These stories exist in a small sliver of the universe. 🔞 She/Her. AO3 Responding to comments as precededbychaos New Posts: Support & Commissions Networks / Master List / Fic Recs / Tag List / Ask
Warnings: Oral sex, swearing, legal alcohol consumption, safe sex
Song: Bad Idea, Right?
“It’s not like you tripped and fell into his bed, again,” Taehyung laughed, lips coolly sipping on his Americano. His eyes were alight with curiosity and humor, brows raised in a jovial expression. He couldn’t help himself, laughing at me for what amounted to yet another “one night stand” with my ex, Yoongi.
“I did too!” I argued.
“How?” Jungkook asked, tilting his head in curiosity. “I’m trying to imagine how you tripped into his bed. How did you even get there? Didn’t he move?”
“I – he kept blowing up my phone.” I shrugged, as if my explanation was believable.
“You were with us, and Hoseok, how the hell did we not notice?” Jungkook gaped.
“It’s because he’s a liar,” Hoseok said as he joined our group, coffee in hand. “He said he was going home to sleep.”
“But he never said where!” Taehyung laughed.
I could feel my cheeks flushing, making it blatantly obvious that I’m both embarrassed and dying to tell the details of my evening. I can’t ignore how deeply problematic it all was, sleeping with Yoongi once more. It was always a bad idea, and I know I should’ve probably not, but I couldn’t abstain, not four months ago, or two months ago, or even last night.
It had all played out like some 90s pop-punk music video: purple and blue lights strewn across the wall and dancing faces, the music a little too loud and the crowd was an over zealous group of people ecstatic Seokjin had returned from his military service. Red solo cups were everywhere, remnants of jello-shots accompanying them in the piles of trash that would inevitably have to be taken out. The host – a friend of Hoseok’s – was nowhere to be found, most likely in the bathroom taking a hit or making out with one of their partners. In the middle of it all, Jungkook was grinding against some curvaceous brunette with a wide grin and bright eyes. Taehyung was trying his hand at pool, and I was in the corner, nursing my vodka soda and staring at the night as it unfolded.
That was until my phone started to buzz, and I begrudgingly pulled it out of my pocket.
Yoongi: What are you doing?
Jimin: At a party
Yoongi: Whose?
Jimin: Seokjin’s post - military welcome back party
Yoongi: Oh – is it fun?
Jimin: It’s fine – why?
Yoongi: Just wondering what you’re up to
Jimin: Am I sensing some undertone?
Yoongi: That seems like a big word for a drunk you
Jimin: I’m not drunk
Yoongi: Then come over
Jimin: Why do you want me tonight?
Yoongi: I always want you
I stared at the conversation, knowing full I was going to wreck my plans for him. How could I not? It’s not like I was thrilled with our break up, or like I was patiently waiting for a time to bring up getting back together. We broke up because we were both treading water, drowning in our jobs and not having any time for our relationship. At least, that’s how I felt… Yoongi seems to have different feelings but it’s not like he’s ever going to share them with me. I should add that as a reason we broke up: deeply withholding. But alas, I will not.
And if I’m honest, Yoongi’s gorgeous, a sexy mysterious man with the most luxurious long black hair. And while there are other qualities I loved about Yoongi, like his sensitive stare and how gentle he was with my heart most of the time, I couldn’t help but admit in that moment, with a reckless abandon in my gaze, and Yoongi asking me to come over, that all I wanted was to lay on my back and let Yoongi fuck me. Which would inevitably lead to Yoongi ghosting me for another two months, until he knew I was out with my friends and that I would, without hesitating, blow it all for one more night with him.
So last night, I found my friends and told them I wasn’t feeling well and was going to head out. The biggest lie I’ve ever told, because I was feeling fine and had been looking forward to this party all week. Hoseok stared at me, concerned, his brows speaking volumes to his displeasure and disbelief that I was in fact going home. Jungkook and Taehyung were too busy and too drunk to think twice about it.
I hopped in my car, and despite knowing that I was abandoning my plans (drinking, dancing, possibly hooking up, and passing out somewhere in the house only to be woken up at 6AM by birds chirping and no memory of the night before or how he got there), I couldn’t stop. I drove cautiously to Yoongi’s new address, an apartment complex with an inner courtyard. Staring up at the floors, I scanned the second for him. Yoongi stood, sweats and baggie t-shirt on, gaze locking me in.
“Hey,” he said from the balcony, and that was all it took for me to take off at a brisk pace up the stairs. Whenever I saw Yoongi, my brain went fuzzy. No thoughts could penetrate the deep attraction I felt for him, the hazy blah blah blah of whatever lust-fog overcame me time and time again.
I hastily closed the gap between us, lips meeting Yoongi’s as I hungrily kissed him. My teeth pulled Yoongi’s bottom lip, hips rocking into his, hands tugging that luxurious mop of black hair.
“You can’t fuck me on the balcony,” Yoongi growled, a hint of red on his cheeks, a little embarrassed by this depravity.
“Fine, then show me inside.”
Yoongi’s last apartment, which he’d lived in for 7 years, was much smaller, a two-bedroom, windowless box he shared with Namjoon. He hadn’t minded the lack of natural light because he was always in the office, working long hours and keeping his nose to the grindstone. But when he’d been promoted, and transitioned to remote work in the pandemic, he needed more light and more space. Namjoon in turn was ready to move in with his lover, and thus Yoongi searched for the perfect place to call home. No apartment had met his needs until a few months ago when he saw this one. With two bedrooms, a view of the courtyard on one side and a view of the creek on the opposite, it was brimming with everything he wanted. As we stepped inside, and Yoongi locked the door, I took in the spacious living room and modern kitchen, still finding remnants of his last home here.
“Well, this is an upgrade.” I said.
“Thanks.”
“Still two bedrooms?”
“Yeah, bedroom and an office.”
“Look at you, leveling up,” I teased. I watched Yoongi draw the shades and caught sight of his gentle biceps and the quiet expanse of his back. As the room grew darker, I grew hungrier.
Knowing Yoongi would never give me a grand tour, I took it upon myself to wander the apartment, first checking out the office, before casually meandering to the bedroom.
“That took less time than I thought,” Yoongi said, leaning against the door frame. He pushed his hair out of his face and licked his lips, eyes raking over me.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect you to come here in jeans tighter than sin and a t-shirt that I promise you I can and will tear from your body,” Yoongi smirked. “You also made your way to the bedroom in record time.”
“Oh, should I go change? Slip into some sweatpants I guarantee I left here? Oh wait,” I dropped my gaze to Yoongi’s lower half, where the navy sweats were cinched and hanging from his hips.
Yoongi flushed. “I was going to mail these back.”
I laughed. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Fine. I was never going to give them back; I was going to keep them.”
“They were a birthday gift,” I lied.
“Don’t lie to me.” Yoongi replied.
“You kept them.”
“Yeah, and?”
I wanted to fight him, to get some sort of answer from him on what we were doing. Does he want me the same ways I want him? Does he cancel his plans in case I come through? Last night wasn’t our first song and dance, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
“Are you going to kiss me, or are we going to keep up this repartee until we exhaust the conversation and have to discuss our breakup and subsequent hook ups?” I said instead.
Yoongi licked his lips, eyes becoming hungry. “I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to strip you bare and have my way with you.”
“Then stop talking and do it already.”
~~~~~
Yoongi made slow work of stripping me. And why shouldn’t he? He needed to lock this memory in, because how much longer would I engage in this with him? Based on our tristes, and the pure fact that we have slept together at least 3 times in the 6 months since we’ve been broken up, I was beginning to feel like this was unsustainable. If we’re not a couple, is he just leading me on? He knows how deeply I loved him, but had anything in our situations changed enough to get us to where we needed to go? Or was I always going to fall prey to this bad idea, seeing him in the cover of night, sleeping in his sheets without regard to how shitty it made me feel? Or could I treat him as casually as he treated me? The depths of Yoongi’s feelings for me remained unknown, and I had to let them go if this night was going to continue.
It was easy to do, when Yoongi’s lips were suckling and kissing every inch of my bare skin. Or as Yoongi trailed his tongue along the lines of my tattoos, fingers gracing the taut skin of my abdomen. He teased me for as long as he could stand it, his cock hardening while he performed his ministrations across my nipples and down the light happy trail leading to my fully hard member. My hands were tangled in his lush hair, pulling and tugging as my want began to take over.
I always wanted Yoongi, wanted another night with him, wanted the feeling of his embrace and his member and his lips all over me. I craved it regularly, and nearly texted and asked for just this a few weeks ago, but refrained. Before Yoongi, a backslide was not something I did. Once I was done in a relationship, I was done and over it. But how could I ever be done with Yoongi?
“Yoongi,” I moaned, hips rising to press into Yoongi. “You’re being an asshole on purpose.”
“Yes,” Yoongi hummed. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
I groaned at the endearment, missing how it sounded coming from Yoongi’s baritone voice.
“I want all of you.”
The double meaning sat uncomfortably in the air. I hadn’t meant it to be so…. Romantic? So laced with passion and heat in a way that was not appropriate for this evening. I just meant it as…. Fuck it I don’t know what I meant. Not wanting to let the pall of my confession ruin the evening, Yoongi slipped his hands down my sides and gripped the front of my jeans. His lips lowered against the hollow of my ear as he whispered, “Then have me.”
Feeling emboldened by the directive, I eagerly flipped Yoongi over and slid the sweatpants from his hips. I bit his lips as Yoongi’s member sprung free, hard and thick and dripping. I laid on the bed, head between Yoongi’s thighs and kissed up them, teeth pulling the pale skin and reddening it.
As I teetered on the brink of taking Yoongi fully between his lips, I had a brief flash of clarity, knowing I either needed to dive right in, or stop completely. There was no going back from this, from my confession or sex with him, no acting like my feelings for him were not real. As I stared up at the glorious man in front of him, who was easily the hottest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of gazing up, I told himself the only thing that would lessen the potential backlash to this night: fuck it, it’s fine. Which I think should be deemed as the new YOLO. But more on that never.
I lightly traced the vein up Yoongi’s shaft, swirling my tongue over the tip and delighting in the precum that had beaded at the tip. While I’m not a cum-girlie, I have missed how Yoongi tasted, and it caused me to dip low, taking all of him at once. I began to pleasure Yoongi, unaware of my own hips rutting against the mattress, too lost in the dulcet tones of Yoongi’s arousal. He moaned and groaned, hands pulling at the sheets while I swirled my tongue, sucking him down. I could feel the strain of Yoongi wanting to come, to unleash himself into the depths of my throat, but was equally met with a firm restraint, holding him back from release.
“Stop,” Yoongi growled, the pain of ending this moment written across his brow.
“Why?” I asked, Cheshire smile on my lips.
“I need to fuck you.”
“Fuck my throat,” I offered.
“No,” Yoongi said.
“What if I want to fuck you?” I asked.
“Do you?”
“No,” I shrugged.
Yoongi rolled his eyes, the indecision of this libra driving him a little mad, like I always had.
“Great, doggy or missionary?”
“I want to look at you,” I answered. Yet another confession I hadn’t meant to share tonight.
“On your back then.”
I smiled with pure delight, hoping to lighten the mood. Afterall, I was getting almost everything I wanted.
Yoongi made quick work of sheathing himself with a condom before he parted my legs.
He hesitated. “Did you-
“Prepare for this?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi confirmed.
I nodded. “Yeah, didn’t know if I’d get strange dick tonight so I prepared.”
“I hate that,” Yoongi admitted.
“What?”
“Strange dick.”
I stared at him, the sweat already pressing Yoongi’s hair to his forehead. “Me having strange dick or the concept in general?”
“You.”
Yoongi realized the corner he’d backed himself into and stared at me pleadingly. Unlike my confessions, which were honest and true and slightly painful, it was clear in his discomfort that he had said it before he realized what the implications would be.
“Yoongi,” I said softly, my eyes widening with barefaced hope. We should’ve probably stopped, had a conversation, and returned to sex if we were truly emotionally ready for it. But Yoongi wiped his face of anything remotely confessional before I could say anything else.
“Fuck it, it’s fine.” Yoongi said, and he pressed his tip slowly into my entrance.
~~~~~
“You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” Hoseok asked, still nursing his rather large mug of espresso.
“Probably,” Taehyung said, the jovial light in his eyes replaced with concern.
“I am not.” I said.
“You are too,” Jungkook said.
“Can’t I evolve and change?” I asked them.
Hoseok stared at me, full judgement in his eyes. “You can, but you won’t.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Oh my god,” Taehyung said beside us, staring at his phone.
“What?” We all asked, turning to stare at him.
“Holy shit,” he said, eyes widening further.
“What?” Jungkook demanded.
“Did you know about what happened to Seokjin?”
“What do you mean what happened to Seokjin?” Hoseok asked.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jungkook demanded, his whine more endearing than alarming.
“Read this,” Taehyung put his phone between us, and as we collectively sucked in our breath, I read the headline:
Famed Actor Kim Seokjin Returns from Service to Tell-All from Former Bunk Mate: The Partying, Drugs and Men Revealed Below
Warnings: Oral sex, swearing, legal alcohol consumption, safe sex
Song: Bad Idea, Right?
“It’s not like you tripped and fell into his bed, again,” Taehyung laughed, lips coolly sipping on his Americano. His eyes were alight with curiosity and humor, brows raised in a jovial expression. He couldn’t help himself, laughing at me for what amounted to yet another “one night stand” with my ex, Yoongi.
“I did too!” I argued.
“How?” Jungkook asked, tilting his head in curiosity. “I’m trying to imagine how you tripped into his bed. How did you even get there? Didn’t he move?”
“I – he kept blowing up my phone.” I shrugged, as if my explanation was believable.
“You were with us, and Hoseok, how the hell did we not notice?” Jungkook gaped.
“It’s because he’s a liar,” Hoseok said as he joined our group, coffee in hand. “He said he was going home to sleep.”
“But he never said where!” Taehyung laughed.
I could feel my cheeks flushing, making it blatantly obvious that I’m both embarrassed and dying to tell the details of my evening. I can’t ignore how deeply problematic it all was, sleeping with Yoongi once more. It was always a bad idea, and I know I should’ve probably not, but I couldn’t abstain, not four months ago, or two months ago, or even last night.
It had all played out like some 90s pop-punk music video: purple and blue lights strewn across the wall and dancing faces, the music a little too loud and the crowd was an over zealous group of people ecstatic Seokjin had returned from his military service. Red solo cups were everywhere, remnants of jello-shots accompanying them in the piles of trash that would inevitably have to be taken out. The host – a friend of Hoseok’s – was nowhere to be found, most likely in the bathroom taking a hit or making out with one of their partners. In the middle of it all, Jungkook was grinding against some curvaceous brunette with a wide grin and bright eyes. Taehyung was trying his hand at pool, and I was in the corner, nursing my vodka soda and staring at the night as it unfolded.
That was until my phone started to buzz, and I begrudgingly pulled it out of my pocket.
Yoongi: What are you doing?
Jimin: At a party
Yoongi: Whose?
Jimin: Seokjin’s post - military welcome back party
Yoongi: Oh – is it fun?
Jimin: It’s fine – why?
Yoongi: Just wondering what you’re up to
Jimin: Am I sensing some undertone?
Yoongi: That seems like a big word for a drunk you
Jimin: I’m not drunk
Yoongi: Then come over
Jimin: Why do you want me tonight?
Yoongi: I always want you
I stared at the conversation, knowing full I was going to wreck my plans for him. How could I not? It’s not like I was thrilled with our break up, or like I was patiently waiting for a time to bring up getting back together. We broke up because we were both treading water, drowning in our jobs and not having any time for our relationship. At least, that’s how I felt… Yoongi seems to have different feelings but it’s not like he’s ever going to share them with me. I should add that as a reason we broke up: deeply withholding. But alas, I will not.
And if I’m honest, Yoongi’s gorgeous, a sexy mysterious man with the most luxurious long black hair. And while there are other qualities I loved about Yoongi, like his sensitive stare and how gentle he was with my heart most of the time, I couldn’t help but admit in that moment, with a reckless abandon in my gaze, and Yoongi asking me to come over, that all I wanted was to lay on my back and let Yoongi fuck me. Which would inevitably lead to Yoongi ghosting me for another two months, until he knew I was out with my friends and that I would, without hesitating, blow it all for one more night with him.
So last night, I found my friends and told them I wasn’t feeling well and was going to head out. The biggest lie I’ve ever told, because I was feeling fine and had been looking forward to this party all week. Hoseok stared at me, concerned, his brows speaking volumes to his displeasure and disbelief that I was in fact going home. Jungkook and Taehyung were too busy and too drunk to think twice about it.
I hopped in my car, and despite knowing that I was abandoning my plans (drinking, dancing, possibly hooking up, and passing out somewhere in the house only to be woken up at 6AM by birds chirping and no memory of the night before or how he got there), I couldn’t stop. I drove cautiously to Yoongi’s new address, an apartment complex with an inner courtyard. Staring up at the floors, I scanned the second for him. Yoongi stood, sweats and baggie t-shirt on, gaze locking me in.
“Hey,” he said from the balcony, and that was all it took for me to take off at a brisk pace up the stairs. Whenever I saw Yoongi, my brain went fuzzy. No thoughts could penetrate the deep attraction I felt for him, the hazy blah blah blah of whatever lust-fog overcame me time and time again.
I hastily closed the gap between us, lips meeting Yoongi’s as I hungrily kissed him. My teeth pulled Yoongi’s bottom lip, hips rocking into his, hands tugging that luxurious mop of black hair.
“You can’t fuck me on the balcony,” Yoongi growled, a hint of red on his cheeks, a little embarrassed by this depravity.
“Fine, then show me inside.”
Yoongi’s last apartment, which he’d lived in for 7 years, was much smaller, a two-bedroom, windowless box he shared with Namjoon. He hadn’t minded the lack of natural light because he was always in the office, working long hours and keeping his nose to the grindstone. But when he’d been promoted, and transitioned to remote work in the pandemic, he needed more light and more space. Namjoon in turn was ready to move in with his lover, and thus Yoongi searched for the perfect place to call home. No apartment had met his needs until a few months ago when he saw this one. With two bedrooms, a view of the courtyard on one side and a view of the creek on the opposite, it was brimming with everything he wanted. As we stepped inside, and Yoongi locked the door, I took in the spacious living room and modern kitchen, still finding remnants of his last home here.
“Well, this is an upgrade.” I said.
“Thanks.”
“Still two bedrooms?”
“Yeah, bedroom and an office.”
“Look at you, leveling up,” I teased. I watched Yoongi draw the shades and caught sight of his gentle biceps and the quiet expanse of his back. As the room grew darker, I grew hungrier.
Knowing Yoongi would never give me a grand tour, I took it upon myself to wander the apartment, first checking out the office, before casually meandering to the bedroom.
“That took less time than I thought,” Yoongi said, leaning against the door frame. He pushed his hair out of his face and licked his lips, eyes raking over me.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect you to come here in jeans tighter than sin and a t-shirt that I promise you I can and will tear from your body,” Yoongi smirked. “You also made your way to the bedroom in record time.”
“Oh, should I go change? Slip into some sweatpants I guarantee I left here? Oh wait,” I dropped my gaze to Yoongi’s lower half, where the navy sweats were cinched and hanging from his hips.
Yoongi flushed. “I was going to mail these back.”
I laughed. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Fine. I was never going to give them back; I was going to keep them.”
“They were a birthday gift,” I lied.
“Don’t lie to me.” Yoongi replied.
“You kept them.”
“Yeah, and?”
I wanted to fight him, to get some sort of answer from him on what we were doing. Does he want me the same ways I want him? Does he cancel his plans in case I come through? Last night wasn’t our first song and dance, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
“Are you going to kiss me, or are we going to keep up this repartee until we exhaust the conversation and have to discuss our breakup and subsequent hook ups?” I said instead.
Yoongi licked his lips, eyes becoming hungry. “I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to strip you bare and have my way with you.”
“Then stop talking and do it already.”
~~~~~
Yoongi made slow work of stripping me. And why shouldn’t he? He needed to lock this memory in, because how much longer would I engage in this with him? Based on our tristes, and the pure fact that we have slept together at least 3 times in the 6 months since we’ve been broken up, I was beginning to feel like this was unsustainable. If we’re not a couple, is he just leading me on? He knows how deeply I loved him, but had anything in our situations changed enough to get us to where we needed to go? Or was I always going to fall prey to this bad idea, seeing him in the cover of night, sleeping in his sheets without regard to how shitty it made me feel? Or could I treat him as casually as he treated me? The depths of Yoongi’s feelings for me remained unknown, and I had to let them go if this night was going to continue.
It was easy to do, when Yoongi’s lips were suckling and kissing every inch of my bare skin. Or as Yoongi trailed his tongue along the lines of my tattoos, fingers gracing the taut skin of my abdomen. He teased me for as long as he could stand it, his cock hardening while he performed his ministrations across my nipples and down the light happy trail leading to my fully hard member. My hands were tangled in his lush hair, pulling and tugging as my want began to take over.
I always wanted Yoongi, wanted another night with him, wanted the feeling of his embrace and his member and his lips all over me. I craved it regularly, and nearly texted and asked for just this a few weeks ago, but refrained. Before Yoongi, a backslide was not something I did. Once I was done in a relationship, I was done and over it. But how could I ever be done with Yoongi?
“Yoongi,” I moaned, hips rising to press into Yoongi. “You’re being an asshole on purpose.”
“Yes,” Yoongi hummed. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
I groaned at the endearment, missing how it sounded coming from Yoongi’s baritone voice.
“I want all of you.”
The double meaning sat uncomfortably in the air. I hadn’t meant it to be so…. Romantic? So laced with passion and heat in a way that was not appropriate for this evening. I just meant it as…. Fuck it I don’t know what I meant. Not wanting to let the pall of my confession ruin the evening, Yoongi slipped his hands down my sides and gripped the front of my jeans. His lips lowered against the hollow of my ear as he whispered, “Then have me.”
Feeling emboldened by the directive, I eagerly flipped Yoongi over and slid the sweatpants from his hips. I bit his lips as Yoongi’s member sprung free, hard and thick and dripping. I laid on the bed, head between Yoongi’s thighs and kissed up them, teeth pulling the pale skin and reddening it.
As I teetered on the brink of taking Yoongi fully between his lips, I had a brief flash of clarity, knowing I either needed to dive right in, or stop completely. There was no going back from this, from my confession or sex with him, no acting like my feelings for him were not real. As I stared up at the glorious man in front of him, who was easily the hottest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of gazing up, I told himself the only thing that would lessen the potential backlash to this night: fuck it, it’s fine. Which I think should be deemed as the new YOLO. But more on that never.
I lightly traced the vein up Yoongi’s shaft, swirling my tongue over the tip and delighting in the precum that had beaded at the tip. While I’m not a cum-girlie, I have missed how Yoongi tasted, and it caused me to dip low, taking all of him at once. I began to pleasure Yoongi, unaware of my own hips rutting against the mattress, too lost in the dulcet tones of Yoongi’s arousal. He moaned and groaned, hands pulling at the sheets while I swirled my tongue, sucking him down. I could feel the strain of Yoongi wanting to come, to unleash himself into the depths of my throat, but was equally met with a firm restraint, holding him back from release.
“Stop,” Yoongi growled, the pain of ending this moment written across his brow.
“Why?” I asked, Cheshire smile on my lips.
“I need to fuck you.”
“Fuck my throat,” I offered.
“No,” Yoongi said.
“What if I want to fuck you?” I asked.
“Do you?”
“No,” I shrugged.
Yoongi rolled his eyes, the indecision of this libra driving him a little mad, like I always had.
“Great, doggy or missionary?”
“I want to look at you,” I answered. Yet another confession I hadn’t meant to share tonight.
“On your back then.”
I smiled with pure delight, hoping to lighten the mood. Afterall, I was getting almost everything I wanted.
Yoongi made quick work of sheathing himself with a condom before he parted my legs.
He hesitated. “Did you-
“Prepare for this?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi confirmed.
I nodded. “Yeah, didn’t know if I’d get strange dick tonight so I prepared.”
“I hate that,” Yoongi admitted.
“What?”
“Strange dick.”
I stared at him, the sweat already pressing Yoongi’s hair to his forehead. “Me having strange dick or the concept in general?”
“You.”
Yoongi realized the corner he’d backed himself into and stared at me pleadingly. Unlike my confessions, which were honest and true and slightly painful, it was clear in his discomfort that he had said it before he realized what the implications would be.
“Yoongi,” I said softly, my eyes widening with barefaced hope. We should’ve probably stopped, had a conversation, and returned to sex if we were truly emotionally ready for it. But Yoongi wiped his face of anything remotely confessional before I could say anything else.
“Fuck it, it’s fine.” Yoongi said, and he pressed his tip slowly into my entrance.
~~~~~
“You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” Hoseok asked, still nursing his rather large mug of espresso.
“Probably,” Taehyung said, the jovial light in his eyes replaced with concern.
“I am not.” I said.
“You are too,” Jungkook said.
“Can’t I evolve and change?” I asked them.
Hoseok stared at me, full judgement in his eyes. “You can, but you won’t.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Oh my god,” Taehyung said beside us, staring at his phone.
“What?” We all asked, turning to stare at him.
“Holy shit,” he said, eyes widening further.
“What?” Jungkook demanded.
“Did you know about what happened to Seokjin?”
“What do you mean what happened to Seokjin?” Hoseok asked.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jungkook demanded, his whine more endearing than alarming.
“Read this,” Taehyung put his phone between us, and as we collectively sucked in our breath, I read the headline:
Famed Actor Kim Seokjin Returns from Service to Tell-All from Former Bunk Mate: The Partying, Drugs and Men Revealed Below
Warnings: Oral sex, swearing, legal alcohol consumption, safe sex
Song: Bad Idea, Right?
“It’s not like you tripped and fell into his bed, again,” Taehyung laughed, lips coolly sipping on his Americano. His eyes were alight with curiosity and humor, brows raised in a jovial expression. He couldn’t help himself, laughing at me for what amounted to yet another “one night stand” with my ex, Yoongi.
“I did too!” I argued.
“How?” Jungkook asked, tilting his head in curiosity. “I’m trying to imagine how you tripped into his bed. How did you even get there? Didn’t he move?”
“I – he kept blowing up my phone.” I shrugged, as if my explanation was believable.
“You were with us, and Hoseok, how the hell did we not notice?” Jungkook gaped.
“It’s because he’s a liar,” Hoseok said as he joined our group, coffee in hand. “He said he was going home to sleep.”
“But he never said where!” Taehyung laughed.
I could feel my cheeks flushing, making it blatantly obvious that I’m both embarrassed and dying to tell the details of my evening. I can’t ignore how deeply problematic it all was, sleeping with Yoongi once more. It was always a bad idea, and I know I should’ve probably not, but I couldn’t abstain, not four months ago, or two months ago, or even last night.
It had all played out like some 90s pop-punk music video: purple and blue lights strewn across the wall and dancing faces, the music a little too loud and the crowd was an over zealous group of people ecstatic Seokjin had returned from his military service. Red solo cups were everywhere, remnants of jello-shots accompanying them in the piles of trash that would inevitably have to be taken out. The host – a friend of Hoseok’s – was nowhere to be found, most likely in the bathroom taking a hit or making out with one of their partners. In the middle of it all, Jungkook was grinding against some curvaceous brunette with a wide grin and bright eyes. Taehyung was trying his hand at pool, and I was in the corner, nursing my vodka soda and staring at the night as it unfolded.
That was until my phone started to buzz, and I begrudgingly pulled it out of my pocket.
Yoongi: What are you doing?
Jimin: At a party
Yoongi: Whose?
Jimin: Seokjin’s post - military welcome back party
Yoongi: Oh – is it fun?
Jimin: It’s fine – why?
Yoongi: Just wondering what you’re up to
Jimin: Am I sensing some undertone?
Yoongi: That seems like a big word for a drunk you
Jimin: I’m not drunk
Yoongi: Then come over
Jimin: Why do you want me tonight?
Yoongi: I always want you
I stared at the conversation, knowing full I was going to wreck my plans for him. How could I not? It’s not like I was thrilled with our break up, or like I was patiently waiting for a time to bring up getting back together. We broke up because we were both treading water, drowning in our jobs and not having any time for our relationship. At least, that’s how I felt… Yoongi seems to have different feelings but it’s not like he’s ever going to share them with me. I should add that as a reason we broke up: deeply withholding. But alas, I will not.
And if I’m honest, Yoongi’s gorgeous, a sexy mysterious man with the most luxurious long black hair. And while there are other qualities I loved about Yoongi, like his sensitive stare and how gentle he was with my heart most of the time, I couldn’t help but admit in that moment, with a reckless abandon in my gaze, and Yoongi asking me to come over, that all I wanted was to lay on my back and let Yoongi fuck me. Which would inevitably lead to Yoongi ghosting me for another two months, until he knew I was out with my friends and that I would, without hesitating, blow it all for one more night with him.
So last night, I found my friends and told them I wasn’t feeling well and was going to head out. The biggest lie I’ve ever told, because I was feeling fine and had been looking forward to this party all week. Hoseok stared at me, concerned, his brows speaking volumes to his displeasure and disbelief that I was in fact going home. Jungkook and Taehyung were too busy and too drunk to think twice about it.
I hopped in my car, and despite knowing that I was abandoning my plans (drinking, dancing, possibly hooking up, and passing out somewhere in the house only to be woken up at 6AM by birds chirping and no memory of the night before or how he got there), I couldn’t stop. I drove cautiously to Yoongi’s new address, an apartment complex with an inner courtyard. Staring up at the floors, I scanned the second for him. Yoongi stood, sweats and baggie t-shirt on, gaze locking me in.
“Hey,” he said from the balcony, and that was all it took for me to take off at a brisk pace up the stairs. Whenever I saw Yoongi, my brain went fuzzy. No thoughts could penetrate the deep attraction I felt for him, the hazy blah blah blah of whatever lust-fog overcame me time and time again.
I hastily closed the gap between us, lips meeting Yoongi’s as I hungrily kissed him. My teeth pulled Yoongi’s bottom lip, hips rocking into his, hands tugging that luxurious mop of black hair.
“You can’t fuck me on the balcony,” Yoongi growled, a hint of red on his cheeks, a little embarrassed by this depravity.
“Fine, then show me inside.”
Yoongi’s last apartment, which he’d lived in for 7 years, was much smaller, a two-bedroom, windowless box he shared with Namjoon. He hadn’t minded the lack of natural light because he was always in the office, working long hours and keeping his nose to the grindstone. But when he’d been promoted, and transitioned to remote work in the pandemic, he needed more light and more space. Namjoon in turn was ready to move in with his lover, and thus Yoongi searched for the perfect place to call home. No apartment had met his needs until a few months ago when he saw this one. With two bedrooms, a view of the courtyard on one side and a view of the creek on the opposite, it was brimming with everything he wanted. As we stepped inside, and Yoongi locked the door, I took in the spacious living room and modern kitchen, still finding remnants of his last home here.
“Well, this is an upgrade.” I said.
“Thanks.”
“Still two bedrooms?”
“Yeah, bedroom and an office.”
“Look at you, leveling up,” I teased. I watched Yoongi draw the shades and caught sight of his gentle biceps and the quiet expanse of his back. As the room grew darker, I grew hungrier.
Knowing Yoongi would never give me a grand tour, I took it upon myself to wander the apartment, first checking out the office, before casually meandering to the bedroom.
“That took less time than I thought,” Yoongi said, leaning against the door frame. He pushed his hair out of his face and licked his lips, eyes raking over me.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect you to come here in jeans tighter than sin and a t-shirt that I promise you I can and will tear from your body,” Yoongi smirked. “You also made your way to the bedroom in record time.”
“Oh, should I go change? Slip into some sweatpants I guarantee I left here? Oh wait,” I dropped my gaze to Yoongi’s lower half, where the navy sweats were cinched and hanging from his hips.
Yoongi flushed. “I was going to mail these back.”
I laughed. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Fine. I was never going to give them back; I was going to keep them.”
“They were a birthday gift,” I lied.
“Don’t lie to me.” Yoongi replied.
“You kept them.”
“Yeah, and?”
I wanted to fight him, to get some sort of answer from him on what we were doing. Does he want me the same ways I want him? Does he cancel his plans in case I come through? Last night wasn’t our first song and dance, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
“Are you going to kiss me, or are we going to keep up this repartee until we exhaust the conversation and have to discuss our breakup and subsequent hook ups?” I said instead.
Yoongi licked his lips, eyes becoming hungry. “I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to strip you bare and have my way with you.”
“Then stop talking and do it already.”
~~~~~
Yoongi made slow work of stripping me. And why shouldn’t he? He needed to lock this memory in, because how much longer would I engage in this with him? Based on our tristes, and the pure fact that we have slept together at least 3 times in the 6 months since we’ve been broken up, I was beginning to feel like this was unsustainable. If we’re not a couple, is he just leading me on? He knows how deeply I loved him, but had anything in our situations changed enough to get us to where we needed to go? Or was I always going to fall prey to this bad idea, seeing him in the cover of night, sleeping in his sheets without regard to how shitty it made me feel? Or could I treat him as casually as he treated me? The depths of Yoongi’s feelings for me remained unknown, and I had to let them go if this night was going to continue.
It was easy to do, when Yoongi’s lips were suckling and kissing every inch of my bare skin. Or as Yoongi trailed his tongue along the lines of my tattoos, fingers gracing the taut skin of my abdomen. He teased me for as long as he could stand it, his cock hardening while he performed his ministrations across my nipples and down the light happy trail leading to my fully hard member. My hands were tangled in his lush hair, pulling and tugging as my want began to take over.
I always wanted Yoongi, wanted another night with him, wanted the feeling of his embrace and his member and his lips all over me. I craved it regularly, and nearly texted and asked for just this a few weeks ago, but refrained. Before Yoongi, a backslide was not something I did. Once I was done in a relationship, I was done and over it. But how could I ever be done with Yoongi?
“Yoongi,” I moaned, hips rising to press into Yoongi. “You’re being an asshole on purpose.”
“Yes,” Yoongi hummed. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
I groaned at the endearment, missing how it sounded coming from Yoongi’s baritone voice.
“I want all of you.”
The double meaning sat uncomfortably in the air. I hadn’t meant it to be so…. Romantic? So laced with passion and heat in a way that was not appropriate for this evening. I just meant it as…. Fuck it I don’t know what I meant. Not wanting to let the pall of my confession ruin the evening, Yoongi slipped his hands down my sides and gripped the front of my jeans. His lips lowered against the hollow of my ear as he whispered, “Then have me.”
Feeling emboldened by the directive, I eagerly flipped Yoongi over and slid the sweatpants from his hips. I bit his lips as Yoongi’s member sprung free, hard and thick and dripping. I laid on the bed, head between Yoongi’s thighs and kissed up them, teeth pulling the pale skin and reddening it.
As I teetered on the brink of taking Yoongi fully between his lips, I had a brief flash of clarity, knowing I either needed to dive right in, or stop completely. There was no going back from this, from my confession or sex with him, no acting like my feelings for him were not real. As I stared up at the glorious man in front of him, who was easily the hottest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of gazing up, I told himself the only thing that would lessen the potential backlash to this night: fuck it, it’s fine. Which I think should be deemed as the new YOLO. But more on that never.
I lightly traced the vein up Yoongi’s shaft, swirling my tongue over the tip and delighting in the precum that had beaded at the tip. While I’m not a cum-girlie, I have missed how Yoongi tasted, and it caused me to dip low, taking all of him at once. I began to pleasure Yoongi, unaware of my own hips rutting against the mattress, too lost in the dulcet tones of Yoongi’s arousal. He moaned and groaned, hands pulling at the sheets while I swirled my tongue, sucking him down. I could feel the strain of Yoongi wanting to come, to unleash himself into the depths of my throat, but was equally met with a firm restraint, holding him back from release.
“Stop,” Yoongi growled, the pain of ending this moment written across his brow.
“Why?” I asked, Cheshire smile on my lips.
“I need to fuck you.”
“Fuck my throat,” I offered.
“No,” Yoongi said.
“What if I want to fuck you?” I asked.
“Do you?”
“No,” I shrugged.
Yoongi rolled his eyes, the indecision of this libra driving him a little mad, like I always had.
“Great, doggy or missionary?”
“I want to look at you,” I answered. Yet another confession I hadn’t meant to share tonight.
“On your back then.”
I smiled with pure delight, hoping to lighten the mood. Afterall, I was getting almost everything I wanted.
Yoongi made quick work of sheathing himself with a condom before he parted my legs.
He hesitated. “Did you-
“Prepare for this?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi confirmed.
I nodded. “Yeah, didn’t know if I’d get strange dick tonight so I prepared.”
“I hate that,” Yoongi admitted.
“What?”
“Strange dick.”
I stared at him, the sweat already pressing Yoongi’s hair to his forehead. “Me having strange dick or the concept in general?”
“You.”
Yoongi realized the corner he’d backed himself into and stared at me pleadingly. Unlike my confessions, which were honest and true and slightly painful, it was clear in his discomfort that he had said it before he realized what the implications would be.
“Yoongi,” I said softly, my eyes widening with barefaced hope. We should’ve probably stopped, had a conversation, and returned to sex if we were truly emotionally ready for it. But Yoongi wiped his face of anything remotely confessional before I could say anything else.
“Fuck it, it’s fine.” Yoongi said, and he pressed his tip slowly into my entrance.
~~~~~
“You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” Hoseok asked, still nursing his rather large mug of espresso.
“Probably,” Taehyung said, the jovial light in his eyes replaced with concern.
“I am not.” I said.
“You are too,” Jungkook said.
“Can’t I evolve and change?” I asked them.
Hoseok stared at me, full judgement in his eyes. “You can, but you won’t.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Oh my god,” Taehyung said beside us, staring at his phone.
“What?” We all asked, turning to stare at him.
“Holy shit,” he said, eyes widening further.
“What?” Jungkook demanded.
“Did you know about what happened to Seokjin?”
“What do you mean what happened to Seokjin?” Hoseok asked.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jungkook demanded, his whine more endearing than alarming.
“Read this,” Taehyung put his phone between us, and as we collectively sucked in our breath, I read the headline:
Famed Actor Kim Seokjin Returns from Service to Tell-All from Former Bunk Mate: The Partying, Drugs and Men Revealed Below
The moment when you forgot that you wrote something and you read it again and it's actually so good. Like, wow, that person who wrote this is a good writer.
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
dededos
