of the counter but still looking at him, âit was embarrassing because you made it. Itâs honestly whatever.â You blow a raspberry, and then take a swing again, âWhy is it awkward anyway? Weâll never be here together again.â
He whispers a hushed, âThankfully,â and you tap the counter with a click of your tongue. He gets it; you live differently. Thatâs fine. As long as you donât pull him into your mischief, itâs fine.
Right?
Heâs right, isnât he? He knows that in his personal opinion he is; yet, he canât help but feel that sting, suddenly deeming himself as boring. Youâre never bored, are you?
AnywayâŠ
âEven if you do something like this again,â he tells you, âat least tell me.â
âI mean, that would kinda prevent your genuine reactions from happening, but⊠if it makes you happy.â You grin at him, and he scoffs; wants to say something before the girl calls for you. âFood is ready.â
A couple seconds later, the two of you have settled back into place; at the sight of the snack, Jungkook salivates. He didnât 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 canât 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 chickenâŠ
He pauses. Where⊠are the flavours?
Slowing down, he glances at his meal. Inspects it as if heâs 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 donât say much when your eyes align. Only, âAnd?â
He knows heâs already lost when his expression changes, cringing; when he canât answer right away, only gaping at you in confusion. Still thinking about where this recipe went wrong.
He answers, âItâs fineâŠâ
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 doesnât know what for. For him to eat again? Maybe; because you soon ask, âDo you want something else?â
âNah.â His answer is instant this time. âI can do this. Iâm an omnivore.â
âAh, yeah. An omnivore friend right here.â You laugh, curious when he takes another bite. And then, âJungkook, itâs okay to admitâŠâ
But he wonât listen. Only makes a disapproving sound, stuffing his mouth with another horrendous bite. Shit; he canât confess that you were right. That you were actually right this time.
Suddenly, heâs craving a cup of ramyeon.
But he should keep eating. Wash it down with his drink, empty the soda. And heâs almost halfway through when he notices a movement from your direction, like youâre 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, âTake it, man.â
It does look goodâŠ
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 itâs because of the disappointment the wrap brought or the late hungerâŠ
Jungkook thinks heâs levitating above clouds, floating towards the sun.
Itâs good. Very damn good.
And when you ask again this time, âShould we get another?â his nod comes promptly, chest risen in satisfaction as he states, âThatâd be great.â
âAlright. Be right back.â
âNah,â he says, lifting an arm as if to protect you. Mid-action, you halt, sliding back up onto your seat. âStay here. Iâll get it⊠All good.â
So he does; enjoys the look of surprise when his other hand even carries dessert, four pieces of matcha mochi ice cream. He says, âThis is for you.â
You gasp. He canât deny that itâs sweet â the elation, the big eyes, the palms coming together in delight. How you look between the food and him, suddenly wiggling your feet.
âYou seem to like it,â he notes, and you nod feverishly, telling him that, âYes! Been craving it since we came in. Thank you!â
âOh. You shouldâve told me earlier! We couldâve gotten it. No worries.â
âItâs okay. I wanted to see if my dessert stomach still allowed anything. Didnât disappoint me today.â
Jungkook gets to his own tteokbokki, halving it in the middle the way you did, pushing it towards you. Itâs weird to think about it like this, but â considering how long the two of you have known each other, you might almost look like⊠friends.
And you donât feel quite like an enemy either. Youâre even⊠kind of nice. Friendly; harmless.
âIâm glad,â Jungkook responds, only looking towards the entrance when another group of three friends, two girls, a guy, enter. Then back to you, âSorry. You were right. This,â he points to the poor, sad wrap, âwas shit.â
âSee? My first instinct almost never lies. And I know this store from other places⊠the wraps are never good.â
âSure, but⊠your first instinct isnât always right, though, is it? You did get us lost, so it was wrong at least once.â
âHm⊠was it, though?â
Jungkook regards you in confusion as you put another piece on your tongue, working on the chewy thing as he asks, âWhat do you mean? We had no clue where we wââ
âYeah, I mean. I agree. But⊠I donât think it was that wrong. Becauseââ
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 itâs not that bad that youâre 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 likeâ
âBecause my first instinct brought me to you.â
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 youâre 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, youâre enjoying this journey. It almost makes him feel bad; guilty about how adamantly he refused all this just an hour ago.
It hasnât been too bad. Sure, youâre bold and intrepid, and yeah, in some ways he is, too â 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.
Youâre a different kind of daring; you challenge your limits in crowds and consider life a respectful joke. You donât ever hurt anyone, he doesnât think â 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 youâre different, but then again, not so much.
Youâre quiet; you werenât until you left the snack bar. As for now, however, you seem distracted, swallowing heaps of your dessert as you scan the surroundings youâve led the two into. Youâre somewhat unfazed by it, yet peering as though youâve been here before.
Which, in retrospect, makes sense. Youâve 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, âYou know what?â
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 â itâs somewhat sweet. But as he regains himself, he says, âI didnât think weâd get to a housing scheme here. The main street is super close, but the vibe is so different.â
âI know. Itâs a little scary at night when youâre alone. Gives very Desperate Housewives, doesnât it? Secrets veiled behind shut curtains.â You draw closer, imitating a spooky gesture. âBut I liked coming here when I was younger.â
Bingo. He thought so.
âAh⊠why?â
âMy friend lived here,â you explain with a tilt towards a random direction; he doubts the friend lived in just the house you gestured to, âsheâs long moved out of course, but weâd play on these streets back then. Most of the neighbours knew me, too!â
Jungkook tsks, hauling his own bite out of the cup, and you add, âNo, seriously! We could just knock at anybodyâs door here, and theyâd let me in.â
âNot if they moved out, too. A lot of time has passed.â
You bob your head. âTime has passed indeed. It does so pretty fast.â
âDoesnât it?â
You seem to get into overdrive, gearing up; he didnât 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 â the light of the lampposts reflects in your eyes like glitter.
Only, he doesnât foresee what you say next, your tone teasing through the joy you displayâ
âYeah! Like. Do you remember when I told you to not get the wrap and you still diââ
âShut up.â
The roll of his eyes isnât anything new; but the faint feeling that accompanies it, something akin to amusement, certainly is.
âOkay, but. Seriously,â you start again, sly smirk falling, voice neutralising the mock, âit felt different here. Because like, you know, where I live, it gets crowded. Iâm not too far from the city centre, so⊠this place always felt really peaceful to me. Jieun and I played together a lot.â
Jungkook frowns.
âJieun?â
âHm? Oh. The friend I spoke about? Sheâs pretty cool.â
âAh⊠Right, right.â
âMhmm,â you hum, the end of your small fork tapping the bottom of the nearly finished cup, âyou know another way to know that time passes really fast?â You pause for effect, then add, âItâs been ages since we saw each other for the first time.â
âRight. At a party, too, right? When was that anyway?â
âHmm⊠Like.â You ponder, blinking, looking up to the sky. âLike two years ago?â
Jungkookâs eyes widen; if youâd asked him, he wouldâve 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 doesnât feel like two years. Youâre right â time truly does pass like the wind.
âWow,â he exclaims, âitâs been this long since you started pestering me?â
âShut up,â itâs your turn to blurt, your body swaying towards him until you push him to the side of the vacant road. âI didnât even come near you most of the time.â
âI know, I know. You were fun to look at, though. Seemed to enjoy yourself every single time.â
Shit, why did he say that? Shouldnât he hold onto the image he fostered; the one thatâs permanently irked by you, throwing snarky remarks throughout the night?
AndâŠ
Didnât this just break the banter, the frenemyship â frenmity? â the two of you have going on? Was it too nice? Itâll 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 youâve been nothing but lovely to him all night?
The young adult rivalry is over, Jeon Jungkook. Look at her and fucking admit that youâre the arrogant one.
But funnily enough, you donât seem to notice anyway.
âHmmm, I do love my job,â you answer, âI 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 donât go as planned, but.â
You lift a shoulder, indulging in the final remnants of your chewy mochi and the melted matcha ice cream inside.
âI know. It happens to me, too.â
âReally? How?â
Jungkook waves towards the sky, lists, âHeavy rain, lots of traffic, too spontaneous, issues with the camera⊠etcetera. Anything can happen.â
âYeah â 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.â
âHow so?â
âLike, it makes you see that most people arenât bad.â
Huh. Odd. Not that heâd 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 arenât good either.
âReally?â he asks. âThatâs a lucky thing to experience.â
You look genuinely surprised, turning towards him when you ask, âYou donât?â
âUhm â rarely. I do enjoy photography. Always have.â His mind zooms into a glinting memory from the past, and his shoulders and voice rise when he recalls, âYâknow⊠My dad got me one of those yellow disposable Kodak cameras when I was a kid. I loved it so much.â
You nod; if he didnât know better, heâd almost say you look⊠delighted. Actually interested.
âAnd events and weddings,â he continues, âtheyâre beautiful to capture. Itâs probably the lights and the pretty people. And just⊠the memories?â
This time, he looks away, straight to the road; if he hadnât, heâd know that your gaze is definitely fond now. No doubt about it. You listen in closely.
Itâs the first time heâs talking to you like this, or to anyone â or for this long, for that matter. Most of your conversations were fleeting, fiery, a petulant back and forth that â he now realises â couldâve been something else, something better, too.
âBut then it just sucks when so many of them canât appreciate it properly,â he explains, raising his hands to emphasise, tone galled. âI mean, I look at my camera and I see a tool to create art. Itâs⊠nothing I take for granted. Just think about it.â
The ball of fire in his chest grows; he feels it warm up, gassed-up. âA thing that can hold onto moments in absolute high definition, so that you can still remember them years later? The 18th century couldnât have imagined. They needed to commit everything to memory just like that.â
âWow, Jungkook⊠You really do love this, too.â
His arms fall to the side. He inhales the fresh flurry of air. Rethinks his passion for his job and says, âYeah. Yeah, I guess I do.â
ââŠBut?â
He knows whatâs missing.
âI love the art, but I hate the clients. The event hosts. Not you, but the one even above you.â
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 itâs out and that heâs finally verbalised it to somebody⊠it definitely liberates something in his head.
You see his issue with these gatherings; he knows you do because heâs figured out this much. Youâre filled with enough empathy, sympathy, every grand word ending on the same syllable to acknowledge his disappointment.
But youâre filled with humour and absurdity, too, evident in the answer you provide to diffuse the tension.
âSo, thatâs why youâre always in a foul mood.â
âShuââ
âShut up, yeah, yeah.â You giggle, but then halt for a moment, toying with the rim of your paper cup, âBut you know, I think art is worth something even if just one person appreciates it. If it helps in any way⊠Iâm always impressed. And I always appreciate it when I call you and you come despite finding me so annoying.â
One corner of your lips lifts, the smile humble and light; sends a pang of guilt through him. Have you always been so nice?
âAlso, I do see the pictures almost every single time,â you add, âand youâre so good at this. At the job itself and the editing afterwards. Honestly.âÂ
ââŠYou think?â
Damn.
Jungkook would probably not bask in this hobby, continue his job if he wasnât proficient in what he does. Heâs known about his prowess ever since he was young.
But praises do offer a sense of magical warmth, donât they? He doesnât 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.
âOf course, yes,â you confirm, ânot to shoot up your ego, but⊠you once sent a set of pictures where I found one of me. Donât know if you even noticed? I was wearing that lilac dress and curls, I still remember â andââ
Stuck on the mention of your clothing, he immediately attaches a detail to the memory, âSleeveless dress. Long silver earrings, right?â
âOh⊠rightâŠâ
Right.
He wonât 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 youâd see it, too.
It seems you did. He feels satisfied, proud even.
âRight,â you repeat, your defences somehow down, âuhm. I printed the picture. Still have it somewhere.â
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 â do you look at it a lot?
And this again begs the question â when you do, does your decision to book a vendor like him fill you with pride? Like your choice was right?
âThatâs so nice,â he says.
âAll that to say,â you inhale, âthat I think youâre really fucking skilled.â
Woah. You werenât quite certain if your consolation would bring him any solace, but youâve done far more than that. Youâve shown him that you see what he does â and isnât this what every artist craves? To be seen?
The tension buzzes between him and you like electricity; he doesnât know if itâs just him lighting up or if youâre feeling a kindred link, too. But itâs somewhat intense in this moment of walking under the stars, surrounded by quietude and absolute pose.
So much so that heâs soon submerged by an odd urge to make the intensity wane, âHey, does this feel to you like⊠a clichĂ© chick flick kinda dialogue?â
You knowâŠ
The moment when two find an empty street in the middle of the night, realising that a conversation with each other isnât the end of the world after all?
That type of thing?
But he doesnât say any of it.
âYeah? Maybe. But itâs also true,â you argue, âIâm an honest person and I donât think Iâd say anything I didnât mean.â
âAh, yeah?â 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.
âMhm, one hundred percent,â he hears you say, followed by a light, quiet smacking noise.
He doesnât see what youâre 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. Itâs a mundane gesture; heâs done it ever since he was a kid.
But somehow, he canât 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, âWhat?â
Thereâs no response to that, really. He doesnât know either.
He doesnât understand how you turned out to be so right. How itâs 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 heâs on a different plane of reality.
This doesnât feel like Earth; and the town doesnât feel like the one he struts through during the day.
So maybe itâs not that wayward or groundless for him to lean in. To bend a bit more. Further and further until you laugh nervously; he knows youâre preparing to crack another joke, but you remain silent as he approaches.
Gauges your reaction. Will you run? You arenât.
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 heâs cupping it; and suddenly, his mouth parts â whatâs happening? â and thenâ
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, âShit. We almost died.â
âWe didnât,â he refutes, âwe had plenty of time.â
âOh no,â you stretch the last word, eyes squinting. An accusing forefinger points at him before you deduce, âWe almost died because you like me. Of all things!â
âI do not. You just looked kinda cute.â
Jungkook mightâve 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 wasnât trying to prove a point, your Cheshire Cat grin wouldâve made him laugh, too.
âBut you did almost kiss me,â you persist.
Ugh, youâre 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, canât believe he almost kissed you just now.
Why does he feel like a hormonal adolescent? Itâs not like heâs never kissed anybody.
Youâre still enclosed by pure delight, nudging his arm repeatedly, annoyingly. And when he doesnât 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. Youâre still smiling, working on removing his palm, but before your nonsense can proceed, a sudden light flickers in the corner of Jungkookâs 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 Jungkookâs hand.
Within a moment, he finds himself tugged away by you, running, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You blurt, âBetter get away before they kill us.â
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 youâre thinking the same as him â this happens outside of cinematic universes, too?
It takes a minute until youâve reached another road again; one of the kind heâs 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, Jungkookâs 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, âDonât act innocent. This is your fault.â
âWhat? You were lauââ
âBecause of you! Oh, I know you want me so bad.â
Youâre jesting, of course. Swaying your head, poking his chest, a brat straight out of some TV show. But what you can do, heâs been perfecting for years.
So he answers in kind, âAnd if I did?â
Only for you to utter something that not even his brain can compute.
âIf you did? Then⊠I think Iâd let you.â
âAh⊠Yeah? Why?â
âBecauseâ I think youâre just half as bad.â
His snicker is half amused, half flattered. He purses his lips, nodding, and then declares, âYouâre just a quarter as bad. But guess Iâve gotten so tired that Iâve started doing weird shit.â
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.
âHey,â you voice from behind, tapping his arm, âare you really tired?â
âI was kidding, but. Honestly? A little.â
ââŠHmm. You know, my friend lives in an apartment nearby. Jieun? Didnât move too far from her old home. We could stop there.â
Jungkookâs left eyebrow leaps up, surprised by the suggestion; the idea doesnât sound too bad. ButâŠ
âWasnât the deal to go around for a whole night, though?â
âOhhh. Are you starting to like it?â
Youâre observant, heâll give you that.
âIâm just saying,â he adds, âand also, would she just let a stranger in?â
âOh, sheâs very civilised and hospitable. She wouldnât mind, and sheâs known me for ages. She trusts me.â Maybe you detect the hesitation in his eyes and the twitch of the corner of his lips, because you immediately carry on, âWe can just stay for an hour and then go.â
âWould she be awake, even?â
âSheâs a night owl. I know that.â
âUhmâŠâÂ
He ponders. In some way, heâs kind of liking the breeze, the quiet side of this town. But⊠would Jieun find that weird? Then again, can he say no? Youâre ogling at him with these hopeful eyes; maybe you need the rest, after all.
âOkay,â he says; he even thinks you jump a bit in joy, nodding.
âOkay! Youâll like her. We can leave with newfound energy afterwards. Okay, cool.â
Thatâs all you need to lead the way. You look around a little, making sure youâre 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; heâs 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 heâs 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 doesnât 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 heâs planted firmly in front of the apartment complex. Heâs been waiting, back settled against the wall, and as you near, his eyebrows rise in question.
Your friend didnât respond until now â but just as you foretold, sheâs still awake at this ungodly hour.
âOkay. Sheâs home, but,â you explain, already ringing the bell to her apartment, âshe said sheâd be leaving soon. Sounds like sheâs in a rush. Typos and all.â
Jungkook waits until the buzzing sound of the opening door ceases and youâve stepped inside, leading him up the stairs, and then wonders again with big eyes, âAnd sheâll just let us stay? Alone at her apartment?â
You wave his concerns off with a handâs gesture, âShe trusts me, dude. Iâve done this a couple times.â
âWhat for?â
Hm⊠you dive back into the old days. Some new, some old. What were they again? Theyâre mostly blurred, but some of them are carved in your core memory.
âOh, justâŠâ you reminisce. âIf I wanted to meet guys and wouldnât want to bring them home back when I was still with my parents? Or when Iâd need a night to sober up. They wouldâve killed me if Iâd come home drunk. And Jieun moved out early.â
âHow old is⊠Jieun anyway?â
Old. Not really, but you like to vex her to the point of a pout. Sheâs patient, but sheâs also an incredibly close friend â you allow yourself to be a brat with her and she allows herself to roll her eyes.
âEarly 90s kid?â you guess. âA little older than us.â
â93, as far as you remember.
âAh. Damn,â he voices; you donât know why.
âOkay.â 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. âHere goes.â
She mightâve 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 thatâs, 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 wonât be here for long. And youâre focused on this very fact and her hurry so much that you nearly donât register how shy Jungkook gets.
His voice is somewhat smaller than before when he looks at her; your eyes shift to him, and heâs blinking before he finally breaks and mutters, âOh. Hi.â
âHey!â she retorts; she looks so sweet saying it. You understand his perplexity. âDate?â
âNah. Just a friend,â you answer, which, yet again â very confusing â makes him hum in question. If he started regarding himself as your date all of a sudden, you swearâŠ
You smile.
âJust a friend,â you repeat.
âFabulous. So youâre not walking around alone, at least,â Jieun concludes, letting you in. In the living room, a hand on her kitchen island, she points through an open door, âOkay, so, the guest room bed is made. Use blankets on it, if you want to rest.â
Her finger shifts to signal to the entrance you came through, imitates a pulling motion, âDonât worry about locking the door whenever you leave. Also got some leftover food in the fridge, but thereâs also cup ramyeon and some frozen pizza in the freezer. Sorry⊠I need to go shopââ
But you interrupt, shaking your head, âOh, no worries, really. We just ate, so weâll just stay here for a little, work off the food coma and leave. Wonât damage anything.â
âI know you wonât, baby.â
She moves to fetch her purse from the couch, and Jungkook uses the moment to whisper in your ear, âWhere is she going anyway?â
You donât know; you shrug your shoulders, pursing your lower lip, but echo his question a moment later, louder than him, âWhere are you going anyway?â
Previously cramming in her purse, checking it for content, she looks at you again, telling you, âAh⊠Jongsuk is having a bad night and wants me to come over.â Regarding Jungkook, she adds, âMy boyfriend. Heâs an insomniac and got stoned tonight, too, and justââ
Jieun blows a raspberry, raising a hand for a whatever gesture, and Jungkook mumbles, âOof. SoundsâŠâ
âYeah⊠I know. In any case. Make yourself comfortable, okay?â
âYes. Thank you so much.â
âThanks, Jieun,â you repeat.
She nods once more, waving her tiny hand and flashes one last smile before sheâs 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, âWhatâs wrong?â
âHm? Nothing.â
Nothing, right⊠thatâs 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, âDonât worry too much. What could happen? She does trust me.â
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 donât entertain it yet. Only add, âBesides, she owes me.â
He chuckles. âThatâs how you live your life, huh?â
âItâs alright. Weâll just be here for an hour. Sheâs known me all her life, so nothing to doubt here. And also, think about it,â the tip of your forefinger taps against your temple, âeven if something did happen or went missing, sheâd know where to find me and whom to report.â
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 â agreeing, âIf you say so. Then uhm â letâs lay down for a bit?â
âSure! Iâll just sleep in her room, so you can have your privacy here.â
âMhm. Okay.â
You stand at the door frame for a moment, feet unmoving.
Heâs 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 itâs covering his skin again.
Flawless back; pretty golden. A little further up, and youâre sure you wouldâve seen strong shoulder blades, too. Heâs worn fancy dress shirts at luxurious events before â you know many would kill for his built, because youâve 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 doesnât want to still be here by the time Jieun returns. Maybe he should tell you, too.
But his body wonât move.
Yet, in the time heâs failed to make up his mind, he suddenly hears a knock at the door again. Must be you â 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, âShe uhâ locked her room. No clue where the keys are. Guess thatâs why she specifically pointed out the guest room.â
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, âWhat do we do now?â
âWellâŠâ He looks around, though there is not much to take in. âI can sleep on the couch?â
ââŠThe couch is too small.â
âOkay. Then Iâll just sleep on the floor.â Heâs already working on getting up, no hesitation, scratching through his now messy hair, feet moving on the fluffy carpet. âIâll take one of those pillows, though. Carpet should be good enoâ what are you doing?â
Youâve charged towards the bed, climbed past him until youâre sitting behind him, facing his back and his craning neck. You say, âIâm not giving you that pillow.â
âWhy?â
âYou canât sleep on the floor.â
ââŠWhy not?â
You throw an unbelieving look, as if itâs obvious. Your flat hand gestures towards the carpet vaguely, and you argue, âItâs uncomfortable.â
âListen, I should. This or the couch, nothing else left.â Itâs crazy to you how he doesnât even consider the bed instead of giving it up for you. âItâs just an hour. Donât worry about it.â He stretches a hand towards you, curling his fingers in a grabby motion. âCome on. Gimme that.â
Youâre astonished â beyond pleased about the fact that he cares like this. That heâs so⊠mindful and humble. You give up; he wonât falter and you know.
âOkay⊠then take this blanket, too.â
He grabs the second one that Jieun provided, head bowing a little as he says, âThank you.â
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 doesnât quite fall upon you yet, and you guess Jungkook feels similar when he calls your name and asks, âWhat does she owe you?â
Your head moves towards his voice, even though he canât see you. âHuh?â
âJieun. What does she owe you? And your coworker.â
âOh. Uh. Honestly, just kindness.â
You can already see it â doe eyes rolling at another one of your cryptic answers. You know people donât fathom your thoughts very well, and some feel annoyed by your dreamy outlook of the world. You donât mind, but you wonder what heâs thinking.
But all he responds with is, âWhat?â
âWell, just. Theyâve known me for ages. Iâve 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 Iâve lent him some comfort over the years, too.â
It hasnât been too long, so you remember. Youâve been good friends with him ever since you started your job; a steady part of your team. He and you have got each otherâs back.
âThese two are friends,â you say, âand I think kindness is the most we can give our loved ones.â
Jungkook hesitates. Have you bored him to sleep? Or is he pondering your words, thinking of you as weird? Maybe notâ
Because he actually converses, asking, âYou think? Doesnât that mean weâre just kind to them then, so they can be kind to you in return?â
âI mean⊠yes and no. Owing might be the wrong word. Iâm not nice to others to get something back. Iâm like this because I want to be and because the world can be shitty and itâs important to be nice, and in return, I want people to be nice to me, too. Itâs not an eye to eye kind of thing, itâs just about. Spreading affection in relationships. Itâs what theyâre here for.â
ââŠHm. Is this why youâre never rude to me? Even when I deserve it,â he asks, registering a hum. âYou know⊠you think really⊠uniquely.â
This is a nice way to phrase it at least. People like you; youâre good with them. But sometimes, they can be mean, too. Not that you mind. Itâs natural â people occur in all types and shapes.
âBut is it unique, though? Isnât it a given?â you question.
âYeah, probably, I justâ never thought of it this deeply.â
âMmmh. So is me thinking uniquely a compliment? I canât say.âÂ
He laughs, and you join immediately, exclaiming an, âIâm serious!â in the middle of it all. Jungkookâs snicker is authentic, so you enjoy hearing it; but you like his answer even better.
âMaybe. 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 youâre genuine â you actually mean the things you say without any hidden intention to make people forcefully like you, right?â
An intention? Oddly phrased. You think, though⊠that what he said was nice.
Still, you confirm, âI donât try to be anyone for people to like me.â
âI didnât say otherwise! This is actually just what I meant. Besides, people like you anyway because youâre you.â As if heâs reading your mind. âThatâs what I was saying.â
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, âSo you think me being me is a good thing?â
You always considered it was. You like being you. But Jungkook didnât like whatever makes up your personality â has this changed? Apparently.
âOf course,â he surprisingly answers, âitâs always a good thing. And just because I disagree with some of your characteristics, it doesnât mean everybody will.â Oh. Well. But waitâ âOr maybe, Iâm just a moaner.â
Well.
âThat you are,â you verify.
âDamn.â
âBut, butâ youâre kind, too, you know? Not everyone says the things you just said.â
âMaybe.â
âSoâŠâ you stall, rethinking his prior words. âDo you still disagree with all those characteristics of mine?â
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 youâre being a little awkward; but in all honesty, you hope heâs just finding it amusing, somewhat cute.
âI mean â youâre too blunt. But brave, like, I could never. The thing you did at the shop? Never. But this isnât bad. And you arenât bad.â
âYeah?â
âYeah.â
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, youâre 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 heâs in the same room, talking to you this gently, saying things that a girl doesnât hear too often these days anymore.
There it is. The intrusive thought from before⊠prevailing.
And youâre 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 mightâve joked about it then, but deep down, and especially now, youâre intrigued by the idea. Of the fantasy of a what if â what if heâd actually kissed you?
Taking a deep breath, you look to the side, staring at the door and call, âHey, Jungkook.â
âHm?â
âIs it uncomfortable down there?â
âUh⊠a little.â
You shuffle at your spot, turning to the side. âJust thinking. What good does it do if we donât rest well? What are we here for?â
ââŠWhat are you talking about?â
Pause. Quietude. You close your eyes, then open them again.
Youâre never shy; so you donât deem it an advantage for yourself to turn timid now either. You tell him, âCome up. I know you want to. I know I want you to.â
He doesnât say anything; you bite your tongue. Maybe it was a mistake. But then his voice chimes again, wondering, âAre you sure?â
Your answer is immediate.
âOf course. Yes, Iâm sure.â
âOkay⊠okay.â
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 heâs uncomfortable with it.
âI⊠Was I wrongâŠ? Do you not want to?â you make sure.
âWhat?â you hear him say; see his head shake. âAh, thatâs not it. Just want to make sure youâre really okay with it. Iâm not the type of guy toâŠâ
âI know. Itâs fine. I donât think you are.â
âOkay.â 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, âHonestly⊠thatâs a little better, yeah.â
âThought so. Are you tired?â
âDefinitely.â
âBut youâre not sleeping.â
âBecause youâre talking.â
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 donât 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 youâre looking at each other. And heâs kind of close â closer than you thought.Â
And⊠if youâre not wrong, he just inched nearer only a nanomoment ago. He repeats in a whisper, once more accusing, âYouâre talking, thatâs why.â
âThatâs really why, huh?â
âMhm.â
âThe only reason there really is?â
âWhat else could there be?â
You smile, brazen, letting out the courage youâve gathered, âWell, I know what else it is for me.â
âYeah?â
Daring a step further, you graze his shirt featherlightly; you donât know whether he notices. Not until he moves his hand, fingers ghosting near yours.
Waiting until you reveal with sheer, sudden heart palpitations, âI⊠I want you to kiss me. You do, too, donât you?â
He inhales, but doesnât exhale. What does it mean? You donât know.
You donât know what it is until you hear the smile in his words, gentle yet tantalising when he says, ââŠI do.â
âGood. Good. Then kiss me.â
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 heâs 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 heâs relieved, calmed down, resting for the first time tonight.
Yet, at the same time, heâs firing himself up â moving over your body slowly, holding onto your mouth to his best abilities, as if youâd disperse if he let go for too long. As if youâd 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, youâd recognise how insane this situation is. Your younger self wouldâve 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 itâll remain stuck in your memory: the way heâs kissing you, so thirsty, so insatiable. How heâs 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 heâs nearly falling onto you.
What in the heavenly make out sessions is thisâŠ
Itâs 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 heâs 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 momentâs notice.
And it only worsens threefold when he whispers, âFuck⊠Somebody really knows how to kiss, huh?â
âYouâre talking. What was thisââ He so rudely interrupts with another peck, and you laugh into it. âYeah, thisâŠâ
Your last word dissipates like candle smoke; you donât 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.
Itâs easy to remove your dress; itâs light, summer-y â but he doesnât bare you just yet. Plays around at the mounds of your tits until he pushes the neck of the dress down a bit, asking, âMay I take it off?â
Oh, if you could count the times youâve imagined his veiny hands removing this damn dress just in the last fifteen minutesâŠ
âOf course,â you permit, âdo I look like Iâd reject you?â
âMmmh.â The hum is proud, satisfied, vocalised amidst another kiss to your clavicles. âJust making sure.â
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 â and when he doesnât find your panties but only bare skin, he stops kissing you. Looks at you. Makes out the string of your thong a second later â in the dark, you discern the way his lips round in captivation.
Heâs loving this.
He tugs at the string and lets it snap back into place; you gasp even though it doesnât hurt, but it drives you mad when he states, âWow. Very intriguing.â
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, âHoly fuck. I canât stop.â
âI didnât tell you to stop,â you guarantee.
âGood. Good, good, good.â
The dress surrounds your waist now, stopping below your breasts, and Jungkook journeys down to drag his lips around the spots he hasnât touched yet. As if heâs 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 â but then decides against it. You wouldnât mind; youâre not showing anybody anything of you tonight but him.
And youâre already such a mess; breathing so irregularly, letting out his name and quiet sighs. He should know he could do basically anything. That youâre 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, âWant you to suck my dick so bad.â He moves up, fingertips on your cheek, rubbing himself against your underwear, and questions, âWill you suck my dick, baby?â
Oh, he didnât justâŠ
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 wonât give him the satisfaction yet; youâve 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, âI have a better idea.â
âAh? Where are you going?â
âWait.â
He quietens. Falls to the side and onto his back as he watches whatever youâre 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.
âOkay. Should work on this first,â 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 heâs reached nirvana. You so hope heâs looking at you like this.
âMy GodâŠâ 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, âWhat?â
âI told you to wait, silly. Iâm not going anywhere.â
âYou sure? Youâre being pretty mean right now.â
âIâm not being mean. Youâre just not patient,â you laugh. âGive me a second and Iâll wreck your world, âkay?â
âAh?â
âMhm.â
âThat I wanna seâ oh. Oh.â
Exactly.
Once youâre 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 â middle one? â 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 youâre 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, âYouâve been hiding this from me?â
âHuh? I wasnât hiding.â
âNow I realise just how mean you are, man,â you say, shaking your head, spitting onto the slit before wiping it off again with the tip of your tongue. He swears again. âCouldâve had this make me hoarse so long ago.â
âFuck,â he replicates, âstop talking, or Iâll fuck this mouth of yours. You want to be hoarse so bad, then try me.â
âIs this a threat? You really think I wonât let you? Stay right there, littleââ You look again. âBig man. You can do whatever you want, but wait a second, alright?â
âNah. Youâre not the only one teasing. You brat,â Jungkook whispers sharply, delivering a smack to your ass; you gasp. âI justâŠâ
You donât know what he just â you only know that heâs 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 doesnât add to your sanity.Â
You decide to not let this distract you; heâs 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. Heâs so pretty all around.
âShit,â you whisper, hoping he doesnât hear; only continue to work your tongue around the head, setting the nerves alight as heâs 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 itâs hard. So hard becauseâ
God, heâs 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.
Heâs 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 donât 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. Itâs 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, âThis should be enough.â
And he agrees immediately, smacking his lips, as if licking up the remnants of his food, âFuck yes. Enough.â
You want to get into the next position, put in some work, but what you donât expect is that Jungkook is already planning a step ahead. Tapping your ass with his big manly palm, pushing you off of him until youâre crawling on all fours.
Submitted to him. And you donât mind a bit â just for now, just for him, youâll give into this because youâve been craving it. Itâs okay; you vow to yourself that in a while, youâll 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, âThe way you know what to do without me needing to tell you. How convenient.â
âWell,â you breathe out, âitâs not my first rodeo. But do make it the best⊠okay?â
âNo pressure at all, huh? Iâll try my best.â
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 heâs testing out how eager you already are; you contemplate on telling him. On pleading, on saying something that might drive him to action. You donât 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, thereâs no way youâd 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; thereâs not much going on yet, but youâre already holding onto the soundness of your mind so desperately.
âShit, what the fuck,â you murmur, your turn to let out profanities; youâre sure this isnât your last. âYou scared of something, Jeon? Iâm⊠I have an IUD.â
âScared? No. Youâre not an idiot, right?â he whispers. âYou wouldâve told me if you couldnât do it like this. Much ratherâŠâ He breathes heavily between his words. âIâm taking you in, yâknow? Enjoying â fuck â how wet and warm you are⊠Gonna wreck you raw, though, no p-problem.â
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 â but somehow, his care turns you on even more.
Goddamn, heâs good. All of him â his dick, his voice, his mouth, his touch. Heâs soâ nnghhâŠ
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 heâs 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, âSh sh sh⊠my God. Jieun has neighbours, babe â donât spoil her reputation.â
He proceeds to kiss the skin under your ear, taking your arms captive until theyâre pinned to your back. Fingers intertwine messily, holding your limbs in place, and as he frees your mouth again, you laugh â itâs all you can do to not feel too weirded out by the mention of Jieunâs name right now.
You tell him, âUse my panties then.â
âYour panties, huh? Do you want me to?â You nod, but heâs not obliging enough to give into your wishes. Teasing you to no end. âNah. Iâll justâŠâ
Jungkook doesnât 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 moreâŠ
Basks in your dimmed moans as he hits from behind again, hard. Sheathes himself inside you thoroughly and with impact; heâs enjoying the fact that you want to yell, but need to restrain yourself at this time of the night.
Because heâs right. You donât want Lee Jieun to earn looks in the morning because of you.
As if provoking you, he blatantly asks, âYou good?â
âYesâ yes!â
âMhmâŠâ
Heâs out of breath; can barely emit another word. But he doesnât 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, doesnât allow too many extreme movements, and youâre more than fine with it. Thereâs 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 donât fit his Greek God-esque physique.
Goodness, the damp dark hair. The abs. The pecs. The nipplesâŠ
You might dribble onto his sweaty, shiny skin. And you donât veil your innermost thoughts this time, straddling him as you say, âMy turn. Need to ride you so bad.â
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. Heâs 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 â 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, âI wonât stop you.â
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 donât give one, âYouâll kill me today, right?â
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 youâre 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.
âShiâ whatâ do you think,â he attempts, stagnant breathing, âyouâre doingâŠâ
But heâs grunting in ardour, so you donât stop; donât let him take over fully just yet. No â you roll your hips, bend your back, catch a patch of his hair and then angle your body to crash your lips onto his.Â
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. Heâs 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.
âThe fuck are youââ he tries, but you start circling his cock again, moving in eight-curves, seeking support in his biceps.
âWhat?â you voice. âNot good?â
âYou fuckingâ kidding me?â His lower lip trembles when he parts his mouth. You see it even with the lights dimmed. âThis is such⊠a good fucking pussy. I was an idiot to push you aside.â
Youâre too dazed to really pout, but you do hear the undertone; ask to clarify, âYouâre just saying that f-for⊠getting my pussy, huh?â
âWhatâ no. Fuck no. Look at me.â His hand reaches out, fingers poking into your cheeks, and he pulls you down to him, makes you meet his eyes. You slow down. âI wouldnât just do this for any pussyâ I⊠not with you. I donât just. I donât just go home with anybody. âKay?â
His words bloom in your chest like a bouquet of flowers. In such a vulgar moment, you shouldnât be feeling like this, but you canât help but acknowledge the warmth spreading throughout your body. Burning up your already aflame muscles.
You want to know more; so you query sneakily, âWhat does this mean?â
âWhat it means?â he echoes, words blurry, as if drunk. âThat youâre beautiful. And⊠honestly, kind of cool. So annoying but so fucking funny andâ hotââ
âI am? Look at this,â you say, still moving but tired; touching his face, his cheeks, his sweet nose, âlook at youâŠâ
âNo.â He grits his teeth. You donât know what comes over him, but heâs inhaling way too deeply, lightly aggressive again as he retorts, âLook at fucking you.â
And with that, he gets what he desired earlier; flips you over, climbing over you. With your shield lowered, you didnât expect this, and now youâre 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.
âJungkookââ you repeat over and over, and in return, he mutters constant, âI know, I know.â
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 heâs 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, âOh, fffââ
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 thenâ a mere moment later, heâs shooting ropes of white down your throat.
Youâll never get used to the feeling. You didnât with your exes, didnât with any other guy youâve been with. Itâs sudden, your gag reflex kicking, but you donât 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 heâs 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, heâs smiling again.
You tell him, âCanât believe this actually happened.â
âCrazy⊠right?â
âCrazy, yeah. WeâŠâ You gulp. âWe can leave it right here, though. Guess we were both riled up.â
He nods, humming, looking to the side. âWe could. But we donât have to. It felt too good to forget, you know?â
You gleam and glow; if you could, youâd 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, âYou know what⊠I might just agree.â
âGood.â Another one of his stares to the side, through the door of the room. âYou think we should very quickly and very harmlessly use Jieunâs shower? She probably wouldnât mind.â
âI donât think she would. But sheâd certainly know what happened.â
âLeast of our concerns,â he argues, getting up stark naked. He pats your thigh and then tugs at your arm, adding, âWeâll be tidy. And then we can rest a bit and leave. Am too fired up anyway.â
You know things might change again once youâve 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 itâs okay. Itâs 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, youâre ready to seize just a little more of this stolen moment before reality sets back in.
5:12AM, Him
Whether itâs the numbers glowing on his digital watch or the fact that the two of you didnât rest as much as youâd anticipated after all, he doesnât 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, doesnât help. He doesnât know why youâd 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, itâs even flattering that you trust him this much.
But heâll 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.
Youâre 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 doesnât end, nobody around far and wide.
Youâre 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, âCome on! We just rested. How are you already tired?â
âWoman. Weâve been walking for a pretty long time.â
âUhmmm,â you exclaim, swaying when you pull your hair over your left shoulder, âtell me something. Whatâs your sleep schedule usually like?â
Well, shit.
Jungkook can already tell what youâre 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, âAnd?â
He answers, âUh. Late. I slept at 7AM just last week.â
âWhat?!â Your voice is high-pitched, in disbelief, and whatever point you wanted to make is stuck in your throat upon the revelation he divulged. âHoly shit, Jungkook.â
âYeah, but like,â he immediately works on justifying, making use of the comeback heâd already thought out, âI donât walk around town, you know? I spend these nights eating or singing orââ
âWoah. You sing?â
âYes, but. I will not sing to you now.â
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, âI wasnât even going to ask.â
But instead of vocalising that very overt thought, your answer comes as smoothly as silk, âItâs fine. You sang to me plenty tonight.â
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, âYouâre one to talk. May I remind you of what you sounded like earlier?â
âYou can. But I do remember myself, thank you.â
Damn it. Youâre a step ahead all the time. He canât even outsmart you the way he wants to.
âWay to diss me. Youâre hardcore,â he complains, âand here I thought you were kind and sweet and all of that.â
Jungkook nearly retracts his statement, because you throw such a perplexed and disbelieving stare back that he shrinks, reprimanded, âCanât I be both? A woman can certainly be both, man.â
âOf course,â he agrees, hands up as if heâs being arrested, âof course. Youâre both, for sure.â
He anticipates more scolding and scowls, but it seems youâre 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 intoâ
A mixture of a gasp and a shriek.
âWhââ Jungkook blurts, barely registering the movement scurrying from the left side of the forest into the trees right of him. âThe fuck.â
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 canât 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 heâs standing right now.
He mustâve 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 mustâve 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, âWow.â
âUh⊠all good.â
âYes. All good indeed.â
Your voice is tinged with a combination of gratification and tease, as if youâre one utterance away from adding a little, âMy knight in shining armour.â
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, heâd 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 hasnât been at such a spot before â he grew up in a big, mountainous city.
But since he didnât expect for the hillâs peak to allow such art, heâs a little more overwhelmed than he expected to be.
From behind, he hears you say, âIn any case. Letâs rest here?â
âUh-huh.â
Itâs hard to avert his eyes. All night long, heâs only felt like this once; this marks the second time.
Gratefully, he walks up to where youâre 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. Itâs certainly cooler up here.
And then, you pat the spot next to you, and he lets himself fall with a sigh; itâs been a long night, and despite the restful-not-restful hour you spent at Jieunâs, it feels as though heâs 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 canât 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. Theyâre the brightest of them all.
âWait,â 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 youâre 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, âYouâve never been here before?â
âI donât think so.â
âHidden spot then.â
âItâs beautiful. Look there,â he points to a spot that you carefully follow, even squinting an eye shut; it makes him smile. âThatâs the ferris wheel in the amusement park. Can you see? Wait.â
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.
Itâs 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 seasonâs 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 heâs 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 doesnât know how long he squats there against the backdrop of the luminescent sea, but when he comes back to you, youâre still sporting that excited smile, eyebrows high. Your eyes fall to the camera, humming when he says, âLook. There.â
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 donât know how big of a deal it is that he lets you handle it.
If you did, youâd never let him live it down.
You scoot closer, your temple now nearly touching his. You stare with an interest he hasnât 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 â your mouth parts as you switch around, taking in details.
âGood?â he asks.
âBeautiful,â you sincerely mutter, returning the camera to him. You hold it like a kitten; perhaps you do know what the gesture meant. âThis is exactly why I wanted us to come here.â
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 youâre doing instead is turn the spotlight towards him and what he loves.
âYou⊠did it for me?â he asks.
You, casually, as if the thoughtful act doesnât flood him with serotonin, reply, âYeah. To capture a couple pretty pictures. You really do love it, so.â
âI do⊠wow, thanks.â He pauses. Looks down to the buttons on his camera, to his hands; then back to you. âYou thought of it all, right? The nice places and the short rest at Jieunâs. Now this.â
âHmm, tried as much as possible so spontaneously.â
âThank you. Really.â
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 doesnât notice when you sigh or when you zone off; or when your thoughts shift back to the minutes and hours of the night. He doesnât notice; and in return, you donât know that heâs still thinking about the intention that brought him here; that you were attentive enough to truly show that some people appreciate art.
There arenât 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 â 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.
ButâŠ
Heâd love to talk to you again.
However, your mind hasnât quite drifted in this direction; in truth, he honestly canât analyse or interpret you at all, because the question you pose next is far from what heâd been thinking about.
âTalking about pretty⊠uhm. Did you think Jieun was pretty?â
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, âWhat?â
âAh, donât lie. Sheâs very pretty.â
âSure? She is.â
Heâs nearly forgotten what she looked like. But beauty is still perceived and remembered â he guesses he found her good-looking.
âAnd sheâs everyoneâs type,â you prod, âwhat do you think, though? If she didnât have a boyfriend, could you imagine liking her?â
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 heâll play along.
âHmmâŠÂ Maybe,â he answers.
âSo she is your type.â
Or maybe, youâre 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 heâd assign to you.
And coming from you of all people, he somehow does not find the topic interesting. Itâs weird; he doesnât want to talk about it; he doesnât 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, âHey!â
âThatâs what you get for asking such strange stuff.â
âItâs not strange! Iâm just small-talking.â
âYou do not small-talk.â
âIt could be a deeper conversation if you just admitted it.â
He chuckles, turning his body towards you, half his leg on the bench, âAdmit what?â
âThe type thing!â
âSure. I donât just have one type, though, you know?â
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 itâs 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 â but heâd be lying if he said he didnât want it to linger.
In some way, it still does.
You ask, âOkay? What are your types then?â
âDifferent girls.â This time, only one shoulder shoots up. His eyes match his pensive hum. âWhoever suits me. Pretty girls but also nice girls. Especially nice girls.â
âAlright, be honest,â you begin, mimicking his position until your leg lifts onto the bench, knee nearly touching his. Youâre warming up now. Finally spitting the true question soon, âDo you think Iâm pretty?â
Cute.
But heâs not giving in this easily.
He smirks; he feels the dimple on one side of his lopsided smile the moment you look at it. Youâre distracted enough â so he uses the mental absence to attack you with yet another picture.
For a couple blinks, youâre startled â 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 â better even since you washed most of your make up off. Yet, he canât contain himself when he shows you the screen, telling you, âYou look alright.â
You laugh, rolling your eyes and your gaze to the view; your giggles start quietly, and then mix with his. Beforeâ
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 canât 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 didnât 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. Theyâre in love, because amidst their titter, thereâs another lewd sound. Or maybe, not too bad; playful kisses?
Yes.
The guy â heâs smooching his girlâs cheek, releasing with a, âMwahâ 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 eyebrowsâŠ
When the couple spots the two of you, they gasp; the girlâs hand immediately bolts to her chest, as if she just encountered a wild boar. But she catches herself soon, apologising, âOh. Sorry. Weâre sorry.â
You respond with an, âItâs okay!â Jungkook shakes his head politely to shrink their worries. Theyâve walked away as soon as they came, but he still hears the womanâs scolding, effect lessened by the still occurring belly laugh, âI told you to calm yourselfââ
As the world quietens again, Jungkook huffs, tilting his head as he deduces, âSo late and yet⊠Not much of a hidden spot after all.â
âIt feels like an ancient hill to me. I donât often meet others here.â You breathe in the wind, then tongue your cheek. âThey probably didnât even notice where they were going. People in love never do.â
âI guess so.â
He guesses so.
Itâs 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 thatâll 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. Youâre 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, youâre 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 â 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 đ„°
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Cross My Heart | KMG
Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (afab)
Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, friends to lovers (?), non-idol!AU
Rating: M (18+)
Warnings: pussy drunk mingyu, late night texting, biting/marking, fingering, lots of flirting, lots of teasing, grinding/dry humping, dirty talk, cunnilingus, face sitting, come eating, hand job, mingyu's a messy boy, OC is needy and mingyu loves it, mingyu has maybe the tiniest bit of a praise kink, use of pet names - pretty, mingyu requests death by pussy
Word Count: 5.2k
Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I donât own SVT - they just inspire me
Summary: Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.
Text Prompt:
You: I canât stand you
Mingyu: Then sit on my face
A/N: Hiiiii I'm writing for svt now and I'm starting with Mingyu because he's driving me insane. This is actually the first in a planned series of 13 svt fics based on text prompts. I'm fully in my self-indulgent era, so this is for everyone who, like me, needs some munch 'Gyu right about now đ
Unbeta'd as usual. If you like this and want more svt fics from me, please let me know! I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile đ„ș) đ
SVT Masterlist đ Main Masterlist
Itâs finally here. After months of planning, you and your friends have flown halfway around the world for a week of vacation. The six of you arrived just a few hours ago, and after the long flight, the long wait at the airport for your luggage, and the long drive to the hotel, youâre exhausted.Â
Well, mentally youâre worn out, at least. Your body? Is still on your old timezone, where itâs currently tomorrow morning. So it thinks that you need to be awake, even though itâs night where you are. You had stayed awake the entire flight here in order to avoid this very problem.Â
Fucking jet lag got you anyway.
Unlike you, Seungcheol and Vernon are having no issue sleeping. The three of you are sharing one room, while Minghao, Wonwoo, and Mingyu are sharing another. You glance over at the two lumps tucked in their beds, snoring away like you would be if your body wasnât so confused.
Because youâre trying to be a good friend and let them sleep, youâre lying on your bed, scrolling lazily through your various social media apps. You could watch something, but you donât really have the focus right now. Yet you want something pleasing to look at. Something to mindlessly enjoy while you wait for exhaustion to overwhelm you.Â
So, naturally, you turn to your favorite nightly pastime - scrolling through your social media apps, looking for any new posts from Mingyu.
Itâs an addiction, borne out of your raging crush on your friend. Well, really, heâs Minghaoâs friend, you donât know him as well as you do the others, but still. Youâre friendly enough around each other. Which is because Mingyu is so nice, such a sweet and funny guy who always makes you feel more than welcome whenever heâs around.Â
Heâs also a blatant flirt. At first, his cocky smiles and playful words made you think he might be interested in more than just being your friend, but it wasnât long before you realized heâs like that with everyone. So you tamped down the hope that burned in your chest, leaving only a simmering crush to smolder forever.
Itâs morning back home, where most of your friends have barely started their days, so your feed is fairly dead. There are a few photos from Wonwoo from the flight, including one of Minghao sleeping with his mouth open that you immediately save to your favorites, a couple from Vernon, and, of course, several from Mingyu. You tap into his page.
Mingyuâs an avid photographer, particularly of beautiful things - breathtaking landscapes, delicious meals, himself. Mostly himself, to be honest. Not that youâre complaining. Itâs maybe the most mutually beneficial relationship youâve ever been in. Mingyu loves to provide pictures of himself. You love to admire them. A win-win all around.Â
You tap back to home and refresh your feed. A new post appears, from Mingyu. The jet lag must be getting to him, too, if heâs awake and posting right now. The photo is another selfie, this time of him lying in bed, one arm resting behind his head, showing off a perfectly sculpted bicep. God. Could he be more gorgeous?Â
Clicking into his page again, you rub your thumb over the screen to make his photos flip by in an endless parade of hot Mingyus. Itâs ridiculous, you muse, watching picture after picture roll by, to think about how much time Mingyu must spend on these photos. Making sure heâs got the perfect lighting to bounce off his muscles just right in those gym selfies. Or figuring out the best angle to show off that sharp jawline of his. Just ridiculous. And yet, every second isnât spent in vain, considering how the photos drew you in like shiny trinkets to your magpie eye.Â
It would be so easy to think of Mingyu as a modern day Narcissus, endlessly snapping selfies, drowning in his own reflection on his phone. But heâs never struck you as conceited. Itâs something else - a desire for connection, perhaps. A need for-
A tiny heart floats up your screen and you gasp. Shit. You just liked the post the scroll stopped on - one of his many gym selfies, frame zoomed in on his torso, his hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to show off his rippling abs.
Your eye drifts to the date of the photo. Posted eight months ago.Â
Quick as lightning, you hit the screen again, shattering the little heart icon. Your pulse is beating too fast. Thereâs no need to panic. He couldnât have seen that. Maybe youâre overreacting, but no one needs to know youâre lurking in his profile in the middle of the night, especially not him.Â
A notification drops down over Mingyuâs face. A message.
Mingyu: Someoneâs up late.Â
Ah, damn. You were too slow. And now heâs in your DMs.Â
After taking a moment to shriek quietly into your pillow, you write back.Â
You: Canât sleep
Mingyu: Same. Jet lagâs got me fucked up
Mingyu: You know what always helps when I canât sleep?
You: What?
Mingyu: Creeping through someoneâs old photos
Even though heâs not here looking at you, your neck flames with embarrassment anyway. You could play it cool. If only you knew how to do that.Â
You: Shut up
Mingyu: Itâs ok, Iâm flattered
You: Oh fuck off
Mingyu: No really, I am
Mingyu: I like that you want me so bad
Pressing your mouth firmly into your pillow, you swallow another screech. Here we go. Right into the flirting. You canât handle this right now.
You: Idk what youâre talking about
You:Â It was an accident
Mingyu: Oh you were accidentally admiring me?Â
You: How did you even notice? Are you just staring at your phone, waiting for attention?
Mingyu: I mean yeah
You snort.Â
You: Youâre ridiculous
Mingyu: Maybe. But Iâm honest about it
You: Iâll give you that
A few seconds go by, then a minute, then two. Maybe youâre boring him. Maybe heâs found something else to entertain him. Or someone else.
When the next notification comes in, you jolt a little.Â
Mingyu: What else will you give me?
And now your heart does a funny jump as you stare at his words. God, what a question. How you wish he were asking for real, and not just being playful, like he always is.Â
Would it be too real to reply with the truth? âWhatever you want?â
You: I donât know
You: What do you want?
Mingyu: What if I say you?
Suddenly you donât understand words.
You: Why would you say that?
Mingyu: Because itâs my answer
Mingyu: Iâm being honest again
You: Thatâs the jet lag talking
Mingyu: Oh come on
Mingyu: You really donât know?
You: Know what??
Mingyu: How I feel about you
Is he being serious right now??
You: If this is a joke I donât get it
Mingyu: Not a joke
Mingyu: Hold on
The notification icon on your app suddenly lights up. One heart. Two. Three four five. You open your notifications and immediately start laughing. Mingyuâs going through your oldest photos and liking them, one by one.Â
Mingyu: See? Iâm obsessed with you
Seungcheol grunts in his sleep, and you press your arm harder over your mouth, trying to muffle yourself better.
You: Youâre so annoying, oh my god
Mingyu: So annoying that you canât stop looking at my photos at 1 am?
Mingyu: Or flirting with me?
You: Is that whatâs happening? Are we flirting?
Mingyu: Ok donât act like you donât know
Mingyu: I flirt with you all the time
You: You flirt with EVERYONE all the time
Mingyu: Yeah but I only mean it with you
Like any other time this happens, any time his words make your head spin, you put on the brakes, stopping before you start to believe you might have a chance.Â
You: Youâre so dumb
Mingyu: Are you really going to pretend youâre not enjoying this?
You: Who said Iâm pretending?
Mingyu: Me. I know youâre loving this
Mingyu: Because you want me soooooo bad
You: Shut uppppp
Mingyu: Go on, yell at me
Mingyu: Youâre cute when youâre mad
You: No really
You: I canât stand you
Mingyu: Then sit on my face
Your mouth falls open, an amused huff of air escaping in a befuddled laugh at his unexpected response.Â
You: What?
Mingyu: Come shut me up. Sit on my face.
Youâre blinking so hard, you can hear your eyelids clapping together.
You: Fuck off. Stop playing.Â
Mingyu: Whoâs playing? Iâm serious
Mingyu: Smother me with those gorgeous thighs of yours. Iâll go out a happy man.Â
Your gorgeous thighs? Heâs never said anything like that before. What the fuck is happening.
You canât help but picture it - him lying on his bed, you kneeling over him, fingers tangled in his dark hair as you ride that pouty little mouth of his. Itâs not the first time youâve fantasized about it, but itâs the first time the vision has felt⊠possible.Â
Mingyu: No response? Youâre just gonna leave me hanging like this?
You: Donât tease me
Mingyu: Trust me, there are a million ways Iâd love to tease you, but this isnât one
You lay down again, rolling onto your side, curling in on yourself, like youâre trying to contain all the excitement rushing through your veins, keep it from spilling out and over into the room where your friends are still sleeping. Â
You: Youâre really serious?
Mingyu: Cross my heart and hope to die
Mingyu: Between your legs
Again you laugh.
You: Youâre such an idiot
Mingyu: Does that mean youâre not coming over?
You: Like right now??
Mingyu: Why not?Â
Mingyu: Wonwoo and Minghao both slept on the plane. They went out exploring
Mingyu: Iâve got the room to myself
You bite your lip, a little harder than you normally would, the sharp sting confirming that you are not dreaming and this is, in actual fact, happening right now.Â
You: I guess if Iâm not sleeping anytime soon
In the dim light from your phone, you eye the path to the door. You can easily make it out of the room without waking anyone. Should you so decide.Â
You: I could come over
Mingyu: I promise Iâll make it so good for you
Mingyu: Eat that pussy like you deserve. Make you cum on my tongue over and over
You inhale sharply. Heâs definitely never talked about your pussy like that before. Reading his words has you positively throbbing.
Mingyu: Please, just let me taste you
What else is there to say to that but -Â Â
You: Iâm coming over
Itâs a short walk to Mingyuâs room. A rush of anticipation hits you as you raise your hand to knock. It doesnât take long for the door to open, bringing you face to face with the man whose social media you canât stop stalking. Mingyuâs shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging alarmingly low on his hips, and if you werenât already planning on crushing him with your thighs, this insta thirst trap of an outfit would push you right over the edge.Â
âThat was fast,â he laughs, stepping aside to let you in. âDid you run down the hall?âÂ
âI thought I told you to shut up,â you shoot back.Â
âAnd I thought I told you to make me,â he smirks, reaching for you at the same time you reach for him, practically mashing his teeth against your lips as he pulls you in for a kiss. Despite what he just said, heâs kissing you, too eager to wait for you to do what he demands.Â
Itâs rough and messy, all teeth and tongue, both of you doing your fair share to keep the other silent. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say speechless, because Mingyuâs definitely not being quiet, moaning into your mouth, and youâre certainly whining loud enough for the other rooms to hear you.
He presses you back into the door, chest to chest, hip to hip. You tilt your head and he follows, chasing your mouth, as if heâs needing another taste. Your hands roam over his biceps, his shoulders, his neck, covering every inch of warm skin thatâs exposed, and he slips his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly tight. Not for one second do your lips part. This is the type of kiss youâve always read about in your favorite stories - the one that makes your knees weak, makes your head float, makes you forget everything but Mingyu.Â
Itâs delicious. Itâs amazing. Itâs every superlative you can think of. But itâs not enough. You want more. Part of you wants to tell him to get on with it, take you to bed, because youâre here to make him eat his words by eating you, but the other part isnât about to quit kissing him any time soon.Â
Thankfully, Mingyu takes care of your dilemma by eliminating the choice. Without warning, he bends his knees and lifts you, big hands secure on your thighs to hold you close to him. Okay, now itâs like one of your stories, the way he lifts you like youâre lighter than air. Youâd swoon if you werenât so busy licking into his lips. All that time in the gym is really paying off
He carries you to his bed, displaying his impressive thigh strength by slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, bringing you into his lap. You loop your arms around his shoulders, desperately seeking his mouth, as if the 0.2 seconds between kisses might kill you, which, honestly, it feels like it might, and youâve never been in this situation before, making out with the man of your dreams, so for all you know, it will, so why risk it?Â
âStop me if Iâm going too fast,â he says between kisses.Â
âYou can go as fast as you want,â you reply, without even a secondâs pause. âJust donât stop.âÂ
âDamn, and here I was worried I was coming off too excited,â he grins, face lighting up in delight. Then he kisses your cheek, whispering against your skin at your offended huff. âItâs okay, I like how needy you are for me.â
âShut up,â you groan, but you know he felt the way you shuddered, so you give up the weak protests and start kissing him again, twisting your fingers in his hair to keep him close.Â
Mingyu finally stops laughing when you take his bottom lip between your own, sucking and licking at the plump skin. With a groan, he digs his fingers into your sides, and he starts to guide you back and forth, rolling you over the eye-catching bulge in his sweatpants. Itâs a sight that makes you clench, thinking about how much you want to sit on it now, just pull him out and ride, too needy to feel him inside you to even take your clothes off.
But again, you want more. You want what heâd promised earlier. Â
He nips his way down your throat until his mouth latches at the base of your neck, sucking and biting, and you whimper, squirming in his hold. â
âGyu, please!â
âPlease what?âÂ
He doesnât lift his head, too absorbed in sinking his vampire-like canines into your soft skin, not sharp enough to pierce, just hard enough that you know youâll have bruises blooming there tomorrow, little souvenirs of this moment.Â
Please everything, you think. You want it all, whatever heâs willing to give, youâll take. Youâre feeling greedy as fuck right now.Â
âI want what you promised me.âÂ
âHold on,â he intones seriously, right before laving his tongue over a fresh mark. âLet a man at deathâs door enjoy his last moments.âÂ
âOh my god, youâre so stupid,â you groan, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together. Heâs just - just such an idiot, such a stupid sexy idiot and you want him more than youâve ever wanted anything in your life.
âFine,â he says after a few minutes of frantic making out, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, hands circling around your ass, squeezing as he pulls you closer. âTime for my last meal.âÂ
He kisses away your embarrassingly pleased moan, and then he maneuvers the two of you around so heâs lying on the bed on his back and youâre straddling him. As he watches with rapt attention, you peel off your shirt. Since youâd been dressed for bed, you hadnât bothered to throw on a bra. Judging from Mingyuâs expression, you made the right call. Â
âPretty,â he breathes out, wide eyes finding yours, and you have to take a beat, have to take a moment to sit and let the reality of the situation wash over you. The two of you are here, together, in this hotel room half a world away from home. Both wanting this. Itâs clear to you now just how eager Mingyuâs been since you walked in. He wasnât lying - he wants you just as much as you want him.Â
With this new understanding, you stand up to slide your shorts and panties off in one go, before straddling him again, and lowering yourself for another kiss. Immediately, his arms are around you, gliding down your back, all the way to your bare ass, taking the biggest handfuls he can.Â
âYou drive me insane. So pretty, so hot.âÂ
Mingyuâs words kick the simmering heat in your gut into a full blown fire. You moan into his kiss, grinding yourself against him. One of his hands grips your side, helping you chase the friction, while the other slips between your bodies. When his fingers brush your inner thigh, he lets out a strangled groan. âOh fuck, youâre so wet.â Â
âYour fault,â you gasp, lips fervently pressing against his, licking at the seam of his mouth until he allows you in, so you can roll your tongue over his like you roll your hips.Â
âThen allow me to make it up to you,â he grins, long fingers cupping your mound, trapping the heat there in his palm as he rubs it against you. You keen, thighs already twitching. Youâre going to lose your mind before you even get to his face.Â
Youâre not alone in that feeling, as he suddenly reaches for your thighs, urging you to crawl up his body. âGet up here, please,â he begs, flat out begs you, and you slide forward as fast as you can. You need his mouth, right now.
Hovering over him is a little surreal - MIngyuâs big brown eyes are gazing up at you in a perfect replication of your favorite daydream, only itâs so much better than youâd ever imagined, because the expression he wears is one of complete awe, like heâs the one living out his fantasy. Again you feel bold, so you run your fingers through his hair, nails lightly scraping over his scalp. He moans quietly, low in his throat, like heâs trying to hold it in, and your mouth quirks in a half smile as you kneel.Â
âNice knowing you, âGyu.âÂ
He hums a happy note, lips vibrating lightly just as your cunt reaches them, and you moan quietly. You donât settle all the way down, because as much as you were playing along with this whole death-by-pussy dream of his, you are slightly worried that you might actually suffocate him, if not because of your weight than because of your dire need, that you might get too lost in the aching desire thatâs building inside you, spurred on by the way heâs brushing the lower half of his face and down your folds, just breathing you in, teasing you with his touches but not giving you what you so desperately want.Â
ââGyu,â you whine, tilting your pelvis forward, to catch his tongue as he traces your inner thigh, leaving a trail of saliva behind. He blows a puff of air across the wetness, sending goosebumps running at the cooling sensation.Â
When you try to shift again, heâs quick to wrap his hands up around your hips, holding you still. Not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to let you know - heâs in charge now.Â
âStay still, pretty,â he murmurs, tenderly pressing a kiss into your skin. âDonât worry, Iâll keep my promise. Cross my heart, remember?âÂ
With that reminder, he pulls you down further onto his face. His tongue slides into you, nose bumping your clit, and you whimper, hands flailing at your sides, seeking something to cling to, finding nothing but the warm air around you. The pressure on the sensitive bud combining with the wet hot muscle plunging between your slick folds is overwhelming in the best way.
ââGyu, oh, thatâs so good!â Â
Mingyu nods his head vigorously, nudging his nose around, letting his tongue drag up and down your slit. It almost feels like heâs agreeing with you, backed up by the way he grunts brokenly, this deep rumble in his chest that gets strangled halfway through his throat.Â
Youâre not sure at what point you start thrust your hips. Mingyu helps you find the right pace, big hands guiding you forward and back, forward and back, until you feel the rhythm all the way from your ears to your toes.Â
As his mouth slides up to suckle on your clit, his left hand also snakes upwards, cupping your right breast, thumb rolling over your puckered nipple. You shudder, nerves sizzling like power lines, lit up by his every touch.
ââGyuâŠâ Mingyuâs mouth pulls another whine from you. You glance down, catching the furrow in his brow, the sweat dripping down his temples. âOh my god.âÂ
âMmmmphf,â Mingyu agrees, or so you assume, unable to understand anything he might be mumbling into you. A particularly sharp suck on your pulsating clit makes your back arch, and Mingyuâs hand falls from your chest, disappearing behind you.Â
The sudden rustling of fabric draws your attention. You glance over your shoulder, only to whimper when you catch sight of Mingyuâs hand stroking his erection, band of his sweatpants hastily shoved down, stiff cock so flushed it brings a matching heat to your neck.Â
If you were more limber, youâd reach for him, give him a helping hand, but you canât stay twisted around for long, not when Mingyuâs tongue makes you refocus on his mouth. Itâs too difficult to think about anything else right now but the way he keeps plunging inside you, using the thick muscle to fuck you shallowly.Â
You canât stop mewling like a cat in heat, rutting back and forth over Mingyuâs tongue. Even in your daze, it doesnât escape your attention that Mingyuâs absolutely pussy drunk at this point, depraved moans buzzing endlessly against your most sensitive spots because he refuses to detach his mouth from you long enough to let them escape. Every muffled note reverberates deep in your core, joins the tense chord thatâs building inside you to a crescendo.Â
ââGyu, please.âÂ
At the sound of your plea, Mingyu stops stroking himself, bringing his hand around to find your clit, middle finger drawing circles around and around and around.Â
When you double over, hands sinking into the plush bedding on either side of Mingyuâs head, he grunts, tipping his head to the side so he can speak. âYou okay?âÂ
âFuck, Mingyu, âm good,â you giggle, suddenly hit by a burst of glee, perhaps due to the lack of oxygen in your head, since all the blood in your body is concentrated in your clit right now. âIâm having an amazing night.âÂ
Mingyu hums again, sounding very pleased, and you meet his gaze, and suddenly you wish his phone was nearby, so you could snap a photo, because this look - hair mussed and clinging to his forehead, pupils blown, nose to chin coated in your glistening wetness - this is a look worth capturing.
âYeah, me too,â he says, chest heaving as he catches his breath, and the sincerity in his voice steals your own away. If you had any nerve, youâd confess something right now, something you werenât planning on telling him tonight or tomorrow or maybe ever. But you keep silent, only breathing a tiny exhale of surprise as he slides out from under you, and nudges you onto your back.
Mingyu folds you in half easily, because youâre giving no resistance, letting him shape you the way he desires, and then his mouth is on you again. Now that he's lying facedown between your legs, heâs able to get some much-desired friction without using his hands, grinding his neglected cock into the bed as he concentrates on you.Â
His tongue glides over your throbbing nub again, and then his right hand ghosts over your slit. You whimper a soft âPlease,â and thatâs all he needs to slide his finger inside. The intrusion has you squirming, urging him silently to go deeper, and to your relief, he obliges. But he also locks his other arm over your legs, holding them so you canât keep bucking your hips up.Â
âI said, stay still,â he mumbles, with no anger or heat behind it, just amusement, laced with a slight tinge of cockiness. He knows heâs frustrating you, judging by the curl of his lips as he plunges his finger in and out slowly, way too slowly, teasing you with what you need most. You try to press your hips down onto his hand, to make him glide faster, but he just leans into you slightly, big arm stopping your movements.Â
Your whine is beyond petulant. âDonât tease me!âÂ
âPretty, I promise you, when I tease you, youâll know.âÂ
And then he adds his middle finger, curling both, pressing on the most sensitive spot on your inner wall. Over and over, his fingers flutter, massaging until starlight bursts behind your eyelids.Â
âItâll be something like this.âÂ
He withdraws his hand.
âGyuuuuuu.â
If he was slightly cocky earlier, heâs fully arrogant now, face breaking into a wide grin while he laughs. âWow, so whiny. You do want me bad.âÂ
âI swear to god if you dohhhhHHH-â
You break off in a moan when he lowers his face again, loudly lapping at your wetness. Clever fingers alternate between scissoring and stroking, following the changes in your breathing, and you hope that heâs close to being satiated, because youâre teetering on the edge of your climax, only the slightest bit more stimulation necessary to push you over.Â
âMingyu. Mingyu, Iâm gonna cum.â You open your eyes, raising your head enough to look at him, to watch with a dropped jaw as he buries his face in your cunt, his own eyes closed in ecstasy, and oh, thatâs it - âOh god, Iâm gonna cum!âÂ
Your warning cry - though clearly appreciated by Mingyu, who groans in answering refrain, hips humping the bed furiously - is ultimately unnecessary, given how hard your walls suddenly clench around his fingers. He doesnât stop his ministrations, fingerfucking you through your orgasm as your lower half trembles beneath his heavy arm. He holds you in place as best he can, sweetly kissing your clit, while you wail and writhe, pressing your palm into your mouth to keep your cries from waking the rooms around you.Â
Eventually your tremors slow, turning into occasional twitches, before your body finally relaxes. Mingyu continues to lap at you, every pass of his tongue getting lighter and lighter, until he lifts his head. Heâs the perfect image of lust, eyes dark and desirous, and you claw at his shoulders, needing him close again.Â
âKiss me.âÂ
He wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing you over himself more as he rises up to meet you. His cock is hard between you, and you moan, knowing that you did that, that he got this turned on just from eating you out, and extend your fingers to wrap around him.
The unbidden sound he utters when you take his cock and slide it through your soaking folds, coating it in your wetness, is the filthiest sound youâve ever heard.
âCareful, pretty,â he pants, looking down at your hand. Under his close gaze, you circle the head of his cock before rubbing your thumb over and around the slit there. ââM close.âÂ
âWanna make you come, âGyu,â you tell him, and he hisses, hips bucking into your grip.Â
âFuck.â His long fingers cover yours, guiding you into a faster pace. âBut Iâm gonna make a mess.â
âDo it. Make a mess.â The need to make him completely fall apart takes possession of you, makes you say things youâve never said to anyone else. âCome all over me.âÂ
Mingyu whines, chin dropping to his chest. Heâs barely blinking as he stares at your entwined hands.Â
âPretty⊠donât say thatâŠ.â
âPlease, âGyu.â All shame has fled your body. âI want it.âÂ
No further encouragement is needed. Mingyu grunts a few times before heâs painting your stomach in so much white, in little drops and big splashes, doing exactly what you told him, eyes rolling back in his head as he does.
When his high abates, he sits back on his heels, gazing at the mess he created, all the sticky sweat and semen that covers your body. A delirious thought comes to you. Is the sight beautiful enough for him to want to take a picture?Â
âWow,â he murmurs after a moment, shaking his head. âYouâre even prettier when youâre covered in me.âÂ
His dead serious expression is enough to break the haze of lust hanging over you. You throw your arm over your face, too flustered to look at him. ââGyuuuuu!â
âChanged my mind, Iâm calling you âwhiny' from now on.â The bed shifts as Mingyu rises. He laughs all the way to and from the bathroom, laughs even harder when you glare at him, reaching for the towel he holds. He surprises you by nudging your hand away. âLet me.â Â
His touch is so gentle as he wipes away his mess, then your own. When youâre both clean enough, he lays on his side, draping his arm over you. âThink you can sleep now?âÂ
Oh, you can sleep. Youâre feeling satiated in a way you havenât for a long time, and now that the rush has worn off, you could knock right out. You should probably go back to your room, ride this calm wave right into sleep, not let yourself get too excited at the thought that this vacation might be the best one ever.
Instead, you grin, sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. âYeah. But I donât want to.âÂ
âOh?â Mingyuâs smile mirrors yours. âWhat do you wanna do instead?âÂ
âI might have some ideas.âÂ
He lets you pull him down for a kiss, humming eagerly.
âTell me what you want, pre-â
A sharp rap on the door startles you both.
âDude, donât you dare!â Minghao hisses through the wood. âWeâve been out here forever!âÂ
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© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.
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