· ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations
pls reblog if you like any of my recs and don´t forget to support authors!❤️
[ here´s a bunch of throwback fics that i hold dearly in my heart ]
LEMME INTRODUCE YOU TO SOME 2023 ART PIECES BY ( @wildestdreamsblog ). If you´re into angsty, manipulative, possessive, obsessive, soft yan!bts as much as i was you´re gonna love these, trust. 1) finding out they cheated on you - hyung line ver. / maknae line ver. 2) trying to move on - maknae line ver. / hyung line ver.
bewitched - ( @borathae) smut, fluff, vamp!yoongi, witch!reader, you put a spell on him so he cant cum till you say so, ON MY SOUL I FELT THIS ALL THE WAY TO MY TOES, the smut is gewwwd and the fluff is amazing ughhh, loved it
i´ll float away - ( @ppersonna ) angst, hea. yoongi idol!au. LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING RIGHT NOW,, THIS IS THEE BEST YOONGI ANGST IN THIS WHOLE SITE, POINT BLANK PERIOD, TRUST. a wHOLE 2020 banger. It has STRONG topics so read the warnings
belly bulge -( @euphoricfilter ) bf!joon ,,,,,do you even have to ask what this is about?, ITS A LOT GOING ONNNNNN, talking about big beeffy thick wide strong bear built namjoon and his big ol dicc, who wouldnt like this??, he jerks himself off throught your stomach...
forg_tful - ( @joon4eva ) namjoon. established relationship, angstt, fluff, this one makes me cry every tIMEEEE, he forgets something important for the 2394823948th time so reader thinks he just doesn´t care, he doesn´t like being away from her :((((, but he owns it up bc he is a grown mature emotionally stable man, we love it
split - ( @sombreboy ) smut, snake hybrid!jimin, he has a fORKED tongue and TWO cocks!!!! :D NOW THIS, i remember reading it a long time ago and thinking it was the best hybrid!jimin fic out there, i´ve read about him being a cat, a dog, etc but a SNAKE??? now that´s new, loved it
love language - ( @rmnamjoons ) soulmate au, mute!reader, non idol!joon. THE FLUFF IS BEAUTIFULLLLLLL, i love joons pov before meeting her, and the day the meet???? i died, it was so cute
trust me - ( @bbangtan-ddaeng ) ANGSTTTT YESSS, and also? NO HEA. idol!namjoon . he thinks you cheated on him. ITSS GEWWWDD pls read pt. 2 as well. matter fact, just go ahead and read EEEEVERY piece of work of her´s, it´s an angst fest.
faded love - ( @jamaisjoons ) angst, fluff, cheating husband!jimin, ceo!jimin. "he doesn’t need to say it. because you can feel your husband, park jimin, falling out of love with you." ANGST FESSSTTTT, another one for my personal collection, i love this sm
let love be enough - ( @jingabitch ) ex-husband!tae, cheater!tae, divorce au, you meet again after 20 years on your daughter´s wedding. YUPPP this is an angst fest right here, probably my favorite tae angsty fic out there, i LOVE IT
the curse of a crush - ( @army-author ) fluff, supernatural au, down bad witch!taehyung, witch!reader, he´s so in love with you he thinks you´ve cursed him with a love potion, SO CUTEEE
night after night - ( @brown-bi-beautiful ) smut, angst, crack, fluff, semi-retired fuckboy jk, red flag jk, stalker jk, break up au, lovers to exes to lovers, he fucked around and found out so he is FREAKING ouT, also he is beggING okk.. we love that, he also has a Harley bc he is bad boy™, they make up anyways bc he is pussy whipped.. or in love, whatevs you wanna call it
you good?? - ( @mono-moonchilds ) drabble, smut, "what if you gave jungkook head?" is righT bc i´ve been thinking about it for a min!!! he is mean ok yall know he is a brat buT, the head is too good to do all that, the man was shaKINg for godssakeee, so good he had to answer with a thumbs up bc reader drained him fr, left him so brain dead he couldn´t even speak
crave you - ( @7deadlysinsfics ) idol!jk, crack, smut, fluff, hispanic choreographer reader, texting, taejikook, jk is HORNY but he´s a softie too, he´s got a big big fat crush, strenght kink bc we all know he can throw her around like a ragdoll
Summary: Jungkook is your husband who believes he lost his chance with your sister because of you. Now you're married to him, and revenge was the only reason he said yes to this marriage.
Warnings: jungkook is a walking red flag and oc is a dumb girl in love so read at your own risk? again, neither of their brains is fully developed here. toxic relationship, angst.
Word count: 11k
check out my: masterlist
a/n: nine days in the making and here we are.... anon, i hope i did your request justice!! there will be a part two because yall i genuinely don't even know where to begin with this man’s redemption arc.... at this point, i fear the redemption arc alone is going to take over 10k words (lmk if you have any ideas, lend me ur creativity bbgs). all I can say is: please do not date men who do not kiss the ground you walk on!!!
taglist: @jiwikiwi @scriptved
You remembered the first time you saw him.
Your sister, Suji, was two years older than you and ever since you were ten, she brought her friends home nearly every weekend.
There were four of them: Jimin, Yejin, Taehyung, and Jungkook.
They were inseparable and exactly the kind of friendship you only ever read about in books or watched in movies. On weekends, your house was always filled with their voices and you never minded it, especially since two-years was not much of an age gap, hence you were included in almost everything they did.
That only changed after they graduated from high school and scattered across the country. Even then, the distance never truly separated them. They would stay in touch, called regularly, and planned a holiday together at least once a year.
As a child, being included in their group made you feel important. There was something exciting and cool about being ten and spending most of your time with older kids.
It did not take long for you to realise that Suji was the one holding them all together and her friends always orbited around her without noticing they were doing it. That never surprised you because Suji has always been the main character wherever she went, both at home and everywhere else.
You never resented her for it because she was the kindest sister you could have asked for. She never made you feel smaller than her, she invited you to parties you were too young to attend, defended you when Taehyung teased you about your missing front tooth, and let you borrow her clothes without ever complaining about it.
Her friends were kind to you too.
Jimin and Yejin were the first ones you met. You remembered them sitting beside you at the kitchen table, patiently helping you with your maths homework. Now they were married, with a daughter who was as cheerful as the two of them.
Then there was Taehyung, around whom fourteen-year-old Suji started acting differently. She became shy in his presence, more careful with her words, and she would glance at him now and then whenever she thought no one was looking. They were married now and, as far as you could tell, still having the time of their lives together.
And then there was Jungkook.
You, Suji, and the rest of her friends had been playing hide-and-seek throughout the house one Saturday afternoon, and Jungkook was the seeker. You hid behind the living-room curtain, holding your breath as you listened for his footsteps.
You were certain you would be caught first, because you barely had time to find a proper hiding place.
And you were right, Jungkook did find you first.
He pulled the curtain aside just enough to see you. But instead of dragging you out and gloating the way Taehyung or Jimin would have done, he merely smiled at you and ruffled your hair.
Then he let the curtain fall back into place and walked away to find the others.
You stayed behind the curtain for another full minute, your heart beating so loud that you considered asking your mom to call an ambulance.
At ten years old, what was that if not a knight in shining armour?
You have been in love with him ever since.
By fourteen, you assumed the feeling would have disappeared. It was supposed to be puppy love; something harmless and embarrassing that you would laugh about with Suji over wine in ten years time. But it did not just disappear like you thought it would.
In high school, Jungkook became one of the popular boys. His face made insecure boys resent him and hopeful girls imagine they had a chance with him. Yet he never seemed interested in any of it, he only cared about being around Suji and the rest of their friends, and he never seemed to mind having you around either.
Well, mostly because you were his best friend’s little sister.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
At fifteen, you finally told Suji about your little embarrassing crush.
She was not surprised when you confessed that you had a crush on one of her best friends. Jungkook was handsome too so it wasn’t really weird. You learned much later that she had known for years, but that night, she only laughed softly and said, “I’ll help you get together with him when you’re a little older, okay?”
Not long after you told her, Jungkook stopped coming to the house.
The rest of the group continued gathering in your living room every weekend as loud and inseparable as ever, but his usual seat was always empty. You still caught glimpses of him in the school hallways. He never said hello, though that wasn’t really strange since he rarely greeted you at school even before he stopped coming around your house.
Then you noticed that Jungkook started spending time with a different crowd. And it happened around the same time Suji and Taehyung finally started dating. These two quickly became the school’s “it” couple, with every photograph of them posted online always accompanied with the same ‘#CoupleGoals’.
But them getting together never surprised you.
What surprised you was that the moment Suji and Taehyung got together, Jungkook noticed you again, but not the way you wanted him to. The time your paths crossed again, he spat onto the ground in front of you and looked at you as if the sight of you disgusted him.
You didn’t understand it. You’ve adored him for five years by then, and you had no idea what you did to deserve that kind of hatred.
When you asked Jimin whether you somehow offended Jungkook, he only sighed and told you not to take it personally. And that Jungkook started spending time with wealthy, arrogant boys, and he has changed.
To you, it made sense for him to hang out with a different crowd, especially since he came from a different tax bracket than you did.
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You were twenty-two when you received the phone call from your mother.
By this time, Jungkook was somewhere not in your life; he was just a name that came up at your school reunion and nowhere else. You’ve heard things about him; that he helped his father ran their family’s company, then him eventually becoming the CEO.
Your mother has been a single mother almost your whole life, and she has never once, in twenty-two years, called you sounding like she was preparing for you to leave her life.
"Can you come home?" she asked, "tonight, if you can. I need to talk to you about something and I don't want to do it over the phone."
You asked if everything was okay, and she said she'll explain when you were there, which is somehow worse than any answer she could have given you, and you spent the whole drive over with your stomach tightened in knots.
Your mom was waiting at the kitchen table when you arrived, two cups of tea already going cold in front of her like she made them an hour ago and forgot they existed the moment she poured them.
“Mom?” you asked as you sat down in front of her, “this is reminding me of horror movies,” you chuckled.
"I need to tell you something," she said, "and I need you to not hate me."
You immediately became silent and didn’t even dare to say anything. So you let her say whatever she wanted to say in her own time, because she seemed as if she was going to burst into tears.
"I owe some family a great deal of money," she said, finally opening up after what felt like fifteen minutes, "forty million dollars. It's to the Jeon's family. Jeon Jungkook, do you remember him? From when you were kids, Suji's friend.."
You couldn’t help the gasp that followed, "How?" was all you could manage to respond with.
forty million dollars was more money than you have ever seen in your life. Your mother was an investment banker at a small firm, so your family has never been poor, but you were nowhere near forty-million-dollars rich. But then, compared to the Jeon family, you might as well have been poor.
“I’d been at the firm for three years by then,” your mother said, her eyes fixed on the table, “I was young enough to be desperate for a win. I wanted to prove myself, especially in rooms full of men who called me sweetheart and honey during meetings and constantly tease me.”
She paused, playing with her fingers in her lap, “One of my colleagues brought me a deal. It was a startup that was supposedly going to be bought out within eighteen months. It was the kind of tip that could make someone’s career if it worked.”
“And you believed him?” you asked.
“I believed in the startup,” she corrected, “enough to pass it on to a client I’d been trying to win over for months. Jungkook’s parents. I told them it was a sure thing,” your mother said, her voice slightly breaking on the word sure, “I wasn’t lying to them. I believed it too.”
She looked down at her hands, “That’s the part that still keeps me awake. I didn’t do it because I wanted to hurt anyone. I did it because I wanted them to trust me. I wanted it so badly.”
“And it failed?”
“Not at first. For a few months, everything looked promising, then the company’s lead investor pulled out after a fraud investigation. None of us saw it coming and the entire company collapsed within six weeks.”
She paused before continuing, “Jungkook’s parents lost almost everything they invested. And because I was the one who brought them the deal and told them their money would be safe, they came to me. forty million dollars was what they believed they would have earned if the deal had succeeded, added to everything they had lost.”
“They expected you to pay all of that?” you asked in disbelief.
“They said I could take as long as I needed and I could repay it at whatever pace I could manage, and they would never tell anyone what happened,” she said, before finally looking up at you.
"How much have you paid so far?" you ask, though some part of you already knows the answer will hurt you.
"Five hundred thousand. A little more, actually, slowly but steadily I was paying it off, but it has been years since the deal, ____," she said, her eyes filled with tears.
You have never seen her crying this much, not even at your father's funeral where she held back her tears for her children, "I didn't want you or Suji to know. It’s a debt I don’t want the two of you to carry.”
"And the rest of it?" you finally asked, "you wouldn't have called me here just to tell me about the debt or the amount. There's something else, right?"
Your mother's hands tighten in her lap, "They want to erase the whole forty million debt, if.. "
"If what?" you asked nervously.
"If you marry their son, Jungkook."
You laughed at your mother, because what she just said sounded like an opening line of a story or a cringe fan fiction you read on Wattpad years ago.
Then you looked at her face and understood she wasn’t trying to fool you at all.
“Mom,” you quietly said, your voice shaking out of anger, confusion, and sadness, you couldn’t really tell.
“I barely know him anymore. We haven’t spoken in years, and he’s not the boy from my childhood anymore. I don’t even know who he is now.”
“I know,” she said, and she sounded as if she dreaded saying the idea aloud, for even thinking of asking you to do this, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for even considering asking this of you,” her voice trembled, “I’ve thought it over in my head for weeks, and I feel so bad as a mother, it feels as if I’m selling you to fix my own mistake.”
She drew in a breath, “It’s fine, you don’t need to do this. I’ll find another way. I will not make you responsible for a debt that belongs to me.”
“Jungkook is a good-looking man, Mom. He’s rich too and he could have anyone he wanted,” you hesitated before asking further, “so why would he agree to this? Why me?”
“He’s refused everyone his parents have introduced him to,” she said quietly, “for years, apparently he has refused half a dozen women. From what I understand, he turned every one of them down.”
She paused before adding, “But this time, his parents told me it was his idea,” her eyes lifted to yours, “he chose you.”
You thought it was bullshit, why would Jungkook choose you out of all people? It was clear as days that his eyes were never on yours, and all of the sudden he has chosen you?
Jungkook was an old friend you spent years hoping never to see again. What could someone like him possibly want from you now?
You couldn’t help but wonder if being chosen meant being wanted by Jungkook, or if you were simply the easiest answer to him; something he agreed to because saying yes was easier than arguing with his parents over a marriage he did not care enough to refuse.
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You said yes.
Because when you did the math more than once that week, lying awake in the dark, trying to picture your mom at seventy still working even during the weekends to pay down a debt that is almost impossible to pay off.
You just couldn’t make yourself accept a future that looks like that when you have the power to end it with a single word.
You said yes because you have spent your whole life being the person who helps everyone around you. The little sister who never made anyone feel lacking in anything, the daughter who learned early not to add her own weight to a household already struggling with just one income. You were always the person who takes care of others when they are sick and never asks anyone to do the same for you.
It is the only thing you have ever known what to do. And some part of you just does not know how to look at someone who needs you and say no, even when the person who needs you most is yourself.
Then there is the other reason.
That small part of you that is still ten years old, still standing behind a curtain while Jungkook smiled at you, has never fully stopped hoping there might be a version of this where Jungkook looks at you without hatred.
You know how ridiculous that sounded.
You know it is not the kind of reason anyone sensible enough should agree to a marriage. But you were ten when you fell for him, and somehow, despite everything, a part of that girl never really went away. When your mother said Jungkook had chosen you, that little girl came rushing back.
You understand, even as you agreed to the marriage, that this is a stupid reason to ruin your life. Yet you said yes anyway, because you have never been as rational as you would like to believe when it comes to Jungkook.
Because some part of you would rather walk willingly into the fire than spend the rest of your life wondering what might have happened if you had turned away.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
Two weeks later you were standing in a hotel lobby, your hands were trembling despite the summer heat outside, because his mother suggested or insisted, really, that the two of you meet before anything was finalized.
You spent forty minutes deciding what to wear and hated yourself for even caring about it.
Jungkook was already there when you arrived, sitting at a corner table with his jacket off and his sleeves pushed up, and his phone in his hand. He didn't stand up when you sat down.
Up close, he still looked familiar, only older now. He had tattoos all over his right arm and there was very little left of the boy who used to smile at you like the two of you shared a secret.
"You're late," Jungkook said, not even looking up to look at you.
"By only four minutes," you answered.
"Four minutes I didn't have."
"Then you should've told your mother not to schedule this in the first place," you scoffed.
That finally made him look up from his phone. Something changed across his face, you could tell that Jungkook was surprised that you answered back at him instead of backing down like he seemed to expect you to do.
You remembered, vaguely, a boy who was gentle to you. There was very little of him left in the man frowning at you now, and you hated that some part of you still mourned the loss of someone you barely knew anymore.
"You don't remember me, do you?" Jungkook asked.
"Oh, I remember you," you said, “though you used to be nicer."
"You used to be shorter," Jungkook said, rolling his eyes at you.
You ordered coffee neither of you touched and spent the next forty minutes arguing about the wedding neither of you wanted.
And some small, foolish part of you enjoyed that meeting because arguing with Jungkook meant he was looking at you. It meant you mattered enough to annoy him.
It meant, for those forty minutes at least, you managed to take up space in his mind.
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You married him six weeks later, on a bright Saturday in August, in a dress that cost more than your mother's monthly salary, in a ballroom filled with flowers your mother-in-law chose without consulting you.
The man standing in front of you was not the boy who once found you behind a curtain during a hide-and-seek game.
Jungkook shook your hand instead of kissing you when the officiant told him he could. He even came up with a charming joke about how shaking hands was an inside joke between the two of you, which made the room laugh.
When you told Suji and Taehyung that you were marrying Jungkook, neither of them believed you. It happened too quickly, you have never told them you were in a relationship, there was no engagement or anything that might have explained how the two of you have gone from never speaking to planning a wedding.
You could not tell them about the debt. You didn’t want them to be angry with your mom, so you insisted it was a long time coming. You told them you have always loved Jungkook and that, somewhere along the way, he secretly started to feel the same way.
Suji and Taehyung did not believe that either, of course they didn’t, they knew Jungkook has always liked Suji. They just didn’t want you to know it, that was what they have been protecting you from since you were ten. So, at the wedding, neither of them cried. Even Jimin and Yejin didn’t bother to congratulate you either.
Suji only held your hands for a moment, while Taehyung stood beside her with an expression you couldn’t bring yourself to read.
“We’re here for you,” Suji said.
“Anytime,” Taehyung added.
You couldn’t tell whether that was a warning, but you knew then that they knew something you didn’t.
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Jungkook’s hand on your waist during the first dance felt cold, because he was touching you only because the event expected him to. He never pulled you closer or whispered something sweet in between of the dance. His eyes stayed fixed somewhere over your shoulder, while you moved together with the applause of people who believed they were watching two people in love.
Later, in a hotel suite far too large for two people who had nothing to say to each other, you and Jungkook sat at opposite ends of the couch, still dressed in your wedding clothes.
Jungkook's tie had been pulled loose and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. Your veil was folded beside you and the hand bouquet of flowers were placed right between the two of you.
“Just so we’re clear, we’re only married on paper,” Jungkook eventually said.
Jungkook didn’t think he was being cruel to you. If anything, he believed he was doing you a kindness by being honest from the beginning.
“I won’t cheat on you. I can’t afford to have my company being caught up in a scandal,” he continued, “but I’m not going to treat you like a wife. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just my roommate.”
“Okay,” you said.
It was the only word you could utter at that moment.
You did not know how to explain how his words made you feel. You only knew that you already decided Jungkook would never see you cry over something he clearly would never think was worth grieving.
You changed out of your wedding dress in the bathroom because it felt strange to do it in front of a husband who barely looked at you since the ceremony.
That night, you slept on opposite sides of the same bed, with a pillow placed between the two of you like a line neither of you was meant to cross.
By the time you woke up the next morning, Jungkook was already gone.
At the very least, Jungkook had the decency to leave a note on the counter with his flight time. Much later in the marriage, you would realize it was the first of countless mornings that started the same way:
waking up to find out that Jungkook already left.
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first year of marriage
Jungkook moved into the guest room during the very first day you started living together. That first night, you lay awake in the enormous bed you were apparently meant to have all to yourself, listening to the faint sounds of Jungkook moving around the apartment.
Then during the first year of your marriage, you found yourself keeping track of everything Jungkook never did.
You stupidly believed that if you counted the nights he came home, the meals you shared, and the times he looked at you like he cared about you, then you might be able to prove that things were getting better. And when they did not, the numbers became proof that you had not imagined how lonely the marriage made you feel.
You hated that you cared enough to count it all and you hated yourself even more for still waiting for Jungkook to change.
Pathetic did not feel like a strong enough word for measuring your marriage by how little your husband gave you, only to find yourself disappointed each time the answer was almost nothing.
You counted the nights he came home before midnight: 11 out of 365 days.
You counted the meals you ate at the same table: 4, and two of those were during the week his grandmother visited. To Jungkook, keeping up appearances to his family mattered more than whatever existed between the two of you.
You counted the number of times he asked how your day was: 0.
Well, what did you really expect?
This was an arranged marriage, and Jungkook chose you because he knew you would be easy to please without ever having to worry that you might leave the marriage. At some point, you realized maybe Jungkook had always known how you felt about him. Perhaps that was why he had chosen you as his wife in the first place.
Yet what some stupid part of you wanted was to know undoubtedly that he cared for you, even just a little.
Whenever you were out with friends and thought of him, you would bring something home and leave it on the counter with a note telling him it was his to eat or drink.
By morning, the food was always still sitting there on the counter, clearly untouched.
Jungkook never ate any of the food you brought home for him, not once that entire year. So eventually, you stopped being surprised and then, sometime near the end of the first year, you stopped bringing anything home at all.
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Family holidays were the worst because Jungkook never bothered to show up. So you had to act and lie to everyone around you that the marriage was fine and Jungkook is just one busy businessman.
“He’s on a business trip,” you told your mother at Chuseok, “the company’s expanding into three new markets this quarter. He barely has time to sleep.”
“He’s swamped with work,” you told Suji at your father’s memorial dinner. That was the one day you truly wanted him there. Just once, you wanted your fake husband to stand beside you at your father’s grave, so you didn't have to lie when you were already drowning in grief and sadness. “Jungkook sends his condolences,” you added.
He did not.
You made it up, the way you always did. He did not come because he did not want to, because you were not worth giving up even a single hour of his life for. You could not say any of that to the people who loved you, not yet and maybe not ever.
Besides, you had no one to blame but yourself.
No one had forced you to say yes. Your mother would have been fine if she had to keep paying the debt, even if it took the rest of her life, and you could have helped her without marrying Jungkook. There were always other choices you could have picked, harder ones perhaps, but they always existed.
Yet you chose this route.
You walked into the marriage willingly because some foolish part of you wanted an answer to the question you’ve always had since you were ten: what would happen if Jungkook chose you to be his partner?
Well, now, the adult version of you know.
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What you didn't know that first year was that Jungkook noticed all the empty containers more than he let on, he noticed all the food you brought home for him to consume.
Jungkook would come home late most nights, and sometimes later than he actually needed to, because coming home early meant having to sit in the same room as you, and Jungkook never knew what to say to you.
He would see the food you left for him on the counter with a small note on top of it. And every time he saw it, something in his chest felt weird. Jungkook told himself what he felt had to be guilt, there was no other reason for him to care about you.
A few times, Jungkook found himself standing in the kitchen in the middle of the night, holding the food you brought home and he would just stare at it for a while before putting it back exactly where you left it. Because he didn’t want you to know he had even looked or noticed the effort you put in for him.
To Jungkook, the whole point of this marriage was revenge.
You ruined his life, so he was ruining yours.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
second year of marrtiage
By the second year of your arranged marriage, you were used to the coldness between you and Jungkook. You stopped hoping for him to change his ways, you stopped waiting for him at dinner and setting out a second plate.
You started going to Suji's for girls’ nights and coming home late on purpose, just to see if Jungkook would notice and he never did. Thankfully, it didn't hurt you as much as it would have in the first year. Most nights, he was either still out or locked inside his study. Sometimes the light under the door was the only sign that he was even home.
The apartment stayed exactly the same whether you were there or not.
At New Year, your aunt cornered you before dinner, “Where’s your husband? We’ve only met him twice in two years, and one of those times was at your wedding.”
“He’s closing a deal in Singapore,” you answered easily as lying about Jungkook was almost natural by now, “it’s a big one, so he had to be there.”
What she did not know was that you cried in your car before coming upstairs. You gave yourself exactly ten minutes to cry, sitting in the dark parking lot with the engine off and your forehead pressed against the steering wheel. Once ten minutes were over, you went upstairs to greet your family and smiled as if nothing was wrong.
It was also during the second year that you flew to Jeju for the wedding of one of Jungkook’s business partners.
You assumed you would sit together since it was still a public appearance. It felt stupid now, standing at the gate of priority passengers with your boarding pass in hand, but you didn’t think to check your tickets until Jungkook told you.
“I’m flying first class,” he said, “you’re in economy.”
“Oh,” you forced a small laugh, trying to sound as if it didn’t bother you, “I thought you would’ve booked us seats next to each other.”
“Economy seat should be fine for you. It’s only three hours.”
You spent the flight in a middle seat between two strangers, leaning past the person beside you whenever you wanted to look out the window.
Years ago, you believed being noticed by Jungkook would feel like winning something.
Now you were his wife, and he couldn’t even be bothered to sit beside you.
When the plane landed, he was not waiting for you, just as you expected. You had to book a taxi to the hotel alone and texted him to say you have arrived. And his only reply was the number of the room you had to share together since most of his colleagues and friends are staying in the same hotel.
When you let yourself into the room, he was on a call, feet up on the balcony railing as he sat on the balcony couch. It was thankfully an ensuite room with 2 separate beds, so you didn’t have to share a bed with him. Your only interaction with Jungkook then was when he lifted his finger in front of his mouth to tell you to be silent as he was talking on the phone.
At the wedding reception, you sat at a table full of his friends, who happened to be the group he used to hang out with at school, and you smiled throughout a dinner where no one asked you a single question about yourself, because to them you were simply "Jungkook's wife.”
You weren’t paying much attention to the conversation until one of the women at the table turned to you, “Is that even a real Van Cleef?” she asked, nodding at your bracelet, “it doesn’t look like it.”
“It isn’t,” you said, “it was handmade by a small business.”
“Huh,” she looked at it again, her mouth twisting slightly in disgust.
Another woman leaned closer, “Don’t you think you should make more of an effort with Jungkook’s friends? You never come to any of our gatherings. We barely know anything about you besides the fact that you’re Suji’s younger sister.”
Jungkook has never invited you to any of those gatherings, but you couldn’t tell them that, it would only give them something else to laugh about, “I’ve been busy,” you said.
“Jungkook is much busier than you,” one of the men cut in.
The first woman looked at you again, “You should be more careful about how you dress too, wearing cheap jewellery makes your husband look bad.”
It was not as if Jungkook has ever given you money to buy anything, not that you would have taken it even if he had.
“I see,” you muttered.
You stared at her bracelet before standing up from your seat, “Well, at least mine was made responsibly by someone who was paid fairly,” you said, “can you say the same about yours? Or do you just not care about the children who had to mine the diamond and stones as long as your jewellery came in an expensive box?”
Then you picked up your bag and walked away before any of them could answer.
Later, near the bar, you overheard your husband's name.
"Jungkook, honestly, I always thought you would end up with the sister. Suji, right? The one who's married to Taehyung now? She would've made more sense since you had always fancied Suji too. I mean, no offense, your wife seemed sweet, I guess, but.."
"She doesn't really fit in with us, does she?" someone else said, finishing the sentence the other couldn’t.
You turned away before you could hear Jungkook’s response, already heading back towards a table where you felt just as out of place, then his voice stopped you mid-step.
“Yeah,” Jungkook answered, sounding almost bored, “I guess Suji would’ve made more sense for me.”
That was the day you found out Jungkook fancied your sister.
You waited until you were in the hotel bathroom to cry. You locked the door, sat on the closed toilet lid, and pressed both hands over your mouth because Jungkook was somewhere on the other side of the wall and you could not let him hear you.
It should not have hurt as much as it did, you knew he did not love you. Jungkook made that clear from the first night of your marriage.
But knowing he did not want you was different from finding out he liked your own sister.
Suddenly, everything made sense to you.
The way Taehyung and Suji looked at each other when you announced the marriage to them and the way they never congratulated you. They knew, everyone knew except you.
And the worst part was remembering that you told them you have always loved Jungkook, and that he secretly liked you too.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
A few weeks later, back home, you went to dinner at one of Jungkook’s business partner’s houses. You wore the nicest outfit you owned, but you knew the second you walked in that it still was not enough for them.
One of the wives looked you up and down before smiling, “Cute,” she said.
And you knew it was not a compliment.
“No ring upgrade yet?” another woman asked during dessert, nodding at the plain band on your finger, “Jungkook usually doesn’t do anything halfway. I guess he’s saving the good jewellery for later.”
“She likes simple things,” Jungkook said without looking at you and then he continued, “Suji always said less is more too.”
You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom before your face gave you away. When you came back, they were talking about Suji, about how smart and impressive she was.
“You know,” one of his friends said to you as he refilled his glass, “we always thought Jungkook would end up with your sister. You seem sweet, but Suji and Jungkook would’ve made much more sense together.”
“None taken,” you said. This was a conversation you have heard before, so you didn’t really care much of it, at least that was what you thought.
You looked at Jungkook across the table and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. Jungkook could have told them to stop. He could have done anything that made you feel like you were not just the wrong sister sitting in Suji’s place. But instead, he looked away and didn’t even bother to correct them.
You didn’t speak during the entire drive home, Jungkook didn’t ask what was wrong or maybe he didn’t even notice how your silence was different, or maybe every silence with you sounded the same to him.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The next morning, you tried to talk to him about it, because some stubborn, hopeful part of you still believed that if you just explained it clearly enough, he would understand how you felt.
"You compared me to my sister in front of your friends," you said, over coffee he was drinking standing up, already half way out the door.
"It wasn't a big deal," he said, checking his watch, “it was a joke."
"It didn't feel like a joke."
"I don't have time for this right now," he said, "can we talk about it tonight?"
You knew, even as you nodded, that tonight would turn into tomorrow, and tomorrow would become some vague promise of “later”. By then, you already knew what later meant with Jungkook, it meant never.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
What you did not know was that Jungkook kept thinking about what he said in Jeju.
“Suji would’ve made more sense.”
The words came back to him at random times; in the shower, in the elevator, during meetings when he was supposed to be listening, and he kept telling himself it was true. Suji was always the one he wanted and everyone knew that.
Still, he could not understand why saying it had made him feel so bad.
Jungkook should not have felt guilty. You were the reason he lost Suji in the first place. You were the reason she had chosen Taehyung and left him behind.
So if anyone deserved to feel guilty, it was you.
Later that year, on a night you were out, he opened the cabinet and took out two plates without thinking. He stared at them for a few seconds before putting one back.
You stopped setting a place for him months ago, but he watched you do it so many times during the first year that the habit had somehow stayed with him. He stood there longer than he needed to, wondering why he reached for two plates when he knew you were not coming home.
For years, Suji had been the person Jungkook believed he wanted. His friends still mentioned her like she was some great love he lost, and he let himself believe that was true because it gave him a reason to stay angry.
But whenever Jungkook tried to remember her, his mind kept going somewhere else. He remembered sitting at your family’s kitchen table, helping you finish a puzzle because no one else wanted to. Jungkook remembered finding you behind the curtain during hide-and-seek, and he remembered how easily you used to laugh around him.
Jungkook has not heard your laugh in a long time and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
One night, while you were out celebrating a friend’s birthday, he sat alone in the living room with a drink in his hand. He remembered you mentioning the party, though he couldn’t remember whether you told him directly or if he saw the birthday card on the counter.
Jungkook looked around the apartment and thought that you were probably happier when he was not there.
And Jungkook did not like that thought. He did not like knowing that you could leave the apartment and become a completely different person around everyone else; someone happier.
He poured his drink into the sink and went to bed early.
Jungkook told himself what he was feeling towards you was guilt that would pass if he ignored it long enough.
It did not.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
third year of marriage
By the third year of marriage, you stopped hoping at all.
Whatever hope you carried into the marriage was nowhere to be found. You could not remember the exact moment it happened, you only knew that one day, you stopped expecting anything from Jungkook.
The two of you have been living separate lives under the same roof.
You paid for half of everything, the groceries, bills, and all the other small expenses neither of you ever discussed.
You have also gotten even better at lying during family gatherings; “he’s travelling,” “he’s busy,” or “the company is going through an important season.” You said the same excuses so often that the lies came out without any effort nowadays, even Suji stopped asking you questions about Jungkook.
“You know you don’t have to keep covering for him,” Suji said quietly at your mother’s birthday after you finished explaining Jungkook’s empty chair for the hundredth time, “we’re not going to think less of you if you tell us the truth.”
“I know,” you said.
You just didn’t have the energy to say it out loud. Once you told them, they would worry, they would ask what you planned to do, they would want you to leave him, and then you would have to explain why you even stayed for so long.
Some nights, you sat alone in the apartment and thought about how long it has been. Three whole years; you have spent three years living with someone who barely knew you.
You counted everything during the first year, but eventually, you stopped doing so. The amount of things Jungkook has done for you has become too embarrassing. There was no point keeping track of shared meals when there were barely any to count.
You feel like a different person now, sometimes, you almost feel sorry for yourself.
You waited so long for your knight to choose you, never knowing that when he finally did, it would be the very thing that broke you apart.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
Sometime during the third year of the marriage, Jungkook finally began to understand something he spent most of his life getting wrong.
It has never really been Suji.
For years, he has been so sure she was the one he wanted. Suji was beautiful, confident, and always at the centre of everything. Everyone liked her, so wanting her had always made sense to Jungkook, especially when everyone around him seemed to expect it.
But when Jungkook thought back to the years he spent at your family's house as a kid, the memories that stayed with him were never really about Suji.
It was you sitting beside him at the kitchen table, asking for help with a puzzle even though you were too shy to look directly at him. It was you hiding behind the curtain during hide-and-seek and him trying not to laugh when he found you. It was the way you used to save him a seat at lunch, the way you followed him around when you were younger, the way your face lit up whenever he paid attention to you, as if he'd done something far kinder than he actually did.
Somehow, Jungkook took all of those memories and put Suji's name all over them instead. Maybe it was because Suji was his age, and she fit so easily into the rest of his life. You have only ever been Suji's little sister, or at least that was what he always told himself. And the truth came to him slowly, then all at once.
It would have been easier if Jungkook could have kept blaming you.
Jungkook was sixteen when he finally found the courage to tell Suji how he felt, he was certain she felt the same way, only for her to turn him down. Suji told him she liked Taehyung, not him. Then she told him that even if she felt differently, she could never be with him. She told him that she couldn't bear the thought of you finding out that the boy you adored since you were ten had fallen for your own sister instead.
That was the day Jungkook decided you were the reason he lost Suji. He never could decide who he was angrier at; you for telling her first or Suji for choosing you over him.
And Jungkook found it easier to be angry at you.
He told himself for years that marrying you was a way of taking back what he lost, except somewhere in the second year of your marriage, the plan stopped feeling like justice and started feeling like something he will regret his whole life.
Because somewhere in that same year, without meaning to, Jungkook started noticing you.
He noticed that he memorised the sound of your keys in the door. He noticed he wasn't surprised your mug was blue, because he remembered you telling him back when you were still a kid that blue was your favourite colour.
Jungkook started noticing the shows you watched in the living room that he could hear from his room, the nights you came home late and laughed quietly on the phone before disappearing into your bedroom, and the way the apartment felt different when you were gone.
He noticed you took your coffee black in the mornings but liked your tea with milk at night. Jungkook noticed the light under your door usually went out around midnight, and on the nights it didn't, he found himself lying awake wondering what was keeping you up.
Jungkook noticed how you would go still for a second before answering your mother's calls, then soften your voice the moment you picked up. He noticed you still bit the inside of your cheek when you were concentrating, exactly the way you did at ten years old.
He spent years insisting he had no interest in getting to know you, and somewhere along the way, he memorised you completely.
He even started coming home earlier on the nights he knew you would be there; early enough that he could hear you moving around in the kitchen, or catch a glimpse of you before you went to bed.
Jungkook remembered that night in Jeju more clearly than he wanted to. He watched you leave the table after his friends made fun of your bracelet, and for a second, he almost went after you. Yet he did nothing instead and later at the bar, he told someone that Suji would have made more sense for him. It was just easy to say because he has been telling himself the same thing for years.
It was easier to believe he lost Suji than to admit he was ruining whatever chance he had with you.
The night he finally realised it, he tried to think about Suji, tried to search for whatever he spent years insisting was still there and there was nothing. Whatever he felt for Suji disappeared a long time ago. Jungkook only kept holding onto it because it felt familiar, because blaming you was easier than admitting he was the one in the wrong.
He knew more about you than he ever bothered to learn about Suji, and that was when he finally understood that all along, the person he has been thinking about was you.
Somewhere in the middle of an arranged marriage he agreed to as a revenge, Jungkook had fallen for the person he was punishing, and he only realised it after you had already stopped caring whether he came home.
The only question left was whether Jungkook had realised he witnessed your devotion too late.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
You didn’t come home that night, instead you called your sister for an emergency meeting at your mom’s place, "Come by mom’s house tonight," you pleaded, "please."
Suji and Taehyung were already there when you arrived.
You sat down at the kitchen table where you grew up doing homework, "I need to tell you guys something," you said.
So you told them about how he treated you, you told them the reason behind the empty chair at every holiday, and every single thing that happened during your marriage.
The moment you stopped talking, your mother went to her knees in the middle of the kitchen. You have never, in twenty-six years, seen your mother on her knees for anything, not even at your father's funeral where she stood so straight and so still you worried she had forgotten how to bend her knees
"I did this to you," your mother cried out, and she was frantic in a way you have never once witnessed, her hands were shaking as she reached for yours, "I owe them the money, not you. I sold you to fix my own mistake and I have watched you smile through three years of a marriage that's been eating you alive and I told myself it was fine because you never once complained, because you're so good at never complaining, and I am so sorry, I am so sorry, please forgive me."
You dropped to your knees and held her, and you cried the way you haven’t let yourself cry in years. You cried until your throat was hurting, until Suji came around the table and wrapped her arms around both of you, until Taehyung stood a few feet away with his jaw tight and his hands curled into fists.
"It's okay," you said, when you could speak again,"I'll always help you, Mom. I mean that, I’ll help you pay that debt. But this time, I want a divorce."
Suji was already standing next to you, and the look on her face was one you'd never seen there before, "I am going to kill him," she said, “I’m sorry, ____. I never.. I should have known. I should have asked you harder. I should have protected you."
"Don't," you said, “please. I don't want any of you doing anything. I don't want him in my life anymore, and I don't want to spend one more minute of my energy on him. I just want it to be over. I want to be done."
They didn't like it.
You could see in all of their faces that it was hurting them not to do anything in your stead. But they loved you enough to hear you out.
For the first time in three years you slept in your childhood bedroom, and that night, you slept better than you have in a long, long time.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
At first, Jungkook didn’t think much of it when you weren’t home. You went out sometimes. Three years of marriage taught him your routine; Tuesdays with your girlfriends; the occasional weekend at your mother’s.
Jungkook came home the first night to an empty apartment, ordered food, and ate it standing at the kitchen counter. Your disappearance didn’t seem unusual enough for him to question it.
By the second day, the apartment felt different and he couldn’t immediately work out why. The coffee maker hadn’t been used, there was no bitter smell in the kitchen when he walked in that morning and the mug you always used for tea was still sitting where he left it two days ago.
Jungkook looked at it for longer than he should have, then he checked the entryway for your shoes and they weren’t there. An hour later, Jungkook checked again, and still you weren’t back home.
By the third day, he texted you.
Jungkook: You okay?
No message came back. He stared at the screen until it dimmed in his hand again, and when Jungkook unlocked it, there was still nothing.
By the fourth day, the uneasiness became too loud for him to ignore. It followed him into the shower, the car, and the office. Jungkook sat through meetings without taking in a word. Jungkook asked his assistant to repeat what they just said three times, and afterwards Jungkook still couldn’t remember what they were even discussing.
Jungkook called you once in the afternoon, then again on the drive home, but both calls went to voicemail.
Jungkook wasn’t used to this.
Jungkook is used to handling problems, hell, he has built companies and sat across from men twice his age and made them agree to terms they had sworn they would never accept. Jungkook knew how to remain calm when everyone else in the room was losing their mind.
But that night, at two in the morning, Jungkook lay awake thinking about one unanswered text, thinking about where you were, if you were eating well, if you were sleeping soundly, if you will ever come back home to him.
When did he become like this?
By the fifth day, Jungkook drove past your mother’s street twice.
The first time, he told himself he had taken the wrong turn. The second time, he slowed down near your house and looked for a light in the windows. Jungkook wanted proof that you were there, that you were somewhere and you didn’t simply disappear beyond his reach.
Jungkook hated how badly he needed you. He opened your contact on his phone again and again but never pressed call, his thumb only hovered over your name until the screen went dark again.
The past three years of marriage have been made up of small things he never should have done. The meals you prepared that he barely touched, the questions he answered without looking at you, the evenings when you sat beside him and eventually stopped trying to start a conversation.
You tried to make a life with him, yet Jungkook treated every attempt as an inconvenience.
For years, he told himself that he was the victim, that Suji was the person he should have been married to. But when Jungkook forced himself to remember exactly why he liked Suji, he felt nothing.
What Jungkook remembered was always you and everything the two of you had done together. He remembered a girl half his size sitting across from him, looking up at him like he was her world. He remembered playing hide-and-seek with you and he remembered pretending not to see you.
Jungkook always said Suji was the person he was the happiest with, but all the memories that felt warm to him, belonged to you.
Admitting the truth would have meant admitting that Jungkook spent years hurting the wrong person. And tonight, Jungkook sat alone in the living room and finally clearly admitted the one he always wanted was you.
Jungkook didn’t want a divorce and he did not want you to leave him.
When he imagined the apartment being empty of your things, Jungkook’s chest started hurting. When he imagined another man hearing you laugh, learning what food you liked, being invited to your mother’s house, he felt something pressing against his chest that it was hard for him to breathe.
Jungkook wanted you to remain his wife and the thought made him feel ashamed of all the things he had done to you the past three years.
“My wife,” Jungkook said to his empty apartment.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
Jungkook tried to call Suji, but she didn’t answer. So, the next morning, he called Taehyung and to his surprise, Taehyung answered on the second ring.
“Stay away from my family,” was all Taehyung said when he picked up.
“I knew you had feelings for my wife,” Taehyung continued, “I have known for years, I knew since we were children, Jungkook. I didn’t say anything because I thought you would get over it. I thought it was some pathetic thing from when we were younger that would eventually die out.”
“Taehyung,” Jungkook tried to cut him off, but Taehyung wouldn’t let him.
“No. You don’t get to say shit. It’s been years,” Taehyung said, “and while you were busy feeling sorry for yourself, you destroyed her sister. Three years, Jungkook. She carried your marriage alone for three years and still smiled through every family dinner because she didn’t want anyone worrying about her. We recently found out it was an arranged marriage, fine, you didn’t have to love her, but you could have treated her decently.”
“You knew she didn’t deserve it,” Taehyung continued, “that’s the part I can’t understand. You knew exactly who she was, and you still treated her like she was responsible for everything you hated about your life.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t,” Taehyung let out a short and bitter laugh, “But I hope you do now. I hope you finally understand what you’ve done, and I hope you feel every second of it.”
Then the call ended.
Jungkook spent years blaming you for a decision neither of you had made. Every humiliation, disappointment, and every bit of grief he carried since he was seventeen, he somehow found a way to make it yours.
It was easier than looking at you, who stayed beside him and asked for so little, and realising he had still given you even less than that.
Now you were gone and there was no one left for him to blame but himself.
Jungkook was not the man he always imagined himself to be. He was pathetic, petty, cowardly, and far smaller than the woman he spent three years treating like nobody.
Jungkook has been nothing but a pathetic, petty and frightened boy wearing a man’s face.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The next day, Jungkook went to your mother's house.
She opened the door and just looked at Jungkook with disappointment across her face. It was the same look she gave him when he didn’t kiss you at the altar.
"I'm not here to see her," Jungkook quickly said, before your mom could close the door, "I know she doesn't want to see me yet. I'm here because I need to say something to you, and I need you to hear me out."
She didn’t say anything, yet she opened the door wide enough to let him in. Unlike the other guests who have visited her home, your mother did not offer Jungkook tea. There was no need to treat him like an acquaintance, soon Jungkook will be her ex son-in-law and someone whom she’ll never ever meet in her life again.
She sat him at the same kitchen table where you cried just a few nights before.
"I owe your family a lot of money," she said, folding her hands in front of her, "I understand that. I understand this was an arranged marriage none of you asked for or wanted, and that you were as much a pawn in it as my daughter was.”
She drew in a small breath before continuing, “What I do not understand, Jungkook, is how you could treat another human being, my daughter, the kindest person I have ever raised and the one who never once in her life made anyone feel small… How could you have treated her the way you have done the past three years? I am in as much pain watching what this did to her as she is living it, maybe even more, because I was the one who put her in this situation with you in the first place. So tell me, why should I forgive you? Why should I let you anywhere near her again? What exactly do you intend to do?"
Jungkook has never been shaken by anything in his life, not until tonight, sitting in front of your mother.
"I don't have a clear answer," he said, "I wish I did. I spent years being angry at _____ for something that was never even her fault, something I won't even go into right now, because it's mine to explain to her first. And then I spent three more years married to her and still treating her like she was the one who wronged me. I'm not asking you to forgive me."
Jungkook looked at her, and he looked so broken your mother couldn’t help pitying him, "I'm asking for the chance to keep showing up until it means something to her. I'll beg for her forgiveness, I'll keep coming back even when she tells me not to, even when she has every right to slam the door in my face. But we'll talk, we'll argue, we'll probably fight, more than once, because I don't think she's going to make this easy for me, and she shouldn't and I wouldn’t want her to. I just know I can't bring myself to just let this end without actually trying for the first time in this whole marriage. I want to be someone worth her time. Without knowing it, I realised that the small things she has done throughout our marriage was never small at all. She loved me despite the ugly things I have done. I was just too busy being furious at my past to notice I was standing next to the person I actually wanted."
Your mother stared at him for a long moment, long enough that Jungkook thought she might ask him to leave without another word.
Her marriage to your father hadn’t always been easy. There were years of arguments over parenting, finance, and many more. There were years where she wondered if she married too young.
But when he died, something in her broke apart and it never quite put itself back together.
She remembered how you used to climb into their bed on Sunday mornings, how your father would let you win at cards, how you cried at his funeral so quietly like you were trying not to take up too much space even in your own grief.
you see, your mother knew about your crush on Jungkook. She watched you for sixteen years, she saw the way your face changed whenever Jungkook's name came up at the dinner table, and pretended not to notice the way you used to volunteer to answer the door whenever Suji’s group of friends came around, just in case it was Jungkook. She knew, long before you ever confessed to it, that you had loved him since you were a child.
And when she told you about the arranged marriage, some small, guilty part of her had let herself believe that maybe this could help. Maybe if she was going to ruin your life with her mistake, it could at least be with the one person you had always wanted to have a relationship with.
She was wrong.
She watched that hope change into something else these past three years, watching you get smaller in ways you thought she hadn't noticed, watching you repeating lies about a man who could not even be bothered to accompany you for your own father’s death anniversaries.
She was, is, a bad mother for that.
But she also knew you. She knew that if she asked you right now, whether some part of you still wanted to know if he was willing to try, you wouldn’t say no.
"Sit up straight," she finally said, and Jungkook blinked at her, caught off guard.
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me," your mother’s voice was firm and steady, "If you're going to sit in my kitchen and tell me you intend to fight for my daughter, you're not going to do it slouched over like a boy waiting to be punished. Fighting for her means showing up like you mean it, every time, starting now."
Jungkook immediately straightened his posture.
"I'm not telling you this because I forgive you," she continued, "I will not forgive you for a long time, and that will be my right to decide, just as it will be hers."
She took a deep breath, before continuing, "But I have spent three years watching my daughter lie to the people who love her because she didn't want anyone to know how badly you have hurt her. If you're serious, then you do not need to convince me. You show her, you keep showing it to her, and you need to accept that she may never let you back in, and you don't get to be angry about it, not after all the years you've taken from her already."
"She was ten years old the first time she talked to me about you," she said quietly, "I used to think it was sweet. I didn't know I was watching the beginning of something that would be a long time pain for her. So if she gives you a second chance, you do not waste whatever time she gives you, Jungkook. She has given enough of it away for free, do you understand me?"
"I understand," he said.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
You came home from a work trip three days later and found Jungkook sitting at your family home’s dining table, his laptop open and a stack of papers beside him like it was any other weekday.
He was sitting there as if it wasn’t your first time seeing him since you walked out of the home you shared with him.
"What the fuck are you doing here?” you sneered.
Your keys were clenched in your hand, and your entire body went rigid at the sight of him sitting in a chair at your family home.
"I'm here to date you," he said, slowly looking up at you.
You stared at him in disbelief, "You are here to what?"
“Date you,” Jungkook said as he closed his laptop, “I want to date you properly this time.”
For a second, all you could do was look at him.
"I know what I did,” Jungkook continued, “I know what three years of this marriage to me did to you. I'm not asking you to forget it. I just.. I want the chance to earn what I should’ve earned before we ever got married.”
You let out a dry and humourless laugh, before asking, “What the fuck?!”
You dropped your keys onto the counter, and they hit harder than you intended it to be, “You think you can just show up here and ask to start over?”
“No matter what you do, my heart is not going to change, Jungkook. I'm not a child anymore. I know better than to give you a second chance, hell, I gave you a hundred chances over the last three years and you didn't take a single one.”
“You are beneath me now,” you said quietly, “do you understand that?”
“Then give me one last chance,” Jungkook said, almost pleading.
“Let me court you,” he continued, “let me date you the way I should have the past three years.”
You didn’t answer.
You just walked past him and went to get changed.
You were meeting your friends that night, and had no intention of spending another minute in that kitchen listening to Jungkook act like he could fix three years with a few words.
He stayed where he was while you moved around the house, but you could feel his eyes on you. It shouldn’t have felt unfamiliar, he was your husband. Still, you couldn’t remember the last time he actually noticed you.
but you hated that your body enjoyed the feeling of being noticed by him, hated that some part of you still wanted to be seen by him.
"Can I come?" he asked, from the living room, he sounded quieter than you have ever heard him speak, “I would love to get to know your friends.”
You scoffed out loud in response and left without answering him.
When the door shut behind you, something in your body felt at ease because for the first time in years, your life felt like it belonged entirely to you again.
"life is a party that one day ends, and you were my unforgettable dance"
title: baile inolvidable (explicit)
pairing: ex!yoongi x reader
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; exes to lovers au
summary: there’s only one person that you’re better off never running into again. but when fate decides it’s time for you to face him, you prepare yourself for complete destruction. because he never told you what you wanted, and you never told him goodbye.
note: literally nothing redeeming to say i wrote this in two days all bc of a guy wearing a jersey lol barely edited so pls excuse any typos!
note 2: also tell me why i wrote all of this and then looked for a title, only to fucking weep when this song matched perfectly. anyway, here we go, first new fic in years! enjoy and i’m so sorry if it hurts a bit.
note 3: highly highly recommend listening to the title song and reading the lyrics if you don't know them. it's beautiful, and knowing it enhances the angst tenfold.
warnings: language, explicit scenes, an unforgettable dance, pining, angst but truly who is shocked anymore, men that give The Ick, exes, yoongi in that gd madrid jersey, the chains stay on (hi hello it’s me), alexa play Like Animals, hoseok also needs his own warning, tension, more angst, jk is the biggest mood, kissing as a warning, guilt, yearning, yoongi hands, the ending is worth it<3
disclaimer: all characters are my own and just happen to look like members of bts! purely a work of fiction. just had a lot of feelings.
mood: baile inolvidable - bad bunny ; qlona - karol g, peso pluma
explicit warnings: under the cut and it's a mouthful lmaooo
drop date: june 30th, 2026, 7pm est
word count: 13k have mercy!
explicit warnings: manhandling, public sex, rough sex, hair/head pulling, oral (m rec), choking, cowgirl, spitting, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, breast play, fucking an ex.... lol, multiple orgasms, the chains stay on, hella backshots, emotional sex, creampie OOP, club sex, reader is bad, yoongi loses his gd mind, couch sex, wall sex, chair sex, umm yeah alexa play like animals thanks
-
-
“What’s taking you so long!”
Groaning, you concentrate on getting your lashes just right. “Told you it’d be just a minute!”
“I know.” Hoseok pops into your hotel bathroom, deep neckline and even deeper scent of cologne almost making you jab yourself right in the socket. “But it’s been ten.”
It’ll end up being a lot longer than that if he keeps cocking that perfect brow. Shouldn’t he know the rule of getting ready already?
Done with your current task, you blink and inspect yourself in the wide mirror spanning the master bath. “Yeah, a minute means twenty. So I have ten to spare, right?”
Bright teeth shine as he shakes his head. And you know it’s because you’re both slated to be super early anyway.
Everything’s going according to schedule. All your old friends flew in yesterday, and the plan for today is to head to dinner to watch the night game with everyone. After that, you’ll walk straight to the club a few blocks down that you’ve heard to be the best in town.
Well. Best in town for absolute eye candy. Taehyung warned that everyone that’s been to Lo Prohibito knows the dress code is simple but effective: luxurious. Unless your face card is so lethal you get in on that alone, or you happen to have celebrity status.
And your confidence can only take you so far. You look fucking good, but you aren’t risking being turned away just because you were lax getting ready.
So ten more minutes it is. Hobi will just have to deal with it.
Goddamn, he could get in without a single issue, though. Honestly, he could be wearing a linen shirt and shorts with sandals and they’d mistake him for a millionaire. “I’ll be ready before you know it,” you say over your bare, perfumed shoulder. “You’ll be able to see your lover soon enough.”
Hoseok shoots you a grin before huffing out, “Got me, huh.”
“You’re the easiest person in the world to read.” Leaning over your makeup bag, you rummage through your brushes. “Whatever you’re thinking is always written all over your face."
Quick laughter coats the bathroom in more light. “I can’t help it, okay! It’s always been that way.” When you focus in the mirror and pat your face, he suddenly drops two pitches in tone. “Sorry about yours.”
Here you go again. You know exactly what he’s talking about.
“Hobi,” you sigh. “I don’t care anymore, okay? It’s been a month.”
“I know, but…” Expelling a heavy, sympathetic breath of his own, he leans against the double door entryway. That dulcet yet gravelly tone of his rolls across marble floors as he says exactly what you don’t want him to, “You seemed pretty happy with them.”
You were. In fact, you were more than happy.
But something just didn’t feel right. Sure, the days you spent with your most recent fling were perfect. You felt comfortable with them, you admired how thoughtful they were and how attentive.
It was the nights that made you more than hesitant.
Because no matter how many times you slept together, you never felt truly understood. What you wanted, what you needed? They would get so close to getting it right, only to never reach that level of intensity and passion you were looking for.
So you broke it off one quiet, cherry-red sunset on the beach weeks ago.
Only to find out that they were seeing someone else the whole time anyway.
Fuck love. To hell with happiness. Why do all your relationships end up this way? Why do you always attract the people that seem perfect on the surface but hide so many flaws underneath? It’s starting to fucking annoy you and you may damn well swear to the single life forever.
Though. There was one relationship that didn’t exactly end this way.
But you’re never thinking about that one again, so no point in shuffling through those beautiful, tragic, regretful memories now.
“And now I’m happy without them,” you finally respond to Hoseok, who tears his gaze from the white floors to see you staring in the mirror. “Probably happy without anyone else, actually.”
What a fucking lie.
“I mean, there’s time to find someone you...” Your friend pockets a hand while adjusting his loose top, shadows naturally accenting his abdomen. “Never mind. See you out there. Love the red.”
You swish the silken floor-length material of your gaudy, quite revealing dress. “Thank you. This is my favorite part, look.”
Hoseok watches as you stomp your leg out of the thigh-high slit so comically it catches him off guard, cackling before a lighthearted, “Careful with that!”
“Says the man who’s practically naked.”
All you get is a shameless shrug before your friend spins on this heel to leave, no doubt checking the texts on his phone.
At least he's excited about seeing his gorgeous pull after so long. And you do not blame him one bit. The way he looks at her? She may as well be a goddess because his gaze turns almost reverent every time.
A blurry memory consumes your mind like a haze, and you see completely different eyes with just as much fervor. They watch as you mount slow, chests slick with sweat and breathing deep from hours of—
Manicured hands grip the sink as your brush skitters onto granite counters.
Fuck. Never again.
Never, ever, ever again.
Pull yourself together. You’re a whole different person with a whole different future. That version of you is one you left far behind, as well as the life that came with it.
You extend ten minutes into fifteen.
And Hoseok’s outright whistle at your emergence lets you know the extra time was worth it.
—
—
Dinner is loud and vibrant, with the whole restaurant locked in on the game and erupting in cheers when the home team scores. Or at least, the team that the majority of fans want to win scores.
You aren’t completely sure, because there are jerseys of every country everywhere you look. It’s the one time you feel a sense of togetherness, with everyone giving each other friendly jabs and your group doing and saying anything to rile each other up.
Hoseok is downright lethal with his date, the two of them showing off jawlines that can kill as they watch the nearest screen. But they’re on the other end of the long wooden table, so you have to find other people to converse with.
Unfortunately, you find that the person sitting in front of you is a stranger, seemingly knowing someone else in the group and just happened to tag along. He quickly offered small talk when you all started ordering, which you already found a little awkward because you were trying to focus on what to get.
Now, he keeps giving you more and more information about his achievements and endeavors, not once asking for your name. Figures.
Both the friends you’re sitting next to are no help, either.
To your left, Jeongguk’s checking his phone for the fiftieth time this hour, scrolling through videos to avoid having to speak to anyone.
And to your right, Taehyung cheers and stands when another goal is scored, locking elbows with the stranger behind him and drinking from his glass mug. Apparently he had been making fast friends while you were entertaining the guy that keeps staring at you. How cool. Happy for him. Can you both switch seats?
Your wish doesn’t get granted for another hour. So that means you’re still talking to and giving polite encouragement to this gentleman. Though the term gentleman is very, very generous. It became more than obvious he just wants to fuck from the way he's been shamelessly ogling your plunging neckline.
Mercifully, Jeongguk finally saves you, leaning in and pretending to show you a reel or tiktok or whatever the fuck he’s scrolling through. Instead, a text he typed into your message thread is all you see.
Wanna go outside?
Going along and laughing at his fake share, you give him a grateful smile and nod. Turning to the man watching you with curiosity—and is that really jealousy?—you excuse yourself,
“We’re gonna check out the second floor! Be right back.”
Not even waiting to see nor hear his reaction.
—
—
Outside the restaurant and not on the second floor, you can finally breathe again, watching the city come alive with its vehicle rush and streetlight hum.
Next to you, your tattooed savior takes a long hit of his vape, and you run a hand across the thin gold chain around your neck.
Without your permission, another memory slips through your defenses. And this one proves sharper, astonishingly clearer than the first.
Hands grab a string of gold from a nightstand, and you instantly ache because you remember what comes right after. As soon as it’s clipped onto a slim neck, you watch the necklace lower, and lower, right before you angle your mouth up to take it between your—
“Fuck.”
Jeongguk whips his head right as your eyes snap open. “You okay? What’s wrong?”
No. There are a thousand things wrong. You didn’t even fucking realize your vision went dark until light flooded out your unwanted nostalgia.
Fuck, you hadn’t thought of that summer afternoon in years. Your reaction was visceral enough to spurn an oncoming headache. “Nothing,” you whoosh out. “What time is it?”
“Almost time to head over to Lo Prohibido.” Gripping his phone, the man asks with concern, “You sure you’re good to go?”
Head pulsing, you nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, just dehydrated. Can you pick a city that won't try to burn me out next time? I'm down for traveling but it's been hell here.”
Unconvinced and unfazed, Jeongguk cocks his head to the door. “Let’s go back in. I know your favorite person is waiting, but you gotta drink water.”
“Don’t,” you groan. “He’s cute, but I got the biggest ick like halfway in.”
Your amused friend giggles as he holds the door open, “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would.”
Laughing when more cheers erupt from inside, you give his jacketed arm a playful shove as you look down the street. “I’m nice, okay? Don’t—”
Your heart.
It booms.
In an instant, the whole world blurs, lights and bodies making solid, serpentine lines and even sound itself rolling to a deep, dull hum.
The only one you can see. The only person you can make out with perfect clarity.
Is the one you’ve been trying your fucking hardest to not remember.
Staring right at you with eyes you’ll never, ever forget.
Yoongi.
He’s just down the way, standing amongst a group with a striped jersey, dark hair swept so perfectly your chest pangs. Even though everyone around him is animated and laughing, the look on his face makes it undeniable he’s not focused on anything else.
And with a stopped heart, neither are you.
Until your lower back is held, tugging you out of the dream as Jeongguk’s question is laden with worry,
“Seriously, what’s going on? Do you need to go back to the hotel?”
You jolt away from his touch, but the action isn’t warranted. For fuck’s sake, he’s a friend you’ve known just as long as you've known the spectre down the street. Why did you feel the need to escape his worrisome hand? He isn't like the guy you just met.
If that dude had been the one to touch you, though, you would’ve fucking decked him. You are not letting him feel an inch of your skin, and that includes the majority of it you’re baring at the back.
“No, I’m—I’m fine,” you manage to get out. “Just thought I saw.. Never mind. Water.”
Yoongi would’ve damn near murdered that creep, too.
Shit.
Right before stepping back in, you turn to peer back down the sidewalk, brain concluding that what you saw was your imagination and your heart adamantly disagreeing.
However, there’s no sign of Yoongi anywhere. That same group of people continues to chitter away outside, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
So your logic is sound. It was just a dream. There’s no way he’d be here, and he looked way too fucking handsome to be real anyway. Maybe your mind is just playing tricks on you as an act of revenge for making it remember him this much today.
Because you’re remembering everything. The way he knew exactly how to get under your skin. The times he proved so patient. The way he absolutely knew how to act under your sheets.
And his. And elsewhere. Anywhere the two of you decided to make love.
And that singular word is exactly why your flame burned its brightest before choking out.
You were ready.
He wasn’t.
And you regret your decision to leave more than anything else in your entire life.
Because you could’ve fought harder. You could’ve given him more time. But when you confessed under a blanket of stars and didn’t hear those three words reciprocated, every single celestial plummeted from the sky, plunging you headfirst into a deep, dark ocean of insecurity and bubbling self-loathing.
The night you left, you left everything. You left your room, your apartment, the city you called home your entire life. Like a coward that couldn’t face rejection.
Because you didn’t even tell Yoongi goodbye.
And that’s the last damning reminder you hurl at yourself before rejoining your friends inside.
—
—
You readily down two glasses of water.
Inwardly laughing at the fact that the same dude straight up left to “meet up with his brochachos.”
—
—
Lo Prohibito is decibels louder than the restaurant, and that includes the moments everyone cheered to the max.
A dazzling laser show beams from behind the raised DJ booth, and machines shoot out air to provide much needed circulation and boost the spread of confetti.
To your delight, everyone here is just as pretty as you imagined. You’re thanking all your lucky clovers that you were accepted inside, strutting in on your heels with chin held high.
Maybe not as high as it could go.
But you refuse to let anything else bring you down tonight. You’re supposed to be having another great outing, spending it with your friends and enjoying the nightlife while you’re still able.
Bright colors span across every surface as a thumping bass shakes your toes, and you wait for the rest of your group to trickle in to find a good dancing spot—and a much needed drink because you are desperate for one.
At this point, you’ll pay any price to forget whatever the fuck you saw earlier.
Be it a figment of your imagination, or a devilishly attractive ghost, you just need to wipe that achingly handsome face from your mind.
There’s no way he’s here. And even if who you saw was real? It wasn’t the man you loved.
Because there’s no way Yoongi would even look your way again.
Not like you want him to anyway. Forget him. He gave you everything except the one thing you ultimately wanted, and you couldn’t live in his moonlight without your stars slowly burning out.
Breathe. Focus on the present. Stay in the now.
“Come on,” he instructs, holding your fingers before grabbing your waist. “Stay with me.”
“Sorry,” you whisper to your stumbling feet. “I just keep messing up that damn step and it’s annoying.”
“I know.” He grips your hand, turning so that you land against his chest, comforting tone soothing your burning ear, “But you got a lot more chances to get it. We got time. Stay in the now.”
“Okay.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Come on!”
Your past whisks away with the club fog, and you follow Hoseok and the rest off the crowded floor. “Where are we going!”
Hand on the nearest winding staircase, he turns with a smile. “Got us VIP! We’re up here.”
“No fucking way?” How the hell did Hobi manage to do that? Wasn’t this place booked up the last time you both checked yesterday? “How!”
Cheekily, the man simply plucks at his undone overshirt and wiggles, smirking as his date doubles over in a laugh.
“Oh, you’re a freak,” you call out behind him with praise. “Thank you for your service.”
Thank Jung Hoseok and those abs indeed because the VIP booth is a godsend. Sure, it’s still crowded on the second floor, but at least you don’t have to worry about standing shoulder to shoulder the whole night. You have somewhere to retreat to when you need a breather.
Which Jeongguk is already taking the most advantage of, settling into the middle of the booth and planting elbows on the long table stretching end to end. Music blares while people shout all throughout the club, but he seems quite zeroed in on his phone.
Maybe you can both use each other as a scapegoat again if you need to leave. He’s been enjoying himself for the most part, but you can tell he’s extremely ready to go home and the night just started. If you weren’t desperate to let loose and forget years of your life tonight, you would’ve offered to get shitty fast food with him and walk around the city instead.
Mm. That still sounds like a backup option.
“Who wants drinks!” Taehyung calls out from the far end of the booth, standing to wave someone down and glancing at everyone giving him their orders all at once. “Let’s just get bottles!”
Perfect. He knows exactly what to do, so you let him drive and settle into the booth to wait for the liquid ailment to your problems.
This club has it all, you muse as you take everything in. From endless bottles and extravagant cocktails sailing over the crowd, to sparkler shows and pops of streamers raining down from above, it’s a paradise of a getaway.
But the outfits? To your surprise, you feel slightly out of place, even arguably overdressed wearing the most expensive thing you own. Yes, there are loads of tens walking around, even some elevens and twelves if you’re honest. But you do see quite a few people in outfits as casual as Jeongguk’s leather.
Either way, almost everyone is dripped in the most lavish jewelry and clothing, from designer to exclusive to wait someone got in wearing a jersey?
How the hell? Despite the outfits you saw there hasn’t been anyone in here with a jersey, is he famous? It's the same one you saw on the sidewalk when you—
Fuck. That’s not him, is it? You can’t quite see his face, but that back is so…
No. No no no. You’re staying here for awhile so that better have been another mind trick or you're taking that backup plan with Jeongguk immediately—
“Here,” Taehyung catches your attention while hastily holding out a glass. “This is what you wanted, right?”
You take it with shaky fingers. “Yes, it’s perfect, thank you.”
When you turn back, the red and white stripes are gone.
And you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.
“You okay?”
Turning, you notice that Tae’s eyes are extremely focused on yours. You nod as you down your shot in one go. “Yeah, I’m good.”
His honey rasp slows on the way out, “You sure..?”
“Yeah.” When you push more of the stinging, sweet alcohol down, you decide to start telling him what you saw. “I just… I thought I saw…”
Taehyung is one of the only ones that never questioned why you left town. Which you’re grateful for, because you couldn’t handle all your other friends sending you text after text after call. It was fucking overwhelming, but you had one person that just allowed you to make decisions and live with them.
“Saw who?” He asks, cutting through your vision with long fingers in a wave and calling you back to reality.
“No one.” You don’t even wanna say his name. It carries the weight of the world. “Forget it! I’ll be good as soon as we start.”
Unconvinced but letting you have space, Tae doesn’t pry.
“If you say so.”
—
—
For the next hour, everything is great. You play stupid drinking games with your friends, cheer for the most random shit the house emcee yells, and you start to slowly wash the unwanted memories from your mind.
At one point, Jeongguk stuns the section by dancing on booth cushions and swinging his jacket, revealing he only had a thin tank underneath. Many people stare slackjawed at his physique and understated choice of outfit, but you can only cackle with your friends because you all know he’s gonna go right back to his phone in seconds. He just really, really likes the song playing.
And you’re enjoying the DJ set, too. As long as they don’t play specific songs, you can enjoy the rest of the night in absolute peace.
Especially the one song that haunts your every waking moment. The first time you heard it, in a club somewhere along pink lemonade sand, you trudged knee deep into the crashing tide and didn’t leave until the sun dipped under the horizon.
Because it hit too close to home. And your deluge of tears gave back infinite saltwater to the sea.
Relax. Don’t throw any possibilities into the atmosphere, especially when your mind is fucked up tonight. Your friends are heading down to the dance floor, so go with them and forget everyone else.
Making sure your drink is finished, you feel ice hit your lips before clinking it down, rushing to join your group at the top of the staircase.
Only to stutter so close to the edge your heart leaps out of your chest.
It keeps falling, and falling. Because there’s no mistaking this time. That man you saw wearing the outfit that’s starting to haunt you? He’s talking animatedly to someone across the second floor, dusty pink elbow perched on the railing with a drink in his still so veiny hand.
And your mouth turns sour at the way his shoulder is tapped by pretty nails, tongue hot and darkly spiced when Yoongi just laughs into his cup.
God. He’s here. He’s devastating without even trying.
And, as your blasphemous logic reminds you, that beautiful smile will never be yours anymore.
But that doesn’t stop you from staring. Because while on the street, you could’ve argued he was a hallucination birthed from dehydration. Right here, in this moment, you’ve sobered up in a snap and you know for a fact what you’re seeing is real.
Maybe it was better when you assumed he wasn’t.
At least then, you didn’t have to entertain any worse outcomes than just seeing him. You didn’t have to think about how you’d feel seeing him so close to someone else.
Looks like the universe is giving you the final consequences of your escape. Yoongi has your fate in the warm, rough palm of his hand, and you know he’ll do nothing but let it fall to the rumbling floor below. Just to watch with unblinking eyes.
“Hey, you gonna go down or what?”
Turning, you start to move to the side, embarrassment heating the skin of your back that was just lightly grazed, “Shit, sorry—”
A strong arm pushes you sideways into hard metal as a duo of guys head down the stairs. You figure it’s an accident, but that doesn’t stop your face from contorting in pain and a curse to fling from your mouth. Because damn that fucking hurt.
“Dude, watch it!” The one behind looks back at you to apologize, “Sorry about my—”
Oh… Really…
The guy from dinner halts in his apology, and your brow lifts right before he waves you off.
Waves you off.
At least your intuition is always spot on. Good riddance, you were completely valid to ditch his brochacho ass earlier.
Rolling your eyes skyward and even aiming a petulant tongue at his retreating back, you scoff before leaning on chilled metal, letting a moment pass before heading down to Taehyung and the rest of them.
Where are they anyway? If you don’t spot them from here it’s gonna be hard to find them on the.. ground..
Your heart looks up before you do.
And you catch your ex watching intently from across the way, phone sliding from his ear before he straightens to start walking.
…Towards you?
Fuck.
It’s been bad enough catching glimpses of Yoongi and seeing him entertain someone else. If he gets one foot right in front of you? Everything you’ve worked so hard to build up against him and the haunting memories of your relationship will collapse into dust. You can’t bear him seeing how you haven’t changed your fucking mind.
To your utmost pain, all roads have always led back to him. No matter how deep you relate to or click with someone, no matter how happy another person makes you, no one has come close to how Yoongi made you feel.
Because he’s the only one that understood even the darkest parts of you. And he’s the only light in your life you ran away from.
There’s a reason you watch every sunset. There’s a reason you stand on the beach back home and don’t move your sandswept legs until the last rays give way to the ocean line.
It’s because of the guilt. The guilt of turning away from the warmth you held in your hands and the warmth you left behind.
Your eyes stay tethered as your ex makes his way down the long side of the upstairs balcony, partiers smushing together and bottles roving over his head as ladies take them to VIP tables.
Based on the heat in his eyes? Yoongi’s on the universe’s side. There’s no way he’s seeking anything else other than revenge.
Shit, shit shit. This isn’t good for you. Literally nothing great nor healthy can come out of this if he ends up in your orbit. One word, two words, and even worse, three words from those unforgettable lips would destroy you and never let you recover.
But your hands stay tight on the warming railing. And they won’t fucking let go.
Downstairs. Go down the stairs. Go.
Yoongi’s almost here. All he has to do is round the corner. He's close enough for you to notice the silver chains adorning his neck.
And the last thing you think with a withering heart is how devastatingly handsome he’s become.
With a tight breath, you pelt high heels downward one hasty step at a time. Winding, winding, spiraling like the thoughts storming your mind. The further down you go, the farther away he is.
Your heel catches on your dress before you stumble, but you don’t look back to see if Yoongi’s even still behind you.
Chill the fuck out and don’t fucking trip. You already had nasty falls before with scars to prove it and a sticky club floor is the worst place to sprawl onto.
Keep going. Disappear into the crowd. Go find your friends.
And deal with the unmoving, gaping hole in your chest later.
—
—
It takes you awhile to find them, but soon enough, you're back to having the time of your life. The lineup of DJs is all stellar, with only a few misses here and there, even getting Jeongguk to stay on the dance floor longer than you expect.
What's even better? There's no sign of Yoongi. Surrounded by sweaty bodies and flashy grins, you don't catch a single glimpse of him in the crowd.
Good. That's good, right? You wanted this. You wanted to avoid him and run, just like you did the last time.
Your group starts to split up in the commotion of lights and confetti and streamers, but you're fine dancing on your own. With each ebb and flow of music, you lose yourself, letting your heart get swept away by stories of love and loss. Every song holds a piece you understand. Every verse carries the same message.
You aren't alone in being alone.
So embrace it. Let the hurt come later. Smiling wide, you await the next song up, arms thrown in the air with everyone in beautiful togetherness around you.
Then it starts.
The one song you knew you'd hear at some point but sure as fuck didn’t want to.
While people around roar at the familiar opening, you feel like disappearing entirely. Where’s the nearest coastline? You need a rising tide.
As the melancholic notes buzz up your chest, you slowly, quietly, lower both arms to your sides. Around you, the floor moves in sensuous circles and dips, and you envy everyone for not feeling how you feel. This glowing, searing pain setting your chest ablaze until it’s nothing but a pile of cinders, only to be washed away with the waves crashing against your knees.
With each scathing line, your heart cries, remembering exactly why it hit too deep. All those lessons you took that started on a whim. All those sunny afternoons practicing and stumbling about your living room. All those times you were held close and knew there’d be no one else.
Your heart isn't strong enough to stay in the now. It doesn’t want to. It will always remain in the past, on a rooftop gazing into a sea of stars and hoping for a different outcome.
Night, after night, after night.
Suddenly, you’re back in the past, too.
Because a hand, so sure and so steady, settles onto your hip from behind, and your eyes burn when another slides along your bare shoulder. Heat from a body you can sense from anywhere in the fucking universe warms the skin at your back, and you shake as lips touch the shell of your ear to whisper three words that shatter what’s left of your soul,
“One last time.”
You aren't in the past. You're here. And so is he.
Breath whooshing out in a hitch, your throat is in absolute flames as your eyes slide shut. Then you nod, because you can’t think of doing anything else, and you allow him to lead.
And he feels so perfect against you it hurts.
You feel how strong he’s gotten, how sturdy and lean. And yet, you also feel the same soft give you used to feel all those years ago. You know how pliant he could become under your mercy, just like all those times he gave you complete control. If you faced him, you could run your hands along that stomach you’ve kissed every inch of a thousand times over.
But you’re too much of a pathetic coward to turn around.
When you back into him, his quick hiss into that groan you miss so fucking much flips every warning light in your body. But you can’t help it. You know this dance, this connection, this reunion will be the last you will ever have.
He never loved you. You never said goodbye.
Everything that’s left unsaid swirls around you as you move in perfect sync, both your hips moving as one and your hand snaking up and back to grip his neck fuck he feels just like home.
Yoongi… Still feels like home.
A single, hot tear leaks from your eye as you sway, burning a path down your cheek as your other hand closes tight around fingers holding your side. When he grips you even tighter, another tear betrays you, and you feel his lips so close to your neck you expect him to kiss there if he wanted to.
But he doesn’t.
Of course he doesn’t.
So you take what you’re given. A dance. Just one. One last unforgettable dance before your life changes all over again.
Knowing this song by heart, you know it’s approaching the end. The bittersweet last chorus clues you in, and you tense around his neck just a little tighter, hoping Yoongi didn’t catch the need in your fingers for this moment to never end.
Mother Earth can swallow you whole as soon as the last word is sung. You give her your express permission.
Because you feel so hopelessly in love all over again, and you can’t bear your affection to be unreciprocated a second time.
Just like that. Against your deepest, sincerest wishes.
The song dies.
And immediately after, as if your world hasn’t just been upheaved and tossed to the wayside, the next number booms. Everyone on the dance floor cheers again when it’s extremely familiar and a faster tempo. Even more people fill the floor because they need to feel this one in their bones.
And you need nothing else but to leave.
Get out. Go. Yoongi said so, right? One last time. It’s over. This tension between you needed an outlet and that song was the one out you both could use to set it free.
And it’s done. So you start your brisk walk away.
Only for your wrist to be held and your heart to fall out of your ribcage.
Fuck.
When you turn, you forget you’re tear-streaked and full of painful regrets.
And the look on Yoongi’s face heats your soul all the way through.
Because his eyes are unwavering, brows cut deep and mouth completely shut. Over his forehead, tendrils of mussed bangs sweep slow, and his chest rises and falls with every hard, wordless breath he takes.
And you finally get the courage to whisper his name.
Without a word, he slowly pulls you in, not stopping until your hands softly push into his strong chest and your face is inches from his. All heavy bass and bright beats of music fall away. All lights shift until you can only see him.
Time. All that time apart vanishes when you finally feel this close again, his steady expression watching you with an emotion you can’t place but feel ripping at your walls to destroy them.
What is happening? What’s he doing?
Does he know he has the power to hurt you in ten million different ways?
Fingers rise to wipe the sadness from your face, only inviting more to pour from your eyes. “Yoongi,” you whisper again, breaking the dam you’ve been building block by block this whole time, just like you were afraid of. And you can’t fucking stop. “Yoongi…”
Then, when his eyes slide shut, you think he’ll let you go. Why can you only say his name? Why the fuck are you ruining this singular moment that you’ve only dreamed of having wait wait why is he resting his forehead against yours fuck wait—
“You know how long,” he breathes out, “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that again.”
Have mercy.
Your soul finally snaps in two.
You can only say it once more, broken and chipped, before Yoongi grips your jaw and kisses you like it’s his last minute on earth.
And you push back with a ferocity that’s been dormant for years, a magnificent flame never awakened by anyone else. Nothing else. Just him. Only him.
Rivers stream from your eyes as his arms circle you, hands gripping the skin of your back as your nails rake down his. Around you, people dance and bump into your bodies, but neither of you seem to fucking care. No one else exists. The only music you hear is every deep breath Yoongi takes and it’s your favorite, favorite, favorite.
You shouldn’t be doing this. There’s no possible way this doesn’t leave you without a broken heart and a shell of whatever intact spirit you have left.
But goddamn if you don’t stay in the now more than ever.
“I don’t give a shit,” you tumble into his mouth, waiting until he pulls away enough for you to spill every forbidden thought you’ve harbored in your beating chest. “I don’t care if you never loved me. I don’t care if you moved on. I just—just tonight, Yoongi, I need you—”
Your plea is engulfed by another soulshaking push of his lips, and you think that’s the end of it until he tugs away from you before swerving his head around the floor.
“Come here,” he orders, gripping your hand and reminding you just how perfect his fingers slot with yours.
Time. You’re getting more time? Your tears and the burning in your chest don’t quell as you’re led through the crowd. When you get strange or pitied looks, you don’t care. All these perfectly dressed people can fuck off.
When they stare at the man guiding you, that’s what gets your stomach flaring. They can have him. Just after you get one last time to carry you through the rest of your loveless life.
Yoongi suddenly turns to look at you trailing behind, and he waits to bring you in front of his side, now leading you both together through the rest of the packed floor.
Ah. This is the man you remember.
And that just makes everything hurt even more.
Soon, you’re led off the dance floor and through a series of turns, Yoongi heading up a long back staircase before rounding into a hallway of doors before he checks each one.
What are these? Karaoke rooms? Party rooms? You don’t know, but the ache in your body hunches you over, and it takes everything to not crumble before he finally stops and yanks open a door.
“Yoongi, what are you—?”
A dim, neon-lit room is what you come to, and you hear a faint click while noticing the long window looking out into the club below. Different lounge chairs and couches fill the space, and you can see just enough out the glass to know you’re even high above the VIP tables. The room feels exclusive but you don’t get to observe anything else as you’re being pushed into the nearest wall to be liplocked again.
Fuck, he’s gotten even better at this.
Just like you have.
As your dress is gripped tight, your thoughts all blur together in a lustful slurry. How many has he taken to bed after you? Do you remember your own count? Has anyone else made him feel like you do? With a searing green flare, you remember that no one has come close to him. How awfully one-sided would that be if he found someone that completed him.
A veiny hand grips the side of your neck before sliding to your head. “Fuck,” Yoongi grits out. “I… I can’t.”
...What?
No. No no no.
Your heart begins its fast descent. Because if Yoongi doesn’t want this, you have to respect that. As much as you will scream into the night, you’re not gonna stop him if he gets up and leaves.
Because you did. So why shouldn’t he get that same chance to destroy you?
“I get it,” you hitch out, holding his strong wrist with shaky fingers. It’s only fair. This felt too good to be true anyway. “I know.”
“It’s not that.” Yoongi slides his free hand on the wall, holding it at your shoulder. “I just… Fuck, if we do this, I can’t promise I’ll hold back.”
Oh. Fuck that.
You tug the warm silver around his neck. “Then don’t,” you urge to his grunt. “If this is all we get? I don’t fucking care.”
“Even if I t—”
“Do it, Yoongi,” you plead with a gritted cry. “You can do anything to me, whatever it is just do it.”
“Fuck.”
All doubt flees from his eyes as your back gets smushed into the wall, your lips puffed and parting when he places hot, open mouthed kisses down your column.
Hands keep their quest in gathering up your dress. And you make quick work of his belt before pulling, tugging, yanking it out of its holster.
“The fuck,” he shoots out. “Who the fuck taught you that?”
Your eyes flicker to his as you grip the hem of his jeans. “You really wanna know?”
“No.” He switches up on a dime. “Don’t tell me.”
Your lips collide again before he rips his mouth down to attack your chest, nipping at a spot that has you flinching and hand sliding between your legs. When he runs a finger along your underwear, his eyes practically burn out as he growls, “You’re this fucking wet already?”
“I told you,” you gasp out. “I need you.”
Your hand is yanked to the front of his jeans, and shock and emotion completely cover the expanse of your face feeling how unbelievably hard he is.
Unfazed, Yoongi continues kissing up to your shoulder, leaving hot saliva trails all over your skin and bunching your silk in his hands. “Seeing you in this? Lost my shit.”
“You're lying.”
“All fuckin' night."
“Liar.”
Liar, liar. A bold faced lie. You saw him talking to other people. You saw his anger piercing across the club. But you watch as his look levels, and your cheeks sizzle at the way he shifts his jaw,
“I’d never lie to you.”
Shit. Your heart bats eyelashes before you shove it out of frame.
The organ in your chest is a walking liability, especially when it’s connected to your mouth. So there are many, many things you might reveal tonight in the throes of agony and passion. Things you will regret come morning waking to an empty bed.
The best way to not say anything that could potentially do more harm than good? Keep your lips occupied. And that’s exactly what you intend to do.
“We’ll see,” you grit out, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. When Yoongi lets you twist to shove him back against the wall, his eyes flare in dark need when he hisses,
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
To show him how you’ve grown in the years you separated, to show him what he could’ve fucking had.
To show him that you aren’t taking a single bit of this last, serendipitous night for granted.
Kneeling slow, you slide your hands along his clothed chest, kissing his chains exactly how you used to and smearing lipstick all the way down his jersey.
“Fuck…”
Balancing on your heels, you wince at the tight bend in your knees, but you aren’t going down completely because your kneecaps aren’t what they used to be. Fuck that. You can do plenty in a low squat anyway, and he’s seen you look a hell of a lot more awkward many times. “Shit,” you still whisper. “You’re lucky I can’t wait to swallow you.”
A curse flings out of his mouth. “Get up, babe.”
Heart ringing at the name, you reject his order with a harsh, “Shut up.”
You want this, and you know for a fact he does, too. When Yoongi tries to bend, you pull down his underwear, springing his cock free and almost salivating at the sight.
Just like you remember. Everything about him is just how you remember, and yet his body has only gotten stronger and filled out in all the perfect places. Yoongi’s a man now. A real, grown man.
If you both just met tonight, you know he would’ve asked for your name before anything else.
Cut the shit. You are not getting into that now, not when you have him with hands trembling against a wall before you take him in your palm. As soon as you touch, Yoongi expels a deep groan, kicking his head back and gripping the wall with a large hand.
What’s going on? You haven’t even done anything yet. Why does your chest constrict at how sensitive he is? This isn’t the time to relax, but you really can’t help but soften at his complete and utter unravelling.
It’s almost as if nothing’s changed.
Yoongi lowers his gaze, and you lock glistening eyes before you take him in your mouth, slow on the tip and swirling to get it coated and prepped just right. Your hand expertly glides along his solid, slick length, squeezing at the spot you know makes him fold.
“Holy fuck,” he gasps out, hand hesitating to palm your head before balling in a fist against plaster. “Shit, babe..”
Again? Does he even realize what he’s saying? Is he trying to hurt you because if that’s his goal it’s fucking working.
Anger, regret, painful nostalgia drives you forward, sinking his velvety ridges inside your throat and proving to him how much better you’ve gotten. With every plunge, you hollow your cheeks, already feeling the telltale searing at your eyes and spiraling up your throat. His endless stream of sounds and praise tumble down your skin, and you keep sucking mercilessly even when his hips buck and his eyes squeeze tight.
Releasing with a loud pop, you feel a huge strain on your soaked legs as you adjust, tilting your drenched chin to bury your face in his sack to lick and take it in.
“Baby..”
At this new, old nickname, you grip his cock tighter, swallowing him whole again just to hide your real tears behind the ones streaming from taking him in so deep.
More. You give more, and more, and more. Time will take away everything else so what you can give is all you got.
Hands grip your head in desperation, and you let Yoongi push you onto his length until your airway is closed tight, nose and cheeks flush against the skin of his thighs. His scent is heady and just like you remember, if only slightly different due to the new musky cologne he’s probably sticking with nowadays. Not like you can focus on it too long because your airway is screaming to be freed again.
Tears leak over your lashes as want slicks your cunt, and you hear syllables that could be words before you finally give his legs a telltale tap.
Oxygen floods your lungs as more tears stream from your eyes, lips sopping wet and saliva leaving your chin in strings. Gulping, you go right back to it, taking him in again and pumping his slick ridges quick.
“Get up,” he commands with a rasp so deep it rumbles your chest. “Get the fuck up.”
You’re pulled upward so fast your legs cry at the bends, and you’re spun so quick the wall hits your shoulderblade and you cry out into a furious mouth.
Pleasure and pain intertwine as you match his intensity, raking at his shoulders and clawing into his hair. With each kiss, he reaches deeper into your throat, and you know he can taste himself on your tongue with the way he claims it in waves.
For a moment, there’s no one else in the world. You aren’t in a dimly lit lounge in a club away from home. You’re right here in his bedroom, getting slung and dragged along his wall and knocking every one of his plaques and posters off-kilter.
“Yoongi, I—”
“I know.”
Without further prompt, Yoongi wrenches at your dress to shove it up to your hip, burning a path along your leg with expert fingers. As you hook itover his smooth forearm, your lips part when his other hand slides between your thighs.
You know your underwear is soaked all the way through.
And now, so does he. “Goddamn.”
“I can’t take it anymore,” you gasp out. “Just—”
“Are you still on the—”
“Yes.”
Shifting the sodden material to the side, Yoongi wastes no time, angling himself to rub over your folds and moaning in tandem with you because holy fuck this already feels so—
“This fucking pussy,” Yoongi grits out, sliding in perfectly and so smoothly it’s like neither of you ever left each other's sides. Your high moan cuts into the cherry ceiling when he sounds like he’s just struck gold, “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Yoongi, please—”
He’s talking absolute nonsense. Gonna be? How is that possible when you won’t see him again?
All questions vaporize when Yoongi’s hips snap up, launching you up the wall again, and again, and again. Pops of need and lust zoom straight to your head, sparkling out of your eyes when you feel his lips smothering your neck.
You’re in heaven. You’re in hell. It feels so good it hurts. Caught in a flurry of need and anguish, your nails rake down his shoulders before scratching at his arms, shivering at his outright growl,
“Don’t do that.”
“Oh, I—”
“Do that shit again and I’ll come.”
Shit. You don’t understand how he could be so shameless. You’re trying your hardest to keep it together and here he is saying whatever the fuck he wants? If you let your mouth just as loose as he has there’s no telling what you’d be shouting out.
But you settle for an apology for now, just in case you actually hurt him, “Sorry.. My nails are super long right now.”
“I noticed.” Another thrust launches you into the sky. “They look good but they hurt like hell.”
“Oh.. Sorry again.” A moan escapes when he shoves into you, mind hazy because he’s still placating you.
“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.” Devilish, he breaks into a slow smirk you haven’t seen in ages, and your ribcage folds inward and inward. “I’m just not fucking done with you yet.”
Oh. He doesn’t want this to end, either.
Now that changes every fucking cog in your brain.
You keep yourself upright as long as you can, arms slung around his neck as you both move together, dip and lean together, breathe so hard it scorches your chest together. Every muscle in your planted leg burns, but it’s nothing compared to the stare you have connected to his eyes. With each deep thrust, his brows furrow and his teeth peek from his lips, and every groan you hear goes right into a chest for safe keeping. Right next to all the other memories you want to lock away.
Yoongi’s pace starts to quicken the more your mewls encourage him. What was sensuous is now unbearable and, as your dress threatens to shift, you know your breasts will be on full display soon, and Yoongi bites his lip with a grunt with his next hard thrusts.
Soon enough, you feel a chill on your nipples as they’re freed, moaning to the ceiling when Yoongi immediately heats one whole with his tongue. “Baby!”
Goddamn it. You weren’t supposed to address him like that, too. But maybe it’s better than saying his name because every time you do there’s a charge sparking the air.
So you decide to switch, moaning the same word over and over as he licks and sucks, dragging his teeth along your exposed chest and littering it with heavy proof of his lips. Just like the lipstick on his jersey, you know he’s claimed his own marks on your skin.
And neither of you will be able to hide them when you part.
Expelled tension flits about in light streaks as you move with him, slick with exertion and tight with muscles working in double time. You both know this is the last time and you’re acting like it. And you send a prayer to the heavens to let time stop just to keep holding him in your arms.
Suddenly, your heel slips, and you yelp before strong arms keep you upright. “Shit, sorry.”
“I got you.”
Summer sunsets smother your vision as you let him guide you from the wall, gently placing your leg down and leading you to a sofa. Everything simmers to a lull, and you have a moment to catch your breath and steady your racing, racing heartbeat.
When Yoongi sits on vibrant cushions, you admire the way his biceps fill those sleeves right as he tugs his jersey clean off. And you have to fight to not teeter over, continuing to stare in awe at him, so perfectly filled in some placed and chiseled in others that you start to wonder how you even left in the first place.
Of course you know why you did. So why bring it up now when you’re right here? Why agonize over the past when you’re standing right between his legs?
“Baby.”
You flick your gaze back up to his.
“Stay with me.”
Tears zing up your eyes as you nod, heart plugging your throat as you mount his toned thighs. When you feebly place hands on his searing shoulders, you hate the way your words shake on the way out, “Stay in the now. I know.”
Yoongi’s eyes shine with a light in them you weren’t sure was there before. But you can’t wait long enough for confirmation because your heart is keeling over with ache.
He remembers. He remembers. Does that mean he’s thought about you, too?
Focus on something else. No time to think about the past, nor the future. No time to notice that the way Yoongi looks at you now is so heartbreakingly similar to how he worshipped you before. Back when things were perfectly imperfect. Back when you were sure he loved you before he proved to you that he didn’t.
“Still so beautiful.”
Liquid fire fills your eyes as your breath hitches, guiding his length to your entrance before sinking onto him with no issue. When you both groan, you let your glittery vision watch the ceiling instead of him when you admit,
“You look so fucking good in red.”
There’s no response as you breathe, angling yourself to feel him deep and moving in a slow push and pull along his legs. Your thin chain tightens as your neck strains above Yoongi’s head, and you wish you had the guts to look down at the ones around his neck. They’re already deadly resting on his clothes, but rocking against the flush of his skin is how you love them the most.
Still, you can’t bear to look. You know you’ll lose yourself in those eyes if you dare stare long enough. Because what you saw earlier looked too close to longing, which would be impossible because that only exists in yours.
“And,” you whoosh out in tired breaths, gripping your fingers on him a little tighter, “Looks like you.. finally hit the gym.. like I kept fucking saying.”
A puff of warm laughter hits your chest before sweaty hands grip your waist. “Always said I would.”
“But you never did,” you huff out, grinding on him harder and melting at his little sounds. One thing you will keep giving this man credit for: he isn’t ashamed to be just as vocal as you are. The more people you ended up meeting? The rarer and rarer you realized that bedroom quality was.
“I did eventually,” he grits, holding you in place and surging into you so hard you yelp to the stars. “Didn’t I.”
“Fuck you,” you bite, moaning when your argument dies the moment his tongue swirls around a nipple again. What’s left comes out a garbled mess of a groan, and you hate, hate, hate the dark chuckle against your breast. Partly because he’s a constant problem, and partly because you yearn to see his smile again.
“What else is new about you,” Yoongi suddenly rasps, hands lowering to rest on your hips as you ride him. “Aside from clearly getting better at this.”
Lost in lust and surprised at his question, you finally peer down to see him looking up already. “No thanks to you.”
And your world stills as he doesn’t respond right away, any hint of sunlight fading from his features. “No thanks to me,” he slowly agrees.
Fuck. You didn’t mean to do that.
Slowly slipping hands from his body, you rise from his length and mourn the disconnect before standing. When Yoongi only regards you with eyes on fire, you slowly turn and rest on his thighs.
He’s not gonna like this. But he asked.
You turn your head before slowly sliding one side of your dress completely down, revealing a rough scar on your back a little lower than your shoulder.
And your soul immediately clenches when Yoongi heats your back with his body heat. “The fuck?” His fingers feel so light, so protective as they caress your mark. It’s confusing, and you abhor it as much as you need it. “What happened?”
“I fell,” you whisper. “Pretty hard.”
Details of how and when it happened don’t matter. But he wanted to know what was new, and the scar on your heart isn’t exactly readily available to show.
“I did, too.”
What? At his voice over your shoulder, you strain your neck to see him. “When?”
Why is he kissing your scar? Exes don’t do that. Exes don’t do anything you’re doing right now.
“Before you left.”
Now you feel worse. When the hell did that happen? Why didn’t you know about it? “Sorry,” you breathe out with sorrow. “I didn’t know.”
Another slow, calm graze of his mouth tightens your throat. Because he’s since moved across your back, lips now touching where your shoulderblade hit the wall.
“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “I never told you.”
He never told you many things.
Stepping into dangerous territory is making you regret showing him your worst moment. So you shift your ass to push over his cock, feeling it throb against you when you wisp out the worst reminder, “We don’t have much time.”
“Mm.”
When you feel his hands shift your dress, you lift up and allow you both to effortlessly situate you back where you wanna be. Your back hits his chest as he guides himself up into your folds, and your head kicks back to lie across his shoulder like the red silk flowing over your thigh.
“Just like you said,” you start to whisper, eyes already welling with oncoming regret, “One last time.” Every syllable just as melancholic as the notes of your favorite song.
When Yoongi starts, your heart weeps at the pace. Because it reminds you of better times, sensuous and intentional and convincing you to confess all over again. It takes everything not to speak, your moans escaping in weak puffs and your hips swelling in a calm wave.
This is too much. This is way too fucking much and you finally break when his name leaves you like a prayer. “Harder,” you beg. “Please, please go—”
You’re cut off as soon as his hips jolt up, flinging you to life before going at a menacing pace. Yes yes yes this is the one you need. The one you crave. The one that leaves no room for feelings and decisions. Your dress threatens to slip off your sides with each pound, slowly rolling and accentuating your chest in seconds. “Shit, holy shit!”
“Fuck, you’re so tight—”
“So fucking big—”
As if knowing exactly what you want, your arms are held back, locked into place as you’re under the absolute mercy of his dick slamming up into you over and over, skin slapping obscene and thighs burning from the stretch across his lap.
Yoongi knows you better than anyone else. A frustrated growl tears from your lips as you arch so far back you connect clouds, and a strong forearm wraps across your stomach to pin you so fucking close you may as well mold right into him. Passion streaks down your limbs as sweat beads along your skin, the heady scent of sex and forbidden fruit swirling into your nose.
More. More more more he’s giving you everything. As your arms are freed, you can only grip the other forearm slinging over your upper chest, nails digging into creamy skin and leaving angry, cherry red lines.
Words, praise, everything under the sun is being spewed onto your slick shoulders as you mash your teeth and eyes tight. You even hear a word you’ve been wanting to hear for years, but that can’t possibly be true because there’s no way Yoongi would ever—
A hand closes around your throat, and your eyes fly back into your head.
You’re so close. Fucking hell, your thighs are singing and your throat is burning and your abdomen strains from the arch but you need this release. You need this tidal wave to consume you. If only to forget for a split second that Yoongi isn’t—
“—yours.”
What?
Another fierce round of thrusts almost topples the two of you over, and white hot pressure paints the edges of your eyes as you strain for breath. You’re so close. So fucking close it’s right within reach.
But it all vanishes in a snap as Yoongi stops, and you cry with a teary rasp, “No, please, baby—”
“Not yet.” He hauls you up, making you sit straight and facing away yet again. “You know what to do.”
Fuck. There’s no way he remembers this, too. You flinch at the slap to your breast before shakily getting up, legs wobbly but positioning yourself on his cock perfectly before sliding down.
Both heels planted on the ground, you brace his strong knees and work his slick length, eyes rolling at his breathy groans and curses leaving his mouth in spurts.
You know exactly what to do to make him lose his goddamn mind. So you do it all, swirling and swerving your hips while flicking off your silk, showing him the best view of your ass as it bounces. Your legs tire, but you don’t, and you use the music leaking into the room to set your sickening, aggravating pace.
“Fuck, baby..”
“You asked for it.”
“Don’t regret a goddamn thing.”
You can tell he’s on the brink of madness, and you can only picture the way his head thumps back on the couch, mouth torn by his teeth and brows furrowed to hell. His muscles are probably contracting in waves, including the ones in his perfect, bulging arms.
“You shouldn’t,” you hum. “Since this is all you get.”
Without a word, hands reach out and tug you backward, and you’re up on your feet and tripping before your hands slap the firm cushions of the next chair over. “What the fu—”
To your absolute delight, Yoongi plants a foot on the chair before gripping the pliant dip of your hips, pushing tears from your eyes with each quick, deep thrust he rams forward. Stars dance along your vision as drool leaks endlessly from your mouth. “Baby—! Fuck!”
“This pussy’s so.. Fuck.” You’re shoved so far down that your moist cheek smushes into firm cushion. “Say my name.”
“Babe—”
“As much as I wanna hear that every fucking day”—Yoongi shoves into you again and keeps his cock thrumming inside your cunt—“Right now, I’m gonna hear my name. So say it.”
“Yoongi—”
His deep, gritted command makes you snap, “Louder.”
“Yoongi—!”
You feel it. You’re at the brink again. With every snap of his skin pounding against yours, you’re inching closer and closer and closer to the edge, waiting for the fall that will end you. “Baby, I’m gonna—”
Firm arms haul you upward and you’re both travelling the room again, legs skittering until you hit back first into the nearest wall fuck that took your breath out.
Yoongi’s breath catches as he slams a hand against the plaster to steady, face burrowed in your neck and hair brushing harsh against your ear as he buries inside of you again. Fire spews from his mouth as you feel his cock squeeze up into your cunt, and his arm tenses tight behind your knee as he commands,
“Come for me, love.”
You don’t know what the fuck you just heard but you know he didn’t just say—
“I said come.”
Instinct. Pure, animalistic instinct surges your orgasm forward in a high crest, breaking onto shore in hot, white waves as you tremble around him. Your cunt squeezes and tugs, your poor leg threatening collapse as Yoongi roughly hums so deep against your chest. Pleasure, starlight, the warmth of an afternoon faraway heats your body just right, and one crash leads into the next so effortlessly that tears zip down your cheeks.
Your name rips from Yoongi’s throat.
And it’s enough to send you right over the edge again.
How the fuck is this possible how the hell can someone break you with your own name how can Yoongi have this much of a hold on you when it’s been literal years? It doesn’t make any sense and the cries into his neck as he holds you close are akin to sobs. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re your way of mourning everything that could’ve been. Everything that will never be.
But at least you were able to have him, shaking in your grasp and pulsing in your core. One more night. One last time.
“Fuck it, come here.”
Your sobs are yanked from the wall again, and you don’t know up from left as you're thrown onto a sofa, back curling as Yoongi tugs your head upright. Your tears slide down your neck, wetting your necklace as he breathes out,
“Again.”
Fuck! Your cunt tightens around him as you gasp out, “I can’t… I can’t—”
“Don’t lie to me,” Yoongi growls, clutching your chin and flinging hot spit onto your face that catapults you into another level of need you’ve never been to holy fuck. Smothering it against your cheeks, he taps you once and it brings destruction. “I said again.”
All your limbs lock at the bends as you throw your head in a strained cry, a release that overpowers all the others flushing through your veins and igniting beams out of your sweaty chest. Wave upon wave crashes into your soul and your ears ring so loud you can barely hear or see Yoongi watching from above. You can’t. You’re too caught in chaos. You can’t see the way he looks at you.
“Come for me, Yoongi,” you suddenly plead, “Let go.”
“Let me pull—”
“Do it now,” you hitch out. “Come inside.”
A prolonged moan leaves his mouth as he launches into a pace that has you screaming, teeth gritted to hell and fingers gripping you so hard you know they’re going to bruise. But who cares when your skin will match your heart? Who gives a fuck about anything else anymore?
Beautiful weight crushes your chest as Yoongi’s body turns erratic, jolting and seizing up. And you know he’s racing to his own cliff to dive and you’re gonna be right there to catch him. Slinging your arms around his drenched back and fisting the wet base of his hair, you’re already ready and waiting with harsh harsh breaths, because you're about to break him.
“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to his ear, ravaging his slick neck with your lips and scraping teeth over his ear just how he likes, hearts beating as one when you stop just to connect your forehead to his. With a singular, throaty gasp, you plead,
“One last time.”
Yoongi’s sudden release sends a pulse through the air, and your core beats and beats with each pump of essence he spews inside. Heaven and earth collide with stars as you hold tight, and your thighs shake as he finishes filling you with the longest orgasm you have ever, ever seen him endure.
The float down doesn’t come quick, both of you softly suspended in time and air. Steam radiates from your skin and flows from your mouths with each breath, and beads of sweat slip down his jewelry as he stares with a deep vastness in his eyes.
Why is he so quiet?
Why are you so quiet?
Why do you feel like crying again?
With one more shaken breath, Yoongi swallows, chest heaving right after as he struggles to gather himself. His shoulders are so broad when he moves under your hands, closing his eyes as soon as your brows touch,
“I know it’s over.”
Your heart flares.
“But I need you to know.”
Stars light the night sky.
“I love you. And I always will.”
A sob breaks your silence, hand flying to cup your mouth before you hunch forward into his trembling chest. Days and days of pent up anger and sadness spill out all at once, and you weep into his chest because you can’t bear to let go.
“I know you’ve moved on,” Yoongi continues with a shake to his words, not pausing at the way you choke and weep. “But I’ve regretted never saying it back then. And I’m not gonna get another chance.”
What the fuck is happening. What does he mean? What does he mean? Your body can’t stop as it locks and locks, sobs wracking your chest because this is fucked up and confusing and everything you’ve been wanting for the longest time. This is all you wanted. And you only get it at the very end.
“I didn’t even say goodbye,” you shake out. When you lift your trembling head, his lips are already so achingly close to yours and his hand moves to steady your neck. “I left and never came back.”
When his eyes are the only ones that speak, you start to spill everything out, words tumbling into one another and pinging to the floors around your tired feet,
“I tried so hard to forget you. Tried so, so hard to stop loving you. Every day, I’d wake up wanting nothing to do with you, only to see you in my dreams and remember how it felt to—to—”
Bright red flares across Yoongi’s eyes as he keeps listening, jaw pulsing and brows so tense.
“At first, I was so angry. At you, at myself, at the world for letting me love you when you never loved me back. But now, I know what I did was wrong. And I regret it every day that I live.”
When your face contorts in sorrow, Yoongi brings a hand up to wipe your cheek, thumb brushing away your tears. “I did, babe.” Your breath stops and your eyes splay wide. “Just never had the guts to say it first.”
First.
Yoongi loved you all the way back then? Before that starry night that’s kept your heart captive for so long? It pulses against your chest, ramming and ramming into your ribcage to get to his.
Only one question barrels through your mind. “…Why?”
Yoongi looks from one eye to the next. “Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”
Everything clicks into place and you suddenly feel so, so upset. You are going to fight this man to the moon and back. Or, better yet, you’re gonna fight him to the moon and leave him there. “You think I thought that way?”
“No.” He sighs, chains shaking over your chest. “And I replay that night over, and over. Knowing that I’d do anything to go back and tell you how I felt.”
Yoongi never lived in the past. He was always adamant about staying in the present. So knowing he’d been stuck there right next to you makes your chest collapse before slipping down into the deep sea.
“When I saw you today? Every day I told myself I’d get over you didn’t matter. Every reason I told myself I couldn’t be with you was bullshit.”
Your throat constricts again.
“But when you kept running.. I knew you were done with me for good.” Yoongi’s hand falls. “And there was nothing I could do to change your mind.”
“Yoongi…”
All this time, you both had your own reasons for avoiding each other. Everything you fed into your logical side was just a ploy to project your feelings, and it turns out Yoongi did the exact same thing.
He said he wouldn’t be able to hold back if you did this tonight. And now, you’re blessed to know exactly what he meant.
So you also let everything go.
“I was never done with you,” you choke out, seeing a swath of emotion brush across his face. “Because I’m still in love with you, and I will be even if you walk out of here without me.”
Musk and heaven consumes you in a hug, and you cry into a bare shoulder as you hear Yoongi vow something so full of longing and conviction you hold him tighter,
“I’m not going anywhere else without you.”
Music continues to pulse outside, lasers continue to dance around the room. But you see nothing but the light in your lover's eyes.
And it’s a beautiful, beautiful sunrise.
—
—
When you both finally part, it’s only to let him get dressed and for you to use the nearest restroom. In the quiet wake of your emotional storm, Yoongi walks you to the window spanning the far wall of the lounge, and you both watch the club floors move and sway from above. And it’s only now that you feel shy. It’s only now that you feel nervous seeing everyone below.
But a thought occurs to you that dashes all others away,
“How did you know to come up here?”
Yoongi gives you a look that you raise a brow at. “I…” He sighs. “Let’s just say I know my way around this place.”
Ah. Of course. “Come here often?”
“Not for the reasons you think.”
Your brows are fully bent now. “…Huh?”
“I own the building.” Hands busy, he adjusts his jersey as if he didn’t drop the biggest shock of the century on your toes. “And a couple others in the city.”
What.
Pause pause pause hold the fucking phone.
Yoongi lives in this city? He owns what? This is a little too much to take in, but you have time. And you’re gonna hound him for every single detail of his life that you’ve missed.
You have time. Your prayer had been answered tenfold. And you send endless gratitude to the sky.
But suddenly, a second realization pierces your mind and you lightly shove him. When Yoongi looks at you in shock, you yell out, “You asked what’s new and I showed you a scar! Now you tell me you own a fucking building?”
Your lover laughs, and the sun rises even higher over your horizon. Ducking your next swipe, he’s already back to irritating you again as he clarifies, “I said more than one—”
“Oh, fuck you!”
He rushes forward and gathers you in his arms, not caring if anyone sees your embrace in the window. “You wanna go again?”
Your face heats as your eyes roll heavenward, exactly where you feel like you are in this moment. “I have a pretty big hotel room,” you divulge. “And no one to share that bedroom with unless someone else catches my eye tonight, so…”
Yoongi’s eyes crease as he kisses your forehead. “Fuck that. Take me home.”
Your giggles into his chin bubble out in pink, poppable spheres.
As magnificent and dreamlike all of this has been, you're starting to find logic again. Because more than one question badgers into your mind.
How long have you been gone? Have your friends not even checked on you? Did they try? Did they leave do they even still have the... table…
Wait.
Everything else clicks into place.
The random city everyone flew to that Jeongguk picked. The infamous club and dress code you heard about from Taehyung. The table that Hoseok bragged about getting…
“...You're the one that got us VIP.”
That stupid, annoying, ridiculous grin. Of course this is how you'd be reminded of how much you love to hate it.
“Now come dance with me,” he says with teeth still flashing wide. “Let’s see if you ever got that step.”
Eyes sparkling, you let him lead you down and onto the dance floor, moving through until you’re suddenly next to your friends that shout and holler at your arrival together.
“All of you are crazy!” You yell out, tears in your smile as they burst into laughter. “Why didn’t you just tell me!”
Yoongi grabs hold of you before chuckling into your ear. “I told them not to.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t know if you were really done.” He grips you tight, face falling into seriousness. “But I heard you broke up with someone a month ago. This was my only chance and I took it.”
Holy fucking shit.
“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek with purpose. “I love you.”
Yoongi’s cheeks rise high, dimples prominent and eyes carrying the light of the universe. Lips close, he responds how he wanted to the first time.
And you seal your devotion with a kiss full of starlight.
“Ugh, here we go.”
“Already at it again, huh.”
"Figures. Didn't you see his jersey?"
“Get another room—!”
Suddenly, the same song that used to haunt you comes on once more, but this time, you welcome it with a swell of freedom in your chest. The waves of your mind calm, washing onto an empty beach and fading into a mesmerizing valley of blue.
Yoongi grins as he holds your hand, and you can't help but stretch your mouth wide as you both immerse into the crowd, moving and spinning and stepping perfectly together on every beat. Laughter and joy fills the space between your hearts as you all cheer, sharing this infinite moment together as fate intended.
In a beautiful, unforgettable dance.
-
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fin :)
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hi lovelies what did we think !! | main masterlist
a/n: so don't ask how i managed to write all of this in a single day (now two) lol i think this madrid yoongi broke me. anyways, here's the sidequest that became the main quest for a bit! i'm back to writing three tangerines so 3tan13 will be finished here real soon :D thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoyed this irresistible ex turned lover yoongiiiii :DD did i cry? yes. can you prove it? no!!!!
a/n 2: as always, reblogs and comments and asks are always super appreciated! i love sharing things with you guys and a big part of that is getting to hear what you all liked and what you're excited about. happy to chat, and thank you for reading!
++ feedback box:
⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!
⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think!
⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like!
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could I ask for a BTS reacting to reader doing topless at the beach? thank you 💕
(not a minor btw!!!!!!!!!)
a/n: Omg I appreciate you telling me you're not a minor!
warnings: mdni, 18+, boyfriend! BTS, dirty talk, these are hc, suggestive touching, pet names (baby, my love, etc.), public beach, nude beach, private beach, a boat, allude to bj, allude to m-st-rb-t-ng (f. rec), allude to smut, mentions of dumbification, all boys down bad, skinny dipping, teasing, etc.
wc: 1.7k+
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
Namjoon - When you go topless, showing Namjoon your pretty tits, his mind blanks.
He knows deep down he should probably be worried about someone seeing you partially naked, or be smug to show you off to anyone who might see you, but Namjoon doesn't think.
He sees your breasts, and his mind shuts off, or better yet, goes into autopilot. He doesn't even give you a chance to reach for the sunscreen before his body is rolling on top of yours. The beach umbrella covers you both from the left, but Namjoon's body covers yours entirely as he finds his hips between your open plush thighs.
"Joon-" You can't even finish saying his name when you feel his cock harden, barely separated by his swimtrunks and your bikini bottoms. And then it's your turn to have your mind blank because Namjoon's lips are sucking one of your nipples into his wet mouth while his cock is throbbing against your covered, puffy folds.
He uses his tongue to flick, lick, and lap the nub until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and your fingers are threading into his hair to pull him closer.
He makes you forget where you are. The only reason you two came to this beach was to relax, and Namjoon now planned to do that while sucking on your pretty titties. Once he was satisfied that you were wet and wanting, he planned to drag you back to the car to fuck you stupid and take you home to do it again. He wasn't going to last long for this beach day, but he was going to make it up to you.
Jin - You're at the beach, but on Jin's boat, far out in the ocean. You can see the many colorful dots of people lounging around on the sand, waddling into the ocean, or walking to find a place to tan, and you're happy that you get the privacy of relaxing with your boyfriend alone.
You knew that he most likely brought you onto this trip so he could go fishing while still spending time with you, and you were more than happy to come along. You didn't always fish with your boyfriend; sometimes, you would take advantage of the small yacht to tan or read inside, enjoying the soft waves lapping at the boat as you got lost in your latest book.
Today, you decided to tan first.
Jin was barely two feet away from where you lay, his posture relaxed as the sun beamed down on both of you. It was a perfect day. And you hadn't even realized he was watching you and not the ocean when you slipped your top off, closing your eyes and sighing happily. Your hand was resting just under your breast, and you were about to move it to your side when Jin spoke up.
He's soft but firm as his eyes rake over you slowly, his tongue licking his lips as he hums. "Move your hand up."
You furrow your eyebrows, blinking over at your boyfriend in confusion until you see the way his eyes hood and his cock twitch under your gaze.
"I want you to touch yourself for me, Baby. Move your hands up."
Jin's eyes stay on your pretty tits, ready to show you another way to relax, waiting for you to follow his orders. And you're always so good at taking his orders.
Yoongi - The strings to your swimsuit are already undone as you lie on top of your beach towel. You're lying on your stomach, resting your head on your arms as the sun rays beam down on you, and you're pretty positive you could nap just like this.
Yoongi is lying right next to you, but in the shade of the beach umbrella you two brought. His hair was wet from the ocean after you two had been swimming around for an hour before, trying to spot little schools of fish, and now, after another layer of sun lotion was rubbed on you, you were tanning as your boyfriend took in the beautiful day.
Waves lapped at the shoreline, the clouds were fluffy in the sky, and for the amazing day it was today, hardly anyone was on the beach but the two of you. It was perfect, and Yoongi didn't think it could get any better until it was time for you to flip over.
Your pretty tits grab all of Yoongi's attention the moment you turn over, making his lazy grin turn into an amused smirk. "If you wanted my attention, Baby, all you had to do was ask."
His teasing made you grin, your eyes rolling playfully as you shook your head. But then Yoongi was leaning closer, his thumb brushing over one of your nipples, and making you suck in a breath as he chuckled.
"I think you should take a break from the sun, c'mere, let me help you cool off."
Hobi - The day was warm, the ocean was cool, and Hobi was spending his free day with you on the beach. He wanted to have you all to himself; the long days of his job keeping him busy and away had taken a toll on him, so any chance he could have with you, he was going to take it.
It's why he lugged the beach towels, the umbrella, the sunscreen, etc., while you took care of the picnic basket full of snacks and drinks for both of you to share.
Hours of sun, sand, and swimming had left Hoseok tanner, his smile brighter, and your eyes gleaming as he swam closer to you. You two weren't far from the shoreline, but you were far from people, and it's why you forwent your top.
Your giggles rang in his ears as Hobi's eyes took you in. You were wet, hair drenched with ocean water, droplets sliding down your neck and into the valley of your breasts before joining back into the ocean. Your smile was mischievous, a knowing sparkle swirling in your eyes as you took in the way Hobi's breath caught.
He had pulled you in closer, his hands brushing along the curve of your breasts as your own hand teased the top of his swim trunks. He wanted to know if you had taken your swim bottoms off, too, suddenly wishing he was home alone with you instead of on this beach as your hand slipped under his swimtrunks in the ocean to grab his aching cock.
If you wanted to play, then Baby, he'll play. His cock was already growing hard under your touch, his pupils dilating as you gave him another playful giggle.
Jimin - Jimin is just finishing setting up your spot on the beach when you take your top off.
You two had taken a drive to a little trail that led to a private beach. It was the perfect getaway after both of you had the busiest workweek and had finally made it to the weekend.
Good weather, and belting to your favorite songs with your loved one had cured multiple long days at your day job, and feeling the sand underneath your feet had revived the energy you hadn't realized was depleted until now.
And it's how you end up taking a leap, untying the strings around your back and neck, and allowing the thin fabric to slip off your body as you look back at Jimin with a grin.
He watched as your grin grew bigger, his shocked face amusing you to bend over and slip your swim bottoms off next. "Catch me if you can!" You taunted, and then you were off, racing into the ocean with him short-circuiting under the umbrella he had carried all the way here.
It takes him three blinks to realize what you've said, and then his grin matches yours, and his swim trunks are pooling at his ankles as he chases after you. Your laughter rings in his ears, pushing him forward, eager to hear it again.
Taehyung - The moment you are topless on the beach is the exact moment Taehyung contemplates how he can convince you to follow him back to the car.
He doesn't care if anyone sees you; if anything, it makes a confident and smug grin dance on his lips because you're his, and he's proud to show you off.
Honestly, he isn't above fucking you in front of everyone if that's what you want. And he does ask you as he kneels between your legs, dipping his head down to lick a stripe up the valley of your breasts with a sparkle in his eyes. "You want to play, Baby?"
His tongue swirls the question mark over one of your nipples, his teeth grazing the little nub just to see you whimper in response.
"Are you going to take everything off? Want me to help you?" His fingers play with the strings of your bikini bottoms, brushing along your inner thighs until his knuckles are dragging over your puffy folds. "I can use my mouth, if you'd like?"
Taehyung forfeits the idea of sneaking you into the car. You're the one who caused his cock to harden, twitching pathetically in his swimtrunks as he presses it into your thigh. Now, he expects you to solve it.
Jungkook - Any thoughts in his head disappear the minute you take your top off at the beach.
You two were here to enjoy the sunny day, a little beach weekend if you will, where you two had planned to laze about on the beach and do nothing else.
But Jungkook's plan to swim around is immediately put onto the back burner in his mind as you lie back on your beach towel, topless, and looking like his wettest dream. "Fuck you're gorgeous." Jungkook is brought to his knees, his hands reaching for your waist and sliding up your sides until he can cup your pretty tits in his hand.
"Babe, I'm just trying not to create any tan lines." You giggle and then gasp as his fingers pinch your nipples, pulling them softly until your cute cunt clenches needily in response.
"Yeah? Are you gonna strip completely naked then, and show everyone your pretty body?" His hands move down from your tits and over your stomach to your bikini bottoms, teasing the little strings keeping the fabric covering the one thing he wanted most right now. "Are you gonna show me your pretty pussy, too? I've always wanted to fuck you on the beach, Baby. Want me to fuck you right here, right now?"
대박 - you made it to the end!
Tell me about it. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated ♡ . Tumblr is based on reblogs, not likes, and they help writers like me to get a better reach. Thank you for your support!
◦ summary ↠ a petty feud with your annoyingly hot neighbor takes a dangerous turn when your newly purchased vibrator ends up delivered to his door. turns out, rivalry has never been hotter.
◦ pairing ↠ jungkook x reader
◦ word count ↠ 7.8k
◦ genre ↠ fluff, smut
◦ content warning(s) ↠ enemies to lovers au, neighbor!jungkook, suggestive/explicit content, dirty talk, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, f. and m. receiving oral sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, toy usage (?), praise, degradation, edging, rough sex, dom!jungkook
a/n: hi, ik it's been a while but i've returned yet again lol. feel free to leave requests in my asks!
masterlist
You had only just moved into the apartment complex a few weeks ago, and already, your neighbor Jungkook was making life difficult. It wasn’t like he was rude or anything—no, he was worse. He was annoyingly charming, frustratingly loud, and had this way of getting under your skin without even trying.
It started the first night you moved in. The walls of the apartment were thin, but you figured it wouldn’t be too bad. That is, until you heard it: the music. The bass rattling your walls like a storm, the thumping sound of a beat that could only come from someone trying to annoy their neighbors.
You had just gotten settled in, ready to enjoy a quiet evening after the chaos of unpacking, when the incessant noise hit. You had tried ignoring it. Really, you did. But at some point, the music started to get personal.
Not only were you adjusting to the cramped space, but you also had to contend with the infernal noise coming from the apartment next door, Jungkook’s apartment. You never even got his full name before, but you knew one thing for sure: he was the absolute worst neighbor.
First, it was the music. Then it was the random late-night stomping. But it was his incessant banging around at all hours that really set you off.
After another sleepless night, you’d had enough. You grabbed a sticky note, scribbled down a polite but pointed complaint, and pinned it to his door. “Can you please keep it down at night? Some of us have to work in the morning. Thanks.” You’d even put a little smiley face to soften the tone. You were trying to be nice… but that didn’t last long.
The next morning, you woke up to the sight of another sticky note. This one was stuck right on your door. It read, “Could you vacuum at 3 a.m. next time? Really missed that.” Along with a poorly drawn picture of a vacuum cleaner and a smug little stick-figure Jungkook. The nerve! You balled up your fist in frustration and immediately shot a text to your friend, Sana, cursing the day you ever moved into this building.
The next day, you'd decided to try your luck at outwitting him by leaving your own note, more direct this time, with a bold request to just turn the volume down. But no sooner had you left the apartment, you returned to see another note from Jungkook. This time, a sarcastic drawing of a pair of noise-canceling headphones. Underneath, a message: “I’ll wear these next time I clean so I don’t disturb you.”
This went on for days, escalating to you making sure you were extra loud while doing chores with obnoxious vacuuming, running the blender, even banging around in the kitchen. Each time, a new sarcastic note would appear on your door.
You were beginning to hate this guy.
And yet, every time you thought you were done with him, he’d show up again.
One morning, you stepped out of your apartment to find him locking his door. Of course, his timing was impeccable.
“Oh, grumpy neighbor alert,” Jungkook greeted with a smirk, his voice dripping with mockery. “Let me guess, you’re about to yell at me for existing too loudly?”
You shot him a glare. “Don’t tempt me.”
Instead of walking away, the two of you ended up standing there, bickering over the most absurd things, from whose turn it was to clean the shared laundry machines to who had left a takeout box in the trash room for too long.
“For the record, that takeout wasn’t mine,” he said smugly, crossing his arms.
“Right, because you’re just so clean and considerate,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.
“I am, actually,” he replied with an infuriatingly calm shrug. “Unlike you, who seems to think stomping is an Olympic sport.”
“I wouldn’t stomp so much if you didn’t blast your music like you’re hosting a festival,” you shot back, stepping past him with a huff.
“You’re just mad because your playlists couldn’t sell out a garage,” he called after you, his laughter echoing down the hallway.
But unlucky for you, the encounters with him didn’t stop there.
It had been an ordinary day until you got a delivery notification to your phone. Except, your package wasn’t on your doorstep in the attached photo. It was on his.
The moment you knocked on Jungkook’s door, you regretted it. He opened it with that same maddeningly smug grin, leaning against the frame like he’d been expecting you.
“Ah, neighbor,” he greeted, dragging out the word with mock familiarity. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
You forced a tight smile. “A package of mine was delivered here by mistake. I just need it back.”
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, this?” He held up the small box with one hand, turning it over like he was appraising it.
“Yes,” you said sharply, reaching for it.
But he didn’t hand it over. Instead, he tilted his head, a curious look overtaking his features. “It’s pretty light. What’s in it?”
Your stomach clenched. “None of your business.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Come on, it’s not every day I get mystery mail. It’s only fair I find out what I’ve been holding onto.”
“Fair?” you scoffed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just give it to me, Jungkook.”
But then he leaned in slightly, his grin widening as he finally noticed the discreet logo on the corner of the box. “Ohhh,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “I get it now. You really couldn’t wait for this, huh?”
Your face went hot. “What are you talking about?”
He tapped the box lightly. “You’re holding out on me. Is this your secret weapon?”
Your jaw dropped, and before you could stop him, he read the fine print out loud. “Rechargeable… cordless… massager.”
It took you a second too long to process that he was still holding the box, your vibrator, and that he was barely holding back laughter.
“Give me that,” you hissed, snatching it from his hand.
“Relax, neighbor,” he teased, his voice tinged with laughter. “I’m just impressed. You’re bolder than you look.
You glared at him, clutching the box like it held your darkest secrets. “You’re so annoying.”
“And you’re fun,” he countered easily, crossing his arms and leaning lazily against the doorframe. “So, when do I get to see it in action?”
You blinked, completely thrown. “What?!”
He laughed at your horrified expression. “Kidding. Mostly.” Then he smirked. “But if you need help figuring it out, you know where I live.”
You stormed off, your face burning as his laughter followed you down the hallway.
Sana’s name lit up your phone just as you were about to curl up on the couch. Your finger glided across your screen, accepting the call and pulling your phone up to your ear.
You answered with a wary, “Hello?”
“Okay, don’t panic,” she said immediately. “But I need a favor.”
You sighed. “That sentence never ends well.”
“I met this guy at a bar the other night,” she said, voice soft but bubbling with excitement. “He’s really sweet. Like, actually sweet. We’ve been texting, and he asked me out.”
“That’s good,” you said. “Why does this sound like it involves me?”
“Before you say no,” she said immediately, voice soft but urgent, “I already told him yes.”
You groaned. “Sana.”
“He insisted on a double date,” she rushed on. “And I panicked! And I said I’d bring a friend! And then I realized I don’t actually have another single friend who won’t make it weird—”
“So you volunteered me,” you finished flatly.
“I tried to just make it the two of us,” she continued, undeterred. “But he seemed to be really psyched about the idea of a double date. Please. Just one night. Do it for me?”
You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “You know I haven’t really been… dating.”
“I know,” she said gently. “That’s why it might be good for you. And he already paid for the reservation.”
You hesitated, but ultimately accepted defeat.
Sana had always been like this. She was soft-spoken, kind to a fault, eyes hopeful in a way that made it hard to say no. She deserved a good night.
“Fine,” you said before a moment of silence. “But if he’s weird, I’m fake sick.”
She squealed. “I owe you everything.”
Sana ended up at your place not even ten minutes after the call, bursting through the door with a garment bag slung over her shoulder and excitement written all over her face.
You watched her pull dresses from the bag one by one, each cuter than the last.
“So,” you said casually, leaning against the doorframe. “What’s the other guy like?” Sana paused mid-hanger, slowly turning to look at you with a grin that was way too knowing.
“Oh?” she said. “So you are excited.”
You scoffed, immediately feeling heat creep up your cheeks. You tried to hide the redness that colored your cheeks, but failed in doing so. “I didn’t say that.”
Sana’s eyes sparkled. “Okay, so, he says his friend is really chill. Quiet-ish. Kind of sarcastic, but in a funny way.”
You hummed. “Sarcastic, huh?”
“Yeah, apparently they’ve known each other forever,” she added quickly.
The thought of everything made your stomach flutter, just a little. It had been a long time since you’d let yourself feel excited about something like this.
“What about looks?” you teased, though the question came from genuine curiosity.
She shrugged innocently. “He didn’t say much. Just that he cleans up nice.”
You rolled your eyes. “That tells me nothing.”
She grinned. “That’s the fun part.”
Soon enough, the apartment filled with music, low and cozy this time, as the two of you got ready together. Sana stood in front of the mirror, curling her hair while you debated between outfits on your bed.
You pulled a black halter top over your shoulders, adjusting the straps in the mirror. It was simple but flirty, showing just enough skin to feel confident without being too flashy. Paired with a cute black tiered skirt, it felt just right. You tugged the top down a fraction, allowing a bit of cleavage to peek through. A tiny bit scandalous never hurt anyone. Plus, it was about time you let yourself get a little wild.
It wasn’t too long before the two of you were finally ready. With your bags slung over your shoulders and a flutter of nerves in your chest, you followed Sana out to her car. The city lights reflected off the windows as she started the engine, practically vibrating with excitement.
The restaurant wasn’t far, and before long, you pulled up to a warmly lit building buzzing with people. Sana practically jumped out of the car, dragging you along.
“That’s them!” she whispered, pointing toward the entrance.
You froze.
Standing there, casually leaning against the host stand, was a man you knew all too well.
Jungkook.
Black shirt, dark jeans, a dark jacket thrown over his shoulders, hair a little messy in that infuriatingly effortless way. He smiled at the man standing next to him, Sana’s date, presumably. Nonetheless, the moment his eyes caught yours, that nasty smirk of his couldn’t bear a second before its appearance.
Your instinct screamed to turn and run. But Sana was already waving.
You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders. Do not make a scene. Do not ruin her night.
With as much calm as you could muster, you stepped forward.
You plastered a polite smile on your face, walking up like you didn’t recognize him. “Hi, I’m Y/N... uh, nice to meet you,” you said, keeping your tone casual and cheerful.
Jungkook’s eyes twitched with amusement. He could tell you were faking it, but he just mirrored your tone, as if to make fun of your situation. “Nice to meet you,” he said, letting the words linger just slightly longer than normal, his voice low and teasing.
Then, leaning in ever so slightly, he dropped his voice into a near-whisper. “Got all dressed up just for me, huh?” You shook his hand, but avoided his gaze in embarassment. “Cute outfit.” His eyes dropped to your body before flashing back up to your face. His infamous smirk never left his face, and you could only roll your eyes in response.
Sana, oblivious to the tension, grabbed your arm and whispered, “He seems nice, right?”
You nodded, keeping your expression neutral. “Yep. Very nice.”
Throughout the rest of the brief greeting, Jungkook’s eyes wandered on you just a little too long, but you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He was doing this on purpose.
Dinner awaited, and you had a job to do: enjoy the night for Sana’s sake. No matter how hard Jungkook made it to keep your focus elsewhere.
You followed Sana to the table, trying to keep your movements casual, your smile in place. Jungkook stayed standing for a moment, letting her guide you, before slipping into the chair opposite you once everyone settled. The sound of chatter from surrounding tables filled the room, but your attention was glued to the dark haired boy across from you.
The table had each couple sitting across from each other. Sana and her date were on one side and you and Jungkook were on the other. You shifted in your chair, trying to get comfortable without looking too stiff.
“Glad you could make it,” Jungkook murmured again, his tone casual but still teasing. You forced a tight-lipped smile and nodded.
The first few minutes were tolerable. Conversations about the menu, recommendations, and small talk flowed between the four of you. Then, almost without warning, a light brush of your foot under the table made you glance down. A faint, persistent nudge. You shot him a sharp look, hoping he’d stop, but he kept up with his cheeky grin and pretending to pay attention to the menu. You crossed your legs, pulling them back toward yourself.
This guy was the absolute end of you. Every encounter with him somehow managed to get under your skin, and he relished every second of it. A rivalry that you took all too seriously.
Despite the situation, the rest of the meal wasn’t terrible. You talked politely with Sana’s date, joked along lightly, and even found a few topics of conversation that weren’t dominated by Jungkook’s snarky behaviors.
You tried to focus on Sana, who was blissfully unaware of the silent war at the table. Still, every now and then, your eyes met Jungkook’s. Each time, you would dart your eyes the other way, head held high.
By the time dinner ended, you felt a mix of relief and frustration. The encounter hadn’t been unbearable, it had actually gone smoother than you expected. But Jungkook had reminded you, subtly and persistently, that he was still as infuriating as ever.
And yet you had to admit it. He was painfully attractive. Exactly your type, which only made the whole thing worse. The way his arms were covered in tattoos, ink peeking out whenever he moved, the quiet confidence he carried without trying, the way his gaze lingered just a second too long—like he knew the effect it had on you. It made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge, and made it harder to keep pretending he didn’t get to you at all.
After dinner, the four of you decided to head to a nearby bar, the kind that had dim lights, upbeat music, and a packed dance floor. Sana was practically vibrating with excitement as she dragged you along. You weren’t sure if it was the wine at dinner or her uncontainable energy, but she barely let you get a word in as she chatted about how great the evening was so far. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your best friend having an amazing time, despite your sacrifice.
As soon as you walked in, she spotted the dance floor and practically pulled you by the hand. “I’m going to join him for a bit,” she said, pointing at her date. “You stay here, okay? Grab a drink, meet some people!”
You froze. Because staying meant being trapped with Jungkook until who knows when. Arms crossed, you planted yourself in the booth behind the bar table Jungkook was seated at, determined to ignore him. Unfortunately, that proved difficult when he was only a few feet away. He leaned back slightly, eyes catching yours instantly, seizing the opportunity to spark up a conversation with you.
“You look cute when you’re mad, you know?” he said, voice low, teasing.
You shot him a glare as soon as he parted his lips to speak. “You really are insufferable, you know?”
“Okay, okay, sorry,” he said, hands raised mockingly in surrender.
You huffed, then slid out of the booth and made your way to the bar, claiming the empty stool beside him. “Fine.”
You perched on the barstool, arms still crossed as Jungkook leaned casually on the counter, a drink in hand. He nudged the glass toward you while taking another in his grasp. The music thumped around you, but it was easier to ignore with the two of you talking.
You tilted your head, eyeing the drink with squinted eyes. “Should I be worried this is poison?”
He grinned, leaning just a little closer. “Depends, do you plan on surviving the night?”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. “I guess I’ll take my chances.”
He raised his glass in a mock toast, and for a moment, the noise of the bar faded around you. You caught yourself studying the way the corner of his mouth curved, the casual ease in his posture and felt an usual pull he seemed to have on you. You’d blame the alcohol, if you’d actually had any yet.
“So,” he started, “how’s life in paradise next door?”
“Funny,” you said dryly, “I was about to ask you the same thing about your ongoing percussion experiments at 2 a.m.”
He chuckled, sipping his drink. “Hey, you set the bar with your cleaning orchestras. I’m just giving back.”
You rolled your eyes, but a reluctant laugh escaped. “I had no idea what I was getting into when I moved here. Walls thinner than paper, neighbors who seem to think soundproofing is optional…”
“Optional?” he echoed, leaning closer. “I think it’s mandatory.”
“Excuse me?” Your eyes darted to his with furrowed eyebrows.
“Nothing,” he said, waving a hand and backing down in defeat.
“You’re really good at getting under my skin,” you admitted, almost laughing too loudly.
“Someone’s gotta keep you entertained,” he said, leaning back. “But I will say, it’s kind of nice, you know… seeing the real side of you through all the glare.”
You blinked, a little flustered, and took a sip of your drink. “Real side? You mean the side that wants to punch you in the face sometimes?”
“That one,” he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “Fine. You win. But only because I don’t have a choice. Sana abandoned me, remember?”
“I’d say that makes this the perfect opportunity to get to know me,” he said, leaning forward again. “You’re new to the area. I might be the best tour guide you’re going to get tonight.”
“Tour guide, huh?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “I feel like I should be suspicious.”
“Suspicious is fair,” he said, smirk widening. “I have been a little annoying lately, after all. But also charming enough to keep you talking, apparently.”
“Talking because, just to emphasize, I’m trapped.” You corrected, though you knew that wasn't truly the case.
Part of you did enjoy this. Part of you could also feel the slow tension growing between the two of you. A feeling so thick it was almost touchable.
“And yet,” he said softly, leaning closer, “you’re still here. I call that progress.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, but couldn’t hide the small smile creeping up your lips.
The drinks continued, loosening your tongue more than you expected. You told him about how you’d moved in, the chaos of unpacking, and the little annoyances of adjusting to new neighbors. He shared his own stories about life in the building, the quirks of other tenants, and his fondness for finding ways to irritate people in the most harmless ways possible.
“Honestly,” he said at one point, leaning back with a grin, “I didn’t think you’d keep up with me in this ridiculous game of one-upmanship.”
“You’re serious?” you asked, laughing. “I thought you just liked being a nuisance.”
“Maybe I do,” he admitted, shrugging, “but you make it fun. In a different way.”
The more you talked, the more the night felt less like a punishment and more like something else.
The conversation eased the tension more than you’d expected. Drink after drink, you laughed at each other’s quirks, swapped small stories about childhood mischief, and even shared some of your favorite spots in the city. The more you drank, the more you found yourself letting go of your annoyance—just a little.
Glancing at your phone, you saw a text from Sana: “Going to his place! Sorry, here’s some money for an Uber if you need it, have fun!” You groaned but accepted your fate. She was clearly having fun, and somehow, despite your best efforts, you were enjoying yourself too.
A few more drinks later, tipsy and careless, you decided to join the dance floor. You grabbed Jungkook’s hand before he could protest. Everyone’s eyes turned, and for a moment, you felt embarrassed, but he steadied you immediately, one hand at your waist, the other on your back. You were practically a noodle in his arms, staggering slightly.
“Let’s get you home,” he said softly, chuckling at your disheveled state. You clutched him tightly, mumbling incomprehensible apologies and gibberish as he guided you out.
He carried you to his car effortlessly, your arms still wound around him. “You’re lucky we’re neighbors,” he quipped playfully, “so I actually know where you live. Otherwise, you’d be wandering the streets like a lost kitten.” Even in your messy state, you gave him yet another look. Maybe the 50th of the night.
At his car, he placed you carefully in the passenger seat, closing the door after you loosened your grip. You slumped back, finally giving in to sleep as he drove.
At your apartment, he carried you inside, navigating the living room and bedroom with surprising ease. Gently, he placed you upright onto your bed, getting ready to leave before noticing you shivering and clutching tightly onto your sheets. He removed his coat and wrapped it around you, adding a blanket from your bed along the rest of your body.
“Don’t… pretend to be all nice guy… now,” you mumbled in slurred words, along with some other things that were far more incomprehensible.
“Okay, silly,” he said with a soft breath before finally taking his leave. “Take care.”
Morning came too fast, sunlight cutting through the blinds. Your head throbbed, hair a mess. Knocking sounded faintly at your door, gradually getting louder as consciousness returned. Groaning, you lifted your head and noticed the jacket around your shoulders.
Jungkook’s jacket.
After making your way over to the front door, you swung it open. You saw nobody but a small bag sat to the right of the entrance. A bright yellow sticky note read: “For the hangover - from your favorite neighbor.”
Inside, a container of soup and a small bottle of water. You couldn’t help but feel touched, even though your brain reminded you of the rivalry. You thought to knock to say thank you, but were still embarrassed from the night before and ultimately decided to head back to your apartment.
Later that afternoon, after you’d finally managed to eat a little something from the soup he’d left, your thoughts drifted back to the jacket. You couldn’t keep it forever. It was his, after all.
With a sigh, you grabbed your keys, slinging the jacket over your arm. You rehearsed what you’d say to him while you were on your way there, making sure it sounded casual and neutral.
You knocked, and after a moment, the door swung open. Jungkook had his hand rested on the door handle, hair slightly messy, eyes immediately lighting up when he saw the jacket in your arms.
“Returning my coat, I see,” he said. “And here I was hoping you’d come in so I could make sure you really recovered.”
“Keep dreaming, Jungkook.” you said, hang stuck out with the jacket in hand.
He chuckled, that cocky grin stretching wider as he took it from your grasp. “Sure, sure. But admit it. Part of you wanted to step inside and see just how helpful I could be.” A brief image of the scenario popped into your head, your face reddening at the mere thought. You dipped your chin low, trying to mask the obvious fact.
“Thanks though.” he added, voice low and playful, “But I have to admit, seeing you all cozy in my coat last night was entertaining.”
“Yeah, sure,” you muttered as a faint pink crept across your cheeks.
You turned to leave, but he called softly after you. “Next time, maybe just a text will do. Unless you want me to demonstrate my full neighborly skills.” You scoffed at the statement, loud enough for him to hear as you proceeded back to your apartment. Even as you tried to scold yourself for the sudden spike of excitement at the encounter, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, the rivalry wasn’t going away anytime soon. And maybe, you didn’t want it to.
That night, the air felt colder than usual.
At first, you thought it was just your imagination. Then the lights flickered once. The twice. Before it finally plunged your apartment into darkness. Just your luck.
You groaned, fumbling for your phone as the quiet settled in. No hum of electricity. No heater kicking on.
Perfect.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, already feeling the chill creep in. Your apartment was usually cozy, but now it felt like a freezer. And before you could overthink it, before pride could stop you, your thumb hovered over his name.
You told yourself it was practical. Nothing more.
That was how, minutes later, you found yourself calling your infuriating neighbor in the middle of a blackout.
“Hey,” you said, teeth chattering. “Has your power gone out too? It’s freezing. And my heater is broken.”
A low chuckle came through the phone. “Power’s out, yeah. But don’t worry, I’ve got a portable heater. Doesn’t need electricity.”
“Wait, what?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re offering to bring it over?”
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Can’t let the new neighbor freeze to death, can I?”
Within minutes, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find him standing there, holding the compact heater in one hand. “Mind if I come in? It’s kind of awkward standing in the hallway freezing my ass off.”
You hesitated, eyeing him for a moment, but the cold was unbearable. “Fine, but only because you offered up your heater,” you sighed, stepping aside.
He entered, scanning the dark apartment. He set the heater down on the floor in front of your couch and flicked the switch on. A warm light emitted from it, but its radius was only enough for the two of you to see each other and not much else. There was a brief click, followed by a low whirr as the machine came to life. The sound grew steadier, a soft mechanical hum filling the quiet room, accompanied by a faint rush of air as warmth slowly began to spill out into the cold.
As he straightened up and took a seat on the couch beside you, his eyes caught the box on the coffee table.
He arched an eyebrow, a devious look on his face. “Oh? Looks like you were trying to have some fun before I arrived. Sorry for crashing the party,” he teased, his arm reaching out to grab it.
Before he could lay a finger on it, you rushed to pick it up and snatch it away from his grasp. Hurriedly, you stuffed it in the compartment of your coffee table, unable to make eye contact with him. “It’s none of your business,” you mumbled, trying to hide the blush that surfaced along your cheeks.
“Sure,” he said with a mock-serious tone. “I can leave if you want? Or maybe I could stay and join the fun.” The chaffing was deliberate, dragging out the words just enough to make your stomach twist.
You rolled your eyes, but your body betrayed you as you moved closer to the heater. The warm air hit your skin, but it didn’t stop the tension radiating from where he was sitting.
You grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and held it out toward him. “Here, we can share,” you said, biting your lip.
He accepted, draping it around the two of you. In the dim glow of the heater, your bodies were closer than ever. Your knees brushed, shoulders almost touching, and for the first time, the usual annoyances, felt nearly nonexistent.
He leaned slightly toward you under the guise of adjusting the blanket, the air between you thickening by the second. His knee brushed against yours again, this time a little more deliberately. Your fingers lingered on the edge of the blanket as he shifted closer. The heater hissed softly, the warmth mingling with the tension that had been building for what felt like forever. You couldn’t deny the buried sexual frustration within you fighting to come out.
You realized, despite yourself, that being trapped with him like this was intoxicating. Every brush of skin, every playful comment made your heart race faster. You hugged the blanket tighter around yourself, shivering despite its warmth.
“I’m still freezing,” you admitted, your voice small. “This blanket isn’t doing enough.”
Jungkook turned to you with a grin that seemed a mix of cheekiness and genuine emotion. “Well, I could help with that,” he said lightly, leaning back slightly so you could scoot closer.
You almost snapped back at him in habit, but a part of you sort of wanted it. Carefully, you edged toward him and pressed your side against his, letting the blanket cover both of you. He stiffened slightly at the closeness, then relaxed, one arm slipping around your shoulders without hesitation.
“Better?” he murmured, voice low, teasing but gentle.
“Yeah… a little,” you admitted, trying not to sound flustered. Your body pressed against his for warmth, but the contact felt electric. You moved just enough so your head could rest against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under the fabric of his shirt.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “So, this is how we’re solving your ‘cold’ problem, huh?”
“Shut up,” you muttered, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. You nuzzled closer, feeling the warmth encase you a bit further.
“I think… we could be more effective if we… lay down,” he suggested, eyebrows furrowed.
“Lay down?” you asked, slightly doubtful of his suggestion.
“Trust me,” he said, tugging gently so you could move against him. You reluctantly shifted, letting him guide you in the right position. Once you were lying down, you curled against his side, pressing into him, and he adjusted so he could wrap both arms around you.
The warmth of his body seeped into you instantly, and you felt yourself relaxing, the tension of the cold and the awkwardness melting away. Your cheek rested against his chest, your nose brushing over the fabric of his shirt, and your body instinctively pressed against him.
As you shifted to get more comfortable, you couldn’t help but feel the unmistakable outline of his bulge against your hip and thigh. Your eyes widened upon contact as a heat found itself creeping into places unrelated to the heater.
Jungkook’s hand slid casually over your back, fingers grazing along the curve of your side, and he let out a low chuckle. “You’re awfully close,” he murmured, slightly flustered, likely due your gentle presses against his member.
“Yeah, well freezing people tend to get clingy,” you spoke lowly, moving closer into him.
The blanket pooled over both of you, cocooning the two of you in shared warmth. He adjusted slightly, one of his arms draped over your shoulders and the other resting lightly along your side, tracing slow, teasing patterns over your hip.
Your pulse quickened as you took in his scent, clean and warm, like freshly washed fabric layered with something deeper and familiar. It clung to his skin and clothes, subtle but grounding, wrapping around you as you hesitated for a moment before letting yourself curl up closer. “Yeah, I… think I might need… more help,” you whispered, heart hammering. He caught your gaze, his playful expression softening into something darker, more intent.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, your lips lifted to his, pressing a tentative kiss against him.
He froze for just a moment, then tilted his head, deepening the kiss, one arm tightening around you, the other keeping your bodies pressed together as your hearts raced in unison. The blanket barely contained the heat spreading between you, the warmth of his body and the closeness of your own fueling a desire that had been simmering under all the teasing and rivalry.
His kiss deepened, a clash of tongue and teeth that was every bit as aggressive and addicting as the man himself. It was a kiss born from weeks of frustration, a physical manifestation of every sarcastic note and every sleepless night. You moaned into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could fuse your bodies together. The hand that had been tracing patterns on your hip slid lower, gripping your ass possessively and squeezing, pulling you flush against his hardening length.
“Still cold?” he rasped against your lips, a smug grin in his voice.
“Shut up and do something about it,” you breathed back, nipping at his lower lip.
That was all the encouragement he needed. His hand moved from your ass, sliding up your thigh and into the waist band of shorts. His fingers were warm as they traced the edge of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin there. Your breath hitched, and you instinctively parted your legs, a silent invitation you couldn’t believe you were giving your annoying neighbor.
It was surreal, being curled up like this with the very guy who had driven you insane since the day you moved in. He was supposed to be your neighborly enemy, the last person you’d ever let this close. And here you were, bodies close, warmth bleeding into warmth, wondering when annoyance had quietly twisted into something far more intimate.
He chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest. “Eager, are we? I knew all that fighting was just foreplay.”
Before you could retort, his fingers slipped past the fabric of your panties, finding you already slick and ready. He groaned, his forehead resting against yours. “Fuck, you’re soaked. Is all this for me, neighbor?”
You could only whimper in response as his fingers explored your folds, circling your clit with precision. He was good, infuriatingly good. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to ignite your core until you were writhing against him.
“Jungkook…” you gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. You could see the amusement in his eyes as he closely watched your movements, your desperate attempts at feeling utmost pleasure.
“Yeah, that’s it. You’re so fucking sexy,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust. He plunged one finger inside you, then a second, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. He set a consistent rhythm, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you. The pleasure was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the biting cold of the apartment, something you could no longer even think to feel or notice.
You were a mess, moaning and clutching at his shoulders, your head thrown back. He watched you, his eyes dark and hungry, drinking in every reaction. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “So beautiful falling apart on my fingers.”
He pulled his fingers out, wet with your arousal, and before you could get anything out, he brought them to your lips. “Open up,” he ordered softly. You obeyed without hesitation, taking his fingers into your mouth and tasting yourself. You sucked on them, your tongue swirling around his digits as your eyes locked with his.
“God, you look so fucking good with my fingers in your mouth,” he breathed, his gaze intense. “Imagine how much better you’d look with something else in there.”
The thought sent a fresh wave of desire through you. He leaned in and kissed you again, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting your juices from your lips. “So fucking tasty,” he groaned, his voice thick with approval. “I need more of you.”
He gently pushed you back against the couch cushions, his hands moving to the hem of your top. He lifted it over your head, his eyes devouring the sight of your bare breasts. He reached out, cupping them, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. “Perfect,” he muttered, leaning down to take one into his mouth. He sucked and nipped, his other hand rolling your other nipple between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body.
His mouth left your breast, trailing a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one swift motion. He settled between your legs, his shoulders pushing your thighs wider apart. He looked up at you from under his lashes, a wicked smirk on his face. “You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted you.”
And then his mouth was on you. His tongue was a master, licking and flicking and sucking on your clit with a desperation that matched your own. He ate you out hungrily, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for him. You cried out, your hands flying to his broad shoulders, holding him to you as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. It didn’t take long before you were shattering, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of intense pleasure.
He didn’t stop, though. His tongue continued lapping at your juices as you came down from your high. Once your breathing evened out, he moved back up your body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on him, and it was the most erotic thing you had ever experienced.
You wanted more. You wanted to feel him, all of him. You pushed at his shoulders, rolling him over so you were straddling his lap. You fumbled with the button of his jeans, your hands trembling with anticipation. You finally freed his cock, and your eyes widened at the sight of him. He was thick and hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
You wrapped your hand around him, stroking him slowly, enjoying the way his breath hitched at each movement. You lowered your head, taking him into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his tip, tasting the salty pre-cum before taking him deeper. You set a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, your hand working in harmony with your mouth.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his hands lightly tugging at your hair, guiding your movements. “Just like that. Take my cock, baby. You look so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth.”
His praise spurred you on, and you took him deeper, relaxing your throat until he was hitting the back of it. He cursed, his hips thrusting up to meet your mouth. You could feel him getting close, his cock twitching in your mouth, but you weren't ready for him to come yet.
You pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. You looked up at him, your eyes dark with desire. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook. Now.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He flipped you over, positioning himself between your legs. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you by rubbing his cock along your slick folds. “You sure you can handle it?” he teased, his smirk firmly in place.
“Just fuck me already,” you demanded, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him forward.
He finally pushed into you, stretching you deliciously. He filled you completely, and you moaned at the feeling of fullness. He started moving, his thrusts hard and deep, just as rough and demanding as you knew he would be. He set a punishing pace, mingling with your moans and his grunts.
“You feel so fucking good,” he panted, his hands roaming your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples, and gripping your ass. “So tight and wet for me.”
He hooked your legs over his arms, changing the angle and allowing him to go even deeper. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as he hit that perfect spot over and over again. “Harder,” you begged, your voice hoarse with pleasure. He obliged, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more powerful before slowing down and coming to a halt.
He pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against yours. For a second, you thought he was going to say something smart again, but then his gaze drifted past you, toward the coffee table.
There was a pause. Intentional.
Jungkook let out a quiet laugh under his breath and reached out, opening the compartment with a familiar ease. When he straightened again, the box was in his hand, fingers curling around it like he’d always known it would end up here.
His eyes met yours, slow and knowing.
“Funny,” he murmured. “I remember offering to help you figure this thing out earlier.”
He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Guess I wasn’t joking after all.”
He took the vibrator from the box, turning it on. The low buzz filled the room. He spread your legs, positioning the toy at your entrance. He teased you, running it along your folds, circling your clit before slowly sliding it inside you. You gasped at the new sensation, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you.
He started to move the toy, his eyes glued to your face, watching your every reaction. He was enjoying this, enjoying the control he had over your body. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continued to fuck you with the vibrator. You were already so sensitive from your previous orgasm, and the stimulation was almost too much. You were a moaning mess, your body writhing on the couch as he brought you to the brink yet again.
Just as you felt the tightening coil of another orgasm begin to build, he stopped. He pulled the toy out, leaving you empty and aching. You whimpered in protest, your eyes fluttering open to find him watching you with a dark, calculating gaze.
“Not like that,” he said, his voice a low growl. He glanced from your flushed face to the vibrator in his hand, and then to his own hardening cock. He clearly had something else in mind.
Your heart pulsed against your ribs in anticipation. He shifted, positioning himself between your legs once more. He didn’t enter you, not yet. Instead, he took the buzzing vibrator and, with a devilish smirk, pressed its head directly against your clit. You cried out, your hips jerking at the intense, focused stimulation.
“Jungkook!” you gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders.
“Look at me. I wanna see your beautiful face.” he commanded, his voice thick with lust. He held the toy in place with one hand, using the other to line his cock up with your entrance. He pushed forward, sinking into you slowly, inch by inch. The feeling was indescribable, his thick, hard cock filling you while the relentless vibrations from the toy stimulated your clit from the outside.
He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, allowing you to adjust to the overwhelming dual sensations. Every time he pulled back, the vibrator pressed harder against your bundle of nerves, and every time he pushed forward, his cock stretched you, hitting spots deep inside you that you didn't even know existed.
“You feel that?” he panted, his forehead pressed against yours. “How good you’re taking it? Fuck, you’re so perfect.”
You couldn’t answer. You were a mess of whimpers and moans, your body completely at his mercy. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, a hot heat that was getting stronger by the second. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice rough. “I want to feel you come all over my cock.”
His words were your undoing. With a strangled cry, your orgasm shattered through you. It was a violent, all-consuming wave of pleasure that ripped through your entire body. Your walls clenched around him, your back arching off the couch as you screamed his name. The world dissolved into a blinding white light, and for a moment, you thought you might pass out from the sheer intensity of it.
He followed you over the edge a moment later, his thrusts stilling as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his cum.
He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling with the force of his release. The vibrator was still buzzing against your clit, a low, persistent thrum that was now almost painfully overstimulating. He seemed to realize this and, with a soft groan, he gently eased it away, turning it off and letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.
You were both a sweaty, breathless mess, tangled together under the blanket in the dim glow of the heater. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a sweet reminder of the raw passion that had just exploded between you.
He rolled off you, but immediately pulled you back into his arms, your back against his chest. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your shoulder, a stark contrast to the rough, demanding way he had just fucked you.
“You okay?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear.
You could only nod, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You were completely spent, utterly boneless, and for the first time since you’d moved in, the apartment felt warm in every possible way.
He held you in silence for a long time, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your stomach.
“Same time tomorrow?”
masterlist
a/n: yay! we made it to the end :D hope you enjoyed!
The soft, cloudy evening light filtered through the window, making you squint as you slowly stirred, not yet ready to open your eyes. The sky outside was covered with thick grey clouds, and the faint sound of rain tapping against the window filled the room.
Your cheek rested against the hard chest beneath you, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His arm was wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you close without hurting you.
Slowly, you opened your eyes, your gaze soon finding the very owner of the heartbeat you'd been listening to.
His soft face, straight nose, slightly parted lips, and peacefully closed eyes looked even more beautiful beneath the dim, grey evening light.
For a moment, you simply lay there, listening to the rain and his steady heartbeat, feeling warm and safe in his arms.
You smiled unconsciously as you lifted your hand, gently brushing a finger along his nose, careful not to wake him.
But somehow, he did anyway.
He shifted beneath you, slowly opening his eyes before looking at you with a sleepy smile.
“Hey… how are you feeling?” Jungkook murmured, his voice still raspy with sleep.
“Um… pretty sore,” you admitted softly.
He looked at you with an apologetic expression, a faint smile tugging at his lips before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Sorry, love,” he whispered.
You looked at him with a reassuring smile, letting him know you were okay.
He leaned in, and your lips met in a soft, lingering kiss. His arm pulled you closer against his chest as his fingers gently caressed your hair.
You closed your eyes, simply enjoying the warmth of his embrace.
For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. The room remained quiet, filled only with the soft sound of your breathing.
Until a loud growl came from your stomach.
Jungkook immediately pulled back to look at you.
You quickly hid your face against his chest, embarrassed.
“Aww… my baby is hungry,” he teased softly, a smile evident in his voice.
He gently tilted your face up, giving your nose a small boop with his finger.
“I’ll get something for us to eat,” he said.
You nodded, still curled comfortably against him.
Jungkook slowly got out of bed and pulled on his pants. You sat up too, trying to get out of bed yourself.
“Ouch.”
Jungkook immediately turned around, his face tensing with concern.
“What is it?”
“Well… a monster was a little too fast on me a few hours ago,” you said, scrunching your face with a small pout, giving him a cute, slightly annoyed look.
His tense expression immediately softened into a mischievous smile.
“Well, someone was the one refusing to let me slow down,” he teased, his smile growing wider.
Your eyes widened.
Without another word, you quickly grabbed the nearest pillow.
Jungkook's eyes immediately went to it.
“Hey-”
You threw it at him, but he quickly dodged and started running toward the door.
“I’m fast at dodging too, baby!” he called from outside the room.
You could only chuckle to yourself, shaking your head at whatever was happening right now.
A few minutes later, before he even entered the room, you could already smell the hot ramen.
Jungkook walked in carrying a tray, a steaming bowl of ramen sitting on it with a pair of chopsticks beside it. Two cans of soda and a small chocolate bar were placed next to the bowl.
He walked over to the bed and carefully placed the tray in front of you before sitting down beside you.
“Look what I got,” he said proudly.
You looked at the ramen, then at him.
“You got chocolate too?”
“Of course.” He picked up the chopsticks. “I know my baby.”
A small smile appeared on your face.
He picked up some noodles and carefully blew on them before bringing them toward your mouth.
“Open.”
You obediently opened your mouth, taking a bite.
“How is it?” he asked.
“Good.”
“Good?” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s all I get?”
You nodded seriously. “It’s good.”
He stared at you for a second before shaking his head.
“I carried all this here and even got your favorite chocolate, and I only get a ‘good’?”
You couldn't help but laugh.
“Okay, okay. It’s delicious.”
“That’s better.”
He picked up another bite and held it out for you.
You ate it, watching him with a small smile.
“Why are you staring at me?” he asked.
“Because you’re feeding me.”
“So?”
“You look funny.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Funny?”
You nodded.
He narrowed his eyes playfully before bringing the chopsticks toward your mouth again.
“Eat before I take it back.”
You quickly opened your mouth.
He laughed softly.
After a few more bites, you reached for the chopsticks from his hand.
“Now you.”
You picked up some noodles and held them out toward him.
A small smile appeared on his face as he leaned forward and ate from the chopsticks.
“Good?” you asked.
“Mhm.”
You smiled proudly. “See? I can take care of you too.”
He looked at you for a moment before his expression softened.
“I know, baby.”
You continued taking turns feeding each other, stealing little bites of ramen and occasionally teasing one another.
The simple moment felt warm and peaceful, the two of you sitting close together on the bed as you slowly finished the meal.
After you both finished eating, Jungkook got up and picked up the tray.
“Here,” he said, handing you the chocolate bar before taking the dishes.
“Eat it, princess.”
You gave him a small smile as you took it from his hand.
He walked out of the room with the tray and the empty bowls.
A few minutes later, he came back carrying a hot water bag. He had also changed into a fresh sweatshirt, while you were already wearing one of his.
He sat beside you on the bed and gently placed the warm bag over your abdomen.
“It hurts bad, right?” he asked softly.
“Sorry,” he added, his voice filled with guilt.
Your hand immediately reached up to his cheek, gently caressing it.
“It’s okay, Kook. Don’t feel bad about it.”
He looked at you for a moment before giving you a small smile.
He continued gently massaging your side, making sure you were comfortable as the warmth from the bag slowly eased the ache.
After some time, the rain outside grew heavier, the sound becoming louder against the window. The room slowly grew colder.
“Kook…”
He looked at you.
You glanced toward the window.
His eyes followed yours, and a tiny smile appeared on his face.
Without saying anything, he quietly got up.
He returned a moment later with his guitar and sat down in front of you.
“Alright, ready, baby?”
“Yes,” you answered with a smile.
He adjusted the guitar in his lap, his fingers settling gently over the strings.
Then he began to play.
You immediately recognized the familiar melody.
“Still With You?” you asked softly.
He smiled at you.
Your favourite song.
A smile instantly spread across your face.
His fingers began moving gently across the strings, and soon, his voice joined the melody.
His voice was soft and warm, blending beautifully with the sound of the rain outside. You simply watched him, completely captivated by the way his fingers moved across the strings and the way his eyes occasionally found yours while he sang.
You hadn't even asked him to sing.
But somehow, he knew.
When the song finally ended, you were still smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
Jungkook looked at you, waiting for your reaction.
“How was it, baby?” he asked.
“Perfect. As always,” you said softly.
You slowly reached toward him, and he immediately opened his arms, pulling you gently against his chest.
He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, smiling.
“Every song sounds perfect when I sing it for you, love.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” you snap.
Jungkook points at you, eyes wide with frustration. “You ignored me for hours!”
“Because you were being clingy!”
He steps closer. “And you were being cold!”
The air crackles between you, charged and hot. You shove his shoulder; he grabs your wrist. Neither of you back down.
“Let go,” you warn.
“No,” he fires back, pulling you into him so fast your breath stutters. Your chest meets his. His jaw clenches. “You drive me crazy,” he breathes.
You’re about to argue again, but he crushes his mouth to yours. The kiss is raw and explosive, consuming and fuelled by every ounce of tension between you. Jungkook kisses like he’s been holding this in for too long, like the argument lit a fuse he couldn’t put out.
His hand slides to your lower back, pressing you closer and deeper, until you’re drowning in the heat of him. You cling to his shirt without meaning to, and he growls softly when you kiss him back just as fiercely.
When he breaks away, he’s breathless. “You can’t ignore me,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “Not when I feel like this.”
He kisses you again before you can even think of replying.
KIM TAEHYUNG/V
“Stop being sarcastic,” you demand.
Taehyung lifts a brow. “Stop giving me something to be sarcastic about.”
Your glare heightens. “You’re infuriating.”
He steps closer. “And you love it.”
You open your mouth to deny it, but he’s suddenly right in front of you, his breath warm against your cheek. You feel his fingers ghost along your arm, sending sparks racing under your skin.
“Tae, don’t start,” you warn.
“Oh, I’ve already started.”
Before you can process it, he catches your chin lightly between his fingers and pulls your mouth to his in a slow, deep kiss. It’s devastatingly sensual, like honey poured over heat.
Taehyung kisses you with a lazy sort of confidence, savouring every second, like the argument was just foreplay to him. His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers caressing your skin until your whole body tingles. You exhale shakily against his lips.
He smirks into the kiss. “Mmhmm −that’s the sound I wanted.”
When he finally pulls away, you’re flushed, unsteady. Taehyung traces your lower lip with a fingertip. “Still mad?”
You shake your head.
“Good.” His smile is wicked. “Because I’m not done.”
KIM SEOKJIN/JIN
“Why are you being so dramatic?” you demand.
Jin scoffs loudly. “Me? You’re the one who turned nothing into a crisis.”
Your irritation spikes. “Because you never take anything seriously!”
His jaw flexes. “Oh, I take this seriously.”
You’re about to snap back when Jin steps forward so fast you stumble. He catches your waist, steadying you, but his eyes are blazing. “You talk too much,” he says, almost to himself.
You gasp, “Excuse me−.”
He kisses you, hard.
It’s unexpectedly intense. Jin, who was usually so composed, suddenly losing every ounce of that polished calm. His lips are warm and demanding, moving against yours with a mixture of frustration and something that feels dangerously close to hunger.
His hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him as if proximity could end the argument for good. You feel the heat rolling off him, the tension in his shoulders, and the way he exhales through his nose like he’s been holding back for far too long.
When he finally breaks the kiss, you’re breathless, clinging to him without meaning to.
He smiles smugly, but so devastatingly handsome. “See? Much better,” he says softly. “Now stop fighting me and let me kiss you again.”
YOONGI/SUGA
“You’re impossible!” you shout.
Yoongi stands there, arms crossed, expression flat, his eyes burning. “You’re the one twisting everything.”
“You never tell me what you’re thinking!”
“Because you don’t listen!”
You step closer. So does he. Neither of you back down.
Then Yoongi exhales as though he’s reached a breaking point. “I swear to God, Y/N−” he sighs.
You barely have time to register the shift before his hand slides to your waist and he yanks you forward. His lips crash into yours with a suppressed fire that steals the breath straight from your lungs.
The kiss is rough and desperate, as if every emotion he refuses to say has suddenly found one escape route. His fingers tighten at your hip, the other tilts your chin up, holding you exactly where he wants you.
Your anger dissolves instantly, replaced by heat pooling low and fast. Yoongi nips your lower lip just enough to make you gasp.
“That’s better,” he breathes against your mouth, his voice a deep rumble you swear you can feel in your soul. “You’re only loud when you’re mad. Not when I actually need you to hear me.”
He kisses you again, slower and deeper, and it feels like he’s making up for every word he never said.
HOBI/J-HOPE
Hoseok paces, hands in his hair. “I can’t believe you did that!”
“Oh please,” you argue, “you’re overreacting−.”
“Overreacting?” His laugh is high and theatrical. “You scared me!”
Your chest tightens. “You didn’t have to yell.”
He stops pacing and looks at you intently. He’s in front of you in two strides, his hands warm and shaking slightly as they cup your face. “You have no idea what you mean to me,” he whispers, his voice strained.
You blink, throat tight. “Hobi−.”
He kisses you before you can say anything else. It’s fiery and heated, almost frantic, as if he’s pouring fear, relief and affection into every second. His lips move against yours with consuming urgency, and you feel it everywhere at once −the tremble of his hands, the press of his body and the soft sound he makes when you kiss him back just as hard.
The argument fades like smoke.
When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests against yours, breath hot and uneven.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek. “I’ll kiss you senseless every time you try to argue with me.”
The way he’s looking at you makes you believe him.
PARK JIMIN
“You think you’re right about everything,” you accuse.
Jimin’s lips press into a thin line. “Only when I am right.”
You groan in frustration. “See? This is exactly−.”
He steps forward with that slow, deliberate confidence that always unravels you. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he says.
“Don’t call me−.”
Jimin kisses you mid-sentence. It’s deceptively soft at first, his full lips brushing yours like a tease. His fingers slide along your jaw, tilting your face up as he deepens the kiss with devastating precision.
He kisses like he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly what you need to forget your own name, let alone an argument. Your anger melts instantly, replaced by warmth that spreads fast through your entire body.
He pulls back just enough to speak against your lips. “You’re so loud when you think you’re right,” he whispers, breath tickling your skin. “But so quiet when I kiss you like this.”
He kisses you again, longer and sweeter, but with an undercurrent of heat that leaves you clinging to him.
When he finally lets you breathe, he smiles irresistibly. “So,” he says, “Do you still want to argue?”
NAMJOON/RM
His voice is low, tight with frustration as he towers over you. “You’re not listening,” he snaps, pushing a hand through his hair.
You fire back too quick and sharply, and the moment the words leave your mouth, Namjoon steps into your space like he’s done holding back.
“Y/N,” he growls, grabbing gently but firmly at your wrist. You try to pull away, but he tugs you closer. “Stop talking.”
You open your mouth. Big mistake.
His lips crash onto yours with fierce precision, swallowing every argument you thought you had. His other hand cups the back of your neck, thumb pressing just under your jaw in a way that melts your knees instantly.
The kiss is slow and purposeful at first, commanding, before he deepens it, his breath warm, his lips insistent, like he needs this more than he needs to win the fight. When he pulls back, you’re breathless and dizzy, your fingers curled into his shirt without realizing.
Namjoon smirks. “Now that you’re actually quiet,” he murmurs huskily, thumb brushing your lower lip, “−Can we talk like adults?”
But the look in his eyes tells you he’s not done kissing you −not even close.
synopsis: His heat is telling him he needs to go deeper. That he needs to do more. That he needs to breed.
j.jeongguk x f.reader
Ი︵𐑼 ┊: wc: 4.1k
Ი︵𐑼 ┊: genre: hybrid au, smut, fluff
Ი︵𐑼 ┊: content: rabbit hybrid!jeongguk, human!reader, established relationship, rut, straight smut, pwp pretty much the whole time, cervix penetration, overstimulation, marathon sex, heavy breeding kink, lots of cum, mild aftercare, kook gets a little anxious, mildly dubious consent (but you’re into it the whole time), lack of safe word discussion, i think that’s it :3 -> part of the ctrl the cold 2025 event
Ი︵𐑼 ┊: notes: The first fic of my winter series! I’m very excited to present to you all of these fics, I’ve been working on them for a while so I hope you all enjoy!! I have 10 weeks of fics lined up in the cue, so even if this fic isn’t your cup of tea, I hope you find something in there somewhere ^>^ !! I really love bunny!koo (and I have lots of other ideas of drabbles involving you too) but for now I’ll just leave it as this. Enjoy!
18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni -> smut begins right under the cut
“Shii– Shit! Jeongguk!”
Your voice is high, strained. Cracking from use, from the moans that Jeongguk somehow continues to pull from your slack form. Your cunt hardly able to clench anymore, cum and arousal practically pooling against the bed sheets. More and more of it somehow spilling from your cunt every time he thrusts deep inside of you.
You’re a complete wreck, to say the least.
Your pussy is red, sore. Your lips all puffed up from use, the inner walls practically screaming for a break that Jeongguk doesn’t allow. Your limbs tired, slumped against the mattress. The only thing still holding your hips up being the man behind you. Colours flick in and out of your vision, darkness wanting to take you as they spot in the corners of your eyes.
When you had agreed to help your sort-of boyfriend (he calls you his mate, explained it’s something similar to a boyfriend for hybrids but you couldn’t quite differentiate between the two) through his rut, you had never expected it to be like this. Even if he did live in the wild, even if he did act more on instinct than a typical hybrid, you never thought it could be this all-encompassing need. Had never imagined that the saying fuck like bunnies could be so utterly true for someone who is still still half human.
In all fairness, he had tried to warn you. Had tried to explain how insatiable he would be, how little of a rebound time he would need between rounds. How he was scared of losing control and breaking you.
The whole time, you had just reassured him. Calmed him down, promised him you could manage just fine. The voice in your head giggling over the wild rabbit’s mild concern. You had taken him before– you had already known he had a crazy amount of stamina, typically lasted 3 rounds before he was well and truly satisfied– how could his rut be much different?
You really should’ve done more research before you got involved with one, especially with your muted knowledge on hybrids in general. Before the bunny that was stealing veggies from your garden fell so completely into your heart that you could never deny him a single thing. Before he started courting you like a good rabbit would. Before he decided that he wanted to be with you forever.
Now, you’re regretting closing all of those tabs on google informing you about his species, figuring that he would tell you everything that you needed to know. That he would help you through it just like everything else in your relationship.
And at first, it was fine. Well and truly, it was.
About a week ago, Jeongguk had pounded against your back door with shaky hands, his entire body twitching in place. Soft brown ears perked upright, scanning back and forth while his foot threatened to thumb at the sign of anything. Clearly disturbed. Clearly upset.
He managed to maintain decorum when finally faced with you, doing everything in his power to not launch himself into your home and start scenting the place. Made it reek of him.
No, he was good. He waited until you invited him inside, gave you a little half hug and placed a kiss on your temple before he started walking around the perimeter. Traced around the edges of every room for no reason you could discern, picking up pillows and blankets along the way before he found his way into your bedroom.
You, you just let him go about his business. Knew it was his pre-rut kicking in, his head clogged up with the rumblings of his inner rabbit telling him what to do and where to go to make sure the house– den– burrow– whatever you wanted to call it was safe.
Let him rearrange your room into what felt safe. In fact, helped him with it. Helped him turn your bedroom into some-what of a bunny burrow– blankets covering every wall, blocking out the light from your window. Pillows and blankets scattered all across the floor, the largest pile on top of your mattress, removed from its bedframe, pressed into a corner.
Helped him when he got too manic about the fairy light placement, doing it for him while he just clung to your back, instructing you on where he wanted them hung. His face not leaving the crook of your neck, even for a moment. Barely glazing upwards at what you were doing, your scent already consuming him.
The next few days that followed included more bonding-time than you could ever imagine. Jeeongguk refused to leave you for even a second, going as far as to whine at the door whenever you went into the bathroom to pee. Muttering about how he just wanted to feel you, to make sure you were safe and that no other bucks were coming after you.
How they would find you in your locked bathroom, you weren’t sure. But you humoured him anyway. Let him scent you until your neck felt raw.
When his rut first started 3 days ago, it was manageable. Difficult, but manageable.
You could keep him under control– make him cum a few times with your hands, with your mouth. Make sure enough of his cum landed in your cunt to keep him satisfied until the next round of his rut would spike up.
Then, he let you feed him in the downtime. Let you clean him up in the shower once or twice, too. Plenty of naps included without fail as long as he could press his nose right up against your inner thigh. Let him smell his seed deep in your cunt.
He never told you it would get worse the closer it became to its end.
Now on the 4th day, he only seemed to be getting more and more manic. More insistent. More on edge.
Muttering about breeding you– about how you’re not bred yet and it’s driving him crazy. You should be bred by now, shouldn’t you? He would be able to tell if you were. He should be able to smell it and he can’t.
His nose pressing to your core after every round, refusing to fuck you anywhere but your quiverying, leaking hole. Making sure to fuck his cum back inside with his cock after every round, his fingers in the off chance he gets even slightly soft.
Round after round. Back to back. No break. No time to breathe or think about anything other than being filled up by Jeon Jeongguk. No time to do anything other than lay there and take his cock.
He’s been going at it since he woke up at noon, the sun now set beneath the horizon as the stars hang themselves high in the sky.
“It’s okay– It’s okay–” He mutters, voice high as somehow pleasure creeps up his spine once again. As he fucks into your sloppy hole over and over again without regard. Without concern for how you’re taking it, only knowing you can take more.
His hand weaves itself against your scalp, pushing your head down against the blanket as he takes you from behind for what feels like the millionth time.
“Just…” He grunts, his ears pinned back to his head. His tail twitching erratically at the base of his spine as he thrusts inside as deep as he can manage– a full inch of him still outside of your wet heat that he just can’t manage to fit inside.
“One more time… one more time mate.. You can take it, okay? You can.” He states, yet you can only give a half moan in response. Head feeling fuzzy, your body utterly drained. Not even sure how you’re still conscious after it all. Not sure if you still even feel anything below your waist.
“I just…” He huffs, hips working, grinding. Changing their course of thrusts to that of rough ruts, forcing as much of his cock into you as he can. Pressing incessantly against your cervix with the head, “Need to see my pretty human stuffed full, okay? I need it. Need it.”
He chants the phrase like a prayer. His expression pinching tight, nose scrunching up as he grinds his cock deep inside of you over and over again. The motion relentless, earth-shatteringly devastating.
“Need to get you pregnant. Wanna put my bunnies in you… that isn’t so bad, is it?” You slowly begin to feel the weight of him against your spine, his frame pressing against your own. “I just…”
He humphs again, clearly trying to find the right words in his dizzied mind. The only thing he can think of being breed, breed, breed. His rut is almost over, why aren’t you full of him yet? Why aren’t you getting pregnant like a good little doe?
Of course, his mind can’t possibly conceptualise birth control right now. Only the need to get deeper. To feel you more.
You’re barely hanging on.
You feel as thin as twine, but somehow, in some way you’re still there. Still in the moment with the love of your life as he does everything in his power to jackhammer into your raw, fucked out cunt. Unsure of how much more you can take, if you can truly help him through the rest of his– Oh.
Oh shit.
“I just need to get deeper, mate. I know I can.” His voice feels distant, yet close all at the same time. Right in your ear, across the room. All feelings and sensations blurring into one as you feel deeper, deeper, deeper pressure against your cervix than you’ve ever felt before.
Pressure forward, forward, forward inside of you. Against a place no one should ever go.
“So close, so close. –cum in here, I’ll get my pretty doe pregnant. ‘M know it. I do.” He’s barely making sense anymore either, too consumed, practically feral in his own right. “C’mon… just let me inside… let me go inside…”
Oh god. He’s going to break you.
You feel more conscious than you have been in the last few hours. All 5 of your senses springing to life all at once. The pain in your lower half coming back ten fold as you start to feel every stroke. Feel like the world is ending but beginning all at the same time.
Your pelvis hurts from his bruising grip, your legs wished to give out hours ago. Your whole body begins to tremble. Everything is too much. Everything.
“Hey.. shh shh shh..” As if sensing your impending panic, he already begins to soothe. His lips placing sloppy kisses at the ball of your spine, one of his hands releasing its grip on your hips to rub soothingly up and down your side. “It’s okay.”
Your eyes are already watering, though. A muffled cry tearing from your throat as he still doesn’t let up on the pressure deep inside. Pausing pressing forward, but keeping his cock’s presence there– known.
“Hurts– Hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts!” You’re a whimpering, messy thing. Hair tangled from sweat and the way he tossed you around so carelessly earlier in the day. Your frame begging for release, for some sort of reprieve from his frenzied breeding attempts.
“I know– I know baby, I do…” Even as he says it though, he lets out a whine. Feeling your slick walks pulse around him– trying to get him out or keep him in, neither of you are really sure. “I know.”
His free hand, the one that was gently trailing your sides now slides down to your stomach. Right to where your uterus sits under the skin. His thumb finding home against your flesh, rubbing soft, comforting circles into the surface.
If he was in his right mind, he’d ask if you want to stop. He’d check in a million times just to make sure the girl he loves the most in the world can take just a little bit more.
But he’s not in his right mind, the both of you know that well enough.
“After this, after this I promise it’s over. Promise I’ll be done.” The words feel hollow, even if he means them, “I just…”
God, he’s pressing forward again and the pain is all consuming. All consuming but something in you can’t tell him no. Doesn’t want to tell him to stop.
Something in you, despite how much it hurts, despite how much you need a break, wants him to continue on. Wants him to take everything he can from you, to use you for his pleasure alone. To just– do what he needs to do to get through this rut and make him happy.
He owes you big time when tomorrow comes. When his rut will finally subside.
His feet plant themselves on the bed, his entire weight pressing into your back as he manages to hold your hips up with shaky, manic hands. His cock no longer rocking to try and fuck his way past your cervix, but forcing his way inside by brute strength alone.
“Little more. Almost there. Almost there. Almost inside.” He pants, breathless. His lips pressed to the back of your neck, his teeth scratching against the surface with every word. Not a single grunt of his hidden from your ears, allowing you to hear just how much strain he’s putting into the movement.
“Almost there. Just a little more. Little more and then I can get you nice and pregnant. Can fill you up. Please please please!” He’s resorted to begging, feeling the wall ever so slowly give way to his impending need. Not stopping, not pausing to give it a second of reprieve until–
His gasp is somehow first, the loudest. The response is instantaneous as you feel his entire form tighten above you. Feel him shake out a chill travelling down his spine.
His voice fills your ear as you finally feel it deep inside. The final pop past the barrier. The searing pain of him engulfing you from the inside out setting all of your nerves on fire.
The head of his ruined cock inside of your womb. Him as deep inside of him as his anatomy would allow.
You let out a whine of a cry, your entire body responding to the intrusion in its entirety. The last bit of strength in your thighs giving way, your hands opening before fisting into the blanket. Your head shaking back and forth harshly as you adjust to the new, strange, demanding feeling deep inside of your gut.
You’re only given a second to adjust to the feeling. To accommodate the stretch of him inside of a place he shouldn’t be, but is. Claiming you whole, claiming you fully. The tight ring clamping down around him with everything that it has, holding him in tight. Making sure he doesn’t move out now that he’s decided to make a home inside.
Your boyfriend is already moving.
His senses have narrowed into one single thing. The once scrambled nature of his brain resolving itself into one directive now that he’s finally achieved his goal.
Breed. Fill. Rut.
His hips piston with precision, making sure to only pull out an inch before thrusting back inside. Making sure that the head of his cock never leaves the sanctity of your womb. Making sure that you feel all of him, the way he’s always felt all of you.
His ears are pinned back, his tail shuttered close to his body. His nails gripping into one of your hips for purchase, the other pressing against your womb from the outside. Feeling his dick. Feeling him slide in and out of you in more ways than one.
You hazard a glance between your thighs– difficult in your position, but done regardless. Breath huffing as you spot the mess between your thighs, spot the imprint of his dick poking from outside of your belly.
Your pupils widen.
Before, you weren’t sure if you could handle it, but now… how you feel heat rising from deep inside of you. Your cheeks beginning to burn crimson, your mouth falling open in a helpless gasp.
Fuck, fuck you really didn’t think it would be possible for you to cum again today. Really didn’t think you would be able to with how much everything hurts, how much everything just feels too much.
But the line between pleasure and pain has always been a thin one, hasn’t it?
Your walls clench tightly around his cock, the orgasm coming on much too quickly. Faster than you ever thought possible with the onslaught.
“Fuck– Fuck– so good, pretty doe! So good!” He’s breathless, whining in your ear. Though he’s had longer to work up his high, it’s clear it’s coming soon, too. “‘S tight around me. S’ tight and good!!”
He’s pitchy, not caring about the noise. About sounding attractive. About anything other than cumming deep inside of your womb.
The hand on your stomach dips lower, his finger tips pressing against your clit. The tight bundle of nerves twitching against the digits, feeling red hot from overuse, yet still pleasurable in an almost twisted way.
Your eyes close, a band in your belly pulling tight. A ball of knots forming, cascading into a feeling you’ve never felt before. Never even conceived your body could feel.
“Cum cum cum cum cum.” His voice is chanting another phase now. Begging, pleading with you to just let loose one final time so he can pretend this last round wasn’t out of pure selfishness. Pure lust and desire. Like this whole thing has been about you, too.
He still wants to show you he cares.
That cord that winded up so quickly inside of you begs, pleads with your body to let it snap. To let your orgasm just wash over you. To let you enjoy the feeling of his jackhammering hips, of the tip of his cock leaking deep inside.
“Please! Cum and I promise I’ll get you pregnant! Promise!”
And somehow, you do. That final sentence, his whimpering, whining tone finally sending you over the edge. Cascading over the edge of a waterfall as all of your joints lock up tight. As a high pitched cry leaves your throat. As your cunt clenches around him entirely, fully. Fluttering around him as each wave wrecks your very soul.
His dam breaks due to you. Perfect, utterly perfect, you.
As you try to breathe, try to take air into your lungs you feel his cock twitching restlessly inside of you. Spurt after spurt of cum unloading from his cock directly into your helpless womb. Flooding you, filling you up completely. Utterly.
If you had any more pieces of your shattered mind gathered up in your arms, you might wonder how he still has any cum left. Maybe you’ll hazard at the thought later when your eyes aren’t going black. When spots aren’t invading your vision, your brain finally pulling you under a cloak of black.
It takes a full two minutes for Jeongguk to recuperate from his orgasm. For his brain to slowly slip back into place as his rut subsides enough for him to return to consciousness. His spent length finally softening fully for the first time since he had woken up that very morning.
“Mate..?” He slowly asks, pulling his hips back enough that he removes himself from your cervix, but not enough that he’s out of you fully– some part of the back of his brain telling him to keep his cock inside, to keep anything from slipping out.
He leans his head up, sniffing at your pulse point. Still strong, still with him. Just asleep. A pretty girl tired, too giving. Needing a rest after everything he put your pretty little body through.
He sighs, nuzzling in your throat for only a moment. Basking in the afterglow, in how much he loves you.
Where he was once rough with you, he’s gentle now. Slowly, delicately moving your body onto its side, forming your front into the shape of his chest as he takes his place beside you. One of his arms wrapping around your waist, keeping you close, the other hooking your leg around his hip, keeping his cock nestled deep.
Keeping you protected from anything, anyone that might want to harm you.
He knows that tomorrow, he’ll have a lot of work cut out for him. By the time he wakes up, his rut should have completely subsided. By the time you wake up, you’ll need all the aftercare and love one bunny boy can manage.
Humans are so fragile, after all. He knows he probably took it too far. Should’ve talked about it with you first, set hard limits before he tried to fuck his way into your womb. Should’ve set safewords and spoke in detail before he tried anything like that. Will apologise profusely tomorrow, do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t hate him.
But as you snuggle closer to him, your pretty little pussy sending a weak flutter down his soft cock, he finds himself a little less worried. A little less nervous because he knows you're his.
Your eyes flutter open blearily for a second, staring up at his soft, mushy face. Your irises swimming as they try to focus on him, try to recover even slightly.
“Hey.” You croak softly, your throat raw. Thirsty. Tired.
“Hey.” Is all he can manage to say back, entirely awestruck by everything you. Cheeks already pink from the attention, acting boyish and sweet. As if he didn’t commit like 5 of the cardinal sins moments prior.
You giggle slightly to yourself, and Jeongguk swears his heart skips a beat. Is unsure how anything revolves around anyone but you. Is sure you’re his soulmate. Is sure he’d rather be dead than be without you, the love of his life.
Then, you’re leaning forward and he swears you’re an angel. Your chapped lips are placing a kiss to the tip of his nose and he wants to bite you. Make you his mate fully and completely. Or maybe get down on one knee instead, propose and make you his in the human ways he’s seen on the tv.
“Are you back with me now?” You ask softly, an arm that weighs a million pounds rising up, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead before reaching the base of his ear, scratching it gently. The close of his eyes an automatic reply.
“Mmm” He nods, knowing his brain is slowly coming back to him. Making him less of a mindless creature, a slave to the incessant urges that held him captive.
He opens his eyes again, trying to convey the sincerity in his expression while his tone might fail him, “‘M sorry if I hurt you. ‘M… I’m just sorry.”
You quickly– well, as quickly as the tiredness in your limbs allow– shake your head, trying to dismiss his thoughts, “‘T’s okay,” You pause for a second, reaching up to cup his jaw in both of your hands, “Didn’t hurt me. …Well, hurt in the moment. And I’m sore now, too, but…”
He flinches slightly, looking away. You continue before he manages to get the chance to get in his head, “but I liked it, too. It.. it felt weird.. Weird but good, I think.”
His eyes widen, looking up at you with something akin to quiet revere. Like he would do anything for you. Like he would hang the stars in the sky, burn down the planet if it just meant he could see that bright little twinkle in your eye that he holds so dear.
“Not–” You attempt to stop any imperative ideas that might be leaking into his head, “--that I want to try again now. Or any time soon. But I didn’t hate it. Just– just we have to talk about it next time you want to try something like that.”
Bunny teeth are in front of you now, wide and bright as he finally lets go of any worry or self doubt that you might want to break up with him now. His head dipping forward, nipping at one of the love bites he left on your neck.
“I love you.” He mumbles sweet, cloying. Somehow tugging you closer to his form, somehow still managing to have some playful energy in him despite how exhausted you are.
You let out a giggle, weak arms pushing at his shoulders in a barely there protest to give you some space. “I love you too, Gguk.”
You don’t think you could ever hate him. Hell, you think you might’ve even liked it more than you would ever be willing to let on. Thrived under how desperate he was, how utterly infatuated he seemed to be, but… but maybe next time you’ll ask him to not take the 99.99% effectiveness of your birth control as a personal challenge.
