Naiyah

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 yes that’s a warning, 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

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“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. 

-

-

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! ⇥ here!

It sat somewhere under his ribs, dull and persistent, like a bruise he kept pressing without meaning to. The bar was too loud, full of overlapping voices, clinking glasses, bursts of laughter that came too easily for a random Thursday night. Someone had opened it that night, a friend of a friend, which meant half the room was familiar faces and the other half pretending to be. Jungkook stood in the middle of it, drink in hand, nodding along to a conversation he hadn’t been listening to for the past ten minutes.

He laughed when they laughed. Said “yeah” at the right time. Took a sip when there was a pause. But his mind was somewhere else entirely.

On you.

On his phone. On the last message he had sent that still sat there, unanswered.

He shifted his weight, pulling his phone out again without thinking, thumb already unlocking it like muscle memory. The screen lit up, and there it was… your chat, pinned, untouched, still with that stupid nickname he reserved only for you. His last message from earlier that afternoon:

Are you going tonight?

Delivered.

His jaw tightened slightly. It was stupid. Such a small thing. You were probably busy, or you hadn’t seen it, or you were ignoring him on purpose— which, honestly, would have made sense too. A lot of more sense than you actually replying. He exhaled through his nose, locking the phone again a second later, slipping it back into his pocket like it burned him.

“…and then he just left, like actually left, didn’t even say goodbye—”

Jungkook blinked, dragged back into the conversation mid-sentence. “What?”

His friend snorted. “You weren’t even here, man.”

“I was,” Jungkook said automatically, lifting his drink slightly. “Just tired.”

“Sure,” another one chimed in, eyeing him. “Or thinking about her.”

The word landed heavier than it should have.

Jungkook didn’t react immediately, just took another sip, slower this time. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” the first guy shrugged, leaning back against the bar. “You two were… you know.”

“Yeah,” someone else added, “everyone thought you’d last longer.”

Jungkook let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Good to know everyone had bets on it.”

There was a brief pause, the kind that filled with things people didn’t say out loud.

It had been a stupid fight. That was the worst part. Not something explosive, not cheating or lying or anything dramatic enough to justify how final it felt now. Just time. Or the lack of it. Work piling up, schedules not matching, you getting tired of asking for space in his life that should have already been yours.

You had argued about it before. Multiple times.

And every time, Jungkook had said the same thing: it’ll get better. I’ll make more time.

It didn’t. He didn’t.

And now you weren’t answering his texts. Which— fine. Okay. He got it. You were mad. You had every right to be. But there was something about the silence that felt… different that time. Not angry. Not temporary but final.

Final. That thought made something twist uncomfortably in his chest.

“Speak of the devil,” someone muttered.

Jungkook’s head lifted before he could stop himself. “What?”

His friend tilted his chin slightly toward the other side of the bar. “She’s here.”

For a second, Jungkook didn’t move. Then he turned. And there you were.

Across the room, near one of the high tables, surrounded by people he vaguely recognized. You were laughing at something someone said, head tilted back slightly, hair falling over your shoulder in a way he knew too well. There was a drink in your hand, your posture loose, comfortable, confidence that you always carry so well.

Like nothing was wrong. Like nothing had ended. Like you weren’t as hurt as he was.

Jungkook’s fingers tightened subtly around his glass.

“Not surprising,” one of his friends said. “She’s still friends with Sooka, right?” he was the one opening the bar.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Figures.”

Jungkook hummed faintly, but he wasn’t really hearing them anymore.

He was watching you, trying to figure something out he couldn’t quite name. You looked the same. Exactly the same. And somehow… not.

“Yo, Jungkook—”

He didn’t respond.

“—hey, are you even—”

“What?” he snapped, a little sharper than intended, dragging his gaze back to them.

His friend raised his hands slightly. “Relax. I was just asking if you wanted another drink.”

“I’m good.”

“You sure? You look like you need one.”

Jungkook almost said something back, but another voice cut in, lighter, distracted.

“Guys did you see the videos from last week?”

“What videos?”

“The party. Someone posted a bunch, they even got Kyung taking his shirt off.”

That caught Jungkook’s attention just enough.

“What party?” someone asked.

“Last Friday. The one at Minho’s place.”

“Oh, that one. Yeah, I heard it got messy.”

“It did,” the guy grinned, already pulling his phone out. “Look at this…”

He turned the screen around, and a small group leaned in. Jungkook didn’t, not at first. He was still half-looking across the room, still aware of where you were, what you were doing.

But then the phone got shoved closer to him.

“Look, look— this part…”

Jungkook sighed quietly, glancing down more out of obligation than interest. He had been at the party for ten minutes, when he didn’t find you he just left with Taehyung who had been eager to go back home and leave the place.

The video was exactly what he expected. Loud music, shaky camera, people dancing too close, laughing too hard. His friend taking his shirt off and making a fool of himself once again. Nothing important. Nothing he cared about. He was about to look away— and then he didn’t.

Because something in the background shifted.

Not the focus of the video. Not what the person filming intended. But a person he immediately recognized there. A person he could recognize in any place, in any clothes, in any setting.

You.

… And Taehyung.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly, his attention snapping into place without warning.

The video kept playing, but he wasn’t watching anything else anymore. You were standing near the edge of the frame, half-obscured by other people, talking. Close. Too close for his liking. Taehyung leaned in in the counter and closer to you to say something, and you laughed… head dipping, shoulder brushing his.

A reaction he knew too well.

I was small, it was nothing. It shouldn’t have meant anything. But it did. Because he could recognize when you weren’t just talking to someone but entertaining them.

Jungkook straightened slightly. “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Go back.”

His friend paused, confused. “What?”

“Go back,” Jungkook repeated, more focused now.

The guy rewound a few seconds. “This part?”

“Yeah.”

They watched it again.

This time Jungkook didn’t miss anything. The way Taehyung’s body angled toward you. The way you didn’t pull away. The ease of you entertaining his friend, flirting.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

“Oh, is that Taehyung?” someone shrugged. “He was at the party too, right? Didn’t he leave early?.”

Jungkook didn’t answer.

Because he knew that wasn’t entirely a lie. He left early, but he had arrived there early too.

“Show me more,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“More videos. From that night.”

His friend frowned slightly. “Why?”

“Just show me.”

There was a brief hesitation, then a shrug. “Okay… I think there’s more on Kyung’s page. You know how he likes to post every party event.”

Jungkook didn’t wait. He was already pulling his own phone out, already opening the app, searching. The account came up quickly. Posts and highlights from every party his friend went to, even reposts, from last week, from different nights.

He scrolled. One story. Another. Nothing. Just crowds, drinks, music. His thumb moved faster. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll—

There.

Videos posted the weekend before. Same place, same lighting. He started watching it like he was a damn FBI agent looking for the most wanted criminal. Video after video and for a second it was nothing again, just people dancing, laughing, moving through the frame.

Then the camera shifted slightly to the last post, someone was talking about their favourite alcohol drinks like an influencer. And in the background—

Taehyung.

Pushing someone out of the bathroom where you were standing inside.

Jungkook’s breath caught, just barely.

The movement was quick, almost easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. A hand on a shoulder, a shove, a door opening. The guy stumbled out, clearly confused, saying something the video didn’t catch. And then Taehyung stepped inside, the door closing behind him with intention.

Jungkook didn’t move. He didn’t even blink for a minute. The video kept playing, but it didn’t matter anymore. Because suddenly, everything connected in a way that made his stomach drop.

You.

The first video. The way you had looked that night. The silence afterwards. Taehyung acting weird lately. Taehyung saying he didn’t know if you were there. The bathroom.

His grip tightened around his phone.

“What’s up?,” someone muttered beside him, noticing over his shoulder. “Did you find something…?”

Jungkook didn’t answer.

Because he did. The thought was already there, fully formed, sharp and ugly and impossible to ignore. Something had happened. And it wasn’t just with anyone. It was him, Taehyung, one of his best friends.

Slowly, almost mechanically, Jungkook lifted his head. Looked across the bar again and found you immediately. But this time you weren’t alone. You were standing close to Taehyung. Talking like nothing had ever happened, or like everything already had.

Anger started growing in his veins.

Jungkook couldn’t stop looking at you two.

It was worse now that he knew— or thought he knew. Before, there had been doubt, something he could twist into something else, something harmless. A coincidence, a bad angle. A misunderstanding. Now there was none of that. Now there was just the image burned into his head. Taehyung’s hand on that door, the way he had stepped inside like he belonged there. Like he had a reason to be in a room with you.

Like you were already waiting for him.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard it started to ache, but he barely noticed. His grip around his phone tightened until his knuckles went pale, the edges digging into his palm. Across the bar, you were still there. Still grinning. Still leaning slightly toward Taehyung like nothing in the world had shifted.

Like you hadn’t just—

His stomach turned, something sharp and ugly twisting inside him.

Of course Taehyung had tried something. Jungkook wasn’t stupid. He had known for a long time. The way Taehyung looked at you sometimes… too long, too interested, too aware. The jokes that leaned a little too close to flirting. The way he always somehow ended up near you in group settings.

Jungkook had noticed.

He just hadn’t thought— No. That wasn’t true. He had thought about it. He just hadn’t believed you would ever give in.

And that… that was the part that made his chest feel tight now. Not that Taehyung wanted you. That was expected. It was that you might have wanted him back. That you might have let him have you the way he once did. That you had broken up with Jungkook and, instead of missing him, instead of needing space or time or anything he had convinced himself you needed—

You had gone to Taehyung.

His best friend.

Jungkook let out a quiet, sharp breath, dragging a hand down his face. This was insane. It could still be nothing. It could still…

He looked back up and saw the way Taehyung leaned closer to you again. Saw the way you didn’t move away like usually did. The way you were still there, still talking to him.

That was it. Something snapped clean in his chest. He was moving before he fully registered it, pushing himself off the bar, barely hearing someone call his name behind him. His steps were quick, direct, cutting through the crowd without hesitation, his focus locked on one thing only. On you, on him.

You noticed him too late.

By the time your eyes flicked up and met his, he was already there, already too close, already reaching for you. His hand closed around your arm, firm, unyielding, fingers digging in just enough to make you frown in confusion.

“Jungkook— what—”

“Shut up.”

It wasn’t a request.

“What the fuck—?”

Over his shoulder, his eyes flicked back briefly, locking with Taehyung’s for half a second. There was no confusion there. No question, just something dark and warning. “We’ll talk later,” Jungkook said, voice low but sharp enough to cut through.

You barely had time to react before he was pulling you away, out of the conversation, out of Taehyung’s reach, through the crowd toward the back hallway. The music got muffled the further you went, replaced by the dull echo of footsteps and your voice trying to keep up with him.

“Jungkook, what the hell— let go!—”

He didn’t. Didn’t even slow down.

Then he was turning away again, pulling you the rest of the way down the hall until he found the first door, shoving it open without checking and dragging you inside.

It was small. Bare. Some kind of storage office, maybe for cleaning supplies. A desk shoved in the middle of the place, a chair in a corner, shelves with random things stacked unevenly.

The door slammed shut behind you.

And suddenly it was quiet. The music barely making it inside.

Jungkook let go of your arm, but only because he needed the space, needed a second to breathe before he did something worse. His chest was rising and falling too fast, his hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

You were already moving. “Are you insane?” you snapped, turning toward the door. “What is wrong with you—”

“Did you fuck him?”

The words cut through the room so fast they almost didn’t register. You froze immediately. Actually froze. Your hand paused on the handle, your whole body going still for just a second too long.

And that was enough.

Jungkook laughed, but there was nothing amused about it. It came out sharp, disbelieving, almost breathless. “Wow.”

You turned back slowly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he shot back immediately, stepping closer. “Don’t ask? Don’t notice? Don’t put two fucking things together?”

“You don’t get to come in here and—”

“Did you?” he cut you off again, louder this time, the restraint slipping. “It’s a simple question.”

“Do you think I would fuck—?”

“You better not fucking lie to me,” his voice was demanding, rough, scary.

There was a silence. Your jaw tightened. “It’s none of your business if I did.”

That answer hit worse than anything else.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, something darker settling in. “None of my—” he repeated, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”

You crossed your arms, defensive now, already pulling away from the conversation. “We broke up, Jungkook.”

“Yeah,” he snapped. “I’m aware.”

“So what I do— who I see—”

“Who you see?” he laughed again, sharper this time. “You’re seeing him now? Is this a fucking joke?”

“I’m not seeing him and I didn’t—” You took a step toward the door again. “I’m not doing this with you. We’re done.”

He moved faster, hand slamming hard against the door before you could reach it, blocking your way completely. The sound echoed in the small room, making you flinch just slightly.

“Yes, you are.”

“Move.”

“No.”

“Jungkook—”

“Answer me.”

Your eyes flashed. “You don’t even fucking care. If this is an ego thing then no— I didn’t fuck him.”

That made him pause. Just for a second.

Because the answer was right there, sitting in his chest, heavy and undeniable and humiliating in a way he didn’t want to put into words. Because it shouldn’t matter. Even if it was an ego thing it shouldn’t matter. Because you weren’t his anymore. Because he had lost that right. And still—

“I care,” he said, voice lower now, rougher, “and not because an ego thing.” You didn’t say anything. And that silence stretched. “You could’ve picked anyone,” he went on, stepping closer again, his voice tightening with every word. “Anyone. And you go for him?”

“I didn’t ‘go for’ anyone—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped. “I saw the videos.”

“Videos?,” you snorted, humourless. “What— me and him fucking?.”

“No, you and him in that fucking party last week.” That made your expression flicker. A small and quick motion, but he caught it. You didn’t say anything snarky. “Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “That’s what I thought.”

You exhaled sharply, frustration bleeding through now. “It was a party, Jungkook. People talk, people drink—”

“People don’t end up in bathrooms together for no reason.”

The words landed hard. Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came out.

Jungkook stepped even closer, until there was barely any space left between you, his voice dropping into something quieter, more dangerous.

“Was he better than me?”

Your head snapped up. “What?”

“Was he better,” he repeated, slower this time, like he wanted you to hear every word, “or were you just that desperate to get over me?”

“Fuck you,” you shot back immediately, shoving at his chest. “You don’t get to say that—”

He caught your wrist before you could pull away, grip tight, not letting you go this time.

“Then what was it?” he demanded. “What— one week and you’re already— what? Letting someone else touch you? Spreading your legs for my best friend—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Why?” he pushed. “Does it make it more real if we say it out loud?”

That did it. Something in your expression shifted, anger breaking through whatever restraint you had left. “You don’t get to do this,” you said, voice shaking now, louder. “You don’t get to act like you care after everything.”

“I do care—”

“Then where were you?” you shot back. “Where were you when I was asking for time? When I was asking for you to show up? You didn’t care then you don’t care now. You just don’t want me to move on.”

“That’s not—”

“You don’t get to ignore me for months and then suddenly decide you’re entitled to know who I’m with.”

The words hit him hard. Jungkook’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his jaw clenching again. “So this is what this is?” he said, quieter now, but no less intense. “You’re proving a point?”

“No,” you snapped. “I’m not proving anything to you because I don’t give a fuck about you anymore. We’re done.”

And those words landed between you like something solid. Like it was final. Jungkook stared at you for a second, something flickering across his face, anger, disbelief, something else underneath it that he didn’t let fully surface.

“Right,” he said finally, voice flat. “And now you’ll go to him?.” You didn’t answer. And that silence… It drove him insane. “Say it,” he pushed, stepping closer again, backing you up until the back of your shoulders brushed the wall. “Say it and I’ll drop it.”

“I don’t owe you—”

“Say it. Say that you’ll go to him. Say you don’t want me anymore.”

Your breathing hitched slightly, your back pressing harder against the wall as he closed the distance completely, his presence overwhelming in the small space.

“Jungkook—”

“Say it,” he repeated, softer this time, but somehow worse. “Tell me you want him.”

You swallowed. Your eyes flickered to his mouth for half a second— barely noticeable. But he saw it.

And that was it.

That was all it took, something in him snapped completely. His hand came up to your jaw, rough, not gentle, tilting your face up toward his as he leaned in, the last inch of space disappearing in a second.

And when he kissed you it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t hesitant. It was angry, desperate. Messy in a way that felt like he had been holding it in for too long and didn’t know how to do it any other way anymore. Jungkook’s lips smashed against yours like he’d been starving for it, like he couldn’t breathe without tasting you. His hands were everywhere— grabbing your waist, sliding up your back, threading through your hair— claiming, desperate, unrelenting.

Every thought he had was sharp and brutal: the thought of you with someone else, Taehyung’s stupid smug grin, the way he got to touch you, the way he got to hear your sweet sounds. The way he probably got to taste you and kiss you like that… it made him furious, desperate.

He pressed closer, chest against yours, like if he didn’t physically own you, he’d lose you entirely.

When he pulled back just slightly, just enough to see your face, his eyes were wild, dark with jealousy. “Was he better than me?” His voice was low, tight with anger, but trembling under the weight of his desire.

You froze. You opened your mouth, closed it, said nothing, tried to pull back. But he roughly grabbed your jaw with his fingers, making you pout slightly and tilting your head toward him, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Answer me,” he snapped, desperation sharpening his tone. “Was he better?”

Your silence was fuel to him, making something in his chest twist, making him kiss you harder, more urgently, as if trying to erase every trace of that possibility. He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing fast, whispering against your lips, “I’ll fucking show you… I’ll show you exactly who’s better.”

“Don’t— ”

“Now you talk?” He shook his head angrily. “You better keep your fucking mouth shut if you’re not answering right.”

Jungkook didn’t let you protest, kissing you hardly again.

He knew two things now: 1. He was going to fuck you senseless, and 2. He was going to kill Kim Taehyung after he was done with you.

His hands didn’t stop, roaming possessively, memorizing your body the way his mind wouldn’t let him forget. He kissed you like he was claiming you, like the second he let go, you might disappear into someone else’s arms forever. Every push, every pull, every heated second was coated with the anger, obsession, and need he couldn’t control. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t thinking. He was Jungkook— possessive, furious, and completely undone by the idea that you weren’t his anymore.

No, no— you were. You were his. He was going to show you. He was going to remind you.

You were still his. Jungkook was going to erase every trace of him.

Even as your lips parted and you tried to get words out, he silenced you with another sharp, hungry kiss, letting his hands and body speak for the fury he couldn’t contain. His mind spun with every memory, every image of you with anyone else, twisting into one single, obsessive thought: you’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget it.

“Get on your knees.”

It wasn’t a request. Jungkook’s voice was hard and rough, he was commanding you to do as he said so. You still opened your mouth to say something but he immediately pushed you down. His hand on your shoulder making you crunch down until you were on your knees.

“It wasn’t a fucking question.”

You’ve never seen Jungkook angry like that and somehow it just made your body vibrate with anticipation.

You were on your knees in the middle of a dark janitor’s closet, in a new bar, wood floor rough against your bare skin, heart hammering so loud you swore it echoed. Jungkook’s eyes glanced down at you. Dark and hard. His gaze moving at your glossy wet lips, and he had to stop himself to kiss you again by putting his thumb against your lips instead.

“Open,” you did. And he forced his thumb in. You gripped his forearm, and he forced himself forward, pressing his thumb down on your tongue so you would suck a it, almost making you gag. “Yeah? Miss having a real dick?. Couldn’t even spent a month without having to look for it?”

He pushed his thumb out of your mouth, his hands going straight to unbuckle his jeans. You looked up as he started pumping himself over his clothes, getting harder at the sight of you.

“I didn’t,” you said to him.

Jungkook started breathing harder. Hope growing in his chest. “You didn’t fuck him?.”

“No, I did. I just didn’t have to look for it. Taehyung find me.”

You did fuck him.

Jungkook was definitely going to kill him.

And he was going to make you choke on it.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. His gaze darker than before. He was so horny and so angry it was going in pair. He moved his underwear down, his cock immediately jumping out to hit his abs. He looked so delicious like that, ready to make you do whatever he wanted to. Ready to make you regret even thinking about other man that wasn’t him. He could imagine you kneeling like that for Taehyung and that thought only made him want to go harder on you.

“You know what I didn’t miss? That fucking smart mouth.” His thumb stroked your cheek, almost tender, before he guided your head forward. “Open wide. Gonna remind you how to take a real man.”

He didn’t wait, didn’t prepare himself. He just wanted to make you feel him. He just wanted to be close to you in any way, remind you he could still make his way into you.

His fingers pressed hard in your cheeks, making you open your mouth and he slide in slow, letting you feel every inch stretching your jaw. The head popped past your lips with a wet sound, thick and hot on your tongue. You tasted skin and salt and him, his veins dragging along the flat of your tongue as he pushed deeper, inch by inch disappearing into the wet heat of your mouth.

He let your cheeks go. You whined around him, the sound muffled and pathetic, and it made him groan. His hips finally rolled forward, shallow at first, feeding you more until the head nudged the back of your throat. Your eyes watered instantly, lashes clumping, but you didn’t push him away. You just blink up at him, tears spilling, remembering how it felt to take him.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook nodded slowly, his fingers sinking into your hair. “Gonna use what is mine.”

He started fucking your mouth in earnest then. First slow, controlled strokes that let you feel every ridge, every vein sliding over your tongue. Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his jeans that were in the middle of his thighs, trying to steady yourself while he used your throat like it was his.

But even when he was fucking your throat Jungkook couldn’t forget that you were like this with another man. That you decided to do this with someone else.

It fucked him up the fact that you were actually moving on, able to fuck another person without feeling like you were betraying him. It pissed him off that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. That he couldn’t ever stop thinking about you. Even if he was angry, even if you were to fuck someone else tomorrow. He would stuffed your throat and fuck you senseless until you understood that no one could ever compare to him. He would be behind you, reminding you that every day if he had to.

He wondered if you even knew what it felt like to be this crazy over someone. He wasn’t even able to phantom another person doing that for you— you wouldn’t have enough room in your mind to think about him if that were the case, right?.

Jungkook pulled away from you. You coughed slightly, eyes filled with tears. He didn’t even spare you a second gaze before taking a seat in the old chair next to the wall, spreading his legs.

“Come here. Wanna see you crawl.”

You shouldn’t.

Jungkook didn’t know if you were asking for forgiveness, you don’t seem like it. You actually didn’t even look guilty for fucking Taehyung so he didn’t know why you still played with him. Crawling back to him like you were still his. But he wasn’t going to complain, he was going to take whatever he could out of you. He’ll take whatever you want from him, even if it was playing a part to get you off.

“Kook—”

“You know what I like.”

You positioned yourself between his legs. Your hand moved the base of his cock, squeezing it slightly. Jungkook didn’t move, watching you with boredom. You looked down at him. His veins bulged under the skin, thick and ridged, pulsing when you gave another tentative squeeze. One fat vein snaked right along the underside, throbbing harder every time your thumb brushed over it.

“You can do better,” Jungkook muttered, voice low and strained, one big hand cupping the back of your head.

He was looking so composed except for the way his cock twitched in your grip and the bead of precum already leaking from the slit.

You stuck out your tongue, slowly licking from the base to the head of his cock. Jungkook’s nails gripped the chair hard. Your lips kissed his mushroom tip and he was done for. He was sure that he will kill anyone who ever thinks has the right to touch you ever again.

You licked the head over and over like it was some damn popsicle. Jungkook let out a low sigh deep inside his chest. His hips rising uncontrollably, spreading his legs further for you, hand gently caressing your head.

“Take me inside your mouth,” his quiet command had your eyes fluttering up at him. He wanted to kiss you so bad but he knew you didn’t deserve it. Looking all dolled up, with runny mascara from your tears, and flushed cheeks from your nasty doing. Did you dress like that for Taehyung? Did you think you were going to end up fucking him tonight?. “Open wide— yes, yea’ just like that—“ Jungkook groaned watching you suck his fat tip into your mouth, tongue circling his slit.

“I can—”

“Shut up,” he roughly guided you down again. “Shut the fuck up and take sum’ore, nghh—“ His other hand pushed his loose strands back, playing with his lip piercing to prevent the noises threatening to come out. “Fuck,” his back arched slightly, head thrown back as he gripped the chair. “Yeah, meant to be like this. On your knees just for me— ngh, shit. You piss me off so bad. Did he— did he get you like this too?.”

“He didn’t,” you finally answered, innocently glancing up at him like you weren’t smothering his cock like it was your favourite dessert and you weren’t talking about how his best friend fucked you.

Weirdly, that statement made Jungkook feel better.

“Good. That pretty mouth is only mine.” You kissed again his oozing tip before swallowing him. “That’s right, fuckin’ mine. Takin’ me, just me— Say it.” He grabbed your hair, pulling you away to make you look at him without his cock in your mouth. “Say you’re mine.”

“Make me,” you breathed out before sticking your tongue again, licking his tip.

Jungkook clenched his teeth, “you fuckin’ whore,” his abs tensed even more as you picked up the pace, gagging occasionally, but still stroking his base at the same speed. His eyes struggled to stay open, the pleasure making his mind foggy as you choked more of his cock into your tight hot mouth. “Only mine, mine. Get it in your fucking head— shit, shit, f-fuck,” Jungkook stammered, jaw loosening as his abs flexed. the sound alone had you choking a bit as a moan left your throat.

He tugged your head, a low grunt escaping from deep in his chest when you started whining.

“Gonna have your throat stuffed like this for weeks so you fucking understand who you belong to,” he bit his lip, slowly thrusting his hips into your mouth. You gagged even more but remained in the mission of sucking him dry, barely whining around him as you gripped his thighs. “Dumb girl.”

Another moan threatened to slip past his lips, he let it out. His other hand pressed a palm against your forehead, brushing your sweat with his thumb.

Your tongue swiped against that one vein that sent immediate jerks throughout his body. “Wait, wait— fuckin’ shit. Will come inside you not in your mouth.”

You pulled off, gasping for air. Jungkook’s head falling back slightly. You were so good for him. Once again, your tongue swiped against the sensitive vein. “The fuck did I tell you,” he pulled from your hair roughly to keep you away from his cock. You breathed heavily. Your cheeks flushed, mouth open and panting as sticky strings of spit and pre cum connected your bottom lip to his drooling tip.

Jungkook thought how you looked the prettiest like that.

He groaned when his tongue collided with yours, kissing you hard again. Hot and desperate and aching to be further inside you than he could get. Jungkook wanted you to choke on him, to feel and think nothing but him, and even that won’t be a tenth of how he felt for you. He wanted you to see it, to realize how bad you’ve got him.

But he also wanted to put in your place.

His mind couldn’t stop imagine scenarios where Taehyung was in his place. Touching you, feeling you, talking sweet and nasty things into your ear, tasting you like that. It made his heart stopped, his veins getting warmer, his mind clouded in anger and desperation.

Jungkook pushed you to the desk, feet dragging the chair behind him. His hands moved your skirt to your hips and he quickly made you sit in the cold wood, opening your legs to discover what he missed the most. What was his, what he needed to remind who it belonged to. He put himself between your legs, panties already soaked. Even as your chest rose and fell, you held yourself up, letting him put your feet on the edge of the desk and spread your legs apart completely.

His cock, colored in a deeper shade of wisteria with protruding veins woven around, slid on the thin layer of your dampened panties. Your thighs were parted even more with his obstinate hands, having you in full view.

Your cotton panties were too wet, clinging on to you, even more so due to him caressing and pressing it on your skin with the help of his shaft to vividly showcase the lining of your cunt. A string of thick pre-cum on his slit, dispersed itself on the wetness of your panties. “hm, dripping for me already,” he uttered through clenched teeth, rubbing the underside of his length on to your clothed folds. “yeah, feel this huh? Fucking mine. She’s crying for me.”

“S’ good, Kook,” you whined.

“Yea?” You let out a visceral moan when his tip nudged your clit with a hard motion. His cockhead traced the outline of your cunt. “Bet he couldn’t make you feel like this, huh. Thinks he can get away with takin’ what’s mine— shit, gonna fucking murder that bastard.”

“F-fuck, fuck—”

His plump head rolled over your aching clothed bud. It was messy and sticky, Jungkook started scrawling out the letters of his name against and around your clit. Whispering with it too, “Mhm, keep making those pretty sounds for me. Look how wet and ready you are. Throbbing for me. I know how much you missed me.” He muttered, not talking to you but your pussy. “Miss you too, pretty” Jungkook gave your cunt a soft tap that left the air filled with a wet plop! “Never letting you go again. Gonna keep you busy and full all the time.”

Jungkook pulled away, falling to the chair. Rough palm caressing your thighs before he started biting them.

“Kook—”

“Next time you wanna open your legs for a dumb fucking loser you better think twice.” He said, eyes dark as he looked at your panties and your cute wet mound sticking to the material. His thumb stroking your inner thigh. “Will fuck this pussy again and again until you understand she’ll never not be mine.”

Jungkook easily hooked a finger and slid your panties to the side, leaning down, tongue sticking out as he licked a wet strip up your sweet cunt.

And before you could even properly moan he was wrapping his arms around your thighs, shoving his face even deeper making you jolt and whimper loudly.

Jungkook’s eyes rolled back. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of him enjoying that so much but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to show you why you would never get away from him, why he would never let you go. He didn’t want you to think about another man ever again, didn’t like the thought that he was so stupid to almost let you go. He didn’t like the fact that you were about to leave him. The fact that you got so close to move on from him that you let another man fucked you.

He hated it. He hated it so much.

His teeth bit down your clit softly, making you sob at the painfully delicious feeling. Your cunt was practically pouring with arousal as he shoved his lips back in. Jungkook couldn’t believe he spent weeks without putting his mouth between your legs. He should’ve thrown you in a private place and fuck you dumb before. He shouldn’t have let you walk away so easily.

He thought how he’ll never do it again. He’ll never let you go like that. He’ll never let you even think about it.

The sweet taste of your juices had him moaning against you. He was about to pull away to fuck you properly but you didn’t let him. “S’ close— Kook, please,” your nails dug into the back of his neck, forcing him to continue eating you out.

If he wanted too, he could pull away easily but having you force his head between your thighs had him going feral, grateful you needed him that bad. He wanted so badly to make you go dumb, that the only thing you could think of was him and his touch. Him making you feel good, him touching you in the parts you needed him the most.

Jungkook dragged his tongue up slow, circling your clit with the tip before sucking it into his mouth hard enough to make your back arch off the desk. You slapped a hand over your own mouth to muffle the whimper.

He licked you like he had been waiting to all day. Desperately and deep, tongue flattening, dragging, nosing up against your clit while his hands gripped your thighs to keep you wide open and wobbling. He was not gentle. He was eating you to make a point, moaning into your cunt while your fingers claw his hair and your mouth opened around a pathetic sound you didn’t mean to make.

“Messy little whore,” he said looking at you, tongue dragging a slick stripe through your folds like he was eating his plate clean, “should make you say sorry with your legs open.”

He stopped.

You whined, so close to your release it made you almost cry in frustration, “no, no, no— please, kook—”

“Yea? Think begging will work now?” Jungkook stood up, messily cleaning your juice from his jaw and nose with his shirt before looking at you. “Say it.”

“W-what?” you frowned confused.

“Say you’r mine,” he said again. His hand move to your cunt, brushing his fingers against your clit.

“Kook,” you whined.

Jungkook lose his patience. Your sopping cunt continued to leak as he teased you more and more, and it was the most satisfying sight in the world to see you shake with need beneath him. “What? you’re not mine now?. Wan’ me to fuck you now so then you’ll jump to the next guy who can fuck you open in whatever place you want, huh?” Your hole fluttered, practically begging him to put something inside, but he only dragged his finger up to your clit to tease you there too. “Fucking needy girl. Who else you wanna fuck? Another friend of mine?”

“Only you,” you finally said, hips rubbing in his long rough fingers looking for more. “Swear only you,” you admitted sweetly.

“I don’t believe you now.”

“Swear— I swear,” you nodded frivolously, voice broken. “Only yours, I’m only yours, baby.”

Baby.

You were a manipulative horny bitch.

Jungkook hated how much he could love you.

“Yea’ that’s right. Just mine.”

Before you knew it he was putting you down the desk and turning you around. Then suddenly pressed you down until your chest was flush against the desk. Skirt rolled up to your hips, cheek pressed to the cold wood. He got rid of your panties really quickly, bringing them up to his nose to inhale your sweet juices. It made his cock harden even more, pre cum leaking.

His fingers quickly found his way to your hot cunt, fingering you really roughly, intensifying his thrusts to hear you yelp in pain under him.

“Need me to stretch out that tight hole, get you ready for a real cock,” he muttered. “Or not?. Maybe needy whores like you don’t need this, right? Should fucked you dry the moment I closed that door.”

It didn't take long for him to replace his fingers with his cock.

In one hard and fast motion he was inside you. Jungkook didn’t care whether you were struggling to take him right, didn’t care whether your sultry cunt was bulging with the size of him already. He only wanted to make you feel him, to make you suffer a little for all the shit you made him go through.

Jungkook slid his fat cock until it was barely in your cunt, mushroom tip caught by the suctioning ring of muscle inside of you. Then he bottomed out, fucking you a little faster.

“Mmh,” you whined. Eyes filling with tears by the way he was fucking you. “Jungkook—”

“Shut up and take it,” his thrusts were precise and sharp, big cock stretching out your cunt to his size. “Sweet pussy made for me. Wanted me to keep you like this, right?” He slammed harder into you. “Need to keep you like this so you won’t go spreading your legs to anyone who gives you a little bit of attention.”

“Nghh…” He hit one spot that made you finally sob in pleasure. Jungkook smiled, hitting it again and again until you were crying, “w-wait, wait—”

His cock was thick and hot, stretching you open with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips, and you were shaking underneath him, thighs trembling, breath hitching into little broken sobs. He continued fucking you so deep and hard it was making your legs shook in pleasure and back arched in need.

Too much, it was too much. You could feel the high building slowly in your tummy.

Your hands searched for his leg, your hips moving closer to the desk so you could pull away from him just for a second of how intense it was becoming everything.

“F-fuck, yes, yes,” he exhaled hard through his nose.

Jungkook didn’t let you.

He grabbed your hands with one of his, pressing it to your back. His other hand quickly moving your right leg on top of the desk so he could fuck you deeper. You cried out when he slammed harder into you. “Kook—”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

His weight dropped, his chest pressing to you back to keep you in place. His hips snapped forward harder than before, burying every last inch so deep your eyes rolled and your mouth fell open on a silent scream.

“I’m not letting you go ever again,” he muttered, voice rougher now. “You’re gonna take it. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’ll keep you like this every fucking minute, so full of me you won’t be able to think about anyone else.”

“S’ too much, Jungkook.” You sobbed. “Please, p-please too much.”

He didn’t care. He just wanted to show you he can and will fuck you dumb. That he will make you like this everytime you think about leaving him ever again. Every time you think about the possibility of seeing another man.

Shit. That thought just pissed him off even more.

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, i’m y-yours.”

So dumb. You were getting so stupid for his cock it made his chest filled with pride.

Jungkook knew you could have anyone you wanted. He knew you could find an asshole who could treat you better and give you more time than his demanding career allowed him. But he was greedy, he didn’t want you to find someone else. Jungkook was better than any other guy anyway, he loved you more, he treat you nicely, he fucked you deeper, spread you wider on his fat cock. He was the only one for you.

But he needed you to think that too.

“Tell me you’re my girl,” his voice was softer this time, even if he was fucking you roughly. “Tell me that you love me.”

You obeyed, sputtering the words back as your cunt squished around him. Jungkook didn’t know if you were conscious enough to be aware of what were you saying or if you even meant it— but it was enough for him.

But then you said it.

“‘m sorry,” you whispered, rolling your hips to suck his cock deeper in your drooling cunt. Not becuase you felt like it but becuase you wanted to show him you could take him even in that dumb state of mind, show him how good you were behaving for him

Jungkook let a long sigh, slowly feeling a little less angrier than before.

You were still his. He knew it.

“Fuck you,” he barked with not real hurt behind it “Knew you were trouble. Should’ve stayed away from you.”

“Nghh…” He rolled his hips. Grinding drag outward that emptied your head completely. He felt that shift inside him, you felt the thick drag of his cock against your walls, and your cunt clenched greedily around him. “You’re mine too.”

“W-what?,” his hips stuttered.

“Y-you’re mine too.”

“Oh,” he said softly, like that answered something. “Greedy girl. Always want everything to be yours.”

“Kook,” you whined.

“There you go,” he murmured, starting to move faster again. Deep, rolling thrusts. perfect full thrusts, each one pushing the air out of you on the way in. You felt every vein, every inch, your slick making it obscenely loud in the small closet. “taking me s’ well, aren’t yeah?”

“Kook, say it,” you cried out again.

Jungkook didn’t want to. He didn’t want to give up so easily. He knew you knew he was head over heels for you. He knew you were just doing this to watch him become a pathetic man of himself for you. You knew he was yours, he was completely and ridiculously yours. He would cut his fingers and shot himself in the head if it wasn’t that way. But he hated how much power you had over him. Hated how you could make a mess out of him with some pretty words and those sweet eyes.

He hated you— No, no he didn’t— He loved you. He loved you so much it was pathetic.

Pathetic. So pathetic by the fact he was trying to show you he was better than his best find so you wouldn’t leave him.

One big hand slide up, covered your mouth completely. His palm warm, fingers splayed wide so your muffled whimpers vibrated right into his skin. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t hurt you— just hold you, kept every word and every needy little sound locked behind his hand while he started fucking you in long, punishing strokes.

Two fingers found your clit immediately: swollen, oversensitive, throbbing and he didn’t tease you, just rubbed firm, tight circles.

Your whole body jerked under him, back arching uselessly because there was nowhere to go. He was too heavy, too deep, too everywhere. Your cunt clamped down so hard he groaned, low and wrecked— and his rhythm stuttered for half a second before he fucked you even harder.

“Mmphmm.”

“Uh?,” Jungkook moaned in your ear. “Shit, takin’ me so well, pretty girl. Gonna fill you up. Make you full of myself.” He pressed a hand in your tummy, making you both feel how deep he was. You cried out at the feeling. “Gonna make you walk with my cum inside you every place we go— shit, yea. Like that? squeezing s’ tight.” Jungkook was gone, mumbling words he didn’t even realize he was saying. Your cunt feeling so good around him it was making him go dumb too. “F-fuck, fuck… gonna keep this pussy full of my cum so when— when you open your legs for another man he’ll see who you fucking belong to.”

You could only sob into his hand, nodding frantically, thighs quivering, toes curling, whole body wound so tight you thought you might break.

“Mine, mine, mine. Ya’ mine.” Jungkook whined, hips stuttered. “I’m yours— yours. I’m yours too, baby.”

You shattered so hard your vision whited out for two seconds, back bowing slightly, cunt spasming violently around his length while you sobbed silently into his palm. He didn’t stop fucking you through it. He kept that same brutal pace, drawing it out until you were limp and twitching and almost drooling against his hand.

His orgasm didn’t take too long to arrive after yours, He came hot inside your folds, thick ropes of cum all inside you. And it was so good that he wanted to cry, filling you up, making you his again. He continued fucking you through his high, didn’t let any of his cum go to waste and fucked himself deep inside you.

His cock sore and softening inside you, cum dribbling onto your nub and painting your cunt with his load. It felt sticky and dirty. But it was his.

The overstimulation hit like a freight train and you were crying into his palm, tears slipping down your temples, thighs trying to snap shut but his weigh kept you spread wide.

Jungkook moved his hand from your mouth to your jaw, still on top of you in that desk, he tilted your head to press his lips on yours. A uncomfortable position but he didn’t care, he just wanted to kiss you badly. He kissed you deeper like he wanted to engraved himself on you. He was desperate to keep you there with him, to keep you forever. He wanted to keep you in that moment forever, afraid of letting you go.

“Mine,” he said one last time.

He rolled his hips one las time, just once, slow, hard and deep, making sure you felt every inch of him in inside you. Just to remind you who was the one who got you like that, spread for him. And just to remind you he was yours too.

well there’s that…